Here’s a letter Sunny wrote to her Grandmother, it’s not dated but I’m thinking it’s from mid-August. It might be my favorite letter so far--it's probably the most informative and detailed. It also reminds me of what an amazing girl our Sunny is. I'm sitting here listening to a CD my mom bought me from Wal-Mart (I picked it out) the day after Sunny left to cheer me up. It's called "Spirit of Africa" featuring music by Insingizi. It's got nothing on my Ali Farka Toure -- Talking Timbuktu (the capital of Mali--I think) CD--which I highly recommend to all of you--especially if you're a fan of Ry Cooder (who also produced Buena Vista Social Club). Anyway, Sunny wrote this letter over a month ago so it's a little dated but will make you laugh and catch you up on some of the crazy experiences she is having. I put emphasis on some stand out parts in case you have to leave and come back to this letter and can't find your spot.
Best, Lizzie


Grandmother—
Hello! I hope you get this letter! I have gotten your letters though—thank you so much! You have no idea how excited I was to get a letter—it’s hard to be away from normal communication to the outside world & I miss you tons & miss being to talk to you whenever I want….
Training has been so exhausting—mentally, physically & emotionally, & though I’m still committed to giving myself 100% to this work here, it gets hard to say the least—but getting a letter from you made the day worth getting through! I received one the 21st of August that was post marked from Dalton on the 9th of August—it was the one you had airmailed for 90 cents –so it got through fine & fast! I think the airmail stamp helped with speed. But enough about mail.
Life here is so different from anything I did or could have ever imagined. In other developing countries it’s always different—but Benin is like living on another planet—far more different than any other culture I’ve lived among or read about. It’s been surprising to me how hard it’s been to adjust to this drastic culture shock—the dirt, grime & strange food & clothes are the easy things to adjust to. It’s the social taboos, acceptance of family structures that differ greatly from America’s & strange voodoo culture that is what throws me for a loop. Despite my efforts to always keep an open mind & be non judgemental—it remains a challenge for me as I see the culturally & socially ingrained gender inequality, sexism & conservatism that keeps so much of the population here from progressing. Additionally, I’m coming to terms with the heavy burden I’ll bear as a health volunteer. Being a rural community health advisor means being both fully aware of all the economic injustices & hardships of the people here & not only seeing but understanding the physical pain they suffer as a result--& not being able to do anything about it. Though my days in training are filled with classes about current health problems in Benin, statistics of major illnesses, their causes, roots, & influences, the health care structure of the country & preventative measures & actions taken (among French class, cooking class—for how to prepare Beninese food for malnourished children, gardening class for subsistence farming, & mechanics class for learning how to care for our bikes, stoves, lanterns, etc.) –my main focus for being a health volunteer is in educating proper nutrition & sanitation techniques, & in educating preventative techniques. I’m not permitted to actually engage in any medical practices (as I neither have the experience nor certification for that & the risk for AIDS is too high). So, aside from homesickness & culture shock, my next biggest challenge to overcome will be the emotional weight that comes with this job. I’ve been told that the only way I will be able to survive this work is by developing a thick shell—as pain, suffering & death is likely to be a daily occurrence for the work I’ll be doing. I’ve been praying—a lot since I’ve been here—for a lot of different things. But preparing myself for this kind of work has been at the top of the list as I go through periods of self doubt. From what I hear, only about 50% of volunteers make it to the end of their service in Africa (the average dropout rate for other developing countries is 20%)—but I’m still very committed to my work here--& the need I feel toward those of such desperate, disparate conditions. The poverty I’ve seen here is worse than anything I’ve ever seen before—Latin America & China included. The people here are tough as nails--& how they’ve survived here for so long, thriving for so long, with smiles on their faces (page cut off but I think…)..despite hardships in their lives no doubt, is beyond me. I have no doubt that if I had to live the life they live here I would last no more than 10 years. The women here have super strength & perseverance. I have so much admiration for them—though I share very few things in common. They are strong (physically), hard working & tragically & paradoxically passive (within society & relationships). Their husbands have almost full control & superiority over them—I’m interested in starting a secondary project (apart from the ones I’ll have with my NGO’s) on doing a girl's or women’s group for education—to give them some other source of power & possible income.
Aside from my work life, my life living with my host family—the first ever in all my travels abroad—has been interesting. I’ve gotten into a good routine—fetching my own water, boiling it, taking my bucket showers, walking to class, bargaining for street food & playing dumb, incoherent American during my morning marriage proposals to my classes. The food here, while edible, sometimes even delicious, is weird—even for me. Today I bit into something with fur still on it. Disgusting. I can stomach a lot—almost anything really—I’m well known among the street food vendors in Dogbo (the village I’m living in for training) for being adventurous with my taste buds—but eating things still warm with life, or with fur still on it is a bit too much—even for me. Mostly the food here is hard to stomach because of the immense & when I say immense, I mean exorbitant amount of palm & peanut oil that is used to deep fat fry everything. My omelet’s are deep fat fried in (I kid you not) 4 inches of boiling oil--& 3 times before they are served to me. Even rice & couscous & bread—though not completely or sufficiently nutrious, but not bad for you when served alone—are doused with at least 3 cups of grease per serving. It’s hard to stomach at times & I’ve yet to eat a fresh vegetable--& the only fruit I’m served at home is oranges—which I get by the pound. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat oranges again when I get home. Other than that my host family situation is fine—and since they have even less to eat than me, I don’t complain—at least I go to bed with a full stomach—that’s more than most people here. It gets hard having to be at home with a curfew (8oclock) –but it gets so dark here so quick with no street lights & it being the rainy season, that it’s just safer to be at home than wondering around aimlessly in the pitch black. I’ll be both excited & very scared & lonely once I get to post (the term for moving out of the host family’s house in the new village I’ll be living in). My post is actually fairly large--population of 80,000 it’s a hodge-podge of different religions—Christian, Muslim, Voodoo, Christian Celeste, Animiste (sp?) --& several different languages: Nagot, the predominant tribal language is tonal, like Chinese, & difficult to learn—though I’m trying. My house, much more modern than I expected—with running water and electricity (!!) is quite big. It has 2 bedrooms, a living room, kitchen & an inside bathroom (quite a treat! My latrine at my host family’s is way out in the yard—not a fun walk to make in the middle of the night in a down pour of rain and mud). Though it needs some “tweeking” to say the least, I can’t really complain –it’s much better than what I was originally told I’d be living in. (though it would make a motel 8 room look like a palace in comparison—my concrete walls, the color of throw –up, are riddled with giant holes housing a variety of little creatures, and big earthquake looking cracks—the concrete floor is equally discolored & stained mysterious shades that look reminiscent of past lives of other furry friend inhabitants I’m sure to be acquainted with.
Among what we’ve deemed “Camp Peace Corps” (since training—with class times, meetings, curfew, & a billion other restrictions and regulations, we’re constantly reminded to abide by are reminiscent of our camp days as young children), there are several clubs to belong to. There’s the “I-have-a-mouse-in-my-room-that’s eating my food/tampons/journal/deodorant,” or the “I peed-my-pants” club (due to the inevitable diarrhea that plagues anyone adjusting to well water & a diet of 90% grease, coupled with latrines that are 50 feet away from the back door). There’s also the “I-hate-French club” and the “I’d sell my soul for a snicker’s bar or an ice cream” club. I belong to the latter two clubs, along with the “I-was-up-till-3-in-the-morning-from-loud-tribal-music-chanting-in-the-field-next-to-my-house” club. In all honesty though, the nightly & wee morning hour tribal music doesn’t bother me—I kind of like falling asleep to it—it’s beautiful, very rhythmic & upbeat—what you might liken to Caribbean or Latin American music. I think I’m gonna miss it when I go to Post. Living at post is going to be so lonely & quiet compared to what I’m used to. I wish I’d brought more music—the silence with me living there alone is going to be deafening. I’m contemplating stealing a goat to keep me company at night & so I have someone to talk to when I get bored at my house by myself. I do have a Post mate though—thank God! A post mate is another Peace Corps Volunteer—so while I still have to sleep all alone in my house by myself (it’s Peace Corps regulations—they don’t permit “cohabitations” unless you’re married) I’ll at least have another English speaker to vent to when I need to (which could be frequent). I’m lucky to have a post mate—some of my friends are not so lucky—they don’t have anyone else near them for 50 km—they’re what’s called “out in the bush.” Though I would have liked to enjoy the nature & scenery of the primitive areas of the country, I’m happy to have the security of my sanity by having a post mate nearby so I don’t go wacko out in the woods by myself. There are, incidentally, actually people who have been “wack-vacked” (short for Evacuated for mental instability) from Peace Corps service in Benin. One girl had to be reported by her village—she had apparently holed herself up in her house had been baking bread—only—for weeks before her village called in Peace Corps to evacuate the volunteer from service!
As you can see, there are a whole slew of Peace Corps nicknames & inside terminology. It’s interesting to get an inside view of the organization’s phenomenon. There is a lot of very interesting, sometimes contradictory, a lot of the times under the table business & bureaucracy that goes on within Peace Corps Benin. It is, however, the real deal though. The “Posh Corps”—the term affectionately given for the Peace Corps volunteers doing service from air conditioned facilities & homes, who have stable infrastructure, running water & daily electricity & transportation or communication means, & who are payed more than $2 a day (we live on $1.50 a day—our “daily allowance” from mother Washington D.C.) –this type of “Posh Corps” has yet to exist in Benin. And for the volunteers that have survived so far—they are immensely proud of this. Many, as I mentioned go (….copier cut page off –just two words). Our “stage” (training class of 2007) has already lost several “stagaires” (our official titles—translating to mean “trainees”) In Philadelphia, within the first 3 days of our “stage,” we lost 2 “stagaires” within the 1st week of being “in country” (meaning in Benin) we lost 3 more. Our “stage” –is divided into 4 sectors—TEFL (teaching English as a Foreign language), SED (Small Enterprise Development), EA (Environmental Action), & RCH (Rural Community Health—me). Within my sector—RCH—we’ve already lost 4 –bringing us down to a total of 11 people. EA has lost 2 stagaires as well, TEFL has lost 1 & SED is holding strong. Oh, IT is another sector (it’s the Informations Technology sector & only has 2 people). We started out as 60 stagaires in Benin—I think we’re down to about 50 now—it’s the 5th week of “stage”—I hope we don’t lose anymore. Though I don’t blame them—I understand, actually. I know it takes a lot of courage to admit their defeat & mistake in joining –and to be perfectly honest, it’s hard to be able to say that this is the right choice, that this is what you really wanna do for the next 2 years of your life—especially when nothing any of us could have done could have prepared us for what this experience is actually like. It’s a brave thing to admit when you’re wrong & to know when something isn’t right for you--& for these people, it just wasn’t right. There’s a lot of snobbery among Peace Corps Africa survivors—about the “quitters” but there’s a lot of understanding too that no one deserves to be unhappy, & for a lot of these stagaires—that’s what they would have been for the next 2 years if they hadn’t ET’d (Early Terminated). I can definitely sympathize. I had my 1st Thinking-about-Thinking about –Eting moment last week as I went on my Post visit to visit my new “home.” I had to be wrapped in fabric—mummy like--& lay on the floor of the car I was riding in to hide from Animiste ceremonies of the Secret Society called the Oro which forbids non members—especially women—from seeing their secret rituals. Being mummified & lying at the bottom of a car as I was being driven to my new home to be, was definitely one of those moments where I began rethinking my presence in Benin—voodoo capital of the world. However, rest assured, the Oro only do these secret ceremonies once a year for a month, and upon hearing my terrifying experience during my Post visit, Peace Corps has assured my that they will evacuate me during that time of the year next year so I don’t have to hide out in my house for a whole month. Most likely I will either plan a vacation during that period, or Peace Corps will move me to another city until the Oro is done, or if I’m broke I will just crash at friends’ Posts away from mine during that time period. So yes, exciting experiences for me so far. Not a day goes by where I don’t think to myself—“Where in the world am I that I am seeing this/or eating this/or hearing these strange sounds.” But must I say that Peace Corps is on top of things where security counts. Our APCD (Associate Program Country Director) for RCH is amazing also—she is very connected & concerned with not just the security & safety of each “stagaire” (what we are referred to before we become official Peace Corps Volunteers) but also the comfort, well being & happiness of each stagaire. She was completely sympathetic to my little freak out episode I had & promised me full support in getting me out of Oro territory during their no-girls-allowed-club meetings. God bless her—she’s been dealing with each of our individual freak out episodes--& we’ve all had them—which is why I can’t blame anyone for leaving or realizing this odd life in Benin wasn’t for them. Other stories of fun & exciting times for Peace Corps Benin Stagaires: falling off their Zemis (what motorcycles are called here) into mammoth size mud puddles (done by a fellow Rural community Health stagaire on his way to our conference), getting served spaghetti and an egg for breakfast unexplainably at 2:30 in the morning by what seems to be a wacked out host mom (another Health Stagaire experience), having mice crawl on them at night (not me, thank god), waking up wet realizing their roof is leaking (top line cut off) bed & one set of sheets is completely soaked and not having market day for another 5 days & so not being able to buy any other sheets, and multiple bike collisions with stubborn goats that won’t get out of the way. Good times in Benin for Health Stagaires, huh? It gets to a point where it’s so ridiculous it’s humorous—nearly every strange incident just has to be laughed at at some point—it’s too bizarre not to.
There have been a lot of good lesson learning besides learning to use humor as your most resourceful tool. Others I’ve picked up along the way: Don’t ride your bike with your mouth open and don’t walk with your mouth open (for instance—when your yawning—always cover your mouth)—way too many bugs are digested when you forget.
· Also, when you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, don’t put your head light on till after your outside—you’ll give your host grandpa a heart attack if he wakes up to see a Cyclops walking around his house.
· Don’t wear white on rain days—mud here is red clay & stains.
· Don’t eat the bread that’s been sitting on the table for more than an hour—it’s infested with bugs that only come out after you’ve taken the first few bites of mysteriously crunchy white dough.
· Don’t ever run to the latrine—there’s nothing, I repeat nothing as gross as face planting in the mud just outside the latrine.
· Always check your toothbrush before putting it in your mouth—one of my friends found maggots growing on hers one morning.
· Keep an extra bag handy in case the family latrine is occupied and you really, really have to go.
· Don’t ever step into your shoes without checking for creepy crawlers or snails first—nothing more annoying than being late for class because you had to wash nail guts out from b/w your toes—and, to wrap it up, (this list could go on forever)
· Never, ask what type of meat you are eating. Just put it in your mouth and chew. The answers will haunt you at night as you come to terms with the animal & its organs and body parts your stomach is digesting.
Well, I’m out of lesson learning I’ve picked up since I’ve gotten here. As you can see, I’m learning lots, & as you probably know, I’m missing you like crazy. There’s not a whole lot to do once I get “home” (which is usually 7ish)—I usually just do my homework, eat dinner, & go to bed—and hope to catch my host Papa to see if I can try calling you or daddy on the phone (but have not had any luck getting a hold of either of you recently). Once I get to my Post site— (I’ll move there the end of September) I should be able to email at least. There is an internet café that I hope will still be working and that I hope I will be able to afford so far I’m doing okay on money—but I’m dreaming of all the things back home I wish I’d packed with me. Literally, every night I have dreams that I’m either at home doing something I miss—like eating good food, or lounging around) in comfort—or I have dreams that I have an extra day I am back at home able to pack all the things I wish I’d brought here—these include good like Nutra Grain bars, candy, Ovaltine or slim fast chocolate powder, beef jerky, dried fruits (as you can see I’m craving lots of food—it is the #1 conversation amongst all of us here: the food we miss most & the desperate measures we’d go to get them here) I also wish I’d packed more Ziploc bags to keep the trillion and one bugs that eat and get into everything here—from my retainer and toothbrush, to my soap, sunscreen and clothes. Now that I know I’ll have electricity, I wish I’d brought more electronic things that will definitely come of use—but I’m hoping I can get those when I come up for Jackson’s wedding—which I hope I can do! I’m already dreaming about all the things I want to do when I get home (real home) for Jackson’s wedding—getting a decent haircut, getting a much needed pedicure and bath soak (maybe even splurging on a day at the spa!) & just generally feeling like a girl again! I miss feeling pretty. It’s a shared feeling among all the girls here—even the rough and tough ones—there just gets to be a certain point of grossness that even the lowest maintenance girl can’t stand. We’ve all reached that low-and it’s only a little over a month since we’ve been here. Ohhhhhhh and it’s gonna be an interesting 2 years for us J. Already several of the girls have resorted to chopping/shaving their hair off—and it’s not even the hot season yet. I haven’t gotten to that point—but there’s no telling what 130 degree heat will make me do (I promise to call/email before I do anything drastic!). Aside from food cravings, I’m also missing pretty clothes—I’m so sick of wearing the same outfits everyday and not having an variety and not matching. It’s a completely trivial, superficial and materialistic complaint—I know—but the girly girl in me is definitely rebelling right now. I can’t wait to go shopping—like actual shopping (not for fish, soap and tape)—it’s a good thing I don’t have a convenient shipping address—I would be buying clothes online left and right I did! A lot of the time my hunger for other clothes is legit—a lot of my clothes I’m finding, just don’t fit appropriately, or are not fitting well anymore (given that my diet for, the past 5 weeks have been of deep fat fried everything and all I eat are white starches dripping in grease). So that will be another really exciting thing for me to look forward to when I visit home.
I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll be able to make it to the wedding (Sunny’s brother Jackson’s). I definitely want to make at least one trip home to visit. I’m finding out many of the Peace Corps restrictions and guidelines are not as strictly adhered to as I thought—and most Peace Corps Africa volunteers visit home at least once—many also use their vacation days to meet up with friends or family in Europe (a kind of half-way point to meet from America)—just for the sanity of getting a break from the intensely stressful and drastically different life here. On the days when I’m not sure if I can make it, the knowledge that I can come home to visit my family and friends and eat good food keeps me going. I will definitely be planning a trip home if I can afford it. Coming home to restock on Wal Mart supplies, electronics and all the other things I wish I’d packed would be an amazing reward after a year of service and a good chance to see you if you can’t make it here (and I can definitely see why one trip to Africa wuld be enough, it’s not nearly as romantic or picturesque as I thought it’d be). Once I get to Post and am able to make real, permanent connections with the village and the people and I think it will be better and I’ll have more day to day things to look forward to—but for now, the light at the end of the tunnel for me is knowing that I can see all the people I’m missing as early as next year if I want (and if I can get permission and save money). Most volunteers here have visitors or go on vacation to see family so I don’t feel so bad wishing for the same and making plans to take a break from this crazy life here.
Well I should probably start to wrap it up—I’ve been writing this letter for the past 4 nights since I haven’t been able to call you—tell me what’s new with you! Phoebe, Emma and Jackson??? How is everything?? I miss yal so much!! I had a dream last night that I was on a trip with you and we were staying in this amazing hotel room –really plush and comfy—with amazing pillows! And Phoebe and Emma were ordering pizza hut to be room delivered—it was an amazing dream—my two favorite things—family and food! I woke up to a rooster crowing, some goats bleating and the sound of my host mama’s baby crying and realized I was just dreaming and was still in Africa land of no Pizza Hut and pillows made of rock. “Se la vie” though, right? I’m sure this whole experience will pick up soon though—I’m hoping so at least.
Well I love you so so much—and thank you again so so much for the letters—you have no idea how much it means to me at the end of a hard day to get a letter and know you’re thinking about me as much as I am thinking about you.
P.S. Use this address to mail and remember to use airmail! The 90cent postage marked letter came through fine—no need to priority mail—both letters came at the same time so I think the regular air mailed letter got here quicker than the priority mail ($11.00 letter).
Another shipping tip for packages—things sent in the big brown padded envelopes get here quicker—electronics are prohibited and will most likely be stolen, but on all packages putting or drawing some religious symbols wards off potential theifs—so draw crosses on anything of value if it is sent. Boxes apparently take a long time to get here and boxes that say electronic brand names on them are usually confiscated.

Sunny Alley
Peace Corps Volunteer
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 971
Cotonou, Benin
West Africa
Afrique de l’Ouest