Hello everyone, Sunny sent me this this morning--I haven't had a chance to go through it and make the formatting pretty but wanted to get it up. Everyone have a safe weekend! Write Sunny letters!
Hello! Recent updates from me:
work is going well-I'm staying busy learning to make nutritionally supplemented food and going to the surrounding villages with the local NGO here. Today I spent 7 hours shucking corn, hand picking it off the cob and picking out bugs and rocks from it before we took it to be ground into corn mill. Bizarre, yes, but it is just one of several activities I've participated in to supply food for the malnourished population here. Besides that we visit a lot of different villages, doing things like testing iodine in salt (lack of iodine-which causes things like goiters-is one of many health problems here) and doing "sensibilizations"-which are essentially lessons of prevention and education on anything from basic sanitation like washing your hands before you eat, to sex ed about HIV/AIDS transmission. Its great work for me in that every day is different-which is something I need. I do Not do well with monotonous cubicle work. Visiting the villages is my favorite part though-it's a completely different feel-a lot more scenery (think lush images of infinite palm trees and banana trees) and I'm able to see things I otherwise would never see in Pobe-some of them exciting and beautiful, others disturbingly depressing.
On my most recent trip to village, I saw snakes for the first time, in multitudes slithering aimlessly and dodging the wheels of the motorcycle I was riding on. I'd known there were many different types of snakes here-we'd been given a couple safety classes on how to identify them and what to do if we were bitten-but this was the first time I'd seen any with my own eyes. The man I was riding on the motorcycle with told me they were delicious. I wouldn't know yet, but I'm sure it'll just be a matter of time. Other things I get to see in village are different types of scarification-the beauty marks made with the use of a razor and sometimes ink, on the face, arms, and or body. Scarification is common in Benin, and helps keep different lineages and tribes distinct-I think its really beautiful actually-the designs are (usually) a very simple pattern of shallow incisions topped off by black ink that is just dark enough to create a subtle imprint-three horizontal lines under a cheekbone, or symmetrical stripes across both arms. But it does have its risks-the sharing of razor blades during the ceremony where the scarification is given is often times a medium for the transmission of HIV/AIDS-and since many people do not own their own razors and tradition dictates that the razors used for scarification be shared between tribal members-it adds just another complexity to improving health situations in the remoter villages.
Other things I have come across in village are girls, as young as 11 or 12, who are well into their second or third trimester of pregnancy. A common and accepted aspect of village life, this is one of the hardest for me to see. Knowing that these young girls did not become pregnant by choice and that most likely, given both their isolated location far away from any proper medical facilities and they're young age and bodies, they and their babies are unlikely to survive. It's a very difficult thing to see, acknowledge, and accept a fate so bleak, and so up close and personal. But along with lack of water source, unsanitary waste management, and a whole host of other deeply entrenched traditions and behaviors that work against health and hygiene, I guess these comprise the reasons why we're doing the work we're doing here. A
side from work and the coupled enjoyment and sadness I get out of it, I'm gradually adjusting to life here. I know I've said this before, but things are much harder here than Id ever imagined-but not for any of the reasons people think they are. The lack of luxuries and conveniences-namely AC, electricity, running water, reliable transportation (or roads-which don't really exist here)- and all the discomforts-like the inescapable heat, humidity and filth I am cloaked in 24/7, the stench of fecal matter (from both animal and human), bugs, and body sores (blisters, cuts, burns, you name it)-are the easiest part of life. To be honest none of the above really bother me anymore. Mostly I just don't let myself think about them-I'm perfecting the art of ignoring physical pain and discomforts from my mind. The one and only thing that remains my greatest challenge has been the feeling of homesickness and a feeling guilt that I have from leaving everyone who means so much to me at home. For now at least, I'm just waiting, practicing a lot of patience and faith that once I give it time, the heartache of not being able to visit my Grandmother, or play with my little sisters, or hang out with friends on the weekend, will eventually subside and be replaced with the stronger desire I have to stay here and meet the needs of the community.
The mentality of living here for the next two years is also quite a different feeling than one gets from coming to visit for say a few weeks, or a couple months as I've done in the past in various other parts of the world. There is none of that feeling of urgent excitement to take in every moment here with awe and appreciation knowing that in three or four weeks time it will mark your end of the stay and you will be transported safely back home with reliable luxuries, loved ones, and American security. No-it is much more (for me at least) a feeling of shock in realizing, "This is home for the next 27 months-without breaks or weekends off or excursions to escape for solace and relief". Time doesn't fly here like the mission trips and travels I've taken before where I only had X-amount of time before I had to board another plane and go back to my ho-hum life of suburban boredom and consistency. The realization that I'm actually living here, making a real life for myself in a tiny town in Benin-complete with all the same routines of home in the States of washing clothes, shopping for food, cleaning my house, and going to bed at night to be up for work the next morning has been quite the reality shock for me here. I guess I assumed that the intensity and excitement of traveling to an exotic new land would be the same here as its been for all my other trips overseas. For this reason alone, its definitely a different experience abroad than I've ever had before.
But I am beginning to enjoy it. Gradually. There, are as admitted, some really hard things for me to adjust to that I've mentioned before-the desperate situations you come in daily contact with, prominent gender inequality, and missing my family and friends, but there are also, increasingly, really rewarding things that I'm finding as well. Like the hilarity of having to wait for the herd of cows to empty out of my street before I can walk down the path to my house, dodging giant cow paddies, goats, pigs, and chickens on the way, or the various nicknames I've been given of terms of endearment from the people I pass on my walk to work, or the time I spend talking to the ladies at my NGO learning new phrases in Nagot (the local language) and blushing away their praises of good work (which I have to politely accept but never fully agree with-shucking corn and pulling kernels off the cob to turn into corn mill still does not constitute a productive day of work for me, at least not yet). I'm even beginning to appreciate my nights alone-something I initially dreaded as that meant holing up in my house to wrestle boredom and homesickness without the distraction of music, tv, computers or other people. I've gotten into a quiet little routine of preparing dinner and washing my dishes outside once night has fallen, and being able to take in the stars and sounds of the night at luxury (not that I'm not Eagerly anticipating the music being sent-thank you Jackson!!). And I love, Love my cold showers! I don't know if I'll ever go back to hot showers again-it's the most refreshing part of my day-a simple pleasure like star gazing and reading into the night that has become part of my coveted nightly routine. Haha-I'm beginning to sound like a 90 year old hermit-lady living in an isolated mountain range! But I guess that's how life goes here learning to make do with what you've got and appreciating it for what its worth-which I'm finding out, is more and more every day. Anyways, more next time-as always I hope you all are doing wonderful! Thanks SO much for your emails and updates-it is so nice to hear from ya'll and hear news from home!
A la prochain~Sunny
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