Sometimes Benin tears my heart out and stomps all over it with soccer cleats, like a meat tenderizer.  Sometimes I wish I didn't feel so much.   This afternoon, I was approximately 30 seconds away from packing up and leaving after watching - and stopping - a mentally challenged child being beaten.  Thank God for a few of my fellow volunteers on the receiving end of my text messages and for my dad, who assured me that yes, my being here is worth it.  I know I'm making a difference here.  I hope that doesn't sound pompous, but when your job is to identify malnourished kids, it's easier to see.  Since October 1st, I've weighed 953 babies.  I'm proud of that, especially since exactly none of them would have been weighed otherwise and the underweight dozens among them would have gone undetected.  Dozens of moms wouldn't now be adding peanut butter to their soy-based porridge.  Hooray for that.

I'm super thankful for all the tangible things I can do and track here, like those 953 babies, or the 44 radio shows I've written in French, or the 7 meetings of my new English club (with an average attendance of 5 students - a small but motivated group).  What's difficult is not seeing apparent change in attitudes regarding things like (what we Americans see as) mistreatment of women, children, and animals.  Even more difficult is when you start to question whether or not "cultural differences" excuse such behavior.  Just as the "Volunteer Emotional Continuum" (a real sheet of paper) tells me, this is a normal reaction.  So even though almost every second year volunteer last year looked like they were coasting, I don't think the real work of Peace Corps, which includes a doozy of an emotional rollercoaster, or the so-called "conditions of hardship" will stop until the plane takes off.  Maybe it won't ever stop; knowing what I know now about the ACTUAL hardships (as opposed to First World Problems) my Beninese colleagues and neighbors face on a daily basis, could I ever go back to a normal desk job?  Probably not, and deep down, beneath my current sunburn, sweat, and griminess, I'm almost certain that's for the best.

The best of posts, the worst of posts

As I'm sure is the case with all PC volunteers, sometimes I love my post, and sometimes I....don't.  My sentiments are constantly in flux.  Since I walk all everywhere in Kandi, I've seen, I would venture to say, 99% of it, the pretty and the not so pretty parts.  So today, I've included some photos of my favorite and least favorite parts of town.

Let's start with my least favorites.  We can only go up from here, people.

Along the highway and between the market and the hospital, is this loveliness.  It's a little difficult to see, but this canal doubles as rain and waste management collection.  Mostly waste, though, and waste of all kinds (use your imagination).  There is an empty lot, of sorts, to the right, where women pull well water and livestock and barefoot kids roam around.  FYI, the pillars in the background are the Grand Mosque.

This is trash problem that I also pass every day.  Ducks are fond of wading around in it.

And now for my favorite place, a big expanse of vacant land (nature!), where I like to run.  I rarely run into anyone out here.  I'm not sure what this abandoned building is or what used to exist here, but it's a little eerie, and I love it.  Also, behold my favorite baobab tree in Kandi.

Alrighty, everyone.  Toodles for now.  I'm off to pack up for a bike tour in the Donga region, where we'll be giving talks on malaria prevention and household budgeting.  Disparate topics, yes, but it should be an adventure.