Almost a year

Presently the rain has stranded me in my house, but not before a forty-minute walk home in moderate drizzle. Luckily I had the foresight to both close my kitchen window (so as to avoid a repeat flood) and to bring my rain jacket. It began to rain when I was at hospital vaccinations cringing at the most ear-piercing  of infant screams. During a brief period of reprieve, I ran over to the CEG/high school to ask if my campers had turned in their permission slips. Friday is the last day of school, and I really need to meet with them at least once before then. Somehow I am down to the absolute wire on this and at the point of near panic. So I really hope it stops raining so the girls will come back to school this afternoon. Deep breaths! I also have a village-wide baby weighing tomorrow in Pede, a little town about 5k north of Kandi and need to color in about sixty growth charts.. But because I also need to work on Peace Corps' Goal 3, I'd rather be writing.

So despite my crazy schedule of late, I've been counting down the days until July 2nd, which marks one year in Benin. In some ways it feels like I just arrived with a group of fifty-plus trainees, all anticipating becoming strangers (or yovos or batoures or anasaras!) in a strange land. And other times it seems I've been here my entire adult life. Perhaps I've lost perspective, but I do believe it to be a huge accomplishment and have decided to celebrate by a) baking brownies and b) buying myself some new clothes online to bring back when I go home on vacation.

Just as I had lately pondered how much my life has changed in the last year, I noticed Paul Farmer had been chosen by Foreign Policy magazine as one of the 100 Most Influential Global Leaders of 2011. Dr. Farmer is a medical anthropologist at Harvard and co-founder of Partners in Health, an absolutely fantastic organization (and my dream employer) whose focus is improving healthcare to the poor of Haiti, but also in a few other mostly forgotten locales like Peru, Russia, and Rwanda. Check them out at http://www.pih.org/.  He believes (as you would think most people would, but apparently not) that the poor deserve preferential treatment in healthcare. He believes, too, that medical and social issues are intertwined. You can't solve one without addressing the other. I first read about Dr. Farmer's work in 2009 in Tracy Kidder's Mountains Beyond Mountains, and I can say without hesitation that it set me on a new course. This book, combined with cubicle-induced wanderlust, led me to Peace Corps Niger as a community development volunteer, then by the grace of God/Allah (though I didn't know it at the time), to Peace Corps Benin as a rural health volunteer. One trip to the library changed my life; my librarian friends would be proud! My close friends will also recall that I, by some strange and most excellent twist of fate, met Dr. Farmer (who sported a giraffe tie) on the way to Benin. On the escalator at the Brussels airport, in fact. He was surprised to be recognized and he thanked me and my fellow volunteer John for serving. One of the happiest moments of my life and feeling totally validated: check and check.

Actually, now that I think about it, that was the second strange and most excellent twist of fate of this journey: the first was passing the New York Times building on our way to JFK and eventually to Africa. NYT columnist Nick Kristof has taught me more about social issues (particularly involving women and children) through his column and the book he wrote with his wife, Sheryl WuDunn, Half the Sky, than any other public figure I can think of. His column (and frankly all of the New York Times) is on my top five things I miss from America . (It is accessible online, of course, but I feel like magic is slightly lost.) Anyway, thanks to Dr. Farmer, Nick Kristof, and eighteen months and counting in Africa, I'm a different person, and hopefully mostly for the better. Even through all the moments I miss my family to the point of near tears, the mosquito bites, the bouts of foodborne illness, and any given taxi ride, I know I made the right decision to come.

On clothing

Oh, Saturdays. My day to get up at the first cock-a-doodle-do and run around like a crazy person in the morning so that I can recline on my little wicker couch all afternoon watching Arrested Development and enjoying the luxury of a carbonated beverage. After a peaceful run around the market and down the main drag, I took on the task of laundry, especially important given that I'm traveling tomorrow. In the grand tradition of 'I should know this by now,' I left my clothes out on the line (though, granted, still under the eaves of my porch) and went to run some errands that included tracking down the guy who sells bus tickets for two different transport companies. (He was setting up for a concert at the "nightclub," La Maison Blanche. What a little entrepreneur!) The second it started clouding over, I knew I should just turn around and go home. Long story short, I have now put my fan to use as my dryer. We'll see just how long it takes. My neighbors, who I alternately love and hate depending on their noise level, had gathered up all my clothes and put them inside their house. Cloud and silver lining.

Laundry day chez moi!

I would estimate that I wear something that looks vaguely Beninese/West African about half the time. This percentage increases as my American clothes are getting dingier and not really wearable. I'm sure I'm still sporting things that most people - including myself in my normal life - would have thrown out months ago. I have legitimate worries about what I'm going to wear on the plane in October when I go home on vacation. As of now I'm planning to have something VERY African made because otherwise I'm pretty sure I might be mistaken for a homeless person. and also because I no longer have any qualms about people staring at me. Looking sharp is important here. Wearing anything with holes or visible dirt is a no-no, as it's seen as a lack of respect. I'm sure I get a little more leeway, being a "batoure" and all. Anyway, here is a primer on Beninese fashion:

The majority of normal village people wear "tissue," which is (usually) very brightly colored, patterned fabric. In two-meter form, as they are sold, they are known as "pagnes." Every mother uses old pagnes to carry babies on their backs. (I will demonstrate with a sack of flour the next time I see you.) So for very budget-conscious women, this simple two meters of fabric turns becomes a wrap skirt. No tailor required. (Affixed as though you were wearing a bath towel.) This is most likely paired with some sort of tee-shirt. Some women will have a very simple hem put on the skirt and also add ties to make the wrapped nature of the skirt a little more secure. My host family in Porto-Novo had one made for me, and though some volunteers love them, I wore it all of twice because I lived in perpetual fear that it would fall open. And you have to walk like a geisha. With a nicer, tied skirt, women will wear a very simple shirt (3/4 length sleeves) made of the same fabric. They're usually very roomy and are tucked into the skirt. (So for someone who doesn't like tucking things in, this is obviously not a look I go for, although I was told I looked cute the one time I tried it.)

My fellow volunteers modeling Beninese styles

For women of greater means, fancier blouses and fitted, more tailored skirts are the norm. I see a lot of elastic, accordian (?) -like shirts here in Kandi. There are a lot of puffed sleeves (Anne Shirley would have been in heaven) and, it's pretty popular to have your shirt bejeweled. (Let's pretend that's an actual word.) There are a lot of stick-on rhinestones and stars and stuff on women's clothing. I find the extensive embroidery to be a much classier look.

Men in Kandi actually wear a lot more Western-type clothing than I would have expected, especially the young men. Maybe it's an influence from Nigeria, I'm not sure. The traditional man's outfit is called a boomba. Think of men's pajamas in crazy fabric prints. There's not a whole lot of variation with the boomba, but there are a lot of variations in fabric quality. So the wealthier men still have a way to stand out. I myself got a boomba made, and no one really thought it was weird. Very, very occasionally you'll see a woman wearing a boomba with pants.

I am lucky in that no one really makes comments on my choice of clothes. I can wear pants and jeans without worry, which is more than some female volunteers can say. Though most of my tissue outfits don't follow the exact Beninese style (at all), most people seem to be happy that I'm at least trying. In Kandi, I do have to be careful about showing my knees and shoulders. Some of my dresses are about mid-calf length and even then you'd be surprised at how many people stare at my calves. Maybe they're confounded (as I am) as to the contrast in skin tone compared to my arms and face. Shocking indeed! Until next time, bonne sante!