Oh, September. You never were my favorite month. For the longest time it brought anxiety of a new school year, and for the past two, the adjustment to a new country and a new job. This year, September has been all about anticipation - mostly for my upcoming vacation to America, to the changing fall colors, to Starbucks iced coffee, and to, most importantly, seeing my family. Alas, from the beginning I knew this month would be tough and Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" became my anthem. Indeed, alert me when it's October and time to get on the plane.
Out of what I believed was ethical responsibility, I decided to have our workstation dogs, Sasha and Malia (Did you not suspect that Peace Corps is full of Democrats?), taken to Cotonou to be spayed. They endured the long journey, accompanied by our local veterinarian (who also needed a break from Kandi, apparently), just fine and made it back home. After a week of recovery, Malia died today. She had torn her stitches out on two prior occasions, and this morning's was the last and ultimately fatal episode. The vet, with the help of our amazing workstation guard, Yarou, patched her up, but she had already lost a lot of blood. So while I'm already missing her - as is Sasha - Malia's untimely end made me realize a couple of things:
a) I still have a heart. My defense mechanisms are hard at work here, 24/7; it's just...necessary. I try to run and sweat out as much of the emotional stress as I can, but part of dealing with ill treatment of women, kids, animals, etc., involves steeling oneself. (And I feel obligated to say a hopeless Benin is not a picture I want to paint. There are a million things going right in this country, so please don't misunderstand me on that front. This could easily happen in America were I a social worker, for example.) Anyway, sometimes I feel jaded and unsympathetic. Seeing Malia today reminded me that's it's okay to cry for a friend, or even a stranger.
b) Our workstation guards are amazing. Yarou not only served as the vet's assistant twice, but he took time out of his Sunday (after working a 12-hour shift) to bury Malia for me. Victorin was kind about my openly crying. I really, really appreciated that.
So, yeah. Hopefully the next two weeks will go a little more smoothly and quickly. Inchallah.
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