Salvaged vacation

I arrived back in Kandi yesterday after a restful ten days in Grand Popo and Cotonou.  The original Epic Christmas Vacation Plan changed a bit mid-stream, naturally.  TIA, or "This is Africa," after all.  (It's a phrase we use extremely frequently.) Two nights of power outtages (with no generator, apparently, which I found suspicious) and an infestation of ninja-like mosquitoes - they managed to get under our bed nets - nudged us to cut our trip to the beach a day short.  But it turned out for the best.  I recently wrote to my aunt that all I'd really want for a vacation these days is to sit in air-conditioning for a few days, drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper.  That's exactly what Santa brought me, if you switch the Diet DP for a Coke Zero.  After the disappointment of Grand Popo, Mary and I ended up at our friend Will's, basking alternately in sometimes freezing (but what a feeling!) a/c and steaming hot showers (the water for which I did not have to heat up on my stove, a la Laura Ingalls Wilder).  In other words, we enjoyed the luxuries of the First World in the middle of the Third World.  Except for the occasional takeoff of an airplane, it was quiet all day long.  No screaming babies, no roosters, no calls to prayer at 4am, no dogs barking in unison at the moon or whatever they all see at 2am.  It was magical, and naturally, it was difficult to leave.

The bus ride home was all kinds of entertaining, though.  As a rule, I am not a chatty traveler.  I'm not one of those people who makes friends with the person sitting next to me on the plane.  In fact, it's quite possible that we won't say two words to one another, and I'm totally okay with that.  Although I recognize it as a demerit on my Peace Corps service, I'm still a pretty private person here, both while traveling and at my post.  I like to think that I get the "cultural exchange" work done, but I'm never, ever going to end up as a cover story in Peace Corps' official magazine.   So when the guy next to me on the bus started up with "small small" English, I have to admit, I was less than thrilled.  But two hours later, we were still talking to each other.  He works as an accountant for the hospital in Nikki, in the Borgou region.  It turns out we have a couple of mutual acquaintances.  We talked extensively about Obama and his reelection, and Patrick was the second Beninese guy I know who was kind of sad that Romney lost.  He asked me about Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream," and whether Obama being in the White House was its realization  Seriously, it was possibly one of the best conversations I've had with anyone here.  Sometimes I get the impression no one cares about the United States other than how to physically get there, or, rather how I can help them get there.  Randomly, but perhaps because we had a traditional medicine seller hawking his wares on the stretch between Bohicon and Parakou (totally normal), he asked me why scientists weren't working harder to find a cure for HIV.  Anyway, a lively conversation.    He also attempted to read Pride and Prejudice with me as he apparently got bored with his French spy novel.  (Side note: the fact that he brought a book for the trip should have been an immediate indicator of his awesomeness.  Very few people read for pleasure here.)  He now knows that Mr. Wickham was not a man to be trusted.  Anyway, I was a little sad to see him go in Parakou, where I switched buses and sat next to a young French or German girl who similarly gasped each time the bus came perilously close to mowing down a flock of chickens, goats, or women.  No idea why she, too, was going to Kandi.  I didn't ask.

And now, some random pictures of Kandi:

Who needs swingsets when you have an empty box?

I love this ad campaign, courtesy of the Swiss.  It translates to "I am a  herder.  I nourish Benin, and I'm proud of it."  On the other side is another billboard with an older woman who says, "I'm literate; I read and write in my local language, and I'm proud."  Hooray for encouraging patriotism!