It’s officially Congé de Pacques. I’m super busy still, but now with visiting friends and coordinating for the Djakatomey Fête de Jeunesse, Quatrième [fourth] edition (FDJ4). I’m really taking advantage of the moment to reflect on my priorities and needs, and to consider what I can reasonably accomplish and when I need to let myself in on the secret that I am, in fact, human.
I can’t unilaterally dictate success on projects, and I can’t control national politics outside of my civic duties and privileges of voting and exercising my free speech and other rights. Unfortunately, using my rights doesn’t seem to have a society shaping impact the way I wish it would. That doesn’t mean that it isn’t worthwhile to speak. To the contrary—raising my voice reminds me of what is important to me and where my lines are.
I used to think my lines were rigid like a train track, but now, I feel more like a motorcycle rider on sandy back roads. I can see the trails of the riders who came before me, but things shift minutely, imperceptably. Each time I recross my tracks, the road is different. Sometimes I wobble and shake and curse the state of these uncertain roads. I’ve even fallen over into the dirt. Two different times. The going is hard, but I move, taking sand with me and shaking up the road again for the next travellers to come along.
To extend my metaphor, sometimes I’m not the only traveller. Sometimes, huge Chinese construction vehicles barrel down my road, leaving gaping tracks after I jump out of the way, all progress halted in the face of this massive, high-speed obstacle.
The journey to school down my dirt road sn’t overtly beautiful, but the leaves are green and I gratefully receive caring greetings in Adja, my local language. When my mind can process the kind words quickly enough, that is. “E fon nywidè a?” “Ehh, un fon nywide.” “Ehyon. Yi agbo.” Yi agbo is my favorite Adja phrase. It means “go, and return safely.” My neighbors know I’m going to school and they’re praying for my safe return when I’ve finished. I love that this sentiment is built into the social fabric of my community.
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FDJ4 is a party. A huge, community party featuring members of the community and several hundred members of the diaspora community as well. My counterpart, Eric, is one of the major organizers for this festival, and he’s been preparing it for weeks. It’s so exciting to watch him in his element. Yesterday, we all wore matching soccer jerseys and played football (soccer) at the Djakatomey stadium. Three of my PCV friends joined in the game!
Today is all about good food, good clothes, and good company. We’re all donning même tissue (the same fabric). This is my biggest même tiche event to date! Djakatomey is surprised by the presence of us foreigners, but we have many friends helping us to feel welcomed. The party isn’t over! We’re taking a repose before we head back out to the party tonight.
With love,
Lena
The content of this blog post is mine alone and does not reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Benin Government.
