Hi! Something short and sweet this week. I filmed a more reflective YouTube video today that I’m going to try to get out soon, so stay tuned in for that!
Some details to bring you to Benin:
The disappointment of seeing a zem driver riding towards you to come pick you up but it’s actually just a guy in a yellow shirt
The line of ants in the kitchen that don’t die when you spray them with pesticides and have turned the pantry into a bread graveyard (note: getting a stronger pesticide is item of business #1 this week)
The thumbnail-sized frog that sits on your doorstep taking a break from the pouring rain
The lilting giggles of your students when you greet them in local language
The girls who corrected elementary students from calling you “Yovo,” who chastised “It’s MADAME”
The way zem drivers slide around potholes like they’re trying to do a trick in Mario Kart
The moment you said you were hot so your host father called a child over, took his fan, and when you looked concerned, said, “Don’t worry, he’s like my boy” (you still have this fan because the kid left too quickly)
The restauranteur who knows you want three hundred francs of rice, four cheeses, and pineapple juice when you come to get lunch
The former pothole, now freshly laid and even dirt. No one will fall there again. The community made sure of that.
The message you received on a Saturday night from your coworker, “Hey! Just thinking of you. Hope you have a blessed and restful weekend.”
The pleased “mmhmms” of a group of community members weeding near the church when you said “kudo azo” (good work)
The power being cut in the warm, langouring afternoons. You’re laying in bed, miserable, and with no clothes on because you feel so hot. Where is the power? Why has the universe forsaken you?
The click and slow whir of your standing fan when the power comes back on. Hallelujah.
The memory foam pillow that holds your head so carefully. You forgot it in Lokossa, but today it is returned by a friend.
The photos on Facebook of your younger siblings growing into themselves. Sousaphones and Macbeth. Marching band. Home. You’re not there, but you’re so grateful for the glimpse.
The haphazard way you sling clothes over your clothing rack, too tired to put things up properly. You can’t commit to wearing it again or washing it, so into limbo it goes. It will be there for a while.
The pleased grins crossing your students’ faces as they hear about English club, their homeroom teachers expressing their delight in their best English. “English is a global language.”
The gummy orange paint on your walls. You never would have chosen the color, but it’s painted and bright and wonderful.
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.
