ROAD HOME; TRAVELING MIRACLE CURES; BENINESE CELL PHONE POLICY

I hope you all enjoyed the last two e-mails. Traveling up and down the country is pretty exhausting but I should be a profesional at it by the time you get here to visit – you are coming to visit right? Sure. So I know that I mentioned in the October 29 e-mail that I went to Gran Popo again for Jordan's birthday but as it would turn out I got a bout of tummy tumblies (whatever that is – but it doesn't feel, or smell, very good) so I pretty much did a speedy shopping trip at the markets and barely got out of Cotonou before the sun set – really late and really bad. The taxi driver refused to take me all the way to Azovè so I had to get out in Lokossa and find another driver. On the way to Azovè from Lokossa it started to rain pretty hard (it's about 10pm at this point) so I was pretty nervous and quite exhausted from waking up at 6am to get on the bus, having only a breadstick and an orange to eat all day and a stomach that did flip flops in both directions while producing burps that taste like eggs. The final leg proved, unfortunately, but expectantly, no easier. There were two accidents on the road.

Accidents here in Benin are handled in rather a different manner than back home. We are in a developing country and therefore many things are.. ahem, developing. A good example of one such thing is the lack of emergency response crews. At the site of the first accident was a good example of just such a need not being met. The rain had given up just a little bit and I was asleep in the middle of the two front seats (if you thought I could sleep just about anytime, anywhere before wait till you see me now) when the car began to slow drastically. I look up and untangle my legs from around the stick shift just in time for the driver to slam on his brakes and shift into first gear. There were the tell tale signs of a problem up ahead; clumps of tall grass ripped up from the side of the road placed in the middle of the street; Beninese Road Flares. A man twitching and writhing in pain was on the pavement with female and youth bystanders a good four feet off the road on the shoulder watching; no one was helping the man or moving him from the middle of the road. Another group of four or five men who had pulled their zemis and taxis off the road to help were working together to push the car that had driven off the road and into the bush back to where it belonged. My driver also stopped, despite the woman in the backseat's protests. He leapt out and the rain again began to beat down; all the 'helpers' scrambled back into their vehicles. Some of them even took off into the rainy night. The rain passed within a minute and my driver was back out the door for another 20 minutes of pushing and shoving to get this car back onto the road. Once that feat was accomplished all the good samaritans got back on their motorcycles and into their cars and took off; for all I know, the man is still on the ground bleeding to death internally. Each time I asked what was going on (while everyone was conversing animatedly in Fon) I was given an only slightly annoyed response of "there was an accident," and "the man would have been put in the car, but the car was in the bush so we had to get the car out." They never did say that now the car was out they were going to take him to the hospital. Less than 10km away was a 24 hour hospital from which I never saw an emergency vehicle emerge. Needless to say, I fear for my life daily, if only because of the apathy that would follow should such a meaningless and likely accident occur.

The second accident was in Jack City; less than 10km away from my house. It was a motorcycle on its side with four men standing over it waving along traffic with a flashlight. Again, the grass clump flares were present, but this time no body. I could only hope that meant he was well enough to hobble himself home. Rainy nights make these terrible drivers worse. I got home safely at the UNGODLY hour of 11:30pm to the messiest state in which my house has ever found itself. Too tired to function I could barely toss out the molding milk congealing in my disfunctional mini fridge before passing out from the week's adventures (you'll read about in the Nov. 16 e-mail).

(From October 28 Continued...)
TRAVELING MIRACLE CURES

Riding back on the bus with Shekina was a trip, literally (yuk, yuk). The announcements began right after leaving Dassa and didn't end until Bohicon; if even then, that's just where I got off the bus. Rubbing my eyes and ears in disblief I almost imagined I was back in the Paris metro except, after several minutes and no arrival of the subway police to escort him off, he kept going even despite my please of "SHUTUP!" What began as a harmless enough 'informercial' – travel promotion on Shekina bus lines this weekend – turned into a three hour HSN for the poor. The man with next to the most annoying voice I can remember was selling "cure-alls" and "season-alls" for people who don't even have enough money to cure a ham or season their fried mantioc flour balls. At first I was annoyed; then infuriated as I saw people who clearly did not have the funds for this squander their money on schemes. Literally, with one paste that smelled particularly of menthal anise, he claimed curative powers from everything from Cancer to Impotency (that's a Beninese favorite; as if repopulation was a real nation-wide concern). I supressed my urge to get up and slap the third bottle of clear liquid that claimed to cure Diabetes out of his hand and instead shouted "ARE YOU GOING TO TALK THE ENTIRE TIME!?" in French. I don't think the Beninese are used to people speaking their mind – more on Beninese complacency (something that I believe is a widespread plague in most developing countries) when I have enough time and less of a headache to give it its full due – and my neighbor just stared in disbelief for a few moments before smiling awkwardly in nonresponse. I got no solidarity in this country. But, that was response enough... the orator didn't even blink in my direction. He was on a mission to sell as many vials of vile lies as possible on our trip. I just tried to close my eyes and think of a world where taking advantage of people wasn't so commonplace. It didn't come easily. At least he was enterprising and trying to make a buck, even at the expense of his fellow man, and that is truly just that kind of ingenuity that we need here in Benin. Perhaps a better start would be with designing better buildings or different kinds of furniture or growing a variety of vegetables and perhaps not all selling tomatoes right next to each other in the marché or painting in the same style for everything. But we'll get there eventually. Really could have used the Metro police that time, though. At least he didn't have an electric accordian to do a jingle for his 'medicines'.

BENINESE CELL PHONE POLICY

She cracked open and ate peanuts like a hippo does ballet (the Nutcracker, perhaps?). Her chubby, greasy hand diving in and retrieving fistful after fistful of the boiled goodies; cracking then shucking, shells flying in a 360 degree ring around her person then a forceful sucking of the meat from shell. She clicked and clacked her teeth clean in front of all of us without scruples. Then her cell phone rang, she answered and politely stepped approximately one foot away from the head table – screaming responses into the receiver continuously while the President of the artisan's association sat futilely attempting to continue his own oration on the meetings he had with the federal bureau earlier this month concerning their expectations of the artisans at the communal level. Her phone conversation continued throughout his initial statements and proceeded into the bulk of the question and answer session. I stared in disbelief and my friend, the soldeur (my "soldier") Jonsi who works in front of my house, translated for me and then pleaded with the "Organisator" of the assocation to ask her to get off the phone. The Organisator (I guess that is akin to our "Secretary") declined to interrupt Madame Treasurer to ask her to continue her phone conversation perhaps not in the vincinty of a meeting already in progress. Or at least not at the head table, next to the main speaker, in front of the audience. The phone call ended and we were again able to focus on the President's words. But not for long, her phone rang again and this time she didn't go through the trouble of getting up and leaving the President's side to speak.

After this second phone call ended she began to play Jenga tower games with her one, two, three, four cell phones then laid them out like soldiers of fortune to display her fonctionnaire (like "white collar") wealth to us all. She slid forward in her plastic chair and leaned back into a more comfortable position; which freed her legs to perform a butterfly movement – in and out, airing out her crotch under the table in view of us all. This was perfectly hilarious enough; but it got better. After all that eating, talking, prespiration and subsequent airing ritual the poor woman was so tuckered out she just fell asleep right at the head table in the middle of the meeting – head resting on her right palm, her manners just to the left, on the floor below. I mean, I was tired, but I stayed awake through time-tested practices I had learned at university, but I suppose we can't all be so fortunate to sit through four years of academic lectures learning how to stay awake despite all boredom and partying the night before acting to the contrary.

Cell phone culture in this country is unlike anything I have ever before witnessed and I can only hope I do not pick up any bad habits to accompany into meetings I may have at home after this is all over. Anyone at anytime can answer any phone ring and then carry out a conversation; whether in the audience or actually speaking to a group, it doesn't matter. Even worse is when they don't (I still haven't figure out how this is possible, but it happens a good 70% of the time) recognize their own ring and allow it to bleat out for several moments of agony. Some argue this is a function of their sharing culture and that in fact they are allowing us all to notice they have a cell phone and it rings a pretty ring we can all listen to and share and enjoy equally. Do you think many Americans would agree with this? Yea, I don't think so either. Adding insult to injury, they have the absolute WORST choice in ringtones and I have been snapped into nostalgia on more than one occasion when I hear "Jingle Bells" on someone's cell phone they have neglected to put on vibrate and cannot seem to recognize in time to answer. Receiving calls from a Beninese person is just as perplexing an ordeal. They have a habit of "beeping" you, which is to say they call and let it ring once so you see they called but don't actually waste their own credits speaking to you and instead wait for you to return their call and spend your own credit to converse with them. Enterprising, I know, but annoying nonetheless. They have a knack for finding that fine line.

Health is doing better after two days of sitting on my butt with my new love: West Wing. I only have seasons six and seven (and only five or six episodes from each) that I have been watching over and over. They are just so witty and fast I catch something new each time. I could see myself on Capitol Hill and the more and more I sit here in the dark in Africa and think about it, the more and more I feel I just might make a move to get there (let's be real, I'd move anywhere else after this). But, we'll see.. I have two years to continuously change my mind based on television series – anyone seen Weeds yet? Now that's an idea!



THE LIST again (just think of it as a repayment for all these fascinating, scintillating glimpses into the secret world of a PCV; it's either a package every now and then or your first born child in a few years):

New Stuff:
Pocket Thesaurus
Parmesan cheese
Bacon Bits
File Folders (just need a couple and I haven't found any yet here)
Sticky Notes (the thin, colored strips)
I could use a couple more Bandanas (thanks T&Sam!!) they come in handy for lots of things here!!

The Usuals:
Brownie/Cake mixes (boxed ones take out and put in Ziploc bags w/ instructions cut out)
Dried Apricots, Craisins and Raisins
Idahoan Potato Packs
Sports/Energy Bars
Drink Powders
Yoga/Pilates/Exercise cds
M&Ms
Reese's
Red Vines
Jell-o and Jell-o Puddings
Peanut Butter
Trail Mix/Nuts in general
Thai Curry Pastes
Sauce, Dressing and Spice Packets – marinades, etc
Kraft Mac&Cheese powder (leave the pasta at home and be sure to put in baggies!!! These explode)
Makeup/Perfume samples
Cheap Target-like Earrings (nickel-free)
Good soccer ball!!!!
Acne/Face Stuff
Any good new reads you've finished (in softback)
Mixed MP3 cds
Letters from you! It's fun to get mail in general and I get to e-mail about as often as it takes a letter to get here so if you're feeling Victorian I would love to have a letter from you with some thoughts, funny stories, photos, whatever; and it costs about $1 to mail so don't be cheap with the emotions okay – Bogarting is not cool no matter what the hoarde.

Allison Henderson
B.P. 126
Azovè, Benin
Afrique de l'Ouest
Par Avion

Send it in a padded envelope (put some religious stuff on it, I guess it helps? Not really sure) and usually it is a good idea to send the stuff in separate Ziploc bags (in case of any explosion accidents). When you fill out the customs forms be sure to put that there is absolutely no value to what you are sending (it's just a little white lie to the man so I don't have to pay more to pick it up). Say it's bibles or books or something educational and the value is less than $10; that should get to me just fine.
THANK YOU!!