July 26 Gboma, Toilet and Zemi

I just got to my host family's house two days ago. I am writing this on my second night in their home. I have my own toilet and shower attached to my bedroom, but the toilet doesn't flush and the shower doesn't actually work, but water comes out of the spigot so I don't have to get little kids to go fetch water for me like my companions do. So I'm now somewhat used to "flushing" my own toilet with a bucket of water and bathing with a bowl crouched over a hole in the floor. It's not so bad when I can think far enough ahead to boil water beforehand and then might have somewhat warm water when I bathe – but I haven't yet be able to do that.
For eating, I'm doing well. I have had couscous with fried cheese. I've had "saus de gboma" (pronounced "boma" like "bomb-a") which goes along with the popular cuisine: pate. Which is basically one of two ways: blanche – corn flour – or noir – yam flour – which is then mixed with water and boiled in the pot until it's thickened and somewhat clumped together into a tasteless ball you then dump or mix or dip into whatever delicious sauce you've cooked up to go along with it. The "saus gboma" aforementioned was delicious (if not a little to spicy – as most of the things I've had to eat so far were) and also featured the fried frommage. For all of those of you who thought I'd be losing weight, yea, not so lucky. I'm eating well – unless you think tons of oil is bad.
It's been raining cats and dogs here and for that I am thankful I have my bright yellow rain jacket that allows the rain to only seep through a little bit. I look pretty ostentatious in my bright yellow rain jacket riding down the busy street with my helmet on and my little bag of tricks hanging off the side without so much as a strap to keep it on. Which brings me to my next story. After I have the fan tail of mud down my back I'm riding back from training when all of a sudden the bag of "just in case of a flat tire..." goodies pops off the side of my rack. I stop to pick it up, now fully gathering the attention of all who surround. Another stagaire (what they call us before we're sworn in as volunteers) who lives one house away from me with her family was trying not to laugh. After I got all situated I start riding down the hill towards our house calling out to Emma, the other stagaire, that she's gone the wrong way. I don't know how she did it, but somehow, in turning around, she hit a brick lying in the corner of the corn field around from the gas station where I had just lost my pack. Unable to keep her balance, she fell sideways off into the corn bringing her bike down with her and calling out the entire time "help, help!" One of the neighbor kids laughing at us was kind enough to come help out but other than that, they all had a pretty good laugh at the two "yovos" (foreigners) stuck in the red clay mud who can't ride their bikes for anything. The terrain is super terrible, by the way, and really bumpy and covered in either sewer/rain water or plugged up with trash (there are no trashcans in this country – everyone dumps their trash on the ground then, every four or five days, someone comes around to sweep it up and then burn it somewhere; it's called "trash burning day").
Today we went to introduce ourselves to all the local authorities: the mayor (le mairie), the gendarmarie (the "national guard of Benin"), and the police – who had the stinkiest building I have ever been in!). It was somewhat scary to see the uniforms of the gendarmarie, but not so bad once I saw them playing around with nearby kids and a baby goat eating with a baby pig nearby. Not related, but nonetheless very cute. That's something else that's interesting about the town where I'm currently living (with no internet, by the way). There is an abundance of these things: zemis, bars, hair cutters, tailors, baby goats, baby chickens, baby pigs, and just plain human babies. Everywhere you look they're crossing the street, eating corn on the ground, whatever.. just hanging out. It's like a petting zoo, but I would actually be afraid to pet any of them and, as someone so blithely put it, it's dinner. I'm not talking about the human babies anymore, by the way.
So tonight I got to spend learning how to make saus gboma. Then we all ate together and I ate an orange in the weirdest fashion – I can't wait to show you all. It's actually not that weird, but they eat it like an apple but from the inside out. Juice went everywhere, but it was as fun as falling into a field of corn.
If the cell phone and internet situation doesn't clear up I'm going to just go buy a cell card from one of the remaining existing companies (the only problem is that since two of the four closed everyone is using the two remaining and the network is getting bogged down with everyone's calls so it takes up to thirty tries to get through to someone, but eventually (if you're patient) it works. Otherwise, I have notes to pass along to other stagaires if we wanted to try and meet up. It's so rudimentary – last night I wrote a note to my friend asking if he wanted to meet up in his town bar if I rode my bike there (yea, that cool) and I had to give to my housing coordinator (really spacey dude) to drive over to the next town over (where my friend lives) then to give to the housing coordinator there, who will then give the note to my friend. At this point my friend is either conveniently there and can respond immediately or I have to wait for a response until he gets the note (IF he gets it), then writes a response and gives it to his coordinator who will then bring it back to my coordinator and finally to me. By that time it will probably be Tuesday, haha.
From now on I'm going to just put a list at the bottom of my e-mails and it will contain the items I most want, assuming it's going to take a month or two to arrive. If at any time you have some spare money and just sort of feel like sending me stuff, feel free to do so from the following list:
THE LIST:
Trail mix (everyone loved it Tiffany! I hardly got to eat any myself)
Any sort of candy – if I don't like it, someone will, and then they'll like me!
Hot chocolate packs (I'm going to drink through those like it's going out of style)
Seasoning packs
Good "stove top" easy recipes – imagine cooking with a propane tank next to you and two burners
Magazines
Soft-covered books
Beef Jerky – the bulk of my protein
Stationary (I just need one or two sets and they don't seem to sell it here, but I'm still searching)
Little makeup samples (girls actually wear makeup here and I'm looking bad!)
Small bottles of lotion (I'm talking "trial-size"; it's cheaper to send and I need it afterall)
Small bottles of conditioner (ditto)
Big, cool earrings – men make fun of you because they "can't tell" if you're a woman or not if you're not wearing earrings and I'm allergic to the cheap nickel they use here.
And it goes on each time I remember stuff I used to really like. I don't suppose anyone could ship some Tanqueray, carne asade fries or Taco Bell could they?
A la prochaine fois!

Let the Musings Begin

Sacramento International Airport -

Has a really shallow ceiling and really shaky, vibrating floors. But is relatively empty in the B Terminal I now find myself in for the first time. So this is where the "other" travelers go when they aren't flying super convenient Southwest Airlines. I'm not flying back to San Diego. For the first time in three years. I can see the plane that will take me to Denver, and then to Philadelphia - the HOLIDAY INN. I hope I have all the right paper work (I don't have a WHO card, but I do have some janky Kaiser print outs with some weird acronyms I hope spell out "don't give her any more shots - she has them all already", but I don't assume to be so lucky.

I have packed: photos, Big Orange, digital camera, trail mix, Jolly Ranchers, laptop, magazines, books, journals, chapstick, two cell phones, mp3 player, gum, chargers and usb cords and random electronica out the ears; but I wish I had some eggs and bacon and coffee. I wonder if I'd have to put those in a one-quart bag as well. I'd like to put the lady in the spiky hair with the nervous twitchy cough and the fat roly-poly kid with the inhumane capacity to whistle for hours without taking a breath in a quart sized bag with a zip top.

I think we did well with our goodbyes. A little cry - otherwise it's not official. Some hugging, some words of encouragement and then a dramatic turn on the heels and up the escalator of "goodbye". Then I immediately called them on my cell phone. Yes, all you who might be reading this searching for "how did she prepare for the peace corps", I asked Verizon to keep my phone line for a few more days and just pro-rate it, but opted to not keep the voicemail on a family share plan for an extra $9.99 a month. A good idea for those of you who are lucky enough to already be on the plan and have someone pay an extra $300 for you to keep your number. Not exactly cash-conscious for those of us who might not even be living in the same area code when we return. Your call. Literally. Ha Ha.

Denver Airport -

I waited on the stupid plane for another stupid plane to leave the stupid gate. This is a test of my ability to handle stress and lack of air conditioning in close quarters with women to wear too much perfume and men with throat clearing problems. I passed and made it to my connecting flight exactly on time. What's more - so did my LUGGAGE! I'm out of Denver as quickly as I realized I was in it. Oh yea, and lots and lots of fields and no Taco Bell. Still no eggs and bacon.

Plane over somewhere in the middle of the U.S. -

I got kicked out of the toilet after waiting in line because the seatbelt sign was on. Dude literally held the door open so I couldn't shut it once I was inside. Apparently there is some $1,200 fine from the FAA if you don't comply so, whatever, I guess a new pair of pants should I wet mine is cheaper. But the price on my self-esteem? I guess I would still come out ahead if I just sat down. Evidently there is a place called "Sesame Place" somewhere and you can't see the Link from the plane. Oh, and B-Dawk is not going to be waiting around for you to come meet him when you get off the plane... FOR SHAME PHILLY!

Philadelphia Airport -

MAN there are a LOT of people going to Africa for the Peace Corps. Well, approximately 10 that I met today alone. Some went to the Sheraton for South Africa, some went with us to the Holla Inn for Mali and Benin. There were just too many of us for one hotel I guess. I've already made a few acquaintances and got screwed out of $9. I shamelessly plugged my upcoming "Macaroni every day of the year" book and had an awkward conversation with many people. Let me give you some samples:

Girl going to Benin to vanpool riders: Did anyone pack close toed shoes?
Me: I packed running shoes
Girl: Oh, do you run?
Me: *scoff* Ugh.. can't you tell? I'm hot? And besides, why would I say running shoes if I were bringing them for something else. 'No, I wanted to go scuba diving' or 'actually they're so I can parachute out of the plane without hurting myself'. Geez.
Girl: .............. I have close toed, but they're actually sandals.


Dude waiting at the hotel desk: That's a lot of luggage
Me: Yea, well, two years of my life in here, buddy
Dude: Oh yea, well in that case.
Me: Yea, AND I'm a girl!
Dude: Impressive, yea, I see your point me.
Me: I mean, just this part alone (signaling 1/3 of the big grey bag) is for tampons.
Dude: oh, okay, that's gross.
Me: And this other part is full of batteries. You know, for company. You know.
Dude: Way too much information.
Me: I was talking about my walkman, you sick pervert.
Hotel Desk Clerk: Girl, you funny.
Surrounding Audience: She sure is amazing. Boy, the U.S. is going to miss that humor.

And they sort of all go like that. Only with more laughter and emphasis on how funny I am. Anyway, meeting Gen at the L-TRAIN. Then to philly CHEESESTEAKS AND BEERS.

Tomorrow is the Day I Leave

It's a normal night. The Tour de France is cycling through my television. My sister is sitting next to me on the couch - the cozy leather couch on which I spent many a napping hour. Mom is sitting in the "Big Daddy" chair "ooh"ing and "ouch"ing the cyclists on; sucking in sharp breaths through her teeth whenever the corners are tight or the hill steepens. She jokes about my leaving and says I'm going to "oogah boogah land". My Dad is stressed and tired. We're trying to get as many dvds and cds on my computer and external drive and backup hard drive and usb keys as humanly possible. I can feel a headache coming on and like I've pulled my shoulder hoisting bags meant to keep me supplied for two years and three months. I'm leaving for Africa tomorrow.

Well, that's not entirely true. In 15 minutes 'tomorrow' will be today and technically I'm going to Philadelphia first.

Welcome to my blog. I'm leaving for the Peace Corps to serve as a Small Enterprise Development volunteer in Benin, located in West Africa. This is my blog which is part novella, part technical guide, part musings. As you'll discover, should you accompany me on this journey, there are a lot of parts to me and consequently lots of parts to this blog, so get over it.

As a semi-farewell I'm going to write about "my feelings" as Vasana calls it. That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach where I realize all these people I've been speaking to daily for the last x number of years of my life are now going to be accessible very infrequently. The clamp that seizes my heart and pinches off my oxygen as I say goodbye to one family member and friend at a time. Like my sister said, "we were just finally becoming friends and now you're leaving." I am thankful for the time I've had at home and for the newest friends I have made. I am so excited to tell them all about what's going on in my life while we're apart and hear about theirs in exchange. It's just going to take a little time in Africa to remind me of that. Right now it hurts.