Noah's Peace Corps Blog

Well, it’s been a quiet week at Lac Ahémé, my work site and home out there on the edge of the tropics. The word tranquility comes to mind, even if it sounds more like a molecular quality of a noble gas than the consequence of a kind and equally noble lake breeze. The wind has picked up a bit over the last few weeks, making for warm, splendid evenings on sandy and grassy shores lapped by cool, brackish water. You may think the more consistent wind would portend more turbulent air, and you may very well be correct. The reality is, however, that our dear word tranquility still reigns here at Lac Ahémé. Oh, it sure is peaceful. And that would be mighty fine were it not to apply to precipitation. As a result, it appears the people of Lac Ahémé are the only un-tranquil part of the landscape. (That is, if we put aside the roars and revelries of children playing in the streets, but there is nothing new under the sun.) You see, June should see rain just about every day, at least fo

There had to have been a way to avoid the heat and strain, but there we were, hiking up and down the hill, digging holes, and struggling to get enough water. For the plants, that is. It was June 1st, Arbor Day in Benin, and my host organization, host communities, and I celebrated with 60 mahogany trees, 50 beechwoods, and 20 orange and mango trees, respectively. Working across three villages, two schools, and two excruciating long, sunbathed roads, we planted these 130 trees to improve educational access for local girls. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, so let’s rewind. L'Avenue des Arbres de Houedjro It’s late March, and my community is knee-deep in what would become a three-month national teachers’ strike. At the same time, my counterpart brought Arbor Day to my attention as my host organization usually uses the day to plant trees and raise awareness of environment issues. We had neither seeds nor funding and would have to start scrambling if we wanted to plant