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...

Arriving in Benin with a few years of French learning under my belt has helped me mightily in training, meetings, and visits to the capital city of Cotonou. At site, however, it’s a different story. Benin has French as its official language, but it’s usually reserved for government, media, education, and formal business. All other communication needs are met by local languages, of which there are more than 50 throughout a country that’s about the size of Pennsylvania. The most predominant language is Fon, which is spoken throughout the southern half of the country and in urban centers. At my site, people mainly speak Sahouè (pronounced Sah-HWAY, descending tone), the primary language of at least 200,000 Beninese and a linguistic relative to Fon. The first thing to know about Sahouè is the essential nature of greetings. You could translate and recite Macbeth to a Sahouè speaker, take your bow, and the first thing they would say is “Great, Billy the Bard, but why didn’t you greet me...

Easter is one of four major Beninese holidays, the others being Christmas, New Year’s, and the Fête de Vodoun, and celebrations at my site live up to hyped expectations. Easter morning began as one would expect with the sun glistening and no one at work. It was especially quiet for a Sunday morning because most church congregations gathered and left at sunrise for the other side of the lake. My contacts at the Evangelical and Reveil des Nations churches brought this to my attention, and without a Peace Corps issued lifejacket I was fated to stay put. That left me with only one other church in my immediate surroundings, to which I went at 9 AM not knowing if they too had crossed the waters. It turned out that the Adjidjatomé Catholic Church made no travel plans and would eventually be packed to the brim with the Easter faithful. While the lakeside environment is certainly modest, the Mass itself remained just as detailed as any Sunday worship in the United States. I’ve attended s...

I recently returned to site after a two-week training on small animal husbandry, village savings and loans associations, and project design and management. While these are a few of my favorite things, what I really want to write home about is my recent shopping trip. Nothing was particularly special about it. In fact, what made it special was returning to something that has become so normal. I attend my local market every four days to buy what necessities I need until the next market day. Each visit proves a great opportunity to practice my local language skills, chit-chat, and think creatively about food and life in Benin. I was thrilled this past Tuesday to bike the 10-15 minutes it takes to get from my house to the market. While occasionally sandy with sharp lakeside turns, the ride to market brings me along a windy dirt path just above the crests of the lake. The views are breathtaking and quite distracting when I need to navigate turns and oncoming motorcycle traffic. I pass...

The odor hits me before I arrive, Stench of dung and decay greet my entry. Lizards abound as though sprung from a hive While cockroaches below wriggle in sentry. The cement is cold, toilet paper old, And sometimes not quite enough to finish. But ah! The relief when done was untold When I was too busy being squeamish. Be it resolve or compulsion that brought Me to the pit and relieve what I felt, I know I am privileged to never have thought, “But where can I poop and promote public health?” It was never as bad, or as gross as it seemed. I must appreciate having my own latrine*. -- *Because I’m one of the few who do.

If I had to describe my last two weeks with one word, it would be infectious. It’s not a beautiful word, but it is a bit fun to say. Its connotations arouse images of hospital beds, hazmat suits, sneezes, and a runny nose. In fact, I find it difficult not to add “diseases” each time I say infectious. Infectious, however, also means communicable, transferrable, and catching, and while my last two weeks certainly had its share of the bad kind of infectious, it also saw a good share of the other, better kind of infectious. About two weeks ago I noticed a growing skin infection on my left arm. I had previously and successfully treated some minor red inflammation on my arms with allergy medications, but this infection was not as kind. I’ll spare the reader the details but suffice it to say that by the beginning of the work week my underarms were blistered with, well, blisters. Or maybe they were boils. What mattered was the discomfort and pain that had – mainly metaphorically - reall...

You never really know a place until you’ve tasted its food. We imagine France as starlit evenings of wine, Nutella, baguettes, and escargot (but not all at once). It’s easy to conjure and image of dinners in Japan with Kobe steak, rice, and sushi (perhaps at once). And in the United States, we eat hamburgers, tacos, and take-out (if not all at once, you’re doing it wrong). Considering this tasty truism and my Peace Corps goal to share Beninese culture with Americans, I am happy to present to you [*drum roll*] Beninese food! My PCV peers might be a little surprised at my enthusiastic presentation of Beninese cuisine. While they share my joy for sharing of Beninese culture with Americans, I assume many don’t think of food as a hot topic to write home about. The words I’ve heard that describe our culinary experience include the passive-aggressive “different” and “interesting,” the more upfront “invariant” and “boring,” as well as the all too desperate “p â te again???” I admit that...

I have spent a little over a month at site, something that amounts to about 5 percent of my total service. I thought it was about time I updated you all back home on my actual work situation. I work with a local nongovernmental organization (NGO) called CRIPADD (Cercle de Recherche pour l’Identification et la Promotion des Alternatives du Développement Durable). Our partnership was orchestrated by the Peace Corps and is meant to provide mutual support for our respective missions on food security, environmental protection, and community economic development. My host organization supports agricultural development and environmental protection in a chain of villages on the east shore of Lac Ahémé. My work so far has been to support CRIPADD’s extension work among a few women’s garden groups. They grow local leafy greens for sale at the nearby market or to pre-order customers. Each group has a plot of land that they manage year-round but focus on during the dry season (December-May). Then...