To the village!

About 2 weeks ago, I sped away in a bus on the rough roads of Benin: Twas a journey north, to the center of Benin known as the hilly regions or Les Collines. Also on the bus were the diecteur of the school I will be working at and my counterpart, a fellow english teacher. We were bound for my village, whiwh is a 15 minutes motorcycle ride away from Glazoué, a big market town and probably the closest town that you'll find on a map. When I got to my village I was struck by how tranquil and calm it was. No paved roads, no electricity, and surrounded by fields of rice, yams, PEANUTS, and corn. I'm not gonna lie, it was a bit startling at first to arrive in the village and think "oh my shnap! This is small." 

But the world has it's ways and the very night of my arrival I fell sick with a malady that I can only describe as a small monster living in my intestinal track, doing acrobatics and causing me to run to the latrine, which was a good 3 mintues walk away. 3 minutes is forever when a monster is inside you. Is that too much information? Sorry 'bout it; Not sorry 'bout it!

Anyways, so my host family who I stayed with for the post visit grew very alarmed at my unwillingness to eat and my sicklynature in general, so at 22h00 they decide to take me to the local hospital, despite my vehement protests. Alas, they persuaded me to go and after waking up the nurses and convinving them not to give me a shot, I got some medicine and started to fall in love with the village. The nurses were hilarious and super friendly with me, even when I became delirious and started saying weird-mariah things. And my host family was so caring.

The next day I woke up feeling 100 times better; the sun was shining, little goats and piglets frolicked through the streets. Life was good.

The rest of my visit I spent trying to practice greetings in Idaatcha, the local language and I went out to the fields with my host family. It's so incredible to feel SO comforted and SO welcomed in a tiny village where I hardly know anyone, nor do I actually speak the language. I'm loving these vibes and look forward to officially moving in!

K, internet time is almost up! loveeee

A Lesson in African Hospitality

A Lesson in African Hospitality

This past Sunday afternoon, my maman beninoise was preparing “pate rouge.” Pate is a main staple item in West Africa, serving as a base for various sauces. Basically, it’s equivalent to rice or pasta. Pate Blanche is made from ground up corn (or in Niger, millet) mixed with boiling water and then mixed and mixed, stirred and stirred with a wooden paddle instrument. It has a general consistency of gelatinous mashed potatoes. I’ve never missed rice so badly. HA. It’s actually not sooo bad. Especially pate rouge. Pate rouge is made by making a basic tomato sauce FIRST with the boiling water, and then stirring in the flour. SO good. It was like all the flavor of sauce, minus all the oil. Unfortunately, my maman doesn’t like it that much, thus looks like I’ll be eating the fermented pate blanche, Akasa, more often than desired.

 Another favorite of mine is Bissap, a juice made by boiling dried hibiscus flower petals and adding loads of sugar. My maman beninoise has taken note of my cries of delight whenever I touch the sweet nectar to my lips. THUS, we have it quite often.

Last Sunday, my mother was busy preparing pate rouge, chicken wings and fried fish for her husband, three kids, one american lady (me), and two miscellaneous family members. We all sat down to lunch and within five minutes the doorbell rang.

Two family friends stop by and, having arrived while we are dining, are obligated to sit down and join us. Diiiiing! Oh, what’s that? Ten minutes later, the bell has rung again with papa beninois’s family friend and 17 year old daughter in tow. No more pate rouge, but a quick jaunt to a nearby food stand provides some pate blanche and there’s plenty of fish, chicken, and just enough bissap. Riiiiiiiiiiiing! Oh, hey it’s the preacher we talked to last week. “Larissa (my 18 year old sister), run out and get him a cold sprite. And more pate blanche!”

Laughing at all these unexpected guests I joke at how popular the family must be to have so many visitors. Maman beninoise laughs and asks what would happen in the U.S. I mutter out something about offering visitors something to drink, but how there probably wouldn’t be enough food to serve 5 unexpected guests. Besides, people don’t generally show up unannounced in the U.S. My maman beninoise again laughs at this and recounts when she first married papa beninois. His brother had come over for dinner and she’d made just enough pate for the three of them. However, just as the meal was starting, her new mother-in-law shows up unannounced. She quickly ran out to buy some pate from a nearby vendor. On her return to the house her bemused mother-in-law shares some essential advice, especially for Africa. When you’re cooking a meal, always make a little extra. You never know who’s gonna stop by!

My experiences thus far in Africa highlight the value of hospitality and making every visitor, friend, distant relative, and guest, FEEL a part of the African family. I had it explained to me as wanting to treat guests so well that they’ll always want to return. The social dynamic is incredibly hospitable, marked by profound generousness, and a willingness to both give and take as needed.