December 14, 2002 Letter

12/14/02

In One Year On.

It has been over a year since I first arrived in Benin. I unceremoniously reached the one-year mark while spending quality time with the newly arrived trainees, the moment known only to me. Laying low has been a recurring theme in Peace Corps life. Our lives are spent so much under the microscope that we indulge in anonymity whenever possible, hoarding it jealously like a package of Reese's Peanut Butter-Cups. With how quickly it has all gone by I cannot believe I am already halfway through. Quite a few things have changed in a year, me being only one of them. I watched another major road be paved through Djougou, completing the highway that now traverses the western flank of this long, top-heavy country; Djougou continues to be the lively crossroads town it has been for at least two hundred years. Watching the asphalt being poured I felt like I was witnessing something momentous, representing the march of progress and development. Just the machines, caterpillars and the like, that were boated across the ocean to do this work were alone enough to make the jaw drop. Even I, from America and living in a pretty big town in Benin, was impressed. I live in a community that represents perfectly the tension that can exist between development and tradition, the hope and fear that it engenders. Philosophizing aside, I'm ecstatic that the road cuts two hours off of my travel time when I head south to CotonouJ Development does have its benefits.

Other exciting news include the posting of Sara Bushman, an old friend, next door in Togo. I had the chance to see her this past week at her Staging sight, meet her host family and fellow trainees. For those of you who know her, I pass on the news that she is healthy and happy. Send her a message if you get the chance in the near future. She'll soon be transitioning to the village where she will live for the next two years, and it is during this period that we appreciate most hearing from friends and family back home.

Finally, and the best news of all, Cyndi, my girlfriend, arrives tomorrow for her month foray to my side of the ocean. Apparently I factor in as merely an added bonus as the explicit purpose of her trip is to see West Africa and particularly BeninJ, but I guess I'll take what I can get. Considering that she is the most patient and understanding person on God's green earth, I'll cut her some slack. We will travel to Ghana and around Benin during the holiday season.

Work Update

Work life has actually picked up lately and this has made a world of a
difference. As much as I have come to appreciate other modes of living, I still cannot shake the American in me that values productivity. Somehow because I expected this experience to be severely humbling at times I thought it would be easier to take when it actually happened. Thinking small has been one of the biggest challenges I have faced. I always tend to look at things on such a grand scale; how every project can reach everyone. I took a couple of busts for me to finally swallow my pride and try to do something in my little corner of the world. So now I am currently working on a few small, worthwhile projects that I am enjoying. A project I worked for four months was the credit bureau I mentioned in a prior letter. For the most part all went well. I was on the verge of launching it when CARE International swooped in and announced it had
chosen Djougou as a site to do the exact same thing. The work I had done on my own is essentially for not, though I am doing my best now to help CARE run their system. It was a bit grandiose anyways for the resources I have access to so I guess it all works out. A few months back I organized a Business Club, but I did not account for the number of students that return to the villages during vacation. I had fifteen kids who signed up and five who came on the first day. I liked the small group, but I felt like I could be reaching so many more kids with my efforts. It was pretty scary my first couple of times teaching, both because of doing it in a foreign language and because teaching is not easy, but it all came together well. I believe I will have much more success with the Junior Achievement program I am setting up in Djougou. You probably have heard of this organization because it was founded and functions in the
good ole' U.S. of A. I have two teams of about 10 students each taking part in a 26 week program during which they will form a small business, choose a product, sell stock to investors to have a starting capital, produce their selected product and sell it in the community. At the end of the year there will be a competition between all of the teams in Benin for some pretty serious prizes. In addition to Junior Achievement, I'm currently working to set up a training program for 150 women who take loans at my credit and savings institution in credit and business mmanagement, and I'm doing a series ofradio programs on the importance of girls' education and challenges that girls face.

Poverty-Envy

Sometimes I wonder which situation is really worse - having nothing and
not knowing it, or having a little, and being aware of everything you don't and will probably never have. A simpler question - is ignorance bliss? In the end I have my answer, but at times I waver. I can't tell you how many incredibly intelligent students I meet, many more so than I will ever be, who will never have more than the lowest paying state jobs (the only "real" jobs are with either the government or international NGOs) and probably much less than this. Most will end up working in the fields, which would not be so bad if it is what they wished. If they had not had the idea of a future inculcated in them, this would not be the disappointment that it often is. One neighbor wants to be a nurse, but will never be able to afford the $2,000 it would cost for three years of education. If you are not very wealthy or have some major connections it is very difficult, much more nepotistic and crony-based than in America (though I know this still exists- just ask my good lawyer friend). It is a daily experience that someone sits me down, sometimes after offering me a gift of sorts, and expects (or hopes) that I have the answers to their problems: What organizations exist that will pay for their work training; what schools in America offer scholarships; can I buy them a ticket to go to America so they can find a job; how does one get a job with this or that organization; can I find them a correspondent; can they write to me when I leave (when they have no idea when I leave), etc, etc, etc. Sometimes I feel like we're hosting a lottery, or we are the golden tickets to get into the Chocolate Factory. There is a lotto game in Benin called "l'Oeuf d'Or" or "The Golden Egg". Three months ago someone in Djougou won and there
was a huge spectacle made in the center of town. There had to be close to a thousand people present to witness it. And of course what are they going to do now, but buy more lottery tickets. Maybe the hope and dream of winning will carry them through. As Peace Corps Volunteers, or foreigners in general, people think we are the chickens who will lay the golden egg, at least in more developed areas where they have witnessed the Midas touch of the Westerners. More than once I have been flagged down in the middle of busy traffic by someone that I figure I must know if they're flagging me down in busy traffic, only to be asked if I'll bring them back to America whenever I depart. I have difficulty handling sometimes the way people at me, the undeserving deference I am shown. I think I enjoy more interacting with people who think they are better than me than those who think I am superior, because at least in the first case I have a chance .of proving them wrong. Thankfully I am approached most often out of sheer goodwill, but the negative aspect seems to linger. One of the greatest lessons I will take with me if I can actually to hold onto it is the importance of being gracious.

I have a good friend, Katie Derzon, serving currently in Peace Corps China (or the U.S.-China Friendship Corps as they call it). She expressed to me in a letter the dichotomy that exists in the Chinese mentality between the U.S. and the West, saying that they are essentially raised to believe that the two societies are antithetical. In Benin it is a bit different. I feel sometimes like the more educated people around me are brought up to believe that the U.S. is the sun and Benin is a black hole. It is refreshing at times to enter areas less touched (none are truly untouched) by Western contact, foreign development and aid. It is nice to be approached out of curiosity more than out of hope. Of course this is selfish and myopic on my part, to believe that it is noble that people should be poor and ignorant. I never fail to catch myself and correct this error in perception, but it returns. I think a big reason is because the suffering that correlates with development is the sort that I can best understand, and so it occurs to me more often. As much compassion or pity I feel for someone who is homeless or does not have enough to eat, as poor of an area I may live in, I can still not truly comprehend what it is to live hungry all the time, not knowing when my next meal may come. I cannot understand what it feels like to lose a member of my family every year, at best. I have never not had the idea of a future instilled in me, so I don't know if it is easier on the heart or mind to focus on other aspects of life. But someone who has a dream before them, but has not the means to attain it. In the end, of course I must argue that development be pursued to bring better health care, increase standards of living, and overall reduce poverty. In the past decade I am told quite a bit a good has come from development work (though 80% of aid still goes into the pockets of foreign development workers and a good chuck of the rest into the coffers of the political elite). It's just too bad that all the crap has to come along with it, that the coin must have a flip side, that somehow, regardless of how "well-off" our society is in general, human suffering will not take its leave.

Deepening of Democracy?

To borrow a phrase from a favorite college professor, I wonder what impact on democracy the new systemic changes taking place in Benin will have. The new elections are taking place in December after a much-touted program of decentralization that shall double the number of departments, the political unit, in Benin. Twice as many regions will now have local officials, thus Benin will have a greater per capita number of representatives, and all will be in principle much more democratic. The elections are all the buzz and it seems that everyone has a hand in somehow or another. Out on the town they are the most popular topic of conversation. Most people have no idea what it all means, despite educational programs on the radio and community meetings to explain. I get asked about five times a day who I will vote for. There is quite a bit of corruption going on at the same time and the elections seem to consist in large part of candidates throwing money around. There are some independent candidates and they seem to be the most educated, most thoughtful of the bunch. Otherwise, the majority of candidates are picked by the national parties essentially to achieve a critical mass. They are often uneducated and lured by the money involved. Promises are made that will not at all be kept (wait, am I talking about Benin here?). Elections are in one week.

George Bush and "the bush"

So if anyone wonders what affect American policy has on the markets of
other countries, look no farther than Djougou. I was sitting in on an
application review for new loans from the CLCAM, its clients generally farmers, and the credit committee (comprised of elected local people, most also farmers) and the credit union staff were looking at a loan from a cotton farmer. They laughed skeptically as they looked at the application and the amount requested. Cotton farming is one of the biggest economic activities and is buttressed by the state. Acting as an intermediary, the state collects all of the cotton, produced almost exclusively in the North of Benin, and sells it in bulk on the world market. I believe Iran is a major buyer but I'm not sure about others. Well, farmers are still waiting from payment from last year's crop and hence the CLCAM is still waiting to be reimbursed for a good number of loans. Then the announcements come about the Bush textile policies with its large subsidies to domestic producers or the EU's new Common Agriculture Policy, which makes even more difficult the sale of cotton and the repayment by farmers. The agent from the national body actually mentioned the U.S. policy as a reason for the difficulties in Djougou. Of course all eyes in the room swooped towards mine. They were not bitter, just curious. Of course there wasn't a whole lot I could say and as I am not in the habit of supporting The W.

From Afar

When it comes down to it, things are pretty quiet here compared to what I imagine life being like there, though events affect me only as much as I can imagine them since I am living in one of the most strategically insignificant corners of the planet. I wonder sometimes if events are
more difficult to understand or seen more clearly when witnessed from afar? On my side of the ocean, we have not been directly affected by the events in the Ivory Coast if you were wondering. I had the chance to speak with an Ivory Coast Volunteer who was on vacation when the coup took place. All of the Volunteers were safely "relocated" (don't you just love government terminology) to Ghana and will not return. I can't imagine having to leave my post with a moment's notice and be unable to look back. The bonds we form in our communities can be quite powerful, as anywhere. And we pray for the Ivorian population. I checked out nytimes.com and usatoday.com and the only coverage on the Ivory Coast was about the evacuation of the private school housing Americans. But it is the kind people I live with and work with every day that are most affected by what is happening. I am fortunate enough to be posted in the most stable country in the region, but it is hard to feel " lucky" when people are suffering. My close Beninese friends are happy though that the coup took place. They believe it is the only way that the current government will ever be unseated, corrupt as it is. So anyway, there are no snipers, executions, talks of war, historic (read: depressing) mid-term elections or breast-induced riots in Benin. I must say my life feels pretty boring, though not unhappily so.

Whipping Boys

I had the opportunity to witness the annual and infamous coming-of-age
ceremony of the Lokpa people, one of two that I know of in Benin that maintain this tradition (the other being the Peuhl). In French it is known as "La Fête de Chicot", the English translation: The Whipping Ceremony. It is infamous because of its brutality; I have found members of non-participating ethnic groups to believe it is particularly savage. I went to Ouaké, the town in which a fellow Volunteer, Paul, lives and works to see for myself. As I spent the night before at Paul's house, the darkness echoed with ominous (ominous probably only due to my fatigue and anticipation) sounding drums as families prepared for the coming morning. The ceremonies began at about 7am; we witnessed it in a village adjacent to Ouaké. Congregated in the village center, people of all ages gathered under a great baobab. The elderly took their requisite honored place on benches on the perimeter along with mothers at the periphery. Boys of all ages as well as a few girls danced in circles, processing actually, around a tree positioned next to the baobab. Each boy bore a whip, some smiling, most stoned-face. Paul knew many of the participants and it was funny to hear him remark of the circumstances of his acquaintances. One of the older boys, Paul remarked, is the point guard on the basketball team he has organized. A couple of kids, on one of the most fearful days of their year, managed to float Paul a smile. The whole ceremony represented perfectly the hierarchical structure by age of this culture, and the boys were distinguished in such a fashion. The oldest boys, those in their last year of participation, wore brilliant headdresses adorned with feathers; a younger group wore distinctive multicolored head-wraps; the youngest either in grass-shirts or athletic shirts, an odd contrast. Older men, not yet elders, who had completed the ceremony added an almost festive atmosphere with their antics, many were drunk on tchouk. Two men in their late twenties served as emcees and played a bit like jesters in a renaissance court. In typical "dead Yovo" style, one wore a blouse with pants and the other a shirt à la Rupal. They made-believe sparring with each other, harmlessly flailing their whips to engage and entertain the crowd. In short, the ceremony pairs up boys of approximately equal size, ages ranging from 18 down to about 5. Two spar at a time, each bearing a whip, and are giving two chances to whip the other person. After both the participants have whipped each other a "referee" steps in the middle and an informal judging takes place, though it seems less important who "wins" than the fact the boys participate at all. It is even honorable to bear scars, a mark of courage, and many do into adulthood. Those in their last year of participation are around 17 years of age (and wear the headdresses). Their physical fitness is incredible, and if you didn't know they were still kids, you'd say they looked quite intimidating as they face-off, seemingly fearless. They blow whistles, in a manner feigning playful though the mood is serious, while sparring, biting down hard as they receive blows like a boxer grinding his teeth on a mouth guard. So the air is filled with whistles and drums, and anticipating murmurs from the crowd as one boy raises his whip and reigns it down on his opponents shoulder, arm, neck or back. Huge welts become immediately visible, and for those whose blows are particularly true, blood is drawn, splattered; open wounds glisten in the sunrays that stream through the baobab tree. Then it was time for the younger boys to go. In almost haphazard fashion, the "graduates" (the men who've completed their years) herd the youngsters like cattle, selecting boys of similar size and thrusting them onto a center stage of dirt. The fear is evident in the eyes and manner of these kids. Some cower and shake while others stand with a courage or stupidity of someone three times their age. They were each granted a stick used to block the advances, a luxury not afforded to the older boys. Few of the young kids landed solid blows, yet lacking the strength, skill and coordination needed. Two middle-level boys, probably about 12 years old, even seemed to have schemed a deal where each would go easy on the other. A Lokpa friend of mine who lives in Djougou participated in the ceremony when he was a boy. I asked him what he felt about perceptions of its brutality. He is little guy and so first spoke proudly of the agility and quickness that allowed him to avoid any serious blows. Then he told me tha the cannot watch boxing or rubgy for their savagery. But even I who am not a boxing fan just for that same reason, found some guttural and primitive pleasure in watching it take place. The same emotion that causes one to go crazy with passion at a football game in the States was present in me, and in some of the men. But most people watching seemed to take no pleasure. An old man next to me winced and flinched each time a blow was attempted. Except for the drums and whistles all was pretty quiet. The women did not react at all, except for one crazy old bat that started running around with a whip. The whole event was like being at the circus and watching the guy on the tightrope. You don't really want to see him fall, but you watch intently because of the chance that he might. I didn't want anyone to really get whipped, but I watched nonetheless. I am told the Lokpa used to be required as well to scale a series of treacherous rock formations as well before being permitted to marry, but nowadays many marry without having done it. I can respect the idea of rites of passage. Most cultures have them and the significance can be grand, bar mitzvahs and soul quests and confirmations. Personally I'd take a plate of baklava over a whip any day. Ok, so maybe my life isn't that boring after all. There was an American who lived in Ouaké a few years back who is legendary in many towns for having actually participated himself in the ceremony. We hear about him often and he name was recalled once again during the ceremony.

Alpha Male

Of greater actual entertainment value (i.e. quality music + no bloodshed =good time), I had the chance to attend the Alpha Blondy concert at the stadium in Cotonou a week or so back. We got tickets dead center. After suffering through a series of opening acts that featured lip-syncing and singing over pre-recorded music (like a summer camp talent show or something) and not much else (except the Ghanaian rap group dressed like North Carolina Tar Heels that introduced themselves saying something to the effect of "What the f*ck is up? This is for Jesus" - they were pretty cool) we were not let down by the featured act. Alpha Blondy is a reggae artist from the Ivory Coast and I am told that he was an original member of Bob Marley's Wailers, though don't quote me, I'm no reggae expert. All I can say is that the show was incredible and I encourage everyoneback home who enjoys reggae or politically charged music to check him out. His group was tight (both as in played together perfectly and tight like my homies back in Wisconsin) and his two-female back-up singers had great presence and glorious voices. Seeing a concert at a large stadium feels a lot different than being at post, and at times I forgot where I was. More than once I turned to Beninese people next to me in the audience and started speaking English. The crowd was charged and really into the music. At the refrain in the middle of one song, the power blew out, but the audience continued to echo Alpha's words for about ten minutes. He is popular for his music and beloved for his passion, politics, and strong anti-corruption stance. Throughout the concert he made statements relating to or directed at the government of the Ivory Coast. My post-mate Jake and his girlfriend Martina have an interesting story about Aplha Blondy and his anti-corruption ways. They were traveling in the Ivory Coast and found themselves stopped almost every hour by road police who were demanding bribes from every person in the car. At one particular stop, all passengers categorically refused and were detained for over an hour. That is, until Alpha Blondy pulled up in his Mercedes and demanded that they be let go. They were allowed to do so. The only downside to the concert was the rash of pick pocketing and mugging that went on outside the stadium. Quite a few Volunteers had money, cameras or other items stolen.

Fast Times

As I am writing this letter we are amid the month of Ramadan in the shadow of one of the five pillars if Islam. To put it more brusquely, it's fasting time in Djougou and thus in the entire Muslim world. It is what the people here call Karem and it involves thirty days of fasting and other tests of self-control. For those who succeed, the removal of sins in their prize; for those who cheat, well they must wait again until next year, and as well Allah chalks up your failure in the book of life. For those who have sinned little in their lifetime, one Karem can wipe you back to the "Tableau Rasa", or clean slate that Muslims believe we are born with (as opposed to the concept or original sin coveted by Christians). If you are a prolific sinner, a successful Karem can at least make a dent. Also forbidden during this holy month among other things are sexual relations outside of marriage and the active punishment of wrong doers. Not quite sure how this last one relates to law enforcement but as far as one person sinning against another it's kind of like "and forgive us Lord our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." If you succeed in forgiving someone, that person gains a "point" in the record of life and you gain two. Breaking anyone of the rules even once during the month invalidates a Karem. Those exempt from Karem without judgment are those that are too old, too young, sick or pregnant. Kids are often weaned into it all, fasting for half a day at first, and more and more as the years pass. If you are in the middle of a Karem and you fall ill for a couple of days, you are permitted to break fast, though only you and God know if you are honest. In the end it is an honor system, with what is in your heart being the essential. As far as the fasting, everyone gets up at about 5am to start the day. The first meal must be eaten before the sunrays first appear over the horizon, which is at about 5:30am. I am awoken each morning by what has become one of my favorite sounds - the rhythmic pounding of yams in an otherwise silent moment. It is hard work to prepare yams in this fashion, normally the staple food in the north, and so it is reserved for the beginning of the day as the women lack the energy in the evening after having fasted. The first prayer is performed at about 6am, the second at 2pm, the third at 4pm. When the sun just disappears at the horizon, one can eat again, followed by the fourth prayer at 7pm and the fifth prayer at 8pm. My most recent memorable moments have been being invited to " detach or break the mouth" at the end of a fasting day. After not having eaten all day, the men who work and pass the time next to where I work have invited me to join them each day in a meal of limited fruit, rice, cheese and meat, all set in the center while we encircle and truly "share" a meal in the African fashion. The eating continues until bedtime and my neighbors often invite me to join them. It's ironic that in the month that everyone else fights not to lose weight I will probably put on at least a few pounds. I am sure my mother will not disprove. As a result of a promise and a desire to better understand, I undertook the fast for a paltry one day out of thirty. In reality, it was tough but not that bad. What was most difficult was to go without water for the entire day. But the fast also is not intended to be a Gandhi marathon or anything. The point is not to push oneself to absolute limits, but merely to refocus. I think it encourages this refocusing pretty well.

Take Care ALL!

Love,
Matt