I'm in Benin!!!

Just as a forewarning, it’s going to be a long one. That and no pictures, they don't like me on this internet connection (sorry)

Language

Good day . . . my name is Gosh . . . how are you . . . good

So this is how mine host family and speakers French hears me must. It is love Russian who knows yes no English yah?

Ok, back to writing like my college degree was worth something. So I have my good and bad moments with francais every day. Most days it goes along the line of being thrilled that I understood someone (usually my papa or one of the kids around the block) give me a basic greeting. As the day goes on I get frustrated at how much I forgot last semester in French as I re-learn in at an accelerated pace. Then at the end of the day my host brother (who speaks more English than I do French) helps me with repetition and basic conversation that I have learned that day.

Rinse and repeat.

On a side note, in order to understand some of the French I have to try and forget the related English rule. So as a result I expect my grammar to fail soon, and you are not allowed to judge!

Finally, there are a few aspects of Beninese culture that I knew about, but didn’t fully comprehend until now.

First, I am a “Yovo”. A yovo means foreigner in Fon. Every child that sees me calls me a yovo. Try to understand this; the youth population here is HUGE. On any given street there are 20 to 30 or more kids all calling me a yovo. Important side note, yovo is NOT a derogatory term; it is not impolite or rude to call someone white, black, fat, skinny, old or any variation of the above here. Ok, continuing, I hear the ‘yovo song’ at least once on each street which, for your viewing pleasure, is written below.

Yovo yovo bonsoir, sava bien, merci

Once one kid says it, it spreads and eventually the whole street is singing this song to you.

Second, before I cam e here I was told that the people would essentially congratulate you on everything. Turns out its true; “good sit, good eating, good work, good walk, and good arrival” are all examples. It makes you feel rather accomplished for the day when you are complemented on relatively rudimentary tasks.

That’s about it on language for now. On-y-va

Food:

I am, for a fact, gaining weight. The people in the cities here almost literally shove food down my throat. This is not because I am skinny or white, it is because I am a guest in their country and a full yovo is a happy (and fat) yovo. I eat many of the same foods too: noodles, omelets, salad, tea (oh, sooooo much tea), baguettes, hard boiled eggs, fish, pork, goat, etc.

There are however some more exotic foods available, and by exotic I mean . . . different. Pate (pronounced like Patrick) is a good example. Think of jello mashed potatoes and you have pate. It’s a delicious image I know but rest assured it has absolutely no taste what-so-ever, that’s what the sauce is for. The sauce is usually made up of a combination of oil, tomatoes, and vinegar. I also was taught how to de-feather, gut, prepare, section, and fry a chicken today, so yea, there’s that.

I had a hamburger, French fries, and an orange soda on the 4^th of July! Well, it was the closest thing they have here to resembling a hamburger. But it was fantastic, I know I’ve only been here a little over a week, but you would be surprised how much I miss American food already (hint hint for food in care packages).

The women cook here, which is to say, when I tell my family that I want to help cook they laugh at me because men don’t cook. Today they let me watch (yes watch but not help) my mamam cook. In fact she was the most insistent that I did not get in the way and mess anything up.

Beninese

I can’t say enough good things (and some odd ones) about the people here. They are all kind, happy, accepting, and understanding of me which says a lot about the culture. I am however the obvious minority (see previous section about ‘yovo’). Most of them speak at least three languages and have something of an education depending on their local.

Now for odd things (to me)

They eat their oranges in a strange way. They cut off the outer orange part, but not the entire shell, so you still have to peel it anyways.

You eat the fish with the skin on

Everyone drives a moto (scooter)

Rent is like $30 or $40 per month

Catholic mass is high energy and colorful (yes, it’s not all weird priest singing and somber songs!).

Kids don’t misbehave. It’s simply not a thing here. No temper tantrums, crying in church, saying ‘no’, and they are all still crazy happy and excited all the time. I think we’re doing it wrong.

Gasoline sold from glass bottles every hundred yards or so.

Living literally 20 feet away from a chicken and rooster farm (oh look, its 5:30AM). I’m not a morning person, but I guess I am now cause not even I can sleep through that.

Having my own personal bubble (otherwise known as a Mosquito net)

Bucket baths!!! Quick shout out to my mom here; Thanks for the training with ‘bird baths’ as kids.

Traffic

I will never again be terrified while driving with my family in the states. You all have absolutely nothing on the Beninese drivers. Traffic signs? Don’t need em. Tailgaiting? Its required! Lanes? What lanes? Helmets? Only yovo’s wear helmets.  Street names? Ha, that’s funny, there are no street names.

Imagine trying to find a house when your directions are “turn at the tomatoes, then again at the chicken”. I’m not kidding, this is how I get home, by using something that has legs and can walk away as a landmark. It has gotten better and I am slowly learning how to get around but still . . . no street names in the housing areas . . .

On the plus side, a zemi ride (motorcycle taxi) is about 200-300cfa which is around 45-65 cents US. They normally know where they are going (at least better than I do) but you have to negotiate out of the yovo price (500cfa+ depending).

Medical

I am healthy and feel like Swiss cheese. I have had so many shots and I’m not even close to done. Hep A, Meng, Rabies, Typhoid, and enough Doxy to choke a horse. First aid kits, water filtration systems, mosquito nets, stool and urine sample kits, a doctor’s personal phone on speed dial, and anything else you can think of, I have it. This is the best medical care I’ve had in my life and I’m a volunteer.

My Host Family

The name is Zannou, Josh Zannou. My host family is awesomely spectacular and I love them. My papa is a professor at the local college teaching mathematics, my mamam is a primary school teacher, and my brothers are both college students (though I have only met one). 

There are also a large multitude of children that live next door whose mother runs a boutique out front (and owns the chicken farm I was talking about). The kids refuse to let me carry anything once I am in eyesight and constantly try to sneak up and touch me. They have never touched a white person before and are curious.

If you got this far you probably have some interest in what’s going on over here, so if you want it, I have a cell phone now. See the “contact me” tab above for how this is going to work.

Well, I think that just about covers it for basic info on my life so far in Benin. There have been plenty of more specific stories I could go over, but that can wait