a higher power

I’m in my ninth month here in Benin, and I have to say that there are days when I wonder what I’m doing here still. I love Benin, but it’s not easy being who I am and living here. I mean, sometimes the injustice I witness on a daily basis is too much to handle, and other times I feel I’m getting used to it. The way women are treated, the problem of child trafficking, the lack of education… and here I am, a college educated, socially liberated American woman. What can I possibly do to improve these women’s lives, to help these children through school, to change the way so many systems here operate? The answer, I believe, is that I can do only a little. The frustrating part is that “a little” has to be enough. Of course, I knew this coming in, but I had no way to prepare for how difficult it would actually be.
Thankfully, there are moments that make it all worthwhile, moments, experiences, and people I will remember and appreciate for the rest of my life. Like today, I’ve been feeling pretty rough. I'm not feeling incredibly healthy, and my emotional state is mediocre at best. I’m struggling with my philosophy about development, my place in this society, and my purpose as a volunteer. But it’s times like these when, well, miraculous things happen. I was on the phone with my girlfriend last night, and we were talking about life. What’s it all about? Just how much loneliness and isolation should we put ourselves through? Why am I here in Benin? What lies at the root of my frustrations? Of course, these are all key questions, and sometimes the answers come in surprising and unexpected forms. I got a piece of one of those answers today…
Two volunteers and I were walking through the streets of Cotonou this afternoon in search of pineapple. It’s usually really easy to find, what with Cotonou being the capitol and port city. Really, there’s usually a marché mama perched on just about every street corner selling some combination of plantains, oranges, bananas, and pineapples. But today, for whatever reason, we were having no luck. So, just when we decided to circle back around towards the Peace Corps office and give up, we spotted them on the other side of one of the city’s busiest thoroughfares: Three little girls, none younger than seven and none older than twelve, marching happily along the sidewalk, each balancing a tray full of pineapples on her head. We got all excited and yelled, “Ananas! Ananas!” from our side of the street. The tallest of the three, presumably the leader of their little band, led them swiftly across the road. They dodged zemidjans (the motorcycle taxis that populate the streets of Benin), SUV’s, and overloaded trucks for ten or so hair-raising seconds before landing safely in front of us. Each girl chose one of us, placed her tray on the ground before her, and began peeling those prickly fruits like seasoned pros. They smiled and chatted with each other in local language the whole time while we stood their mesmerized by the skill of their tiny, but not so delicate hands. We each bought two, happily paying them more than they asked, and watched as they balanced the trays back on their heads, waved goodbye, and skipped gracefully back into the maddening traffic and bustling confusion.
We didn’t say anything for a moment, the other two volunteers and I, and then I gave words to what I was feeling simply by saying, “They were like little angels.” The other two nodded in agreement, and we headed back in the direction of our destination carrying our plastic bags full of fresh fruit and wearing big smiles on our faces.
It’s the unassuming kindness of strangers, mostly on the part of women and children here, that leaves me feeling satisfied after my fears and frustrations have taken me for a ride. Such beauty. Such simplicity. Such magic. And I’m reminded once again that I’m not here to change the world, a city, or even the small town in which I live. The little things have to be enough. And if the “little things” I do for others while I’m here affect them half as profoundly as those three little girls selling pineapple today affected me, then it must all be worth it.

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