At Home in Athieme

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I write this at the end of my eleventh day in Athieme, Benin. Thus far life has been easy because of many circumstances; 1) I live with another volunteer who will finish her two-year tenure in about a week, and who graciously shares all of her knowledge, 2) I get to make my own schedule, always, whatever I want to do, aside from anything to do with cold weather, 3) many aspects of my environment remind me of home, and I naturally feel comfortable here, and 4) I feel welcomed as a woman moving into a new home, and as a work partner.
The volunteer I am with has the wiser, older sister-type behaviors in which I take comfort. Since sharing the same kitchen, we have made some excellent meals that my friends and family should be jealous of. Meals such as: Pad Thai, egg drop soup and fried rice, peanut butter-oatmeal-banana cookies (yes, that was a meal for me), cinnamon-raisin scones, and best of all, yet another version of Wakiki Chicken. Ah, food, how I love thee. But of course, these meals are usually prepared not in just each others’ company, but also a couple of good Beninoises (en boutaille) and men such as Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Buffet, Johnny Cash, John Denver, James Taylor, and that wonderful woman Patsy Cline. And Derique, the Dog. I might be dangerously spoiled living with another volunteer at the beginning of my tour of duty.
I really do get to make my own schedule. If I make myself get out of bed before 7h, I go for a good 25-30 minute jog, before the air and traffic get too thick. Then I stretch leisurely, bathe, usually drink some good coffee after a few cups of water, then head to the omeletterie for an omelette sandwich and a cup of coffee-flavored sweetened condensed milk. Yum. I read a little, write a little, do some laundry, do some dishes, walk around the yard, say hello to some neighbors, and eventually find some beans and rice, or put something together myself for lunch, then do it all over again in the afternoon. If I am lucky, I hear the, “PAIN CHAUD, bon pain,”-man ride by on his bike a couple of times, or see a new bird like the Grey Plantain-Eater, or identify some constellations, or all three.
Strangely, I am constantly reminded of home. The first most comforting similarity was my 13-year old host brother in Aplahoue, with whom I got along really well, and who had a great sense of humor. In Athieme, I feel like I am where I want to be, living the life I wanted. I have my own home where I can make my own food, listen (and dance) to my own music, be oddly more affectionate to an animal than would any other normal being, and I get to learn a lot about myself. The village is rural, with no marche. Though I can find a meal and a cold beer, I have to go to the big town of Lokossa to get variety. The dirt roads remind me of the roads at home, there is a quaint and beautiful Catholic church, but also many other churches of different denominations, and a mosque. I catch myself feeling right at home and normal, which is odd because I did not expect to have those feelings right away.
Part of being able to feel at home right away is that Athieme is used to volunteers, and although the people who are friends with the old volunteers are sad to see them go, these same people are eager to meet the newbie, and have ideas for projects already. I have been welcomed not only by the hand-me-down, yet fully capable and equally friendly house boy, but also by my neighbors, the beans and rice lady, the chefs d’arrondissments (a step below mayor), the mayor himself, a very ambitious school director who also teaches, a wonderful old woman who grinned and shook my hand during mass last Sunday, and most importantly, Derique, the Dog.
I have a welcome letter to translate for you, as best as I can. This is from a group of beekeepers who invited me to their village to discuss with what I might be able to assist them. I am not a beekeeper (yet), but I promised I would do my best to find some kind of resource for them. This meeting included two of the village wise men, who thanked me and the other volunteer for visiting their village, and wished God to be with us in all our work. Then a young man shyly stepped forward, paper in hand, stepped forward some more when the chef du village signaled him to, and read in a soft voice:
“Avegodoe (the name of the village), 5 October, 2005. Mesdames les visiteuses (that’s me and the other volunteer), Monsieur le Maire de la Commune d’Athieme (the mayor, though he wasn’t actually there), Monsieur le chef d’Arrodissment d’Atchannou (in which is the village Avegodoe), Monsieur le chef du village d’Avegodoe; Mesdames, Messieurs les invitees (being everyone)-
The apiculturalists of the village Avegodoe, with one voice, wish you welcome and thank you for your very presence here for the day.
Long live the visitors (that’s us in the Peace Corps)
Long live the authorities present,
Long live those invited.

And then we shared a wonderful meal of rice and chicken, with a Pepsi (not Coke!!), and the best for last: a taste of honey.

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