Jeans and Basketball

Africa » Benin » South » Athiémé
November 22nd 2005

Published: November 22nd 2005

Good Evening. I am a little sick, but only a little. Nothing unexpected, and nothing a few papaya seeds won’t jettison. Tonite, I want to talk about two things I love: no, not peanut butter and chocolate (good guess though!), but jeans and basketball.
I have now played two times with the guys of Athieme, on their dirt court. I feel really cool, because although these guys know how to play, they don’t really know the rules; thus enters me, the resident expert. Me, the awkward white girl who speaks funny French, telling all these 16-20ish aged guys the rules to basketball and really kind of messing with their game. Because I don’t want to be shunned, and even more, I want to be able to keep playing basketball, I only say a little bit. Little by little. So my game adapts. I am getting used to shooting at a backboard a foot or so too tall. I am getting used to strong guys, guys who work in the fields when not at school, and who haul water when finished working in the fields, and who eat a lot of pate (I am told that pate builds muscle), foul me while trying to shoot or catch a pass. I am getting used to “dribbling” on the uneven ground, and used to playing with a slimy ball, due to sweat and dirt. I am getting used to the inclusion of soccer rules, which have filled in when the true basketball rules were not available. We don’t play with our feet, though. Maybe the court will be concrete at some point, remedying many problems, but I love playing. I get so dirty, and have to ride my bike all the way back across town, covered in sweat and dirt. It is so much fun. The first time I played, the guys and I were a little timid, not really knowing how this addition, being myself, was going to work out. I watched. By the third time they asked if I wanted to play that day, I couldn’t take just watching anymore. The only problems were that the guys were too worried to guard me (I made six points easily), and Derique followed. Tonite, though, it as all basketball, and Derique knew to wait on the sidelines.
One challenge is incorporating the girls. Because I am sporty and guys are usually out and about, I know mostly guys. But, I am inheriting a girls’ club from the previous volunteer, and I hope I will be able to do all kinds of things with them, from basketball and Frisbee to anything those girls want to do. Maybe my being "in” with the guys will cause them to start thinking a little differently about girls. Little by little.
As for jeans, all I have to say is that I wore them again for the first time in a long time tonite (they are difficult to wash), and I was reminded of how much I love them. Yes, I am learning how to do many things in a skirt (no, I did not climb a tree in a skirt, and yes, I can routinely mount and dismount my bike in a skirt without swallowing my pride), but I still really like jeans.
Now that those two critical topics have been addressed, I will proceed randomly.
At least four of my grafted mango trees will succeed. Four of ten. I was told maybe five, and that five out of ten isn’t too bad for the first time. All right, I thought to myself, I can accept that. Work in the pepiniere is going well, and I am learning more about plants everyday. I also have many of my friends on the lookout for birds, snakes, hippos, and whatever other kind of animal I might want to see. I am also working with AS.P.E.L. on organizing women’s groups to maybe get some composting action going. That project is still getting to its feet.
I have also been reading my previous two journals, from the summer in Yellowstone and my senior year at Benedictine. Frivolous, you say? A waste of packing space? True, I could have probably fit some peanut butter in my luggage in their place, but I am really enjoying reading the last two semesters in college and noting the contrast to my new, working life here in Benin. Besides, I would have been paranoid that someone might have read my words if I had left my journals at home. No, I am just kidding. In all honesty, I have always enjoyed reading old entries, especially from these two journals that are full of memories of a summer and school year I loved. I am amazed at the contrast though. I will give you an example. I am writing this blog entry on 16 November, 2005. Fortunately, the exact date a year past has a good entry; I will share some with you:

11-16-04 Tuesday
This is my craziest week yet. And it’s only Tuesday…
…I just returned from Rochester, Minnesota with Nancy, Tina, and Kate. Kate had an interview with Mayo Clinic there. We didn’t leave Atchison until 6 p.m. Monday, after returning from Wichita that same day at 3 a.m. We reached Rochester by midnite, then spent today entertaining ourselves while Kate interviewed. Rochester is a nice town, and Mayo is a huge place. I would be, and am already, so proud of Kate for being part of that school.
Nancy, Tina, and I went to the Spam museum in Austin, Minnesota too! That was hilarious. The best part was racing against each other in packaging Spam. We had a great time.
I love road trips, I really do. I wonder how many entirely new boundaries I have crossed just within the year. Only in May did anything new happen, with my drive to YNP with Nancy…
If and when I complain about my grades being lower than I prefer, remind me of this week. I do plan on spending lots of time doing homework over Thanksgiving break. Mostly World Religions.
So, tonite in my bed, and tomorrow nite. Thursday in Iowa, Friday will most likely be back here, but could still be in Iowa depending on Ethan. I would rather be back Friday. Classes Monday and Tuesday, then Thanksgiving break! Then one week and two days before finals, then Christmas break!
Of all road trips, Hawaii is the most challenging. ebk

Today, 16/11/05, Wednesday, this is what I have done: I woke up around 6:30 or 7; I don’t know because I don’t look at the time. I watered my flowers and opened up the house to let in the morning air and light. I put the bread dough that I had left to rise over night into the oven to bake. I bathed, and then sat down in front of the fan to make myself feel a little like “cold.” It is November, for goodness’ sake. My neighbor boy came over to fix my basketball hoop. I played with his puppies named “Snake” and “Jazz”, and read some, while he worked. He left, leaving the pups, to my delight and not to Derique’s. I read and napped. I ate a little lunch, then chatted with the neighbor boys who had come to collect their pups, until I had to head out to a meeting of the Young People of Athieme. The meeting was to begin at 15h, so I left my home a little after the hour, and was still the first person at the meeting. I played basketball after the meeting ended, and then bathed again to have dinner in Lokossa. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig. And that was a fully scheduled afternoon. Tomorrow morning I will go to the pepiniere again, and to a neighboring village to meet with another women’s group. Then, I will probably read in the afternoon. I have been doing a lot of cooking lately, so I will maybe have a plate of spicy spaghetti noodles, with some coffee-flavored sweetened condensed milk. A girl’s gotta have her calcium. And her sugar. J
As much as I loved my senior year in school, I am thoroughly impressed by how much I could fit into a day. And how often I read how stressed I was, or tired, or apathetic. But also I read how happy I was, and how much I loved being with my friends and family. My writing while under the influence makes for a pretty entertaining entry, too. Here, I sleep when I am tired, read and write when I want, and sweep when I can’t walk barefoot very comfortably, or if company is coming over. You will be able to laugh at me; I will probably join you in a couple years and will probably be wide-eyed in shock at schedule I will be expected to keep. (Unless I can somehow thwart facing real life yet again…) Okay, sorry Mom and all others, I WILL be joining you in a couple of years!
Happy Thanksgiving!

What else is fun to think about is what it will be like to read my journals from these first few months, or even this first year, at the end of my time in Benin Oh, my stomach will be sore from laughing! And crying…

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