How Do You Solve a Problem Called Why-Why?

You call Peace Corps and have the villagers threaten to throw him in jail.

Oh the courtship between me and Why-Why started on the second day I arrived in Matéri. I had gone to my school, a twenty minute walk, and upon returning saw a place to buy bread. Fresh off the taxi-bus from Cotonou, where you must discouter everything and bread is cheap I argue over the price they demand for the bread. I finally walked away, not really wanting to buy expensive bread I knew for a fact is not very good. Now, looking back, I can see how ridiculous I must have seemed—which is the overarching feeling I have when I look back at most of my experiences here in Benin. As I began to walk away from the stand, the woman handed me the bread. The man, who had been standing next to her the whole time had bought it for me. I did not really get this until after I almost made it home, which had given me time to replay the conversation in my head and translate it correctly. Then I thought to myself, I hope that doesn’t legally bind me in some way to that man.

The next day I was out saluer again, near the bread stand from the day before. I had befriended a lady next to the stand, who makes yam pilee and knew the volunteer before me. Sitting laughing with her and a few other Beninese women, this same man comes up to me with a close familiarity that makes me immediately uncomfortable. The women tolerate him for a few minutes, but then have to almost hit him to make him leave. He keeps asking if I will be his wife. I tell him I am married. He asks how many children I have. I tell him none, thus canceling out being married in his mind. He tells me he is a doctor. I don’t care.

Sunday, I go to church, and as I walk with my sisters, I hear a voice in the distance yelling ma femme, ma femme. I ignore it, until my sisters turn and laugh. I turn and see the same man. I quicken the pace.

Ever since then that same man has made frequent and annoying appearances in my life here. I finally learned his name was Why-Why, and that he was not in fact a doctor—shocker—but actually the doctor’s assistant. I think he actually just cleans out the trash cans at the health center—shocker.

It never resonates with him that I don’t like talking to him and that I am not his wife. I am even resort to saying I don’t speak French, which causes him to try to speak a little English, to which I respond I don’t speak English. And to be honest French or English I really don’t understand him, because on most days he is drunk. I have only seen him on one occasion when he wasn’t drunk. I don’t think he saw me though, because he walked hunched, with his head down, arms dangling as he sauntered by in shame of his existence and angered by it at the same time.

I noticed his visits past my house increased when my Maman was gone, and one occasion my neighbor even tried to tell me what a good worker he was—my neighbor is always trying to find me a Beninese match. I told my Maman all this, and added if he thinks he is such a good worker, why doesn’t he marry him. I was not kidding.

One day, Why-Why popped his head over the door of my Maman’s concession, I guess no one had told him of her return. At the site of him, my Maman told him to leave, and she once again reminded me he was crazy, and I added he drinks too much. Later that same day, as I was preparing to head to Natitingou, I heard his voice outside where my sisters were washing my clothes. I was in my kitchen and remained hidden there, while my sisters covered and told him I was sleeping. Apparently he was hungry and wanted me to make him food, something I rarely do for myself here, and never for him.

Oh Why-Why.

A week later on a Monday evening I was walking my dog and was just about to turn to head back home, when one of my friends called my name. As I walked toward her, my body sent off an “oh-shit” alarm. There was Why-Why, and he had already caught sight of me. Committed to saluer my friend I continued. As we exchanged greetings, Why-Why lingered to my left closely, which allowed him to catch sight of the bandage I had on my arm from a vaccination. That band-aid I imagine was what a butterfly is to a small kitten, irresistible to not touch. And touch my arm Why-Why did. In all the encounters with Why-Why he had never touched me—oh what a gentleman really.

“Don’t touch me,” I said to him abruptly. It sent him off into frenzy, and he began shouting, tiny droplets of spit coming from his mouth as he spouted off. I picked up my dog and my friend guided me away, but of course Why-Why followed. I dare not put my dog down, as he would have laid down in fear and would hinder me from getting home quickly. About 10 or 15 minutes from home, Why-Why continued to follow me, behind him the laughter of his friends could be heard. I kept silent, thinking he quit me, and when he didn’t I threw out a couple insults, including respecting himself and that he was impolite—these are Beninese insults obviously, not American ones. The insults only fuel him, and the shouting of other men for him to leave me alone, go unnoticed. I don’t understand much of what he says, but I do understand his threats to take my dog and steal my money. Finally a man on a moto and a man from his house come and stop Why-Why, I am two minutes from home. I have used all my strength to not break-down in the middle of my village.

Once at home, I go inside, close my door, which I normally only do when I am sleeping at night. I sit on my bed and I cry. I don’t know that I have ever felt so threatened, but I cry more out of embarrassment, because everyone in the village saw him chasing me down the road.

At the urging of a friend, I call Peace Corps, they call my Maman. She calls me and sounds upset. I worry she is angry with me, but I think she is more worried about what might happen to me if Why-Why continues to cause problems. She says, if he comes again, you call me and he will go to prison.

Why-why is my husband, at least that is what I tell the doctor, his supervisor, when I see him. He laughs, and understands I don’t have any hard feelings. My marriage with Why-why is quite beautiful really. I never see him anymore, even in his drunk states, he saunters by without a word or a look. It is matrimonial bliss.