Bennie

Scared and unsure the only moment I let my guard down upon arriving to Matéri was at the sight of two puppies. Bennie and Izzy, which are the names I gave them a week after my arrival, when my Maman quickly discovered their presence always made me smile.

I have to admit I liked Izzy more than Bennie at first. She was the more attractive of the two, and Bennie would not let me pick him up right away. Then one night he slept in my lap for a couple hours, and after that day he was loyally mine. I felt like I had not chose him, but rather he had chosen me. When he got in trouble he knew he could run to me for safety. When I sit outside trying to read or nap, he’d insist on playing around me, and then nuzzling his head underneath my shoulder and sleeping. With the arrival of Beaugarde, Bennie’s jealousy, normally reserved for times when I petted Izzy, increased. He became increasingly needed, and when I would take Beaugard for walks, he always followed along. I thought of him as mine, but never took ownership, as he was my Maman’s dog.

I wasn’t surprised on Christmas Day when I found him sleeping in my chair on the front porch. But something seemed off, then my Grand-mama, said the word vomir, one of the few French words she knows. Bennie was sick. I picked him up and put him in my lap. Comforting him the best I could. He just looked tired and weak; I could see it in his eyes. I let him sleep, as I bustled around. Beaugard had acted the same way two days before and was fine an hour later.

The day after Christmas I left for Safari. I did not give much thought to Bennie, preoccupied with my own stresses. When I returned from Safari, I was so happy to see Beaugarde, and I vaguely noticed Izzy and Dit Peux Toi (Beaugarde’s mother) hoping about me. An hour later as I was talking with my Maman, she mentioned, as Beaugarde entered the house, that Bennie had died.

Talking about death does not leave me unnerved, but death here in Benin takes getting used to, especially since I have not known many people close to me who have died. I do acknowledge though that death as it exists in Benin might bring a slight smile to Charles Darwins’ face. Survival here exists in such a raw form, the strong or the rich survive, and the rest is a crapshoot it seems. A student of mines little sister died a month ago. The son of my surveillant died a couple years ago. The son of my friend died a year ago. Days of drumming can go by, all signaling a death. The louder and longer the drums go the older the person was who died. Dogs don’t get drums.

The Beninese don’t treat their dogs the way we do. In fact, I recently learned that the rumors were true. They kill dogs and eat them here, which explains the high quantity of dogs always running around in village. Now my family happens to be relatively nice to their pets in comparison to others here, but that does not mean they shed a single tear or thought when Bennie died. Knowing this and the way death can come into ones life so easily here, I tried not to look to upset at Bennie’s death.

That whole first day back in village I felt slightly depressed. I don’t know whether it was from not being around Americans, or the fact that it was New Year’s Eve, or as much as I did not want to admit, I was sad about Bennie. I noticed the sadness in Izzy and Beaugard, who slept all day; I was worried they were sick too.

I have recovered, and so has Beaugarde. We have each other, but I have noticed Izzy wanders more and seems distant. The day after I returned she went missing completely. We thought she had died too. She turned up later that day, so excited to see me. Her neediness and nuzzles now remind me of Bennie, and it as if she, like Bennie once did, has now chosen me.