The Big Questions

I find myself falling in love with Africa. At first I did nothing but compare it to the United States, which I miss so much. But then I began to see that Africa had things that the United States as far as I know could not offer.

Imagine in the States a Hispanic man moves into the house next to you, or an Indian woman becomes your new neighbor in your apartment complex. Do you introduce yourself? Probably, but do you offer to feed that neighbor? Help them find the local grocery store, aid him or her in buying groceries, and then spent every evening allowing that neighbor to sit with you, watch your TV and eat your food—not the food he bought. Don’t lie about your response. I would even go as far as to think many Americans would think the Hispanic was going to trash the house, have loud parties, with music blasting all hours of the night, and in the end leave the house, after not paying the rent, leaving it with a smell of beans or rice, or some other stereotypical Hispanic food. If it was an Indian neighbor, you might be so ignorant to not even know she was Indian, and maybe assumed she was Arab, and therefore a terrorist or friend of a terrorist. Because of this you would not even think to trust her. Call me offensive, but this I know is the reality of the United States, we trust no one. But if Benin was the United States I would have starved a long time ago, and be living a life of utter despair.

On days when I really miss the United States—despite its cynicism—I think about the wonderful people in Benin I would have not known. When I arrived in Matéri I worried about how I would feed myself adequately. And even though many Beninese think Americans are spies, cowboys, or ninjas, my Maman took me in and fed me. And I know it isn’t just because she knows I am a Peace Corps volunteer, because she has helped others in my community. When I have a taxi-driver trying to get more money from me than he deserves, in most cases, another Beninese comes to my rescue to make sure I don’t get screwed, even though we probably both know I have the money to give. I don’t have a lot of time to myself, and I am always being watched, but I know I always have someone I can talk to. The sense of community that exists in Africa perhaps existed at one point in the United States, and if advancement means the destruction of this precious social set-up I am not sure if the trade-off would be worth it. It gets deeper.

I became a Peace Corps volunteer because I wanted to make a difference, and I wanted to change the world. I now find myself in Africa, asking the big question, or questions, “Can and Africa be changed?” and “Does it want to be changed?” and “Should it be changed?” Peace Corps has been in Benin for forty years.

Post-colonialism, NGOs have set-up camp throughout Africa, along with missionaries, which have been here since whites first set themselves up here. And I think existing as one of the five white people in this village, could be an accurate representation of things. That is to say that perhaps we don’t belong here. Furthermore, as another volunteer asked, not to say I agree with this, but are some of us here out of guilt, that is to say does this work we do now rectify our work of the past? Or maybe excuse us from living our frivolous lives in the United States, where we throw away computer each year for a newer model, while maybe one computer from the 80s exist in any given village in Africa.

My friends were worried I would come to Africa, and come back to the United States and look down on everyone. While the above statements lead one to think this is exactly what is happening to me, I don’t believe it to be true. I think that with any loving relationship, despite human nature, the key is acceptance. I accept that my life in the States is not the same as the one in Africa, and vice-versa. Perhaps, in this way it isn’t fair to compare the two, but it is the only way I can come to try and answer the big questions.