Sisterhood

“I have never had a sister,” I say to Erin one Tuesday evening as I am walking back home from taking Beaugard for a walk. “So should I be worried Petra will stay mad at me for good, or will she eventually get over it?” I add, semi-desperately. I face enough isolation on a weekly basis without making it worse by permanently angering my host sister. Erin assures me not to worry; “My sister used to always tattle on me, and I hated when she did it, but I know now she was watching out for me. Just give it some time.” It’s been two days. I lack patients.

Last Saturday my Maman left for Parakou. She frequently takes leave from Matéri for health information sessions. Normally she is not gone more than five days or so. On this particular journey she would not return for close to two weeks. Why does any of this matter? Let me put this in perspective.

My family consists of my Maman, who is widowed, her youngest daughter, Petra, Petra’s cousin, Huguette (both are teenagers), and two girls Meuveille (Maman’s granddaughter), and Presca (of no family relations). Not that I advocate it is necessary to have a male role model, but when my Maman is gone the supervisors of these girls are the soft, push-over, white girl (yours truly), and old grand-mama, who doesn’t speak a lick of French. Neither of us will resort to hitting the girls, and so the fear of god is lifted from the girls’ shoulders, and their tongues and bodies run wild.

The first couple days after Maman leaves normally occur with the same normalcy as if she was still around. It’s like they don’t believe she is really gone, and may come flying out of her bedroom at any moment yelling their names, confusing them at the same time, and telling them they are acting like imbeciles (I use the English word here, but the Biali word sounds very similar).

Thursday things start to deteriorate. I attribute part of this to it being market day, and just the general flow of weeks here. People enjoy drinking in my village. When asked on a questionnaire given by the other volunteer in Matéri, what people spend their money on one person answered, alcohol. I believe it. Now I am not insinuating that my sisters go out and drink on Thursday, but Petra begins to set the tone. She is the oldest, and the only actual child of Maman. She is given the money, and more or less is in charge. So she is out most of Thursday, which is not unusual, but it continues into Friday.

Friday night. I return home from meeting with the director at my school. It is approaching dusk. I go next door, to find the concession empty. I return to my house and set to doing work and cleaning my house. Later I hear noise coming from next door, which I take to mean the girls have returned. I lock up my door and go next door. The girls, minus Petra, are making dinner. Huguette, next in charge, is yelling out the two younger ones. I say something to Presca, who ignores me. Huguette five minutes later takes a broom to Presca. I find out the next day, it is because she did not speak to me when I was talking to her. I ask where Petra is, and Huguette says she does not know. I must buy phone credit, and so I go to the boutique near my house, and this is where I find Petra.

Now, I am sure many can imagine from personal experience the upheaval caused when teenagers are left to their own devices. While here in Matéri they can’t get into hard drugs, go to the mall and loiter, join a gang, or hold massive parties, they can still certainly break social norms.

I rarely if ever go out at night, and neither do my sisters, not without the permission of my Maman, who knows their every move and scolds them if they are ten minutes late from school. So imagine my surprise when I enter the boutique and find Petra behind the counter with the owner helping him serve up Sodobe (Benin’s moonshine). I buy my credit, go back home, tell Huguette what I have seen. Huguette has this looks she gives when she knows something has occurred that isn’t proper, but she doesn’t want to say anything. It is something along the lines of an uncomfortable, nervous, smile.

I forgot to mention that the reason I wanted phone credit, is because I wanted to call Maman to saluer. I also let the girls talk to her, which they are excited to do. I tell Huguette I will not lie to Maman, so she can explain where Petra is. We wait for twenty minutes, thinking Petra will return. When she does not Huguette lies and says she is with Grand-mama. Around 10 p.m. I go to bed. Petra has yet to arrive.

I don’t like to assume, and I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, which on many occasions makes me naïve. But at the same time I live my life here in many ways considering what people may assume of my actions. This is why I don’t go to buvettes (bars) here or go out at night alone. If you are out at night, especially if you are at or with a man, it is assumed you two are together, and here that means you are sleeping together. This is serious business. I don’t even let men on my front porch stoop for this exact reason.

Over the next couple days, Petra continued to be frequently absent from the concession. She very well may have been with her friends, but after Friday night I do not know. Not to mention the increase of male students coming by the concessions on a daily basis since Maman left. It is like a red alarm light goes off in every man’s house when my Maman leaves signaling it is time to attack.

On Sunday I don’t feel well and spent the morning sleeping. When I wake up at lunch time and go next door it is like the scene in Western movies right before a duel, and empty and dusty space. It is clear the concession has not been swept well in a couple days. I go outside and talk with my aunts, who have also been witnessing all these things unfolding. They seem more concerned with the fact that I have not been fed, and one says what I have feared all along about Petra’s actions. “She is going to get pregnant going out like that.” It is not an exaggeration.

Around this time, my Maman calls, and I just unload about everything that has been going on, at the encouragement of my aunts. And for the record it wasn’t even me being worried about being fed, but more about the principle. All this behavior was a result of Maman being gone. Immediately after I call I feel guilty with betrayal. My aunt’s tell me to leave it be, and that it will be fine. They take amusement in my reactions.

Shortly after this, hungry, I go to buy an egg sandwich, return home, and go to meet with another English professor to do some work. I come home near dusk. Everyone is home, but no one is speaking to me. I remain at my house. My aunt tells me to go eat next door, and when I go over there the girls just look at me. I don’t need to fight for my food, in preparation for this very moment I had already cooked some pasta. When I return my aunt, forces me back over, and yells at them to feed me, which they do reluctantly.

The freeze begins thawing gradually. It starts with the youngest girls, then Huguette. I resolve to taking my meals at my house, as to avoid further conflict. The freeze has not only affected me, but Grand-mama, whom they do not give feed on Monday. She also called and told Maman about their antics. I buy her bread, and make her tea for a couple days, until Maman returns.

When Maman returns on Wednesday night, I give her a huge hug. I am so relieved to see her. At this point Petra is still tolerating my existence, but won’t admit she is mad. I begin to feel better, because I feel like her silence has turned into less anger for anger sake, but more anger because she knows I am right, but does not want to admit it.