Dream a Little Dream

“Every volunteer comes into service and wants to do a building project,” another volunteer said. I was asking her about her experience with a construction project. The thing is when I joined Peace Corps, I wasn’t thinking about doing such a project. My dreams were on a smaller scale, starting a volleyball team, or writing a community newsletter.

Venturing into the world of PCPP (Peace Corps Partnership Program) only started when at a training session in November we were advised on the importance on doing things the community needed, not just what we think they wanted. “Each school has a development plan,” our assistant program country director told us, “So see what the school’s needs are first.”

My school’s director handed me a piece of paper with eight things listed—this was their development plan. I looked over the list and was disappointed. Most of the needs listed were not something that could be done easily. At the top of the list was “classrooms.”

I knew classroom space was an issue, as I have had to chase classes out my room many times, but didn’t realize just how short our school was on space: 33 classes, most with at least 70 students, one with nearly 100, and only 22 classrooms. It is a big enough obstacle students can’t stay for entire class periods because there isn’t electricity, or they can’t read the board because of its poor condition or from sun glare, or there aren’t enough books, if any at all.

It wasn’t until I was pedaling my bike home the day I received the development plan that I thought maybe I could help build a school building. I informed my director of my interest and gave him the responsibility of putting together a budget. I also ask that the school try to contribute 35%, not just the 25% that Peace Corps requires.

“Here is the budget,” says my director handing over a neatly typed document, detailed with amounts and prices. It is all in French. I can’t even remember how much I should pay for tomatoes at market, let alone the cost of a school building. I relied on my Maman to give me some insight. “C’est trop cher,” she said, “That is too expensive.”

My heart sank, not because I was worried I couldn’t raise the money, but because I had trusted my director to give me a good pricing on the project. Instead of getting mad at the idea that perhaps my director was taking advantage of the situation, I opened up my French-English dictionary and set to decoding the budget and blueprint.

Things have to be handled correctly here in Benin, or an opportunity will be lost to do something great. Respect is important and remaining calm equally so. I was nervous, but confident in my ability to discuss the budget with my director. I had calculated a price I thought was more reasonable, and would help the community meet my pre-conceived goal of 35%. I knew I couldn’t be pushy.

“Is it possible to negotiate the price down,” I said in a quiet, calm tone.

“Of course.”

“I want to do it for 10,000,000 CFA,” I aimed lower than what I actually wanted, which was closer to 11,000,000 CFA, “with the school still giving 4,000,000 CFA.”

“We can just make it two classrooms,” my director started in. I remained calm. I knew from my translation of blueprints there was no reason to jump to changing the project so quickly.

“Je voudrais faire le batiment avec trois salle,” I said, I would like to make a building with three classrooms.

He wasn’t budging on the issue, but he wasn’t being ornery either. I kept on.

“We can make it more simple; no terrace and make the windows different, have one blackboard, instead of two in each classroom.”

The director finally resolved to call the contractor; it was the only way to get a real answer—maybe my director has a hard time remember the prices of tomatoes at market too. The director didn’t give the contractor a price, just asked how low the price could go.

I knew when my director’s eyes lit up that we had received a better price. I was glad I had not given in easily.

“That is what we wanted.”

“10,500,000” he said, after hanging up the phone.

“Je suis contente. Je suis contente.” I am happy. I am happy.

Wednesday night was a major victory for me, but really only I could understand just how major it was. I was able to talk with my director, as a female, and negotiate my preconceived desire price, all in French. I did not compromise my reputation in my village, and furthermore I knew that when I asked for help from my family and friends back home, I wouldn’t be compromising my reputation with them either.