Less than 15 Days

I wouldn’t say Benin isn’t safe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try to consistently hide how much money I am carrying on me, or that I don’t get nervous transporting my monthly salary from the bank. I have been known to be overly cautious, or as it is nicely put; responsible.

Saturday I set out for Natitingou, looking to collect part of the money for the school building project; an amount over 3,000,000 CFA (around $6,000).

A little under two hours later, having ridden a motorcycle the entire way, my arms were tingling, as I waited in line at the bank. I handed the cashier the check, well prepared for him to, well think I made an error in what I had written. I assured him that was the amount I wanted.

Typically I can get away with just my Peace Corps identification card to get money out, but I had hindsight and brought my passport with me this time as well, which the cashier nodded most assuredly he would need to take a look at.

Less than 10 minutes later I walked out of the bank with more money than I think I have ever had at any given moment. My trip wasn’t over of course; I don’t go to Natitingou everyday, so there was going to the market, visiting people, and eating French fries with a nice cold beer before making the trip back. The whole time while I did these things I guarded my purse, which no one but me knew what was really inside; the makings of a school building.

The money remained in my house for the weekend, as I waited for Monday to come and go to the director. I am not sure why in my mind I believe this money deserves body guards or anything fancy like that, but I am pretty sure anything would have been more regal than in my leather teaching bag, slung over my shoulder as I pedaled my way to school via my bicycle—I at least washed my bike before getting on it this morning.

After counting the money for my director, he called the contractor to come by the school, and asked the accountant to come into his office. For transparency on the schools behalf the money would be handed over to the contractor in front of my eyes.

The secondary school in Matéri has 22 classrooms already, which are typically broken up by buildings that have two to three classrooms. When you enter the school yard, a sign over head of the entrance, and eucalyptus trees everywhere, on the right is the administration building. It is a nice building with four offices, and a room for the professors to grade papers and to hold meetings.

The director’s office is at the far end of the building, the end further into the school’s campus. Inside he has a huge desk abound with papers that sits parallel to a window that looks out into the mountains around Matéri, and of course our friendly goats. There is a line of chairs along the wall across from the desk. This is where I sat, along with the contractor, and school’s accountant.

Affairs are handled here with the utmost professionalism, and what I mean is everyone is spoken to as if they were the most important person, even if that person is your best friend. You put up a façade of seriousness for the occasion. It is in this manner that our mini-meeting proceeded. Praise was given to all involved and then the contractor counted the money.

The thing that struck me is that today more than before I really felt like everyone involved this project really believed it was going to happen. I think it isn’t off to say many times money is promised and never turns up, and projects are started to never be completed.

The contractor looked at me after counting the money and told me he’d have the walls up in less than fifteen days. His voice registered something in me that made me understand he, like my director, would not be letting me down. They say they don’t want to let me down, but the way I look at it, it isn’t me. At the expense of sounding cheesy, it is also the supporters and donors, the teachers, the students, and the community.