Oodles of Foodles

Last night I had my first food dream. I was outside my house with a group of PCVTs (Peace Corps Volunteer Trainees), when Brandon came running up with a special treat from Lucie, the director of PSL (Pre-Service Learning). The treat: a box of cinnamon rolls, sort of like the dollar ones you would buy at a conivience store in the United States. I don’t even really typically like that kind of cinnamon roll, but in my dream they tasted so delicious. I am not sure if I have ever experienced taste in a dream before, but sure enough I did. There was a problem though. I enjoyed them so much that I stuffed more than I could fit in my mouth and felt like I was going to choke. I gave some to my Mama and she also enjoyed it very much, although she made a face at how sweet it tasted.

I don’t think this dream is a symptom of not eating enough. I have been eating quite well and way more healthy than I was in the States. Other PCVTs complain about not getting enough protein, but for me the decrease in meat intake is not different. Actually there are a number of foods I have really enjoyed. For example, there is a company called FanMilk and they sell different frozen treats. I have only tried the Vanille Lait, and it tasted like the perfect combination of cool whip and gelati custard. On Friday my Mama made fritas, or French fries. They were the best French fries I have ever had. They eat a tremendous amount of breaded items here. I never thought it would be possible, but I have actually had to turn down eating bread. Shocking, considering I became a bread monster at places like Olive Garden, Bertucchis, and Carabas; all of which offer free bread.

I have also started to help cook meals. My family seemed shocked that I wanted to help, but I explained I liked cooking. Yesterday my Mama took this opportunity to also teach me some French words, such as oignon (onion), ail (garlic), poivre (pepper), and sel (salt). Plus cooking with them has proved to be some of the best moments with my family.

My Benin Family

On Wednesday I met my host family. I was a bit frazzled before I met them. I had been on a crowded bus with the other PCVTs (Peace Corps Volunteer Trainees) for an hour, and I had the hump seat—you know the seat on the big school busses with that hump for the wheel. Additionally I needed to use the bathroom, but the line was too long. My Mama found me first. She gave me a hug and then took my hand and guided me to our seats. Although having my hand held reminded me of being a child again, it was a great comfort. I knew my Mama would not let anything happen to me.

Once at our seats I met my brothers, Romeo and Coffrey. Romeo, 19, attends a university in Burkina Faso, and spoke some English, which was quite helpful the first night. Coffrey, 10, pretended to be shy, but I could tell he was quite excited to finally meet me. Through some slight difficulty I found out that my family had a stagaire last year (we are called stagaires).

When we arrived home I met my sister, Rosaline, who is 21, and attends a university in Benin. She is studying to be a medical assistant. I than sat with my Mama and showed her pictures of my family. When I showed her my Mama and Papa, she kissed my Mama’s face. Such a simple act, but it filled me with love; I know my Mama is glad I am here and I know she understands motherhood. She is very close with all her children. She also showed me photos of other family members. Even though my French is very broken at times, my Mama understands for the most part what I am trying to communicate. I am not sure how many silly mistakes I have made. One I made for sure is accidently telling my sister that I had a child. I quickly amended that error.

As I wandered into my room I think things started to set in. I have enjoyed most of the moments though. I hope to never forget that first night; trying to understand how to eat my food, trying to figure out how to put together my water filter (which turned into a family project that I greatly enjoyed). I feel like I am never alone, even on that first night when my family was but strangers.

Snapshots From My Journal

“There is a culmination of emotions stirring inside my soul, which at the moment I imagine to be this inner lining, like that of a swimming pool; lying underneath my skin, my veins, my muscles, and my bones.” – 7/23/09

“Driving through Cotonou the poverty is obvious, but the people seem content—I am not sure how sad I should be, because perhaps they don’t know what things could be like.” – 7/25/09

“We rode on motos for the first time. I was really nervous, but as soon as I got on though it was such a blast. I felt like such a goofball, because if one was to remove my helmet they would see that I was grinning from ear to ear. I was doing something out of my comfort zone.” – 7/28/09

“At times it is obvious I am no longer in the United States, but other times there are small reminders of home; the Colgate advertisement, a tolls road to get to Cotonou, and large houses.” – 7/29/09

“I am feeling a bit overwhelmed and very out of my comfort zone. I suppose this is what they meant by culture shock. I have to just remember to take it one day at a time and not get anxious that I am not doing everything at once.” –7/29/09

“I saw a Voodoo phantom today, which was very interesting. It apparently guards the night, and during the day it is OK for me to see it, but at night it is very dangerous. The phantom becomes violent if it sees a woman at night.” – 7/30/09

“I taught my siblings how to play volleyball today. It is so cool that even with a language barrier I can teach them something.” – 7/30/09