Stare...Point...Laugh...Repeat

***Just a quick note: posting has been impossible lately, so sorry for the inconsistency. The three posts that I am putting up today, I will date to give you some frame of reference as to when the events actually happened***

6/29/12

Maybe you have picked up on this already, but I am not Beninoise. I am not even African. This might be of little consequence to you as you read, but here, it is sort of a big deal. Adults stare. Kids yell, “Yovo!” When I go to the Marche Kpasse, the biggest open air market in Ouidah, I am sort of like the visiting zoo attraction. 

So, given all of this information, yesterday, I learned that nothing will make people point and stare at a Yovo more, than if that Yovo takes off her shoes and walks barefoot through the mud streets because the puddles are just too big. When you do that, people don’t just point and stare, they laugh. Hysterically. And so was I, so it was pretty much an entertaining experience for everyone. 

Yesterday, it actually rained from 4:30 in the morning until about 2:30 in the afternoon; if you think back to one of my first blogs, you might remember that rain was one of my biggest concerns before coming here. As an Arizona desert girl, I have always been a fan of short bits of rain in moderation because that’s just how it comes in the desert, but clouds for more than a few days start to drive me batty. But! Surprisingly, I did alright with the 10 straight hours of driving rain, unless you count trying to keep my shoes dry and walking barefoot through the mud as going batty. Hey, I figured it was either have muddy, wet feet for 10 minutes, or muddy wet shoes for a week (85% humidity 24-7 doesn’t really lend to anything ever drying here). I also had lots of great examples of how to deal with the inclement weather from the locals, who unlike Arizonans in rain, really just continue life as usual. No one blows up their Facebook news feeds with “OMG. Rain!!!!” posts or tries to light a fire in the fire place because there are clouds in the sky. 

Nope, they do all the usual things, for example, have a wedding...and sometimes they even invite the Yovos. That’s right, Christian (the French professor) got married yesterday and invited me and my roommates Alice and Robert to join in the mass and celebration. It was really a neat opportunity to see all of the traditional facets of a Catholic wedding intermixed with Beninoise traditions, a perfect example being that after Communion, a bit of a dance party broke out. Maybe I will make it a goal to a wedding everywhere I travel from now on. 

Pictures are a serious pain to upload, so I will post a million when I return and have real internet.

For everyone who made fun of my strappy jacket that I made, please enjoy this picture of my clothesline, made from straps and hooks from the strappy jacket

You know you are in Africa when....your makeshift capo is made from 100% DEET...

For the honor and glory.

Tu Peux M'Appeler Tata Julia

Tu peux m'appeler Tata Julia

Before I introduce you to the kiddos I have been hanging out with this week, I think it is probably important to address a topic that has come up a lot  recently. Both preceding and throughout my trip so far, the subjects of "white saviorism," "neocolonialism," and "voyeuristic voluntourism" have frequented dinner table discussion; the questions of whether or not it is a cliche to be a white girl going to Africa to work in an orphanage or to Central Europe to spend time with and learn about the social issues and ethnic minorities there when we have plenty of our own at home have been posed more than once.

Well, I have been traveling for a month now, and I think I have finally tacked down where I stand. In every corner of the world, people commit terrible atrocities against kids. In every corner I have been to so far though-and as you well know, I haven't been in many (yet)-there are good people working by the grace of God to give to who they can a break and a chance to pass on this grace to others. In Deva, Romania, I had the opportunity to stay at a care center for youth where kids would stay in "families" of five to ten with staff members or volunteers at the center. On the weekends, some were able to return to their families, but while at the center, they were guaranteed daily access to school, activities in the evenings, three meals a day, and a roof over their heads at night. Though the histories of the kids and their reasons for having to come to the center were sad, it was heartening to meet the staff and volunteers who have dedicated their lives to making sure that wherever the children go from this point forward, they are equipped with the opportunities to better their lives as they see fit. And, as the sister of a teacher and the daughter of a stay-at-home mom, I have witnessed first hand how sometimes the labor of people who have taken it upon themselves to live and work entirely for someone else goes unappreciated in today's society; though I know that the staff and volunteers at Deva hardly needed our approval, it was great to be able to recognize them without ever having to put it into actual words that "Yes, we see you, and we see what you do, and it is good. Thank you for whatever sacrifices you have made to be here instead of somewhere else." 

All of this also applies to orphanage where I am working here in Ouidah. The man who started L'Espoir D'Enfants spent most of his childhood with orphans himself, so when he got older, he wanted to create a place where other orphaned children would be safe from anyone who would try to take advantage of them or harm them in any way. The kids from the "orphelinat" are not adopted out to other homes, rather they are free to stay there--with the guarantee of food, shelter, education, medicine, and companions--until they are old enough to leave. Similar to the center in Deva, some of the kids have families or extended families near by that they see on the weekends, but the orphanage takes care of all of their basic needs while they are there. I am not there to change their program at all, just to be another pair of hands. I hope to take the example of Christ that I see in both the children and the adults in charge wherever I go after this, first back to my home, and then where God sees fit for me, to whatever corners of the world await. 

Now, on a slightly different note….

Holy crap, I love kids. 

When I first went to the orphelinat on Thursday, the kids were a little shy for maybe 4 seconds, but then I pull out "Les Oeufs Verts au Jambon" (Dr. Seuss's Green Eggs and Ham)-a gift from my friend Katherine last Christmas- and the ice was broken. Since Thursday, I have been there five times, playing soccer (ok, ok football), reading books (mostly in French), drawing and coloring pictures, teaching some English (we played "How-do-you-say…"), and playing a myriad of games that the kids have taught me that I can never win. I tried to explain the word "gonna" to one of the older boys, and not gonna lie, it was difficult. Maybe instead of trying to define slang, I will just teach more…any suggestions? What sort of English slang must every young English learner know? I was also asked by one of the younger kids if my university only had white people…trying to explain desegregation and diversity is a little complex with a language barrier and given the history of the slave trade between Benin and the United States. The kids are really good sports about my French though, slowing down so I understand them and putting up with the gobbilygook that I piece together and hope they understand. They all call me Tata Julia, which just reminds of Ruth May-my favorite character in Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible (if you haven't read it, what have you been reading all your life? Go get it now.)-who always referred to Jesus as Tata Jesus. "Tata" just means "aunt" so I am not really sure how that worked out in Poisonwood… However it works, I am looking forward to being Tata Julia for the next three and a half weeks, hanging out with the kiddos, practicing my French, and maybe eventually, even winning one of their games =D

Only two pictures, but only because I am literally being eaten alive by mosquitoes at the cafe right now...more to come!

Emmanuel et moi.

Milvine trying REALLY hard to carry around the baby who is nearly half her size.

For the honor and glory.