RevolutionMe

My Very African Thanksgiving

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 13:57:00 +0000

My friend Dave and I weaved ourselves through Marché St. Michel. Heat beat down through the metal roofing making the market mamas even feistier and more difficult than usual. In broken French they asked, “What do you want?” and we said “Todo todo,” the word for turkey in Fon.

We found one quickly. He was beautiful, shiny feathers, large, with an illustrious chin flapping from his beak. We looked at others, but in the end, this one would be our thanksgiving dinner. He would be named America.

Dave had to stay in the city, but fortunately, Carla needed a ride back to Ouidah. America, now stuffed in a cement sack half his size, warmed my back. He was the original turkey sandwich, between myself and Carla, on the back of my motorcycle. Just his head rested outside of bag, his face catching the hot afternoon wind rolling off of my shoulders.

Upon arrival in Ouidah, we jumped off the motorcycle and presented Adrien with the turkey. “It’s old,” he said. I cursed myself for not knowing the difference between an old and young turkey while Adrien snipped off the cords that tied America’s wings and feet together. He stepped out of his sack, fluffed his feathers into full glory and approached is new wife, Lucy, who had all too eagerly been awaiting the arrival of a male turkey in my household. This eagerness was all too evident when, seconds out of the shopping bag, America mounted Lucy, and the poult-making began.

The next days passed all too quickly for dear old America. In addition to a lot of intimate time with Lucy, he wandered around the yard, eating, bothering the other animals, and assuming his position as the largest and prettiest bird in the yard. The ducks would not mess with him, nor would the chickens. The dogs would coyly approach him, and back off as his hissing and gobbling became more furious. Lucy counted the days with eggs, all while fluffing up her feathers to keep his attention.

And then the fatal day came. I sat in front of my work computer, surfing youtube. I found it – how to slaughter a turkey. I watched the video over and over. I made Jacob sit down and watch it twice. He explained it to Adrien. The fattened factory farm turkeys were two times the size of America, but we assumed the process was the same. The deed was done that night. America was no more.

Jacob posing with America on the Eve of Thanksgiving

America spent his post-life day swimming in a bath of rosemary, sage, and salt. A makeshift spit-oven was created. Lydia and I dug a foot deep hole in the ground. We placed cinderblocks around the hole, and placed a metal basin that would rest in between the fire and America.

At 7 o’clock I woke up and realized that I had slept in! I wanted to start the fire much earlier! All day, I spent sitting around the fire watching the bird cook. Tirelessly I turned the bird on the spit, adding water to the basin to conserve some of the drippings. On and on the day went until 5 o’clock when my guests agreed that it was time to eat.

Lydia carved the turkey. Oh no – red. We were sure the juices were dripping cleanly, but it’s a turkey and there’s a lot of meat to be cooked. She carved off for us to start eating and Adrien set up a make shift grill to cook the rest of it quickly.

Lydia and I posing in front of our spit oven.

Nancy Mashing Potatoes.

We had it all – sweet potatoes, stuffing, buttery mashed potatoes, beans, and a fruit salad. Thanksgiving has a spirit unparalleled by other American holidays. No one expects anything, but to eat. And everyone helps. This is my fourth thanksgiving in Benin, and I’m amazed by how easy it is to recreate that environment, even when I’m not with family. Wherever you are, you can recreate it.

You might have to raise and or kill a turkey.

You might have to roast it on a spit.

Although his flavor was great, America was tough. But who could complain? It was Thanksgiving.

America lives on in Lucy.

Turkeys Roasting on an Open Fire. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 06:37:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I wrote an e-mail to Lynne Rossetto Kasper to ask her what to do about my Thanksgiving turkey. A few days later, I received a call from her and this last weekend (November 19th) the show aired.

Check out the show at http://splendidtable.publicradio.org/ or specifically the podcast here.

Me and Pope Benny

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 10:14:00 +0000

This afternoon, Pope Benedict XIV will arrive in Cotonou, Benin. Tomorrow, Friday, he will visit Ouidah! It's funny being on the outskirts of all this, since there was a time in my life so dedicated to putting on religious events.

Anyway, no I'm not involved. I may be on the streets, so watch coverage of his visit. I shouldn't be too hard to find.

Fortunately, I stick out.

Me and My Poultry. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 09:17:00 +0000

So now that I’m no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer, my life has changed in some very drastic ways. I can ride a motorcycle, I was able to pick my own house, have Adrien his brother Jacob live with me, and best of all, have poultry!

Yes, that’s right, among the many things that Peace Corps regulates, it’s the ownership of poultry. I think this is a direct result of the Bird Flu, but even that isn’t so clear. Sure, I may have dabbled in poultry before – Adrien kept some Guinea fowl in front of my old house in village. But, now that I’m on my own, it’s no holds bar poultry raising.

Mr. and Mrs. Duck. This is actually the second female, the first one
ironically drowned in yet to be finished/covered septic tank.

It started with ducks. I don’t know why, but this was my first choice. I felt like ducks just seemed right for me. They're not noisy. They like water. Adrien likes to say “When I’m having a hard day, I can just look at the ducks and it all goes away." It also all goes away with the chickens he bought, and the rabbits, and the two dogs.

But in the end there was really just one bird I wanted.

A turkey.

The original idea was to buy a turkey a few months in advance of Thanksgiving to be eaten at the fete. I don’t know what I was thinking. How could I live side by side with a Turkey and then kill it for dinner?

Even still, as one of my last PCV friends left me behind, I decided to pass on her name to the turkey. So, Lucy the turkey, is probably going to get the Thanksgiving Day pardon. Her gobble-gobbling all day long brings peace to my hectic life. For me, she's the bird that makes it all go away.

Lucy is the queen of the yard. She puts all the other birds in their
places, and no one eats until she's done.

Shoot. I need to get another turkey! Thanksgiving is coming.

This is Chef. I have no reason to post a picture of Chef in this blogpost,
except that he's really cute. Chef keeps trying to eat poultry feed which makes
his poop looks grainy.

Still in Benin. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 11:28:00 +0000

Dear Friends and Family,

This last year has been crazy! You may have noted that my formerly prolific blog posting stopped quickly after I arrived in Ouidah at the International Center for Art and Music in Ouidah (CIAMO) . I started as a Peace Corps Response Volunteer, and now I've become the director! I'm no longer a volunteer, but rather living a simple expat life in Ouidah.

Even still, I have so much to share! After my long vacation from my blog I'm back! I'll be sharing my work at CIAMO as well as my reactions to life here, to help to give you a feel of my everyday experience.

For the time being, check out some of my own creative work and affairs:

Leni and the Songwriters - I filmed and edited a short documentary on our collaboration by internet with our artist in residence at the center.

Life in Ouidah - My colleague Sarah and I taught film making to a group of high school kids. The kids produced videos on just that, life in Ouidah, the city where I live. Here are a few of my favorites:

At the Heart of Vodun - My friend Wilfrid and I have been working on a blog that documents little by little Vodun (voodoo) ceremonies and music. This is really interesting - Vodun is often misunderstand, and we're hoping to promote a better understanding of it abroad. Check out the blog - http://ouidahvodun.blogspot.com .

Anyway, best to you all, more to come!

John Mark

The Poorest of the Poor. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 09:01:00 +0000

I recently traveled to the opposite end of the country with Adrien to see his family in Tangueita, a city in the far north of Benin. It lies right on the border of the well-known Parc Penjari, one of the few places you can go on Safari in West-Africa. This was the second time I had gone there to meet his family. Whereas last time I learned a lot more about Adrien’s roots, this time, a year and a whole lot of experience later, the visit was actually more difficult for me.

I like to pride myself in being well adjusted in Africa. I’m obviously a foreigner, but I try to fit in – eating the food and wearing the clothes, and speaking in an African accent. All this, and I’m still 100% American. It’s a compliment when people call me the “Benino-American,” though I know it’s far from true. I think I’m Benino-American until you take me into a field to poop and I can barely stay balanced as I’m squatting. Not to mention when I avoid taking showers, because the outdoors shower is placed such that everyone can see my naked white torso glowing in the sun. These sorts of things seemed quaint and “good experiences” a year ago when I visited Adrien’s family. This year they were hardships.

I can hardly say that I’m spoiled by living in Ouidah. Constant electricity cuts, cold showers , and getting around on foot still dominate my life, and there’s nothing American about that. But I think living in Ouidah has made me more aware of the enormous class difference between the poorest and the richest in Benin.

When you visit someone in Benin, you should always bring gifts. You might bring bread or cookies or candy for the children. When we prepared to leave the city to go au village to greet Adrien’s mother, Adrien wanted to buy none of these things, but rather soap, about 25 cents a bar, something the women in his family can’t always afford.

The hardest part is seeing what the poorest families do to women. I’ve tried hard not to judge polygamy and polyamory in Benin, but as I near the end of my service, I’m losing control. Adrien’s oldest brother has four wives and is looking for another. According to Adrien (I don’t understand anything that say), as soon as his brother leaves the house the women start complaining about him, how they want to leave him, how they’re mad at him.

One of Adrien's Brother's 4 wifes with her Grandmother.

At one point, they ranted about him for a few hours and he came back, a little tipsy from a celebration he attended, and started talking about how manly he is, how he is going to find another wife, he even joked that Adrien and I could take a few of his because he wants to get rid of them. He said all this in front of a family with four wives and 13 children. Many of those children have extended stomachs and herniated belly-buttons and don’t make it to school because they’re needed at home.

Adrien's Brother working in his flour mill.

I can see polygamy working if it’s a real part of a tradition. I don’t like it, but it might be acceptable if tradition puts men in such a place where they can only have multiple wives if they are able to care for them. Unfortunately, a man is more likely to coincidentally get a woman pregnant on the side, and then because of certain cultural practices, the man takes that woman in as a wife, even if she might be better off to stay with her family.

Another wife.

These are all harsh realities about which, I can do little. My reassurance is really Adrien, that with a little bit of my help and a whole lot of his willpower he’s a shining light for his family. From courageous people like him will come a new generation. Adrien's people really are the poorest of the poor in the world, and at this point where ever he goes, it's a step in the right direction.

Adrien with one of his nephews.

Beau

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 06:16:00 +0000

A conversation i had with a very old man on the street.
Man- You're french?
Me-NO. American.
Man- Oh, but you're handsome.

Vodun Festival

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 14:29:00 +0000

January 10th in Benin is a National Holiday celebrating traditional religions. Benin is an especially pluralist country, playing home to a variety of religions. Of course you have the Christians and the Muslims, but there are also many other minority religions that play a huge role in Beninese society. There is, of course, Voudon (Voodoo) which is largely practiced in the south where I live now, and is seated in Ouidah, where both myself and the supreme chief of Voudon live. There are a lot of other little groups too, for example the Celestial Christians that combine traditional religion with Voudon and there are also the Tron, a type of traditional religion that includes some Muslim elements. On top of that you run in to a large variety of others as well, imported from the US or elsewhere – Eckankar, Rasta, Jehovah’s Witnesses, etc.

It can easily be said that though a majority of Beninese people are Christian or Muslim, but most of them still practice traditional religion on some level. This might be as simple as “gris-gris” charms bought from a talisman to protect their home or family or as complicated as ritual sacrifices. When I attended Catholic Mass in my old village, this was a constant complaint of the priest. This clearly overweight man claimed he didn’t have money to eat, and at the same time, people were spending all their money on charms and rituals.

The January 10th date was chosen, because of its significance to those who are members of Voudon cults. This is the time of the year, if I understand correctly, that they manifest their faith and ask for protection for the coming year. The event takes place in Ouidah, more specifically on the beach. I found myself on the stage of officials sitting behind the U.S. Ambassador to Benin. Our administrator W., was the MC for the entire event, which hosted thousands of Beninese and probably a few hundred Europeans and Americans.
The event consisted of several speeches and unfortunately, the authorities were whisked away before the actual Voudon ceremonies took place. “The mayor is having a reception, want to come?” the Ambassador asked me. “Sure,” I said. I don’t’ think the ambassador realized that it was a sit-down luncheon, at which there was most definitely not a place set for myself, or our administrator who came as well. We ended up eating anyway, and even managed to get a few glasses of champagne.

Throughout the week after, individual family clans have their own events. Many of them have their own Voudon convents where selected Children are raised to speak their secret languages and dance and sing ritual songs. My understanding is that each family has its set of divinities that it is responsible for adoring and preserving. One family with whom I’m pretty close, for example, adores a series of divinities related to fire.

This is really a festive season in Ouidah. The Voudon Festival was accompanied by an International Dance Festival “AGOGO” and an International Film Festival “Quintessence.” It’s been really interesting to see how different events and activities are executed and it has given me a lot of ideas for my work.

A new type of poll dancing.

The delegation of the supreme chief of vudon.

Christmas at work!

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sun, 26 Dec 2010 11:43:00 +0000

The idea of doing something for Christmas seemed almost impossible. We debated whether or not it was worth it. Only in our 2nd month of existence, surely it was too early to showcase our work in Ouidah, but at the same time, people might expect us to do something.

In the end, we settled on a little Christmas Camp. It was three days long and on the last day the students produced a 45 minute variety show with traditional and modern song and dance. It turned out to be a lot of fun.

We brought in four local artists, one traditional dancer and singer, two percussionists, and one artist who dances, sings, and plays the guitar. We selected a group of 8 dancers and invited the choral that was already in place to do the singing. We had some minor attendance problems, and by the time we actually had our variety show our presence was down to 20 (this is mostly the result of communication problems with parents, we’re working on it!).

Wednesday and Thursday morning, we divided up time between the different activities. The dancer, Stanislas worked with the dancers to teach two dances, and the choral to teach the accompanying song. Sim D, a local artist and student, worked on choreography to “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” and I worked with the kids to prepare Il Est Né (unfortunately, the soloist didn’t show up the day of the concert, so I had to sing the verses) and Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (not all of the music was Christmas music).

Working with children on a performance always causes frustration here and there, but the real trophy is the time of the performance, when the children become 100% serious and really pull off the event. I’m including a few pictures here of the show. Happy Holidays to everyone with love from CIAMO.

Here are a few videos:

Kaleta Videos. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 14:32:00 +0000

I'll try to write more about the huge success of our Kaleta workshops. In the mean time, here are some videos I thought everyone might enjoy.

John Mark

Waffel House in Ouidah

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 16:31:00 +0000

Speaking of party tents. . .

Every Weekend A Party

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 10:57:00 +0000

Since I’ve been in Ouidah, I’ve noticed a lot of cultural differences between the north where I lived for two years and the south where I am now. These differences are controlled by many variables. In the north they were mostly Muslim, here in the south they’re mostly Christian. In the north, they were mostly Bariba and Fulani, and here it’s mostly Fon and Yoruba. There is a lot more wealth in the south, because there are better jobs in the cities and they’re closer to where all the imports come in.

These differences can be as simple as the way they greet one another or their version of the “white person” chant. But there are also many complicated differences. For example, women are treated entirely differently here and they often tend to be open willing to speak their mind. But never mind serious matters, the cultural difference I want to discuss today is a bit different. I thus present to you the Ouidian’s affinity for a good party. A funeral, a marriage, a holiday, why not?

Every weekend, I hop on my bike and go on a quick ride to the beach, walk, sit, all the while pondering life and its many virtues. I noticed right away on these trips, they are often complicated by huge tents going up in the early morning. These tents (Which incidentally are usually tarps taken from American billboards for companies such as CocaCola or KCCI Live Action News), often block the most important route in town. They put up a sign “Rue Barré” and sometimes even have people there who try to stop you. Once I went through a tent, and I was forced off my bike. I lied and said I was going to the nearby church, and they let me by, telling me to pray for them.

Under these tents are hundreds of plastic chairs and tables a rented sound system. There’s always a DJ, who doesn’t really know how to use the sound board. As every person enters, he finds it necessary to announce their arrival. In my case, the announcement is usually “Welcome ______, and his friend the yovo!” If I’m lucky they might throw in my title – Professor of Music and Artistic Director of CIAMO! When the DJ isn’t talking, he’s playing unbearably loud music that makes making conversation almost impossible.

But conversation isn’t a worry for me, since they’re likely to be talking in local language, so I listen to the music, watch people, and occasionally glance up and admire Live Action Reporter Carry Shorter. Now comes the part where a family shows how much they really love their deceased and/or married couple(s) (One can fete several occasions at the same party, right?). Everyone has to do the tent, the chairs, even the sound system. The real investment is in food in beverages. The meal takes place in multiple courses. These courses could be considered each a meal unto themselves. First you might get a salad usually including fish or hotdogs, peas, cabbage, carrots and a lot of mayonnaise. After that, you might get Riz au Gras (Jollof Rice), with a good sized chunk of whatever animal was killed for the event. If you’re really showing off, it’s a beef, but a big mutton can be equally impressive. If you’re going for max meat for your money it’s, unfortunately for me, fish. There might be a third course too, if the family is doing really well, which usually consists of some kind of pate, remember that’s the corn flour boiled in water, with sauce and more meat (potentially a different animal).

And of course, beverages are essential. Beverage companies in Benin are still on the reusable bottle system, which I think is fantastic. People bring in cases of beer, soda pop, and water for their guests. Here, if you really want to invest, you bring in bottles of liquor and cans of imported beverages. This is where the party goes downhill for me. I enjoy a nice beer and the beer I usually drink here is definitely not a high quality. When the imports come in you start drinking Heineken, Guinness, and Bavarian. Did I mention this is all free for the guest? If they have it, they keep bringing you more, and, of course, it would be culturally insensitive to refuse, so you drink. “_____ has lost his mother in law. You must drink for him!” I might be told.

Just as the alcohol might have warmed you up a bit, you might barely notice a troupe of dancers (traditional or modern) or a band of instruments or a group of drummers, or any combination of those listed. If you’re an important family member and/or white, the artists will surely approach you and play loudly in your face. They probably won’t go away until you give them some kind of money. The appropriate way to give the artists money is to press it against their forehead. If the coin or bill sticks, that means they’re sweating, ergo doing a good job. This concept isn’t so new to me. During Ramadan up north, drummers would come into my concession and play loudly at 4am until the landlord woke up and gave them money.

I love it. I love the traditions that surround every fête. I love that music and dance plays such an important role in their traditions. I really love it. It’s like an Irish wake to the 50^th power. On days where I’m tired of being called yovo, tired of people asking for gifts, a good party takes all those annoyances away.

The elaborately dressed gungun, a yoruba tradition that brings back the spirits of ancestors from the dead. They dance around a circle for a period of time. When they're ready for the crowd to disperse, they begin lunging at the crowd. It's bad luck to touch the gungun, so people run screaming.

Another gungun. They come out 8-10 dancers at a time.

This tent is nice!

The local dancers at a funeral I went to. We're not taking off this hat-puff thing until you give us money.

CIAMO In Action

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 07:04:00 +0000

Getting Started. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 17:08:00 +0000

From CIAMO

“Getting a project started is always the hardest part.” This is something that many people have said to me in French and in English since I made it back on the African continent. This gives me a lot of hope for the future of CIAMO, but unfortunately that hope is no cure. What we’re doing here requires a lot of hard work. The past two weeks have been crazy. I’ve been wearing two hats, one as the Interim Artistic Director and one as the Professor of Music. I like both hats. . . a lot.

On the Artistic side, I’ve been working a lot with our administrator to get the program up and running. We’re starting an association called ArtForceAfrica, an association committed to the use of the arts in development. CIAMO will be a project of this association. The administrator is also doing a really good job maintaining contacts, and forcing me to be a part of that. We’ve had several meetings with people at ministries and in various offices/foundations around Cotonou. I’ve been Cotonou several times a week for the last several weeks. It’s a headache getting back and forth, but I’m getting a lot of work done.

This project requires a lot of dreaming – seeing the big picture in 5, 10, 20 years. The biggest headache is taking all the dreams that everyone in the team has for the project and identifying and simplifying those things so that we can actually make them happen at the center. The building built for CIAMO is already starting to look small for everything we want to do!

Most challenging for me is the teaching aspect. I only get the kids for six hours a week, each class about an hour. I’m learning with them, reading books and doing research on how to teach music to kids. Every class is a big challenge for me. I have the six classes of students. Since they’re all blank slates in term of music education, I have to start from the beginning with all of them. To make things easier, I’m dealing with 3 lessons plans a week, one for CI and CP (Kindergarden/1^st Grade), one for CE1 and CE2 (2^nd, 3^rd grade and one for CM1 and CM2 (4^th, 5^th grade). They’re all learning similar things, just at different paces.

From CIAMO

This week, I put the first musical notes in front of the eyes of my oldest students (CM1 and CM2). I explained the difference between a note and silence. We clapped to simple phrases – We are Beninese (Nous sommes Beninois) – and then I added rests in the sentence and had them try to read it. They caught onto it like they were born to understand. We moved from those simple things to measures of beats, where we clapped and played rhythms using percussion instruments. It’s amazing to see students, in 30 minutes, going from seeing a round circle with a line on it, to seeing a note noire and silence soupir.

This experience was inspiring for me and tells me that I can move a little bit faster with the older kids. I’m looking forward to when they can really read simple melodies so I can start teaching them recorder. With the younger kids, we’re focusing on repeating rhythms, maintaining steady tempos, and recognizing the difference between fast and slow, high and low, loud and soft. The kids seem happy to come to their lessons and greet me with a lot of excitement, even on the street. In the area around the school, I’m no longer “Yovo Yovo” I’m “Teacher! Teacher!”

What’s coming up? In the next few weeks, we’re developing private piano lessons, a chorale, and hopefully by January we’ll have dance and drumming lessons as well. In January Sarah comes, our art teacher, another Peace Corps Response Volunteer, this will start up the whole visual arts portion of the project. Anyway, we’re having fun in Ouidah. Every day is a challenge, but the project is really taking off so I can’t complain!

From CIAMO

L'Ambassadeur. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 15:08:00 +0000

At my going away party in village, I had to give a little speech, thanking everyone for their hospitality during my two years there. Of course, I had to include Adrien. “He doesn’t just wash my clothes and sweep my floors. Everyone jokes that I’m an ambassador of the US. Honestly, he’s the ambassador, who has helped me more than anyone to understand and accept culture here in Benin.” I’m sure that my relationship with Adrien confuses people. No he’s not my boyfriend, he’s too old to be my child. He’s my best friend in Benin – a relationship that is uniquely itself. Within 24 hours of his arrival, I was making new friends. He was chatting with my neighbors, playing with their dogs, making his way through Ouidah like a star. My quality of life is definetly better when he's around, but now he's on his way back to village where he needs to stay the course and finish the first cycle with a passing grade. He'll be back down for Christmas. That's not too far away.

Adjara, Benin - The Village of Percussion

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 07:09:00 +0000

Though I brought a lot of materials back to Benin for our project, we certainly didn't need to buy drums and percussion. When I first got back to Benin, I asked someone where you go to buy drums, and he told me about a village near Porto Novo that specializes in percussion.
It's normal here for villages to have a trade - but usually it has to do with a specific crop. This reminded me of when I was in Ghana and there was a brass casting village, along with a village for several other royal crafts.
Anyway, for a small chunk of cash we got about 8 drums! This was a really cool experience and I hope to go back there before I leave to buy some drums for myself. Here are some pictures.

Guitarist Leni Stern, Filmmaker Herve Cohen, and CIAMO Administrator Wilfrid (who got us pretty amazing deals!)

We stuffed the trunk with instruments.

The Village.

Opening Ceremonies of CIAMO. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 06:40:00 +0000

Friday was an incredible day for me. Since I've been here in Benin, I've attended a handful of ceremonies that are similar. Peace Corps things, Camps, Awards Ceremonies. I can honestly say that I have never seen anything as wonderful as what we produced yesterday.

Authorities came from the Ministry of Culture, of Primary School Education, the Mayor, Peace Corps, and the American Embassy. Usually at these sorts of ceremonies, people talk forever, reading a speech prepared for them, without passion or enthusiasm. For one of the first times, yesterday, I saw a group of authorities that was actually excited about the project. I think it's something new, something different. You get tired of inaugurating school buildings and wells and hospitals (all of which are desperately needed). This is a new idea, new inspiration. A simply worded goal, to improve arts and music education in Benin, is not a simple task. People are excited about it and that gives me energy to push forward.

A delegation of Americans came, the founder and her best friend, amazing electric guitarist Leni Stern, and filmmaker Herve Cohen. During the week, we had a lot of serious meetings about the school and what it will take to get it up and running and successful. What we want to do is so much bigger than our current mission in Benin, but teaching kids art and music is always going to be at the base of what we do. We're hoping to have international artists come to the center to teach the kids and to help professional artists to develop their crafts. We also hope to make arrangements with schools in the US - study abroad, j-term, that sort of thing - to encourage cultural sharing. This is all very exciting and I can't express enough how privileged I feel to be a part of this. Here's the last week in pictures.

This is a display table with some of music supplies we're using.

This is for real.

Sarah helping out Herve shotting the kids doing the Torrance Test of Creative Thinking

Myself with Wilfred our new administrator

This is the entourage.

More pictures to come. I'm having trouble uploading.

The First Pictures. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 10:17:00 +0000

The center I'm working at is just being finished. They did the painting this last week, furniture is on the way, and we'll have our opening ceremony next week. They were originally going to build it at ground level, but than the mayor protested, saying the kids need place to play. In effect, the center is on cement stilts!

Voila the space for children to have sport class. I hope they don't whack their heads on the cement pillars!

We brought in some local artists to teach the kids some song and dance for the inauguration.

They like it a lot

Floods and 3rd World Coverage

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 09:01:00 +0000

A few of my friends pointed out this article on yahoo. What it reports, from what I've heard, is true. The rains have been a really big problem this year, all over Benin. Adrien even tells me that in my former village, a lot of houses (probably mud constructions) have fallen and a lot of people are looking for houses, which made the cost of renting go up significantly.

One funny thing to note, though, is the picture on this article. Clearly a stock photo, Yahoo took a picture of Ganvie, a stilt village located ON a lake, to illustrate the flooding taking place here. Go figure, they chose a picture of a village that is flooded 100% of the time to show what's taking place. Honestly, maybe they did this because they would have had to go au village to see the flooding.

AP File

You Gotta Know the Territory. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 08:43:00 +0000

You Gotta Know the Territory. . .

I’m going crazy here in Benin, trying to plan the Grand Opening (Inauguration) of our new building. Everything that I’m required to do here is completely against my American, Anglophone, simple sensibilities. What would you do if you were having an event like this? You would print out invitations, and give them to people, including the important people, that you want to come. Simple right? Not in Benin.

First, you have to have the permission of the Mayor of the city you’re working in, especially if he’s invited. No problem right? Dear Mr. Mayor. I’m very happy to inform you that we will be holding our opening ceremony. . . etc. . . Your presence would be very much appreciated. Not so much. . . Try this. . .

“Mister Mayor, I have the honor and the respect to come to you to inform you that the official ceremony of the opening of the Center. . . le 29 Whenever 2010 a . . .. Mister Mayor, the founder of the center personally brings this to your awareness and thanks you in advance for all of the availability that your offices have taken in the creation and the work of the said center. Mister mayor, in hope that we will meet you before the date of the ceremony, I beg you to receive my most sincere salutations and my very high consideration.”

Let the love fest begin! Anyway, after you’ve formally invited the mayor you can proceed to invite other important people to your event. Maybe a minister. Remember, Benin is the size of some large American cities, but you’re still required to treat a minister as a minister, a national head of a national department. You send him a very similar invitation AND a description of the project, so that if he comes, or one of his mignons comes, he knows exactly what project he is supporting, and his people can write a speech for him for the occasion.

If someone can’t make it, you might get a letter back from them, like this:

"Mister, I have to the honor to inform you that we have received your letters, in which you stipulate the opening of your center on the, etc etc etc. Mister, we are in regret that we announce to you that the (insert very important person here) will not be able to honor in his person the ceremony. In effect, the important person is out of the territory until the end of October. We're counting on your understanding, please agree, Mister, the expression of our most distinguished salutations. Signed, the assistant of the very important person."

When you’re done with invitations, you have to get to work planning the actual event. That is to say, which important person will speak first. Usually the most important person speaks in the last place. Who is more important a minister’s representative or the mayor or the director of your organization. . . etc, etc. Every important person comes with their speech, that you pretty much prepared for them by giving them the description of the project, and they are all treated with immense respect. Everyone begins their speech with Cher Monsieur le directeur de corps de la paix, Cher Monsieur l'ambassadeur de belgique, Cher Madame la directrice de circomscription, etc etc, before they actually begin their prepared speech.

I'll be sure to take lots of pictures and keep you informed. This event is going to be exciting! (weak smile).

Back au Benin!. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 18:46:00 +0000

Here we go again. . .

It seems that I’ve developed a bad habit of putting myself in lonely places about every two years. It’s always difficult to go somewhere where you don’t really know anyone. You become an island hoping for the sea of loneliness to recede connecting you with dry land elsewhere. I know that sounds obnoxiously metaphorical, but I’ve learned it’s really true. Pretty much everywhere I’ve gone in live, I’ve put myself in an incredibly boring and lonely situation. The difference is that in college I didn’t realize that it really gets better. In graduate school I had my doubts. In peace corps I was hopeless. Every time, I ended up finding friends that I love, so now I sit here in my bright yellow living room, waiting, knowing it will come in good time.

My time home reminded me how much I love my family and my closest friends. When you’re away so much, you learn to treasure quality time. Sometimes you even get upset at the people who don’t have time for you. Shame on them for having lives and jobs! I enjoyed a lot of time with my mother and father, who are in an interesting stage of their lives, having retired only a year ago.

I enjoyed a variety of activities that I now consider to be quite cultural. Eating out, going to the parade and county fair, boating, shopping in huge stores, just to name a few, all the while accompanied by wonderful people. Mom, Dad, and I drove the minivan across America. We spent quality time with my sister Ann and her beautiful baby, Eliza. We moved on to New Jersey, where I spent time with my other two nieces and my sister Maria. It’s so weird living abroad, and coming to home to see that all of my siblings have such grown up lives with houses and husbands/wife and children.

Thanks to Maria’s stellar location, I was able to see a lot of friends in both D.C. and N.Y.C.. It was quite a challenge to see all the friends I’ve collected from undergrad, grad school, and Peace Corps, but I pulled it off.

I flew out of JFK with five pieces of baggage: two for myself, one filled with recorders, one filled with music stands and tennis balls, and one box with a brand new 88key digital piano tucked inside. I spent a lot of time worrying about whether or not they would accept the luggage, but they did. After a long flight to Brussels, a half a day in the dingy African terminal with no food (go figure the most expensive flights fly out of the worst terminals), I arrived in Cotonou at about 7:30pm. I automatically threw my sweatshirt in my baggage. No more cold! I should mention that I spent a large part of my last 24 hours in New Jersey under a blanket because it was so cold there. I didn’t have the energy or the clothes to get used to it.

After a day of paperwork, a fon lesson, and chasing various people around the office, I was sworn in at Peace Corps staff meeting. I was taken to Ouidah where I met the directrice and directeur of the primary schools and saw the Centre International d’Art et de Musique de Ouidah (CIAMO) which is on the grounds of said primary schools. It’s kind of a crazy building. It’s lifted up on big cement pillars. They wanted to build it on the ground level but in the mayor wanted it lifted up so the space below could be used for sports and activities. It is a nice building, with fans and modern plumbing. In the coming weeks the furniture and painting will be done, just in time for our grand opening at the end of the month.

My house is also really nice. I was very disappointed to see that it was on one of the most travelled highways in Benin, if not west-Africa. This is the coast highway that connects Nigeria to Benin to Togo to Ghana and beyond. I was surprised that they could even put me here with PC regulations, but they did I’m going to live with it. The house is in a closed concession with a big garage door that opens up to the highway. Normally the concession is locked, so it’s not too bad. The bright side is that I have a kitchen with a sink and a bathroom with toilet and shower! It’s weird getting up in the middle of the night and not having to leave my house to go to the restroom!

I am very lonely here, but just like the last couple times I put myself in this situation, I know friends will come along. I’ve also learned that the friends you rush to make are never your closest, so I’m taking it easy and enjoying some down time before the project really takes off and my life becomes busier than I was in village.

Anyway, turn the page. This is a new experience in Benin. I’m practically in a different country. These are different people speaking a language that I can’t even greet in. This project is very new to me. How am I going to teach these kids music? Music like what Miss Morgan taught me in elementary. I remember hating it, but secretly loving it at the same time. I’m excited for the potential that this project has to offer. Now to get started! Stay tuned to my blog for more about life in Ouidah and the project.

On Aid and Development

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 14:21:00 +0000

Since I've been home, I've listened to two "Speaking of Faith" episodes that reflect heavily my feelings about aid in the developing world. One thing that Peace Corps Volunteers learn really quickly is that there is good aid and there is bad aid. Good aid is helping people in developing countries to make sustainable progress towards their development goals For example, what we do, bringing in a native English speaker to teach and to help teachers to improve over a 6 year time period. Bad aid is the quick fix, where money is thrown at a problem, buildings are built, and the aid is finished. For example, Project Play Africa, who raised funds to bring a shipping can full of soccer balls to Benin, not assessing need, and with no long-term goals or implications. Sure, people loved getting free soccer balls, who wouldn't, but as soon as Project Play left, the volunteers on the ground to teach English, help businesses, and improve health and sanitation, were fielding more requests for free balls than for help in any of our own work. Who doesn't want a free ball? By helping students and teachers, we are hopefully encouraging improvement in English education. By dumping balls in Africa, they're getting lots of smiles, warm fuzzy feelings, and wasting hundreds of dollars.

In the episode, "A Different Kind of Capitalism," Krista Tippet interviews Jacqueline Novograts about her Acumen Fund, which encourages donors to invest money into projects. Investors don't get returns, but rather, returns are reinvested. Ms. Novograts very aptly point out that if a present is given to someone, they'll fuss over it, even if they don't like it. They'll bring it out and put it on the mantel when you come by, and put it back into storage when you're not around. I see a lot of presents in Africa, things that say "From the American People," the Danes, the EU, and others, that are not in use. This could be something as simple as a broken water pump or a locked up and unused outhouse. Surely, when the donors come to see their work, they spruce things up, and make a big scene, but as soon as they leave, these things go back into disuse.

This was especially present at the Catholic Mission in my village. The church had received money to construct a library and formation houses from Italy. They built beautiful buildings and neither of them are really used. The Italians get a warm feeling, and the local Catholics, a sense of pride that things were built, but for what?

Novograts invests money in companies and then sends international consultants to help them to develop plans, and they end up being more successful and even creating jobs. In my time in Benin I've seen various international projects come and go. People get jobs with NGOs, but as soon as these projects are finished, they're out of a job again. Meanwhile telecommunication companies and transportation companies are managing to grow quickly in West-Africa and bringing a lot of jobs along to accompany them. Capitalism is really not a bad thing for Benin. Anyway, listen to this conversation at Speaking of Faith

The second speaking of faith episode was called the Ethics of Aid. It was an interview with a rather pretentious Kenyan, Binyayanga Wainaina. He's a well known author and columnist. He talked a lot about the face of Africa presented in America. He comments that NGOs find pictures of the poorest, hungriest, dirtiest children to help raise money for their projects. In his satirical essay, "How to Write About Africa," he advises:

And dead bodies. Or, better, naked dead bodies. And especially rotting naked dead bodies. Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the 'real Africa', and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about this: you are trying to help them to get aid from the West.

I think this really runs in tandem with the Novograts episode. Africans don't really need pity money, they need investment and good, sustainable aid. Aid that comes from honest, dedicated, and long term relationships between the developed and developing worlds. He talks about how, contrary to the previous paragraphs that I've written, the Catholic Church does a lot better job than other organisations because they are more permanent and on the ground. They have a strong sense of the needs of the community, because they live in the community. If we really want to help we need to be on the ground, living every day life with the host country, and constantly reassessing needs.

Anyway, both of these programs are worth a listen. They're very reflective of my view of development. Check it out.

Some Videos

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 15:51:00 +0000

Some of my favourite students talking about life in Benin. Ignore my atrocious villegoise accent.

Bariba Dancers

Love Languages. . .

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 05:38:00 +0000

In these last couple of days in Benin, I'm trying to reflect on what I like and dislike about Benin and how the two compliment each other. Its a way to prepare myself for another year.

Like: Idle Time

One thing I've really learned to love about life here is that you can spend large amounts of time doing nothing and no one judges you. Often in my house I would get really bored. I couldn't read anymore, I couldn't write anymore, I couldn't watch anymore episodes of whatever it was that I was watching on my computer. After about 3 months in village, I discovered that there are a lot of solutions to this idle time. I often would go and sit with my friend Raouf who sells gas out of liquor bottles on the road or my friend Chijoke who sells motorcycle parts near bye. Sometimes we would chat about life, love, politics, and sometimes we would just sit in silence watching the cars passing by. This was how I really got to know my village, sitting silently and observing.

The walks were good for me too. Taking long walks alone or with Sarah, sometimes with Adrien, were always relieving and fulfilling. I loved the quiet of the orchards, greeting people passing by and meeting their confused looks about what I was doing "au champ," and the indepth conversations I shared with Adrien.

I really enjoy

Dislike: Gift Giving

Il faut me donner. From the minute I unpacked my taxi in village to the minute I stuffed my stuff into the taxi to go to Cotonou to finish my service, people have blatantly asked for presents. Not in a polite way, literally, they say "You most give it to me." It's not necessarily a class thing. Even my landlord, who is filthy rich and who knows I don't like him, asked me for my running shoes twice. I hated to take my camera out to take pictures, ride my bike in village, even go to the market and buy food sometimes, because people would almost invariably say, "Il faut me donner." If it was raining and I had an umbrella, "Il faut me donner." When I had my going away party, people with whom the only conversations I have ever had included, "Il faut me donner," asked why they didn't receive an invitation. When you do give, there's a lack of gratitude, so you really don't feel good about your gift giving. Even the people to whom I'm closest, if I give them something, they might mention the gift's deficiencies.

There are really two reasons. First of all, gift-giving is a part of their culture. If you travel, even if it's just to the local city, you're expected to bring back something. They'll often even say "What did you bring for me?" or "You must bring back good things for me." Secondly, years of free, senseless giving to west-Africa has left many people here with the idea that that is what we (westerners) are in Africa to do. Now that development has changed to focus on sustainability, eg, send me to a village and help students and teachers to learn to communicate better in English, it's really quite a pain that we spent all those year giving. That's what they want. They realize I can do good things in their village, but in the end there's really no "legacy," because I didn't build or give anything.

What I've Learned about Myself

Gift-giving is NOT my love language. I never read the book about love languages, but I'm pretty familiar with it thanks to my mother's and sisters' obsession with it. I don't really like gift giving. If I did, Beninese people would probably like me more (I'm not saying they don't like me, but they must think I'm rude for not giving). At the same time, I AM a quality-time person. Even if there's not a whole lot of communication, I'm happy when I'm with people. During my service, when I catch myself feeling down, I make haste to get out of my house, and find people I enjoy being around. My worst days were when none of those people were available to me.

Saying Goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (John Mark) — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 11:52:00 +0000

Saying Goodbye

As I started packing up and ending my village life, I couldn’t help thinking, “here I go again.” What I’m living right now, I think, is the life of a 20something. I’m liminal and unsure but at the same time more active than I’ll probably every be.

Peace Corps puts you in an interesting situation because in the end you end up with two sets of solid friends. Your friends from the country hosting you and your fellow volunteers who support you, hear you out, love you, and hate you throughout the two years. You’re in it together. You end up with a lot of people to home you need to say “au revoir.”

Last week I set out to throw my own going away party. I’ve had a few going away parties in my life, and I see now that having people throw a party for you is the way to go. Here in Benin, if you have a reason to celebrate, it’s you that needs to make it happen.

I sent Adrien to the market where he bought us a sheep to slaughter. The creature baaed unceasingly and even managed to escape right before the slaughter. I was impressed as Adrien and some other villagers reduced the living creature to a pile of meat and bones. I told him that if you put an animal in front of an American and said, “this is your dinner,” the American would probably starve.

There was uniform for the evening, bright blue tissue with bows and hearts, and several teachers bought it so we could have matching clothes, as is the festival tradition here in Benin. I bought the supplies so that Mama could make riz au gras, jollof rice, to accompany the meat. That evening, about 40 people came, many uninvited. They ate well, drank well, said thank you and went home.

Three days later I was packing a taxi with mattresses, my bike, furniture, everything that I wanted to bring to the south for the next stage of my life. Since I had the free taxi, thanks to Peace Corps, Adrien joined me for the trip. We spent two days enjoying Cotonou. Awing ourselves with huge super markets, big houses, and good eats. We went to the beach so Adrien could get his obligatory saltwater to prove that he really did make it, and invited a photographer to take our picture, soaking wet because of the rain, on the beach. Saying goodbye to Adrien wasn’t that difficult, knowing that I’ll see him again.

A lot of my volunteer friends have already left. Now I’m in Cotonou a few of my friends who are left, waiting to close my service (COS) and getting nervous about my trip home on Friday.

See you soon.