John Henry

I was just imagining how that back in the States I used to keep track of the days in my head by thinking about what television shows were on that night (yes this is sad but true). Now, I keep track of the days by what classes I have, by what days I can play basketball, and by what day the market is during the week. It seems that my priorities have shifted just a little bit. Although, that it not go unnoticed that within the Peace Corps Volunteer culture, there is a serious subculture devoted to getting the latest movies and television shows--all the best bootleg in the business.

Today’s Wednesday night finds me returning back to my house all sweaty and belly full. Wednesday is one of the nights that I can go play basketball and because these nights place me on the other side of the town, I am able to indulge in the tasteful delights of my salad lady. She’s a little expensive, but well worth the splurge for such special occasions. Playing basketball, as always, put me a good mood and I figured that instead of doing something “productive” that I would type a journal instead. Not to mention that the Grand Opening of the cyber in Bassila is tomorrow and quite frankly, I don’t want to go to the grand opening empty handed technologically. Another noted success of today is that I held my first Correspondence Club meeting. I had 23 kids show up, and I think that it went really well. We all introduced ourselves with a little game and then we moved on to great “name illustrations” where everyone wrote their name and then choose three adjectives that best described his/her personality (this was all done artistically, of course--I told them to make it pretty). My example was “Carly: intelligent, strong, beautiful.” I was trying to get everyone (especially the girls who were present) to think positively about his/herself. I also want to send these in the letters that they will eventually write back to the States. From there, we moved on to what they can write in a letter. It took awhile to get them going, but once they realized they could speak “franglais” things picked up a little. We finished with brainstorming all the things that you could put in a letter to make it more interesting to Americans: soda/beer labels, scraps of tissue, drawings, photos, etc. I felt really happy with the way things went, and I hope that I can keep most of the kids coming back (though I realize that the end of the school year is quickly approaching).

This weekend looks to be just has busy as I will heading up to Djougou to watch the Sports Competition Extravaganza or whatever they’ve taken to calling it. I just know that there will be several kids from Manigri competing and several more from Bassila (including a boys and girls basketball team) who will also compete. I, naturally, want to go and cheer on the squads being sure to wear my CEG Manigri attire. I might go so far as to body paint as well, but I haven’t decided quite yet.

Internet tomorrow will actually being exciting for another reason other than the obvious pleasure I receive from posting in order to keep everyone who is intently reading this oh-so-interesting blog up to date with my latest adventures. You see, in my meandering across the world wide web, I ran across several people who already know that they will be coming to Benin in July 2008, and I am curious to see if this number has expanded from last time. It’s really cool to see that things are coming around full circle. In addition it’s nice to put faces and names to the empty slots on a piece of paper sitting in the directors office. I’m very excited to meet all the newcomers and hear all their stories and ease all their worries and let them know that despite everything, it somehow all works out in the end. There was a motto supplied by one of the women who worked our initial staging in Philadelphia that has stuck with me all this time: “This, too, shall pass.” Meaning, good or bad, everything will pass with time. So, enjoy the good and ignore the bad because the bad is just a temporary bump in the way of something really great around the corner. That stupid, little simple motto has kept me going--that and I whole lot of Bruce Springsteen. Actually, I’ve been thinking about writing Bruce a fan mail letter; I figure that he might actually read it if it’s postmarked Benin, West Africa. I can’t decide if that would be a little obsessive, however. Gotta love the Boss, though.

*WARNING: This next rambling is truly long and is most likely uninteresting to anyone who did not change my diapers; however, if you decide to proceed, know that you were fairly warned*

Last night brought the first really hard rain in a long time; last night also brought my worst nights sleep since being in country. I crashed early at about 10 o’clock, but couldn’t seem to fall asleep because of a throbbing headache and the simple fact that is was just too stinking hot--every position I tired to make myself comfortable was met by more sweat in a different body crevice. Finally, I decided that if I listened to a little bit of French on the radio, it would help ease me to sleep. Bingo. 10 minutes of French , and I was out like a light. However, I was awoken about an hour later by the rain punishing my tin roof; I was afraid things were going to cave in on me. Not to be stopped, I grabbed an ear plug and rolled over. Not thirty minutes later, I woke up to the splashing of dirt and rain on my face. It seems that not only was my fan pulling in cold air, it was also pulling in every element from outside as well. Thus, finding the left side of my bed to be also covered in this delightful muddy mixture, I flopped over to the right side, turned over and went back to sleep. Shortly thereafter, I woke up again, this time not to rain, but to my own filthy sweat covering my body. It seemed that the tenacity of the rain had cut the power and therefore, I was officially fan-less. Determined that I was so sleepy it didn’t matter, I tired to roll over and pretend that I was wasn’t totally drenched in sweat, mud, and rain water. One hour of tossing and turning and grumbling to myself later, I decided that the living room would be cooler because there is better airflow there, and with that, I moved my sleepy self to the couch. That genius plan lasted ten minutes before I realized that it was still freaking hot and that if I was going to make the effort to move that I might as well move outside where it’s much colder. So, seeming like a good plan at the time, I got up again and set up my cot outside (it should be noted that the cot is made of cement bags). Wrapping myself in a sheet and collapsing on the cot it’s not twenty minutes before I realize the combination of my sweat and the cement bags is causing me to actually stick to the cot. So, once again, I get up and grab a sheet from the bedroom as well as my mosquito net figuring that the next step in my uncomfortable night will be getting stung by a scorpion or something horrendous. Twenty minutes of setup later, I’m back bed. This time, as I try to fall asleep I am only aware of one terrible truth: it is freakin freezing outside. All this time I wanted cold, and now I can literally not fall asleep because it’s too cold, too cold. After my one hour stubborn fit, I get up again and go to the bedroom to grab pants, a shirt, my fleece and another sheet. Finally settling down again for the umpteenth time, I curl into a ball and try my luck at finally falling asleep. Half an hour later, I am awakened again by the wonderfully cheerful cock-a-doodle-dooing of the roosters. At this point it is 5:30 in the morning, and I sit up to hear the running of my fan once again. Fed up with the cold and just wanting to get an hour of good sleep before I have to wake up for school, I run back to my bed and curl up in my covers. Finally drifting off to sleep after thirty minutes a hear a knock, knock, knock on my metal door. I ignore it. I hear it again. I ignore it again. I hear someone come to my bedroom window, “Bonjour! I need my phone.” My little neighbors who I kindly charged their phone for last night decided that 6:15 in the morning was a good time to stop by and get it. With only fifteen minutes left to sleep before I had to get up, perhaps it is obvious to state that I did not fall back asleep. And that was night. I arrived at school terribly giddy and I think that my students seem to appreciate my manic energy. Everybody hates an 8 a.m.