Hello, Hard Work

Jun 23, 2024

8 min read

I thought I came into this experience humbly. I knew that I would have much to learn. I knew I was overconfident in my French and would probably discover how much further I had to go. I knew transitioning from many conveniences like washing machines, air conditioning, and consistent water access would be a shock. Nonetheless, I wasn’t mentally prepared for this feeling of absolute newness and the near-perfect reliance on others I’ve been experiencing this week. It’s left me with a lot to think about.

While the last ten days of core training at the training center were long and arduous, what I took for granted was that the conference rooms we did our learning in were air-conditioned. The school where we do our village-based training is very much not air-conditioned. We’ve fully jumped into the meat of language training and technical teaching training. It’s very exciting to finally talk shop and work on my ability to communicate myself, but doing all this in the heat from 8:00 am -5:30 pm takes a great toll. I’m sure I’ll adapt, but I haven’t yet. This is hard.

The students of the primary school where we do our training were still in school on Monday. The children were fascinated with us, at first referring to us as “yovo,” which is a word for white person/foreigner. Last week, we learned that while it may not bother us yet, we are about to hear “yovo” everywhere we go. When we can, we need to correct others and help them learn our names, letting them know that we do not wish to be referred to by our skin tone.

My friend Henry was the quickest to kindly correct the children on Monday, even (at first) inadvertently starting the chant, “Henry! Henry! Henry!” amongst around 60 children. After this event, even if Henry isn’t present, some children still refer to me and my colleagues as Henry.

One exception is my commute to school. In Beninese culture, greeting one another is a necessary show of politeness and respect, even when you’re on the way somewhere. I’ve made a great effort to say hello to the others that I see. When I hear “bonjour, yovo,” I stop and say “je ne suis pas yovo. Je m’appelle Lena. Repetez, s’il-vous plait.” (I am not yovo. My name is Lena. Please repeat.) This consistent response has yielded some results. I still get “yovo” but I also get “bonjour, Lena” and “bonsoir, tata Lena” (tata being equivalent to big sister in Fon). It is incredibly validating to be referred to by name on the way to school. Slowly, I am becoming known in my community. It’s in a small capacity, but I only have small communicative capacities right now. For me, this is huge.

Wednesday was Juneteenth, and two current service volunteers came to the center to present on the federal holiday. I thought it was incredibly thoughtful to take time to consider the legacy of slavery here in Benin and at home. There’s a lot of history and culture to thoughtfully consider. The diaspora changed both my home here and my home in the United States forever. What can I learn to be a better advocate? I am looking forward to approaching this topic mindfully with special effort towards supporting my fellow volunteers, especially my friends of color. I appreciated the volunteers who facilitated for their considerate handling of a serious topic and the following celebration of Juneteenth with dance and fried Okra. They taught us a basic zydeco dance. Zydeco is a result of cultural fusion between French, African, and Texas practices. This day was a great balance of the solemnity of previous tragedy and the highlighting of black joy. It was a privilege to be in attendance, and I hope to continue to explore these topics with mindfulness.

Things at my host home have been good but constantly marked with miscommunication and brush-ups against the language barrier. I have not seriously offended anyone, but I have accidentally been rude many times. It’s such a marathon to spend so long in class and then have to attempt to fulfill my needs in French. I am a baby learning how to cook and clean in this new environment. My family is incredibly supportive and handles mistakes with grace, but it’s difficult to never know how to do things right. As someone who prides myself on articulating life with language, it is genuinely painful to appear in what I perceive as such a remedial light. I have never been able to say so little.

But this is one of the places I must necessarily shift my mindset. I have been living in Benin and speaking French for all of two weeks. It’s a matter of course that I am a language and culture toddler. I look at everything I can’t do as a failure, the entire language of French looms over me. When I look at it like that, of course, I’m drowning.

An apt metaphor the Peace Corps used is that using my new language skills is like learning an instrument. Maybe I've learned correct principles in theory, but with an instrument, my fingers need the chance to learn to cooperate. It's the same with actually speaking and understanding.

Here’s the shift I’m going to implement: I celebrate what I can do. I break the language into small, digestible parts and focus on building in class and at home. I acknowledge how newly I have been immersed and give myself grace for the mistakes I am making. I will recognize these mistakes as the vehicle through which I will claw my way to proficiency. I’m going to enjoy this language and cultural youth. I haven’t experienced it in a long time. This is a chance to shake out the dust and re-establish myself as a person of two worlds instead of just one. It will take more time than I want it to, but I am committed to this goal.

Make mistakes, embrace corrections. Play in the mud and clean up. That’s the plan.

My host family really cares for me. My maman scoops me more protein. I’m never eating enough to be well-nourished in her opinion. She helps me consider the best deals on goods and wares. She worries for me and watches out for me. My papa helps me practice my language. My brother helped me upgrade my mosquito net setup. No more fixing the net in the middle of the night! My sister who’s the same age as me went back to Cotonou this week. I miss her already. My youngest sister has been a huge source of joy and connection, helping me to do chores correctly and introducing me to her favorite music. There’s been a lot of laundry and dishwashing by hand, but there’s been just as much dancing.

Thursday was site announcement! I didn’t fully realize before everything was happening how much Peace Corps Benin had planned to make this day special. They brought in musicians to help us learn and enjoy traditional music and dances. At first, many of us stood self-consciously to the side, but when I (and some other friends) decided to jump in, it shook out every negative feeling I had in my body. My maman came for the site announcement and helped pull me into the circle. When we danced together, we were connected.

After dancing, it was time for the announcement. I will be serving in an urban area in the Collines department! I am quite happy with my placement. I’ll be working at a (proportionally, compared to average school sizes) large school with 66 other teachers to learn from. I’ll have access to electricity and running water. I live close to the school. I will be able to buy a wide variety of goods and services about equivalent to what I have access to here in the department of Mono. Things feel real now. I’m not training abstractly anymore, I’m training to best be able to serve the individuals in my new home.

What’s more, my host family has connections to my site! They are originally from that area, so they are knowledgeable of celebrations and community there. I will probably get to see them during my service. I couldn’t have asked for more out of my site placement.

The next day was my host father’s birthday. I was expecting a small celebration with a cake, about the same scale as the celebration for my younger sister’s birthday earlier this week, but when I came home, caterers were carrying rented chairs and tables, as well as massive proportions of food. The couches that usually go in the living room were outside. The next thing I knew, we had twenty people over. It was a whirlwind of getting to know people, eating, and dancing. The party raged until 1:00 am (although I excused myself at 11:00 pm, popping two melatonins and equipping my noise canceling headphones… I had class the next day at 8:00 am. I had also accepted that I just would not be able to do my French homework that night). It was a real honor to celebrate my host father, a man who has been incredibly generous and compassionate to me. He helps lead his family (along with my maman) with grace and consideration for others.

After class from 8:00-10:00 am on Saturday, I slept the entire day. I aimed for a bit of reading, but napping won out every time. After a day of exclusively sleeping and eating, I am feeling refreshed. I can’t believe I’m going to do another week of this pre-service training madness. Then again, I’ve done worse. I’m up for the challenge. I can’t wait to see where it leads.

Finding my place here is taking a lot out of me. I make a lot of mistakes. I hate making mistakes. If I had it my way, I would make no mistakes and, actually, I would be perfect. Alas, this isn’t possible. What’s more, even if it were possible, the idea of perfection is a monolithic perspective that only allows for one truth, when now, I am trying to learn and coordinate multiple truths together. It’s a time of massive possibility and connection that’s going to make me more into the person I want to be. There’s no shortcut or easy way to do this. What a privilege that I’m here in this space to make mistakes!

Some small successes and connections to round off my post:

I successfully explained where I lived and bartered the price I wanted to pay with a new Zem driver.
I practiced setting boundaries in my new context.
I got paid on Tuesday.
My friend helped me greatly improve my food-ordering abilities! It turns out you need to specify how much you want and how much you are willing to pay for each item.
Another friend helped me figure out where to buy avocado sandwiches near the center.
My maman took me to the tailor and helped me to commission another Beninese outfit.
I found out where I’ll be living and serving for the next two years.
I connected further with my fellow trainees, articulating my frustrations and receiving support and advice. I am so grateful to have these people in my life to help me practice self-advocacy and to stick up for me when I don’t have the strength to do it myself.
I made time and space every day to acknowledge the new, beautiful space I live in.
I used the weekend to recharge my depleted social battery.
My brother and sister helped me wash my mountain of laundry and I can see all of it drying outside of my window right now. It took a lot of effort, and my siblings kept correcting me when I wasn’t washing adequately. I’m grateful that they’re teaching me how to do it right.