The Pre-Service Training Marathon

I wake up naturally at 5:45 A.M. now. I never thought I’d be able to say that. My dad always hoped I’d be able to say that back in high school, but it just didn’t click until now. It doesn’t feel hard anymore. If I want to stretch, listen to poetry, shower, eat breakfast, catch a zem driver, and feel prepared for the day (with an additional half an hour budgeted for wasting time on Instagram), this is the time it takes. 

I go to bed earlier to account for my early-starting extremely full days, and I think I’m learning to bear these days with more grace. People get cross with one another, mistakes happen, and people get sick in the middle of class (it was me. I got away before anyone saw, but they did hear. It’s ok, it happens), but nonetheless, we press on and try to support one another with integrity and positivity, two traits that sometimes put each other on odds ends. One wouldn’t think those two ideas would be contradictory, but how does one balance recognizing the amazing opportunity we find at our feet and the tremendous challenges that come along simultaneously?

It requires unprecedented patience, persistence, perspective, and reflection. What this means for me is that I need to keep creating and writing, grappling with my new circumstances with my voice. I am going to continue to take in my new environment humbly, but to truly become a participant in Benin, I need to remember to bring my way into this space as well. Being in Benin will always be a fusion of cultures for me. I am aiming for integration, but I will nonetheless remain American.

This week, I’ve done better about enjoying the flaws and mistakes. I’ve put tremendous effort into my language class. My head spins with new vocabulary and structure. I’m earning my sea legs, though. I might be dizzy, but I am straightening out more and more quickly than I could have imagined. I have a Language Proficiency Interview next week. I doubt that I’ll test out of French classes, but I am going to try like I expect to.

I’ve realized I can make jokes in French. I can express distaste. I can insult someone. It’s a language just as powerful as English. It’s not just a hobby or a class, it’s a different way of seeing the world. 

I’m doing better about being present with my friends. Speaking in French in the community and with my family. Putting in hard work and not shrinking from the sweat that slips down my face, rather, starting to enjoy the knowledge that I’m becoming better from it. There are many weeks to go with pre-service training, but I’ve newly resolved to take this step by step, with the knowledge that missteps are as common and continuous as they are par for the course.

I started my day with poetry, can you tell?

In more prosaic matters, our program staff have started modeling English teaching with students for us. In the afternoons, we develop mini-lessons and practice with one another. It’s good to practice again, and I’m happy to be exercising my teaching skills in any capacity, but I’m really looking forward to teaching authentic material to real students again shortly.

I’ve grown to love the sunsets that streak across the sky, taking morning (powdered) milk on the porch before it’s time to leave the house. There’s a thrill when I ride on a zemidjan and the wind whips a hair across my face. Zems also occasionally make my stomach flip when I don’t get situated quite correctly or my driver starts speeding down the road like he’s got a race to win. Now I know to not let my driver move before I am absolutely rooted into place.

Yesterday, I got to visit Benin’s capital city Cotonou, where we went to the main Peace Corps office and met with a panel of Returned Peace Corps Volunteers who offered us motivation, support, and career ideas. After that, my friend Sami and I booked it through the rain to our bus. We went through a puddle the size of a lake to get there. My sandals are still damp. After the rain abated a bit, we caught a zem to take us to Super U where I finally bought a Yoga mat! Incredible quality of life update. We also bought cheese, which if you know me, you know is a huge win. Even now I have some cheese left over in my family’s fridge.

Today my host family and I had a great conversation about the fact that I said I loved chicken when I moved in but I wasn't eating all of the chicken they put on my plate. I explained that I do love chicken, but all the chicken here is on the bone and I have trouble pulling all of the meat off the bones, or at least, to the extent appropriate in Beninese culture. When they realized my problem, they gave me strategies for getting more meat off the bones. My struggle with bones has made me consider my relative inexperience with boney meat. It's an option in America, but it's just as easy to opt out. This whole time, I've been eating frozen, boneless meat. It's different to live here. The meat on my plate was living hours before. I think it's good for me to remember that my food was an animal with bones. It wasn't always a slab destined for my freezer.

I’d love to hear from friends and family! Send me a message via Instagram, FB messenger, email, or the message box on my website.

I’m settling into a rhythm now. I learn hard lessons often, but I know I'm stronger for it.

With love,

Lena

The content of this blog post is mine alone and does not reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Benin Government.