Upon my return from Bohicon on Saturday night, I called Ludvert to make sure we were still going dancing. "Do you want to go just the 2 of us, or do you want me to invite my friends." OH MY GOD INVITE YOUR FRIENDS. (I had to have a little chat with him that night about my not being interested in him, because it was getting to be too much and he really wasn't taking a hint. I made it abundantly clear, but he still kept trying - but that was much later in the night.)
He came to get me around 11pm and we went to Diana's restaurant where a few of his friends were drinking some "eau de palme" which I could compare to Canadian Eau de Vie -- really strong booze that could probably double for rubbing alcohol. They soak herbs in it for flavour. Tasted awful but certainly woke me up.
After Diana closed up her shop we went to her boyfriend's house so she could change and then we all piled into his car and drove off to a club where there was some live music.
The music was so awesome! I wished Gordon was there, cuz he really woulda gotten a kick out of it. It was Beninese music, except it was salsa! The Motherland truly is the motherland of everything. I keep forgetting that slaves were brought throughout South and North America, and Spain, Portugal... and they brought their music with them. One of Lud's friends Mathieu said that the Spanish and Portuguese made the salsa dance and music better... different perhaps? Not necessarily better!
So it was me, Diana, and 6 guys. The boys were all dancing like crazy, loving every minute of it. They certainly aren't as prudish as the boys back home, girating and moving their hips, and dancing with each other. I've never seen guys dance like that and I've seen a lot of guys (gay, straight, black, white) dance.
We left that bar around 2am and went to another place where there was supposed to be "techno". We didn't end up going inside, but instead left for another club near the airport.
There were a lot of white people there. The bar is owned by a Lebanese dude -- apparently there are a lot of Lebanese people in Benin. The music was pretty crappy (very top 40 house music with some traditional tunes thrown in for good measure -- oh! there was a remix of Aline! "Et j'ai crier, crier! ALINE! pour qu'elle revienne..."), but the company was fun.
I found the DJ booth and was happy to see that they have CDJs. I'll try to go again this weekend, perhaps even alone, to see if I can talk to a manager or the owner. I don't necessarily want to spin when they're open, I just want to be able to use their CDJs to get some practice in and hear some good beats every once in a while. Then again, who knows. Maybe upon hearing that I'm a promoter from Toronto, they might be interested in some business. Guess it depends on whether or not they know anything about the scene.
This is where the night went sideways, and annoyingly so, but awesome in another way. We all piled back into José's car (Diana's boyfriend) and they were all speaking Fon and I was just staring out the window so I missed the actual conversation. I *think* José offered to drive me straight home, since the club is just on the other side of the airport and pretty close to my house, but instead Lud insisted that they go get his motorbike at José's on the other side of town, have his friend Zee drive the motorbike back to Lud's house (they live next door to each other) which is just outside of the city and then Lud would drive me home on his motorbike.
Of course no one told me what the f#*k was going on and only said that we had to make "a stop". We sat waiting at José's when Lud explained that they could've driven me home but didn't and that we had to go somewhere else before I went home. Already, not impressed.
When we got to Lud's house I had to get angry because I didn't understand what was happening and suddenly José was driving off, leaving me in some far off place with a boy I didn't want to have to spend any more time with.
I had to be stern and express my anger, "mais QU'EST-CE QUI SE PASSE? On est OÙ?" Which is when I realized that Lud had gone to great lengths to be able to show me his house and then drive me back to my house when I could already have been in bed. I scolded him and his friend - "you have to WARN a girl before you take her to some strange place outside of town." Neither of them had thought of it, and Zee agreed with me. Lud was probably upset that I wasn't happy to be at his house.
By now it was 5:30am and I was mad. I was tired and confused and felt like I was being taken advantage of because I didn't speak their language.
Not only that, but he was about to abandon me to sit in his waiting room/living room while he went on his motorbike to drop off his friend Zee next door (next door is around the block and down the street... we were kind of in the country or a suburb).
So he let me inside the house and introduced me to his brother, although you never really know if "brother" means "brother" here, or if it means cousin or best friend.
I felt really out of place, but his brother was really good looking in a 17 year-old kind of way, and he didn't sit with me and force me to have a conversation with him, so that was good.
I asked for a glass of water, and then realized they probably just gave me tap water, so I just had a couple sips and put the glass down - I didn't want to get sick.
Lud came back and said he had to change because he had to go to the sports arena to play some soccer at 7am. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed, and again he was being annoyingly lovey towards me, despite our "conversation" where I blatantly told him I was not at all interested in anything.
He invited me into his room to chat with him while he got ready, and I politely declined, saying it was too hot to be indoors and that I would wait in the courtyard to get some air.
I wish words could adequately describe the beauty and awesomeness of the scene I witnessed when I walked into the courtyard... let me try to paint the picture:
It's 5:45am and still really dark outside. The whole first floor is one big open concrete room with concrete floors, part of it covered like a garage, with the rest of the house on top of it, and the rest of the yard has no roof but is completely fenced in with tall grey concrete walls. In the middle of the open-air section is a well made of stones and concrete and beside the well is a large metal basin that they carry water in - I've seen many women put those basins on their heads to walk from the well to their houses.
In the garage there are a couple large wooden tables and 10-15 wooden chairs, and it reminds me a lot of my grandpa's mechanic garage. There are a few blackboards with writing on the walls, but I didn't have the time and felt too out-of-place to do any inspecting of what they were. There are short but long wooden shelving units along the walls with a lot of jars in them. The whole place is lite with bright orangey fluorescent lights, so I can't see the stars from the courtyard.
I went to leave Lud's room when I saw that someone was in the courtyard, standing at the well and it wasn't his 17 year-old brother. Not wanting to meet ANOTHER one of his family members, especially not at 6am when I haven't slept, I stood back. It was so quiet, all I could hear was the sound of the pulley at the well and when I looked, I saw a youngish fit shirtless black man in an ankle-length green sarong with one leg braced against the well, pulling hard on the rope to get the water up, using every single muscle in his back, shoulders and arms. Then, from the yard next door, a rooster crowed. And again. And again.
Good morning Maria, you're in Africa.
Holy shit, I'm in Africa.
I immediately ran back into the waiting room so I could write down a note. I didn't want to forget the moment, it was so surreal and beautiful.
Finally Lud came out of his room proclaiming that he couldn't find the tuque he wears to drive his motorcycle. Did I steal it? Or put it somewhere? Oh Maria, what did you do with it? Haha.
I could have punched him, and I'm sure I didn't look impressed. Stop with the excuses. "Just take me home, I'm exhausted." And then on the motorbike... Are you holding on tight? Are you sure? -- I am NOT holding on to you. I'm fine!
The road from his house back to the highway was a dirt road and again made me freak - I'm in Africa. Quite a few people were making their way to church - it was 6am, time to pray. The scenery near his house was beautiful, and I thanked life for having an upside to this annoying situation.
I was pretty nervous at him driving down this sandy road on a motorcycle, but he said, "N'ait pas peur, je suis désert" (don't be afraid, I am desert). The boy does have a way with words.
It's pretty fun to drive around on a motorcycle - fun to be a passenger since I can look around in awe at the scenery. If/when I decide to get my own bike I'll have to keep my eyes on the road and it probably will feel more terrifying than fun (at first)!
I was still afraid though. Obviously he was still trying to convince me of how cool he was and I was sure he would try to impress me with his driving skills.
When he proclaimed that he could make the motorcycle fly, I put my foot down and asked him to cool it. He could show me how fast his motorcycle can go another day, when I've had some sleep (ie: NEVER). Still, a little while later I had to ask him to slow down, which seemed to frustrate him since he thought I was perfectly safe.
When we got to my street he said it was my turn to drive, which would have been super fun at any other time and with any other person. But I realized that finally I'd be in the driver's seat, literally, and was excited to get my ass home. Of course now it meant he got to sit behind me and "help me drive" which made the experience even more uncomfortable. He wasn't a very good teacher and I was a very impatient student, but luckily we were only a minute away from my house.
I gave it too much gas and had trouble gearing up (like I said, he wasn't a very good teacher - "press down on that pedal" isn't an instruction I can follow. WHICH pedal? That pedal. WHICH??! grrr!!!!) but we made it without my stalling it. Except then I didn't know where the break was and tried to stop it like a bike by putting my feet on the ground - which doesn't really work for a motorcycle!! Handbreak Maria! Handbreak!
Well, the next day we went out again because he was going to bring me to a store where I could buy a USB internet key for my laptop and then we were going to go to the beach, except the store was closed, "oh I guess they close at noon on Sundays," he said knowingly. Again, I was NOT impressed - and then he parked his bike infront of his cousin's place without telling me where we were going or who I was about to meet, which pissed me off.
This guy wasn't winning any brownie points with me.
Finally some of his friends showed up and we all headed for the beach. He was getting more and more possessive as he could see how disinterested and angry I was getting with him, at which point I really had to have another conversation with him and then he kept getting progressively more upset with me, which has led me to understand that we can't be friends.
I also had the same conversation with Roger, who also persisted and asked if he could come home with me!!! WTF!! no!
Maybe I'll get a new SIM card and change my phone number. Isn't that horrible? I'm so mean!! (But it really is the perfect/easiest solution to my boy troubles!)
Everyone comes into your life for a reason. Lud has taught me that even though someone can give you everything you want, doesn't mean you have to take them up on it.
You can't always take the first offer that comes your way, no matter how good it is. Sometimes the strings attached will choke you!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
So Much to Say
I have so much to write about I don't know where to begin. Too much even. I hope things start to become "normal" soon... it's all so inspiring/crazy and I want to tell you everything!
First I guess I'll write about what's most on my mind: the fact that I'm really going to have to find new friends. At first it was cute that both Roger and Ludvert were so smitten, but now it's very annoying and tiresome and puts me ill-at-ease. Despite trying to be nice and even not-so-nice about the fact that I am NOT the love of their lives and indeed not even attracted to them, they persist and insist and it's getting to be too much. I guess they think I need convincing? What I need is to get away from them!
It's a real shame though, Lud's cousin invited me to attend a voodoo funeral (his wife's 95 year-old father died... 95 year old FATHER? She can't be more than 30...) and Cérémonie des revenants (a ceremony where the dead come back to life). Apparently the father was really high up in the voodoo priest world, so it will be quite the party, but I can't imagine having to spend an entire weekend with Lud and his family bugging me to make beninese babies with him. There's nothing worse than a guy you're not attracted to trying to be possessive of you around his friends and family. Gross!!
So I guess I'm gonna have to go back to the friend drawing-board. I'm trying to think of opportunities where I could meet some cool and fun people. In Toronto I met a lot of friends clubbing, so perhaps there would be the same opportunity here. I also hope to catch some concerts or art shows. I'll have to ask if there's any college newspapers to find some student art shows or something. Maybe some theatre. Again, going places when there are no street names is hard. I have to depend on people to get around and it's pretty frustrating. I need to buy a map of Cotonou!
I have no choice but to be patient and hope things will just work themselves out. I've only been here 2 weeks and it feels like I've been here forever.
So, otherwise, my weekend was jam packed with crazy experiences. I'M IN AFRICA!!! and sometimes it's unbelievably surreal.
Friday, I went with my colleague Jean and his best friend Max to their hometown of Bohicon and Abomey. They said they wanted to take me to do a little tourism. What they didn't tell me was that we were in fact going to visit a bunch of their friends and family and that they were going to their hometown to attend a party at a funeral -- this omission almost made me cry when we arrived at the party and everyone was all dressed up. I was wearing a tank top and a pair of jeans!! I was SO MAD. I couldn't believe they didn't tell me we'd be going to an event like this. I scolded my colleague for not telling me and tried to hold back my tears. Everything is intense here and my eyes well up at the smallest thing.
They kept assuring me that what I was wearing was fine. Apparently white people can get away with wearing whatever they want, but I felt so rude and disrespectful - I wanted to hide in the car. I could just imagine my grandma looking down on me from above being ashamed of her granddaughter showing up to a funeral dressed inappropriately.
I'm not sure if it's because I'm a girl or if it's because I'm a guest that they don't tell me anything, but it's getting frustrating. The men keep taking me places without saying where we're going, or keep making pit-stops without saying that we're making pit stops. So I think we're going to one place and we end up in another, and suddenly I'm meeting entire families of people with no time to prep my brain for what I'm about to encounter. It's very disconcerting. And when I ask where we're going or what we're doing, they act as if I don't need to know and that it's funny that I'm even asking. Don't I trust them?
It's not a question of trust, dumb ass, it's a question of MAKING ME FEEL COMFORTABLE. I'm in a new country, far from everything I know. I don't have a clue what's going on half the time, and the other half of the time they're speaking Fon and then I really don't have a clue. So I guess I don't have a clue 100% of the time. Bah!
They just go with the flow here, so pit-stops and deviations from the original plan occur often without anyone seeming to mind. It's amazing anything gets done.
So I barely got to do any tourism. A highlite of my trip was my colleague's friend Eric (hilarious dude who kept singing along to the tunes and telling me what they meant; he reminded me of Jayski because of his sense of humour and his belly, but less scrapey! And he didn't hit on me, except jokingly, which was great!) who came out of his hotel room in the morning wearing his boxers and a white tank top, drinking a glass of whiskey (the men here drink ALL the time - drinking and driving is not an issue, it's pretty scary). I told him jokingly/not jokingly to put some pants on, but he didn't. Then later when he asked me why I didn't hang out with them while they were drinking, I said it was because he wasn't wearing any pants. He got all dressed up in traditional clothes for the funeral (not that I knew until we got there that that's why everyone was so dressed up) and he looked very dapper.
For lunch we went to Max's aunt's house. She made pâte with a veggie/fish/fried cheese sauce.
I ate with my fingers! It was delish and his aunt was very nice.
I also met this amazingly nice woman named Elizabeth. She was so kind and hugged me like we had known each other forever. At the funeral party she had a little bundle strapped to her back, the granddaughter of the lady who had died, apparently. She had this great big headdress too. I wanted to ask her how she got it to stand up like that, but I barely saw her at the funeral. Hopefully I'll get another chance to see her. I didn't get her picture.
At the funeral party, everyone was eating and talking and drinking -- just like Italians in a church basement. Except at one point all the women in this one section broke into song. I wasn't sure why and didn't ask, but it was really cool.
I asked to use the bathroom and the girl brought me to a bedroom that had a bathroom off the side. There was no door to the bathroom and the toilet had no seat (the toilets never have seats, if there's a toilet at all), and I just couldn't go. Never mind that a lady walked in when I was trying to go.
The kids are always so fascinated by me. Yovo! Yovo! I had my big round sunglasses on, and this little boy at the funeral party was staring at me, so I smiled at him and pulled my sunglasses down and winked. He freaked out and went to tell his friends, and when he came back I did it again. He was so excited, it was adorable.
Did a wee bit of tourism I suppose. We did stop to see the statue of one of the great kings of Abomey. He refused to sign a treaty with the French saying that it compromised his people's independance. They say he was a huge man and the statue certainly shows that he was massive. I realized that there are very few statues of black people, that I'm aware of.
The roads here are brutal. There are so many potholes! And where the roads are new, there are tons of speed bumps -- way too many. So many in fact that my colleague's muffler fell off in Bohicon. I got to experience a Beninese mechanic shop! The work progressed slowly and everytime we came back to see if he was done, the mechanic needed some money to buy another part. Imagine: show up at the repair shop, and when you come back, the mechanic says, I have to buy this part, but you need to give me the money so I can go buy it.
And of course there are roosters and chickens walking around.
The drive back was long, and we kept stopping, because apparently that's what the Beninese do. There are ladies selling fruit, nuts, anything and everything along the side of the road in certain areas. When we got to Allada we stopped and the ladies rushed our car selling pineapples, bananas, plantains, nuts...
It's really amazing what they manage to carry on their heads. Even the children carry really heavy loads on their heads. I didn't realize our heads were so strong!!
I bought some peanuts and my friends warned me that peanuts give you zits. I wonder if their nuts are much oilier than ours and I guess we'll see. They're really good. Wish they made peanut butter!
They were also selling these little snack-bags of boiled corn and boiled peanuts!! Boiled peanuts are delicious!! Apparently you just boil them in some salt water until they're a little soft and then allow them to cool down... delicious!
When the boys were finished with their shopping we continued to make our way back to Cotonou. We stopped at a bar where one of the children saw me and put his hand out like he was begging for change. Another saw the little red ball I have on my bag and said, "cadeau?" (present?). I'd never seen the children beg before. To be fair, the boy who was begging for change looked like he was immitating something he had seen someone else do, to see if it would work. He didn't look very sure of himself. I didn't give him any change, even if 10 cents would have meant the world to him. I'm not sure what I should do in those circumstances. I'm very torn.
In Cotonou the children are more used to seeing the occasional white person and those who live along the beach will ask for a 100 francs or a gift, "Yovo! 100 Francs?" "Yovo! Cadeau!". But it's certainly not the norm and the children are mostly just excited to see me.
It's really hard to see some of the poorer children. At the bar on the road back from Allada, there was a set of twin boys hanging around, fascinated by me. They must've been 6 or 7 years old. They were adorable and had beautiful smiles, but skinny with big bellies and with the belly button sticking out. The only thing they had on was underwear, dirty from them sitting around.
Everything's covered in red earth and dust. The mother in me wanted to take them home with me and get them some clothes, some shoes, some food and a bath. I took their picture and pray that they will be fine.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, making our way back to Cotonou in the dust. They're rebuilding the highway near Cotonou and the traffic is ridiculous. Some lanes are blocked off, some aren't, and it's basically a free-for-all. The car windshield was so covered in dust we could barely see out of it, and we had no fluid to wash it off!
Apparently they started the construction of the road before making sure they had all their financing in order, so the work has stopped.
I have so much more to talk about... but this is already ridiculously long. More tomorrow.
First I guess I'll write about what's most on my mind: the fact that I'm really going to have to find new friends. At first it was cute that both Roger and Ludvert were so smitten, but now it's very annoying and tiresome and puts me ill-at-ease. Despite trying to be nice and even not-so-nice about the fact that I am NOT the love of their lives and indeed not even attracted to them, they persist and insist and it's getting to be too much. I guess they think I need convincing? What I need is to get away from them!
It's a real shame though, Lud's cousin invited me to attend a voodoo funeral (his wife's 95 year-old father died... 95 year old FATHER? She can't be more than 30...) and Cérémonie des revenants (a ceremony where the dead come back to life). Apparently the father was really high up in the voodoo priest world, so it will be quite the party, but I can't imagine having to spend an entire weekend with Lud and his family bugging me to make beninese babies with him. There's nothing worse than a guy you're not attracted to trying to be possessive of you around his friends and family. Gross!!
So I guess I'm gonna have to go back to the friend drawing-board. I'm trying to think of opportunities where I could meet some cool and fun people. In Toronto I met a lot of friends clubbing, so perhaps there would be the same opportunity here. I also hope to catch some concerts or art shows. I'll have to ask if there's any college newspapers to find some student art shows or something. Maybe some theatre. Again, going places when there are no street names is hard. I have to depend on people to get around and it's pretty frustrating. I need to buy a map of Cotonou!
I have no choice but to be patient and hope things will just work themselves out. I've only been here 2 weeks and it feels like I've been here forever.
So, otherwise, my weekend was jam packed with crazy experiences. I'M IN AFRICA!!! and sometimes it's unbelievably surreal.
Friday, I went with my colleague Jean and his best friend Max to their hometown of Bohicon and Abomey. They said they wanted to take me to do a little tourism. What they didn't tell me was that we were in fact going to visit a bunch of their friends and family and that they were going to their hometown to attend a party at a funeral -- this omission almost made me cry when we arrived at the party and everyone was all dressed up. I was wearing a tank top and a pair of jeans!! I was SO MAD. I couldn't believe they didn't tell me we'd be going to an event like this. I scolded my colleague for not telling me and tried to hold back my tears. Everything is intense here and my eyes well up at the smallest thing.
They kept assuring me that what I was wearing was fine. Apparently white people can get away with wearing whatever they want, but I felt so rude and disrespectful - I wanted to hide in the car. I could just imagine my grandma looking down on me from above being ashamed of her granddaughter showing up to a funeral dressed inappropriately.
I'm not sure if it's because I'm a girl or if it's because I'm a guest that they don't tell me anything, but it's getting frustrating. The men keep taking me places without saying where we're going, or keep making pit-stops without saying that we're making pit stops. So I think we're going to one place and we end up in another, and suddenly I'm meeting entire families of people with no time to prep my brain for what I'm about to encounter. It's very disconcerting. And when I ask where we're going or what we're doing, they act as if I don't need to know and that it's funny that I'm even asking. Don't I trust them?
It's not a question of trust, dumb ass, it's a question of MAKING ME FEEL COMFORTABLE. I'm in a new country, far from everything I know. I don't have a clue what's going on half the time, and the other half of the time they're speaking Fon and then I really don't have a clue. So I guess I don't have a clue 100% of the time. Bah!
They just go with the flow here, so pit-stops and deviations from the original plan occur often without anyone seeming to mind. It's amazing anything gets done.
So I barely got to do any tourism. A highlite of my trip was my colleague's friend Eric (hilarious dude who kept singing along to the tunes and telling me what they meant; he reminded me of Jayski because of his sense of humour and his belly, but less scrapey! And he didn't hit on me, except jokingly, which was great!) who came out of his hotel room in the morning wearing his boxers and a white tank top, drinking a glass of whiskey (the men here drink ALL the time - drinking and driving is not an issue, it's pretty scary). I told him jokingly/not jokingly to put some pants on, but he didn't. Then later when he asked me why I didn't hang out with them while they were drinking, I said it was because he wasn't wearing any pants. He got all dressed up in traditional clothes for the funeral (not that I knew until we got there that that's why everyone was so dressed up) and he looked very dapper.
For lunch we went to Max's aunt's house. She made pâte with a veggie/fish/fried cheese sauce.
I ate with my fingers! It was delish and his aunt was very nice.
I also met this amazingly nice woman named Elizabeth. She was so kind and hugged me like we had known each other forever. At the funeral party she had a little bundle strapped to her back, the granddaughter of the lady who had died, apparently. She had this great big headdress too. I wanted to ask her how she got it to stand up like that, but I barely saw her at the funeral. Hopefully I'll get another chance to see her. I didn't get her picture.
At the funeral party, everyone was eating and talking and drinking -- just like Italians in a church basement. Except at one point all the women in this one section broke into song. I wasn't sure why and didn't ask, but it was really cool.
I asked to use the bathroom and the girl brought me to a bedroom that had a bathroom off the side. There was no door to the bathroom and the toilet had no seat (the toilets never have seats, if there's a toilet at all), and I just couldn't go. Never mind that a lady walked in when I was trying to go.
The kids are always so fascinated by me. Yovo! Yovo! I had my big round sunglasses on, and this little boy at the funeral party was staring at me, so I smiled at him and pulled my sunglasses down and winked. He freaked out and went to tell his friends, and when he came back I did it again. He was so excited, it was adorable.
Did a wee bit of tourism I suppose. We did stop to see the statue of one of the great kings of Abomey. He refused to sign a treaty with the French saying that it compromised his people's independance. They say he was a huge man and the statue certainly shows that he was massive. I realized that there are very few statues of black people, that I'm aware of.
The roads here are brutal. There are so many potholes! And where the roads are new, there are tons of speed bumps -- way too many. So many in fact that my colleague's muffler fell off in Bohicon. I got to experience a Beninese mechanic shop! The work progressed slowly and everytime we came back to see if he was done, the mechanic needed some money to buy another part. Imagine: show up at the repair shop, and when you come back, the mechanic says, I have to buy this part, but you need to give me the money so I can go buy it.
And of course there are roosters and chickens walking around.
The drive back was long, and we kept stopping, because apparently that's what the Beninese do. There are ladies selling fruit, nuts, anything and everything along the side of the road in certain areas. When we got to Allada we stopped and the ladies rushed our car selling pineapples, bananas, plantains, nuts...
It's really amazing what they manage to carry on their heads. Even the children carry really heavy loads on their heads. I didn't realize our heads were so strong!!
I bought some peanuts and my friends warned me that peanuts give you zits. I wonder if their nuts are much oilier than ours and I guess we'll see. They're really good. Wish they made peanut butter!
They were also selling these little snack-bags of boiled corn and boiled peanuts!! Boiled peanuts are delicious!! Apparently you just boil them in some salt water until they're a little soft and then allow them to cool down... delicious!
When the boys were finished with their shopping we continued to make our way back to Cotonou. We stopped at a bar where one of the children saw me and put his hand out like he was begging for change. Another saw the little red ball I have on my bag and said, "cadeau?" (present?). I'd never seen the children beg before. To be fair, the boy who was begging for change looked like he was immitating something he had seen someone else do, to see if it would work. He didn't look very sure of himself. I didn't give him any change, even if 10 cents would have meant the world to him. I'm not sure what I should do in those circumstances. I'm very torn.
In Cotonou the children are more used to seeing the occasional white person and those who live along the beach will ask for a 100 francs or a gift, "Yovo! 100 Francs?" "Yovo! Cadeau!". But it's certainly not the norm and the children are mostly just excited to see me.
It's really hard to see some of the poorer children. At the bar on the road back from Allada, there was a set of twin boys hanging around, fascinated by me. They must've been 6 or 7 years old. They were adorable and had beautiful smiles, but skinny with big bellies and with the belly button sticking out. The only thing they had on was underwear, dirty from them sitting around.
Everything's covered in red earth and dust. The mother in me wanted to take them home with me and get them some clothes, some shoes, some food and a bath. I took their picture and pray that they will be fine.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, making our way back to Cotonou in the dust. They're rebuilding the highway near Cotonou and the traffic is ridiculous. Some lanes are blocked off, some aren't, and it's basically a free-for-all. The car windshield was so covered in dust we could barely see out of it, and we had no fluid to wash it off!
Apparently they started the construction of the road before making sure they had all their financing in order, so the work has stopped.
I have so much more to talk about... but this is already ridiculously long. More tomorrow.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Superstition ain't the way...
Maman, ma boss me dit que sa mère a eu 12 enfants!! Mais que seulement 4 ont survécu. Voilà la réalité africaine. Dans le fond, on voit les mêmes phénomènes. Ici, on disait aux mères, "N'entends-tu pas les enfants qui crient dans ton ventre pour sortir? Il faut continuer de les avoirs!!" Ensuite, les générations subséquentes en ont 4 ou 5, ma génération en ont 2 ou 3...
Superstition plays a big part of life here. At least for the older folk. Apparently, my boss' daughter was born bum first, but they never told my boss' mother who would've thought the baby was a witch and probably would've KILLED it. (her daughter is 13 now.)(Georges should come do his good works here instead!!!)
She also told me of a neighbour who has an 18 year old girl. When her teeth started to come in as a baby, she had just one on the top gum. Also a sign that the child is a witch. The child's father, an educated investment banker, would have killed the child had he seen it, so for weeks, when he came home for lunch my boss would take the child and pretend that she was baby-sitting it, and when he came home at night, she would do the same... until the baby had another tooth come in on the bottom. Can you imagine?
I asked, do they just do this for girls? Nope, boys too. No one's immune when it comes to curses and witchcraft. And this was 15 years ago.
Went to Porto Novo today to talk to government officials. More with less, more with less... The electricity went out 5-6 times during my visit, even in the Minister's office. Someone needs to start giving these people solar panels, it hasn't rained since I got here and won't til March.
They're very "Mexican" here... everything is "Yes, yes, of course, tomorrow I'll get that to you." Mañana, mañana...
Going out of town overnight to do some sight seeing. Forget the name of the place, but I'm excited to go! Will take pictures and report back. Poor Ludvert will be crushed. We were supposed to hang out tomorrow during the day and do some shopping. He sent me 4 txts today. :rolleyes: YOUTH!!
Superstition plays a big part of life here. At least for the older folk. Apparently, my boss' daughter was born bum first, but they never told my boss' mother who would've thought the baby was a witch and probably would've KILLED it. (her daughter is 13 now.)(Georges should come do his good works here instead!!!)
She also told me of a neighbour who has an 18 year old girl. When her teeth started to come in as a baby, she had just one on the top gum. Also a sign that the child is a witch. The child's father, an educated investment banker, would have killed the child had he seen it, so for weeks, when he came home for lunch my boss would take the child and pretend that she was baby-sitting it, and when he came home at night, she would do the same... until the baby had another tooth come in on the bottom. Can you imagine?
I asked, do they just do this for girls? Nope, boys too. No one's immune when it comes to curses and witchcraft. And this was 15 years ago.
Went to Porto Novo today to talk to government officials. More with less, more with less... The electricity went out 5-6 times during my visit, even in the Minister's office. Someone needs to start giving these people solar panels, it hasn't rained since I got here and won't til March.
They're very "Mexican" here... everything is "Yes, yes, of course, tomorrow I'll get that to you." Mañana, mañana...
Going out of town overnight to do some sight seeing. Forget the name of the place, but I'm excited to go! Will take pictures and report back. Poor Ludvert will be crushed. We were supposed to hang out tomorrow during the day and do some shopping. He sent me 4 txts today. :rolleyes: YOUTH!!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Fun Facts: Student to Teacher ratio... and Student Success
Taken from the 10-year education action plan of the Ministry of Primary and Kindergarten Education (Plan Décennal du Développement du Secteur de l'Éducation du Bénin, Ministère de l'Éducation Maternel et Primaire, octobre 2006)
On average, in 2005, in every region of the country, for every teacher, there was 50 students. The AVERAGE. A teacher might have 100 students, might have 20. That teacher may or may not be qualified. That teacher may or may not have a teacher's aid to support them. That teacher may or may not show up for class on any given day. Huh. (And there are many, many, MANY children who aren't even in school.)
In Ontario, we have policies to decrease class sizes (from 35 or 30 to less than 25 or 20 for the younger kids) so that each student can receive individual attention. In Benin, they have to do more with less, and are therefore trying to adapt their pedagogy to maximize the teacher with as many students as possible.
At first this shocked me: smaller classes are better! Individualized attention!! Recruit more teachers! Pay them fairly! Get 'er done! Invest! Invest!!
Which is all fine and good, except one must be realistic (thanks to Jenny for pointing this out to me!) ... in Benin, one must do more with less.
Everywhere, we should be trying to do more with less -- being inventive is what got our Canadian society to the comfort level we now know. Going from small rural schools to computerized distance schools where teachers and learning can be shared. It's to the point now, in Northern Ontario, some schools share a principal, and the principal will discipline students via videoconferencing. Use what you got to do what you can.
In Benin, the issues are far more basic. In the Plan Décennal, they state some of the conditions for student success that we all know:
- students succeed better when each student has his or her own book
- students succeed better when the teacher receives training on a regular basis
and logically, we know that, "La qualité des infrastructures, des équipements, la disponibilité des supports didactiques ont également un effet net sur le taux de réussite" (the quality of infrastructure, of the equipment, the availability of didactic support will also have a net effect on the success rate).
Except it also states:
- students succeed better when there is electricity present in the school
- students succeed better when the classes are constructed with concrete walls (as opposed to being open-air)
I had to give my head a shake, didn't you?
Another major aspect that seems to influence student success is the proximity of the school to the school board. I wonder if we can draw the same conclusion in Ontario. Makes sense! The closer you are to the school board, the easier it is to get face time with pedagogical counselors, board directors, and the clearer the messages are.
Benin is developing policies to improve education in their country, but as in Ontario, you can develop as many policies as you want, but if the inspectors and pedagogical counselors are not trained in monitoring, evaluating, and supporting the teachers in the implementation of policies, or if no one monitors the implementation at all (or only monitors it half-assed), then you can never know if your policy is 1) being properly implemented in every school, or 2) successful until it either fails miserably or you notice great gains in student standardized-test results (and hope that it's remarkable enough that you can credit the appropriate policy change).
More fun facts from the Plan Décennal:
- more than half of all children who go to school leave before grade 6 (talk about a drop-out rate!!)
- half the teachers are not qualified (and they still need many more)
- great progress has been recorded in girls' education (yay!)
Alright - I have to get to bed. I'll end this entry on that high note. More girls in school! More girls in school!!!
En 2005, le ratio élèves/maître est passé à 50.
On average, in 2005, in every region of the country, for every teacher, there was 50 students. The AVERAGE. A teacher might have 100 students, might have 20. That teacher may or may not be qualified. That teacher may or may not have a teacher's aid to support them. That teacher may or may not show up for class on any given day. Huh. (And there are many, many, MANY children who aren't even in school.)
In Ontario, we have policies to decrease class sizes (from 35 or 30 to less than 25 or 20 for the younger kids) so that each student can receive individual attention. In Benin, they have to do more with less, and are therefore trying to adapt their pedagogy to maximize the teacher with as many students as possible.
Le problème des écoles en sous effectif d’élèves (classes de moins de 40 élèves/classe) (29%) est plus prégnant que celui des écoles réellement surchargées (au-delà de 70 élèves/classe) (10%) soulignant le caractère perfectible des modes d’organisation scolaire et la sous-utilisation du jumelage des classes, faute de pédagogie adaptée.
The problem of schools with classes with under 40 students (29%) is more important than the problem of classes with over 70 students (10%), underlining the notion that there is room for perfecting the modes of organization in schools and the under-utilization of combined classes (grades 4-5-6 for example), since there is no adapted pedagogy. (forgive my awful translation here.)
At first this shocked me: smaller classes are better! Individualized attention!! Recruit more teachers! Pay them fairly! Get 'er done! Invest! Invest!!
Which is all fine and good, except one must be realistic (thanks to Jenny for pointing this out to me!) ... in Benin, one must do more with less.
Everywhere, we should be trying to do more with less -- being inventive is what got our Canadian society to the comfort level we now know. Going from small rural schools to computerized distance schools where teachers and learning can be shared. It's to the point now, in Northern Ontario, some schools share a principal, and the principal will discipline students via videoconferencing. Use what you got to do what you can.
In Benin, the issues are far more basic. In the Plan Décennal, they state some of the conditions for student success that we all know:
- students succeed better when each student has his or her own book
- students succeed better when the teacher receives training on a regular basis
and logically, we know that, "La qualité des infrastructures, des équipements, la disponibilité des supports didactiques ont également un effet net sur le taux de réussite" (the quality of infrastructure, of the equipment, the availability of didactic support will also have a net effect on the success rate).
Except it also states:
- students succeed better when there is electricity present in the school
- students succeed better when the classes are constructed with concrete walls (as opposed to being open-air)
I had to give my head a shake, didn't you?
Another major aspect that seems to influence student success is the proximity of the school to the school board. I wonder if we can draw the same conclusion in Ontario. Makes sense! The closer you are to the school board, the easier it is to get face time with pedagogical counselors, board directors, and the clearer the messages are.
Benin is developing policies to improve education in their country, but as in Ontario, you can develop as many policies as you want, but if the inspectors and pedagogical counselors are not trained in monitoring, evaluating, and supporting the teachers in the implementation of policies, or if no one monitors the implementation at all (or only monitors it half-assed), then you can never know if your policy is 1) being properly implemented in every school, or 2) successful until it either fails miserably or you notice great gains in student standardized-test results (and hope that it's remarkable enough that you can credit the appropriate policy change).
More fun facts from the Plan Décennal:
- more than half of all children who go to school leave before grade 6 (talk about a drop-out rate!!)
- half the teachers are not qualified (and they still need many more)
- great progress has been recorded in girls' education (yay!)
Alright - I have to get to bed. I'll end this entry on that high note. More girls in school! More girls in school!!!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
You can stand under my umber-ella
NOTE TO ALL READERS: there's a comment section in the blog for a reason -- interaction. I'm all alone over here folks! Leave anonymous comments if you want, if something shocked you about what I wrote, or if you think I talk too much (not much to do in the evenings here... no CSI to keep me busy...) :P ... ask me questions if you're curious about anything and I'll try to answer. My dad is reading, so be nice. ;)
So, I'm realizing that the kids here don't seem to play with toys at all. Even those families with a little money, the kids don't seem to play with much. I guess that culturally, they just don't play? I don't want to say that they're not raising their kids properly, since I've met tons of awesome adults who grew up here... more investigation is necessary.
I think back to Christmas with my niece Elbie and nephew Buddy, or the time I spent with little Ollie B and all the toys kids in North America have, no matter how poor the parents are. A ridiculous amount of toys, so many that they'll never play with them all. I remember the basement full of toys my cousins used to have and wonder where those toys went.
So the babies just sit there without even a rattle or a set of keys to distract them. Dzzt. BOORING! And I have no idea what the older kids do for fun. I know that some of them work, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. The girls also help out their mothers at quite a young age, getting water from the well, taking care of their siblings, cleaning, etc.
The child-work thing is weird. Having a 10 year-old come up to your car window selling gum, pens, and other random items at 11pm on a Monday... he/she'll be there til late at night and go to school the next morning. I know university students who complain when they have to work that kind of schedule.
No one sleeps here. There are a lot of patios and bars to go to if you're not working late. "Cotonou by night," the boys I work with joke. I guess when it's 30°C at night, no one feels much like sleeping indoors. I have air-con, but it's a luxury they installed for me because I'm white and I'm a wuss. But seeing kids running around after each other in the streets at 10pm and having no one around seem concerned - it's just weird. "Mom I'm going to Billy's!"
Then again, everyone's the same. I believe it more and more. Just because we don't see the kids running around outside, doesn't mean there aren't tons of kids running around at crazy hours in the night, not getting enough sleep, in Canada. And they have warm/cool homes, lots of food to eat, and don't have to work to pay the bills (at least I hope they don't).
Today we visited my colleague who lost his wife. Before we visited with the widower, my colleagues warned me not to cry infront of him (I can't help it, someone talks about someone they love dying and my mind automatically goes to Brenda and I can't help but realize how much pain that person must be in!!).
I asked Brenda to help me not to cry, and I didn't!! I was proud of myself, but it helped that he wasn't crying. There was a very dark cloud over his head though. I even smiled a lot, which I hope was a comfort - my colleagues may have warned me not to cry, but they had really long faces and heavy shoulders, and that's no help.
He's staying at his brother's because he can't sleep in his bed, and his kids are staying with a friend of the family's, a lady from his church. The kids must be wondering what the eff is going on.
They haven't told the kids yet, they're all under the age of 7... we went to visit the kids afterwards. Such cute kids. The oldest girl had these awesome spikey tresses with different coloured elastics. I told her I liked her hair and she smiled, shyly.
They must be wondering why random people are coming to see them, why they're not in school, where their mother is, why their father is only coming to visit sporadically. I know that they know - they're kids, they're not stupid. I'm not sure what I would do in his place, but they say that they normally tell the children at the burial, so that the child can visually understand that their parent is dead and then they tell them that they should put a bit of dirt on the tomb. Sounds traumatizing to me, but I've never had to bury a parent :grateful moment: ... I leave it to their experience and trust in their knowledge.
My colleagues are really trying to tell him that his focus must be on his children, and how they will be taken care of now that their mother is gone. They talked to him very clearly that they, together with him, will examine all his options and with their support they will come to a solution on how best to care for the kids.
One thing was clear, they need their dad in their life, so that the separation isn't too intense. The widower must have courage, and not let himself get into a deep depression. The boss lady actually told him, "don't commit suicide." Gee. Don't mince words or anything. It was an admirable discussion. I really admire my boss lady.
The weekend was awesome and rough all at the same time. Knowing that my friends were partying it up without me was H A R D ! ! ! Hector Moralez! Jason Hodges! Loopity Goofs, Gerard, Pepe... sigh... I won't get to hear my friends spin for months and months. It's almost as bad as knowing I won't get to eat peanut butter for 5 months (and you know I luuuuv my peanut butter)!!
I saw pictures on Facebook today and my girl Joanne brought a picture of me to the party and snapped me with all my peeps!! It was so awesome! (Jean-Guy, Nick B, you have to check Facebook, she used a Maria-Eating-Picture!! LOL!!!!)
The awesome part of my weekend was, of course, the beach. I managed to sit alone for all of 20 minutes, watching the waves roll in and out. I can sit and watch waves for hours - it's way better than TV. I can amuse myself by watching the rhythm, watching the waves get bigger and roll over, smaller and smoothe, watching them cross and how they hit the shore. There are also lots and lots of little crabs on the beach! :scuttle scuttle scuttle: cute! A few sea shells, but, uh, nothing to write home about. Even though I am.
So after my 20 minutes, a young man named Ludvert asked if he'd be a bother if he sat with me "pour discuter un peu". Apparently he was named for an American army buddy of his dad's. He's 22 and wants to move to Chicago in the summer to study accounting (to do his masters), or to Montreal where his brother is studying law. He wants to practice his English with me... but his English is reeeally bad.
I think he has a bit of a crush on me. I guess Roger, the dude who owns the beach bar, has dibs on me, but neither of them have managed to woo me yet (or ever, if my meh-ness is correct). (Update: Ludvert just brought me this tacky ceramic angel as a gift. He called and said, "I got you a present, can I bring it?" Very cute. He's a smart kid. I enjoy talking philosophy with him, and apparently he likes to go dancing and loves music, so I think we'll get along just fine. Plus he has a motorbike, so he can take me places, or teach me to ride when/if I decide to get one.) (Actually, come to think of it, Roger called to say that he bought me a present too... but I think he got some garbage bins for his bar as a present to me because I keep complaining of the garbage on the beach. That would be awesome! There's a retarded lack of garbage bins on the beach -- it's criminal.)
My brain is so filled with the enormity of the task before me at work, that boys are the last thing on my mind -- I really need to make some girlfriends pronto so that I don't really have to deal with boys at all, but girls don't seem to be around half as much as boys. Ludvert says that they're at home helping their mothers with the household - they're home doing shit because their mothers are tired since they've been doing it since they were 10 and then when the girls are old enough, the mamas stop doing anything and leave it all to their daughters, and the guys are kind of left to their own devices. I see a few ladies around and I really need to make more of an effort to talk to them.
But the boys I've met are all very nice and not at all threatening, and they have lots of fun and interesting friends to chat with, namely a big Nigerian dude who speaks English (DTJB just asked me in an email if I was speaking English at all and until I met him I hadn't!) and another kid who's really into Jay-Z.
The Umbrella song came on the speakers at Roger's bar when I was there with Ludvert and his friend, and I told them what the lyrics meant. So funny, they had no idea.
You can stand under my umber-ella-ella-ella eh eh ;)
So, I'm realizing that the kids here don't seem to play with toys at all. Even those families with a little money, the kids don't seem to play with much. I guess that culturally, they just don't play? I don't want to say that they're not raising their kids properly, since I've met tons of awesome adults who grew up here... more investigation is necessary.
I think back to Christmas with my niece Elbie and nephew Buddy, or the time I spent with little Ollie B and all the toys kids in North America have, no matter how poor the parents are. A ridiculous amount of toys, so many that they'll never play with them all. I remember the basement full of toys my cousins used to have and wonder where those toys went.
So the babies just sit there without even a rattle or a set of keys to distract them. Dzzt. BOORING! And I have no idea what the older kids do for fun. I know that some of them work, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. The girls also help out their mothers at quite a young age, getting water from the well, taking care of their siblings, cleaning, etc.
The child-work thing is weird. Having a 10 year-old come up to your car window selling gum, pens, and other random items at 11pm on a Monday... he/she'll be there til late at night and go to school the next morning. I know university students who complain when they have to work that kind of schedule.
No one sleeps here. There are a lot of patios and bars to go to if you're not working late. "Cotonou by night," the boys I work with joke. I guess when it's 30°C at night, no one feels much like sleeping indoors. I have air-con, but it's a luxury they installed for me because I'm white and I'm a wuss. But seeing kids running around after each other in the streets at 10pm and having no one around seem concerned - it's just weird. "Mom I'm going to Billy's!"
Then again, everyone's the same. I believe it more and more. Just because we don't see the kids running around outside, doesn't mean there aren't tons of kids running around at crazy hours in the night, not getting enough sleep, in Canada. And they have warm/cool homes, lots of food to eat, and don't have to work to pay the bills (at least I hope they don't).
Today we visited my colleague who lost his wife. Before we visited with the widower, my colleagues warned me not to cry infront of him (I can't help it, someone talks about someone they love dying and my mind automatically goes to Brenda and I can't help but realize how much pain that person must be in!!).
I asked Brenda to help me not to cry, and I didn't!! I was proud of myself, but it helped that he wasn't crying. There was a very dark cloud over his head though. I even smiled a lot, which I hope was a comfort - my colleagues may have warned me not to cry, but they had really long faces and heavy shoulders, and that's no help.
He's staying at his brother's because he can't sleep in his bed, and his kids are staying with a friend of the family's, a lady from his church. The kids must be wondering what the eff is going on.
They haven't told the kids yet, they're all under the age of 7... we went to visit the kids afterwards. Such cute kids. The oldest girl had these awesome spikey tresses with different coloured elastics. I told her I liked her hair and she smiled, shyly.
They must be wondering why random people are coming to see them, why they're not in school, where their mother is, why their father is only coming to visit sporadically. I know that they know - they're kids, they're not stupid. I'm not sure what I would do in his place, but they say that they normally tell the children at the burial, so that the child can visually understand that their parent is dead and then they tell them that they should put a bit of dirt on the tomb. Sounds traumatizing to me, but I've never had to bury a parent :grateful moment: ... I leave it to their experience and trust in their knowledge.
My colleagues are really trying to tell him that his focus must be on his children, and how they will be taken care of now that their mother is gone. They talked to him very clearly that they, together with him, will examine all his options and with their support they will come to a solution on how best to care for the kids.
One thing was clear, they need their dad in their life, so that the separation isn't too intense. The widower must have courage, and not let himself get into a deep depression. The boss lady actually told him, "don't commit suicide." Gee. Don't mince words or anything. It was an admirable discussion. I really admire my boss lady.
The weekend was awesome and rough all at the same time. Knowing that my friends were partying it up without me was H A R D ! ! ! Hector Moralez! Jason Hodges! Loopity Goofs, Gerard, Pepe... sigh... I won't get to hear my friends spin for months and months. It's almost as bad as knowing I won't get to eat peanut butter for 5 months (and you know I luuuuv my peanut butter)!!
I saw pictures on Facebook today and my girl Joanne brought a picture of me to the party and snapped me with all my peeps!! It was so awesome! (Jean-Guy, Nick B, you have to check Facebook, she used a Maria-Eating-Picture!! LOL!!!!)
The awesome part of my weekend was, of course, the beach. I managed to sit alone for all of 20 minutes, watching the waves roll in and out. I can sit and watch waves for hours - it's way better than TV. I can amuse myself by watching the rhythm, watching the waves get bigger and roll over, smaller and smoothe, watching them cross and how they hit the shore. There are also lots and lots of little crabs on the beach! :scuttle scuttle scuttle: cute! A few sea shells, but, uh, nothing to write home about. Even though I am.
So after my 20 minutes, a young man named Ludvert asked if he'd be a bother if he sat with me "pour discuter un peu". Apparently he was named for an American army buddy of his dad's. He's 22 and wants to move to Chicago in the summer to study accounting (to do his masters), or to Montreal where his brother is studying law. He wants to practice his English with me... but his English is reeeally bad.
I think he has a bit of a crush on me. I guess Roger, the dude who owns the beach bar, has dibs on me, but neither of them have managed to woo me yet (or ever, if my meh-ness is correct). (Update: Ludvert just brought me this tacky ceramic angel as a gift. He called and said, "I got you a present, can I bring it?" Very cute. He's a smart kid. I enjoy talking philosophy with him, and apparently he likes to go dancing and loves music, so I think we'll get along just fine. Plus he has a motorbike, so he can take me places, or teach me to ride when/if I decide to get one.) (Actually, come to think of it, Roger called to say that he bought me a present too... but I think he got some garbage bins for his bar as a present to me because I keep complaining of the garbage on the beach. That would be awesome! There's a retarded lack of garbage bins on the beach -- it's criminal.)
My brain is so filled with the enormity of the task before me at work, that boys are the last thing on my mind -- I really need to make some girlfriends pronto so that I don't really have to deal with boys at all, but girls don't seem to be around half as much as boys. Ludvert says that they're at home helping their mothers with the household - they're home doing shit because their mothers are tired since they've been doing it since they were 10 and then when the girls are old enough, the mamas stop doing anything and leave it all to their daughters, and the guys are kind of left to their own devices. I see a few ladies around and I really need to make more of an effort to talk to them.
But the boys I've met are all very nice and not at all threatening, and they have lots of fun and interesting friends to chat with, namely a big Nigerian dude who speaks English (DTJB just asked me in an email if I was speaking English at all and until I met him I hadn't!) and another kid who's really into Jay-Z.
The Umbrella song came on the speakers at Roger's bar when I was there with Ludvert and his friend, and I told them what the lyrics meant. So funny, they had no idea.
You can stand under my umber-ella-ella-ella eh eh ;)
Monday, February 2, 2009
Random Entry, Things I Forgot to Pack (aka the Golden Floss)
I forgot to pack dental floss. I have a tooth ache and figured out I'd gotten food stuck between my teeth. I think it's pork... it must be. Anyway, they serve this dish with a small piece of pork, and it's really tough and you kinda have to rip it apart with your fingers and then chew like crazy and you get tons of stuff stuck in your teeth... I'm really not used to it!
I'm hoping that when I ask them if they know what "de la soie dentaire" is, they won't stare at me blankly. I used the string from a tea bag... lol - necessity, right? As I was walking to the bathroom with my little tea bag string, I thought to myself, "this might be the best or the worst idea you've ever had."
Well, it worked, and I dislodged the chunk of whatever-it-was from under my tooth, then rinsed my mouth out properly with salt water, to disinfect, and I'll keep disinfecting every hour, and see how it feels in the morning. Hopefully I can find floss on my way home from work tonight so I can clean my teeth properly every day. This is not a place I want to have a dental emergency...
update: yup, I got the blank stare. My colleague suggested we hit a pharmacy, and the first pharmacy suggested we hit the mother-pharmacy. So we went... :( I had to pay $10 for freaking dental floss. But I got pizza for dinner so I feel happy again. :)
I'm hoping that when I ask them if they know what "de la soie dentaire" is, they won't stare at me blankly. I used the string from a tea bag... lol - necessity, right? As I was walking to the bathroom with my little tea bag string, I thought to myself, "this might be the best or the worst idea you've ever had."
Well, it worked, and I dislodged the chunk of whatever-it-was from under my tooth, then rinsed my mouth out properly with salt water, to disinfect, and I'll keep disinfecting every hour, and see how it feels in the morning. Hopefully I can find floss on my way home from work tonight so I can clean my teeth properly every day. This is not a place I want to have a dental emergency...
update: yup, I got the blank stare. My colleague suggested we hit a pharmacy, and the first pharmacy suggested we hit the mother-pharmacy. So we went... :( I had to pay $10 for freaking dental floss. But I got pizza for dinner so I feel happy again. :)
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Week One: I'm being a big baby today, missing my friends!
I can't believe I've only been here ONE week.
I miss home, miss my friends, miss Toronto. I miss:
- having a Starbucks on the corner
- a GROCERY STORE on the corner (I hope to find one nearby today, it's my mission, for breakfast I had to hit up a street vendor who was selling rice with a chicken wing and a piece of meat-something -- pork maybe? in this spicy-ish sauce and a baguette which cost me 450CFA or 85cents -- because all i have at home is gross gross Wonder-type bread that's too sweet and kinda tastes like soap)
- a 7/11
- a washing machine
- a TV with more than 4 channels
- an awesome internet connection at home
- peeps i can call up whenever i want to (and talk to for more than 20 minutes without it costing me $10)
- being able to cross the street without reciting a Hail Mary
- Toby! ;)
- RUNNING WATER FOR CHRISSAKE!!! apparently the owner is coming Monday with the plumber. geebus.
- a toilet that flushes properly and doesn't gurgle (now i know why my co-workers were saying i should get air freshner for the bathroom... eesh!)
- a shower
- i miss knowing where i'm going at all times... not knowing where i am is disconcerting to say the least!
... ok, enough missing, i'm taking my ipod and hitting the beach. apparently Sunday's the big beach day, everyone comes in from out of town.
when i went to the beach yesterday, this dude Roger (the fact that they all have French names is so weird, cuz it's like Roger Abolomo or something...) started to talk to me (African men... luckily they're very nice) and showed me the business he started, a small bar on the beach. He's got big plans and kept making fun of me and calling me Yovo and making fun of how i pronounced the name of the neighbourhood i live in. Jack-ass!! So I made fun of him back. His friend Richard was really interested in hearing about Canada, and I was very happy to talk all about it. He asked if it was hard to get a bursary to study in Canada... but I have no idea.
I rode a motorbike taxi (they're called Zim) and lived to tell the tale!!!!!!!! It's actually not that scary... I just try to find a bike that looks like it's in good condition, and a driver who looks nice. LOL - cuz who needs a helmet when you look like a good driver?? (says the girl who always wears her seatbelt when she gets into a cab...)
Ok, enough. I'm getting out into the heat and sunshine.
"Let the rhythm take you where you want to be...
Let your troubles all go by...
Release the pressure from your inner life...
Just get your groove on... lose track of time..."
Hope my friends all shook a leg for me last night. I was SO there with all of you.
I miss home, miss my friends, miss Toronto. I miss:
- having a Starbucks on the corner
- a GROCERY STORE on the corner (I hope to find one nearby today, it's my mission, for breakfast I had to hit up a street vendor who was selling rice with a chicken wing and a piece of meat-something -- pork maybe? in this spicy-ish sauce and a baguette which cost me 450CFA or 85cents -- because all i have at home is gross gross Wonder-type bread that's too sweet and kinda tastes like soap)
- a 7/11
- a washing machine
- a TV with more than 4 channels
- an awesome internet connection at home
- peeps i can call up whenever i want to (and talk to for more than 20 minutes without it costing me $10)
- being able to cross the street without reciting a Hail Mary
- Toby! ;)
- RUNNING WATER FOR CHRISSAKE!!! apparently the owner is coming Monday with the plumber. geebus.
- a toilet that flushes properly and doesn't gurgle (now i know why my co-workers were saying i should get air freshner for the bathroom... eesh!)
- a shower
- i miss knowing where i'm going at all times... not knowing where i am is disconcerting to say the least!
... ok, enough missing, i'm taking my ipod and hitting the beach. apparently Sunday's the big beach day, everyone comes in from out of town.
when i went to the beach yesterday, this dude Roger (the fact that they all have French names is so weird, cuz it's like Roger Abolomo or something...) started to talk to me (African men... luckily they're very nice) and showed me the business he started, a small bar on the beach. He's got big plans and kept making fun of me and calling me Yovo and making fun of how i pronounced the name of the neighbourhood i live in. Jack-ass!! So I made fun of him back. His friend Richard was really interested in hearing about Canada, and I was very happy to talk all about it. He asked if it was hard to get a bursary to study in Canada... but I have no idea.
I rode a motorbike taxi (they're called Zim) and lived to tell the tale!!!!!!!! It's actually not that scary... I just try to find a bike that looks like it's in good condition, and a driver who looks nice. LOL - cuz who needs a helmet when you look like a good driver?? (says the girl who always wears her seatbelt when she gets into a cab...)
Ok, enough. I'm getting out into the heat and sunshine.
"Let the rhythm take you where you want to be...
Let your troubles all go by...
Release the pressure from your inner life...
Just get your groove on... lose track of time..."
Hope my friends all shook a leg for me last night. I was SO there with all of you.
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