wrapping things up in Savalou
First of all, happy Beninese independence day! This morning there was a big parade downtown (when I asked people when it was set to start, no one really knew of course. "between 8 and 9am," they said. Of course, it started at 9:45.) It was nice to see people come together and cheer for the various groups of people that would march in the parade. The association of hairdressers, the association of mechanics, the local church, the association of taxi drivers. People here don't wear Beninese colors to commemorate the holiday, but everyone seemed to have on some of their best garb.
Today is my second-to-last day here in Savalou, as Saturday morning I will be taking a bus down to Cotonou, where some of Sneha's family friends will pick me up, stay in Cotonou for a night, and take me back to Lomé with them on Sunday morning. I will stay in Lomé with them for two and a half days until my flight Tuesday night, and I'll arrive in Pittsburgh Wednesday evening. That means that I have six days until I see my family! What?!
It's strange, that everything is coming to an end. I've become more reflective, as I'm realizing that everything is soon going to seem like a dream. I'll be back in my bed, in my childhood home, feeling like this couldn't have possibly been real. Did I really live this? Did I really just live two months in a foreign country, thousands of miles away on the African continent, living among villagers, some of which make only a dollar or two a day, and none of whom speak my native language? Did I really just live my entire life in a language I started learning only a month before I arrived? And if so, what am I leaving behind? Certainly not what I thought I would leave behind. I didn't make any sort of groundbreaking impact on the NGO I work for; it was clear that this internship is much more for me than for the NGO's sake, as even our boss encouraged me to spend less energy worrying about "work" and more energy taking in Benin and its people. I didn't save the world. I didn't solve the problem of malnutrition here, or fix gender inequality. I didn't bring solar light to all of Benin, or even make my sought-after deal between the couturiers here and a popular clothing designer in the US. And because so much of my work depended on wifi that didn't exist, I couldn't even finish the website for SBE-Gratos, the one small task that I figured was a sure bet. Â And this has brought me to wonder, on so many occasions: Why am I here? Why did I come here? Was it a waste? Do I matter at all?
But I can definitively say, as I leave here, that I have made an impact. I have made an impact in the only way that I really know how: on individual lives. Through sitting with Romeo for hours while he weaves and Clotilde while she sews, through asking excited questions as Lucille makes yam pilée. Through a smile and a greeting to nearly every person I pass, through photos taken and through extreme gratitude for an experience that I can never forget. I hope that maybe, for just one person among the hundreds I've met, I've been able to teach them something. To tell them about the United States, and to show them that white people aren't any better than them, aren't any different in many ways. To show them that it's worthwhile to get to know us instead of just screaming from the side of the road. I hope I've encouraged people to be more enterprising, as I have tried. I hope that the high-five spreads throughout all of Benin, as has been my secret goal in teaching everyone the high-five since I got here.
But I know that, above all, this experience was for me. Every effort I've made to love this country I've gotten back tenfold. I've learned so much about people, and how much we both have in common and don't have in common at all. I've learned how far goodwill can go, how much a smile really changes everything, no matter what the cultural differences. I've learned how to do nothing for an entire day, and how to be okay with that. I've learned to work under bosses from a completely different culture, and how to navigate those very real cultural barriers. I've learned that efficiency is not the end-all be-all of goals, and that sometimes, there really are things that are more important. I've learned the beauty of hospitality and generosity, as I have been touched by it over and over again. I've learned how to eat things I hate, because there are people in this country who would give all they have to eat like we do. I've learned to live without 3G -- and usually without any wifi at all --, and how to appreciate that. I've learned more in two months than I know how to explain in words. This experience is bigger than words. It's abstract and confusing and difficult and also more beautiful than I could have even imagined. I can't believe I'm going home soon to a place where women won't be carrying baskets on their heads, and strangers won't greet each other as they pass by. I will miss this place more than I ever thought I would, and I won't be able to forget the people or places I love here. Clotilde the couturiere; Dansille the woman who paints nails; Romeo and Francis the weavers; Armande, Adele, Louise and Shaquina from church; Salifa and Maman Fifi, our food-related friends; all the amazing women I've met at the market and around Savalou ... I salute you all. You are the most incredible people (and especially women) that I have ever met. They inspire me to be a better person, and to appreciate the gifts that I am so, so lucky to have. I will think of them often.
Above all, all I can say is that I smiled at Benin. That was my work here. And anyone who knows me in the US knows I wouldn't have it any other way.
