Touring the Monuments at Night

12 hours

My vacation begins in 12 hours...

Done?

Last Friday I jumped through the final hoop to get my degree. In theory, this means that I am done. I have a new title to my name and am making the last corrections for my book (aka my dissertation). I have tickets out of here and a great vacation planned. Yet my day to day has not changed—I am still working long hours to get all of the ends tied up so that I can finish well. Beyond that, there are papers that I will be working on for months. So, while I am technically done, I feel far from it right now.

Tearful Remembrance

Although I did not cry tonight, I was tearful. Due to a friend’s desire to discuss the book, I have been listening to Leap of Faith: Memories of an Unexpected Life by Queen Noor; tonight I finished listening to the book. Really, I should not say that I just listened to the book as many of her words brought back vivid memories and feelings from the years I spent in Jordan. As I listened to the Queen’s story, I imagined where I was when different events occurred and added my own thoughts and feelings to hers as she spoke of favorite places that I also loved. It has been a beautiful time of remembrance.

As I sit here writing, there is so much that could be said, so many memories that could be recounted, and I do not know which to share. Part of this questioning stems from knowing that many people do not have a context within which to place these stories—although set in modern times, it is little different than listening to tales of Arabian Nights, albeit less interesting. Yet these stories are interwoven into my past and are part of who I am. So today I write about why I was tearful this evening.

King Hussein, the third king of Jordan, died from cancer during my senior year of high school. During the fall of my senior year he was at Mayo Clinic receiving treatment. In mid January of 1999, he was declared to be free of cancer and returned home. Following his custom, he flew his own jet home. On the ground, the country was jubilant—their king was well and returning home. There was dense cloud cover that hung low in the sky that day and a light rain watering the ground. There were rumors that the king would drive the processional route from the airport to his home in a ‘Pope-mobile’ with a glass bubble over the sun roof to protect him from the cold, damp air. But, the king would not have that and stood out of an open sun roof the entire parade route waving to his people. Apparently Queen Noor braced his legs to enable him to stand the whole way. As my home was only several blocks from the route, I was able to remain in the warmth of my home until I knew the king had begun the drive. Then my family and I headed to the route and joined the throngs of people. I waved my greeting at the king along with everyone else.

It was about two weeks later that I returned to that spot along the parade route, only this time everyone was dressed in black and the air was filled with grief and sorrow as King Hussein had not only take a turn for the worse, but had died. The procession moved much slower through the streets this time as there was no need to rush the king home, but there was a need to let his people say their farewells. After his coffin passed my spot, I watched as streams of men ran after the coffin with tears streaming down their faces.

Following Islam, the funeral occurred within 24 hours of his death, and yet over 50 heads of state, including the four living, healthy US presidents, came to the funeral. As the funeral did not have a time for eulogies, the US presidents and Hillary Clinton gave their eulogies at a press conference, and I sat in the audience. Living in the Middle East as the child of a diplomat was at times interesting and frustrating as American policy was often, let’s say, lacking. That night, however, was a good night as I was honored to listen as my Presidents eulogized a man whom I had come to greatly respect, a man that was, in many ways, also my King Hussein as Jordan was my home. That night of sorrow was a beautiful one in which my worlds collided.

Thanksgiving

This year I celebrated Thanksgiving at my brother and sister-in-law’s place. It was fabulous. This was their first time to host a family holiday, and they were gracious hosts. Not only did they have my whole family descend, but family friends from South Africa living in the US of A for the first time also joined us.

The final count was 10 people spending three nights at their place, and a total of 15 for Thanksgiving dinner; all in their spacious 2 bedroom apartment. One grand sleepover and it worked. The sleeping arrangements were: 2 people on each of the 2 futons in the living room, 2 people on a blow-up mattress in the dining room, 2 people in the spare bedroom, and Chris & Esther in their room.

As we cooked good meal after good meal, Esther said that she felt as if she was doing nothing and should help out more. Nonsense. We were each able to do what we are good at—some of us cooking, some playing with children, some cleaning up. She was laid back enough to let people take over her home. We each have our gift, and when we work together, it is good. Today I am thankful for such times, for family and friends that make such times possible.

To live

This afternoon as I spent time writing at a cafe. Writing for me; writing to work through thoughts hovering below the surface. The sun has now set, and it has been a good time to think, to reflect. The past months have rushed by disappearing almost before they began as my time was filled from waking to sleeping with the motions of research, writing, and trying to live. Now I am almost done and am working to remember what it is like to simply be, to let the mind and body slow to a healthy pace. It is good.

Today I spent time mulling over the future, thinking about my wants, my likes, and my desires. If you were to walk up to me today and ask what I was going to do next, what my goals and aspirations are, I could answer you clearly and concisely. I created goals that society approves of—they hard for many people in the Midwest to understand because they are, in their simple concept, so foreign and different from their daily lives, but they can appreciate them as goals.

One day I even created five and ten year life plans. They are good plans. But, if I am completely honest, I will not be disappointed if I do not walk the road of these plans. Today, as I thought about my wants, my dreams, I realized that they have nothing to do with these goals. Rather, they have everything to living life to its fullest.

I have imagined so many things for my life, so many different avenues that I could walk down; each is beautiful in its own way. What these avenues hold in common is this: I want to live. I want to continue to learn. I want to give of my abilities and knowledge. I want rich friendships and a home to share. These are hard ideas for many people to grasp as there is no seven step plan that will enable me to reach these goals, no five or ten your plan to be created. It means that I do not know what the future will look like What I do know is that it will be rich.

Today I am excited about the future, about the richness of life that this unknown is sure to be.

Surprise Symphony

This evening I got a phone call that there was a ticket to this evening’s symphony that was mine if I wanted it. Last week I had looked at program for this evening, though about going, but had not pursued it any further. The phone call came at 6pm, the symphony to start at 7:30pm. Somehow I managed to get the ticket, make it home, change into decent clothing, grab a quick bite to eat, and make it to my seat with time to spare.

I made it to my seat. Not just any seat, but a center 3^rd row seat. It is from this seat that I listened with full attention to:

Brahms – Tragic Overture
Mozart – Concert for Flute & Harp
Beethoven – Symphony No. 5 in C minor

It was wonderful. I am trying to think of the perfect way to describe the evening and I am at a loss. Before I knew it two hours had slipped through my fingers and as I stood up with the crowd to give the performers a standing ovation I could not help but smile.

I do not know why the person who bought the ticket could not go or why exactly it ended up in my hand. All I know is that it was a perfect surprise and I was blessed.

Dissertation is Done

Done:
2-To execute (a piece or amount of work)
3-To accomplish; finish; complete
~dictionary.com

It is out of my hands into the hands of my committee.
Sigh. It feels good.

No Hotels?

This past week I got to enjoy the company of friends in Denver—I was traveling there for a conference, and got to spend three nights at their house. I spent the days at the conference, and the evenings were spent with friends. This meant we shared meals and conversations. I got to go to dinner with them, several of their colleagues, and 12 Japanese medical personnel that were visiting for the week. On Halloween, my last night, I got to help Mimi host the same group of people (nearly 20) for dinner. For the Japanese, it was their first Halloween, and everyone loved helping answer the door to hand out candy and take a few pictures too!

One of my many conversations with Mimi during our visit centered on hospitality and opening one’s home to friends and strangers alike. Mimi spoke of Salt, a town in Jordan, where there are no hotels. The people of Salt saw no need for hotels as their houses were open to all passing through. If your car broke down, and it would take a day to fix it, you were welcome to stay. How incredible it would be to live in such a place! It is a simple thing—giving someone a place to lay their head, a meal to fill their stomach, and conversation to fill the air and the heart.

I have stayed on floors, in beds, on couches, and in rooms with young children. Every time I have been thankful for a home to lay my head and grateful for new memories made with friends. I have no idea what the future holds, but I hope that it includes being able to provide a place for friends, old and new, to share a meal, to rest their heads, and to create memories.

A Morning Walk Filled With Colors

An Image of a Scientist

Today I spent what I hope was my last day in the clean lab. While it is not something I am sad to say goodbye to, it is the one place I am guaranteed to feel like a scientist. In contrast to my field work, research in the clean lab is exact.

Before entering the room, which is pressurized to prevent any air from entering the lab, little white booties are put on over my shoes. Then I stand on sticky mat to clean off the bottom of the booties. Upon entering the room, which of course requires the correct code to unlock the door, a white lab coat is put over my clothes. Then I am surrounded by the soft hum of the air filters and the fume hood with the black and white checker floor beneath my booted feet. While in the clean lab, I work with dangerous acids and use disposable equipment, all while wearing safety goggles and special gloves. I work in concentrations of parts per million and parts per billion.

If you were to walk into the lab today, there would be no question in your mind about what you saw—everything points to a scientist hard at work. It makes me smile. And then I laugh because I prefer to be the scientist jerry rigging equipment in the field covered with mud from head to toe. But if anyone ever asks, I can say that I was once the perfect image of a scientist.

For the love of complex foods

This week my gi tract has not been my best friend. Further descriptions of this were written, but are now erased; I easily forget what is considered acceptable conversation by most people. Suffice it to say that now everything stays in, but my stomach cramps whenever I eat. (On a side note, this is supposed to happen when I am in the African bush not in a city in the Midwest, US of A.) This means that my diet has been reduced to simple carbs. I thought I could enjoy this for a while. It makes food easy to prepare and I don’t have to feel bad about having toast for dinner. But the doc also said no dairy and to stay away from fiber.

This means that the pork tenderloins I bought are now in the freezer, that the spaghetti squash is uncooked, and the wonderful veggies from the farmer’s market remain in the drawer of my fridge. No spicy black beans or stir fried veggies. No fresh tomato sauce. The leftover pear apple cobbler from Sunday dinner remains uneaten.

Tonight I mixed up my diet and had white pancakes with syrup. No whole wheat pancakes with bananas and pecans.

Today I found a recipe for zucchini pear soup. I can’t wait to feel good again.

Dissertating

Where have I been?
Writing and editing my dissertation.
Enough said.

Some days I wish I had not gotten out of bed.

Today
in the lab
Empty gas tanks
an inch of water
Annoying samplers

at starbuck’s
No black tea
Forgotten steamed milk
Empty half and half

the day’s end
hours of Deciphering
finds Bizarre data

Tomorrow is
a New day

Pottery

Large cappuccino mug with brown under glaze detailing.
Inside of mug has an iron oxide wash.

Mixed color stoneware, clear glaze.

Mug with clay details from when mug base was cut.
Clay details have iron oxide wash that is not glazed.
Porcelain, white glaze.

Mug with black under glaze detail.
Porcelain, red glaze.

Porcelain bowl, red and white glaze.

Mandatory Immunization Deadline

An email I received on Friday from the ND health services started out like this, “Our records show that you have not met all the mandatory immunization requirements for the State of Indiana. Please reply to this email so that we can tell you specifically what you are missing.
If you do not meet the state requirements, there will be a hold placed on your student account.”

Half way through the email I started laughing so loud that my office mates asked if I was ok. I am one of probably only a handful of students at ND that checks her immunization record yearly for far more immunizations than required by the state of Indiana. My “yellow card” not only has extensions added to it deal with all of the immunizations I have had since birth, but it resides in an envelope that lays out which series are complete and when I need my next immunization for certain diseases. At ND I have to get my malaria prophylactic prescription from the travel nurse; she now knows me by name and has stopped checking to make sure my immunizations are up to date.

The email ended, “If you feel you have received this email in error, please email us.”

Yes, I thought I had received the email in error and rapidly shot off a response to that end. However, it seems that they never got notification that I had updated my tetanus immunization three years ago, and needed the documentation. Tetanus vaccines are good for 10 years…unless your wound is a “dirty wound,” at which point it expires after 7 years. Needless to say, I stick by the 7 year requirement and so was 3 years ahead of Indiana requirements. I guess I should be thankful that the good ol’ state of Indiana, in combination with ND, are trying to stay on top of one aspect of my health…

A Date

The light at the end of the tunnel is in sight. After more than four years here, I have a date for the defense of my dissertation. If all goes well, the last major hurdle to being done will be completed the afternoon of December 7.

It was a good weekend...

Human Frogger

As I left my office this morning to relocate for a few hours of work elsewhere (ok...where the coffee is plentiful and the large windows look onto a lawn rather than the law school), I made a poor choice: I left during the change of classes. You would think that as I am in year five here, I would have learned better. My excuse is that it is Monday morning and it was "pre-coffee".

The main classroom building is on one side of my building and most of the dorms are located on the other side of my building; the change of classes finds a steady stream of people in either direction. Attempting to cross this stream of people requires careful examination of the situation as you have to make sure that the timing will be right to make it all the way across not just part way; attempting to get students to stop or make way for you is like trying to dam a raging river with a pebble. Honest. Every time this happens I think of Frogger, that beautifully simplistic game from the early 80's. If you need a break today, you should play a game of Frogger and use your imagination to replace the various obstacles with ND students carrying books, flirting with their neighbors, and talking on cell phones.

A Great Irony

Why is it that when we get dressed up, tradition says that the men put on more clothing and women put on less? I believe that it is one of the great ironies of life.

Saturday was the coldest day we have had here this summer / early fall; it was also the day of a friend’s wedding. The men put on their multi-layer suits and we women put on our one-layer dresses. They got socks and shoes and we got high heels and exposed toes. And thus the day began.

The bride was stunning, the groom handsome. We celebrated with much food, drink, and dance.

Then we hurried to the car in 40-something degree F, not C, weather with our one-layer dresses seeming to laugh at us as they flapped in the breeze.

Yes, fall is here…

Return to the Drum Circles

A few pictures of the event...

"The Way I See It"

Starbucks...in theory, I do not support Starbucks. In reality they supply me with my Tazo Awake Tea with steamed milk in it on a regular basis while I am on campus. Someday I will write about my favorite independent coffee shop in town. Until then, one thing I love about Starbucks: the quotes that they place on the side of their (disposable) coffee cups called "The Way I See It." Some of these quotes are worth keeping, including the one from yesterday's tea that is still sitting on my desk...

The Way I See It #284
"You can't lead the people, if you don't love the people. You can't save the people, if you don't serve the people." --Cornel West, University professor, Princeton University

A Drum Circle

A drum circle is any group of people playing (usually) hand-drums and percussion in a circle. Other instruments and dance can also be incorporated into the drum circle. They are distinct from a drumming group or troupe in that the drum circle is an end in itself rather than preparation for a performance. They can range in size from a handful of players to circles with thousands of participants.

~ Wikipedia

In order to work to complete my ND football experience, one of my girls invited me to the pre-game Friday midnight drum circle. I imagined some of the drummers from the band sitting on one of the quads (think big green lawn) letting the rhythms build into the cool night air. My conscious mind knew that this was wishful thinking, but my subconscious dreamed of an African drum circle building energy through the night.

What actually happened?

SR arrived at the steps of the main building at 11:15pm to save us a ‘seat.’ RH and I arrived by 11:35pm to find that SR was, literally, standing on the outside part of the steps of the main building—a cement ledge about a foot wide. People behind her and in front of her, but true to her word, there was space for all three of us to stand after being helped up by a rather large man. By the time that the entire drum line of the ND marching band showed up at midnight, there were probably more than 2,000 people gathered on the steps and the lawn, and ND security had to work to clear a circle for them. What followed was 30 minutes of ND cheers mixed in with drum circle improve. The drum line was a circle; it was a swarming, dancing group of percussionist. The crowd sang, clapped, and made all the motions of the traditional songs; they cheered the drum circle and soloists. Through it all, the energy built, and I could not help but be swept up in the moment with the crowd.

African drum circle? No.

A cultural experience? Yes.

Would I recommend it? Definitely.

Quilt

Over two years ago I took a quilt design and modified it fairly significantly. Since then I have been working (very much on and off) on the quilt. All the pieces are now appliquéd, and last night I spent the time to iron them and arrange them as the design did not dictate the exact location of each square. Before I pile them in order to be sewn together, I took a picture. Here it is.

In case you are wondering why it has taken me so long to get the squares done, my philosophy on hobbies is that they should not be a burden and drag me down, so I indulge when I feel like it moving from one project to another with at least five going at any one time. They generally, eventually, get done with me having enjoyed myself along the way. Sometimes they are born from an urge, a need, to create. Sometimes they are born as I work through frustration, anger, joy, disappointment, or elation. Some of these hobbies, or ‘creations’, come together fast, and others take much time. Some are not good enough or too personal to share, others are for sharing and for gifting to others. Though I am not an artist, these creations are very much a piece of where I am, so some will be shared here. As for this quilt, I’m sure pictures will appear as it slowly continues to come together.

The Theatre

On Wednesday I saw “Love’s Labor’s Lost”, a Shakespeare comedy that was new to me. Although there were a few more sonnets than necessary, it was fantastic. To top it off, the audience was excellent. An audience will either make or break a live production, and this was an audience that loved and understood Shakespeare.

Let me take a moment to say that I love live productions; sitting in an audience watching people perform can be a magical experience. There is an ability to engage with art that is missing from television, movies, and recorded music. This week began what will be my fifth and final theatre season at Notre Dame, and it was a glorious commencement. Given my general tendency towards sarcasm when it comes to the Notre Dame institution, I feel it is important to mention that I love our performing arts center. All six venues in the center are small and well designed; each has a separate foundation so there are no sound issues regardless of the number of simultaneous productions at a given point in time (check it out at http://performingarts.nd.edu/). To top it off, as a student, tickets are inexpensive, and access is all of a five minute walk from my office or a five minute drive from home. When I move, this is one of the things I will miss.

A new academic year

Next week the campus here at Notre Dame will be flooded with students with the start of a new academic year. This means that my students (a.k.a. ‘My Girls’) will be back. Along with the joy of them come 8,000 other undergrads. It also signals the start of another football season. Some of the changes about to take place on campus include:

• Parking lots being filled. The new challenge: beating all the off campus students showing up for 8:30 class.
• Gym being filled beyond capacity at my favorite times. Time to reorganize my schedule…but who wants to get sweaty in the middle of the day?
• All facilities (ok…specifically gym, pool, and restaurants) will be open longer hours. The next time I have to be in the lab at midnight and get hungry, I will have options beyond the vending machine.
• The many perfectly manicured lawns on campus will be filled with sunbathing girls and football playing boys. May the flirtation begin…better than TV.
• A higher energy level will begin to pulse through the air on campus in large part thanks to the combination of overly excited freshman. It is amazing how long freshmen look.
• I will refrain from all football commentary until a later date. Just know that we have not 5 or 6 home games this year, but 7.
• The finishing touches are being put on the lawns. Fresh mulch put down, grass fertilized, and flowers in full bloom. My guess is that there is a multi-million dollar endowment for the lawns. Here are a few pictures taken yesterday morning outside of my building.

At the Gym

I am a regular at the gym here several times a week. I come with my ipod shuffle and listen to my music when I am in the weight section or on the mats. I plug my headphones in while on one of the stair steppers or ellipticals so that I can listen to one of the four TVs while I become increasingly sweaty. It is a time for me to relax and enter my own little world; I come away refreshed. I say all of this not because I think you wanted to know my gym routine, but so that you can put my next statement in context.

If you ever see me at the gym or otherwise working out with a cell phone attached to my head, please take it from me, turn it off, and tell me to get a life. Better yet, smack some sense into my head. Twice in the past seven days I have seen a girl (not the same one) on an elliptical talking on the phone. Not a quick response or simply to take or give a message, but for an extended period of time. It is not as if I use my time at the gym as social hour or even a time to engage with acquaintances, but can we please, please, engage with the place that we are at when we are there?

Maybe this is the hidden beauty of swimming—you are forced to engage with the water.

Cinnamon

After a dinner characterized by the use of fresh basil and plenty of wine with friends last night, we moved on to dessert. We had my blueberry-peach cobbler that is topped with finely chopped pecans, oats, brown sugar, honey, spices and a bit of butter. Of course served a-la-mode. As we were eating this (delicious) dessert, the Italian in our midst makes a comment about the American use of cinnamon. His thought was that it was overused and in nearly everything. When I said ‘spices’ earlier, I meant ginger, cloves, nutmeg, and plenty of cinnamon. That got me thinking.

I love cinnamon. It goes in my pancakes, banana bread, carrot cake…most of my baking, some of my marinades. Sometimes it lands itself in my tea or on my toast. But the flavors blend so well—each complementing the next to be aromatically and sensually pleasing. Yet I was left with this question: Do I overuse this favorite spice thus neglecting others?

I would like to think that I use this spice appropriately so that it helps to build the flavor of the dishes I cook or bake while not overpowering and pushing out the other flavors. There is a long list of dishes that it has not worked itself into. Thus, I am hopeful that I have not fallen into this (apparently) American trap. However, I will certainly be watching my spice use a little more carefully in the near future to see what other patterns there that I might not have noticed so clearly.

I Fear

I fear that I am well on my way to becoming an eccentric professor. Yesterday I stopped by the department office to see if they had some packing tape on hand. I told the secretaries that they would laugh when they found out why I wanted the tape, and they did. You se, I needed to fix the cover of my notebook as it was about to fall off. Not just any notebook, but my large “Bloc-Note”, a type of notebook that I buy in Benin and rater love. It is filled with random work and is rather the prefect work notebook. Not to mention, the last large “Bloc-Note” I brought back with me.

As I was fixing the cover of this beloved notebook, my pen came to mind. I like the “Pilot Dr. Grip Gel”, and Office Max is kind enough to special order my “Very Fine Blue” ink cartridges at no extra cost. People argue for the look of black ink, but black ink disappears on the endless photocopies and print outs with which I work. My students know that “accidentally” taking said pen would be disastrous to my day.

Notebooks from Benin. Pens with special order ink cartridges. To think that I do not intend to be a professor—at least not soon…

As Promised

Nearly two months ago I promised that the blog would return in a new format. Here it is. Nothing particularly fancy or special, but it will be a piece of where I am and what I am up to. Though the coming months will largely be filled with work as I hope to finish with this stage of my life at the end of December, I am sure there will be enough to smile about that I will have things to share with you. If all goes well, I will update weekly.

A different style...

Thank you for joining me on my travels through Benin. It has been a pleasure to share a piece of my life with you. As this chapter of my life is coming to a close, I plan to work on a little redesign of this blog and will continue to update it in the future. Updates will not be as frequent, but they will happen. The next six months will largely be filled with finishing the dissertation, but then the travels will start up again as I head to East Africa for a couple of months of fun at the end of December. For now, I hope you enjoy the last bundle of posts.

Saying Goodbye

I believe that a proper “goodbye” is important. It is important because it provides closure. It does not mean that the person or place will be forgotten. It does not reduce the memory. It does not remove longing. It does not mean that you will never see that person again. Rather it honors that person, that place—the relationship. It means that those times were worthy of saying goodbye to as we feel no need to say goodbye to the unimportant things in life—they simply slip into our past.

Today is the age of quick travel from one place to another, seemingly reducing the need to say goodbye. In 24 hours of travel I can make it from West Africa to the Midwest, US of A. We have internet and phones. When I am in the bush I can use a satellite connection to phone or email as needed. It is an age in which I can travel to a country thousands of miles away six times for my doctorate research. No slow ships or trains making that too timely, no state laws or cultural norms preventing me, as a woman, from pursuing graduate degrees. All of this worked together so that over six trips, four of which were summers based in one village, I could fall in love with a land and a people. Not just a people, but certain people.

Today we give business cards and trade email addresses like they are sports cards. You are checking my blog, which instantly allows friends—old and new, and even, possibly, people unknown to me, to check up on my life and travels. This has taken away the old fashioned goodbye. Now we say, “See you later.”

Over the past week I said, “Goodbye,” to a country and people that I love. I said goodbye because these things that seem to make my world so small do not translate to life in the bush. I can hand out piles of business cards, but that does not enable long distance communication. Internet has come to the town where we go to market weekly. Unfortunately, many of the people that I love most do not even make it in to market but a couple times a year. Forget the hurdle of physically manipulating a computer and the internet or finding the money to use such resources—they are hardly ever in town. It would be beautiful to return to the village again in the future, the village where children great white people by yelling, “Pameeeeeela.” It would be beautiful, but it would not be the same.

The twins would be too large to throw into the air as their lungs filled with laughter. Little Felecite would no longer be able to get piggy-back rides (almost too big for that now), and she would be able to out run me. Big Felicite would no longer grab a bucket to join me for my nightly shower. Pascal would no longer run to great me as I walked past his house. New mud houses might have been built, old ones fallen apart. Trees, even the large Baobabs, might have fallen due to old age or insect influxes. Time changes both the land and the people.

Maybe some things would be the same. I could still sit in Martine’s kitchen filling my clothes with the aromas of burning wood. She would still laugh when I suggest such odd combinations as peanut sauce with rice for dinner. Fortune would still be working to get one step further, to educate his children. I would still hear Andre’s deep, booming voice before I could see him. Remi would still take me to see his expansive farms. The women would still use large mortars and pestles to pound yams, and stones to grind peanuts. Morning would still be greeting time. The red dirt road would still be red and the jagged hills magnificent. These are things I imagine and hope would be the same if I were to return in 5 or 10 or 15 years.

But I don’t know if I will go back in 5 or 10 or 15 years. Even if I do, it will be different. Regardless, my relationships in Benin are such that they warranted a proper goodbye—no “see you later.” So I said goodbye. A good, hard goodbye. I cried. It has been good.

Parents: A Top 5 List

A week with my parents and we were able to explore Benin from the south to the north, from the east to the west. Much could be said about this week, so I have reduced it to a top 5 list. Thanks Mom & Dad for coming!

1 – Meeting the Team
My parent’s first night in Benin was spent relaxing in Cotonou meeting this year’s team (minus CR who had stayed in village). When we entered the section of the hotel where our rooms were I heard several squeals as the girls busted out of their rooms. Even though it made her uncomfortable, RC managed to use my parents first names. Later in the trip mom made the following comment, “I knew it would be wonderful to get to know your village, but I had no idea how wonderful it would be to meet your girls.” Yeah, I love them too. (Picture: the village team.)

2 – Village Life
The morning after they arrived we tackled the visa situation and then headed north to village. During our 45 hrs in village we got to go to market, greet a ton of people, eat my favorite village foods, listen to a big rainstorm early one morning, work with a couple people from another village to finish training on one of the water quality monitoring instruments, go for a walk, deliver gifts, take outdoor showers, get bit by mosquitoes in the latrine, sleep under mosquito nets, and say goodbye. It was packed, but it was perfect. I do not think I could have asked for anything more. (Picture: Me and Dad in front of some of the beautiful rocks & trees near my house in village. Our clothes were made locally with fabric bought at market during previous trips.)

3 – Beautiful Land
Benin is beautiful. As the country is not large, we were able to drive most of the way north and almost east to west as well. I think the most beautiful regions are where I live…the beautiful hills that give the Colline Department its name are fantastic, and at the north (north of Natitingou) where there is a stunning mountain pass. This was my first trip north, so it was exciting to see how the land, villages, and people changed. (Picture 1: Me & mom in front of the lower waterfalls in Tenengou, on the border of one of the national parks in the north. Picture 2: Mom & Dad relaxing.)

4 – Rich History
We stopped in Abomey, the ‘capital’ of the Fon people, which was the largest Kingdom in old Benin, where we toured the palace. Benin’s original name was Dahomey, after this kingdom. In the south we spent some time in Ouidah where we saw a Portugese slave trader’s home and did a tour of the slave route. In the US of A the history books seem to start on the slave boats, but the story began long before that with a rather dehumanizing process that occurred along the slave route. For me, these pieces of history are important as it creates a framework for both history and the modern culture. (Picture: Monument at the ‘Point of No Return” where the slaves boarded the ships for the Americas.)

5 – Cassa del Papa
The second to last night was spent at a nice, European / American style hotel. Only 7km from Ouidah, the hotel was located on the beach, had several pools, various other forms of entertainment, hot water, big towels, and great food. It was perfect after nearly a month in Benin for me and a week for my parents. We were able to be lazy around the pools (there is dangerous undertow along the beaches in Benin, so we enjoyed the pools while listening & watching the surf crash), play some speed scrabble, and just relax. Oh…and my first big breakfast in a month was eaten in the morning. It was luxurious. (Picture: View from our balcony of the storm rolling in just before sunset.)

Meet Felicite

Remember the 'Relationships of Resistance' post?

These are a few pictures that Mom took of me and Felicite. What a joy!

. versus !

As so happens with many things on the French keyboard, the “.” and “!” are not on the same keys as they are on the American keyboard. However, I find it interesting that on the French keyboard you have to press the shift key to access the “.”, but no shift is required for the “!”. I guess people are just more expressive in French!

Back to Cotonou

A week later and the trip is just about done. I have a few more hours with mom and dad before they leave tonight and then I leave tomorrow night. Since last writing we had several days in village, I said a tearful goodbye to my dear friends there, we travelled most of the way north, then back down again, did a few tours of historical areas, and had a fantastic 24 hrs at a nice beach resort. Over the next day I hope to write a few blogs with pictures to give you a snapshot into all that has transpired during this trip, and will post them as soon as I land myself in the US of A. Thanks all for following me with this last journey through Benin. Much more to come on Friday...

To the airport

Much has happened since I last wrote including heading to Cotonou a day early because RC needed to visit the clinic. BUT.....mom and dad arrive in 17 minutes, so I am off to the airport. More next time.

Recent Silence

I'm sorry if you have been checking the blog and have been disappointed
due to the general lack of substance that has been posted. Life has been
busy and exhausting here. That does not mean not good, just that the
last thing I want to do at the end of any day is sit back and reflect on
all that is going on beyond the processing necessary to prepare for the
next day. So today is Thursday, the day I have designated as the day of
rest this trip, so that is what I am doing.

What does that mean? It means lounging in my pj's all morning. It means
sitting in Martine's kitchen talking and playing with the twins. It
means doing laundry. It means listening to the girls sing random songs
from musicals. It might even mean taking a nap this afternoon. Maybe a
long walk before the sun sets. Today it also means a blog update.

Since I have arrived I have met with all organizations involved in my
project, had initial meetings in 4 villages who I started working with
last year, and then met with 3 of those villages for their final
debriefing. In 2 of those villages I closed out the project, something
that I will do in a third tomorrow. This is a task I wish I could avoid,
but with the work done and my PhD near its end, it is unavoidable.
Thankfully, this has been easier than anticipated, though no less
exhausting.

The project is continuing in two villages--one of the four from last
year and the village that it started in, where I live. Due to a new well
being drilled in the other village and a few other individuals leaving
due to jobs in other villages or towns, this is requiring doing a
training like I have done in the past. Trainings are normally 2.5 days
long. As time is limited, the training will take place in 1 day this
Saturday. It is always sweet to watch people as the grasp new concepts
and become scientists with their own little 'field lab', so this should
be another good, though hectic day.

On Monday we will head to Cotonou. Tuesday night my parents arrive.
Wednesday I will head north with my parents and everyone else will board
the plane for elsewhere. This trip is flying by.

Random Conversations

RC: My feet do not get clean until I return to the States.
PC: Do you use your lofa on them when you shower?
RC: Ewww. It touches the rest of my body. Why would I do that?
PC: Because it has soap on it.
-----------------------
LS: It tastes like sweat. (Of oral rehydration salts.)
-----------------------
SR: Good ting I have low rise pants on. ( Due to the effects of dinner
expanding in her stomach after drinking some water...)
-----------------------
Of cheese just boiled, that had previously been sitting on the 'kitchen'
table:
LS: And then it will go back to being unrefridgerated?
RC: No....then we will get electricity and a fridge.
-----------------------
Describing her junior high crush.....
SR: He was sooo popular... and once he gave me a Milky Way!
----------------------
While reviewing some data....
PC: I bet you didn't know you could have a pH of a 100.
---------------------
LS: What is the difference between 'por favor' and 's'il vous plait'?
RC: Ummm.....'por favor' is Spanish?

Ode to Mosquito Coils

/Written by 'my girls.' To the tune of "God Bless America"

/God bless mosquito coils
spirals that we love.
Stay lighted all nighted,
till the sun rises high up above.
From the kitchen
to the bedroom,
protect us from itchy bites.
God bless mosquito coils
Guarding our home sweet home.

Market Day Exhaustion

Sometime you will get to hear more about the joys of market day, but a
morning of work and an afternoon at market means that I am exhausted.

Some days I wish I was like one of the babies here and could fall asleep
on my mother's back without a care in the world.

Some where someone is already sleeping...

EAT

If only you could have heard the whining out of two of the girls this
evening about the food they were served--not the taste, but the
quantity. ei ei ei. Thankfully I can turn a deaf ear ;-)

Relationships of Resistance

Each relationship is unique and expresses itself differently. A few
things seen recently:

-RC reads letters from her man each morning speaking of his love for
her. Her heart has influenced his such that he now wants to visit Africa
with her to know her heart more.
-Martine sitting in the kitchen, one of the twins on her lap, the other
next to her, patiently feeding them though they could easily feed
themselves by now.
-LS knowing that when she calls home from school worried about time to
do the shopping that 'Mommy will fix it' by getting some of it done for her.
-A child calmed by resting on his mother's back as she walks around the
house.
- RC and SR walking back to the house, their body language screaming to
all around that they are sisters at heart and spirit. As LS has joined
the dishes, breakfast, and evening preparations of our village life, I
have confidence it will soon be a threesome as surviving the foreign,
and making it habits created deep bonds.

These are all good, healthy relationships. But, the relationship of
interest today is none of those. Rather, it is a relationship that,
while containing love, is a relationship of resistance. My little
Felicite. Sunday morning, our first full day in village, she would not
come and greet me though all the children were telling her to come. But
then, as she saw us preparing to head to mass, she grabbed a bucket of
water and soap and marched off to the shower (of course ignoring me on
the way). When she arrived at mass in her beautiful dress, she would not
come near by, but sat slightly in front of me so that I could see her.
As we headed out, without a word, I gave her my Bible, a part of our
past routine, to carry home. She would walk beside or in front of me,
but no hand held out like other children to greet or to hold. At home
she gave me my Bible and off she went to change to her play clothes.
Upon returning, she silently joined the crowd on the porch. A little
later I grabbed her and flipped her upside for she is gymnast at heart.
It was then that her serious face broke. And her dimples slowly appeared
as smile crept across her face.

My you experience and revel in a beautiful relationship today.

Being stuck in Cotonou for an extra day provided a surprise holiday with very little that needed to be accoplished. Put four women together in a city with nothing much that has to get done, and the same thing happens here as happens just about any other place: some quality shopping.

One of my favorite places as of late is a little hole in the wall store about a block from where I normally stay in Cotonou. I discovered it by asking about a little road-side stand that had some shirts made out of beautiful fabric. They said there was more and lead me behind the rusted metal gates, behind a building, and suddenly I found myself in a dirt courtyard where they were dying and hand printing their own fabric to make tablecloths, clothing, scarves, or whatever else you could dream up. No longer confined by the small offerings of a road-side store, I have been able to pick through their color and stamp samples to get what I want. So, a few weeks from now when we return to Cotonou my order will be waiting for me. In case you are not sold on this place, the boss, LS, RC, and SR will all have orders waiting for them as well. Maybe I will post a picture of the beauty when we get it all so that you can share in it.

Then we were off to the 'Centre des Artisans' to explore for a short while. Next to the fabric I buy in the market, this is where I do most of my barganning, and today was no exception. I found a necklase at a store that I return to every year... the owner and I have become friends of sorts over the years as we have talked over many a price of various items. Today it was a necklace I mostly liked....but I did not want the bronze pendant, wanted it a bit shorter, and a different clasp. We struck a deal, half the money is down, and I shall be back in June to pick it up. No wonder I often get frustrated jewlery shopping in the US of A. Then, being that it is LS's second day in Benin, I gladly helped her get a reasonable price on a small, quilted map of Africa.

It is a beautiful thing that I can argue over the price of an item, its design, its utility, and then the price of the item again, and, through this process, gain respect for and respect of the shop owner. And then I insult no-one, but actually add to that respect and subseauent relationship as I repeat the process time and again with the same people.

Ponder this thought the next time you consider using the self-checkout lane at the superstores in town.

Arriving and the Devaluing Dollar

I have often been asked why I have not toured Paris given the number of times that I have transitted through Paris. Thus far, it has simply not worked out. But, my experiences in their airport have not moved me to make any great efforts either. Points of interest different from previous trips this time include having the equivalent of the TSA people being on strike making me spend 30+ minutes waiting in the secruity line even though I was just transiting and waiting to bord the plane to Benin because a student almost did not make the connection. We figured that it would be bad to leave an undergrad who did not speak French in France on her own for a couple of days... I guess the upside would have been two unexpected days in Paris with LS.

But, we are all here. Our luggage should all be here tomorrow night, so this only puts us a little behind schedule. (For the record, my luggage made it, so I have not broken my record of all luggage arrivinj for business trips. Too bad this luck does not roll over to personal travel.)

The devaluing dollar. Yeah. How much do I not appreciate my government every time I travel and get less money when I make the exchange to local currency than I did the previous trip? I will refrain from pages of thought on this given that I am typing away on a French keyboard right now. I guess the upside is that the wad of cash I get when I exchange money is little bit smaller so makes me look less pregnant in my hidden wallets.

On my way

I am sitting in the Atlanta airport, an hour before we will start the flight to Paris. SR, RC, and LS should be at their respective airports getting ready to fly too, so in a few hours I will be meeting up with the ladies that I affectionately call 'my girls'. If you read this blog last year, you heard some about them, though I created random names for them with each post.... this year you will get to know them by initial as per their request--I believe some of their loved ones are reading the blog this year, and so they will get to know a few stories before the girls have internet again. (One of the joys of my job is that I have the emegency email, so get to check it on the satellite system.)

So...for my first update of my girls, SR gets the prize for not having called me yesterday with any random questions about packing or traveling. She also gets the prize for being the last to register with the Embassy :-)

In othe rnews, I think I remembered everything originally forgetten in the packing, but time will tell on that one. A shorter trip that requires less equipment, and my bags had so much space in them relative to past trips. Here is a list of the new stuff traveling with me that you might find of interest:
-Orange i-pod shuffle (music--a beautiful escape)
-Lime green fleece (I am tired of being cold on planes)
-Blue (w/disgn) 'buff' .... look up ' buff' on REI if you are curious

I think that is all worthy of mention. In case you were curious, the colors are important ;-)

About to Leave

The next trip begins this Tuesday, May 15.
I return June 14.
More to come soon.

Chinese food and laughter pre-6am

This morning I was up at 5am after nearly 9 hours of sleep. By the time I got to the hotel last night I was not overly coherent and was thankful to make it to 8pm before I gave up and crawled under the fluffy down comforter of the king size bed in my room here in D.C. So at 5 am when I was awake, hungry, and finishing getting caught up on emails and people’s blogs, I grabbed my left over General Tsao’s chicken and stir fry veggies from the window sill (figured they would stay at least a little cold there), and figured I would work on the last blog entry for this trip. That is when I found out that my blog has been updated to ‘new blogger’ and that I do not have access right now. So, this will, like all the other blog entries, be sent to my lovely brother so that he can update it for me…

What all happened when I was up north and there was silence on the blog? In a nutshell: we took water samples using old technique and a technique that has never been used the way we (successfully) used it, had meetings with the village and the local branch of the water organization I work with to let people know that my trip to Benin in May will be my last and that the project will then be handed over to Steve & Moussa, and I tried to greet as many people as possible. In the capital we managed have more meetings, lots of work with the anthropologist working with the project this year, and do a little bit of shopping. I even managed to get my toes and fingernails painted ‘with designs’ during the day before I flew out.

What does this all mean? For the research and the project, it was a good trip. For me, it was a whirlwind and hard trip. I only got to spend one night in village. I am so thankful for my one moonlit shower and dinner under the stars, but not enough time to just ‘be’ with my friends. It is the beginning of the end for me in Benin. It is hard to hand over a project that so much has been poured into, the schedule exhausting, and sad to think of saying farewell to trusted friends. But it was good to return. It was bittersweet.

My next and final trip is planned for around May 16 or so. I will be in Benin for about three weeks of work followed by one or two weeks of pleasure travel. One or both of my parents (depending on work schedules) will be joining me for that time to meet the people and explore the place that has stolen part of my heart. I hope to see parts of Benin during that time that I have not yet explored and also hope to say a good and proper goodbye to my friends. So, until I return to Benin in a few months, I am signing off.

Feeling like a villager....

The trip up north was a whirlwind, which I will write about later as I am only several hours from heading to the airport.

So, for now, a story from last night.We were at a dinner with the NGO we work with to celebrate what was accoplished this trip and the foundation it laid for new work. As much as is possible with the little I have with me, the hair and make-up were done, a skirt and jewlerry on. Before our dinner comes I am straining to hear people as the open night air swollows their voices and one man speaks Belgian French. A different accent that I struggle to understand in any circumstance. Then dinner arrives and I am faced with a half a barbequed chicken and fried bananas. I look at the chicken and attack with my knife and fork. It takes about two seconds before I am stealing glances around hoping, wishing that someone will pick up their chicken with their hands. It seems like a century of attempting to attack my chicken when someone finally puts down their fork and I sigh as it has suddenly become acceptable to dive in with my hands. Oh how I wanted to be in village where I can understand the French and silverware is optional if available.

More from Washington in a day....

Geology & Electricity

Yesterday we visited a village to see if it was a good sight for drilling. Friends used to laugh at classes that I took classes that ended with 'ology' like geomorphology, but I was smiling at them as I looked at the land with Steve and talked with the locals looking for clues as to what we might find below the surface. Unfortunately things did not look good for drilling with our small rig. This was confirmed by the geologic map last night and at a meeting today where we looked for data of other wells drilled in the region. Hopefully we will have better luck at the village we visit tomorrow.

Electricity. This trip has had the most sporadic electricity of any thus far. Apparently Benin is not being so good about paying the electric bill to Ghana (we get a lot of electricity from them thanks to their hydroelectric dam). Last night the electricity cut out at about 2330 and did not come back on until 730. A breeze and I can sleep, but warm, humid air, and I dream of a cross breeze or a fan. As there is no chance of a cross breeze in my room here, I am dreaming of electricity tonight...

In other news, we head north tomorrow and the papya I had today was fantastic.

Le Pili Pili

Day two and we are still on track, and I am feeling spoiled with the internet acess.

Last night I made a request to go to Le Pili Pili, a nice local restaurant that has fantastic grilled fish with the special 'pili pili' marinade. The type of fish you ask? The type that tasted good and had more than enough for three people. Topped off with fried plantains and Fizzi Pomplemouse (grapefruit soda), I could not ask for much more.

Wish there was something more to report or some great stories, but it is really 'life as normal in Cotonou.' Maybe there will be something good after a visit to a new village this afternoon...

Fast Track in Africa

The trip was uneventful with the only let down being flying delta trans antlantic. It is the first time in a long while that I have not had my own personal tv, and then they did not bother to even show a movie on the projector--just crappy tv shows. But seeing as that is all I have to complain about, I should stay quiet.

We have had the most efficient arrival as far as getting started on work. The car situation was already worked out, we had a short meeting last night, and one today so far. We should have a mixture of meetings and checking out villages for drilling Tues thru Thurs, and will end up in Dassa Thurs night. Friday will be the first day in village (while Steve will stay at a hotel in Dassa, I am hoping to get a night or two in village), and we should return to Cotonou Mon or Tues. In village we will be taking samles (we get to pound through the soil to do these ones)have meetings with the various people we work with, and I hope to swing by the other four villages that I work in as well. Then we fly on Wed. AKKKK.....does anything happen this fast in Africa?

As for Cotonou and the expected weather--I was told it was going to be dry. Funny. Although I was still able to sleep fine, I definitely beg to differ about the humidity. Maybe it will be different as we go north to Dassa. Until then, my hair is large and frizzy, my skin recovering from the cold dry Indiana winter, and I am happy to say that the 90+ degree (F) temperature difference from Indiana is a good one.

Before long...

I will be back in Benin and posting again. The next trip is Feb 3-18. More to come then...