Harmattan and Friends

Surely, you have already noticed the sight of your breath on your way out the door in the morning. You have pulled out that old comforter to cover the thin August sheets. Reports of snow in far north foretell of the coming season. I am happy to report from Dassari that a fine season has descended upon us as well. The closest thing to winter in Africa, around the months of November, December, and a little of January is the climatilogical blessing known as the Harmattan. It is contained in the larger dry season spanning from October to April. I am unsure of the precise cause of the phenomenon—some people in town have mentioned something to do with wind from the north from the Sahara—but I do not need to know why  to enjoy its offerings. The days are still the same, dry, cloudless, climbing up to 90 in the sunlight, but slowly as the horizon swallows the sun, and the sweet, sweet night covers the Atacora, the air turns brisk, plummeting to the 70s—if the gods are pleased, maybe the 60s. This is more or less a state of emergency for the Beninese. If one is unfortunately obliged to drive a motorcycle after dark, the parka, gloves, scarf, woolen hat are all assembled. Moi-même, I lay in the cool dark of my room at ease. Though, last night, I was compelled to put on a t-shirt. (Not only is it cold, but a fine dust rests in the air, like a dense fog. Reports claim this micro-dust fog can be thick enough to actually block out the sun. For me, it gives me a runny nose and coats me in a thin layer of dirt. One gets dirty just by sitting outside.)

Is that all he has to talk about? The weather? Gentle reader, please forgive me, amongst the proper foreign correspondence, it is necessary to make at least passing reference to the mundane. (Although I find it rather comforting, when talking to a neighbor, to hear just how awful the chaleur is today. Human beings may be one of the more adaptable creatures living on this rock. Though, whether calling the frigid Siberia home or laying a mat down in Equatorial Guinea, man will complain about the weather. “Can you believe this heat?”)

So, let’s catch up. For TEFL, part of our work is to help improve the competency of our students, but additionally, the competency of the teachers. Things like encouraging new teaching methods, English immersion, professional practices, etc. In order to achieve this, we are required to have counter-parts at our schools. Our counterparts are allies in community and in the profession. Let me tell you about my buddies.

My first homologue is KOUAGO N’Koulou. I call him Kouago (his last/family name).  He arrived in village about a month after me. His is originally from Djougou, the capital city of the Department of Donga, so naturally, he is city-folk. I can speak more Biali then him to the great amusement of Dassari. The fella has been teaching English for 8 years all over Benin. He told me he chose to study and teach English because of Michael Jackson. When he was a kid, he heard some music from Thriller and was really confused. He did not know at the time that there were languages outside of Bariba and French. So naturally, he wanted to become a professional singer. Life continued, and teaching became a more viable choice. The way the Beninese school system is set up, if you are a full-time teacher, or permenant, the Ministry of Education sends you where they are inclined. Virtually all schools in the north are in need of teachers, so where you end up is due to the secrets of the bureaucracy. Thus, my colleague life has been transplanted into the middle of the bush. He doesn’t speak the language, the village doesn’t live up to his standard of living, and he doesn’t have any friends there. It is wonderful to go to lunch with him and here in complain about the awkward position of a bench or the cher prix of some chicken. My instincts at this point are to accept these small matters of life as usual. But Kouago indulges this unspoken part of my mind, that bitches and moans about the villageois choses.

My second homologue, GNAMMI Laurent is a first year teacher, fresh from 3 years at a Porto-Novo teacher’s college. He was raised in Porga, right on the border with Burkina Faso. After studying in the south, he came back to teach. It is nice to work with someone just as young and inexperienced. We can shake our heads after class and share the thought, “This can be so frustrating.” He has moved so quickly through school that is older brother is a student at our school.

Other notes:

•       Plenty of time to read. This season it has been: Mating by Norman Rush, Malaria Dreams by Stuart Stevens, We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families by Philip Gourevitch, Moby-Dick, History in Africa in History by Basil Davidson and Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino (I read these last two at the same time. The two complemented each other wonderfully. Reading about these majestic ancient African cities that have disappeared over time and with a mystical recreation of those same cities by Calvino.) Raise High the Roofbeam Carpenter, Love in the Time of Cholera (while I felt like I had something close to cholera), Forest of a Thousand Daemons, to name a few
•         Check out http://www.awesometapes.com/ for excellent African music
•         Food, I have been making a rosemary potato lentil stew every week or so when potatoes pass through town, ginger sardine pasta, bean flour beignets, I made tuna casserole last night.
• NEW ADDRESS:
• Chazaq Llinas
  Corps de la Paix
  BP 168
  Natitingou, Benin
  Afrique L'ouest
  To prevent theft, write some bible verses on the letter/package to remind the world there are being watched by the Lord.

Happy Thanksgiving (by the way)!

The School Yard