After three weeks at post, I decided I wanted to see some white people, speak some English, and eat some potatoes, so I’ve come into Cotonou for a day and a half’s vacation.  I went to an ice cream parlor after dinner, so I’ve already accomplished my main goal for the weekend. 

Traveling last weekend wasn’t an option thanks to the municipal elections, held every five years in Benin, which choose the mayor and other local big-shots.  We’re still waiting to hear about the results in my area, so I don’t know yet whether the mayor I already know (and have a friendly relationship with) has been re-elected, or whether I’ll have to start all over again with a new guy.  I heard about a little bit of violence in Abhomey, but there wasn’t any trouble connected to the election in my area.  It was odd for me to hear my co-workers at the school talking seriously about the dangers of switching political parties.  If a Beninese person hears about a new political party and decides to join it, they run the risk of being left high and dry if the new party doesn’t endure.  It would be risky to be without a party, and very difficult to get accepted again into their former party.  One of the other teachers at my school told mentioned how he’d felt pressured into switching political parties a few years ago because his ballot choices were leaked at the polling station and members of the main opposing party came and threatened him for voting for his party’s candidate.

Now that I’ve gotten used to teaching, I’ve stepped my efforts to learn Gun, the local language of my post.  (Since my efforts since October have been near zero, that wasn’t too hard to do.)  One of the Beninese English teachers at my school who’s a friend of mine is tutoring me, and Peace Corps reimburses me for the lessons.  Since this teacher speaks Gun, French, and English, we can go between French and Gun for grammar and vocabulary questions and between English and Gun for questions about the cultural context.

I have several women friends at my post who speak little or no French and who think my attempts to speak Gun are about the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.  They’re very encouraging, but since Gun’s the first tonal language I’ve ever studied, I wonder a lot about how often I say what I think I’m saying.  One of my older women friends sells Sodabi, a strong local liquor, in the market, and I always stop by her stall to say hello.  Last weekend, she had me stand up and recite my few phrases in Gun to a bench-row of her clients.  (“Look what the white woman can do!”) 

My Gun lessons’ll probably have to go on hold for a little while, though, since my teacher/friend has come down with hepatitis B.  He thought it was malaria when he first started feeling ill; luckily, he went to the doctor and had a blood sample analyzed, so he was able to get a correct diagnosis after a week or so.

I’m up to thirty-four books in Benin in the past nine months.  Right now, I’m finishing up Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible.  Most of the book takes place in the Congo, but around page 480, she has her main characters vacation in Benin, so I got a nice surprise when I reached that part.