We’ve just started the second semester in Benin.  Benin’s school calendar is very odd: the first semester starts in October and goes to the end of February, while the second semester is only from March to early June.  I believe it’s set up this way to compensate for how incredibly slowly some of Benin’s schools start up.  Even at my school, which is relatively well-organized, some teachers didn’t start holding class until mid-November. 

During our recent week-long break between semesters, the volunteers in my region of the country had an HIV/AIDS bike tour, cycling to eight different towns and villages to give basic HIV/AIDS information sessions to locals.  The idea behind the tour was that local Beninese in isolated villages would turn out to see the sweaty white people who’d arrived on bicycles and get some possibly life-saving information in the process. 

It was a big success; many of the people we spoke to, especially the rural women, didn’t even know what AIDS was.  The HIV virus only infects about 1.5% of the Beninese population, giving it a low profile in Benin.  The only trouble with this low profile is that it means many people have only a vague idea of what the virus does and how to keep from getting it.  During certain stops on our tour, we heard everything from “condoms will give you HIV” to “a traditional healer over thataway says he can cure AIDS, so what’s the big deal?”

At the sessions we held in a few small villages near my post, I saw many of my students and their parents in the audience.  (That made it a little awkward when I was holding a wooden phallus and demonstrating how to use a condom.)  They loved that I introduced myself in the local language and used scattered Goun words during my talks in French.  (We used local language translators for all our sessions to make sure that everyone understood.)

During the HIV/AIDS bike tour, I swiped a copy of Alan Moore’s Watchmen from the house of another volunteer and read it off and on during the first week of the new semester.  The young children in my concession got very excited about the graphic novel’s pictures.  When they saw the Nite Owl character, they thought he was a zangbeto, or a Beninese guardian of the night.  The author’s picture of Alan Moore on the back cover brought out “Jesus!  It’s Jesus!”  I doubt anyone’s ever made THAT mix-up before. 

The strangest pop culture misunderstandings can happen in Benin.  Many of Benin’s cheap consumer products are imported from China, with images of Asian and Western celebrities and characters.  These items never come with explanations, so the average Beninse person is left to make their own interpretations of what they see on their bags, clothing, and toys.  I see eighteen-year-old boys going to school with pink Barbie backpacks.  One of my colleagues at school likes to teach in dress slacks and a button-up pajama top with rows of teddy bears.  Fabric with a badminton shuttlecock pattern gets a cry of “Oh, look at the flowers!” 

I gave up trying to explain the “real” meaning of these pictures to my Beninese friends a long time ago because I found that they honestly don’t care.  The idea of American culture doesn’t mean enough to them to make them want to know how their t-shirt was meant to be seen in the country it was designed for. 

On the other hand, asking Beninese people to explain what the odder images mean – now THAT’s fun!  The other day, I was at an outdoor market looking at some sewing supplies.  I noticed a zipper for sale with a Snoopy zipper-pull.  “What’s that?” I asked the vendor, pointing at the grinning Snoopy.  “Is it a dog?”

“No, it’s not a dog,” she said firmly.  Then, she frowned and took a second glance at the chubby figure standing on its hind legs.  “Well…maybe it’s a dog.  But there’s something…just not right.”