Monday, July 19, 2010

Here in Benin

Short and Sweet, just to let you know that I'm here! Will update in more detail as I can.

We will be moving out to our host homes on Wednesday, excitement, angst, nerves aglore. I tested out in French as LOW--novice...but, I can only go up, up, up. Jet lag is finally going away. Now, that I'm not so tired, I'm more optimistic. Had an overview of my program section. WOW!

All letters, etc are to go to the address I gave.

Reminder I will reply to any snail mail letter that I receive.

Love to all

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Good Morning Philly!

Yesterday was an amazing day—the accumulation of 10.5 months of various levels of paperwork, anticipation, stress, worry, nail-biting…well, you get the idea!

The flight from New Haven to Philly was easy; it was only an hour-ish flight, so much better than all the cross-country flights that I usually do. I figured out how and what ground transportation to use to get to the hotel, EGADS, even with wheels my bags are heavy. Of course, with my weighty carry-ons, my black tote bag that my Michelle gave to me so many years ago and a medium over the shoulder bag, I felt like a beast of burden.

This time the black tote bag carries my NEO, a paperback, French book/CD, CD Player, tatting supplies and instruction booket, etc, etc, etc. Speaking of my Neo, I forgot the PC connection cord, “blowing a imaginary wisp of hair out of my eyes,” I FORGOT THE CONNECTION CORD! Left it in the Neo carry case. I decided not to bring the case as I always carry Neo in the black tote and my thinking is that the case makes it looks like I have one of those small laptops in it, which would maybe make it more susceptible to theft. Also, I don’t want to be the rich American with the fancy electronic gadgets.

Anyway, the cord is ordered, shipped to my other daughter Jenn, who will then post it to Benin. I should see my cord in a month or so.

Yesterday was non-stop getting to know my fellow volunteers via discussion groups and nifty workshops. There are 62 members of this cycle of volunteers going to Benin. Yes, I’m the grandma of the group! Though, I believe there are a sprinkling of 30 somethings. It’s all good, as I expected that and I’m well-used to living and working and being surrounded with a group of adults in their 20s.

FRENCH, I’m not the only one with very low levels – to almost no French skills; it was the major theme of the day, cropping up in most of the workshops. We are all in this together!

I faded rather quickly during the last two hours of orientation and opted NOT to wander the streets of Historical Philadelphia with everyone else. Found an easy dinner at the little hotel bar & grill, took it to my room and relaxed. Then I took the time to rearrange my bags, which was when I realized that the Neo cord was missing. A good night sleep and I’m ready for July 15, 2010.

Now, off to the clinic to get shot-up… immunizations!

Cheers,

Monday, July 12, 2010

Weird Guilt

I feel like that I’m pulling off a fairly slick trick. It is mind-blowing, that I have legally escaped from my cubicle, society’s and my self-imposed confinements to fly off into a life-changing adventure …

Fresh Winds

Snap!

Into the breeze
brilliant white sheets
yearn to sail on

into unsoiled dreams.
Tethered by wooden pins
and swaying poles, the clothesline

stretches—
dips and swings
against blue sky.

Escape—escape

echoes their bright call
unwilling to be bounded again
tucked into a four-corner square.

© 2003 Beverly A. Tift

Sunday, July 11, 2010

How do you say, au revoir?

Farewell, this is harder than I thought it would be. My time is winding down on the coils of anticipation, excitement, the nagging thoughts that I might be forgetting something, anything . . . and then there are the leave-takings that are punctuating my last days before I leave for Benin: family, good friends, co-workers, acquaintances and the casual stranger.

Each relationship is different and so are their goodbyes. Most are quiet or talkative, strangely exciting or somewhat sad. Some are clinging; the bittersweet strand of letting go that vibrates between two hearts and then there is the one (that you don’t expect) that is stand-offish; distant with words unspoken.

It is the last one, I don’t understand, which leaves me wondering, yet again, where/when the relationship broken down into this aloofness that sometimes seems so far away that I can’t bear to consider what it means. There is too much that was left unsaid over too many years and each time we meet it is, either careful pleasantries or a wall. I have to admit that there are times when we are close and loving and at those times, I can only wonder that I’m imaging what I think I sense. But, a wall at ‘goodbye’ is painful, for both sides.

The goodbyes are a strange journey in themselves.

Distant Bridge

Between and betwixt,
a bridge of desire spans the gap—
to reach out soft and touch
that elusive memory—
a gradual drift back in search
of what once was.

Wired strands of heart
so strongly fretted,
vibrate through these painful thoughts.
Lost in that distant time
a hand reaches out
unable to bridge the gap between
two lands filled with old despair
that keens on the whistling wind.

Slowly the fog
veils those memories—
echoes from a misty past—
and it is the curvature of the gull’s wing
that defines the wind’s song.

© 2001 Beverly A. Tift

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Miscellaneous in my Suitcase(s)

Five days and a Wake Up until my Journey Starts

According to Peace Corps regulation, MS 543: Use of IT Systems by Volunteers, Trainees, and Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, Section 7.5, Safely and Security, “For their own protection, it is advisable not to provide information about Volunteers' personal possessions.” So if you want a complete list of what I’m taking you will have to email or PM me. Note this list will not probably be set in stone, until the morning of July 14th and then I’m traveling for a few days

But, I thought it would be OK to tell of a couple of small odd-ball items that are finding their way into my suitcase.

1. Go-Girl! I have to admit I been just marginally concerned about the strong possibility of using a squat toilet. No so much for the idea or the ‘ick’ factor, but for my sometimes creaky knees. Note, the squat toilets shown in wiki might be higher class than what I will come across in West Africa…so perhaps there is a ‘ick’ factor, besides the ‘knee’ concern. I came across Feminine Urination Devices (FUDs) in my internet wandering and found out that they are not such a weird idea. After doing a lot a research on FUDs, (there are several kinds/brands) I selected Go-Girl to test drive. Yes, works as it claims, simple, easy, fairly discrete and reusable. I'm going to order more, I plan to be prepared!

2. Oxo Good Gripes Vegetable Brush: I like the good reviews and one can always use a good veggie scrubber. Yes, I can probably get one in Porto-Novo or Cotonou, if fact it was noted in the PCV material that I received that a lot of items could be bought in these larger cities, but the quality might not be to what we are accustomed too. So, my veggie peeler, a small sturdy can opener and a veggie brush will be insuitcase #1

3. Handy Farm Devices and How to Make Them. I came across a website where this entire book was posted several years ago. It made such interesting reading that I bookmarked it…just in case, you know. Well, just in case happen! I’ll be in some type of farming environment, and how cool it will be if there is a need for a farm device, that I can pull out this book and say, "we can make this." Be sure to click on the “Look Inside” button at Amazon.com

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Bicycling Blues

My bicycling skills are coming along…well sort of. The way I feel about it is, that if I’m staying upright and moving forward, I’m coming along, or is that going along. Anyway, I feel that it is going to be awhile before I feel even marginally confident on a bicycle; it still feels too dangerous and scary. I can’t even imagine being in traffic with other bicycles let alone raging cars and monster trucks, and what if pedestrians decide to throw themselves under my wheels? This is forshadowing at its best as I peer around the church’s parking lot with pessimistic and squinty eyes.

The asphalt from where I sit seems to be at least 10ft below me (hey, the perception used to be 40ft) while I'm cruising in wide circles, around and around . . . first clockwise and then counter clockwise, with a few figure eights thrown in for good measure.

Strangely, I having problems with right turns and I don’t get it? Seeing that I’m right-handed one would think if I going to have problems with turns, it would be the left hand ones. I been diligently working on the right turns and think I pinpointed the problem. It seems that I’m either turning the handlebars just a bit too much or thinking about it too much. Or as I did yesterday not thinking about turning at all as I headed to towards the end of the parking lot and suddenly realized that I was not turning away from the bushes and trees but very sedately still heading right at them. Instant scrambled brain! Turn, turn, stop, stop where are the brakes, shit … not coaster brakes, hand brakes dummy, hand brakes, move fingers up to clasp the hand brakes, turn, turn…. Whew, it all worked out with a clumsy right-hand turn that wobbled but didn’t fall down. Yeah!

So if I never learned to ride a bike before this where did I get illusion that I had coaster brakes as this is a million-geared mountain bike that I’m practicing on. Way back when, in my very early twenties I thought it would be cool to finally learn how to ride a bike, so I bought one; a basic bike with coaster brakes that I tried to ride all of a week. I crash-landed too many times that week, lost any confident that I thought I had and sold the bike. So it appears that the fragments of using coaster brakes from that short experience are firmly entrenched in my brain patterns.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Two Left Feet

Two Left Feet

One requirement for my Peace Corps post in Benin is to learn French and at fifty-eight it isn't going very well. While there are some similarities between English and French, most notably the same alphabet and a number of true cognates, there are major differences: The word order of a French sentence, all nouns and most pronouns have gender, and the accent marks.

dense fog . . .
the GPS announces
a wrong turn

Not only does my tongue trip over the gymnastics that is expected of it, I cannot override my tendency to pronounce the French words that I see as if they were English. Also, remnants of my high school Spanish have slipped in, uno, deux, trois . . .

wallflower—
at every party
line dancing