So, Monday was my first day of work at the orphanage. It was one of the most difficult days of my life.
I began the day waking up early in the morning, getting showered and ready by 7 am. Jules told me that we would be going to the Cotonou to visit the Consulate and pick up my phone in the morning, and I would visit the orphanage in the evening to set a schedule for the work I was going to do with them. However, when he arrived he said the plans had changed and I would stop by the orphanage in the morning instead. He was busy and had to go to Cotonou during the night anyways to pick up another volunteer, so we could get my phone then. (I don’t know if this has been made explicit yet, but Cotonou is the main city in Benin, and it’s about 40 km from the small town Ouidah where I am staying, so you have to go there to do pretty much everything).
So we headed off to the orphanage. When we got there, the director was not in sight. He had to take one of the young children to the hospital and was gone all day. However, his assistant Raphael (another volunteer, although he is a native of Benin), was there. Raphael lives with the children at the orphanage and hopes to be a pastor in a Methodist church one day.
Jules left me with Raphael and said he had to go prepare things at the volunteer house for the other volunteer who was arriving tonight. He said I should go over my duties at the orphanage with Raphael, and head home for lunch, and return to the orphanage later in the day.
Raphael spoke no English, so it took my toddler French about an hour to learn what the daily activities were. Without further instruction on what to do during the day, we proceeded to go through them.
This was a big mistake for me. Why? One word: heat. The heat in Benin is not like the heat in Canada. In Canada I have survived temperatures as hot as 38 degrees centigrade. It was only 29-30 degrees on Monday. However, since Benin is so close to the equator, and Ouidah is so close to the coast, it fits right in as a humid tropical climate. Equally as unfortunate, one of my many Achilles heels just so happens to be humidity, and I can even go so far as to say it is my greatest physical weakness (please, any arch enemies who are reading this, don’t use this against me). Here’s an example of how even the slightest humidity can literally destroy my will to live: when I take a shower here, during the time it takes me to dry myself off, walk a distance of one foot to my bed, and get under the bug net, I am sweating so much that it feels like I’m still in the shower. I know, it’s disgusting (please, arch enemies, respect the same message). However, it’s just how I am, and I can’t change it.
And it’s just how Benin is and that won’t change either. Walking home for lunch, my clothes stuck to my body with sweat and eyes watering from all the dust and salty sweat obscuring them, I had one thought: I want to get out of this place as soon as possible. In my mind, I was already deciding whether it would be worth the wait to change my flight the slower but cheaper way by email, or if I should pay up and do it by phone. Another factor that played into my mood besides the ever brutal air thick with moisture, was how unrewarding my day at the orphanage had been.
We had spent the day mostly lounging around, and when the kids needed to be dropped off or picked up from school, I superfluously accompanied Raphael on the dreadful walk. We tilled the ground at the vegetable patch with some spades, and although Raphael was encouraging, I know I sucked at it. Otherwise I watched as he collected eggs from the chicken coup in the orphanage. I felt useless and only showed signs of life in the shade. It was terrible.
The plot was bad, but the setting was downright depressing. I have pictures of the orphanage that I have taken since (I didn’t have my camera with me that day), and they will do better justice to the truth of these children’s lives than my words can. However, let me share one story that might put this in perspective.
We returned to the orphanage after our work at the garden and I was beginning to feel dizzy from the water loss from perspiring. I asked Raphael there was some chilled water I could drink to replenish myself; he said that there was water, but it was not chilled. The orphanage did not own a fridge. Thirsty as hell, I told him that was fine and we proceeded to the kitchen. On the countertop sat a pot with what looked like charred fish. There must have been two dozen flies sitting on the fish or buzzing around it. Raphael saw this and called for one of the children, who promptly brought a filthy rag and threw it over the pot nonchalantly. I was alarmed, but Raphael did not respond, so I understood this to be normal. Then Raphael retrieved a smaller pot, which he dipped into an old yellow container full of water for washing hands, which probably held gasoline in the past. As I saw his hand touch the water, I cringed a little. He had just contaminated the whole pot – earlier he had used the washroom without washing his hands. Choosing to ignore this, I held out my hands below the pot, and this is the real reality check – Raphael shook his head, raised the pot to his lips, and drank from it – motioning for me to do the same. I hesitated for a moment, and in that moment you can imagine the sanitary concerns that ran through my head. But it was a brief moment, and I took the pot from him and gulped down half of it before handing it back.
Around 5pm, after making my third round trip to the school, I decided it was time for me to head home. This time I wisely took a moto taxi (pictures coming next post, I promise), grudgingly accepting that I probably shouldn’t subject myself to probable harm as an excuse to head home. Although the ride was refreshing, I had made up my mind: I could not handle working at the orphanage anymore, the heat was too much.
Later that night, Jules dropped by my host family’s house to pick me up for our late night journey to Cotonou. Since he was early, we stopped at a bar for drinks before we left Ouidah. I decided that I would discuss my concerns about the day with him and tell him how I felt about sticking around.
At the bar I was more at ease because the night had settled in and a gentle breeze had started flowing through the streets. Sipping on my drink, a carbonated blend of delicious fruit juices, I explained the difficulty of my experience and my concerns about the future with great detail. When I was done, Jules laughed. “It only took one day, huh?”
I glared back. I had a feeling he wouldn’t understand, because he was accustomed to the heat. However, Jules continued. “Look,” he said. “I know it was difficult to live like that, but that is someone’s life. Raphael and the children live that every day”. He continued, explaining how important it was to live poverty rather than just see it, in order to understand it fully.
“You’re right in saying that you shouldn’t be doing manual labour, that’s not your expertise. We will look for a different way for you to help the orphanage, maybe you can start on the administrative side of things right away. You won’t spend another day like that, I’ll make sure of it. But let me ask you one question... now that it is over, now that you are sitting here with me and we are enjoying Ouidah. Was it a bad experience?”
I thought about it for a moment and a grin slowly started to spread across my face. “Jules,” I said emphatically, “No experience is bad experience”. Jules grinned back and we were soon laughing together.
The sun had set on the day that shook my personal will, right down to its foundations. And I was still standing, albeit slumping. It had passed - and in doing so, it had felt like my judgment day.
EDIT:
The pictures below were taken during my second day, when I returned to discuss my position in helping out the orphanage. It was suggested that taking photos to raise awareness would be a good start.
EDIT:
The pictures below were taken during my second day, when I returned to discuss my position in helping out the orphanage. It was suggested that taking photos to raise awareness would be a good start.
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| Raphael turning for a picture while gathering water from the well |
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| This child is in the midst of exam period, and is using his time off to help with some cooking. |
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| This is the kitchen that I mentioned in my post. |
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| The boys washroom. Raphael explained that they squat close to the green pail and use the water in the containers to "flush" the toilet through the hole. |
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| The youngest of the 45 is not old enough for school yet, so I was able to snap a couple photos of him during my visit. |
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| Inside the chicken coupe with Raphael. This is in the middle of the orphanage. They sell the eggs and meat to fund their activities, but they don't make nearly enough in a city where 30 eggs can be bought for $1.50. |
Jenna Kara Gaurav your trip sounds like quite the experience so far! I am not a big fan of reading but your blog is very compelling, didn't know you were such a good writer. lol. have enjoyed all your entries so far. keep it up buddy! hope all is well :)