A Sense of Belonging in a Strange World

This email is probably something a mother wants to hear when her son is sent off to work in another town in the western world or Europe and North America, not Africa, but it probably makes her happy to an extent, either way. The past twelve days, I have spent in Parakou, the unwritten capital of the North, at a Peace Corps Workstation. The workstations are like hostels for traveling volunteers from any country, but mainly for the country in which they are found, to be used as a safe haven and a place to do some work that cannot be done at post. Their third reason is to be used as places to hold domain-wide conference/meetings. This is why I was there, but the meetign was only one day long. I was there the weekend before for a VAC meeting which can be summarized as a high school student council type meeting, where people complain and the representatives take them to headquarters and get told nothign is going to change!!! But anyway, the week was awesome, because I got to see everyone from my training group and my work group and spend a lot of time partying, drinking and eatign good food, as you read in the last email.
The ESC (Early Service Conference) is a check-up on the new volunteers, to share experiences, give each other advice and to generally here that you are not alone in your problems. After this week, the main thing I found out was that I am too busy as a volunteer in comparison to most other volunteers, but that is how I like it. I didn’t come here to sit on my ass but to work and come out of here with as much experience and lessons as possible. But more importantly, I suddenly realized that I missed home. Not America-home, but my two bedroom house in Savalou. I missed being able to walk down the street and be called all the random nicknames that everyone has created for me by mispronouncing my name (my favorite being “god); I missed my own bed, my own kitchen, my bars and most importantly, my dog. When I first saw him, after he spent the week at my managers house, he was soo nervous cause he thought I was angry at him, but the second i sat down he came running, cause his Papa was home. He hasn’t been more than 5 feet from me since I have been home. (The people on my street keep asking home my baby is doing cause he is always with me.)
The strangest thing to me is that I have found this home. It is a relief at the same time as an omen. Work is finally picking up, my neighbors are friendly, I have made true friendships with the French volunteers in town and people generally know me as me, and not as that Yovo that came here to offer more gifts (which I have given none of). I am home, not something I ever thought I would say when in Africa, but here I am. Now the next thing to do is make this place even more livable with a soon to be added shower in “plein aire” and a couch, so I don’t always have to be in my bed. Anyway, I am off, need my good rest for tomorrow, whcih I will spend all day in the factory catching up on everything that I missed.