Monthly Archives: June 2006

In which t loves her projects and hates the Peace Corps.

By theresa | Published: June 22, 2006
Franklin: Meow! (Play with me! Play with me!) Theresa: I’m trying to work, shit for brains. Franklin: *lies down behind Theresa’s laptop and bats at her fingers while she types* Meow! (That’s okay! You work! I play!) Theresa: *swats at cat* Not a good idea, animal! Franklin: [...]
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Happy English Day!

By theresa | Published: June 19, 2006
Saturday was my English Club’s n-th annual English Day. Every year, five or six Wake Forest (fuck the Deacs, go Terps!) students come to Benin for about a month. They explore Cotonou and some of the surrounding areas with a Beninese-American professor. Anyway, it’s a big pony show, and part of [...]
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In which t cleans. But only a little.

By theresa | Published: June 18, 2006
It’s going to rain again tonight. Which is good. I’m sweating my ass off and my fan burnt out, so if Cotonou were to, I don’t know, cool down about 15 degrees, that would be motherfucking sweet. Humph. You know, there are some negative sides to actually having Beninese friends here. Like the fact [...]
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Help me raise some cash!!

By theresa | Published: June 15, 2006
Benin is a tiny resource-poor country. It has a literacy rate of less than 50%, and literacy among women is less than 25%. Even where there are means, girls often remain uneducated, while their brothers and sons go to school. They marry early and die young. Women are just now beginning [...]
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In which t remarks that live is much improved.

By theresa | Published: June 15, 2006
I finally have a love/ hate relationship with my post. It’s taken a while, but I’ve finally stopped alternating between resigned resentment and outright hatred. Now I vacillate between absolute adoration and hatred, but at least it’s love half of the time. It took a lot. My primary project needed a boot in [...]
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Done and . . . done.

By theresa | Published: June 6, 2006
Wow. I don’t know how to describe what I’m feeling right now. Three weeks of desperate typing, fighting volunteers for chair space in the med unit, and frustrating changes, and . . . it’s done. The things you never expect to be doing as a PCV. Basically, it was a giant clusterfuck. [...]
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