And this is why we have Camp GLOW

The taxi driver pulled the car to the right side of highway right after the checkpoint in the road, marked by a car with a police helmet on top of it and several men standing around in uniforms that make them look more important than they actually are.

The police walked to the car with the swagger of law enforcement officials. His was more accentuated than in the US, but he also carries an AK-47 as part of job.

He covertly took the 500 CFA coin out of the driver’s left hand and bent over to peer inside the open window. The volunteer sitting next to me and I directed our eyes elsewhere.

We shouldn’t have worried. It wasn’t us he was interested in. Doing a remarkable portrayal of a man in front of a meat counter choosing a cut of steak he regarded the five middle school girls we were taking back to our villages after a weeklong girls camps.

“Those are some pretty girls you have there,” he said before pivoting on his back foot and signaling to the gate operator to let us pass. 

The most meaningful compliment I've ever received

My student, Florentine, raised her hand to share what she had written during our “Black is Beautiful” session today. (Skin whiteners have a huge market in Benin, and the desire to have skin that is the color of my skin is strong. This, though, is not the post to talk about that.) The instructions for the final question on her worksheet was to write what two internal aspects of her partner’s character she admired.

She chose me.

When she was called on, she stood up strong and proud. Stronger and prouder than I remember standing when I was 15 years old. 

“I love Madame Emily’s beauty,” she says. “I love her strength. I love her bravery.”

Sometimes camps are as much for the counselors as for the campers.

In which I come to a realization during an activity meant for middle schoolers

It was the fourth day of my second camp this summer, and my friend, Kelly, was leading a session in which the girls were writing a “Where I’m from” poem. One of those poems that come with prompts to fill in the blank. One of those poems I distinctly remember filling out in third grade. 

As I sat listening to her presentation and trying to cultivate the creative thinking of the members of my team, I thought about how much my responses to those prompts have changed since the last time I filled out of of these poems. How much even my responses would be different if I had filled out one of these poems 15 months ago. 

So, I filled it out:

I come from portable hard drives, Beninoise beers and the MOOV network.

I come from orange dirt that never leaves your clothes, roads that are sometimes more dirt than road and heat waves that make you sweat when you’re sitting still.

I come from yams and moringa.

I come from morning Nescafe and omelet sandwiches and sticking out in a crowd and the Collines, the Borgou and the Attacora.

I come from a high capacity for feeling awkward and hair that everyone wants.

From “This will be the hardest thing you ever do” and “The time will fly by.”

I come from the religion of hamburgers, pizza and Velveeta cheese.

From Porto Novo and pate blanche and sauce tomate.

From landing at the Cotonou airport at 9:45 p.m., sweating while 57 people sort through their luggage, wondering what the heck you just decided to do and feet that will always be dirty.

I come from workstations, buvettes and 6-hour taxi rides.