On The Joys of Rural Zemming

I have recently returned from my technical visit to the wilds of southern Benin, and these next few posts are a recap of that experience and the amusing things that happened to me.
It was a dark and stormy night in Porto-Novo…
Isn’t that kind of sultry and beguiling? Actually, stormy would have been an improvement. Instead there were just a boatload of cloudy/humid days in a row (including the oh-so-important laundry day, Sunday) and most of the volunteers were darn near out of clothes. Compounding the problem was the fact that packing for Technical visits by their nature demand dry clothing, it was clear that we had quite a pickle. As a result, I had to Trek it up. While I had previously been promoting a much more debonair image of myself then my outfit on the departure date would suggest; it was probably time to stop lying anyway. So there I was, walking to Songhai, in a steady rain, anticipating only the other 5 stagiers to go to the given corner of Atlantique Department that the Administration had chosen for us. I was met by the near-entirety of PSL 23, all huddled amongst the motorcycles, waiting for their bush taxis to take them to parts unknown. After a two hour car ride reminiscent of a Jersey Shore hot tub party, it came time to bid adieu to civilization.
When one is going to use a rural zem, preparation is important. Helmets are a must as always, and closed toe shoes are typically preferred. Pants are optional, yet strongly encouraged. Its important to remember all of these things in addition to my already fashionable attire, which resulted in me looking much like a nerdy Evil Kenevil wannabe who had watched Top Gun too many times. (As though such a thing were possible) Still, the aviators serve a purpose. When one is flying down hills straight out of Apocalypse Now the experience is much improved by being able to feel the wind and smell the country (both of which are impaired by the visor of the helmet). Corneal scratches however, are a memory I would prefer to miss, thus necessitating the mirrored lenses of ballistics glass that cover nearly 80% of the face and make you look like you just stepped out of a Delorean.
Preparation aside, the ride itself was very beautiful and while cresting one of the ridges I was quite envious of the southern volunteers. Then as we descended into the valley I contributed to the Greater Toffo Area Department of Transportation’s road maintenance program by clearing bush away from the trail with my face, knees and elbows and decided the South just isn’t for everyone.