“American”

This picture was taken with my camera while it was stolen. It was an accident that it turned out so nicely, because people here are oblivious to how to work a camera. I also have pictures of boobs and other things like that that were taken while my camera was traveling without me, but I thought I would spare you guys.

I am an American… Je suis Americaine. I never thought I would be so proud to say that. You know, that is a nice thing about America; You could hate everything about your country, you could badmouth it in debates, you could even spit at your own Presidents picture, but she would always be there to back you up when it comes time to say, “Please help me, I’m not from here, I’m American.”

Now, I wouldn’t say that I hate America. Not in the slightest, actually. I truly love her, but I just don’t agree with all of her ideas. In fact, just like all of us, I occasionally resent something about her. She has come through for me lately. She has made me realize that I may owe her an apology for an occasional badmouthing.

Of course there is a story that goes with this introduction. Here it goes:

So, last Saturday evening me and 8 or 9 other volunteers went to eat at a restaurant in Natitingou after having a little meeting. We went to a place called La Grignotte I believe… we always just call it Chez-Amadou. Amadou is the owner of the restaurant, the cook, and a hilarious alcoholic. Every time we go there we order steaks and fries, and afterwards he always breaks out a huge bottle of sodabi, a local hard liquor. Well, as always, Amadou refused to stop pouring until midnight, when we all made ourselves go home. This particular night I had (on the ground next to me) a sweater, my purse, and my helmet. That night was a tumultuous haze, but the next morning I awoke to find that my purse was no where to be found. I called Amadou first thing because he is a friend and I knew he would help. Then, when I really knew no one else might happen to have it, I went back to his restaurant. He looked around, and told me to go back home while he looked. I went back to the house while he took off for Djougou, a town about an hour away, to ask some employees if they had seen the sack. I waited in hope that whole day. Later that evening he came back by and told me that he had checked everywhere, he had informed the police, he had made an announcement on the local radio, and he had even checked with other clients that had been there, and no one had seen my sack. After this I quickly lost hope, and the rest of the night I tried not to obviously sulk.

Honestly, I’m slightly embarrassed to admit what was in the sack. My world was in that sack. I might as well have had my brain in that sack as well, because that was the only thing lacking. I had just been to the bank to take out 2 or 3 months of money, so I had a little more than $300usd in there. To add to this, I also had 2 credit cards, my Benin bank card, my identification cards, a brand new 1gb USB key, my camera, a tripod, my cell phone, my leatherman multi-tool, and then all my personal stuff like chapstick, hairbrush, and perfume. Like I said, the only thing missing was my brain.

The next day I decided give the situation my best though. It was Monday morning by then, so I called Peace Corps headquarters in Cotonou and told them what had happened, and they told me to file a report with the local police. I did this, then I continued by stopping in every electronic store I could find to ask if they had seen my camera or cell phone. I knew these would be big ticket items that they would try to get rid of quickly. I also bought a new cell phone so that I could give people my number in case something came up (I do have THE SAME phone number though, so if you are one who sometimes calls, no worries). I also cancelled my credit cards and my bank card. At the end of the evening, with no hope left to cling to, I went to the internet café to write home and distract myself. It was 9:30pm at the time, but I figured I might as well ask if he had seen anyone trying to sell anything, and I described my things… and then I found a sliver of hope to suck tight to and run with: A kid had come in the night before and tried to sell a 1Gb USB key, just like mine. The kid had come in and said that some Americans had come and left it somewhere, and he wanted to know how much he could get for it. Isaie, the internet café employee, held the key overnight to think over buying it. The next morning (a few 12 hours earlier), the kid had come back by and asked for the key back.

I got excited. I got REALLY excited. Isaie couldn’t remember the kid’s name, but he knew his face and where he lives, and so he offered to take me there after he closed. An hour later we were ready to go check it out, so I called my friend Jim who is another Volunteer, but he runs the house in Nati and therefore acts as a liaison between Admin and volunteers. I also called Amadou, because he had been such a help the day before. Also, the café employee (Isaie) mentioned that the kid works for Amadou, so I thought maybe Amadou could identify him. I was so anxious I called him and said, in French, “Amadou, there has been a development. Please come to the internet café.” Click.

Amadou showed up minutes later, and we told him about the USB key and the kid. He said, “Oh, yeah, yeah, actually, that kid came to me last night too, and it’s not YOUR key. That key belongs to a friend of mine who lost it a while ago, and we returned it to him last night.”
My response, “That may be so, but that couldn’t have been the same key, because Isaie held this key overnight. Also, this key was just like mine, and I got it in America. Also, the kid was trying to sell the key. Why would he change his mind and give it to you?”
Amadou: “No, it was the same key, the kid came to me this morning with the key and we returned it to my friend who had lost it. He even paid the kid a little money for it.”

Jim, the other volunteer, showed up at this point, so we dropped the issue and started heading to the kids house. We got there, and of course the kid ‘was traveling’. His brothers were there though, and they were claiming to know nothing about anything… in those exact words. It smelled funny, so I called the PC Benin help line to figure out what I should do. I was speaking to the PC help person in English, but I kept using the French word for police/military, gendarmes. Amadou, Isaie and the kids all heard this and started getting scared. The kids then confided in Isaie that they had originally had the sack, but that they had seen that there was a lot of very valuable things inside and that they could go to prison for it, so they had given it to Amadou. Note: You may be wondering why they didn’t take it to the police or an authority figure, but that is not what you do here. If you found something at work, you take it to your boss. That is how it goes, and that’s what they did. We decided to go to the Police (actually the same word in English and French, and a little less scary then the gendarmes) and give some statements about what was going on. Jim, Isaie and I started walking there and Amadou said he would meet us there, as he was with his motorcycle. Amadou disappeared, and the police filed our reports and told us to come back in the morning.

That night at 3am, my purse comes flying over the wall of the Peace Corps house with my wallet, identification and credit cards, my personal junk and the USB key in question. The valuables were still missing: The digital camera, the $300usd (in West African francs), the cell phone, and the Leatherman multi-tool.

The next day Jim and I meet Isaie at the police station at 9am. Amadou eventually did show up, as we had told him to. We went in to speak with the 2nd in command, and Amadou continues to change his stories. He tells about how he had returned the key to his friend that same Monday, but the Policeman didn’t buy it, and he kept calling him out on his contradictions. The policeman then told Amadou to go find the kids that were involved. Amadou leaves, and so the policeman and Isaie go to check with the man who Amadou had presumably returned a stolen key to on Monday (the day before). The man says he did get his key back and that Amadou had found it, but also that he had lost it 3 months ago… things lost 3 months ago rarely reappear. After that we sat and waited. Isaie started becoming curious, so he decided to go the kids house to see if Amadou had been there. The kids told him that Amadou had came by and picked up one of them and taken him somewhere, but they didn’t know where. Isaie came back, we waited another hour for the policeman, then Amadou shows up again without the kid, of course. We listen to Amadou tell about how he had tried to find the kids, but had had no luck. Isaie then politely mentioned what he had found. They also then told him that it seems odd that his friends stolen USB key was found 3 months after being lost, and that instead of checking with me he had just given it back to his friend. After hearing enough lies to be certifiably suspicious, they pulled Amadou and Isaie into a separate room. Isaie reported afterwards that they had spoken about how they really didn’t want to alarm or involve the US embassy, and that if they got involved this would be a much stickier situation. After this speech, they gave Amadou a list of the items still missing and told him to come back at 3pm with all the things, or else he was going to jail.

Coincidentally, Peace Corps had informed all of their top staff of the issue, and one of them, Maria - aka Maria whose brother is the head of all the Beninese police – dropped by to check on the situation, since she happened to be in the area. Because of her, the 2nd in command who had been working with us decided to introduce us to the chief. Maria complimented them on how great of a job they were doing with this situation – and they really, truly were – and then she mentioned something that made those quasi-fake courtesy smiles grow to be a mile long: “You know, I really am glad to hear you guys are helping so much with this. I mean, after all, you wouldn’t want the Embassy to get involved. They usually send a team of investigators out if something like this goes wrong, so you guys are handling this well.”

That afternoon was spent giving official, signed and sealed declarations and waiting in vain for Amadou to show up. He later sent a message to the 2nd in command saying that he needed 72 hours to find “where the kid had gotten rid of the things.”

This morning (Wednesday) I had been told to come back at 10am. I was met by Isaie again, and Amadou was apparently inside. The 2nd in command called us in to tell us the phone and camera had been found, and that Amadou was willing to pay back the $300usd (in West African francs). The only thing missing was my precious little leatherman. I told them that if Amadou could find the leatherman that I would drop the charges… but Maria had suggested holding him in prison for a night or two just to show him what the consequences could have been. “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Said the second in command, “He’ll be spending at least a week in prison. He has to stay there until everything passes to the tribunal. If they find him guilty of everything, he could spend as much as 6 months in there!” Wow. I was told to let them finish the paperwork and to come back tomorrow (Thursday) at 9am to do an obligatory ‘Confrontation’ with Amadou, and to get my things.

Twice the words ‘American Embassy’ were dropped, and they were heavier than a cannon ball both times. If I had been an African this would still have been a sad story. If I had been in America this would have had no hope of a happy ending, but there’s a good chance the restaurant would have returned the purse to begin with. If I had been a Beninese person with a problem like this in America… well, I only wish life were fair. I would like to think that I would help a foreigner if I saw him in trouble in the States, but I can’t even imagine this situation being reversed. These two worlds are so very different, it’s just impossible to compare.

It is good to be American though, and I realize that this could be a sad story if only my nationality or color of skin had been different. I was glad to be an American before, but I’ve never really realized what kind of things that meant to other nations until now.

What a week.

Sarah

P.S. Thank you Isaie at the cyber cafe in Natitingou, Peace Corps, Beninese Police, and Mom and Dad for being so diligently interested in my cheap little purse. I owe you my world… brain sold separately.