I am back from Benin, but I think I may continue writing about what it means to be in Benin., enjoy my dear friend.

Here in Indiana, I occasionally have a day when I miss my nation (Benin) a great deal. Lately it has been the hollow pounding of tree stumps that my ears are seeking the comfort of. In Benin, Yams (not sweet potatoes, real yams) are boiled, and when somewhat soft pounded into a food called yam pillet. It is like a big doughy ball of goodness, with a flavor similar to mashed potatoes. The process of pounding the yams is the sound that I miss. The Beninese take a large piece of wood, kind of what you'd imagine as a tree trunk, and carve a large bowl, 1.5 foot plus bowl on top and a small base in left on the bottom. They then carve out a large, thick pole that is similar in structure to a cue-tip. This instrument is used to pound the boiled yam in the large bowl thing. The wood on wood makes a sound that gives one a true sense of place. While this sound was one of the things that would wake me up in the middle of the night during Ramadan, when people eat in the dark and fast when daylight comes, by the end of my service, so many aspects of living in community are associated with life around the yam pillet-ing process.

I love Benin, and miss Kalale greatly.