This picture is framed in my parents' house

Every time I go back for my annual pilgrimage to Motown, I enivatably see this photo. It sits in the bedroom I shared with my older brother alongside pictures of my 3 siblings, their spouses, and my parents now 9 grandchildren.

It never ceases to make me laugh. Ever.

The picture was snapped by my then future Peace Corps post-mate Becky outside Bohicon, Benin ... the town where we would spend the next two years. It was our first visit to our future home and we had just been out to the neighboring village of Lissezoun to get introduced to a future friend and all around great dude named Mathieu.

Like any good Beninese host, our meeting started and ended with shots of local moonshine know as Sodabe. Lonely Planet calls this very local beverage (the palm tree it is distilled from grows in like a hundred mile range) an alternative jet fuel for NASA. We had some local fried snacks, toured a small library Mathieu built for the local youths and downed a few shots.

Only having been in West Africa for a month or two, my stomach was not yet ready for prime time. The parasites (ghardia, amoebas) and bacteria (of various flavors) were just moving in and getting acquainted with my insides and all lubed up with grease and thrice fermented palm sap.

Needless to say, I was far from regular.

Local travel in Benin is usually via small beat up mopeds called Zemijahn's. Going outside of any decent sized town means bumps on dirt/sandy/rocky roads. I was in a line of four of these, with a current PCV (Xotchil), Becky, and our new French friend (Delphine) when I just couldn't take it anymore. We bouncing around on sketchy shocks halfway between town and this village and I made my driver pull over. I was set to eminently explode.

I hadn't been around long enough to learn to carry a role of toilet paper or better yet a 99c pack of baby wipes hand carried from Walgreens to the Dark Continent, and I had just enough time to grab some maize leaves.

I ran up a small hill looking for a semi-private place to unload.

My three female traveling companions were losing it, and asked that I pose for a quick picture. Somehow I held off the ensuing deluge long enough for this photo to be captured before retiring further down the other side of the hill for some much needed privacy and a deep cleanse.

Please don't tell my mom, I'd hate to have her take the picture down :).