How Rihanna made me realize I was really living in Benin

It’s early for the US, but late for Benin. My calves hurt from dancing the past hour, and I am daydreaming about the bucket shower that awaits me when I get home. 

A fellow volunteer is talking to the DJ, trying to communicate a request for Beyonce over loud music and non-native languages. Across from me is another; his arms are flailing around to the opening thumps of a Rihanna song.

When I hear a specific song, especially one that I am familiar with, I can normally tie to a specific time and place in my life where that song had some meaning, whether it be dramatic or small. “True Colors”: a retreat I went on my senior year of high school. “Let it Rock”: sophomore year, dorm room, trying to write a paper for sociology. “In One Ear”: New Orleans, spring break 2012.

I have been waiting for when a song will forever be linked to the memory of a specific moment during my service.

I don’t realize that I’ve found my first until my iTunes selects the same Rihanna song a week and a half later when I’m back at my house in my village.

“We Found Love”: Parakou dance floor, December 2012.