Home sweet home

I rolled into Nampoch and unloaded everything around 8 pm. It had been about a 13 hour trip. My homologue (or counterpart) was not there upon my arrival but as I was moving my belongings into my house he appeared, a wild glare in his eyes. He was excited to see me and had good news. When I came to Nampoch a month ago for a week long post visit his third and from what I can tell youngest wife was very pregnant. Kodjo told me that when I returned I must bring an American name for the child. The good news he had for me was that his wife had given birth to a boy. Not only had she had the baby, she bore the child 45 mintues before I arrived!
Everyone's excitement clashed with my fatigue and I felt a bit loopy. It had been an emotional day and while I was excited to be there I wanted nothing more than to rest my weary bones. But first I had to see the baby. Kodjo's compound was full of people chattering away loudly, excited and somewhat intoxicated. Kodjo pulled me into a room where the infant lay asleep on the concrete floor. In the corner sat his wife, a thousand mile stare on her face. People jumped and shouted but she just sat there silent and drained of all she had. I was taken aback at the sight of the child. He looked very pale, almost white, wrapped up, eyes closed and lips pouty. Outside Kodjo was blasting some Konkomba music on his boombox. I love the old late 80s/early 90s boombox he has. Think Radio Raheem in Do the Right Thing or John Cusack in Say Anything. All the kids were dancing and then Kodjo popped in a cassette that a Peace Corps volunteer from 1998 had left him. It was Ace of Base and as soon as "The Sign" came on he turned to me and insisted that I show everyone how we dance in America. I was reluctant because of how beat I was but I got up there and danced a little. Afterwards I fell on a bench dead tired. I think Kodjo could tell and he understood I wanted to go to sleep.
I woke up the next morning and had one of those where am I moments. Oh yea, you're in Africa. It was Sunday and marche day in Guerin-Kouka, the bigger town 11km away. The main road was too sandy to take by bike, so Kodjo and I pedaled off into the bush. I had a few things I needed to buy at the marche. The most important was a bed frame for the mattress I purchased in Lome. I would later discover the mattress doesn't actually fit in the frame. The mattress is slightly too wide so my bed's a bit sloped but it's not too bad. Kodjo asked me to give the child an American name so I named it John after John Magee.
Djabab my neighbor is a very intelligent 14 year old who helps me practice my Konkomba while I help him with his English. I've begun fetching water for myself and carrying it on my head which is really, really difficult. I've only successfully carried the little bucket and my neck and arms ache. I'm even developing a thick knot on the top of my head.
The other morning I was cleaning my dishes after breakfast when I heard a tremendous squeal. I looked out my little window and saw Kodjo and another man carrying a huge pig. The pig was screaming and squirming in their arms. They hurried past. A little while later one of Kodjo's children showed up at my door. Kodjo's calling you he said. So I walked over to his house. There the pig lay in pieces with a group gathered around sorting out the fresh meat. Everyone was in high spirits and the blood flowed as Kodjo skillfully cut. The sight of the pig carcass didn't bother me. There wasn't even a strong odor. I was more worried about the blade missing and Kodjo losing a finger as he cut the slippery beast. Off to the side set the pigs head swarming with flies, truly Lord of the Flies. I made some joke about the pig didn't look to happy and was met with a roar of laughter from the group. I counted this as a personal success as getting jokes across in different languages is really difficult. One man asked meif we ate pork in the U.S. Oh yes I replied, lots of it. He didn't like pork. Dog was the meat for him. I was intrigued. This was not the first time I'd heard how delicious dog was. He was surprised when I told himwhen I told him I'd never tried it and that we don't eat dog in the U.S. Then he said they'd kill one Friday and I could try it.
On the brighter side of speaking about dogs. I really want one. As a pet, not as a main course. Hopefully I'll get one soon and I've repeatedly told the members of my village that my dog is not to be eaten and they seem to understand that. I love dogs and I think they make terrific companions but to the Konkomba dogs serve a different purpose. They're guards and as such they're usually ill-tempered, vicious, scavengers and they also happen to be a source of food. One thing I'm not too fond of in Nampoch is the slimy palms I embrace everytime I shake someone's hand. It's the same feeling every damn time. This happens about 30 times a day. They don't wash their hands (or brush their teeth) here and it's pretty nasty. So I always make a point of going back to my house to wash my hands before dinner. The tin of water they offer for you're left hand doesn't suffice. I need soap. I'm pretty sure this is the reason I got amoebas during post visit and that's not happening again.

Sworn-In

After training for three months in Gbatope we finally headed into Lome to swear in as volunteers. The whole experience in Lome was kind of surreal. We were only there for three days but we had a lot to accomplish. We swore in Wednesday night and it was broadcast on television and over the radio. We all gave a brief speech in our local languages. I'd never spoken in front of so many people (including the U.S. ambassador) let alone in a new language but it went well. I rocked the moustache in honor of dad's birthday and I wore the complet my host parents chose for me.
The rest of our brief time in Lome was used for buying settling-in materials. Like buckets and stoves, pots and pans, etc. Most people had the van drop them off at a stop where they'd buy something and then go, but I decided to brave the Grand Marche and headed into the chaotic belly of the beast by myself. I have a knack at figuring out directions quickly so getting my bearings straight wasn't too difficult. The hustle and bustle of the marche was intense. Just one huge mix of vibrant colors. A sea of people swarming on all sides screaming out prices while they weave their way past one another. Turn the corner and you're swept up into a swarthy mass of vendors and customers all serious and determined. The air is heavy and the sun unforgiving. It's a hell of an experience. I wasn't in the marche for long. I bought a basketball jersey (they didn't have my beloved Bobcats so I went with the Bucks), a huge metal bucket, tupperware, charcoal stove, water bin, lantern and some sheets. I brought white sheets with me to Togo from the States and that was a bad idea.
There is a supermarket called the Superamco and when you walk into it's like walking into America. Think Harris Teeter or whatever. Basically you forget you're in Africa. I had to pick up some supplies from there for post:

• mustard & bread crumbs - for preparing that delicious chicken recipe my mother always makes
  
• ziplock bags - a must
  
• a handle of Jack Daniels - for special occasions
  
• ketchup - to go with all the yams I'm going to be eating
  
• pushpins for laundry
  
• tape - I've since learned it doesn't work too well
• Tang - because it's Tang
  

All in all much was accomplished. I was also able to track down a Togolese flag (you can't find them in the marche). Buying the flag was frustrating and the guy jipped me out of two dollars from the price we agreed upon. For the first time I got angry in French and started talking over him. My French was flying and it felt good but I gave up because we had to go and walked back to the van yelling at him and calling him a thief.
Bernard who commandered us around the city in the Peace Corps van took us to buy lipicos, a sort of sewn together cot. I didn't need one but I'm glad I went along. One of the workers was wearing an old Charlotte Hornets Alonzo Mourning jersey and I lost it. I had dreamed of finding a Hornets jersey, and Alonzo, my favorite Hornet! And there it was old, dirty and soaked in sweat, but I had to have it so I bought it off the man's back. This was not easy to get accross in my French, but luckily there was a man from Ghana (where they speak English) who helped translate. The man thought it was quite bizarre but pulled off the jersey and put it in a bag and handed it to me. The lipico place is outside on the side of a busy road where hundreds of motos zip down a steep hill. While I was discussing the jersey, I heard a loud screech. I looked over and just to the side of the road a moto had slid out. There was a child on the back and he began screaming. In a flash, seemingly out of nowhere, a man ran, scooped the child up in his arms and carried him off the road. The whole accident was quite jarring as it was hard to tell what exactly was happening right in front of you but you knew it must be bad. Amazingly no one was seriously injured and after a bit the little boy was able to stand and they took off as though nothing had happened. That was some luck.
Back at the hotel we all celebrated our last night together. It was essentially three nights of celebrating. Late night a bunch of us NRM'ers gathered on the roof of the hotel and had a great time sharing stories and reflecting on the past three months together. The whole thing was over much too quickly. The next morning we said our goodbyes before departing for post and it was sad. I felt a strong bond with everyone in our group and it hurt when we parted ways. I knew some I will never see again and it felt awful after all the experiences we had together. It was a shitty morning. Pulling away from the hotel with all our stuff I was in a daze. It was actually happening. We were leaving and headed to post for 2 years. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that day.

Training Complete

Well training has come to an end and it's been a wonderful past three months. I still can't believe I'm in Africa. When I arrived back in September I was a clean shaven, pale, naive, young man who could barely speak French and ate using both hands. While I'm still young and naive, the rest has changed. I'm sporting a pretty solid stache like my pops. The sun exposure that comes from being 7 degrees north of the Equator tends to darken the skin. For me it burns then darkens. I'm still pretty naive. Remember near the beginning when I wrote about how hot it was. Yea well that was nothing compared to the heat now that it's dry season. The French has improved greatly and I can get around and converse pretty well. Now I have to work on learning Konkomba.
Integrating into another culture means recognizing and understanding taboos, one of which is using your left hand. The left hand is for wipin' yo butt, so offering someone your left hand to shake is an insult. Eating with the left hand is also not appropriate, especially for dishes that don't require utensils, like pate and fufu which you eat daily. Life without electricity is fine although it is nice to charge things once in a while. Lack of running water is no hassle at all. Not having my good friends around is definitely a bummer but hey what can you do? Write.
My taste buds are having the time of their life as I feed them food much spicier than I ever had in the States. Right now outside I can hear the call of a goat. It sounds kind of like Walter Matthau and I smile. I know the goat as well as numerous roosters will continue their call all night and three months ago it would have me cursing all night but now I can sleep soundly as the animals chatter away. The same is not true for the church in my backyard whose songs late into the night is infuriating. I remember walking out the door early one night when they were really going at it and my father was sitting at the top of the steps just shaking his head and you just had to laugh.
Yea life in Gbatope as a Peace Corps Trainee has been pretty sweet. It felt like we were at camp and sometimes like we were back in college. The other 12 trainees are awesome and we've shared some great times together. All 13 of us made it through stage which is uncommon and Thursday we will swear in together and become volunteers. It's going to be sad to part ways.

Times in Gbatope Come to an End

After returning from the field trip we only had a week and two days left of training and those days went by in a blur. I've been consuming books ever since I got here and last week I ran through Black Hawk Down. Harrowing and disturbing at times but a great read. We had Thursday off to celebrate Thanksgiving and we ate a nice big lunch. We spent a little time in the market in Tsevie and I looked for gifts for my family. I ended up buying them a live rooster which I put in a sack. He was pretty docile in the car on the drive back to Gbatope and we named him Andy. When I got home I reached in the bag and pulled him out by his legs in front of my family like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. They were both thrilled and amused. I also bought a toothbrush in the marche but it seems I failed to notice the word "hard" on the package. Mistake. When I brushed my teeth that night it felt like I was cleaning them with steel wool and my gums ached for the next three days. Later that night there was a fight in the street between a man and a thief. Everyone gathered around to watch. I felt like I was in high school only the fight wasn't over something stupid and there was no one to stop them. Eventually the thief ran away defeated. Before I left my father and I sat down and had a little heart to heart. He told me how much it meant to him that I lived with them and became a part of their family. I was grateful and thanked him repeatedly. It got emotional. The Ayite family has been so wonderful to me, I will never forget. It was hard leaving them, but I plan on returning.

Field Trip Part 3

Day 3. Awake at 6 I took a shower, packed my bag and went looking for breakfast with Luke and Mike. We didn't have to go far as we came upon a street vendor making breakfast right across from our hotel. We sat on the bench with our backs to the road while the vendor whipped up breakfast. Luke and Mike had coffee but I'm not a coffee drinker so I stuck with my bottle of water. The vendor prepared a delicious egg sandwhich and I immediately scarfed it down. We headed south to Sokode, Togo's second largest city. On the national road in the mountains between Kara and Sokode is the Faille d'Aledjo, a national symbol. The Faille d'Aledjo (fault of Aledjo) is a giant rock in the road. When constructing the road through the mountains they had to carve a path through a massive rock so the road south passes through the rock while those headed north pass around it. We stopped and snapped a couple photos. The road through the rock is so narrow I haven't the slightest clue as to how huge trucks pass through it. Sometimes you see bizarre things on the road. For instance a truck completely turned over on the side of the road all of it's contents spilled out or a goat standing wobbly trying to balance itself tied to the top of a bush taxi. Just outside of Sokode we visited a groupement of women who made shea butter. We watched the whole process which was pretty neat to see step by step. After a delicious lunch of street meat in Sokode, followed up by Fan Milk (Togo's version of ice cream), we headed east to Tchamba to tour a cashew transformation company. Cashews are probably my favorite nut so it was cool watching the process and participating a little. I asked before I took pictures of the women working. Many of them were muslims and don't want to be photographed. Lots of cashews were eaten and we returned to Sokode. Sokode is a primarily muslim city and there weren't many bars close to our hotel. So after grabbing some street food we returned to the hotel and bought some drinks to unwind. Mike bought a bottle of wine, the first I'd seen in Togo. Usually it's boxed. Most of day 4 was spent in the car as we headed back to Gbatope. We did have on brief stop in Dereboua, Luke's post, for a session on beekeeping. We were there just long enough for Mike to get stung. We were all pretty wiped by the time we got back to Gbatope. It had been a wonderful but exhausting past 4 days.

Field Trip Part Deux

Day 2 was very busy. After an egg sandwich for breakfast and French class at the hotel we drove north to Defale where we learned about terrace farming systems, fish culture, and grafting. Grafting was awesome. It's basically growing one species of tree off another species. We all got to graft a tree and it went well except Kati cut herself twice with a razor blade. After grafting we went and had lunch with a man named Ali in Baga. Ali showed us his fields, progressive composting (which I will need to learn because I'm in the north) and his reforestation project which is quite a struggle. Deforestation is a huge problem in Togo. I'm sure there are forests I just have yet to see them. The only forests I've seen so far are tiny sacred forests. At Ali's house there was a Spanish girl who worked for an NGO. It's so weird seeing other yovos (white people) that aren't with the Peace Corps. I find myself just staring at them just like the Africans stare at me. The only other white people we've come across are French, a couple of whom were quite snobby (imagine that!). After leaving Baga we continued south to Niamtougou. There we briefly stopped at CODHANI (Cooperative des Handicapes de Niamtougou) an association for the handicapped. They had a store where they sold some of what they make like beautiful pagnes and tapestries. We all bought some gifts. I had left most of my money at the hotel so I was only able to buy a couple of cards but I plan on returning. From there we were supposed to visit Sarakawa National Park but it was too expensive and not worth it. I still want to see a zebra dammit! Instead we drove to one of the most interesting things I've seen since I've been in country. On January 24, 1974 Togolese President Gnassingbe Eyadema (who served basically from independence in 1960 until his death in 2005) was flying when his plan crashed. Everyone on board the plane was killed except for Eyadema. There is now a monument at the crash site at Sarakawa. Driving up we pulled in front of a huge statue of Eyadema dressed in his military suit. The towering Eyadema is pointing a commanding finger downward, for what reason I'm not sure. Behind the statue there is a large compound surrounding a courtyard. There in the courtyard is the plane. The wreckage unmoved and splayed around in pieces just as it had crashed. What was absurd about the whole thing was that you could walk on top of and around the wreckage. This would never fly in the States, they'd have the whole thing roped off. It would be a law suit waiting to happen but it was pretty cool to walk through the wreckage. At one point a couple of us climbed through a hole into one part of the destroyed plane and were greeted with surprised bats that flew right past our faces. The whole visit to the monument seems a bit surreal now that I reflect on it. Back in Kara we ate cheeseburgers for dinner! Cheeseburgers! There are only a couple of places in the country, Kara and Lome, where you can get them. Of course they weren't very good although the fries weren't bad, but I didn't care. I was dying to have a cheeseburger. Now if only I could find a place where I can get a draft beer. I'll probably have to go to Ghana for that. Beat and sunburned I slept like a log that night.

Field Trip Part 1

Week 10 of training included a 3 1/2 day field trip. Our journey took us north and we spent the trip in the Central and Kara region of Togo. We left Gbatope at 7:00 in the morning, that was Wednesday November 18. Now that it's November, the harmattan winds have begun their four months of sweeping over the country. The harmattan winds are dry, dusty, hot winds from the mighty Sahara that descend southward. With the winds it's relatively chilly in the mornings and at night and oppressively hot during the day. Everyday the sky is caked in a haze and the hills look covered in fog. The farther north, the more powerful the winds. So I have a lot to look forward to at my post. Two weeks ago in the drive to post visit the countryside was clear and the sky blue but now it's an orangish haze. The first stop on our trip was Datcha, a tiny town just south of Atakpame. There a PCV showed us one of her current projects, an ECOSAN toilet. Basically a community latrine that conserves your waste for compost. I love the idea and I'm going to look into whether or not it might work at my post. We continued on up north to Kara where we were staying the next two nights. I was pretty familiar with Kara as I had been there during my post visit (because it's my regional capitol and closest internet - 3 hours from my post) so I was able to lead people around. We had hoped to stay at Hotel Kara where there is a swimming pool but the President had rented it out as there was a funeral for his son who just died. Kara isn't as big as many of the cities in southern Togo but there is far more infrastructure because the people are Kabye, the ethnic group of the President. There has always been a bit of a north - south rivalry between the Ewe of the south and the Kabye of the north. This has played out through Togo's political history of which I will not go into because there are sensitive matters. Interesting fact I can tell you - Togo was the first African country to experience a military coup following independence. Anyways we stayed at Hotel Concorde which was very nice - air conditioning. I've never slept on a firmer bed. I swear there was no mattress, it was just a box spring I was sleeping on. That night we ate some delicious pintards (guinea fowl) which is the best meat I've eaten in country so far. Of course I have to try dog, which my Konkomba teacher Isaac says is the very best meat. Security issues related to the President being in town kept us in that night. So a bunch of us crowded on my bed and watched Almost Famous on my computer.

Amoeba's with minds of their own

I wasn't exactly feeling 100% when I returned to Gbatope from my post visit. The bus ride from Kara, my regional capitol, to Tsevie wasn't particularly bad, I was just tired and feeling sick. My family was thrilled to see me and my little siblings began to shout and dance when they spotted me approaching in the distance. It was all very flattering. They wanted to carry my backpack so I let them although it took 5 of them to lift it.
My return was short lived as the next day I felt absolutely awful and after registering a fever of 102 I called the Peace Corps Health office and sent a car to take me down to Lome. There I spent 3 days living a life of luxury in the infirmary. There were air conditioning, hot showers, cereal, and milk that wasn't powdered. Katy, a GEE stagiere was also sick so it was nice to have her around and we watched There's Something About Mary which I love. I was feeling much better the second day but then my sickness kicked in again. I had plenty of time to read so I finished The Grapes of Wrath (powerful) and picked up some books from the Peace Corps lounge. On the Road and Getting Even, a small book of Woody Allen musings which is hilarious. I'm also eager to read The Rum Diary which Hunter S. Thompson wrote when he was my age.
My diagnosis came back the morning I left to return to Gbatope. I have Amebiasis. That's right there are tiny little Amoebas running around in my intestines. It sounds bad but it's nothing compared to when I got Giardia in Haiti. Paula gave me some pills to pop three times a day and since I started on it I haven't had anymore problems.It was great to come back to staging. I missed everyone. We're all pretty tight so they were happy to see me. The day I returned we were having a presentation where we showed our host families aspects of American life and they showed us aspects of Togolese life. It was great fun. GEE did American holidays and we did an American wedding. The wedding skit went well except I'm not sure they quite understood the whole garter thing. Which thinking about now is hilarious. After our presentation I got to rock my pagne complet during the Togolese fashion presentation which was awesome. I can't wait to walk into Harris Teeter wearing my complet and see everyones reaction.
Saturday night we had a dinner/dance party which worked out well. The food we prepared was delicious and I brought a couple pineapples for everyone and they were mighty tasty. You can eat the center here because it's soft.
One of the things we will be doing at post as Peace Corps Volunteers is leading PACA sessions with the community. PACA stands for Participatory Analysis for Community Action which is basically meeting with community members to identify needs and factors for completing projects. We did a practice PACA session in groups with some members of the Gbatope community and I think it went really well and it gave me an idea of how to go about leading a PACA session in Nampoch.

Post Visit Part Deux

It was marche day in Guering Kouka so we moto'ed there and bought necessary items for my house. Half the market is made up of Tchook stands. A word on Tchook. Tchook is an alcoholic drink made of fermented millet and some other stuff, what exactly I'm not sure but it's damn good and extremely popular in the north. I drank it 4 times my first day in Nampoch. It's interesting the way they drink here. It's an all day affair as drinking is just spaced out throughout the day. Tchook, wine, Pastis, sodabi (moonshine), beer (there is no cold beer in Nampoch :( sadness) I drank it all during my week at post visit. It's a bit of a hike to get water because most of the pumps are spoiled but they're repairing a pump near my house.
My french improved greatly during the week as I was forced to constantly use it. My Konkomba could use some work though as most of the people in my village don't speak French. They were all very nice and several were nice enough to offer me their daughters, the children sometimes kicking and screaming. As nice of an offer that is I had to decline. I met the chief (who is quite young), met the students at the school, the gendarmes, and the police, and ate lots of pate and fufu during that week. I also fell sick so I slept alot. Spending time out of the sun is necessary because the sun is absolutely oppressive in Nampoch, I got one hell of a tan. I also got dehydrated superquickly. Highlights of the week, hmmm lets see. I learned how to call pintards (in English Guinea fowl) a stupid bird, that run around foolishly intimidating chickens. I also got to kill one and then eat it and it was delicious. They wanted me to use my swiss army knife to cut it's throat but I insisted on using another knife. It struggled as I bled it but soon enough it was dead.
Another highlight would have to be the voodoo ceremony I went to in the sacred forest located next to my compound. (Cue "The End" by The Doors) You drop your shoes when you enter the forest. Kodjo and I joined a group of men sitting facing a giant tree. At the base of the tree there were three fetishes and two men dressed in robes crouched near them. They said a few words and rang a bell. Then they took a baby chick and slit it's throat. They threw it front of us and we watched it's death throes until finally went limp. Then Kodjo pointed out to me there was a lamb tied to a tree. Well I knew what that meant. After the chick quit squirming they went for the lamb. They brought it before the fetishes, said a couple words and then cut into it. First they removed some hair which they then put on one of the fetishes, then they cut it up in numerous places. They cut out the lambs throat and put that on a fetish as well. One of the men in the robes rubbed the blood of the lamb all over a fetish and then they tossed the lamb away and men began to make a fire. During all this shots of sodabi (moonshine) with sugar were offered. The men laughed when they saw my pained expression after downing a shot. I've drank some terrible tasting liquor but this takes the cake easily. I took a nap and Kodjo led me back to the forest where they had saved some of the lamb for me to eat. How thoughtful. Wraped in a leaf was lamb intestines and other parts of its inner workings. I had some of the intestines while Kodjo ate what looked like its bladder. Hey T.I.A. (This is Africa). I must say it was pretty cool witnessing the whole ceremony as well as trying new cuisines. Afterwards we went by Kodjo's place and drank more Tchook.
Kodjo has three wives and the youngest one is pregnant and he informed me that when I return in December and the baby is born I must name it, an American name. That's a lot of pressure. Most of the suggestions I've received so far aren't exactly American (Schwarzeneggar, Hasselhoff, Slobadon) so I've got some thinking to do. At night we ate fufu with sauce so spicy that I was in tears as the sound of Lil' Wayne on someones radio drifted through the night air. Weezy is everywhere.

Post Visit Part 1

Well I'm sitting in my new house where I will be living for the next two years. It's post visit and I'm spending a week in Nampoch. Saturday we all departed from Tsevie. There are four of us from stage in the same regional cluster, western Kara: Jaqui (GEE) is living in Bassar, Adam (NRM) is in Bikotiba (right outside of Bassar), Karen (GEE) is posted in Guerin-Kouka, and I (NRM) am posted in Nampoch. Guerin-Kouka is only 11km away (a short bike ride) so Karen is my closest neighbor. I think we have a great group of people in our cluster and I'm really glad they're all nearby. The four of us with our homologues left Tsevie at 7:30 Saturday morning. Well I should probably tell you about my homologue. His name is Kodjo Bolpi and at first he was relatively shy but I'm looking forward to working with him. He has three identical short razor blade cuts on his cheek, all Bassar/Konkomba men do. More on him later.
The drive was beautiful as we traversed the rough roads through Togo's hilly countryside. We made it to Bassar surprisingly fast. There we dropped Jacqui off at her grand maison, with electricity and running water. After leaving Jacqui's the rain began to pour. Karen mentioned the road hadn't been so bad and her homologue responded that from here on it was unpaved. Just out of Bassar we took a right down a muddy dirt road that led us to Bikotiba. As the road threw the car up and down, the rain worked its way through the holes in the roof and before I knew it my shirt was soaked. We dropped Adam off at his tiny maison then headed back to Bassar to take the road to Guerin-Kouka. We rambled along bump after bump, the car tilting this way then that until the back right wheel caught and there was a tremendous screeching. I wasn't sure what had happened. I'd hoped it was a flat, something easy to fix but that was not the case. Part of whatever the thing is that supports the wheel to the axel had broke. We took refuge from the rain under the overhang of a small shack on the side of the road while the driver and his assitant tried to remove the tire. Eventually the driver took a moto into Bassar to get the mechanic. The mechanic was two young boys who worked at a fervorous pace, their clothes caked in mud. While they worked Karen, my homologue and I walked into Bassar and browsed the bustling market. I began counting the number of Michael Jordan related shirts I saw and there were at least 12. There's a huge, magnificent Baobab tree in the middle of Bassar and there is a seperate market that just sells yams. I'm amazed that the young mechanics were able to fix the car as fast as they were. Because we weren't supposed to travel at night (which considering the road we were headed down was probably a good thing) Karen and I stayed the night with Jacqui. It was nice spending time with Jacqui and we got a couple beers and drank some Pastis in her spacious home.
The drive through the mud to Guerin-Kouka the next day was an adventure but finally we arrived. Karen is replacing another volunteer so she basically inherits his house which has a sick set up. He was great showing us around all week. After leaving Chez Karen it was 11 km to Nampoch. I arrived to wide eyes and silent faces. It was awkward which is understandable. I have a tiny little house with two rooms, part of a compound. My house is the only concrete building in my compound, the rest are mostly mud built with straw huts. I'm out there alright. Definitely no cell phone reception but that's what I signed up for.

Potential Pets

I’ve got quite the dilemma. Most volunteers have a pet of some sort, usually a dog or a cat and I’m pretty sure I’ll get one of my own once I’m at post. But the dilemma isn’t whether I should choose a dog or a cat; it’s whether or not I should get a monkey instead. That’s right a monkey. I have a friend here who can get me a monkey for free. But I’m just not sure whether or not I want to have one as a pet. At first the idea of owning a monkey sounds incredibly appealing. It’s an adorable animal that you can teach words and the thought of the furry little creature swinging through the trees, devouring the bananas you give him and most of all perched on your shoulder just sounds absolutely amazing. Not to knock dogs or anything but they’ve got nothing on monkeys. Then there’s the other side of owning a monkey, the part with the responsibility and hard work. First of all I don’t know the first thing about raising a monkey and I can only imagine that it’s pretty damn tough. It’s probably like raising a child, a child who throws his shit. And while the responsibility which comes with owning a monkey is great and should be enough in itself to turn someone away it’s not what will probably stop me from getting one. There are two reasons that will probably stop me. First there is absolutely no way in hell I could ever possibly part with my monkey. I definitely can’t bring him back to the States with me and it would tear me apart to leave him behind. I keep thinking about that Thora Birch movie Monkey Business I watched as a child. The other reason I don’t think I’ll get one is that I just don’t think it’s a very ethical thing to do. Plucking a monkey out of his natural habitat and taking him for my own. I’d be wonderful to my monkey but I just don’t think I’m what he needs. If I left and released him into the wild he would probably die. He’ll have to adapt and it wouldn’t work quite like those heart-warming animal movies like Andre or Free Willy (1-3). Yes owning a monkey would be pretty sweet but I think I’ll go with a dog.
Another bit of animal related news, the other night I saw the biggest spider yet. I’ve seen some pretty big ones so far but this one was bigger than my hand. We were playing cards in the hall when I saw it scurry across the floor. When I pointed it out to my host siblings I watched in amazement as two tiny barefooted children immediately ran and began grinding their heels into it. They left it dead on the floor and when I used my sandals as tongs to pick it’s carcass up and throw it out the window they all burst out laughing.

Food Talk

Well here I sit eating some pate. Pate is a traditional dish of I’m not exactly sure what. It seems like millet. Its served as a big soft white ball from which you pull apart pieces and dip them in the accompanying sauce. Members of my family eat pate daily and the first time I tried it was outside with my brothers one evening. Following their lead I dipped my fingers into the pate to pull a piece apart. What I didn’t expect was that pate is served scorchingly hot and my tender fingers couldn’t mimic their course, tough hands. Thankfully when I’m served pate now, they provide me with a fork which makes eating much less painful. The other common traditional dish is fufu which I had heard of and will have for the first time this coming Sunday. I’m kind of excited since I know it’s a common meal all over Africa. Although I don’t know of what it consists I did read that it’s nutritional value is about the same as eating a paper bag.

Went to Church

Today I went to church with my family and I must say it was definitely an experience. The Jehovah’s Witness congregation wasn’t large but they were all very excited to see me there. My father was especially glad I decided to attend and he even gave me the Watchtower program in English! I don’t know where he found one in English, his was in French but everyone else’s was in Ewe. While I’m not thinking of becoming Jehovah’s Witness, it was nice to see everyone so excited that I was going especially my brothers. I just hope I don’t get their hopes up. I’m excited about different religions and I would like to attend ceremonies of all sorts but I don’t think Jehovah’s Witness is for me and I’m worried about telling them that. My cousin who is one of the ministers and who told me after the service he was glad I came and that he had books to give me. I’ll take the books because I find the stuff interesting – hell I own a copy of Dianetics and you don’t even want me to get started on how I feel about Scientology. I just don’t want him to think I’ll join. I enjoyed the two songs we sang and I tried to sing along even though it was in Ewe. Meh, I’ll just go work in the garden on Sunday mornings and go every now and then to make them happy.

Weekends and Religion

Gbatope is a relatively small town but it’s only 6km away from Tsevie, a much larger city. This is where the GEE group has their training. Occasionally on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon the Peace Corps will give us a ride to Tsevie. There we can hang out with our GEE friends, play ultimate, and walk the dirty streets. On Mondays and Fridays the market in Tsevie is bustling. There you can peruse the venders and dicker and haggle over prices. A trip to Tsevie means internet access at the cyber café but usually we all end up at the bar with GEE. Last time we were in Tsevie a couple of us bought some street meat from a vender on the side of the road. It was the first time I’d bought food in Togo and although I’m not entirely sure what it was, it was delicious. The vender was Muslim so we figured he probably had some choice meats. One fun thing about living in Togo is that you can litter. I know that probably sounds awful but it actually makes sense. Togo doesn’t exactly have a fantastic waste management system and all the trash will be burned anyways. Sunday means no class so we’re free to do whatever. Sometimes I’ll sleep in until 7 which is nice. Sunday morning is the one time I’m alone in the house, because my whole family is at church. Church for them lasts about an hour and a half. Other churches have longer services as my buddy Luke found out after he spent 8 hours at church with his family. Shoot me. Religion in Togo is varied. According to Lonely Planet 12% follow Islam (there’s a mosque in my town) and 29% are Christian. Now it’s important to note the way these religions are practiced here are really more of a blend with traditional and local beliefs. This makes sense because the dominant religious practices in Togo are indigenous beliefs and animism at 59%. One particular indigenous belief is quite notable as it originated in Togo and neighboring Benin and has since spread to other parts of the world. The religion was originally called Vodun a word that means “the hidden” or “the mystery.” Many of the slaves who were shipped to the New World were from Togo and Benin and they took the practice of Vodun with them. In Haiti and Cuba it became known as Voodoo.Voodoo tends to draw negative connotations but it gets a bad rap and here it’s just a part of people’s daily lives. Voodoo is mainly practiced in southern Togo but I haven’t seen much of it there in Gbatope. A local farm we toured has a sacred forest next to it and there is a small fetish inside. Donny carved a face on a block of wood and we’ve made it a fetish for our garden.My family are Jehovah’s Witness which I honestly don’t know that much about because back in the States I would always turn them away whenever they knocked on my door. That’s just because I simply wasn’t interested. I’m not one to easily judge a religion (especially one I know very little about) because I’m still asking questions myself. But I do know one thing about Jehovah’s Witness and that’s that they don’t believe in the use of modern medicine (herbs and natural medicines are ok). One volunteer has a Jehovah’s Witness temple in her village and she told me about a girl who suffered complications from pregnancy and ended up bleeding to death because Jehovah’s Witness doesn’t believe in blood transfusions. The whole story was pretty disturbing. It doesn’t seem like my family is uber- religious although they do sometimes have morning prayer sessions which I’ve accidentally interrupted a couple of times. My little 10 year old brother Jacque asked me to go to church with them and I told my dad that I would one day so I suppose I will as long as it’s not 8 hours long.

A Day in the Life

Let me take you through a typical day in lovely Gbatope. I usually get up around 5:30, the last to rise in our humble abode. I wrap my panga (google it) around my waist, pick up my shower bucket and stumble outside. Immediately all eyes turn to me and one of my little brothers runs out of the kitchen (a straw hut in our backyard), grabs the bucket from my hand and fills it with water gathered from the well. I then head to my own private latrine where I shower by continually dousing myself with water from the bucket. I enjoy my bucket showers although the first pour always makes me catch my breath. It’s theonly time in the day I’m even remotely cool. Taking bucket showers makes me realize how much water I waste when I shower in the U.S. as I never use all the water in my bucket. Finished I wrap my blue and yellow pagna around my waist and head back to my room where my breakfast is usually waiting for me. I eat as much of it as possible and then I take my doxycycline. This is the most important thing I do all day. Chloroquine-resistant malaria accounts for 40% of th deaths in Togo. By the time I’m done with breakfast I’m already sweating profusely. That’s just how it is here.
I head to the Tech Center at 7 and this involves biking up the road which runs through Gbatope. The time spent on this road, going to and fro, is thrilling to say the least. The lowly cyclist I must share the narrow road with whizzing motorcycles and huge, thundering cement trucks. My fellow Peace Corps Trainees and I are somewhat celebrities in the town, at least with the children. I say this because virtually every child you pass points at you and screams “Yovo, Yovo” (“white person”, “white person”). It’s unavoidable and happens at least 10 times every trip to and from the Tech Center. If there is a group of children they sing “Yovo, Yovo, Bonsoir, Ca Va Bien, Merci” mocking our small French vocabulary – “Yovo, Yovo. Good day. I’m Fine. Thank you”. By the time I get to the Tech Center I’m drenched in sweat and wondering why the hell I took a shower in the first place.
From 7-10 it’s technical training – agroforestry, food security, and garden time. Then it’s French class until 12, when we return home for lunch. 2:30-5:30 is more tech and French. At 5:30 the sky begins to darken and I head home. Traversing the “road” in the dark is absolutely terrifying as trucks and motos squeeze by you. The best time to take a bucket shower is at night. After a long, sweaty, grimey day you want nothing more than to douse yourself in cold water. Plus there’s the view above you. To the left of my latrine is a huge African palm and to the right is a towering Baobob tree. The night sky is filled with stars and it seems almost romantic the way they are spaced between the giant branches of the palm tree when I gaze upward. The absence of light pollution here compared to Charlotte makes a remarkable difference as to what you can see. I swear it’s a different sky. On clear nights in Charlotte you can make out a few stars, here the clear night sky brings a view of the Milky Way.
After my soothing shower and heartful dinner, I either hang around with my host family and teach card games to my siblings or I go and meet up with my fellow PCTs at the local bar for a couple beers. But regardless I’m not up late. Bedtime for me here is usually around 8. I blow out my lantern (no electricity in Gbatope) and crawl under the mosquito net drapped over my bed. Sleeping here is it’s own ordeal. I’ve gotten better at sleeping than when I first arrived but it’s definitely a nightly challenge. Often there are sounds of singing and beating drums or the cacophony from the church in my backyard where it sounds like members of the congregation have screaming matches. These usually carry on late and by late I mean 9:30 but the other night there was chanting and singing which lasted from 2-3 a.m. Then there’s always the chickens and the goats that roam the town unfenced, waiting to become delicious meals. One night I came home and found my mother on a ladder chasing a chicken that had scaled a tree in an attempt to avoid her knife. I won’t lie the animal calls are pretty annoying. The first three nights I awoke to roosters calling to one another at 3 a.m. I checked my watch and each night they were nearly on the dot come 3 a.m. If the animal noises aren’t enough to make your night restless, the heat in bed is. A minor shift in position results in immediate sweating. But hey this is Africa and you get used to it.

Nampoch

Well I had written a bunch of posts but my flashdrive doesn't exactly get along with this computer so better luck tomorrow. These French keyboards are such a pain. It literally took me about 2 minutes to write all that I've written so far. That's because the "a", "w", and "m" letters are out of place, just to name a few.

Hopefully new posts detailing life in Gbatopé shall be up soon. As for what I can say now, things are still going well. We found out where our posts are and I will be spending the next 2 years in the village of Nampoch. A village of about 2,500, Nampoch is locate in the northern part of the country. If you look at this map you will see it is highlighted just north of Guerin-Kouka:
http://www.swarpa.net/~danforth/togo/graphics/togomap.gif

The settings are pretty rural as I'm 50 km away from a paved road. Having said that, most of the roads in Togo are not paved. I'm pretty psyched and fairly nervous about the natural resource management work I will be doing there. We haven't recieved detailed post descriptions yet so I don't know too much more other than a GEE volunteer will be only 9km away which is pretty sick. The local language is Komkomba so I have that to learn as well as French. Two weeks from now we head to our posts for post visit so it's about to get real. I will let you know how that goes.

I have something in common with Yao Ming

Now other than a love of basketball what could Yao Ming and I have in common. I'm not 7'6'', we don't share the same nationality - hell we don't even live in the same country anymore so what could it be? The name Yao it turns out (although it's pronounced differently). My name in Ewe is Yao. This is determined by what day of the week you were born on. A Thursday birth bears the name Yao and I kind of like it. My host father has started addressing me as Yao. I think I could get used to it.
Ewe is just one of 60 different languages spoken in Togo and is the native tongue of Gbatope, my home for the next 3 months. Though I've only been here for 2 weeks it seems like a lot longer. Days are slow in Togo. I am the newest addition to the now 9 member Ayite family. I'm pretty sure my father only has one wife although having multiple wives is quite common here. I've spent all of my life as an only child but here I have 8 siblings. That's 6 brothers and 2 sisters, ages ranging from 5 - 23. But just because I'm one of nine doesn't mean I'm not spoiled. In Togo the guest is king and so my room is the largest in the house.
I love my new family, they are all very warm and curious about this yovo (white person) who has moved in with them. I'm definitely a source of constant amusement for them as I stumble through my French trying to converse with them. The other day my attempt to gather water from the well garnered a huge laugh, not just from my host family but from the neighbors as well. I tried to carry water on my head, as is the most common method of transporting water. Needless to say I didn't make it very far before it started to spill and amidstthe burst of laughter my little brother Remus came and took the water from me grinning from ear to ear. I honestly don't know how they do it it was so heavy and practically impossible to balance. You wouldn't believe what some people can carry on their head. I've seen everything from a bundle of huge branches to a television!

Greetings from Togo

Bonsoir from Togo! This is my first post and I will try and keep it short but there's so much to say. After orientation in Philadelphia (what a fitting place to last see America) our 33 person group traveled to Togo and experienced serious jet lag after a 8 hour flight through the night to Paris, a 4 hour layover, followed by a 7 hour flight to Lomé. It was cool looking out the window of the plane and seeing the Sahara. That's when it really hit me, I'm in Africa. I was pretty nervous throughout the whole traveling ordeal but once we landed in Lomé I felt this great sense of relief and I knew that this is where I wanted to be. Going to Africa has been a lifelong dream for me and now I'm actually there.
Just a couple things to tell you about Togo so far. Lomé is an interesting city, there are only a couple of paved roads which is different just because it's the capitol and most populated city in the country. We haven't really seen much of the city so far, other than walking back and forth to the Peace Corps bureau to get shots and other training. Obviously I have a long way to go learning the language but someone said that understanding African French is easier than France French because they speak it slower. Also I'll have to learn a completely new language once I'm at my placement site wherever that may be. As far as the Togolese people go, so far everyone has been very nice and warm. The native garb are very flashy colorful shirts and pants. Eventually I'll have my own outfit although it will probably look totally ridiculous on me. Often you see women carrying huge baskets on their heads. We went to the beach the other day for about an hour and had a beer. The beach is beautiful but swimming is not advised because of the sewage and strong riptides. Also it's one of the most dangerous places in the city especially at night.
I probably should have brought a gift for my host family from Paris like a bottle of liquor as that was recommended as a good gift but I'm thinking about buying them a goat or a chicken, although goats are expensive. A lot of Peace Corps volunteers have pets so I'm considering getting a dog because I've always wanted a canine companion, but we'll see about that. I don't know that I could part with my dog after two years. Many PCV's have cats although there have been plenty recent stories about cats being eaten. One current volunteer told us that his cat disappeared and then it turned out he ended up eating it. Hopefully that wouldn't happen to me if I had a dog even though dog is a pretty common meat. I think I'll try it if I get the opportunity. I am up for trying new things be they radically different or not. Anyways things are wonderful here so far, the weather is cool in the morning when we wake up at 6, then fairly hot in the afternoon although there is a great breeze, and then moderately temperate at night.
Hmmm what else can I say. There's a lot and I'm sure I'll tell you more as things progress. We were issued our bikes and we've been cleared to ride on motorcycles as a taxi when we leave our villages which means we'll be receiving motorcycle helmets. I want to put up pictures sometime but again I don't know when that will be.
Today we leave for our 3 months training. Of the 33 of us 20 are in Girls Education and Empowerment and 13 are in Natural Resource Management. Everyone's really cool and it's been fun hanging out with them but now we will be split up for training in different villages. I will be in Gbatopé which doesn't have running water or electricity which should be an experience, they went over with us how to shower with a bucket and purify our water. I'm nervous about meeting my host family just because my French is so weak but I'll get by. It's been fun and we've been spoiled here in Lomé but now the real challenge begins.