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.