12/17/07 through 12/27/07

12/17/07 and 12/18/07



I am not going to write much about yesterday, just that I stayed the day in Notse and got a chance to chat with Jorge for a couple of hours before the power cut.



This morning, after making sure Ashley's house was left neat and tidy (she left yesterday for Lome to pick up three of her friends who are arriving from the States today and staying for Christmas – I will meet them on Friday), I biked to Agbatit where I spoke with the priest about the letter I am translating for him and took some pictures that we will try to include. I spoke with Mana for a few minutes and left a pagne for her to make into a wrap-around skirt. She seemed unhappy and I am not sure if it is because her uncle died (she was in Notse over the weekend for the funeral), because the priest is unhappy because she has taken too many days of leave in the short time she has been working for him, or if she is just plain unhappy in Agbatit because she doesn't have any friends or family there. Anyway, I don't like to see her subdued like that. Both she and Lili are usually energetic and cheerful and lately neither of them has been their normal self.



I biked to Avassikpe and arrived around 10:00. Mana had told me that Lili went to Lome to visit her older brother who is still in the hospital after his motorcycle accident and so I came straight home. After opening up the house, I got busy on laundry, ate lunch, showered and made three trips to the marigot with Tseviato to help her fill her family's water jars. I got to chat a bit with some young girls as we waited for more water to seep into the waterhole (it is almost dry). They asked me what I am going to prepare (food-wise) for Christmas. I told them I don't know yet. I have to figure out how this works . . . Do people go around and eat at everyone's houses? Am I supposed to prepare a whole lot of food for visitors? Everyone keeps asking me what I am going to make, so now that I am staying in village, I am thinking about it all the time and I don't know what to make. Apparently they kill a cow in the village, so maybe I can buy some meat and make either rice with peanut sauce or fufu with peanut sauce. I asked the girls what they prefer, fufu or rice. I was expecting them to say fufu because one of the girls in my Children's Rights club told me that she could eat a TON of rice and she would still need to eat a little pâte to be full, but they said that they prefer rice. Fine by me – it is less work and ever since I had a vomiting fit after eating fufu that I myself made, I lost my appetite for it.



The only other interesting part of my day was that I brought my hammock out. The kids, of course, flocked and they seemed to really like it. I tried to tell them that they couldn't touch it if their hands were dirty, but it was getting dark out so I had no way of telling if their hands were dirty or not. Thankfully, my paillote didn't fall down, but rather seems to bear the weight perfectly fine and I am afraid that lying in my hammock reading a book is going to be my new favorite pastime – provided that the kids get used to seeing it and don't flock over each and every time.



12/19/07



I had a good day, but I am in a sour mood now – probably because a drawing for my boite d'images that I spent an hour working on fell into the bucket of water that I was soaking my infected ankle in. I don't know how I got this circular cut on the top of my foot – right where the foot meets the ankle, but before I even noticed it, it was infected and is now making it a little painful to walk.



I learned a lot today, mostly thanks to Jerome, my Ewe Prof. First of all, he went with me to find the little girl (baby really) who I thought they had been trying to say couldn't walk because of a problem with one of her legs. As it turns out, it was all a big misunderstanding – a case of bad translation. The parents received us warmly, however, and I think I made some new friends even though, thankfully, they don't need our help.



Then I asked Jerome's advice about Christmas. I had already asked Efo's advice that morning (he came to village to get more food. You'd think with the 1,600 cFA he wastes on transportation – unless he walks to and from Agbatit – that it would be cheaper to buy food in Notse). Efo thought perhaps I should buy two chickens in Notse and kill them for Christmas, but I don't want to be responsible for killing or cleaning anything really. If I go with chicken, I have to deal with transporting live chickens and finding someone to kill and clean them for me. If I can go with beef – hopefully I could get a quantity of freshly slaughtered beef delivered to me. I will wait to talk to Tsevi, but if I can, I will go with beef. Efo said that beef will be more expensive than chicken, but when you consider the inconvenience (although it WOULD be more drops for my bucket to bring live chickens to Avassikpe on my bicycle) it might be worth it to dish out some extra cash. Jerome told me that I should buy at least 5,000 cFA of beef (approx. $10.00). HE explained a bit how Christmas is celebrated here (or at least in his village). There will be a church service on Christmas Eve and most everyone will stay until midnight when the people who are tired (I am sure that will include me) will go home and others will stay out the whole night. I am not sure if they spend the whole night at church or whether they go to another space. On Christmas day – the morning is spent preparing the meal. Once it is ready, you go around the village and greet everyone without missing anyone. If you really like them and get along well with them, after wishing them a "Bonne fête" – "good party" (I'm not sure that there is a more specific Merry Christmas equivalent in Ewe), you ask them what they have in their house, what they have prepared. This, Jerome assured me, is not rude at all, but rather a demonstration of your good, friendly relationship with the person. The person will tell you what she has prepared and will invite you to eat. You can either stay and eat or thank them profusely and say you will come back later (not necessarily later on Christmas day and not necessarily to eat their food, but rather that you will come again). This is, I guess, the polite way of taking your leave without eating. In turn, people may come to my house and ask what I have prepared and I should have prepared enough food to offer some to every person who comes buy. I am kind of nervous and kind of curious. My tentative menu includes beef in peanut sauce with rice, bissap juice and gingerbread cookies. I am going to try to remain open to experiencing a different way of celebrating Christmas and not compare it too much to our tradition at home (nothing can compare) or to dwell too much on what I am missing.



Over the course of my Ewe lesson, which centered on farming vocabulary, I learned a lot about planting ignams. Ignams are planted in a mound from the head of another ignam that has been preserved in a cool dry place since last year's harvest. To get these heads, you can cut the end off your ignams and save it or part way through the growing season, you can expose the tubes in the mound, cut it in a certain way, removing the ignam itself, but leaving a certain part that, if cut correctly will grow into several "heads," each of which can eventually be planted and grow into a new ignam.



Once Jerome left, I chatted with children, went to see my moringa plants (perhaps another factor in my sour mood because someone's careless brush fire claimed a couple of my trees as victims and now, with the brush barrier decimated, I am afraid the goats will get in and feast on what is left), played UNO, pumped up the soccer ball which promptly burst as soon as the kids started to play – I am not sure if we pumped it too full or if it was just its time to go, but it is officially ruined. I guess I will bring out one of the new balls after I come back from Notse and after I talk to Lili about how the kids can earn it. (I have got to stop eating pineapple – my tongue is raw! But it is so good!)



Out of all the soccer ball mess, I did discover that my bicycle pump works to pump up soccer balls which means tI won't have to depend on the mechanic even though last time he didn't charge me for the service.



The absolute highlight of my day was a five minute phone call from Jorge which was totally unexpected but much appreciated and left me feeling all warm and fuzzy.



12/20/07



I think the children of Avassikpe are all vampires. Last night at eleven o'clock they were all running around screaming and yelling as if someone had given them caffeine pills. Seriously they were running around like a pack of wolves, werewolves maybe. I can't help but wonder why their parents allow them to disturb the sleep of the whole village. Maybe they are being lenient because Christmas and "les fêtes" – "the parties" are approaching. The moon is also waxing (is that the right term? For getting fuller?) and so it is pretty light out at night. That will be nice for the fêtes.



I didn't sleep well at all last night, not only because of the screaming children, but because I couldn't find a comfortable position due to my infected ankle/foot and also because my heat rash was itching and my mind wouldn't stop churning. Don't ask me what I was thinking about – it is silly and a surprise. I was also thinking about Christmas, Christmas, Christmas).



Speaking of Christmas, today I asked Tsevi his advice on Christmas preparations and he said that Christmas is a celebration mostly for the children and so he might buy his children a new outfit, buy them candy, soda, cookies and other treats and kill and animal so they can eat meat. He said I could perhaps buy some sodas, cookies or candy and invite the children I associate with over. So now I don't know where to focus my efforts. I will definitely do something for the children, but what about real food? I don't think beef is an option any longer – Tsevi didn't seem to think that a cow would be killed for Christmas – perhaps for New Years. Maybe I will buy frozen chicken in Notse and fry it to preserve it until Tuesday. Still, I don't know how much to make or who to feed. Maybe I should just stick to baking . . . For the kids, I am thinking bissap juice, popcorn and maybe I will buy candy in Notse and divide it up into little party favor like bags. I sort of feel, though, that it would be better to buy them something good for them – oranges for example and give each child an orange. I am beginning to think their Christmas is a little like our Halloween: "Trick or treat, give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear" (or pull up your carefully nurtured moringa seedlings, or lock you in the latrine/shower from the outside, or get dirty finger prints all over your lovely white hammock or poke holes in your screen . . . =0) Now I sound Scroogish. I will think of something. Ideally I could set food out under my paillote and we could have a real party, but that would never work here because children would fight. Maybe I can give out goody bags of popcorn with candy at the bottom of the bag like they sell. Perhaps that is a good idea. Me thinks, me thinks.



Ok, I got distracted from my writing by the Christmas plans. What I am thinking right now is ditching the gingerbread cookies, except, perhaps, for myself. I will make bissap juice, a whole bunch of it, little baggies wit ha mixture of popcorn, and perhaps peanuts, and some candies at the bottom, and if Ashley and her friends are coming out her (as they might) I will have them bring 100 oranges if I can get a good deal. That mediates between healthy and junk food and it all can be made into individual little packages – I can even bag the juice if I want so it will eliminate fighting because everyone will have their little Christmas treat assortment. As for the real food, I think I will make a lot, but not a TON, and not give it to the children – rather I will have it in case people come over wanting food and, if not, I will give it to the families around.



Brush fires make the most distinct crackling sound.



As for the rest of my day, it was busy. I made four pineapple upside-down cakes, translated the priest's letter, did Ewe homework (I made a chart of the different crops and the verbs that can be used with them), soaked my infected foot, read about how a functional COGES would work (village health committee and the key word there is work; the members have to do some work for the committee to work), called the Med Unit about my infected foot, heat rash, etc., made lunch, cleaned my house, washed and boiled egg shells, burned garbage, watered my moringa trees twice, played UNO, chatted with Lili who is finally back from Lome . . .whew . . . a productive, check things off your list sort of day and I even got to spend some moments reclining in my lovely hammock under the excuse that I needed to elevate my swollen, pos-soaking foot. =0)



Tomorrow I will (hopefully) bike to Notse with stops to see Mana and the Director of the CEG (high school) in Agbatit. I say hopefully because I am not sure how my foot is going to respond to pedaling – for a while today it was pretty painful just to walk on it. Enough motrin cures all (Just kidding Amorcito! I only took two!).



12/21/07



This morning I got up and out early. My foot is looking and feeling a bit better, so I was able to bike. I stopped to see Mana and give her one of the pineapple upside-down cakes and pick up the skirt she made for me (it actually isn't for me, but for Nadia, 'cause I'm her Secret Santa for Christmas even though I'm not going to be there anymore). I then met with the Director of the high school in Agbatitoe. He wants me to form peer educators, which sounds great, only I don't know how to go about forming them. I guess I will read up on it because I sort of, kind of committed myself to meeting with the selected peer educators once a week (Wednesday afternoons). So . . . that is good I guess – it means I am going to get busy after Christmas because I will be doing a health/drawing class at the primary school in Avasskipe, peer educator formation and support at the high school in Agbatit and my Children's Rights club in Notse, not to mention causeries at the dispensaire plus baby weighing and vaccinations.



I then biked to Notse and unfortunately found there to be no electricity and so I couldn't get busy on the priest's letter, nor could I type up my own letters, nor could I use internet. Seriously, without Ashley (Ashley was still in Lome) and without electricity, Notse is useless. I showered, went and picked up some papers from Efo at his school so that I can prepare my little speech about child trafficking in Togo after our sketch on Monday and then I lay down on the couch and read a book about a boy who's parents raised him as a girl after he lost his baby penis to a circumcision accident. It is quite interesting, but frustrating at the same time, because the author is discussing whether it is biology or environment that most influences sexual identity and yet he never challenges the idea that sexual identity is easily and directly correlated to stereotypical gender roles: boys like to play with guns, are rougher, dirtier; girls like to play with dolls, cook, be neat and clean, are more docile. Whatever. I spend the whole morning reading a book, a luxury that I don't often allow myself.



When Ashley and her friends arrived (it is really nice to be able to meet them), I made spaghetti sauce and we had lunch. I wasn't particularly hungry, but there was parmesan cheese, and so of course I ate (I had eaten an egg sandwich in the late morning and it was now mid afternoon). In the afternoon we sat around and ate chocolate (that the girls brought with them) and then we went to the market to buy some ingredients for the feast Ashley (or rather, Ashley's host family) is preparing (with Ashley's funding of course) for tomorrow. Ashley bought five pintades (like quails), a whole bunch of ignams (for fufu) and the ingredients to make peanut sauce.



When we got back to the house, the electricity was back on. It was bitter-sweet though. All I really wanted to do was chat with Jorge, but when I went to the internet café at first it didn't work and then it worked for a few minutes and then it stopped working again. Then the priest called and asked what the deal with the letter was (because the plan is for him to come to Notse, OK the letter and I will help him send it from his email) and so I left the internet café and stressed myself out trying to finish the letter in time for the priest to come in from Agbatit before the internet closed at 8:00 only to have cell phone service not work when I eventually did finish and apparently internet wasn't working either. Phew. Then I watched five pintades get plucked and cleaned and chopped up into little itty bitty pieces before coming in to type emails.



12/22/07 and 12/23/07



I am feeling a little stressed lately and I am not sure why. Anxious I guess is a better description. I feel anxious about Christmas (the unknown! Ah! Scary! =0) and yesterday and today numerous smaller things have left me feeling anxious.



Yesterday Ashley was stressed out because she was helping to prepare a meal for her host family, Togolese and American friends and I think the whole thing was a bigger ordeal than she had expected or bargained for. Her stress was contagious and I, in turn, was anxious because the dinner preparations occupied the whole morning and I needed to do some Christmas shopping, meet up with the priest (which turned out to be a largely unnecessary meeting as he just glanced at what I had done and then just sat there. I was expecting him to at least take the time to read it over. The problem with always giving the best of yourself is that other people don't respond accordingly by giving the best of themselves, and the internet didn't work at all the entire day which means I wasn't able to send out emails and I always feel anxious when I can't get my emails to Jorge or contact him in any way. Especially now, right before Christmas, and I am not sure when I will have another opportunity to contact him.



The dinner was alright – fufu with pintade/peanut sauce, but this time I copied Ashley and just ate boiled ignam chunks rather than the fufu (boiled ignam chunks that have been pounded into sticky, gooey, dough balls. Ever since I vomited fufu I don't have any desire to eat it (probably a good turn of events for my waist-line). It was a little awkward – we brought the tables outside and set them up like one long banquet table – but a success overall.



After eating, Ashley and I went to talk to her taxi-driver friends about getting a car for the next day and then I biked to buy pineapples. After stuffing my saddle bags full of pineapples, I decided to bike to the market and buy one hundred oranges for the kids in my village for Christmas. I strapped them to my bicycle (100 oranges for between $4 and $5) and then stopped by a frozen foods store and bought two kilos of frozen chicken legs and thighs. I wheeled everything back to Ashley's house because I was too afraid to get on my bike wit hall the weight, the traffic/congestion and the condition of Notse's roads.



Back at the house, I met up with the priest – pretty pointless as I mentioned before because he didn't seem all that interested in what I had done, rather he placed the emphasis on what I hadn't done – typed up the French version. Apparently he only needs the English version for a few sponsors; most of the others are French speakers. Sometimes I think I should learn when only superficial effort is required – that way I don't waste time and effort for nothing. As I also stated – internet wasn't working and never did work (and I must have gone at least five intervals throughout the day), so I couldn't send out his email and will have to do it at a later date.



In the late afternoon we went back to the market and I split from the others, who were pagne shopping, to buy candy and popcorn kernels for the kids, and rice and ingredients for a sauce. I also walked all over the market in search of dried hibiscus flowers to make bissap juice, but didn't find it, leading to my decision not to make bissap juice for the general population, but perhaps just a small amount to share with special visitors. The market was crazy-busy, kind of like the Friday after Thanksgiving or the weekend before Christmas at the mall – everyone is getting ready. I met up with the girls, walked back with them and then, while they went to ADAC (Ashley's homologue's organization) and then to the bar, I went back to the house, gave internet another unsuccessful try, took a shower, and then took out some of my pent up frustration on the chicken thighs and legs. Here they cut meat up into small pieces so that it can feed more people and everyone will get a piece. Ashley's knife wasn't too sharp and so it took me a while to hack it all to pieces even with a cutting board (women here will often pull over one of the logs they will eventually use to fuel their cooking fire and use it as a cutting board). I then boiled and fired the chicken intermittently reading the book I began on Friday about a boy who underwent a clinical castration after a circumcision accident and was raised as a girl ( As Nature Made Him). I was just finishing when the girls returned.



I saved the chicken stock and I am really glad I did because today I made the best chicken noodle soup I have ever had with split peas, onions, garlic, carrots, basil, salt, cumin, hot pepper, bay leaves, and, of course, noodles. IT was fantastic – I impressed even myself.



This morning we negotiated with a driver and would have all been in Avassikpe by around 8:45 except I left my keys in Ashley's door (I have a copy of her house keys on the same string) and we had to return to Notste after having made it half-way to Avassikpe. Ashley wanted her friends to see my village, but it really served my interests because I could never have biked back to village with 100 oranges plus all the other things I bought (including 6 kilos of sugar because I thought I was going to make a whole ton of bissap juice – no worries – I will use it eventually).



We walked around my village a bit and then they left. I felt a bit abandoned after they left, but I got busy on my chicken noodle soup and it turned out to be a pleasant day.



In the afternoon I played UNO, lay in my hammock, observed a dance party that took place under my hammock (the children brought over a boom box and started dancing), read my book and largely just hung out with children. It was fun.



The children in the village have made these little shady areas where apparently they will eat and hang out on Christmas. I am glad Christmas is a children's celebration because I am always welcome and more at ease with the children.



I can't believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve! It doesn't feel like it. Tomorrow will be a busy day – I am a little anxious because I don't know what is going on with the Child trafficking sketch. We need to alert the chief and somehow get people to come watch, but Efo didn't come back to village today like he said he would, so none of that got done. I guess I shouldn't have waited for him to do it, but I kept expecting him to arrive. I have a strange premonition that the skit might not take place tomorrow and then my primary reason to have stayed in village will be null and void. But still, I think it will be good to experience Christmas in village.



12/24/07 through 12/26/07



The past three days have been a roller coaster of emotions. Christmas Eve morning was relatively calm – I read about forming Peer Educators and made bissap juice. I was a little anxious about what would happen with our sketch because Efo never came back to village last night and we never gongonned to notify everyone of our planned presentation and we never spoke with the chief. Efo arrived mid-morning and after unsuccessfully seeking Tsevi out for advice, we decided to walk around the whole village and inform people in person. It wasn't worth it if you consider how many people showed up, but it was a good opportunity to walk around the whole entire village (which I had never done before because I never had a purpose). Obviously I would like to wander around the whole village an d just get to know people, but when you don't speak the language and you don't have an express purpose for wandering into people's housing clusters, it feels a little awkward. It took us about two hours to inform everyone in the village who was at home. Not only was it a great opportunity for me to see the village, but for the village to see me – an informal introduction of sorts for the people who live in the other neighborhood and don't really know me. It was around noon when we informed Lili and the chief of our plans. It wasn't that we meant to inform them last, they just ended up last on our route. Lili was, of course, supportive of whatever we wanted to do and the chief too for that matter. It was a little strange because the chief was sick – his skin was peeling and flaking all over – and he had shut himself in a little enclosure that is outside his house. Shut himself meaning put a piece of corrugated metal sheeting propped up with wood over the entrance. Strange. It was like he was quarantining himself for cleansing purposes or I don't know what. When we finally finished announcing our sketch, I went home, drank some water, did a couple other little things that I guess were insignificant enough to be forgotten, and played UNO with the children. I hadn't prepared or thought of preparing anything for lunch and so I just didn't eat (I had eaten a loaf of bread with peanut butter and honey on it for breakfast). BTW, does anyone want to tell me how worried I should be about consuming honey that I bought off the street? People have been telling me that if honey isn't pasteurized properly it can harbor a bacteria that sounds something like Botticelli and does nasty things to your body.



We had told everyone that the sketch would be at 3:00 in the afternoon. One of the actors showed up around 3:00. Efo was sleeping. We woke him up. Some others didn't show up until 4:00, 5:00, 7:00 . . . We considered rescheduling the sketch, but I was worried about all the people we had informed (I don't know why I was worried – they didn't come anyway). When we had enough actors to try to pull off a semblance of a sketch, we meandered over to the dispensaire and started to think about what props we might need. We substituted random people for the missing actors and actresses (when we finally started we were missing only three actors out of eleven – not too bad considering at 3:00 we were missing nine of eleven). The sketch started right on time (two hours after schedule) with a sparse circle of spectators that gradually filled out. How much the audience grasped our underlying message is questionable, but they did seem to enjoy the spectacle. The students are natural actors and actresses – they only rehearsed once, and for some this was a first run-through, but the sketch seemed well put-together and ran smoothly from one scene to another. Yawovi is a particularly good actor – he just had to walk out form behind the makeshift curtain we set up using the posts and sheets from my vaccination-day pavilion and the crowd would crack up. It went really well considering the 3:00 forecast, but I felt a bit like a vestigal organ. I had prepared a little speech at the end, but it was getting dark and people were getting restless – ok, so to put it bluntly – no one was listening and I felt a bit badly afterward, useless really. I think next time I will just ask Efo to wrap it up and I will just be team photographer. I am good at that.



I was starving when it all finished and I ran home, ate a whole pineapple and boiled more hibiscus flowers to make bissap juice. One of the key actresses – the child trafficker herself – chose that moment to arrive and say "hey, how ya do'in?" I'm being unfair – she is really sweet and had some reason I didn't fully understand for being late. One of the chief's daughters played her part in the skit and from what I could tell did an ok job except for uncontrollable bursts of laughter here and there.



I bathed, got ready for church and then lay down in my bed to rest until Efo came to get me around 10:00. The service had started an hour earlier – I could hear the singing from my room – but I figured I might as well rest while I had the chance. I went and sat on the women's side next to one of the actresses. I really like working with the high school students because it is another venue through which I get to know the village as a whole and piece together relationships between people. The church service was mostly prolonged (non-stop for over and hour at a time) singing and dancing. Everyone just sings (hymns in Ewe, mostly, and some in French), claps and dances in place and then sections of the congregation dance up to the frond, dance around in a circle and then dance back to their seats. I am too timid to go up to the front, so I just stayed firmly planted in my spot clapping to the music and wishing I could understand the works and know the songs so that I too could express my joy in celebration of Christmas. The sermon was short and for some reason only in Kabiye and Ewe, so sadly I didn't understand. Afterwards, we sang and danced some more (we meaning the other people in attendance – I clapped along) and then the strangest thing happened – they turned on a tiny little television set (by the way, the service was taking place outside, under the light of a brilliantly full moon and unnecessary artificial generator-powered light bulbs strung to posts) and started a movie about how Jesus chases away sorcerers and protects people from soul-stealing and other sorts of black magic. The film was extremely crude and not at all what you would expect to be shown to a mixed audience (if I were a child I might have gotten nightmares) on Christmas Eve. The move was in English, but I couldn't understand it because the sound system was crackling and the pastor was bellowing Ewe explanations out over top. My guess is that the film was made in Ghana, but who knows. The head sorcerer was portrayed as a man with a white mask over his face (funny who evil in this case is dressed in white whereas in our scenarios whit is usually associated with good and black with evil . . . it makes you want to probe deeper into our mental paradigms) and a while cloack. He steals the souls of children and hurts people by having them drink strange concoctions and eat tainted foods. He possesses people and makes them hurt others and torments people in their sleep. I didn't understand it all, but there was a woman sorcerer who caused problems between her grown son and his wife and another sorcerer who made someone go blind. Really it was very very strange. It was funny to observe the audience and listen to them gasp in horror at certain parts and to listen to the unquestioning explanations given to me by the teenage girl sitting next to me. There was a brief pause as they put in the second hour-long tape and I took advantage of it to run home and change into pants and a sweatshirt (because it was really cold. seriously) and to stuff a couple handfuls of peanuts in my mouth (because I was really hungry and didn't know how much longer the insanity would continue. just kidding). I went back, but kept falling asleep in my seat during the second half of the film. IT finished around 3:30 in the morning and everyone went home.



From midnight onward, music had been blaring from speakers in another part of the village where I assume people (mostly children) were dancing. Called a "balle" (a name that elicits a smile from my lips because of the incongruity of this event with my mental image of a ball), I think it is pretty much a replica of the funeral fête and the fête celebrating the birth of a baby with lights strung up and pounding music. One of these days I might venture out and see what it is all about (it appears that my dreams might be punctuated by the throbbing beat every night until after New Years), but for now I am still recuperating. You will understand more fully my choice of words after I write about Christmas Day.



After only three hours of sleep, I woke up and started my preparations. I realized that I didn't have any oil to make popcorn and so I went to buy some. At my return, the carpenter's apprentices were delivering my shelf. My mind was on my Christmas preparations, not the shelf and so I barely glance at it, paid the rest of the money and continued with my preparations leaving the shelf outside. I tried to pop a huge amount of popcorn at a time in my biggest dutch oven pot, but it didn't work at all and in the middle of the failed attempt, Tsevi stopped by. We went out to look at the shelf together and I realized that it wasn't at all what I had asked for – they didn't follow the plan in any way, shape or form. The selves start low and so there is no way that my stove and tables will fit underneath which was the whole point – to create a kitchenette area in my very small house. I was really upset – upset because they chose Christmas Day to make me deal with this, upset because I have really been looking forward to having the shelves and being able to organize myself a little bit, upset because we had talked and bargained so long and hard about it and they still didn't get it right and most of all I was upset that I hadn't made sure it was what I wanted BEFORE I paid fore it. Stupid. Tsevi offered to go talk to the carpenter with me and I asked if we could go right away. We took the bikes because Tsevi thought they might be at home à cause de la fête, but they were at the workshop. I felt badly because they were working (and on benches that might be for me though they don't know it) on a day when everyone else was already partying albeit the fact that it was only 7:30 in the morning. Tsevi spoke with him and he said I would have to pay more and I realized that I too had done the math incorrectly. My design requires three, not two 5 meter planks, each at a cost of 2,500 cFA. I felt I was partly at fault for having thought and agreed that two planks would be enough. It was a bad start to the day, not only because of the disappointment and hassle, but because I was sad to have put a blemish on someone else's day as well. I feel as though the carpenter is really tired of me and I don't want it to be that way, but I don't want to be cheated either . . .



I got back to my house and downgraded on my overly ambitious popcorn popping attempt. I started to pop in a smaller, more insulated pot and started to put candies in bags. For some reason Patrovi – one of the little boys who is always hanging around my house – thought that when I told him to leave me to my preparations, I had told him to cal his sister – Hevihevi – one of the students/actors in my Children's Rights club. She came over and though I hadn't asked for her help, I was really happy and lucky to have it. She apparently sells popcorn in Notse and so she knew exactly what to do and she sort of took control of the reins. She told me only to put two candies in each bag. We popped popcorn, salted, bagged, and tied them off. We worked all morning non-stop. I didn't even take a minute to eat a real breakfast, I just ate chocolate, cookies (a Christmas/New Years gift from Yawovi) and popcorn. The children were constantly at the door and so I learned how to say "go and come back later" in Ewe – of course they would go and come back five minutes later and tell me that they were back =0). I was happy for Hevihevi's (birdbird is the direct translation of her name, a nickname, I think) company and help. We turned on the radio and worked well together – she knew exactly how much oil and popcorn kernels to put in each batch and if it hadn't been for her I probably would have ruined more batches. She really took charge and I was sort of auxiliary, which was fine because I wanted things to go smoothly. Mid-morning, she was called home by her Dad's wife, Patrovi's mom (her own mom died at her birth or shortly thereafter) to help pound fufu. I continued working – popping popcorn, filling bags, mixing sugar into the bissap juice, trying to fill little bags with juice, etc. Hevihevi came back an hour and a half or so later and we bagged the bissap juice. I can't express how helpful she was or how thankful I am that she came to help me. She is such a willing helper – she says that she likes to work as much or more than I do – but, unlike me, she actually knows how to tie off a bag of juice so that it is firm and not all limp and floppy. We chatted as we worked and she said that she would like to be some sort of business woman and sell things. When we finally finished with the juice (I would fill each bag and she would tie them off and rinse them in a bucket of water) we popped several more pots of popcorn and finished filling the bags. We ended up with 200 small bags of popcorn, over 100 bags of juice and 100 oranges. I thought we could give oranges and juice to the children under 2 years of age and popcorn and juice (and when the juice ran out, popcorn and an orange) to the older children. I don't know why it seemed important to me not to give small children popcorn, but it didn't occur to me that giving them juice in a plastic back might not be such a hot idea either. Luckily, I haven't heard of any babies aspirating pieces of plastic bag. We finally had everything ready around 1:00 in the afternoon. We called Efo over to help distribute and had the children run off to round up the other children. We thought that if we could get all the children together at one time, we could minimize the problem of children taking some and coming back for more. Next time I should think of something like drawing an x on them with permanent marker =0). At first, it seemed as though it would go more smoothly than I could even have hoped for. Efo had them lined up in lines according to size and they were all standing being unbelievably orderly. We started to hand out oranges and juice to the smallest children. The older ones were assured that there was plenty for everyone and they were patiently waiting their turn. Unfortunately, though, the arrival of adults and young men and women and the late arrival of more children, upset the order. I was particularly frustrated by the presence of adults who were placing themselves in front of the children and demanding juice and popcorn. In situations like those, it is infuriating not to have the language ability to express yourself. At the same time, perhaps it is better that I couldn't say exactly what was on my mind because I might have ended up insulting someone in my anger and frustration. If I had children and someone did something nice for my child, it would be as if they had done something nice for me and I would say thank you. I wouldn't demand some for myself as well. I told the adults to go home, but they wouldn't and their presence completely upset the organization we had strived to achieve. The whole situation descintegrated into mayhem with Hevihevi and I retreating inside with the "goods" and Efo outside brandishing a stick to ward people off. I was tired, upset and frustrated and strongly chastising myself for thinking that I could pull off a stunt like this in an orderly and peaceful fashion and for creating a situation in which children, the focus of my Christmas day efforts, were at risk of getting beaten with a stick. We ventured out again, but I eventually retreated to my room in cowardly avoidance of the whole ordeal. Luckily Efo and Hevihevi were there to sort it out and they didn't seem to be too ruffled. I sat on the floor of my room hugging my knees and trying to control the tears of frustration and disappointment that were threatening to spill over. Then Jorge's mom called and got the brunt of the first wave of emotion. She understood immediately and said that it is hard for us to understand what it is like to have so little and that I should think about what I did for the children and not about what I wasn't able to do for everyone else. I was sorry I wasn't in a cheerful Christmas-y mood and sorrier still that I couldn't speak Spanish fluently, but touched by her phone call. As I talked, Efo and Hevihevi finished handing out popcorn, juice and oranges. I thanked them and they took their leave just in time for me to receive a phone call from my parents who got the tsunami wave of emotion and a total breakdown which was both necessary for me and unfortunate because I didn't want to leave them with the impression that I was unbearably sad and distraught on Christmas – they just caught me in the moment and were the first and only people who could relate fully to my feelings. It was wonderful to talk with Dad, Mom, Mimi (my grandmother) and Jason (my brother). I hadn't spoken to either Mimi or Jason since leaving for Togo and so it was particularly special to hear their voices. Mimi is planning to come to Togo with my parents in April and Jason, who is graduating from two years of culinary arts school in May informed me that he might be interested in going on to study nutrition. It is the first time I hear him voice that goal, but I think it would be great. I suggested sports nutrition – he said he wasn't sure what specialization, but he can always start on basic nutrition courses and go from there. It was such a treat to speak with my family. All morning, in the back of my mind, I had been worrying that they wouldn't be able to call because I had no cell service and so it was a relief that they got through.



After our conversations I felt better – more composed and in control of my emotions and able to get on with my plan for the day (my parents and grandmother helped me step back and gain a little perspective on the situation by reminding me that children don't have the same value and position in society here as they do in our culture. Dad said that people perceive that we have so much to give next to the little that they have and that once, when they were living in Tanzania, he and Mom decided to try giving people everything they asked for for a day, just to see what would happen. The experiment didn't withstand the day, though, because Mom and Dad realized that the people would leave them standing naked in their empty house if they fulfilled every request). And so, with that hug of support, I continued with my day. I started to prepare rice and sauce for more people than I have ever prepared for in my life. I made twelve cups of rice and very nearly overflowed the pot, and I crushed onions, garlic, anise, pepper and hot red peppers on my rock for the first time, causing my hands to ache from the effort and burn from the piment and making and awful mess. Normally one would use the crusting stone outside, but I have not yet acquired something to rest it on and so I put it on one of my little wooden benches – now stained wit hall sorts of juices (next time I will take the whole think outside to at least spare my floor). All in all, the real food preparation was much easier and less labor intensive than the preparation of the popcorn and juice for the children had been. When I finished, satisfied with the results because my sauce was palatable and my rice didn't overflow even if it was sticky, I showered, put on my nice Christmas outfit and brought some rice, sauce and meat to Efo's older brother's wife who had brought me three pieces of chicken earlier in the day. I also took containers from the other two women – DaJulie and Tseviato's mom – Efo's other older brother's wife – and filled them with rice and sauce and a couple pieces of chicken. Then I walked around and greeted everyone in this part of the village who was at home. I wished them a good party, a good year and good health in Ewe and my mood was really boosted (even though I had been a bit reluctant to venture out) because everyone I spoke with thanked me for what I had done earlier in the day for the children. Everyone – even the old people, even people I don't really know, even the adults I had told to go home. No one seemed at al disgruntled at not having received something – everyone was purely thankful. It wasn't that I was looking for thanks, but rather reassurance that my well-intentioned efforts had done more good than harm. I also got many compliments on my outfit. In a strange incident a woman tried to grab my breasts causing me to step back in alarm and nearly trample one of the many small children who were following me. At least it was a woman, but it was still awkward. I don't know what possesses them to do that or why it is ok here. I invited people to come to my house to eat the rice and sauce I had prepared and I collected dishes from others to fill with rice and sauce. I was worried that people would say that they would come, but that they didn't really mean it and that I would be left with TONS of food. I also went, with a pack of about ten small children in tow, to see Lili, but it seemed she was sleeping and as she is still not completely over her bout with malaria and she delivered a baby Christmas Eve, I thought it better not to disturb her.



I went back home. As I was collecting dishes to hand out food, Hevihevi explained that the women were planning to come visit me at home and that I could offer them food then. Only a few people came to my house to eat (asides from children whom I refused to feed because I had made the popcorn etc. for them earlier in the day). Between visitors, I sat and chatted with Efo, his mom and his older sister Julie and meanwhile the children played on my hammock which I had stupidly left outside, under my paillote and of course they got it dirty. I was upset about it for a while and then I decided that I just have to let go of the idea of having a pristine white and purple hammock. I have had the hammock for five years and I have never enjoyed it as much as I am here, so I might as well just accept that it is going to get dirty and worn and that I will probably give it away before I leave and get myself another one on a trip to Bolivia. So that is that and I am not going to stress about it any more. True to their word, six women came over to eat the food I had prepared. It was sweet of them to come. They got all dressed up and came over and they seemed to enjoy what I had made. You know you have done a good job when women like your food because they are the ones who know how to prepare. Hevihevi (whom I had give an bowl full of her own) told me that the rice lacked a little bit of salt and that I shouldn't have washed it until right before I was ready to cook it so that it wouldn't be so sticky and that the sauce could use a bit more piment, but that otherwise it was good. By the end of the evening I had a stomach ache and couldn't figure out why because I had hardly eaten anything all day – I didn't even eat one piece of the chicken I had so lovingly boiled and fried to preserve. I don't really know why I didn't save myself some of the choice pieces even if I didn't feel like eating them at that particular moment. At the end of the day, when I finally shut my door and got ready for bed, I had just enough food left to bring Lili a sizeable amount the next day. I was exhausted. Except for the minutes I spent chatting with Efo and his mother and sister and the moments I spent on the phone, I hadn't sat down all day or stopped preparing food. I slept like a baby even though the music from the "balle" was booming all night long.



Apparently the day after Christmas is a party day as well. According to Tsevi who stopped by in the morning to thank me for the day before, as is the custom, on the day after Christmas they clean up the plates, meaning they eat leftovers and continue making merry with as much alcohol as the wallet will allow for. Throughout the day, when people asked me what I had prepared, I honestly responded "nothing." I told them that I was tired and that I wasn't going to cook and I didn't. I ate fufu twice – once with Efo's sister in law and once with his sister and other than that I ate an awful lot of pineapple and chocolate – a fabulous combination =0). In the morning, when I went out to greet the families who live around me, I strapped Bubbles, my teddy bear, on my back as if she were a baby. I had been thinking about doing that for a while now, because I thought it would make people laugh, and it did. It was also good for expanding my vocabulary because DaJulie (Efo's older sister) played along and asked me if it was a boy or a girl and what its name was. As I greeted his mother, I noticed that Parfait (Tseviato's baby brother) wasn't looking great. I asked if he was sick and his mom said that he has diarrhea. I took advantage of the opportunity to teach them about the oral rehydration solution. I made it up for them this time and had Efo explain it to them. I hope next time they can make it up themselves. Even if you teach one person at a time that is something . . . I should have mixed it in front of them. I will do that next time, for the next baby whose mother tells me that he or she has diarrhea.



I spent the entire morning cleaning my house – a very necessary task because it was filthy what with all the preparations from the day before. I had dirtied almost every dish in the house and didn't have Jorge to clean up after me =0). It literally took me all morning to get the house back to its normal, not particularly clean, but livable state. It is harmattan now and everything is constantly covered with a thin layer of dust. Maybe at the beginning of rainy season, maybe right before my parents' and grandmother's visit, I will try washing my floors. For now, though, I feel that it would be pointless. The early afternoon I spent sitting with Efo and his family, eating fufu with a sauce that made my brain burn it was so spice. They also forced me to eat a piece of meat and tried to force me to eat a second, but I refused. It was chicken and it isn't that I don't like the meat, I do, it is that I don't enjoy it as much as they do. I would prefer to pick off the skin and just eat the meat, but I know they would suck the bone dry and then crack it open and suck out the marrow to boot. I forced myself not to examine what I was eating and to just suck it all off and ignore the slimy texture of the skin. I pretended I was eating a chicken wing (which I literally was) and reminded myself that I don't pick the skin off those usually, and I ignored the veins and little bits of fat around the joints. I ate it all, but I couldn't crack open the bone and suck out the marrow. I don't even know how to do that. The second time I ate fufu they tried to force me to eat more meat, and when I refused, the offered me an even nicer piece of meat (perhaps thinking that I wasn't pleased with the first one) I refused again and told them I had already eaten meat that day (which I had thanks to them). Finally they let it go.



Efo and I had an interesting conversation while everyone dozed on mats around us. I asked him when and why he had started going to church and he said that while he was attending middle school (I guess) in Atakpame he often fell sick and ended up having to take a year off from his studies. He said that at the time, the different parts of his family were in disagreement and that some people in his family were trying to harm his father, but because his father is strong and he is weak, the sickness fell on him instead. He said that he would see spirits at night and that they would disturb his sleep. What he wanted more than anything was to finish his studies and realizing that the grigri (traditional religion, protective talismans and things) weren't helping him, he turned to Christianity. He says that all the grigri is just a waste of money and doesn't help you anyway, but that doesn't mean that he has stopped believing in all aspects of the traditional belief system. He still thinks that people can harm others through manipulation of spirits, but that they won't harm him because Jesus will protect him. He explained that owls are the birds that sorcerers possess or that spirits possess to do harm to others and that once an owl came into his older brother's room to do him harm, but his brother killed the owl. He said that the pastor of the Assembly of God church had a dream or a vision or something foretelling the event and that there were two owls that had come to harm his brother that night. That the one owl told the other not to go into the room, but that the other insisted that he was strong enough to go in. When he did, however, he found himself trapped and Efo's brother killed him. Now the second owl just stays in the trees in the distance and screams at night. Efo explained that a sorcerer starts out with nine owls and like with a cat's nine lives, once all nine owls have been killed, the sorcerer will die. He also told me that his older brother's baby, the baby that died suddenly, without warning, when I first arrived in Avassikpe, had been killed by sorcery. He said that normally a seemingly healthy baby shouldn't die like that and that, because of the baby's death, even his father was thinking about converting to Christianity. Efo said that since he himself "found Jesus" things have been going well. I feigned worry and asked if evil spirits could attack me and he said no, that because I am a foreigner they have no power against me. He said that even the Kabiye (a different ethnic group) sorcerers can't do him harm unless someone from his family goes to them and asks them to harm him. Therefore, unless someone from my family or, I guess another American, were to seek out a sorcerer's help in harming me, they can't hurt me. Good to know.



I spent the rest of the afternoon lying in my dirty hammock reading a book and in the evening I ate oatmeal, wrote letters and went to bed.



By the way, everyone I met was constantly thanking me for the day before which was a nice recognition of my efforts and Efo told me that the whole village was talking about what I had done and that it was really a nice gesture on my part, so that made me feel even just a little bit better about the whole thing.



I also got a lovely but brief phone call from Jorge who is spending Christmas with one of his friend's families in Uruguay. It was wonderful to hear his voice, but I selfishly wished I could have spoken to him for longer than a minute or two.



12/27/07



Today I woke up and decided that I would get my hair braided. To make a long story short, it was a huge disaster because I wanted it braided in a certain way (you know me . . .) and the women who came to my house to do my hair seemed to understand what I described. They went about their business which first of all hurt and second of all was audibly tearing my hear out (I don't think they know how to deal with real hair – they are so used to only fake hair – or my kind of hair). I was cringing, but I wanted it done and so I tried to trust that they knew what they were doing. When, oh when am I going to stop believing that people know what they are doing? Mana ruins my clothes, the carpenter ruins my shelves, the hairdressers ruin my hair and they probably would have ruined my paillote had I not sat there and watched the whole thing go up. I don't mean to say that they can't get anything right, but I do think that there is either a enormous disconnect on the communication side or they just don't know how to follow or respect the customer's wishes. They also have a problem expressing that they don't understand something and just plow ahead as if they were 100% sure of what you wanted. You'd think they would realize that it is better to ask questions and get it straight before wasting time and energy. Anyway, they were half way finished when I realized that it wasn't what I wanted at all and so I asked them to take it out. They weren't very happy with me, but I paid them anyway. I was again frustrated, sad and disappointed. Those seem to be feelings that are recurring lately. I showered and lathered my hair with conditioner in an attempt to untangle it – even so, I lost copious amounts of hair. So much for that endeavor. Note to self: Don't think, even for a second, that it would be fun to get your hair braided.



I wasn't planning to leave village until tomorrow, but I felt like I needed to get away for a bit and so, as I made lunch, I prepared myself to bike to Notse in the late afternoon. After eating, I played UNO with the children for a bit and then went to speak with the carpenter. He wasn't there, but the apprentices were supposed to pick up the shelves (still sitting outside my front door where they left them Christmas morning) yesterday and didn't and I didn't want them left outside while I am in Notse. I think I made a big mistake in not making sure I was happy with the end result before paying because the carpenter now has little incentive to redo the shelf to my liking. I can tell that I am going to have to get on his case which is unfortunate because he doesn't seem to like me very much to begin with. I can't decide whether to feel like I am taking advantage of him – the carpenter – (sometimes he just looks so beaten down) or he is taking advantage of me (because when Tsevi told someone that I am paying 8,000 (now 10,000 cFA) for the shelves, the guy exclaimed "8,000!" as if it were an exorbitant amount). While in Notse I plan to ask the carpenter Ashley uses how much a five meter plank of white wood costs, just to see if my carpenter is totally cheating me or not. I also plan not to pay for the benches he is making me until he finishes with my shelves. The only kink in that plan is that he doesn't know the benches are for me and might hate me even more if he finds out. I am glad to know that grigri won't work against me because I am a foreigner; otherwise I might worry that the carpenter would hire a sorcerer to harm me.



I went to visit Lili and then closed up my house and biked into Notse. I enjoyed the ride. I felt like I needed the exercise and the very tangible feeling of getting away, escaping. I thought I would be sad to be in Ashley's house alone, and it is obviously not as nice as when she is here, but it is still a safe haven, a free space. The electricity is working for now – I hope it continues to work tomorrow because I am getting really tired, but I haven't yet typed up my emails or gone to the internet. I am hoping to type up my emails tomorrow morning, go to the internet and then bike back to Avassikpe tomorrow afternoon.



I am trying to figure out what to do for New Years because I don't want to spend it in village – too exhausting and too expensive, but I can't go far because the students want to do their skit in Chalimpota (Avassikpevi) on New Years Eve. If I can, I will try to get them to do it on Sunday or without me (I really am not essential to the skit, but I do feel as though my presence is a bit of a catalyst and that, if I weren't going to be there, the skit would not take place for one reason or another. Maybe I shouldn't be there just to test the theory and see if they do it without me. It would be great if they did.