4-8-08 through 4-12-08
I know, I know, bad Danielle, but really, I have been extraordinarily busy, cramming all sorts of meetings and business in before my parents get here and I am temporarily somewhat out of service.
The only remarkable thing about Tuesday was that Etienne (my older brother) called me (on his birthday!) and we talked, graced with a really good connection, for almost an hour. It was so nice to hear from him and about him; it was really a super special treat AND I got to personally wish him a happy birthday which might not have been possible otherwise considering that internet has simply not been working lately. On Tuesday we got the four necessary people together (a feat in and of itself) and just started up the connection when the power cut. That is the problem lately, the power cuts so frequently that the internet cafes are losing money because they pay the same amount for the internet connection even if no one comes to use the internet because there is no power.
On Wednesday, Ashley left early in the morning for Atakpame and I went to the market, shopped around a bit, and then talked with Effoh about my Plan B for my moringa seedlings. Plan B all hinged on Thursday: if no one showed up to work the field after I had gone to speak with individual family units and they had all agreed that the project is a good one and promised to participate, then I know that they aren’t really interested and that the project isn’t going to fly as a community endeavor. Also, I had a meeting with Avassikpe’s elders on Wednesday evening and another potential meeting to start a dialogue between Avassikpe and Midijicope’s elders planned for Thursday. Again, if I sensed that they were not at all willing to work on the existing divisions in the community (between Avassikpe and Midicope and between the “authoctones” and “newcomers”) and the past bouffing problem, then I would know that they aren’t ready to even try embarking on a community project. Plan B is that I would give a seedling to each of the people who had participated in the project and then I would ask Tsevi how many trees he is interested in planting for himself (because he is the person aside from myself who has devoted the most time and energy to the project) and then I would give the rest of the seedlings to Effoh to start a personal business. I would give the trees to Effoh because I could work easily with him, because I like and trust him, and because he is a young person who will otherwise leave the village due to lack of opportunity and contribute to the rural brain drain. At first I doubted whether he would be interested in sticking around the village at all, but he was very receptive to the idea (really, who wouldn’t? I mean, I’d be handing him at least 500 seedlings of a tree that grows quickly and within a year has the potential to generate a significant income). We talked about where he would plant them and the logistics of my Plan B. I tried to impress upon him that Plan B would only go into effect if I gave up on the community and he seemed understanding.
I biked to Agbatitoe in the heat of the day and had a relatively good Peer Educator class. Last week I gave the kids some time to create skits for responding to peer pressure and they presented them in Wednesday’s class. They were really well done, really funny, especially the skit that showed someone pulling alcohol out at a dance party. The students were dancing around singing “Seikaseika” (the refrain of a popular song) and pretending to pour shots as they dance. It was hilarious.
Wednesday evening I had a meeting with the elders in Avassikpe. I told them that, as an outsider, I had noticed several divisions and problems within the community that impede genuine development and progress like the division between Avassikpe and Midijicope (which includes the barrage issue), the division between “authoctones” and “foreigners” and the history of bouffing. I informed them that as I went from family unit to family unit explaining the project, I listened to peoples concerns and reasons for not wanting to participate and several family units expressed that, as outsiders, they will not benefit from the project or ensuing projects because the authoctones will either bouf the money or make sure the projects serve primarily their interests. I asked them to discuss amongst themselves possible solutions so that we can attempt to bury the hatchet and begin anew in a more constructive manner. They discussed at length and I understood very little because Tsevi was only giving me a general recap every fifteen minutes or so, but I was glad to see that they were talking and seemed receptive, not just defensive. When Tsevi finally reported their conclusions, he said that they had talked a lot and that they had decided that they needed to invite the elders from Midijicope to join in the discussion and, more or less as planned, they set the meeting for Thursday. It was already late, but I went to Midijicope to inform Bebe of the meeting. She and her husband were laid out on benches sleeping when I arrived. I told them of the meeting, and then listened to her husband go off (after I said something about how the people in Avassikpe insist that the people in Midijicope didn’t contribute to dig the barrage) on how Avassikpe formed their barrage groupement two years before Midijicope and so, when they started talking about digging a barrage, Avassikpe already had 100,000 cFA or so saved up and Midijicope was just starting to cotiser. At first, they thought the barrage was going to cost 300,000 cFA (or maybe it was 3 million or three hundred million, don’t quote me on the numbers, you know I’m not good with numbers, it is just to convey the gist), but then they found someone who would dig the barrage for only 90,000 and Avassikpe that they had enough money to dig the barrage without Midijicope’s participation. According to Bebe’s husband, the “chief” of Midijicope, they heard nothing further of the barrage until one day they realized that it was being dug. When they confronted Avassikpe, they were apparently told to go dig their own barrage. (Strange ‘cause people in Avassikpe tell me that people in Midijicope refused to contribute because they had plans to build their own barrage). Apparently they brought the issue before some higher authority who said that they should agree on a sum that Midijicope should pay so that the barrage would belong to both parts of the village, but somehow Avassikpe refused and got away with it. (The elders in Avassikpe have already said that if the people in Midijicope agree to contribute the same amount Avassikpe contributed per woman and per man (often they cotiser 500cFA per man and 1000cFA per woman) that they will gain the right to “puise” (draw) water freely from the barrage). I listened to him rattle on and on when really, these are the things he needs to bring up in the meeting between the notables (important people) of each half of the village.
On Thursday morning a good number of men showed up to work the field. The work was divided into half between the residents of Avassikpe proper (the authoctones – all the people who live between me and the road) and Adjo’s father’s family’s “quartier.” In a fury of hoeing, accompanied by constant yelling about who was responsible for clearing what, the bulk of the field had been given a once-over. In under two hours, the job was done. Now, I am told, we have to wait for the rains to come before we can form the beds. The part of the field that remains overgrown with trees and shrubs (the really really overgrown part that looks like it hasn’t been farmed for decades) was left for the quartier (neighborhood) that refused to participate in the project. Apparently it was decided that they will be required to participate or they will be fined; Midijicope was left out of the plans entirely. And so the field is divided in three parcels – one for Avassikpe proper, one for Adjo’s father’s family’s quartier, and one for the quartier that refused to participate.
I spent the middle of Thursday going to the barrage, preparing my Peer Educator course for Friday, holding a one month old baby girl whose mother wants to name her Rodrique because that is the name that corresponds to her date of birth on the name calendar (crazy), and watching the neighbor women make a clay cooking stove – one outdoors to be fueled by wood and one indoors, to be fueled by charcoal, for when it rains.
The meeting between Avassikpe and Midijicope was scheduled for 4:00. At 4:00, as to be expected, no one showed. I went to sit at the dispensaire, where I could see if and when people were gathering at the chief’s house, but also where I could work on my preparations for my PE class. As I was sitting there, a ten or eleven year old girl was brought in on the back of a bicycle. Apparently, she had been writing on a chalkboard that was not well secured when the wind blew it over and somehow it sliced both the top of her foot and the heel. I didn’t get a close-up, and so I am not sure whether the bone was showing or not, but the cuts were extremely deep. Amazingly, it must have just missed the major veins because the bleeding was not uncontrollable and her Achilles tendon (I hope, she wasn’t walking, but I think the cut was low enough on her heel . . .). Lili injected her with what I assume was a numbing agent because her screams of pain eventually subsided even as Lili stitched her up. I felt helpless and so I went home and brought some candy back for the child (silly, I know, but it made me feel a tiny bit better).
At this point there was still no sign of a meeting and so I went to water my seedlings. At 6:00, people finally started to gather. When I arrived, Bebe and her husband were the only ones there from Midijicope and before the meeting even got underway, Bebe’s husband mysteriously left (I thought I heard him mutter something about going to see the trees, but he never came back and even though the President of the CVD biked the length of Avassikpe to find him, he couldn’t, which makes me think that he was “hiding out” somewhere). The meeting was interesting and to a certain extent successful, but unsuccessful in other respects. I had invited the Director of the school to translate for me while Tsevi (who is the secretary of the chief) presided over the meeting, but somehow that turned into the Director presiding over the meeting. For a moment I feared that I had unintentionally put the Director in a difficult position, but he folded before the notables and only translated bits and pieces for me as Tsevi had done. I don’t blame him – he can’t translate everything for me if the elders have instructed him to only give me a general sense. The most constructive enunciation of the meeting, in my opinion, was the recognition, on the part of Avassikpe’s elders, that an “authoctone” should not head any project. They agreed that the authoctones can participate in the management but that the people in the positions of greatest control (president, treasurer) should be “foreigners” because the “authoctones” have proved themselves untrustworthy when it comes to money management. In my opinion that is a significant and very praiseworthy acknowledgement – they are proving themselves willing to look for constructive and serious solutions. If an “authoctone” is in charge and tempted to bouff money, from collective past experience, he or she knows that there will be no consequences, but, if a “foreigner” bouffs money, you can better believe that the “authoctones” will take the issue all the way to the gendarmerie. Other than that, the head of the quartier that refused to participate was called before the chief and asked why they refused. Of course, the situation was such that it was not conducive to their free and open expression and they mumbled some partial excuses about “not knowing” and never really repeated what they had said when we met with them on their own turf, which was that they knew that the project would be hijacked by the authoctones and that they wouldn’t benefit and so they wouldn’t participate. The authoctones insisted that it is a community project and, as it will (in theory) benefit everyone who lives in Avassikpe, everyone, including this quartier, is required to participate or they will be fined. The head of the quartier stalked off evidently pissed. The debate between Midijicope and Avassikpe never even got off the ground because Bebe was the only representative and she half-heartedly said something about the work in the fields being too time-consuming and we never really delved into the barrage issue because Midijicope’s voice couldn’t be heard because they weren’t present. I was annoyed. The elders of Avassikpe did, however, say that they would be delighted if I could help them arrive at an agreement with respect to the barrage (Midijicope paying a certain sum so that the barrage could officially belong to everyone and the hatchet buried). I was all in all presently surprised by Avassikpe’s participation and seeming willingness to address problems and find constructive solutions and thoroughly annoyed by Midijicope’s lack of presence. Evidently, as the only representative, Bebe was mute.
Friday I awoke feeling nauseous in addition to the head cold that has been disturbing my sleep for several days now. I vomited and then had to get rid of the boiled corn (like hominy) and rice and beans that DaMarie brought me the night before. I need to take a moment to write about the crazy game of reciprocity that DaMarie and I have been playing for the past week or so. I can’t even remember how it started. Oh, one day, she randomly gave me beans and gari (I think in thanks for the banana bread I had made her the week before which was in thanks for the bananas that she had given me, but anyway . . .) and then she gave me boiled ignam. I think I brought her pâte and sauce and then she brought me pâte and then I brought her curried tofu, chickpeas, and rice. I thought it would end there, but when I came back from Notse, she brought me pâte and sauce (with chicken!) and I brought her a pineapple. Again, I thought it would end there, but she immediately loaded me up with this boiled corn and five minutes later sent her son over with rice and beans. So, on Friday I had an Ewe lesson scheduled and some rotting fish, ademan (green leafy vegetable) and okra to get rid of so even though I was feeling nauseous, made a huge pot of pâte sauce, made three trips to the barrage, and made pâte just in time for Jerome’s arrival. During our lesson Khosoivi (Victor, Effoh’s elder brother’s wife) sent over some steamed bean chunks in piment in thanks, I assume, for the curried tofu, chickpeas and rice that I had offloaded on her a couple of days ago after making a s---load of rice right before Jerome called to say he wouldn’t be coming. The lesson was a bit torturous because I was feeling nauseous and my head feels as though it has been stuffed to overflowing with cotton. Jerome ate some of the steamed bean chunks and a good bit of pâte, but I still had enough to bring pâte and sauce to DaMarie, DaKhosoivi and Tsevi in the evening.
In between my Ewe lesson and my Peer Educator class, I went to Midjicope to see Mana and arrange to meet in Notse on Saturday and visit the tailors who will copy my blue backpack and make me a bubu. I didn’t find Mana, but I found Bebe and the father of the child who was badly injured by a chalkboard the day before. I had heard from Lily that they had refused to buy the necessary antibiotics and tetanus shots. Of course they said they didn’t have the money, but, as always, it is an issue of priorities. I told the man, who also happens to be one of the key authorities in Midijicope, that he really needed to buy the antibiotics because, while he might spend 10,000 francs now, if her foot gets infected and they have to take her to Notse, or, worse yet, if it gets so badly infected that they have to amputate it, he will spend hundreds of thousands of francs and possibly have a handicapped child who will be a lifelong dependant. I tried to impress upon him the importance of the antibiotics – even paper cuts get infected here! I am not sure whether he understood, but I surely hope he decides that the antibiotics are a necessary expenditure. The same man, at my prompting, set another meeting time for Sunday at 4:00. Again, I tried to express how disappointed I was by their lack of participation in the meeting the night before and convey to them that this was their last chance to voice their complaints, accusations, issues, opinions etc. I also squeezed a brief meeting in with the Director of the school to thank him for his role in the meeting the night before and ask if I could visit him again in the evening to discuss the meeting further. He accepted.
My Peer Educator class was also a bit torturous, but the students were patient with me and fortunately there was a lot of group work which took a bit of the pressure off me to be my normal energetic self when I really didn’t have any energy at all. We are starting a unit on decision making and I separated the students into two groups, boys and girls, and gave them each a scenario that dealt with child trafficking and decision making and asked them to write down all the steps they would go through in making their decision to go to Nigeria and work or not (boys) or go to Lome and work (girls). After a bit of prodding and encouragement, they did a really good job and when we unveiled the list of decision-making steps they had touched on almost all of them. In the second part of the class we talked about family planning and the class took on a more conversational tone because the Director was there and he was asking questions about the way things are in the States. I also told the Director and the class that my parents will attend next Friday’s class. The students seemed really excited and clapped twice and the Director insisted that we will have some sort of reception for my parents after the class – we will see if that materializes, I am not holding my breath.
As I left I commented to the Director that it always threatens to rain, but never actually rains and wouldn’t you know it, as I biked back to Avassikpe, I got soaked by a fluke rainstorm. I didn’t mind, though, because it got me out of watering my seedlings.
In the evening, after handing out pâte and sauce to everybody and their brother, I went to speak with the Director of the school. He laid my mind to rest about having put him in an awkward position. He said that, to the contrary, the elders were expressed their pleasure at his presence and interest, and even thanked him repeatedly the next day. I guess it helps to have an outsider mediating sensitive discussions because he isn’t biased. He said that he felt that the meeting was a success, but that he also was disappointed by Midijicope’s lack of presence. I informed him of the meeting scheduled for Sunday (round 2) and requested his attendance. Earlier in the day I had recounted the whole mess to Jerome and he suggested that the ongoing problems may be the result of a power struggle between the authoctones in Avassikpe and the authoctones in Midijicope. I repeated that to the Director and he agreed and explained that the village had once been in a different location and that when they moved to the present location the authoctones in Avassikpe, who were all one family, told the other authoctones (apparently part of another family) to construct their houses further off. Originally the villages were somewhat separated by brush, but with the growth of the village they eventually melded together. So perhaps it wasn’t a quarrel between brothers as I originally suspected, but it is still a good lead.
I then went to Midijicope to see Bebe and once again emphasize the importance that they actually attend this meeting. I told them that it is absolutely their last chance and that, if they refuse even to talk, then I wash my hands of their half of the village and I will concentrate my efforts on Avassikpe only. Walking home I ran into Mana (we arranged to meet in Notse on Saturday) and then I ran into Bebe’s husband. I asked him why he had left the meeting the night before. He gave some feeble excuse about being tired of waiting, but eventually he admitted that it was because none of the other “notables” from Midijicope were present and he knew that it would be an uphill battle without at least force in numbers. And so he ran away. I again emphasized that Sunday is their last chance to express themselves. I can’t help but feel that the leaders in Midijicope are not willing to make the effort. Bebe’s husband, whom I don’t particularly like, just keeps repeating that Avassikpe and Midijicope can never work together on a project; he doesn’t seem very ready to listen and respond proactively.
At home, I made banana bread with some rotting bananas, fended off children’s (and adults’) prying eyes, and lay in my hammock while it baked. Tsevi came buy and complemented my pâte and sauce. He said that he had even asked Tseviato if she had helped me cook today because he couldn’t believe that I had made it all by myself. He said that it was a good thing that I was already married because otherwise I would never leave Africa. He said that I prepared pâte as well as a Togolese woman – I was pleased by the complements especially because the day before he had been comparing me to Emmanuelle negatively and saying that Emmanuelle always ate with them and that I never ate with them. I told him it was because I enjoyed cooking for myself, not that I didn’t want to eat with them; if they invite me to eat, I will gladly accept. Perhaps at the beginning I wasn’t completely, comfortable and didn’t eat a lot, but he should just test me and see how much I will eat if he invites me for fufu again.
This morning, after cleaning up my house a bit, I biked into Notse. I felt very lacking in energy even though I had eaten some banana bread for breakfast. Upon arriving in Notse I went directly to get my pineapples for the week and then I biked back to Ashley’s house and showered. I was just starting to write when Ashley and Regina arrived from Atakpame. I alternated between chatting and writing until my mom called. That was a surprise that I was particularly thankful for because I haven’t been able to answer emails recently and I wanted my parents to know that I am getting ready to receive them and super excited. As we were talking, Mana finally showed up, just as I had guessed, at the hottest part of the day. We went to a tailor who said he would replicate my worn and torn blue over-the-shoulder bag for 2000 cFA and then we went to another workshop where they have the machines to do embroidery and said they would make me a bubu with an embroidered neck for 3,500 cFA. Both will supposedly be ready next Saturday. Mana and another young woman from the village continued to the market, but I returned home to wait until the sun lost a bit of its raging fury.
A little after three, Ashley, Regina and I ventured out to the market. We eventually split because Ashley needed to buy peanuts and hoes for her moringa project with someone from her organization and Regina accompanied me in my quest for a mirror, an umbrella, tape, a woven reed basket, and margarine.
Just as we were leaving the market, Jorge called, but luckily, he was able to call again half an hour later once I was in the peace and quiet of Ashley’s house and could actually talk. It is always such a special treat to be able to talk with him and hear his voice and actually discuss topics in real time with audio.
The rest of the day I just spent writing emails. Tomorrow, the Peace Corps bike man is coming (good thing because my back brakes don’t work at all now) at 7:30 in the morning and then I have a meeting (the first in ages) with my Children’s Rights group at 9:30, and then I will unfortunately have to bike back to village in the hottest part of the day to be there in time for my meeting between Avassikpe and Midijicope (which had darn better take place). Then I only have two and a half days in village to clean my house and prepare for my parents arrival. After my Peer Educator course on Wednesday I will bike to Notse and Thursday morning I will go to Lome. Yay!!
4/13/08
I have ringworm on my leg and a sinus infection that leaves me feeling like someone punched me in the face, but my meeting went as well as could be hoped for and for that I am thankful and happy. It started late, but what is important is that it started at all and that everyone important from both Midijicope and Avassikpe was in attendance. Again, I couldn’t really understand everything and only the general direction of the debate was reported to me, but we discussed the moringa project and after some reluctance, the “notables” from Midijicope agreed that they will participate. We discussed the need for more transparency on the part of the dispensaire most particularly, but also all other committees that manage communal funds and finally they agreed that the people in Avassikpe will look in their books, see how much they cotise-ed for the barrage and then inform Midijicope of the sum they need to raise to earn barrage rights and co-ownership. Everyone left the meeting in seemingly good spirits. Tomorrow I will pay the director another visit to glean his impressions, comments, and opinions.
So, I am happy about the meeting. Very happy – it is a great first step. Now I have to deliver on the dispensaire issue and get to work legitimizing all the other committees. Jorge suggested a board where each committee posts on a monthly basis their income, expenditures and balance. I think that is a great idea. I am just envisioning a big piece of wood painted with black chalkboard paint on the road by the market between Avassikpe and Midijicope where everyone can see it and where the treasurers of each committee will report their monthly money matters. I need a meeting with my CVD. I need lists of existing committees and their members. This isn’t exactly health work, but it is definitely community development work.
Other than the meeting in village, this morning I had a meeting with my Children’s Rights club and invited them to come to village next weekend. We agreed that I will send the car for them at 11:00 on Saturday. Afterwards Yawovi offered up an idea for a livestock raising activity and Regina (a SED volunteer) gave them a sound piece of advice: if you’re interested in raising livestock, find someone who does it successfully and learn from them; the same goes for every trade.
After the meeting, Hevihevi (who I think prefers to be called Titi) showed us how to make sugar peanuts and then the bike repair man came and replaced my rear brakes and my handle grips and greased and oiled my entire bicycle. The difference was palpable as I was biking back to village.
Tomorrow, a marathon of cleaning and getting ready for my parents visit awaits me. I am going to scrub my floors – it is both scary (I don’t know what will happen – they are so dirty) and exciting because I have been waiting a long time for my parents visit to motivate me to give this house the thorough cleaning it needs.
4/14/08 through 4/30/08
It has been so long since I have written that I almost dread the task because it seems so formidable. We are in Atakpame and halfway through my parents visit which, so far, is going really well (knock on wood). Last Monday, Tuesday and half of Wednesday I spent cleaning my house like a mad woman. First I deharmattan-ized the whole house by dusting the ceiling, wiping down the window frames and screens with a damp cloth and then dusting everything in the house. It took a lot of time because I have a lot of things and everything (EVERYTHING) needed to be dusted. I also had loads of laundry to do, so that took care of Monday. On Tuesday I moved everything that wasn’t put away on my wooden shelves or in my baskets into my front room and swept and washed the floor. I also learned how to make roasted peanuts with Tsevi (we just boiled the peanuts in saltwater and then dried them in the sun for several hours before roasting them in little batches in a cast iron pot. I ran out of sunlight before I was able to finish washing the floors in my front room and so I was still finishing up the cleaning on Wednesday morning at the same time that I was trying to prepare two Peer Educator courses (one for Wednesday afternoon and one for Friday). I felt a little stressed just because I really wanted my house to be nice and I think I was a little anxious about my parents visit.
My Peer Educator course on Wednesday went reasonably well. We were talking about the methods of contraception and the students seemed interested and attentive. I tried to manipulate a Femidom (female condom) for the first time to show them how to use it and found it more difficult than I expected. Together we concluded that male condoms are better (cheaper, easier to use, more available, less of an error margin). After my class I biked to Notse and arrived at Ashley’s house just before dark. Unfortunately, the power was out and so I continued preparing my Peer Educator class for Friday by lantern light. Luckily, after feeling around I found Ashley’s lighter and lantern, otherwise I would have just been sitting in the dark twiddling my thumbs.
Thursday morning I was out of the house by 6:30 and cruising out of Notse in a full car by 8:00. We made good time to Lome and by mid-morning I was in the Peace Corps Bureau. I had many things to do in Lome, but I felt all disoriented and couldn’t focus. I did manage to go to the MedUnit and get some of the refills I needed, and I eventually tracked my APCD down and bugged him about a moringa conference I want to go to in Burkina Faso in July, but I didn’t manage to make the certificates of achievement that I need for my Peer Educators. I went out to lunch with Ashley and Maggie to our favorite Lebanese restaurant where we can get cheese on flatbread and schwarmas (grilled beef and french-fries in a soft pita-like wrap. Before I knew it, it was three in the afternoon and all of a sudden I was feeling antsy about having enough time to check into the hotel, shower and get to the airport to meet my parents and grandmother.
Walking into the Ibis was like walking through a portal into a different planet, or at least a different country. I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t know how to behave and felt dirty and underdressed. I half expected them to kick me out the back door and yell at me never to come back. I think only my white skin saved me from that dismal fate. The staff was actually very nice and accommodating and the hotel more luxurious than I ever could have imagined except for one small, but significant detail: I had been hoping, counting on the fact even, that the hotel would have FREE wireless internet. It had wireless internet, but, unfortunately, expensive wireless internet. I took my second hot shower since arriving in Togo (not great for my heat rash, but heavenly nonetheless, especially when you have an air-conditioned room to step out into), got dressed and made a five minute introduction for the video series I am making for Jorge during my parents visit to allow him to better imagine my surroundings.
As I was walking to find a taxi to the airport, Constant (the young man who organized the car and driver for Dad’s visit in October and whom I engaged again to organize this visit) called me. I asked him for the price of a taxi to the airport so I wouldn’t be taken advantage of and he suggested that he come with the van and we go together to the airport to receive my parents. I agreed and sat down to wait. It was an hour before they arrived. Luckily I had some reading material, but I was still getting nervous when six o’clock rolled around and they still weren’t there. My parents were supposed to arrive at six. I knew it would take them a bit of time to get through customs and retrieve their bags, but it was important for me to be there when they walked through the gates. Everything turned out wonderfully, though, - Constant rolled in with the van shortly after six, we were at the airport by 6:30 and I was giving my parents and grandmother welcome-to-Togo-I-haven’t-seen-you-in-ten-months hugs less than half an hour later. It was (and still is) so lovely to see them. They were tired, but in good spirits. We went directly to the hotel, unloaded and then had a drink while listening to a live band and chatting up a storm. It is so surreal to have people from home visit; the melding of two worlds previously separated by an ocean.
On Friday we ate breakfast at the hotel. It was a breakfast buffet with pastries and cereal and bread and cheese and fruit and coffee and hot chocolate and eggs and I ate it all. Yup, that’s right. Well, the breakfast cost a whopping 5,500 cFA (more than $10 a person) and I was trying to get my money’s worth. I figured that each croissant is worth about 350 (I had three) and that cereal (cornflakes and chocolate rice crispies) is worth a pretty penny. Eggs are worth 75 cFA each and I must have had two, and cheese is pretty expensive, not to mention hot chocolate and orange juice. I still think they made a profit, but I gave it a valiant effort. Besides, I had to make up for my parents and grandmother who definitely weren’t getting their money’s worth.
After breakfast we went to the Peace Corps Bureau. We met with my CD – she knew my parents in Niger and so they chatted a bit and exchanged stories of the children they adopted from Niger. After chatting with my CD for a few minutes, we went and met my APCD. The day before he had told me that they are only taking one NRM and one CHAP volunteer to the Moringa conference in Burkina Faso and that I would not be among them because I am going to the FARN conference in Benin. Fair enough, if that were, in fact, the case, but I read in the Togovin (informational newsletter for volunteers) as I was waiting for Constant to pick me up at the hotel, that they had budgeted for three NRM volunteers and three CHAP volunteers and that all interested volunteers should contact their APCDs. Well, out of all the CHAP volunteers, the only ones really interested in Moringa as far as I know are Ashley, Tig and I. I know I am going to the Benin conference, but that fits really well with the Moringa conference because it all deals with nutrition which is my primary interest. So . . . I gave my APCD an earful. We then toured the rest of the Peace Corps facility – the MedUnit and the Lounge and went on our merry way. We went to the bank and to the supermarket and then, on our way out of Lome, stopped to pick up Ashley and Becka’s passports at the Ghanaian embassy where they had left them to get visas. It took us a while to get from Lome to Notse because we were stopping intermittently and looking for cement. Finally we found the two bags of cement that I need to build a second cistern at the back of my house. Apparently, even though Togo produces cement, we have national cement shortages because they export all the cement abroad where they can sell it for more money.
Once in Notse we settled into the southern plantation style Hotel Berceau and had a picnic lunch of bread from Tsevie (apparently the best bread in Togo) and cheese that my parents brought all the way from AMERICA (=0) I get a kick out of it every time volunteers here refer to the United States as America because I know how much you would get jumped on in Latin America for doing the same thing). It was a simple but delicious lunch and a special treat for Ashley and me. We didn’t have much time before my peer educator class and so we dropped Ashley off at her house and continued to the CEG (Middle School) in Agbatitoe.
My Peer Educator class went well. My parents were very good sports and participated in all aspects of the class. We did a true and false game using rumors surrounding contraceptive methods to help the students differentiate between well informed statements and ignorant people who make up things to discredit contraceptive methods. I then divided the class into groups and had them make lists of the benefits of family planning (having the number of children you want, when you want them) for the child, the mother, the father, and the country of Togo as a whole. Then we did another group activity in which they were given a scenario and had to use the good decision making skills they learned last week to decide what contraceptive method(s) the person in the scenario should use. I think that taxed everyone (including my parents) a little too much, but at least it got them thinking a bit. After the class, the Director arrived with one of my students and a tray full of koliko (ignam French fries) complete with spaghetti, tomato sauce, omelets, avocado and two big bottles of beer and two of soda. It was a really sweet gesture, albeit a little awkward because we were directed to sit on benches set up in banquet-table fashion and were served mountains of food, but the students also ate and eventually polished off the bottle of beer we left untouched. I had tried to convince the Director to just bring soda, but he insisted on the beer. It was getting dark when we finally left and so I offered to take the students who live along the road to Notse home. We all piled in the car and we dropped the majority of them off in Rodokpe and one in Alicope and then we continued to Ashley’s house where we sat and chatted a bit before retiring to the Berceau for the night.
Saturday morning we got an early start and met Ashley at an egg sandwich stand near her house around 7:30 for breakfast. After breakfast we went to the market. It was market day, but luckily it was early in the morning and not too unbearably busy. We walked around for a bit just to experience the market and I bought all the ingredients I needed to feed my parents in village. On the menu: rice with peanut sauce and chicken, fufu and chicken sauce and pâte and an ademan-fish sauce. I wanted them to experience traditional Togolese cuisine, but without having to worry about the cleanliness of the preparation. We were in the market for about an hour and then Mimi, Dad and Ashley drove to Ashley’s house while Mom and I walked to buy three kilos of frozen chicken legs and thighs, and to check on my boubou and bag that were supposed to be ready Saturday morning. Of course neither the boubou nor the bag were ready, but I did buy the chicken and did myself a huge favor by requesting that the man cut it into little pieces for me.
We met back up at Ashley’s and around 10:00 headed out to Avassikpe. There was a bit of hubbub when we arrived – the women had not yet left for the fields and so women and children swarmed the house and car. My house is so tiny that any time I have more than one visitor it is a little overwhelming, but we worked it out. Luckily for me, my parents and grandmother all speak French and so they are not dependant on me to communicate. That allowed me to leave them to fend for themselves while I prepared the meal. My parents and grandmother sat under the paillote with the children to entertain them (I’m not 100% sure who was entertaining who), while I crushed onions, garlic, tomatoes, piment, black pepper, and anise on my crushing rock out behind my house. Tseviato helped me, but nevertheless, it took me about an hour to finish crushing everything and by that time the van had returned with Ashley and the bulk of the students that make up my Children’s Rights club. The two days we spent in my village were hands down the most stressful days of the trip for me (thus far at least) because that is the place and the days I was most invested in. Not only did I want all of the people I interact with on a daily basis to meet my parents and vice-versa, but I also wanted to prepare (by myself) local meals for them to eat and do my best to be a good hostess in rural West Africa (a challenging task in and of itself). In addition, I felt stressed because not only was I hosting my parents, but also all the people in my village who came to greet my parents and I wasn’t completely sure what was expected of me, who all I was expected to feed.
Once my Children’s Rights club arrived, my parents had French-speakers to interact with and so Ashley and I picked stones out of rice while my parents discussed I don’t know what with my students. Unfortunately Sylvain (a young man I met in Notse that is not even from Avassikpe or part of my Children’s Rights group) somehow invited himself to come along and so he monopolized the conversation and irritated both myself and my students (I think), but what can you do? When I had lunch more or less under control, I asked the students to go greet their families (so as to give my parents and grandmother a little “repos”), but then Tsevi and the president of the CVD came over with warm soda and sodabe (a very hard liquor). It was a nice gesture on their part and my Dad downed a shot of sodabe and even my mother and grandmother tasted a tiny bit. Mom ended up giving most of her half-filled shot glass to the ancestors =0). After conversing a bit, Tsevi and the president of the CVD left and the holes were replaced with children who entertained my parents with impromptu singing until I shooed them away so that we could eat a late lunch of rice (with tiny stones Ashley and I missed) and chicken peanut sauce. I invited the women hanging around the paillote to eat, but of course they refused. I have not yet figured out how to differentiate a real invitation to eat from a purely cursory one, but I was glad they refused because they were random women and from the village who had come to gawk and not the women I spend much of my time with. After my parents had eaten, I invited the women from the houses in front and some of my Children’s Rights club students to eat and so, in one fell swoop, I fed a good bulk of the people I wanted to feed and got rid of the big pot of rice I had made.
After allowing our late lunch to digest a bit, we decided to take advantage of the weakening sun and walk around the village to greet people and see the sights. There is an old Ewe proverb that says that the stranger has feet, meaning that it is the stranger’s duty to go out and greet the inhabitants of a place, and so we made our rounds in parade-like fashion (with children and my older students in tow) and greeted all the people I interact with regularly. We gradually made our way to the end of the village and finally returned to my house just as it was getting dark. We had yet to greet the chief, but Dad, Mimi, Ashley and some of my students were returning to Notse and so we made a brief stop at the chief’s house on their way out.
Mom stayed the night in the village with me. It was a beautiful night with a full moon that lit up the village making a flashlight completely superfluous. She took a bucket bath while I cleaned up a little from the day’s activities. Just after she came back inside I sliced my thumb on the metal lid of a tomato paste can and so she helped me to finish tidying up my house. I showered and then we went over to sit with Effoh, DaKhosoivi, DaJulie and her mom. I think my mom enjoyed the experience of spending an evening in the same way that I frequently spend mine: having three way conversations between myself, Effoh, and the women, with Effoh acting as linguistic intermediary. We tried to explain the idea of roasting marshmallows because the embers in DaJulie’s clay stove would have been perfect for that and then we got in a discussion of how difficult it is for a non-American to go to the United States. We didn’t go to bed until after ten; I zonked out quickly, but I think my mom had a little harder time falling asleep in a room that is so unprotected from outside noises.
On Sunday Dad and Mimi arrived around 8:00. I made bouillie out of corn and soy flour for our breakfast and Mom and I started to sort and clean ademan leaves (breaking off the long stems and setting them aside for compost) and clean and chop the okra for the pâte sauce I would make after church. As it turned out, church was the most relaxing part of my day. I enjoyed the service and the fact that my parents and grandmother were experiencing church Avassikpe-style with the boisterous, roof-raising singing, praying and preaching. Effoh translated for Mom, Mimi and I and Amiru (the young man from Midijicope who is on the CVD) translated for Dad because he was on the men’s side of the church. My parents were introduced to the church, Dad said a few words, thanking them for welcoming me into their village and congregation and then we listened to the sermon which was about male-female relations and sorcery (as usual). There was no public humiliation, though, and we were released an hour earlier than usual.
The rest of the day was a blur of food preparation, tending to guests, and dealing with excess food. As always, I went overboard with my own preparations and underestimated the number of people who would bring offerings of food. Bébé brought two huge plates full of rice and beans and topped with spaghetti noodles, complete with a spicy tomato based sauce. DaMarie continued our ongoing battle of reciprocity with a huge pot of mashed wild ignams and later pâte and sauce, and Tseviato’s mom brought over three eggs and mangos as a gift. I myself prepared a huge quantity of fufu and pâte with sauce. Actually, I didn’t prepare the fufu all by myself. DaJulie helped Mom, Dad, Mimi and I peel and cut ignams because they were going bad and we weren’t sure what parts were salvageable. Then she insisted on boiling the ignams over her wood fire and before I knew it my mom heard the pounding of fufu. We ran over to DaJulie’s compound and sure enough, they had already started pounding the fufu themselves. Two adolescent girls took over and then Mom, Mimi, Dad and I gave it a try. Dad said that I am better at it now than I was when he came in October . . . and I definitely didn’t generate the most laughs. They were most amazed by Mimi pounding fufu and my Dad because distinguished, grey-bearded men don’t pound fufu. He wouldn’t have pounded fufu either except that he made a comment, in French, that men don’t do that sort of work and so I made him pound just to counteract that statement.
Just as the teenage girls were finishing the job, the van arrived with Ashley, Alicia and Tig. Unfortunately, they had just eaten, but nonetheless we sat down to eat a late afternoon meal of pâte and fufu (mostly fufu – no one really touched the pâte; too bad Jerome wasn’t there because he would have made a big dent in all the pâte that I ended up having to get rid of in one way or another). Lili came and ate with us (we had gone over to her house earlier in the day to meet her, invite her to lunch and give her the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff that my parents brought her as gifts). After eating I tried to figure out what to do with the mountains of leftover food. I felt very stressed because I wanted to be spending time relaxing with my family and friends, but instead I was stressing out and rushing around like a chicken with my head cut off. Throwing out food is a huge no-no, but giving food turns complicated as well sometimes because you can’t give just any old food, it has to be presentable and look as if it was a planned gift, set aside from the beginning and not an afterthought. Adding to my stress level was the fact that we had not yet officially met and been received by the chief and that I was planning to leave village that evening for two weeks. I gave food to I don’t know how many people. Essentially, I shifted food around and gave some of the rice, beans, spaghetti and sauce that Bébé made to Tsevi, and the wild ignam dish that DaMarie made to Bébé and fufu to DaMarie and fufu to Tseviato’s mom. My problem was also that fufu is very prized at this time of year because ignams are few and far between (like I said, mine were going bad and should have been eaten a month ago except that I was saving them for the occasion) and everyone who knew that I had made fufu would feel less than pleased with a gift of pâte and sauce instead. It was a mess. Eventually I found bellies for almost all the food and then we set off to drink sodabe with the chief. Dad took one for the team (I’m beginning to think it is a little less of an altruistic gesture than he would like us to believe, I think he is developing a taste for sodabe =0) and the rest of us drank warm coke. I’m not sure which is viler – warm coke or sodabe – let’s just say neither are to my liking, but it is the thought that counts. After introductions and some short exchanges with the chief and village elders, we returned to the house. It was already 6:00 and getting dark and my students from Notse were waiting to be taken back to the grande ville, but my house was a mess and I had not yet packed for the two weeks I would spend out of village (one week traveling with my family and another week at a conference in Benin) and so I decided to minimize my stress, send everyone else on their way and spend one more night in village. I did just that and it turned out to be a really good decision because it took me several hours to clean my house, feed remaining remnants of food to continuously hungry children, and make a list of all the things I needed to pack. Had I rushed myself to leave Sunday night, not only would I have been stressed, but I would have left my house in a state that does not favor returning to village and I am sure I would have forgotten half of the things I wanted to pack. As it was, I took my time tidying up my house and burned the nasty smelling cardboard that the smoked fish had been wrapped in (imagine that after two weeks incubation!) among other burnable trash. I left the actual packing until morning, but I was ready by 6:30 and had time to weed my moringa seedlings and discover that some of the larger trees had tap roots that were maneuvering their way out of the drainage holes in the bags and into the ground. That was problematic and worried me because if the taproot anchors itself in the ground I will likely kill my trees when I try to move them to the field. I decided to consult my Dad. I also had time to go see Lili who extremely displeased when I told her that my parents had left the village for good the night before. She said that she had had two sick people and a birth and that she hadn’t been able to return after we ate, but that she thought my parents would still be in village on Monday. She said that what I had done was “pas bon” and that people in the village would not be happy that my parents had spent so little time in village. That, of course, upset me, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Having my parents in village was stressful because the time was limited and there were so many people to meet and greet, but I’m not sure any of us could have handled more days in village because it is constant “on” time. It is the place where everyone’s actions have the most consequence for my time in Togo and where we are constantly being observed and engaged. Even so, I was upset by her insistence that people would be unhappy with me and the way I had planned my parents’ visit, but I set those thoughts aside for the time being. I think she was most upset at not having had the chance to thank my parents herself and make some show of hospitality towards them.
The car came to pick me up around 8:00 and took Mana and me to Notse. I picked up my boubou (I really like it; my bag, however, was still not ready) and then met my family and Ashley, Alicia, and Tig at Ashley’s house. We chatted for a bit and then piled into the van to go to Jerome’s village. Ashley stayed home to work on a moringa project proposal, but Alicia and Tig went with us. We were very warmly received in Jerome’s village; the elders met us with a calabash of palm wine that they poured on the ground as an offering to the ancestors and a blessing over our visit. We were then offered coconut juice, sodabe, palm wine (only slightly fermented) and Tchouk (talk about not mixing your alcohols . . .). Dad drank some sodabe, Alicia drank some Tchouk (which she said was not very good – she would know . . .) and Tig and I shared some palm wine. They then offered us pieces of fresh coconut and been beignets with a spicy dipping sauce. We did the introductions and the mini speeches of welcome and thanks and then we went on a walk to visit the sodabe distillery.
I thought it would be interesting for my friends and family to see the process even if they don’t like drinking the product. I had already seen it, but I still found it interesting, especially the part where they are actually tapping the felled palm tree. We wondered if and why it wouldn’t be possible to tap the palm trees like we tap maple trees and if it wouldn’t be a more sustainable method of harvesting palm sap for palm wine and sodabe. I would like to give it a try. After the palm wine/sodabe tour, we walked back to village and were served a meal of pâte with dried okra sauce and pieces of ram that Jerome had slaughtered in our honor (I was touched by the gesture). The meaty pieces were delicious, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat the organs: stomach, intestines, kidneys, liver, you name it . . . The cut on my thumb also made it very difficult to eat. Mom suggested that I eat with my left hand even though it is taboo, but I didn’t and am thankful because, had I eaten with my left hand, no one would have touched my leftovers. As it was, the other guests finished off the stomach and kidney that I left in my bowl.
After lunch we took a walk around the village. They have a deep well that is non-functional because they were drilling through rock and ran out of money before reaching the water table. Dad suggested that they seal the bottom and rig up a rainwater harvesting system because even though the well hasn’t yet reached the water table, it is still a huge reservoir capable of holding vast quantities of water. Jerome didn’t seem too interested in the suggestion and I can’t help but wonder if it is because, during the rainy season, there is water everywhere and during the dry season, even a well as deep as this one couldn’t satisfy the water needs of the entire village. We also got an impromptu lesson on traditional herbs and what they can be used for and I tasted a palm kernel from which they make white (as opposed to red) palm oil. It was extremely hard and not particularly tasty. Soon after getting back to Jerome’s we took our leave, playing the “grandmother card” in order to gracefully escape Jerome’s extreme hospitality (but mostly to get to Notse, pick up Ashley, have a Fanmilk and jump in the pool at the hotel, which was exactly what we did).
That afternoon was perhaps one of the most enjoyable that I spent with my family because it was completely stress-free. It was an out of Togo experience: the first time I had been in a pool since arriving in Togo, in a beautiful, almost private setting, with my friends and family, punctuated by trail-mix (with m&ms!) and capped by a nice dinner. It was such a treat and I was happy to share the treat with some of my closest friends in Togo.
Tuesday morning, after eating breakfast at an egg sandwich stand and waiting for my bag to be fixed (the tailor had put the strap on wrong) we drove out to Avassikpe (still without my finished bag) to move my seedlings and hopefully prevent them from becoming rooted in the ground. It was a little bit of a s---show because just as we arrived I realized that a bottle of nail polish (that had cracked in the sun while I frolicked in the pool the day before) had completely exploded in my purse. I was trying to clean up that mess, while my grandmother was desperate for the keys to my latrine, and my Dad started moving my seedlings and cutting back the roots that were poking out of the holes in the bags. Mimi, Mom, Dad, myself, Tsevi, Constant and the drivers all helped move trees and slice their roots, so the job was quickly finished, but Dad somehow got so dirty in the process that he had to shower (I think he rolled around in the dirt before I got out there =0) and Mimi had a cut on her foot that needed doctoring. On our way out of town, we stopped at the dispensaire. After presenting a gift of coke to my parents, Lili gave us the official tour of the dispensaire. I was happy that we returned to Avassikpe not only because of my trees, but because I think Lili was really relieved to have the chance to thank my parents in some way.
After one last wave goodbye to Avassikpe, we continued on our journey to Atakpame. The hotel in Atakpame was the most decrepit of the hotels that we stayed in, but it had the best view (you have to give it that). I think, it its day, it was probably a very nice establishment, but it has fallen into disrepair. Upon arrival in Atakpame we dropped our things at the hotel, went to visit the maison briefly (just so my parents and grandmother could see where I stay when I am in Atakpame) and then went to a restaurant with a nice view of the city for lunch. It was an ideal spot to wait out the hottest part of the day, but as often happens in restaurants unaccustomed to regular customers, there was a limited dining selection. It is amusing because often a whole menu will be brought out and only once you have made your choice will the waiter or waitress inform you that that is not available. By the fifth or sixth unavailable choice, you get fed-up and ask the waiter or waitress what exactly is available, or, more politely, what they recommend you order. At this restaurant, the available meals were written on a chalkboard, but what the waitress didn’t tell us was that there were two available fish meals and two available chicken meals. So Mom and Dad ordered the fish and Mimi and I ordered the chicken. Mom and Dad’s fish had teeth, big piranha-like teeth, but after I beheaded and de-boned it for them (for my Mom, my dad did his own), it was actually really tasty. The chicken was good as well and we shared among all four of us the sides of French fries and fried plantains.
We allowed our food to digest and the force of the sun to diminish before leaving the restaurant, strolling around the market and eventually making our way towards the maison on the roads I frequently walk. The van picked us up and we went to a weavers co-op. It was interesting – three people weaving cloth by hand – but only for about fifteen minutes and then we went back to the hotel for a bit of R&R. In the evening we snacked on pineapple and granola bars and just chatted amongst ourselves on the terrace of our hotel. Unfortunately, the power went out right before we went to bed; the hotel didn’t have a generator and the breeze wasn’t blowing in the right direction to cool our rooms. It was so hot I wasn’t able to sleep until the electricity (and therefore the air conditioner) came back on. Another interesting thing about the hotel was that they didn’t have pillow cases and so they had wrapped the top part of the bottom sheet around the pillow (to hide how nasty the pillow was) and thereby short-sheeted the bed. As a result, my Dad put his foot through one of the sheets. I figure that it serves them right for being so cheap; the next time I need a hotel in Atakpame (probably never), I will have to find a better one.
Wednesday morning we ate breakfast at an egg sandwich stand and then drove to Kpalime. The drive was beautiful (the Kpalime area is one of the most luscious parts of Togo in terms of vegetation and it is such a stark contrast from my area and particularly my village; it is practically rainforest, the soil is black with fertility, the trees abnormally tall and the undergrowth unusually dense. Upon arriving in Kpalime we went to our hotel, a really cute establishment in a peaceful location on the outskirts of Kpalime – it was our favorite hotel out of the four we stayed in (the only thing lacking was a pool) which was fortunate because we ended up spending many more days there than planned. After unloading the car, we drove to Agou Nyogbo. I had tried to inform my host family of our arrival, but cell phone service is spotty in our former training site and so it was a surprise visit. We arrived around 11:00 and stopped at my host family’s house. My host mom was the only one home and she greeted me and then my family with an energetic round of hugs (two groups of American trainees have turned Agou Nyogbo into a very “huggy” village – everyone hugs now – it is a little strange). Unfortunately Felicite was at school (and Fidele too has started school) and so we soon ran out of conversation and decided to take a walk around the village. On our way towards the tech center we stopped to greet Helen’s host mom (the woman who bakes all sorts of yummy goodies) and Tig’s host mom (the owner of Afrikiko). And then, by chance, my host dad passed us on his moto on the way to his field. He drove past me and then the recognition must have clicked because he stopped and turned back around. He changed all his plans to accommodate our visit, invited us to his house (the other house where his second wife lives), and served us cold sodas. His second wife (Victoire’s mom) just had another baby and so I avoided the awkwardness by playing with the baby (who then peed on me – no biggy). It was awkward because you’re throwing people together who really have nothing in common; conversation seems forced while silence is unsettling and so the compromise is to act out a strange dance of giving and receiving. It would be unthinkable for my parents to come to Togo without meeting my host family, and for my host family it would be unthinkable not to offer my parents soda and a meal (hence the reason I wanted to forewarn them), and so this exchange is acted out and is uncomfortable while it lasts but leaves everyone feeling happy and satisfied afterwards. My parents thanked my host family for taking care of me for three months and embracing me as a temporary member of their family and offered them gifts in appreciation and my host family received my parents in proper Togolese fashion by offering such tokens of hospitality as sodas and a meal that my host mom whipped up out of no where. I am sure, had I been able to inform them in advance of our pending arrival, that it would have been much more of a production and perhaps a little less awkward because the reception would have been planned. As it was, the awkwardness seemed magnified (less masked) and I must admit I breathed a sigh of relief when we drove out of the village.
The afternoon was dedicated to shopping for souvenirs and gifts. We walked around some tourist shacks in and around Kpalime and then we went to the centre artesanal and then to the mission where my parents bought a rocking hippo and an elaborately carved chess set many moons ago. Kpalime is known for its wood carvings and is one of the most “touristy” areas of Togo and so we traveled the tourist circuit from one shop to another, but didn’t buy anything. My parents and grandmother wanted to get a good idea of what was available before making a purchase so Wednesday afternoon was for browsing and Thursday morning for buying.
Wednesday evening we enjoyed each others company and conversation at the hotel and had a delicious meal. Unfortunately, that night my grandmother was struck by a string of liquid diarrhea attacks that would allow her no respite for more that twenty-four hours. In PCV lingo, we call it “peeing out of your a--,” and every volunteer in Togo has pooped their pants at least once. It was a rough night.
On Thursday we decided to take it easy. My parents, and Tig who had come to Kpalime to meet us, went to the various shops to buy their favorite carvings from the day before while my grandmother camped out by the bathroom and tried to rehydrate, and I tried to catch up a little on my email-writing. By lunchtime, my grandmother’s state had not improved and we were worried about her becoming dehydrated and debating taking her to the Baptist missionary hospital in Adeta, 30 km outside of Kpalime. When she vomited, the decision was made easy – vomiting will dehydrate a person much more severely than diarrhea and so we all piled into the van and went to the hospital. Tig, Dad and I sat outside this American hospital with lovely landscaping while Mom accompanied Mimi. According to the lab tests, my grandmother had contracted amoebic dysentery in less than a week in Togo. Our PCMOs (Peace Corps Medical Officers) tell us that amoebas take at least 7-10 days to make themselves known by disturbing your bowels and so, essentially, she must have contracted amoebas on the plane or in her first twenty-four hours in Togo. That is ridiculous. We were even being careful: only bottled water, no food that isn’t hot, no street-food (except egg sandwiches for breakfast), only restaurant food and food I cooked myself, and lots of hand sanitizer (which Ashley later informed us is virtually useless). It just goes to show how you can’t avoid amoebas (among other nasty critters) in Togo no matter how careful you are (unless you bring all prepackaged food from the U.S. and make sure to constantly wash your hands with soap and warm water). It also proves that you build up a certain resistance to the different parasites because I ate all the same food they did, was even less careful, and felt fine. The doctor gave us three prescriptions of amoeba-cide because Mom was also starting to have diarrhea. Mom took the medicine and Dad fought off his amoebas (he must be more resistant as well) with the help of his malaria medicine (choloroquine).
We got back to Kpalime as the sun set. Mimi was sent to bed with no dinner (the worst thing you can do is feed the amoebas) and Mom, Dad and I had a delicious pasta dish at the hotel restaurant. Thursday night was less rough than Wednesday night, but still not smooth sailing. Throughout the whole thing my grandmother was trooper. Had I been the sick one, I think I would have been a much more whiny patient. She didn’t complain at all and just did her best to manage diarrhea that would make even the hardiest of PCVs reconsider their decision to come to Togo. Luckily, the medicine started to kick in (and kick amoeba butt) and by Friday morning the diarrhea had eased up a bit. Friday morning we went to Tig’s village and visited her house, the EcoSan latrines that Engineers Without Borders is building, her dispensaire and her sources of water. I was particularly amazed by her moringa trees. The seedlings she planted when we first got to post are now tall trees that have already produced seed pods. It is incredible. It was nice for my parents and grandmother to see Tig’s village because it is very different from my own (and was my second choice). It is just nice to see a variety of villages.
We left Tig’s village around noon and stopped at a restaurant in Kpalime for lunch. We were planning to eat there, but the amoebas decided to make themselves heard and so we took the meals to the hotel (where there was a convenient bathroom) and ate there. I had lasagna for the first time since coming to Togo and it was delicious.
Friday afternoon I surreptitiously did laundry (afraid the hotel staff would discover me and insist upon washing my laundry for me) and then Mom, Dad and I went to the market. We wandered around – it wasn’t very busy, but I like it that way. Dad bought a straw mat to protect a carved wooden wall hanging of a giraffe that they bought and I bought okra seeds, ademan seeds and two different pagnes. One of the pagnes is a brightly colored and busy material that I chose for our stage pagne project (each of the girls from my stage will buy two pagnes worth of the same material and then we will have a seamstress cut them all apart and sew the strips of different material together to make new and identical pagnes) and the other is a yellow, orange, burgundy and gold pagne that I plan to make a complet out of. After tiring of the market, we went back to the hotel, played two games of Bouc, ate mangos and went to bed. We were able to sleep through the night, which was particularly important for my grandmother who had to board a plane for an exhausting trip back to the States the next day.
On Saturday Mimi was feeling a bit better and after breakfast we piled into the car and drove down to Lome. We stopped first at the Peace Corps Bureau where I got a chance to chat with Jorge and then we went to Marox (the restaurant one of my Dad’s friends calls her favorite restaurant in West Africa). The food there is good and it really isn’t too pricy, but I wouldn’t call it my favorite restaurant in West Africa; I wouldn’t even call it my favorite restaurant in Togo. It think the food isn’t my favorite sort of food – it is a German restaurant, but I am more of a fan of Italian food (pizza, pasta and the like) and on Sunday night found my new favorite restaurant in Togo (before it was Festival de Glaces), but wait, we’re not there yet.
Saturday afternoon was a little glum. It was as though we were all in mourning, holding our breath for the impending separation. We played a game of Bouc to distract us from dwelling on our dwindling time and then went down to the bar, shared two, insanely expensive but heavenly chocolate mousses and drove to the airport. None of us are suckers for long drawn-out emotional goodbyes and so we did our best to make them short and sweet and be on our separate ways. I must say, the fact that my Dad was leaving a couple days later and that I actually left him before he left me made it a whole lot easier for me. I would have felt so sad and lost and lonely had all three of them left at the same time and I had been left alone at the airport. Then I think I would have cried, perhaps not until I had gotten back to my room at Mammys (the brothel/hostel), but the tears would have come. My Dad is a great at lightening sad moments with jokes, though, and so his presence distracted me from my sorrow.
Sunday, April 27th, was Togo’s Independence Day. Dad and I walked to the market to get breakfast. We had to search for a bit, but eventually stumbled upon an egg sandwich stand in the Nigerien quarter of the market. Dad wowed them with a few phrases in Hausa and his knowledge of Nigerien geography and after our customary egg sandwich and coffee for Dad, milo (chocolate) for me we wandered around the slowly awakening market looking for a purple pagne for Mimi. Around nine we walked back to the hotel and then continued on to the Bureau to meet Ashley and take advantage of free internet. Internet was working very slowing, however, and after about two hours we gave up and went to the cheap Lebanese restaurant for lunch where we each (Ashley, Dad and I) had a beef schwarma and a galette de fromage (like a small cheese pizza with no tomato sauce). Dad and I parted ways for the afternoon – he went to the hotel where there is actually high speed wireless (but very expensive) internet and I went back to the bureau to continue wrestling with our slow, but free internet. I was able to chat with Jorge, though, so that was special and worthwhile.
In the evening, Ashley, Natasha (another of the CHAP girls from my Stage) and I walked to the Ibis (the crazy, luxurious hotel we were staying at) to meet my Dad for dinner. He took us to a restaurant called Greenfield that had been recommended to him by a man who was a volunteer in Togo in the sixties or seventies. I had heard of the restaurant, but had never been there; it is now my new favorite restaurant in Togo – it is very modern artsy and colorful and has an amazing menu. So amazing that it took us almost an hour to decide what to order – they have a huge variety of pizzas, pastas, Mexican food – all my favorite foods. We were in heaven. The meal was delicious and they even had a completely separate menu for desserts. Delicious.
Monday morning Dad and I indulged ourselves with two chocolate croissants each and then we went to the Peace Corps Bureau where I had some business to take care of including getting resources on gardening, continuing to bug my APCD about the moringa conference I want to go to in Burkina Faso in July and a visit to the MedUnit to get some effective medicine for the ringworm on my leg. As it turned out, the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer) had mistreated my fungal infection. For some reason (even though it was evident to me and everyone else that it was classic ringworm) she thought it was creeping eruption (the non-fungal infection I had in my thumb a couple of months back) and so she told me to treat it with the same medication. That medication turned my regular, inoffensive ringworm into a volcanic archipelago of oozing sores. When I showed it to her she said, “oh, this isn’t creeping eruption, this is ringworm.” Forgive me, but I felt like saying, “Duh.” So they got me some new medicine that is actually meant for treating ringworm.
As it neared noon, Dad and I had to say goodbye because he wanted to change money and get some bread and cheese from the supermarket for lunch and I was supposedly leaving at eleven for Benin (we didn’t actually leave until 12:30). I was sad, but luckily I was distracted by the presence of five other girls from my stage (by the way, as of Tuesday we are now twelve, an even dozen; one of the girls from my stage ET-ed and flew back to the States on the same flight as Dad. To be perfectly honest, I can’t say I’m sorry. She hated Togo and Togolese people, was frequently rude and condescending towards them and had become somewhat of a liability. One white person is the same as another and so what she did in Togo, might just as well have been me; when she was rude, it was as though we were all being rude and I didn’t particularly appreciate that. I think she made the right decision in choosing to go home because with her attitude and frame of mind she wasn’t helping herself, other volunteers, or the Togolese). But getting back to our goodbyes, I can’t emphasize enough how thankful I am that my Mom, Dad and grandmother didn’t leave me waving goodbye in my village or in the Lome airport, that would have been too tragically sad and upsetting. The trip from Benin is providing a welcome distraction and change of scenery and actually prolonging the surreal tinge to the past couple of weeks because I still have air-conditioning, running water and decent good not self-prepared meals.
Around 12:30, Natasha, Lauren, Helen, Linda and I, plus our APCD, a representative of UNICEF and the driver climbed into a van and headed towards the border with Benin. It was a lovely coastal drive through parts of Togo that I have never visited. The border was a little hectic, but we already had visas and so we just had to get out and get our passports stamped on the Togo side and then again on the Benin side and I was out of country for the first time since I arrived in country last June. Benin, unsurprisingly is a lot like Togo. In fact, sometimes I forget that I am in a different country. Our conference is taking place in a hotel in a large village called Lokossa near the Togo border and about an hour’s drive north from the coast. The people speak French and Ewe and look, sound, dress, act pretty much exactly like Togolese. The Benin volunteers could also be Togo volunteers – we have many of the same experiences, complaints, observations, difficulties, etc. It is really interesting, though, to meet volunteers from another country so similar, and yet subtly different, from our own. There are nine PCVs from Benin at the conference. They are all health volunteers as well and all from essentially the same Stage as us (they arrived in July I believe) and so we have a lot in common and a lot to talk about.
The conference, which is a workshop on the HEARTH method of rehabilitating malnourished children or FARN (Foyer d’Aprentissage et Rehabilitation Nutritionnelle), is the Benin PCVs in-service training and they have homologues with them, but we are homologue-free and thankful for it. FARN was first developed in Haiti to use local resources to improve child nutrition. The idea is that in each and every community there are malnourished children and healthy children. The FARN approach seeks out the healthy children and tries to find a “positive deviant” mother who notwithstanding similar economic challenges and limited resources manages to create well-balanced meals and a healthy environment for her children. FARN takes advantage of this local role-model to teach mothers of malnourished children how to prepare clean nutritious meals for their children. For the most part I am finding it an interesting and worthwhile conference. One of the trainers is from the Peace Corps office in Washington and so the pace is relatively fast and interactive.
Today, Wednesday, we did an interesting exercise in which we created a recipe for an adequately nutritious meal for malnourished children and went to the market, bought the ingredients and made the meal. It was fun. I would like to do a FARN project in one or more of the villages surrounding Avassikpe (meaning – identifying a positive deviant mother and malnourished children and then working with the positive deviant mother to prepare a twelve consecutive daily sessions that simultaneously teach mothers how to prepare nutritious meals with local resources on a local budget (among other information concerning child health and nutrition) and puts malnourished children on the fast-track to good health. During the twelve days of a FARN workshop the positive deviant mother will show mothers of malnourished children how to prepare a well-balanced meal, feed the malnourished children with locally donated resources, and give informational talks on topics such as exclusive breast feeding, good hygiene, good food and water practices, the importance of vaccinations and mosquito nets, etc. I think this approach might be possible in my area, but first I need to get busy on correcting and expanding the baby-weighing.
Because the conference is taking place in the same hotel in which we are lodged and all our meals are prepared here as well, I haven’t seen much of Benin or Lokossa. It is funny because in Togo we hear that Benin is a nicer version of Togo and the Benin volunteers say that they hear that Togo is a nicer version of Benin. I guess it just goes to show that the grass really is greener on the other side. Like I said, Benin seems an awful lot like Togo to me. Tomorrow, though, one of the Benin volunteers is taking us to see some hippos in a river only four kilometers away. That is exciting.
5/1/08
The first day of May. Wow. Happy Birthday Jason!! Today was another day of conferencing. Not only did I learn about FARN, but also about an approach called Care Group in which you give leader women little educational messages that they then pass on to other women in their “care group” and another approach which uses the basic principles of FARN and Positive Deviants to improve the health of pregnant women. All very interesting. I have so many things I want to do – I think I could stay here forever. Just kidding =0).
Our formation finished early and we rode motos out to a small village with some Benin volunteers and then went out in a boat to see hippos. There were actually only two hippos, a mama and a baby, and we only saw them from far away (we didn’t want to make the mama angry), but it was still nice to be out on the lake/river (I’m not sure which).
One of the most enjoyable parts of this whole formation has been the opportunity not only to spend time with people from my stage, but also with the Benin PCVs and exchange stories, experiences and perspectives.
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