So I’ve been at post for a little over a month.
Not too many
exciting things have happened since I last posted a blog. I am starting to get
the hang of things though, so I figured I’d write you a brief update on my day-to-day
living. Forgive me if I repeat
something I may have already mentioned. Just trying to provide a complete
picture.
Utilities:
I do have electricity. Although it’s not very reliable. Goes
out every time it rains and sometimes even for no reason.
I use a gas camp stove for cooking, but I plan to get a
charbon (charcoal stove) soon for meals that take longer. There’s a gas
shortage in country, so once your tank runs out, there’s a good chance you
won’t be able to refill it or replace it. I have one tank, and two years so I
figured I’d start on a plan B for cooking early on.
I do not have running water. There’s a well in my compound
that I use. A bag (that looks like it’s made of recycled tire rubber) is
attached to a rope that I throw 20 feet down and then haul back up. It usually
takes 5 bags to fill one bucket. It was a huge hassle getting water every time
I wanted tea in the morning, needed to do dishes, take a shower, etc. So, I
bought a large trashcan with a lid to keep in my kitchen that I fill up every
so often so that I don’t have retrieve water every time I need it. I also fill
buckets when it rains and recycle that water. The water I drink, I run through
a filter provided by the Peace Corps and then add a couple drops of bleach to
it.
I’m sure it could be inferred, but just to specify, I do my
laundry by hand in my compound. Underwear I have to do inside and hang them so
no one can see them. There’s a superstition here that if anyone else touches
your underwear, they can put a spell on them.
I have a squat latrine (bathroom) that’s outside my house
and across my compound. It’s also home to probably a thousand mosquitoes. No
joke. I keep a container with a lid next to my bed known as a “chamber pot” to use at
night when I don’t want to unlock my door and venture outside.
I still only use the outdoor shower space I discovered
during post visit. I’ll probably never use the one inside my house because despite
being cleaned, it still smells terrible. And the drain doesn’t work.
I burn my trash behind my house. A lot of times people look
through it just out of curiosity. Sometimes they also take things.. Anything I
don’t want to be found goes in the latrine, just in case. Sorry, Mother Earth.
Food:
As far as cooking goes, it depends on what I can find in my
marche. Right now, the closest one is in Ketao (about 10k away) on Wednesdays.
I can always find dry pasta, beans, rice, oil, tomato paste and things of that
nature. Produce is more limited. Not the avocado and mango paradise I was
originally hoping for. So far, I’ve really only been able to find tomatoes,
onions, carrots, cabbage, and pimante (hot peppers). On the occasion I make it
to Kara (35k away), I can bring back pineapple, apples, lettuce, eggplant, and
cucumbers. I usually eat pretty well for the three or 4 days after the marche,
then live off starches and tomato sauce until the next one. I try to buy eggs
if I can find them, but I don’t get nearly enough protein. I haven’t started
buying meat in the marches yet. Still a little skeptical…There’s also a frozen food store in
Kara I need to check out. I’m sure I’ll develop a better routine with time. I’ll
also be able to go to the huge market in Benin on Tuesdays once I grab my
passport form Lome. Hopefully there will be more options there.
“Fast food” wise, it’s really easy to find street food. In
my village I can usually get coliko (fried yams), watchi (beans and rice), soja
(like tofu), spaghetti, riz de graz (rice with fat), and an assortment of fried
bread balls. Pretty much the same for all of the places I’ve been so far in
Togo. With my neighbors or at some of the cafes around, I can get pate and fou
fou. Pate is a flavorless flour (corn?) mixture with the consistency of dough
that I’ve only had with gumbo sauce (sticky green sauce with okra). It has the
consistency of snot, but tastes pretty good depending on who makes it. Fou Fou
is delicious. It’s also a dough-like food, but made from boiled yams. It comes
with various sauces, but my favorite is tomato sauce with goat. You eat both
with your hands. In Kara, there are a couple French bars where you can get
pizza and burgers, but they’re nothing like the food back home. Maybe in a few
months I’ll be desperate enough to think differently.
Transportation:
I walk everywhere in my village. I also plan to buy a bike
soon to get to the neighboring villages. The one we had for stage we had to
give back.. womp womp. For now, outside my village, I mainly use zeds
(motorcycles). The Peace Corps issued us helmets that I haul around pretty much
everywhere. When you grab a zed, any big belongings you have will go in front
of the driver, and then you’ll hop on the back. Catch is.. you can’t touch the
driver. You’re either hands-free and balancing or holding on the bar under the back
of the seat for dear life. You have no idea how fast the driver is going (I
have yet to see a single odometer that works) and you’re dodging around pot
holes and flying over bumps in the road. I always feel like I’m in a racing
video game. It can be scary at times (especially when your butt loses contact
with the seat), but I LOVE IT. Riding motos is one of my favorite things about
Togo. I also feel like a total badass walking around carrying the sweet helmet
we were given.
When you’re traveling too far to take a moto, you take a car
or bush taxi. I’ve been in cars where they put up to 5 people in the back seat
and 3 in the front (not including the driver…). Personal space isn’t an issue
here. I’ve been on a couple of laps already. Also, each car looks like it will
fall apart at any given second. I’ve been in several that have broken down mid
journey. Once, I had to hold the door shut as we traveled because it wouldn’t
latch on its own. Another time, we
had to compression start in reverse! It’s also no surprise to get leaks in the
roof or see the road flying by through the holes in the floorboard. At least
the drivers are considerate enough to hang air fresheners… usually in place of
the rear view mirror.
Bush taxis are the same story. I’ve only taken one bush taxi
at this point and it was with 8 other PCVs, so it was slightly more comfortable
than what it would be normally.
Luckily, when I travel from Kara to Lome (a 7 to 8 hour trek),
there’s a bus that goes directly from a station in Kara. That’s the furthest
I’d ever have to travel, so I’m glad I have that option.
Community Activities:
I go to the dispensaire about three days a week. Mondays are
CPN days (pre-natal consultations). I’ll go in from 8-11 and help fill about
paper work during the women’s check ups. Thursdays are CPC (infant
vaccinations) and baby weighing. I’ll also go in 8-11 and help fill out the
vaccination cards on file at the hospital. Other than that, there’s not too
much for me to do. I’ll go sit and hang out with the staff a couple hours on
the other days, but generally feel pretty useless. I’ll start working on my own
projects with time.
When I can, I go to the Catholic church on Sundays.
Afterwards, I’ll usually grab food with someone and then drink Tchouk at my
homologue’s house.
Other than that, I usually just walk around my village to
saluer (greet) people. Sometimes I’ll be invited places for Tchouk or food.
I’ve hung out with the courtiere (seamstress) a few times at her house and
spent some time with one of the street food vendors.
Mostly, I spend a lot of time in my house or with my
neighbors. Lots of reading, guitar learning, and yoga. Needs to be more
studying of French and Kabiye…
Other notable things to mention about Africa life:
Everyone asks you… for everything. It’s kinda funny in the
beginning. But it’s everyday. All the time. People started calling dibs on my
stuff already for when I leave. It’s very frustrating. I can’t tell who
genuinely wants to be my friend and who just wants things from me. Every time I
come back from the market, people ask what I brought them. Every time I take
tea or coffee to work, someone asks to drink it. Mostly it’s just a joke and
you can laugh it off, but other times, people are serious. I’m also
accumulating a very long list of people who have asked me to take them to
America. I think I’m at about 10 now…
Everyone tries to sell you…everything. Every car or moto you
pass, the driver hisses (yes, actually hisses) at you and asks where you’re
going. Every marche mama yells at you to buy from them. If you stop to look at
pagne, they’re going to start picking patterns out for you and hovering over
you. It’s like when you walk through a shopping mall and the people at the
booths in the center have a 10 second catch phrase to get your attention and
explain why you need to be interested in their product.. but times 100 and
every single place you go. It’s like I’m walking around with a giant dollar
sign flashing above my head. Sometimes people carrying things on their head
will just come stand by you and look at you awkwardly. It’s like they’re
expecting me to all of a sudden have an immediate desire for bread and they
want to wait until it happens so they’re the one to sell it to me. Children are usually the worst about
it.
I don’t need the weather channel when I have Togolese
friends. They can all predict the weather… like it’s a science. All I’ve picked
up so far is that when it gets really really hot, that means it’s going to rain
sometime in the near future. The hotter it gets, the bigger the storm that's a brewin'.
The children here are very destructive. Babies are so silent
and peaceful tied to their mothers back, but then it’s like once they’re too
big to be strapped to the back, they enter this demolition phase. The kids in
my compound have come into my house a few times. At first I didn’t mind, until
they started making it a habit. Even when my door is closed, they stand outside
the screen and peer inside and yell until I come to open it. I finally told
them when it’s open, they’re welcome. When it’s closed, it means I’m busy or
tired. It didn’t help at all. I do still leave it open on occasion. Last week a
girl came in and started playing with a deck of cards I had. She took them out
of the box and started throwing them all of the room and bending them and
biting them. Finally I took them away. Then she found markers and I gave her a
piece of paper to draw on. She decided my chairs and walls would be more
fitting. And they were permanent. Now I can only let them in when I can keep
them under complete supervision.. which I usually don’t feel like dealing with.
Sorry kids..
There’s apparently tons of different fetes (parties) that vary
between cultures and regions. In my village, there’s a whipping fete, where boys
are publicly lashed across the left arm with a rhino-skin whip to signify that
they’re now men. There’s scarring fetes for the different ethnicities. Fetes
where boys are publicly circumcised (sorry if anyone thinks that's inappropriate to share.. just trying to be thorough). Funeral fetes. And I’m sure many more I
have yet to hear about.
A couple weeks ago, I visited Kelsey with some other PCVs.
She lives in Bassar and in that area they have Yam Fest! It’s a fete to
celebrate that yams are in season. It wasn’t quite as elaborate as I had pictured,
but there was a huge yam marche and a traditional tribal fire dance. Everyone sat in circle underneath
a huge tree in the middle of the street. They started a fire and men came out
in costumes. They had pagne skirts, horse tail whip things, and their shins
were covered with metal pieces that clanked together (I might have taken one).
They took turns walking across the fire and then danced around it for a few
hours. We were able to sit in the front row and a few of us got up and
participated in the dancing.
I got a weave! Because.. why not? Passing time before meeting other volunteers, Iain and I walked around a hair shop. The woman working said if I bought one, she'd call up her hair dresser to come put it in immediately. It was 7pm at night, pretty late for Togolese standards. I figured it was a once in a life time opportunity, so I agreed. It hurt so bad!! They braided my short hair into corn rows and then sewed in the extensions. They were about 18 inches long and actually looked really good... until they greased it. I ended up taking it out the next day for several reasons: 1) Most importantly, we were going swimming and I wasn't allowed to get it wet. I was not not going to jump in the pool.. 2) It gave me a terrible headache. I couldn't even sleep with it. 3) I wasn't a fan of looking like a mermaid. It was cool to do for a day, but it was more like a Halloween costume that needed to be retired after one night out.
Also, I have my first intestinal parasite! (named Mildred.. Thanks Frieds!) Amoebas. Not the
most fun thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I’m getting meds sent to me this week to kill ‘em
off. First of many, I’m sure. And I’m 95% sure I have bed bugs… which are even
more uncomfortable than my new intestinal friend.
So there you go. Not the most thrilling news, but hopefully
you’re getting a better idea of what my life is like here in Togo.
If you want to know more details or have questions, shoot me
an email: shea_flynn@utexas.edu.
One month down. Twenty-three to go.
Koumealo
