October 1st
I would like to preface this blog by saying that I’m still
really happy here and love my village. At his point, I also have a lot of
project ideas I’m really excited about pursuing. I have a lot to be thankful
for and a lot to look forward to.
HOWEVER . . .
So far, I’ve been trying to write my blogs in a manner that
will provide you with a pretty general idea of what my life is like here in
Togo. What I haven’t been doing,
though, is giving a complete account of my feelings and attitudes about
everything.
95% of the time, life is great. Most days I feel like
bottled sunshine and my levels of happiness would probably disgust most people.
However, 5% of the time, it’s very very trying. I guess I
want to write an entry that will give you an idea of how hard this actually is
at times.
Honestly, I don’t find the lifestyle to be that difficult at
all. Electricity is a luxury I have and I know I could get by without it. I’ve
learned ways to satisfy myself food wise - I can make some restaurant worthy
chicken fajitas and pad thai. Not having running water doesn’t bother me. I
actually like how strong my arms are getting from hauling water out of a well.
I’ve gotten used to the transportation system, or lack there of. I feel overall
it’s made me much more patient. And motos are again, awesome, and surprisingly,
not terrifying. Bugs and parasites don’t bother me either. I’ve finally stopped
annihilating the spiders in my house because more just keep coming back. I see
one on the wall the size of my palm and shrug. Most of the things (practically
everything) we “need” in the U.S. are just out of convenience. After being
without them long enough, my missing them has minimized. (Don’t get me wrong,
I’d still kill for air conditioning, pizza delivery, a good beer, and a bubble
bath BUT I’m no longer daydreaming about them.) I’m actually now very content
with what I do have here. Also, compared to most African households, we Peace
Corps volunteers are livin’ the good life.
I no longer find being away from home difficult either. I do
still miss my family and friends very much, but in a way, this is starting to
feel like home. If I weren’t on another continent, I’d probably still be
somewhere far away. The separation was something inevitable I needed to get
used to.. though this is, admittedly, a little drastic. Also, I’ve been able to
keep in touch enough to keep me up-to-date and happy.
What is hard:
Feeling (and being treated) like I’m incompetent.
No matter how much I practice or study, I will never be able
to express myself in French (much less Kabiye) the way I can in English. I get
that. But, when I have a meeting with the Major of my dispensaire to discuss
future projects and sound like a 5th grader, it’s really
discouraging. I have really really great ideas for my community (that I’ll post
once they actually get started.. don’t wanna jump the gun) that I’m really
excited about but can’t explain to anyone why I think they’re so great! Take
something you are really really enthusiastic about that you could talk about for
hours. Now try to condense all your thoughts about it into four sentences that
a third grader is capable of comprehending. If you can’t picture what that
feels like, it’s like you are going to explode - like all my ideas are going to
start bubbling out of my ears because I can’t express them with my mouth.
The midwife I work with is also a very aggressive
individual. I think she gets a lot of joy out of humiliating me. The other day
she met me at the marche and pulled me around by the arm (leaving bruises) and
made me bow to every single man and greet him properly in Kabiye. When I didn’t
do it correctly, she yelled at me and made me do it again from the beginning.
Everyone thought it was hilarious. At work, if she drops something, she snaps
at me and tells me to pick it up like I’m a dog. Right now, I obey. I’ll fetch
and I’ll sit and I’ll stay until I’ve been here long enough to not offend
everyone else by standing up to her. I want to be nice and lay low for a while
until my language skills and reputation are well established. I do not intend
to go for the next two years though being her puppet. (Sometimes, in moments of
weakness, I do yell back at her in English. AND IT FEELS GREAT! She thinks it’s
funny so I know I’m not being offensive.)
My French and even my Kabiye have made huge strides this
past month. As much as people appreciate my attempts at local language though,
it doesn’t keep them from laughing at every mistake I make. It’s the worse when
it’s children laughing at you. And the worst when it’s large crowds of
children. I wouldn’t laugh at you if you tried to speak English! I’d applaud
your effort!
Feeling that no one knows you now, and that no one really
will for the NEXT 2 YEARS.
No one in my village knows my real name is Shea. Or knows
about my family. My education. My friends. Things that I like. Things that I’m
good at. What I think of life. What I want out of the future. Nor do they ever
care to. Or say there’s a few that do care, I still can’t express my ideas in a
relatable way. Life here is just too different. Talking about hopes and dreams
and all the things the world has to offer doesn’t get your fire going here.
Instead it makes me feel like I’m upholding the stereotypical image everyone
has of us rich, privileged Americans.
Never being alone.
In the past two weeks, 5 children have moved into my
compound, making it 8 total. School starts in a week so kids seem to be popping
out of the ground like corn stalks. I had finally gotten used to the 3 living
here. What tiny sliver of peace I had before, is now completely gone. There’s
never a moment of silence. Ever. There’s always kids crying, fighting, laughing
and trying to get into my house. When I don’t let them in, they peer their
little faces into my windows or throw rocks at my door. It’s so exhausting and
I’ve started yelling at them, even though it always makes me feel guilty. All
hours of the day, people knock on the door and start a monologue in French. Projects
they want me to do, things they want me to buy, or more often, just to say hi
and see what I’m up to. If I’m taking a nap, I’m not for long. Not answering
the door just means they’ll yell outside and bang on the door until I do. I’ve
tried taking my hammock to a secluded place for some alone time, but people just
follow me. I’ve started running in the morning, but have to stop and saluer
people every 5 minutes. There’s literally NO ESCAPE.
Being a collector’s item rather than a person.
When I first got to village and everyone wanted to be my
friend, I felt very welcome and optimistic about time here. Now, I think every
single person wants something from me, even if it’s just to say they are
friends with me. Every time I leave village, I get a list of things people want
me to bring back. Bread, jewelry, pagne, yams. One woman came to my house a
while back to say she was staying in my village for a couple of weeks and
wanted friends. She asked for my number so she could invite me to dinner.
Initial thoughts were “That’s so sweet! Of course I’ll be your friend!” and gave
her my contact info. She’s called me 6 times a day since. Twice in the morning,
early afternoon, and at night. She drops in on me and asks me to buy her pagne
so we can have matching dresses. She told me she has a French friend in Kara so
now she has two “blanche” (white) friends to tell everyone about. She left
village and I stopped answering her calls. Now she calls me on different
phones. I’m kind of at a loss for how to proceed.
Not getting attached to anything.
I’m learning to not like anything too much because something
will eventually happen to it. The other day I took my dishes outside to wash
them. My neighbor inspected them and said they were really dirty and he needed
to show me how to clean them better. I gladly accepted the help. He even brought
me a steel sponge because he said it’d be easier to get food off the pan. He
grabs my largest sautéing pan and goes to town scrubbing off the tephlon (not
sure about spelling) coating because he’s convinced the black part is dirt. “Le
noir n’est pas bon. Ce n’est pas bon.” (The black isn’t good. It’s not good.) I
tried to explain to him that, “The black is good. It keeps food from sticking
to it. The pan is from the U.S. It’s not like pans here. It’s supposed to be
black.” He continued to argue with me and scrub away. I had to stand there for
15 minutes as he ruined my nicest pan. Every interjection I made was followed by
rejection. He would not give my pan back until only silver was left. He then
proceeded to go to every person in our compound and show them how clean he got
it. Usually I can handle feeling stupid here. It’s part of the language barrier
and integration into a new culture that will all get better with time. What I
do no appreciate is being made to feel like an idiot while you ruin my things;
especially because those are at least one thing I know more about than you! I
used that pan this morning. It ruined my pancakes because I couldn’t get them
unstuck…
Yesterday my language tutor called and cancelled because she
was sick. We were supposed to make breakfast tacos that morning, so I walked
them over to her house so she could still have them (I mean.. I love when
people bring me things when I’m sick). During our follow up lesson today she
said she asked if she could keep the tupperware I brought it to her in. I said
I’d actually prefer to have it back, and she basically said no. I hauled it
here all the way from the states. It took up valuable space in my luggage and I
want it back!
Also, I bought beautiful pagne and gave it to my courteriere
with a drawing of how I wanted it designed. My favorite pattern so far. I’ve
been waiting on this dress for a week and was so excited to go by today to see
it. She decided to implement her own ideas and make the ugliest dress I have
ever seen. Total let down.
I realize these examples are really really trivial. It’s a
pan. It’s Tupperware. And it’s a dress made from 2 dollars worth of fabric. I
have another pan. Mom, can you send me more Tupperware? And there’s literally
thousands of other pagnes. There’s just very little “things” I can take
pleasure in here. Which I think is a good thing. Pleasure shouldn’t come from
things. But I’m not Thoreau or Buddha just yet and the reality is that when my
things get ruined or taken, it still bothers me. The longer I’m here, the more
I think that will subside. Also, with everything else mentioned above happening
in the last couple weeks, this was just icing on the cake.
I’m really looking forward to the break I have coming
up. We have IST (in service
training) with all the other volunteers next week and then afterwards I’m heading
to Lome for a few days to work out Visa stuff. I’ll be out of village for
almost two weeks. I know I’ll miss it after just a few days, but right now I’m
ready for a breather and to spend some time with a large group of Americans.
I hate complaining, but I also don’t want to provide a false
picture of it being just sunshines and rainbows over here. I want to be honest
and thorough.
Again, this is not an account of my daily attitudes. With
this accumulation of events, I’m just suffering from a tiny puncture to my
spirit. Writing this out has provided the first couple sutures, and tomorrow
I’ll be fine. Today, I’ll eat some Nutella, listen to some Fleet Foxes, and
drink a glass of terrible boxed wine.
Cheers,
SHEA
(because that’s my real name. and I like it.)
