VIDEO: Care Group Formation

This is long overdue, but I'm home for the holidays and finally have enough internet to upload video!

This is from my Care Group Formation this past June. I wrote a blog about the actual event back in July, but who doesn't love videos? This also has the results achieved after the initial community follow-up.

It's in French because I made it for a presentation.. but I'll write the translation below:

"Care Group", it's what?

A "Care Group" is a community based strategy for improving coverage and behavior change.

It was developed by Dr. Pieter Ernst with World Relief Mozambique and has been used by several development organizations.

It puts accent on the formation of teams of volunteer women who represent, serve, and promote health within 8 to 10 households each time.

Each month, one female leader and one male leader from each neighborhood come to the local clinic for a training.

After the meeting, they are responsible for sharing the information with the men and model women in their neighborhood.

The model women will give this information to their 10 households. She will use a communication tool and a survey after each visit to evaluate the knowledge of the family.

Kémérida's Model:
Director of Project --> Male leaders (12)/ Female leaders (13) --> Men/ Model women (78) --> 10 households (780 Total)

Care Group Formation, Theme: HIV/AIDS

3 Days, June 12th-14th

103 Participants

Day 1: Clinic (Head Nurse + Birth Attendant) --> Male/Female Leaders

* --> = "sharing of information"

Project Description and Goals
Behavior Change
Good Communication (passed a drawing on with fingers in a line of 25 people, compared end result to original drawing, distortion used to represent that the more people involved in the transfer of information = the greater chance for error)
HIV/AIDS
Role Play

Day 2: Clinic (Head Nurse + Birth Attendant) --> Male/Female Leaders --> Model Women

How To Do A Survey
Self-Confidence
Using Communication Tools

Day 3: Clinic (Head Nurse + Birth Attendant) --> Male/Female Leaders --> Model Women --> Households

Home Visits
Evaluations and Certificates
71
Results:

Collected from 10 of 13 neighborhoods
71 of 78 model women

739 Home Visits
717 were capable of naming the 3 modes of transmission
722 were capable of using the communication tool correctly
638 were capable of listing the services that are available for HIV

4745 people in total.


Ideally, it will have the same impact
each month
for each subject

Together, we can be the light of our community.



Music:

Rusted Root - Send Me on My Way
Song written by a participant that she taught everyone else!




Thanks for watching!

Hopefully this is the beginning of some long-overdue posting.



Happy Holidays,


Kumealo

Ca va aller.

June 12, 2014

“Ca va aller.”

It will go--

A phrase I’ve heard quite often during my last year in Togo (TODAY’S A YEAR!!).

Usually only expressed when things are looking like they’re going to go horribly awry.

I heard it during my World Malaria Day event when 30 minutes after it was supposed to start, still no one had showed up.

Ca va aller. = It might suck, but it will be over soon.

I hear it when I’m stressed out because of the general acceptance of lack of planning for anything here.

“Major, j’ai besoin de avoir une reunion avec tous les ASCs avant je vais partir aux Etats Unis pour disctuer la selection des femmes lumieres.”

“Ce n’est pas possible. Mais ca va aller.”

(“Major, I need to have a meeting with all the community health workers before I go home to the States to discuss the selection of Femme Lumieres.”

“This is not possible. But it will go.”)

= I’m not going to tell you how it will get done. Or when. Or by who. But somehow things will just work out.

Naturally, when my anxiety level here in Togo was hitting an all time high in planning for my 103 person HIV/AIDs formation that was also meant to establish a four tier structure for getting a health education to over 700 househoulds, “Ca va aller” did not bring me a lot of comfort…

I took it more as,

Ca va aller = Your expectations for this are way too high. It’s impossible for them to be met and you’re going to learn the hard way…

That assumption was completely incorrect..

I don’t think a single other day in my Peace Corps service, past or future, can top this one.

Today was Day 1 of my Care Group formation and the “do or die” moment for the vision I’ve been harboring for the remainder of my time here in Togo.

I’ll cut the suspense -- It DID.

As you can probably tell from my general interpretation of “Ca va aller”, I’m guilty of not having given my village and homologues enough credit. I’ve had this fear of utter failure looming above my head for the last month as I finalized the plans for this formation. Between the complaints about the long hours and lack of money, compiled with the reality that my village was not the “driving force” behind this project, I was convinced it would all fall apart.

When first planning my Care Group, based on the number of ménages (households) in my village, it was intended to consist of 73 femme lumieres (1 for each 10 households of 734) and 15 animatrices and 15 animateurs (1 male and female representative from each neighborhood/surrounding village).

The number of names turned into me after selecting the group members accounted for 67 femme lumieres, 14 animateurs, and 14 animatrices.

For the formation, I prepared the materials for the 28 leaders and 60 of the femme lumieres, assuiming even that was too many. Of the 95 names I was given, I expected maybe 50 to show.

97 people registered for the formation this morning.

72 femme lumieres came. Not only more than I’d prepared for, but more than I’d accounted for in the final tabulation of group numbers. It was only 1 shy of the original number I needed! And it turned out she only just couldn’t come to the first day. She planned on attending the rest of the formation.

14 animateurs also came, along with 13 animatrices. Again. The one who was absent had an excuse and had every intention of attending the next two days.

That’s essentially perfect attendance. That exceeds perfect attendance if you go by my original number. 

Not to mention half these woman had to bring their still-breastfeeding children and a quarter of them had to walk over 3 miles.

Ignoring my insufficient materials, I assembled red folders with handouts for all of the femme lumieres, green folders for the animateurs, and blue folders for the animatrices. Each including a notebook and pen.

Our day was scheduled to start with a game or ice-breaker. I had a game in mind that we played successfully, but that wasn’t what got the formation off to a good start.

Raisha, one of my best friends in village that attended a Peace Corps national women’s conference in February, was supposed to do a “Confiance en Soi” (Self-Confidence) presentation with the women on Day 2. She showed up early this morning ready to work, confused about the dates. Turns out she had written an entire song for the group about the light of the Femme Lumiere. It’s beautiful. And catchy. And very African-woman spirit-like (I don’t know how to explain that any other way.. you’d have to live here).

She started teaching it to everyone and my entire being just overwhelmed with pride.

I felt like bottled sunshine. Her energy and spirit absolutely amaze me.

All the women started catching on and soon, we are running in a Congo line, clapping and chanting.

The rest of the morning’s sessions were cake with the energy that provided.

We covered the description and goals of the project – for the Care Group in general and the formation specifically, the roles of responsibilities of each person, and the steps in behavior change. We broke for lunch and picked up in the afternoon with how future monthly meetings will work.

Just the animateurs and animatrices remained. The group of 27 was much less overwhelming than the one of 97 from the morning sessions.

We did our first group health session afterwards by using 2 hours to cover HIV/AIDS:

We played the elephant and lions games I explained in a previous health club blog.

Did a Vrai ou Faux (True or False) activity about the transmission of HIV.

Had the participants categorize different behaviors as “Pas de risque” (No risk), “Risque faible” (Weak risk), et “Risque élévé” (High risk). Here we used examples like ”holding hands” and “eating with a person with HIV” to address some of the discrimination that exists here against people living with HIV/AIDS.

Did a proper condom demonstration.

And covered the services available to the people of my village concerning HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment.

Tomorrow, the animatrices and animateurs will be responsible for sharing this information with the 73 femme lumieres. Who will then take it to the 734 households.

WE ARE GETTING THIS INFORMATION TO 736 HOUSEHOLDS.

Just a side note:

Imagine the potential this form of information sharing has?!?!

I can’t take credit for the Care Group structure. It was created by the something or other in Mozambique and I’m one of several volunteers to start one here in Togo.

As far as I know, though, Kemerda’s is now the biggest in Togo.

More on it’s future (hopefully) success stories to come.

Back to today’s events.

I had to leave the formation 15 minutes early to make it to he next village to print all the materials I was short of for tomorrow. The women who work at the two different printing boutiques have become great friends of mine through all the preparation it has taken me (and all the business I have given them) for this formation. One even told me she was buying me a present for all of my work.

When I returned to village all my neighbor kids helped carry my things and went with me to the pump to get water for my much-needed shower. One girl carried it back for me on her head (she makes it look so much easier than it really is), and I skipped back, hand-in-hand with 2 of the other children.

Currently, I’m writing this, eating an Italian grilled fish concoction that will rock your socks, and drinking and well-deserved glass of red wine.

Again, I can’t picture a more perfect day to embody all the best moments of being a Peace Corps volunteer. Between satisfying work, village relationships, and knowing how to make the most of your alone time, it can’t get much better than this.

Remember this is following a month long rut of self-doubt and doom. And it’s inevitable there will be more. Hell, it could happen tomorrow (this thing’s got two more days..). But for now, I’ll take pleasure in reminding myself that this is why I’m here. And this will be what I remember when I leave.

That.. plus all the great footage I’ve been able to get of this project. Since the formation has to be in Kabiye (75% of the women don’t speak French), I planned everything to where I trained all the facilitators last week in French. Now I get to sit back with my camera while my incredibly motivated homologues kick some ass in Kabiye.

Now that most of my enthusiasm has spilled out on the page (web?), I expect my follow-ups throughout this formation to be rather short and sweet.

(I’m sure you’re hoping so. I can’t pretend I’m unaware of the discouraging length of most of my blogs..)

I’ll continue this post after tomorrow’s activities….

Now, more optimistically, I’ll take this haunting phrase as

“Just have faith and it will all be fine. Sometime it will even be surprisingly great.”

Ca va aller,

Kumealo

Journée Mondiale de Lutte Contre le Paludisme

Journée Mondiale de Lutte Contre le Paludisme

April 25^th is World Malaria Day. 

For my health club at the CEG, April was our Malaria month. 

Week one, we reviewed how malaria is transmitted. Week 2, prevention methods. And Week 3, why it’s important to receive proper treatment. 

Week 4, we painted a mural, planned a skit, and on (what was supposed to be Friday, April 25^th) hosted a community event to celebrate World Malaria Day. 

This would be their first presentation and they’d get to wear their new health club shirts (courtesy of Wharton Rotary Club). 

It went.. well. But I definitely learned a lot about event planning in West Africa..

This thing was planned to a “T”. I don’t know where that expression comes from, but it’s appropriate here. 

LESSON #1: The more you have planned, the more you have to go wrong.

Besides prepping the health club, I had a few more things up my sleeve (not really sure where that expression comes from either… magicians maybe?) 

I had bought tons of needles and thread to make a bed net repairing station. Complete with a sign, illustrated with pictures and why repairing your bed net is important. 

I asked the dispensaire to borrow their buckets and key to the pump for water to set up a net washing station. Also complete with a sign, illustrated with pictures and why washing your bed net is important. 

I even bought string to tie up in between all the trees so that people could hang their nets to dry in the shade (direct sunlight is bad for them). Plus tape that they could write their names on and use to label their nets so they didn’t get mixed up. 

I made small demographic sheets to give to the ASCs (community health workers) so that they could help me count the number of people attending. Each would have one sheet and be responsible for the people attending from their quartier (neighborhood). This would also give me an idea of how the event location related to the event audience. 

I planned to buy a trashcan worth of tchouk (that’s a lot). Every person that brought a bed net would get a ticket for a free calabash. It provided motivation and allowed me to count the number of bed nets brought. I’d simply pick up the tickets from the tchouk lady after the event. 

I planned to give my health club kids questions to ask the community after the presentation was over. If they got the questions right, they got a ticket to go in a drawing. After 30 minutes, we would take the tickets and draw for prizes. This way I could see how many people took away the important information from the event. 

I had spoken with the director of the CEG 2 weeks prior to the event to see if we could host the event on the actual Africa Malaria Day – April 25^th. If not, we’d have it Saturday, April 26^th. 

I was told we couldn’t have it April 26^th because that was a day reserved for killing cows (the fete du boeuf mentioned in my last blog post: Fetes on Fetes on Fetes). The director said he’d be willing to move devoirs (homework sessions) from that afternoon to a different time so we could have our event then. 

Great. All the preplanning was complete. Time for execution. 

I printed and sent out invitations to all the notable people in village and told the ASCs (community health workers) to spread the word. 

If only it had been that simple…

When I returned the Monday before the Friday of the event to remind the director, he had completely forgotten. (Reminders, calendars, scheduling notebooks, those aren’t really a thing here..) He told me they scheduled a BEPC (middle school exit exam) practice that afternoon and couldn’t cancel it. And Saturday was, of course, already out of the picture because of the cow party. He brought up the next Monday, but that would require moving devoirs again. He finally suggested Wednesday, April 30^th. There’s no school Wednesday afternoons so it wouldn’t have any scheduling conflicts (well.. ideally anyway)

I was a bit worried that it was market day, but he assured me if we started inviting people this week, every one could plan there market time around the event.

LESSON #2: Never. Ever. Have an event on market day. 

I “knew” that. But didn’t really “know” that until the day of the event. We’ll get to why in a bit. 

I spoke with my homologue and we decided to have it at noon. Just when kids got out of morning classes so that the health club could stick around for their presentation before continuing on with their day. We also figured noon was early enough that people could go to the market afterwards.

I asked him if I needed to print new invitations and he said not to worry about it. He would inform the people of interest about the changes. 

LESSON #3: If you’re making changes to written, distributed information. Write it and distribute again. Word of mouth is great at the moment, but when people forget what they talked about 2 days ago, they read whatever is right in front of them. 

I continued on with my week. The health club got more practice time for their skit and I finished some outlines on the mural. 

The original Friday date came and went, with everything in place for the next Wednesday. 

After church on Sunday several people stopped me to stay they came by the CEG Friday but no one was there. I apologized profusely and explained the new date and the reason for the change. They said they understood and they’d come out on Wednesday.

LESSON #3: If people make the effort once, they’re not going to do it again. It’s like the boy who cried wolf. But they only needed once false alarm to be too wary about the second one to make the trek.. especially in the midday sun. I’ll jump to the conclusion: they didn’t show. 

I set a time with my homologue to meet up Wednesday for set up. Event was at “noon” so we’d meet at 11am. The music guys would be there by 11:30. Class would get out at noon and the dispensaire would close at noon, so by the time people showed and we get the desks out of the classroom, it’d be more like 12:30 by the time we started. 

LESSON #4: Everyone is late. To everything. 

Another thing I “knew”, but didn’t really “know” until this event. 

I show up at 11am with my buckets and baskets, full of nervous excitement. I figured my homologue would be 10-15 min late so I’d do what I could without him. That took all of 5 minutes. I really needed help hanging the string in the trees because I was too short. 

11:30. No sign of him. 11:45. Nothing. No music guys either. 

Ben shows up at noon. While kids are already leaving school. Music guys show up at 12:15 to set up. And we are done setting up the desks outside by 12:45. Dispensaire staff shows up at 1. 

So an hour later, where’s our audience?

Because they certainly weren’t at the school. 

I had 35 faithful, blue outfitted, health club kids there and two adorable little old women with their bug nets in hand. 

Even the community health workers (ASCs) were absent - the people who were supposed to come help me keep track of the population. Though, I guess it would have been pointless since there wasn't exactly one to be kept track of..

I think the most disappointing thing was that none of my close friends in village came. If I can't expect the people I spend the most time with, who know my efforts better than anyone else, to care about my work, how can I can get anyone else to?

LESSON #5: Know the soccer schedule. Apparently there was a game at 4pm that day. So.. everyone we expected to go to the market after our event, went during it instead so they’d be back for the game. 

LESSON #6: Know the Togolese holidays. May 1st, Premiere Mai, is a HUGE holiday in Togo. The day immediately following our event. People were gearing up for that and had no interest in attending a malaria “party” when they’d have a real party the very next day. 

The universe had conspired to make Wednesday, April 30^th, to be THE ABSOLUTE WORST DAY to plan a community event in my village. Between the market, soccer game, and the day before a holiday, it’s no surprise the turnout was so poor. 

LESSON #7: No one tells the Yovo (foreigner) anything. IF I HAD KNOWN ALL OF THOSE THINGS I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN DUMB ENOUGH TO PLAN AN EVENT FOR THAT DAY. I was already skeptical about market day. I certainly wasn’t on an event suicide mission. 

It’s like when church is cancelled and I show up anyway. Or when I hear drums one night and the next morning people ask why I missed the fete. Or I show up to work at the dispensaire and the staff asks why I missed the polio vaccinations the day before. I am not God and all knowing. Nor am I Togolese. YOU GOTTA TELL ME THESE THINGS, PEOPLE.

Despite the poor turnout, the event went as well as anyone could have hoped. My homologue gave a brief introduction about why we were having this gathering. My health club performed their skit and presented their mural. The major of the dispensaire gave a causerie on malaria and I got to wonder around and take pictures. Plus, with so few people, everyone got free tchouk!

In the end we had about 40 people show up -- some of the other school kids who had left returned, a few parents of the health club students showed up late, and every one within earshot of the microphone being used at the school walked over to see what was going on. 

We washed 10 nets that day and I personally repaired 3. 

It wasn’t the “party” I was hoping for, but it was something. I really wanted it to be a huge success and something that my village would adopt for every annual African Malaria Day. I guess those expectations were a little too high. 

LESSON #8: Celebrate the small victories. 

Really I was just worried about my kids. They had worked so hard. They had these snazzy new shirts that made them the envy of every kid at school. And they painted this amazing mural and planned a hilarious skit. I just wanted them to feel like what they had learned really mattered and be proud of presenting it to a big group of people. 

In the end, I think they really really enjoyed the experience. Even the kids that act like they’re too cool for the club (though they show up every Wednesday) turned out to be some of the club’s biggest assets that day. They asked to keep the shirts for the holiday the next day and I agreed (The shirts are property of the school, not the kids. That way as the health club continues each year, they won’t have to have a Peace Corps volunteers to buy them new shirts). 

That’s when they planned their surprise for the Premiere Mai parade (also in my last blog: Fetes on Fetes on Fetes). 

Things here aren’t always going to turn out like I expect. Or ever like I expect. 

It’s easy to tell yourself that, but it doesn’t mean you don’t still experience the disappointment when that proves to be true. 

I feel that’s one of the biggest challenges of Peace Corps service -- comparing what you want the results of your efforts to be to what they actually turn out to be, and accepting that there’s almost always going to be a deficit. 

But surprises by my health club, having people beam with gratitude at the one big hole in their bed net being repaired, and watching teenage Togolese boys, who don’t seem to have a sense of responsibility for anything, man a bed net washing station without being asked are the things you don’t expect. 

And the things that make it all worthwhile.

(And I've been sick in the med unit for 3 days with time to do THIS. Finally, some visuals to bring life to all these words...)

Thanks again to the Wharton Rotary Club for their contributions after my presentation back in March. Their support bought the supplies for the mural and the shirts for the kids. (If any of you read this, my mom should have emailed you a picture…)

To the little things! (a cliché phrase that is often oh-so-true)

Kumealo

FETES ON FETES ON FETES: Part I

May 3rd

So there’s been a lot going on in my village for the last month. Lots of occasions for partying. Initially, I wrote one blog describing all of them. But. It was 6 pages long.

Thus, here is Part I – fetes unique to my village.

If you have the time to kill, read it along with Part II – a national fete and one in a neighboring village.

If you’re a bit occupied. Digest it as two pieces…

FETES ON FETES ON FETES: Part I

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

(previously sleeping girl fumbles out of her room and answers the door)

“The party has started!”

“What party?”

“The party of cows.”

So this conversation wasn’t in English ..but this is a real instance (occurring in a quite literal French translation) that happened when my homologue woke me up from a Saturday nap about 2 weeks ago. 

Now, I can’t speak for the entire country of Togo, but based on my experience in the Kabiye village of Kemerida, people here like to party.

I’ve already written blogs about Hiling (the huge coming of age fete for Kabiye men in which they take part in whipping duels) and Bonne Annee.

But turns out there are several more celebrations I can add to that list with an account from first hand experience. Instead of doing separate blogs for each, I figured I’d give you a big summary right here:

Fete du boeuf

Or party of the beef. Also known as Fete de vache. Party of cows.

When the father of a wife dies, her husband is required to buy her a cow at some point in the future to honor him. This could be up to 5 years later depending on how long it takes the husband to save money. He can also buy a sheep in the grandfather’s honor if the outlook of affording a cow isn’t too promising.

Each weekend in March and April is reserved for a specific quartier (neighborhood). During that neighborhood’s designated weekend, all the cows bought for the deceased who lived there are prepared. Saturday night the family (not a 4-6 person family, but more in the range of 30-40), along with all their friends and neighbors parade their cow through the village.

This is about the time Ben showed up at my house.

I quickly changed, grabbed these metal finger clinker things I was told to buy and stepped out of my compound. People were running down the street and yelling at me to hurry. Drums were beating and metal was tapping in the direction they were headed. I followed them with my eyes, which found their way to a mass of people running down the road leading to the chief’s compound. They were chasing a cow…

So, I ran too.

When I caught up, women were waving tree branches back and forth and miming how to use my clinker things. Once I got the pieces situated on my fingers, they encouraged me to dance/run with the mass behind the animal.

The cow had a string tied around its neck and one to each leg. Men holding them were running alongside it, keeping the animal supervised. Occasionally the cow would charge, the crowd would scatter, and the men maintaining its constraints would tighten their grip.

Following the parade as it turned down a hill, you could see another mass of people coming straight towards us, chasing another cow. I learned there were four cow parades going on at the same time that night. Four cows had been bought for that neighborhood this year, so all were being shown off to the village during the same evening.

The individual crowds would merge when coming across the same path in village. Everyone would pause for a dance, and then the parades would continue down their separate routes.

After the parades finished for the evening, more drinking and dancing went on through the night.

The cows would be slaughtered at 7am the following morning.

Sunday afternoon, my friend Augustin who was honoring his wife’s father with a cow this year, asked me to come celebrate with his family and photograph the occasion.

He was very insistent I take tons of pictures of the massive cow carcass they had yet to butcher. It had been cut into 2 large pieces and skinned. The bulk of it just lie in a huge basin, collecting flies as it awaited the evening’s ceremony.

After getting lots of pictures of the mass of meat and drinking plenty of Tchouk, the family geared up to transport the cow back to the quartier of the grandfather. (It was killed at Augustin’s house in a different quartier.) A woman, with the assistance of two men, hoisted the cow carcass onto her head. People followed with basins full of salt and rice. There was drumming and dancing all the way to the final destination.

Each family with a cow to offer took over a housing compound. Here they cut the meat, divided it amongst family members and began preparing some of it to be eaten that night. There was also a short ceremony to honor the grandmother.

She sat in the middle of all the family members and close friends and drums would play. The surrounding people were singing and would take turns giving her money. They would stick coins to her forehead and try to put bills into the pagne wrapping her head.

Many families wanted it documented, so I was able to get into the action to take pictures.

Again, this account is from one weekend. And it happens for about 8.

Valeur

Every Friday of February and March in my village, there’s a coming of age fete for the boys turning 18 that year (pre-Hiling dueling).

They are required to catch, kill, and eat a dog.

Sadly (not sadly at all actually), I missed all of these ceremonies this year with my vacation time.

My friend Judith encouraged me to go next year, but I told her I was only attending the drinking and dancing portion. One dog and I’m headed home. She understood. One reason I really like her… most Togolese would laugh at me.

Other fun fact: I mentioned in my blog on Hiling that the boys in the final years of the duels wear headdresses. Turns out the headdress marks the men who have completed Valeur.

Read Part II for the Sola Circumcision Fete and Premiere Mai.

FETES ON FETES ON FETES: Part II

FETES ON FETES ON FETES: Part II

As continued from Part I. More fete-ing below.

Circumcision fete

I will preface this by saying it was not nearly as grotesque as I had imagined..

Also that some of the information I write below is merely conclusions I drew from observation. I am not the volunteer of this village. I was merely a guest and and sharing with you what I witnessed.

This fete takes place in Sola, a village about an hour north of me where another volunteer lives.

The men of Sola, once they come of age, undergo a public circumcision ceremony in which they are not permitted to show any pain. This is to prove their strength and courage.

It happens once every two years.

Alicia invited me to attend this year’s ceremony and, although most fetes in Sola don’t allow photography in an effort to keep their villages traditions sacred and private, I was lucky enough to be allowed to take pictures. With that privilege also came a lot of front row seating..

In the early part of the day, the men who are going to participate in the ceremony march in a procession around the houses on top of the mountain (the designated area for Sola ceremonies). They wear feminine accessories and what I can best describe as a diaper made from traditional pagne. Apparently this “diaper” shows every one that they are a participant this year. If you have already gone through the ceremony, you are allowed to wear nothing but a cup on your penis made from woven palm fronds..  I only saw about three of these guys..

During the parade, the participants carry something along the lines of a fan or plate with them that they can hold out for people to put coins or small gifts on. This continues for several hours, all the while people are drinking and socializing.

There are several areas all over the mountain where the circumcision takes place. Some had it done leaning against trees and others situated their bodies in a clay pit shaped like a crucifix. There was a wide vertical area for the torso and two short horizontal impressions extending off it for the arms. When they weren’t being used, these clay pits were covered with palms to keep them cool for the next person.

I saw three circumcisions. One against a tree and two in the clay pits.

Before both events, the men were stripped of all their female accessories. I assume it’s a representation of shedding everything feminine before embracing the purely masculine. They then leaned against the tree or placed themselves in the shallow pit. In both scenarios the boys held a branch over their eyes.

A traditional priest would hold their … goods while another priest prepared the knife. The boy would lie perfectly still for the few seconds the cutting lasted. You could see their eyes closed, jaws clenched, and hands tightly squeezing the branch.

Just moments later, the priests would stand and the family would come to carry to boy out of the crowd. They’d inspect everything and if it was complete, the now-man would push his way back through the crowd, jump on the place of his cutting and have baby powder thrown on him. He’d continue off with a crowd of people to be cleaned, bandaged, and enjoy the rest of the party.

I was allowed to photograph one man immediately after he had been cut. He didn’t seem to be in any pain. (I’m not saying he wasn’t. I’m sure it was excruciating. I’m just pointing out he seemed very calm for just having something cut off a very.. sensitive area.)

You know that rush of adrenaline you have when you do something crazy? Like cliff jumping for example. It just builds and builds and builds until you launch yourself over the edge. Then, once you break the water and resurface, you look back up at the cliff and you can’t really believe what just happened. You’re happy you didn’t die, surprised by what you just did, and don’t really have a grasp on how to process it. Coming down from that adrenaline high, your body is kind of dumfounded for how to react.

That’s how this guy looked. He seemed relieved, but like he had just done something he couldn’t quite get his head around.

A woman rinsed the now-man with clean water. After the bleeding subsided, she wrapped his.. goods in a large leaf and tied it with straw.

After the third circumcision, we’d been on top of the mountain in the sun for about 5 hours. I’d seen all I could and gotten more photos than I could have ever hoped for so I headed back to village.

Premiere Mai

National holiday for all the hard workers here in Togo.

Schools close and every one gets 2 days off.

Oh, and of course there’s a fete.

Thursday morning, May 1^st. A few kids from my health club showed up in the t-shirts I had made for them. On the front it said “CEG de Kemerida” and below it “Club de Sante”. On the back, “La santé avant tout.” Of course.

I welcomed them into my house and asked what the visit was for. They told me that they were getting ready for the parade for Premiere Mai and everyone agreed to meet at my place. After about 20 minutes, there were 30 kids in my courtyard. They told me to get dressed and that we were going to actually walk in the parade.

Some of the boys picked up sticks and empty plastic containers to serve as drums, the girls picked flowers to carry, and a guy wanting to serve as the “conductor” made a hat. We formed two lines outside my compound and starting marching towards the main road. The guys played a beat and all the students started singing.

They’d made a song out of our health club slogan!

Highlight of my service so far. Right there.

I was beaming with pride as we marched through the street. We were joined by tons of children clapping and trying to sing a long. Lots of older Togolese people I knew were giving us a thumbs up.

 I think they were as surprised as I was to see an organized group of Togolese students taking initiative to come together and represent themselves at a community event. Outside of soccer games.

We were definitely a crowd favorite.

The parade went to the border of Benin and reversed back towards the other side of town. We ended at the chief’s compound where he made a speech for Premiere Mai.

That was the end of the parade. Or so it should have been.

My students were so hyped up that they wanted to continue marching around town as a single act. We visited the major of the dispensaire and a few more teachers houses, singing and dancing at each. Finally, after a 45 minute extension, we headed back to my place and called it quits. We were hungry.

That night there was a huge dinner at the school. There were four large circles arranged with desks. A food serving station at each.

The separate circles represented different organizations/occupations. I was invited to sit at the school employees’ circle. I was served 3 plates of food, most of which I snuck to the kids behind me. With the exception with what tasted EXACTLY like BBQ chicken. And I’m from Texas. I don’t consider just anything BBQ.

Pirette, my friends Judith’s youngest daughter, and I wore matching pagne (dress fabric). She sat with me and pretended she was my child for the evening.

Afterwards, I made my way through the various groups. Sharing drinks and dancing with a group in each circle.

Surprises from my health club, BBQ, and an adopted daughter. This might be my new favorite holiday.

As always, life stays interesting here in West Africa.

Stay tuned for a blog on my hosting a community malaria fete.

Kumealo

Points for Accuracy

April 30^th

This one’s short. And unpleasant.

But unfortunately one of the realities Peace Corps volunteers have to cope with.

At some point in (what I’m assuming) every volunteer’s service, they’ve been really sick. It’s kind of inevitable with the conditions we subject out bodies to.

I’ve had parasites for about 6 months now. After a recent 10 days of medication, I hope to now be rid of them. Fingers crossed for that stool sample to come back negative. It’d be the first time since arrival…

Those little guys are nothing compared to having food poisoning in Togo though.

I was lucky enough to have a bout of that my first week back in country from America.

I bought an egg sandwich my last night in Atakpame – the city in the center of the country with a volunteer house. I had a meeting there immediately following my return that postponed my reintroduction to village. It also provided a nice buffer for the readjustment back to Togo.

The next morning, the day I headed back to village, I ate it. Without having refrigerated it. I KNOW. I deserve this.

It tasted all right. But within 30 minutes I started feeling queasy. I thought once I got settled on the nice air-conditioned bus and drank some water, my stomach would settle.

There was no air-conditioning.

And my stomach did not settle.

An hour in I knew it was only a matter of time. Fortunately, I had both seats to myself and a couple of sachets (plastic bags) with me.

I won’t go into more detail than that.

I used the bags and then Ryan, another volunteer sitting across from me, handed me a few more. No questions asked.

It’s interesting how desensitized we become to bodily malfunctions as volunteers. Just part of the job description.

I neatly tied up my product and through it off the bus upon arrival in Kara, my final destination, 4 hours later.

I made it to my house just in time for round two.

For two days I couldn’t keep down anything. Even water. I was so dehydrated I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital. I lost about 5 pounds and my lack of energy consumption kept me in bed for almost a week.

I’m not telling you this so make you realize how hard my life is here or discourage you from ever trying egg sandwiches. They’re delicious.

I just don’t wont everything in my blog to be focused on work or shocking cultural differences. I want to give you a first hand account of what it’s like being in the Peace Corps.

I also want to share with you how I change and grow throughout this process.

What I learned from this experience is that,

Well first, never eat unrefrigerated leftovers in a third world country.

But also, I survived! Despite my two days being confident I was dying. Yes, I’m away from home, with hardly any amenities, so being here feels waaayyy worse than being in air-conditioning with DVR and your mom.

In the Peace Corps, you learn your limits. You figure out what you really need to make it through hard times and you gain an overwhelming feeling of independence.

Those lessons come through hardship.

I’m also happy enough here in Togo that I can take these unpleasantries and know that they don’t impact my outlook on my life here.

I hope that I don’t have that experience again, but if do, I’m confident I’ll get through it. Just add it to the list of silver linings. In addition to discovering my projectile accuracy is quite impressive.

Hope I didn’t gross you out too much.

Stay healthy,

Kumealo

Pathways Togo

April 9^th

I’ve recently been selected as the new Media Specialist for Pathways Togo.

What is Pathways Togo?

Pathways Togo is an NGO created by a group returned PCVs. It works to combine “international 

efforts to improve the quality of life for families in Togo through four programs that directly target our most potent, untapped resource: women.”

Pathways provides scholarships, life skills training, mentoring opportunities, and small scale community improvement grants.

Their scholarships are designed “to remove the barriers to education that often make the difference between opportunity and despair for an individual, and between equality and poverty for a nation.”

Then, through one-on-one mentoring and annual conferences, Pathways Togo increases the impact of those scholarships by ensuring recipients gain the confidence and skills they need to make the most of their education.

In selecting grantees, sponsoring mentors, and organizing conferences, Pathways works with local partners to ensure scholars receive support and guidance from within their own communities.

By helping women fulfill their potential, Pathways seeks to make a sustainable, just contribution to Togo's development.

Learn more at PathwaysTogo.org

So what is a media specialist?

I will be responsible for the photography and video of Pathways’ annual conferences for the scholarship recipients here in Togo. I will also be working with the board based in the United States to develop marketing techniques and hopefully create one large media based project.

In a nutshell.

One reason I’m so grateful for this opportunity, in addition to interacting with some of the brightest female minds in Togo, is that I’ve already found this position to ignite a small fire in me.

I’ve always found my resume to be a bit.. scattered. One glance at it and you’d have no idea what direction I was trying to take myself, which is honestly a pretty accurate inference. I’ve had jobs in advertising, physical therapy, hospitality, youth education, and media production. Now I’m in the Peace Corps. Since there’s no clear pattern emerging, thinking about what comes next scares the shit out of me.

Before I discovered my love of photography, I’d always admired the lives of international photographers -- travelers using technology to paint still-lifes of how they view the world in an effort to share their experiences and the stories of people and places they find along the way.

I’d always categorized it in my mind as a dream job that was never realistic. The kind that you keep on reserve to just pull out when someone asks that question,  “if you could do anything, regardless of money, what would it be?”. 

But lately, with this Pathways’ position, I’ve been thinking that perhaps it isn’t so unrealistic. I have a degree in advertising from the number one School of Advertising in the country. I fell in love with photography on my bike trip across a continent. I know how to work with youth. I have experience as a liaison between a group of media students and media professionals to create projects documenting social issues. Now I’m the media specialist for an NGO in a foreign country. I also feel I have an incredible understanding of people, a heightened sense of empathy if you will.

To me, it seems as though, unconsciously, my life is taking on a pattern. One I could have never planned for myself.

I’m not saying I’m on the road to being the next NatGeo photographer (although that’d be insanely awesome). I’m just no longer letting myself be constrained by the idea of “impossible”.

I have a new DSLR that I want to learn about inside and out. Just like a doctor knows the human body.

I want to use it for my work with Pathways and to also creatively document my life here in Togo.

I now plan on making a photography website.. which I can then link on here so you can actually see photos to match my blog…

And I’m even looking into master’s programs for photojournalism.

This next sentence is incredibly cheesy, but also very true:

Pathways is intended to provided a guiding light for the future female leaders of Togo, but in a way, it’s helped provide one for me as well.

And the work as even started yet! Let’s have some fun.

Here’s to realizing your dreams aren’t impossible,

Koumealo

Welcome Home

April 15^th

I realize it’s been a while. Didn’t have much time to write with 5 weeks of traveling.

And 2 weeks of being lazy..

During the month of March, I made a trip back to the states.

Starting a few months before my vacation, I had the same thought over and over – how exactly is this going to go?

9 months in Africa with the majority of my time being spent in a small village.

First stop on my agenda – New York City. Never having been.

I prepared myself for a total meltdown.

There were a couple of those:

Buying boots at a store in New York just off the plane. The ceiling was a mirror and I couldn’t find a single salesperson to help me. I just needed to know where I could find socks!

Having my hair straightened. After having arguably no hair for a year, a boys hair cut for a year, and now this tangled mop from Peace Corps, straight, shoulder-length hair for the first time in 3 years made me feel like I had had a head transplant.

Having the same conversation about Africa 10 times. With a band playing outside and a loonng line in a crowded bar. (not that I didn’t love sharing with people who were genuinely interested in my experience. Just without a lot of pauses for breath it got a bit overwhelming..)

But other than those few moments when I was unable to cope with my stress, being home went surprisingly well. I conquered the New York subway – only taking the wrong train once. Got to see my wonderful family and spend time with so many great friends. They had lots to update me on.. I ate a TON of good food. Drank some good beer. Played with our now HUGE dog – he was a puppy when I left. Didn’t fall down in heels at my cousins wedding. And even got to do a couple publicity gigs in my hometown.

I won’t give you a play by play of all my activities because well.. they weren’t really abnormal for anyone but me. You’d probably get the impression that I was writing about your daily routine..

However, there were a few major conclusions I made at home that were directly influenced by my 10 

months in Africa:

1. Talking to strangers is weird.

In Africa, you say hi to everyone. Ask about their kids, wife, job, health, if they woke up well that day, etc. Then you say you’ll see each other soon and continue on your way. You take a walk 10 minutes up the street and pass 10 people. You say hi to all 10 of those people.

Forgot it’s a bit different in other parts of the world..

Fresh off the plane, I make my way to the subway and find a seat. Everyone had their eyes dead ahead, pretending not to notice anyone around them. They’re prepared to just ride in silence from point A to point B. Some may be distracted by a book or a conversation with a friend, but most exist alone with their thoughts. Headed to Brooklyn, this guy hops on the train, all dressed in black with thick rimmed glasses and a guitar. He pulls out his instrument and gives a passionate performance of “There She Goes” by The Las. 

The whole time, I’m singing along in my head and thinking, “God New York is awesome. 15 minutes and I’ve already seen live music on the train. What else is in store?!“ After he wrapped up, he took a bow and hurried off the next car. On his way, I touched his arm and told him he’d made my day. I could tell I’d taken him buy surprise. He gave me an odd look, a quick thanks, and rushed away. I turned to the guy next to me and said, “Hey, that was pretty cool, huh?” Second odd look and a “Uhh yeah. I guess so.”

2. The ratio of time spent being on our phones to time spent interacting with the real world is probably approaching 1. (If you’re not a math person, that means they're about equal.)

My first night back in Austin was during the week of SXSW. Week long music/film festival that invades Austin every spring break. Standing on the upstairs balcony of a bar on Rainy Street overlooking a DJs show, my friends and I played a game: Who is the most ridiculous person in the audience? We decided on a tall, lanky character with cargo pants and a beanie with some very aggressive dance moves. But during our scan of the crowd, I noticed something else more notable that I knew I was going to save for a blog -- Over 50% of people there were doing something on their phones. Filming. Taking pictures. Instagraming. Facebooking (I can actually use those as verbs now). Using an app to determine the next show they were going to attend. Using whatever other weird apps have come out in the last year. Gaming.

The reason that one guy may have looked so ridiculous to us was because he was the only person absorbed by the moment, living it out exactly as intended.

And I didn’t go off to Africa to become a critic of our society’s dependency on technology. What shocked me was how easily I fell back into it.

I was irritated at first by friends that couldn’t stay off their phones while we were visiting. I’d be trying to have a conversation and they’d be reading the news headlines or checking their emails simultaneously. It was so irksome for my first few days. I’m back from Africa and you find your phone, that you spend every waking moment with, to be more worthwhile than my company?!

Then, I got over it…by doing it too. I’d forgotten what it was like to have access to so much information right at your fingertips. When my friends pulled out their phones. So did I. And then I started doing it every 10 minutes just to see what was new. I think I posed 5 new Instagram photos and 5 new Facebook statuses in my week at home. Give or take. More than I’d done my near year spent abroad. It’s infectious. And like most bad habits, one that once you start, it’s really hard to kick.  Though getting on a plane back to a land of no 4G data helps..

It’s something I’m still very guilty of, but something I’ve learned I want to monitor when I return.

3. The world keeps spinning.

I had a really hard first few months in Africa. I kept thinking about what an incredible life I had back in the states and questioning my decision to leave it. Every time I thought back to home, I imagined it all exactly the same without me in it.

It’s easy to see yourself changing and time passing here in Togo, but you forget to think about what that same amount of time equates to for people back home.

I had a lot of unexpected surprises during my vacation. Some people’s lives had changed much more than mine had. Which honestly, I don’t know why I was so surprised by that fact. There are so many more opportunities presenting themselves on so many more occasions in a fast-paced society like that of the U.S. I realize now how much more can happen for people in 2 years there versus 2 years here in Togo.

People graduating. Getting in to new relationships. Discovering new dreams. Growing. Shrinking. Experimenting. Quitting jobs. Starting new ones.

I have projects moving in slow motion. My weeks revolve around market day. And I think one big event a month means I’m busy. I pass full days sitting in my compound and 4 hours of work at the local clinic and I’ve done a lot of work for the day.

4. There are things to miss from every place you invest a little bit of time.

I could give you a list of over a hundred things I miss about the U.S. now that I live in Togo. So many things I couldn’t (and still can’t) wait to get back to. Preparing for my vacation, I was genuinely concerned that I was going to get back to all those, and not be able to leave them again.

First day in my parents’ house I slept in until 8am (yes, that is sleeping in for me now). There were 3 blankets on my queen-sized bed because I wasn’t used to the air-conditioning. Sleeping when it’s cold is towards the top of my list on things I really enjoy. When I woke up, I went into the kitchen, made a cup of crème-brulee coffee with their Keurig, and opened the fridge to greek yogurt, salad fixings, blueberries, and dark beer. If I were to imagine myself opening the gates to heaven, that would be it. 

Right there.

I made breakfast, headed to the lazy boy, and picked Suits off the DVR. My mom walked in and, with complete honesty in that moment, I told her I wasn’t going to be able to go back.

That was still predominantly true for my entire trip. But there were moments when I thought back to my village. I missed the slow pace of life. My friends Judith and Raisha and their kids. That feeling of being in a community where everyone is overinvolved in your life, but it’s only because they care. My house. My projects taking off. And even the other volunteers.

It made me realize that I can feel “at home” anywhere. I just have to give it enough time to allow those connections to be made.

5. On that note, I can feel “at home” anywhere!

NYC felt normal. So did Wharton. So did Austin. And so does Togo.

I’m a very adaptable person. And knowing a bit about who you are and what you like makes it easy to 

find your niche just about anywhere.

It’s empowering.

6. Nothing makes you feel more like your life is worthwhile than the people you invest it in.

Forgive me. This one is hard to articulate. And you may also disagree. But here goes.

Our purpose in life means something a little bit different to everyone. For some, it’s religious. For others, it may be having figured out who you are or what great things you’ve accomplished in your career. It may be having acquired so much knowledge through so many different experiences. Or through having and raising children.

For me, usually this strive to form a theory about the world and my place in it through my experiences and accomplishments is what makes me feel like life is worthwhile. This idea that I’m constantly growing and getting closer and closer to something. If there’s no changes or growth, there’s no existence in my mind.

However, what I learned during my time home is that while there is value in having experiences and how their accumulation make us who we are, how I use the person I’ve become through those experiences to touch others is so much more meaningful.

You are to the world how other people see you. And realizing how loved I am by my family and friends. Seeing just how out of the way people were willing to go to spend time with me, however, limited. All that made me feel like my existence was so important. That I meant so much to these other people and that that was my purpose. To bring something in to their lives. And in turn that is their purpose in my life.

What is worth living for are the people you love and that who love you in return.

That’s such a simple idea, but one that settled concretely in my mind for I think the first time in my life. Maybe even while trying to write this out.

I get that this is more of a conversation. Probably less appropriate for a blog post. Maybe we will have the pleasure of discussing it sometime.

But now a few fun ones:

7. Beer is even better than I remember. Someone pull one over on the post office and get me an IPA. Stat.

8. Food can make you cry tears of joy.

9.  The song “Africa” is really really popular. Everywhere. You know, the “I miss the raaiiinns down in Aaaaaaafrica..”

Of the 7 airports I went through. It played in 5. I can’t make that up.

Accra. Amsterdam. NYC. Atlanta. Houston.

It just doesn’t fit with Paris. And Lome doesn’t have music to entertain its many customers.

10. Also.. the whole airline making a mistake and giving you a free layover in one of the cities of your dreams is a real thing. You think it may be too good to be true. But oh, it’s possible.

My 5 hour layover in Paris turned into 36. With three free meals, a free hotel, and a guy from the airport offering to serve as my tour guide. Hello, Karma.

Sorry if I got a little carried away on some of those. Lots of ideas flooded out on the keyboard as I tried to find words for my reflections on being back in America.

I hope it was worth your while.

Though I’m sure many stopped reading after 3.

For all you troopers, thanks for reading.

There’s like 6 more blogs headed your way. I’m a little behind.

Stay tuned for food poisoning, circumcision festivals, and creative projects by my health club.

It’s good to be home,

Kumealo