Women's Empowerment Presentation

February 18th

I got a call a few weeks ago from a guy at the U.S. Embassy in Lome asking if I’d be willing to give a presentation at the University of Kara on February 18^th about women’s empowerment in the United States.

I’d given a presentation there a few weeks earlier with a few other PCVs on what the Peace Corps is and the work we are doing here in Togo. I had a really great experience; I’m awed by the idea of being a guest speaker at one of two universities in the entire country; and YES I would love the opportunity to talk about badass women in the U.S.

So, I casually accepted the invitation.

Little did I know the amazing experience I was in for. . .

I got into Kara this morning around 8am and called Zak to let him know I was free to meet at whatever time before the presentation at 2:30.

He explained that it was the 10^th year anniversary of the University of Kara and that the Public Affairs Officer of the U.S. Embassy was also here. This morning they’d be going to a huge ceremony with an address from the President of Togo. Afterwards, both of them would meet me at Maroc’s (the place I usually bum around on the internet here in Kara) and we could go to the presentation together.

Big deal #1: I’m meeting the Officer of Public Affairs for the U.S. Embassy?

Glad I wore my favorite pagne dress.

Before their arrival, I spent the rest of my morning making a powerpoint for my presentation. It included a brief history of American women’s movements from just the last 100 years; examples of female leaders in the realms of politics, literature, pop culture, and business; and issues successful women still face in today’s society.

The embassy representatives arrived around 1pm and asked if they could treat me to lunch. The Public Affairs officer started asking me questions about my work with the Peace Corps and what my life was like in village. Five minutes into the conversation, a guy that was with us asked if we’d be willing to continue the conversation in the form of an interview and have it recorded. We both agreed.

For 15 minutes I answered the Officer of Public Affairs questions again, about my work and life in village. I also talked about my views on sustainability and how to incorporate that into the development efforts we make as PCVs.

Big deal #2: Found out that’s going to be included in a national radio broadcast sometime this week.

We enjoyed a nice meal – one I’m rarely willing to fork up the money for on my own. Afterwards we headed to the university.  I remembered some of the students from my previous visit and was happy to be seeing them again.

Without wasting anytime, I started my presentation --

SLIDE: Timeline of women in politics.

SLIDE(s): Dominant women of different domains (I asked people to raise their hands if they’d heard of any of them):

- Politics: Hillary Clinton, Sandra Day O’Connor, Sonia Sotomayor

(People knew of Hillary Clinton as the person who lost to Obama. He’s kind of an important figure here. Obama paraphernalia anyone?)

- Pop Culture: Oprah. duh.

(Only 2 had heard of Oprah.)

- Literature: Maya Angelou and Julia Alvarez

(People had heard of Maya Angelou. There’s actually an optional literature course at the university that includes some of her works.)

- Business: Sheryl Sandberg

(I asked people to raise their hand if they’d heard of Facebook and explained she was in charge of the whole freakin’ thing. Only about 5 had, but it made a point.)

SLIDE: Statistics on the impact women are having in today’s business world.

SLIDE: Then I tried to relate the issues successful women face in the U.S. to the same issues that women all over the world face – cultural norms, work/family life balance, stereotypes, etc.

I addressed the female students present in the room and asked for examples of how these issues specifically affect women here in Togo. And if they had affected them personally. I tried to start a discussion about how a lot of them struggle through receiving any form of education because of pressures to help in the home. How many of them give up “careers” because it is more important in their culture to raise children. How a woman who is well educated and successful may be seen as unwilling to give everything it takes to her family.

I then I asked them if they had any idea how powerful they were as Togolese women. I talked about the strength and grace I have witnessed among this country’s women in the last 8 months. How it awes me and makes me proud to also be a woman.

Many were too shy to speak back to me. But while I had their attention, I threw in a few words about how they were the future female leaders of this country. With their college education, they would be able to assume roles of influence and really make a difference towards gender equality here in Togo. That they were already exceptional beings. And it was their responsibility to work so that more girls would have this opportunity.

In the end, I don’t know what they got out of my presentation. I don’t know if it sparked enough to light a fire, or if it was just me getting super heated about something they haven’t yet realized. Either way, I hope they took away something. And I hope what ever that may be is translated to inspiring another female in Togo in the future..

One has to hope. Or else, what are all of us doing who invest in development work? Immediate impacts are not our strong suit.

After my presentation, the Officer of Public Affairs also asked the audience if they could name the female leaders in their own country. Seven ministers of the President’s cabinet are female. Together, the students could only name 3. It was great to witness this group of young Togolese people realize the powerful roles that women are already starting to come into in this country.

When the discussion concluded, we watched the Pursuit of Happiness.

Big deal #3: During the movie, I was called outside to do a television interview with two Togolese stations on my presentation at the University and how my work in village incorporated women. In. French.

Now, my French is good enough now where I feel comfortable working in village. The people are also very forgiving. But national television? That’s something to make you nervous.

I gave a brief synopsis of my presentation and talked about my efforts towards women empowerment here in Togo. I mentioned my health club promoted equal opportunity because it was mixed with boys and girls and that the health group I’m creating to work under my dispensaire will empower women by giving them leadership roles in the community, allowing them to aid in the health education of every single family in Kemerida.

I only had to pause once to ask what the word for “challenges” was in French.

Compared to my level of public speaking in English: 2

But for my level of public speaking in French: 7. Not too shabby. Plus they can edit where I look all confused and awkward. Which I’ve accepted as just my natural persona here.. People seem to dig it. I think they find it endearing.

After the interview, we went back inside to finish the film. When the film was over, there a brief discussion by the students about it’s meaning. The ideas of hard work, determination, and hope were thrown around a lot. One woman in the back raised her hand and first in French, then in English, discussed how the over all message of the film was that no circumstances can force you to give up on a dream. Only you can do that. And only you can’t. It’s up to you to fight for what your heart seeks and it’s up to you to fight for your own happiness through the realization of those dreams.

Amen, sister.

Big deal FOR EVERYTHING: The University of Kara is one of two colleges in the entire country of Togo. And this is only the 10^th Anniversary. While most of the women in the room were too shy to speak up, or really even look you in the eye, this woman raises her hand and perfectly, in two languages different from her mother tongue, provides that insight about a movie she had to watch with subtitles. WOW. What an incredible place to be in at such an incredible moment.

I really enjoyed giving my presentation. In fact, I got so worked up in it I started sweating. Despite being in 1 of like 10 places in the whole country with air conditioning. But it’s not what I can say about the achievements of women in America that made this day so special. It was listening to the small population of college students in Sub-Saharan Africa talk about dreams, and hope, and determination.

We take for granted the whole American dream thing. And the whole college thing. I can’t speak for everyone, but for me it’s always pretty much been a guarantee. But to be in this room with all the students who, just in the CEG (middle school), may not have even considered college because well, the University of Kara didn’t exist yet, who are now here making these points, that taught me a lot more than I ever could have told them about empowerment.

The presentation ended about 5:30 and I really needed to head back to village. However, Zac asked that I please stay because they’d invited other PCVs in the area to have snacks around 6:30 at Hotel Kara. I was reluctant, but told him I’d just get a hotel for the night and I’d stay.

Big deal # whatever-#-I’m-on: When we got back to the Hotel Kara, he talked to the front desk and got me my own room. I COULD NEVER AFFORD THIS PLACE ON MY PCV BUDGET. I was actually speechless. Hello air conditioning and hot water. I haven’t seen much of you in the last 9 months.

I had the incredible opportunity to meet the Officer of Public Affairs, give a presentation on a subject on passionate about, and am now writing this blog from the fanciest hotel room I’ll probably see for the next 18 months.

Hello incredible day spent in Togo. Work I feel good about and huge perks!

Learning more and more every day how lucky I am to be here,

Kumealo

+

February 10^th

Today, after 6 months of working in village at my dispensaire, I saw my first HIV positive test.

Every Monday, women come in groups of about 20 to the dispensaire for CPN (Consultation Prenatale). It is recommend that each woman attend at least 4 during their pregnancy. Here, they receive regular check ups on their pregnancy and receive free medication to prevent the transmission of malaria from the mother to the fetus. Also, during their first visit, they are given an HIV test.

Today a woman came in a brought her partner with her. He’s only the second man I’ve ever seen come in to have an HIV test. When I typed up the end of the year reports for 2013, I recorded that less than 

1% of male partners come to the dispensaire to be tested for HIV.

I was beaming with pride for this happy couple. Honestly, I was fighting the urge to tell him how great it was that he came in with her. Usually during these routine visits, I take a back seat and let my accoucheuse and matrone do the work. I help where I can, and correct them if I feel it’s needed, but this is their job and their community. I am at the dispensaire for assistance and learning until my time is absorbed into other things.

The woman there for CPN went through the normal examination, and he had his test done while he waited. I glanced over at their tests and noticed one had two lines, instead of the usually one. I looked over to my accoucheuse and asked if it was positive. Her and the matrone exchanged glances and she told me that yes, the woman was positive.

It was then, that I realized I had secretly wished it was the man. Not because I have anything against Togolese men, or men in general (I like you guys a lot). It’s because now this woman doesn’t only have to feel responsible for her own life, but also her child’s. HIV now affects both of their futures. And that of any other future children she wishes to have. I’ve seen families with over 10 children here. Will this woman have to worry about this 10 times?

When she sat down after her exam, they explained to her that she had HIV, but her white blood cell count wasn’t at a dangerous level yet. They told her about the options for preventing it’s transmission to the baby and a lot of other things in Kabiye I couldn’t put together.

As the situation plays about before my eyes, I expect to see a reaction of devastation or concern or shame. And there’s nothing. I was searching for some kind of hint about what she felt or what she understood. I wanted to ask if she was scared. And explain that you can live a long life with HIV as long as you take care of yourself.  And that if handled correctly, her baby won’t get it.

But she just remained calm and took in everything the accoucheuse was saying to her. It’s like this news came as no surprise.

It was the same with her partner. When he walked in and discussed the steps she would have to take, also nothing. I wanted to tell him she was still the woman he loved and that they could continue enjoying each other with safe methods. And that their baby could be healthy.

At the end of the talks, the couple left just as quietly as they had come. I spent the rest of the time during CPN running through scenarios in my mind of how this plays out. If they stay together. If the baby is positive or negative. If she does everything right and lives a long life. If she has more babies.

I don’t know if it was the positive mark that affected me so much, or the concern that maybe they didn’t understand the gravity of what this positive mark meant.

The reality is. I have no idea. I have no clue whatsoever about the personal workings of that family and how this will affect them. And I would say it’s really none of my business…

But it is.

It’s a huge part of why I’m here. To understand what people know about HIV. How to prevent getting it. How to prevent giving it. What it means to be positive and how that affects your future.

All day, my mind has kept going back to that woman. I try to think of reasons why she had no reaction. Whether it’s lack of understanding. Or if it’s being faced with a disease like that here comes as no surprise. Or if there’s worse things she’s been through. Or whether she actually understood everything completely and just has a serene disposition.

I don’t want to make any assumptions while I’m here. But I do want to learn.

I really want to make the effort to take on others perspectives here. Especially in these situations. Where doing so may give me some kind of insight into just how I can try to help.

Wishing for mind reading powers,

Kumealo

HI-HO HI-HO

February 6^th

It’s off to the garden I go.

Sun hat on head. Watering cans in hand.

Whistling like I’m the eighth dwarf – Hippy.

I’ve been asking my homologue since October if he’d walk around village with me and help me identify where the quartiers (neighborhoods) stop and start and where some of the most prominent figures in village live.

Finally, in January, I decided to start myself.

(I also need something to do to get me out of my house. My arms see plenty of action – hauling water our of a well, carrying it on my head, doing laundry by hand, sweeping my entire cement house with a two-foot long bundle of grass, etc. But my lower body has deteriorated into nothing. All my cycling/running muscle is gone…)

Anyways, long walks and getting to know my village even better was my new mission to start this year. After walking for about an hour, I decided to hang out at the school on the outskirts of village that had just emptied for lunch. It over looks adolescent hills that gradually mature into mountains in the distance. It was also.. quiet. A rare pleasure one can experience here in West Africa.. what with all the animal noises, aggressive conversations, babies crying, and music blaring 99.9% of the time. I spotted a collection of Baobab trees (African trees with knotted bodies that tower over you, complete with twisted branches and fruit hanging down) across the field from the school and decided to check them out.

On my way, I met a woman coming back from the fields that only spoke local language. Although we couldn’t really understand each other verbally, I could tell she thought I was lost. She gestured that to go to Teroda I needed to go left, and to go back to Kemerida I needed to go right. I tried to gesture that I understood, but wanted to stay here. I tried to do all the good-bye’s in Kabiye and then continue on my way to the tree cluster. However, she refused to leave unless I went with her. She walked me all the way back in to town and acted as if she’d done me a huge favor. To humor her I said all the local language thank-yous and remained in town.

The idea of just walking here doesn’t exist. You have to have a purpose. And you have to tell everyone that purpose. I feel like I just turned 16 and am determined to explore the world, but then there’s 1,000 parents asking where I’m going, for what, and how long I’ll be. And it’s not that they don’t listen to my answers.. just sometimes they actually can’t understand them..

I decided to walk to Judith’s and explain my predicament: 1. What do I tell people when I just want to walk? And 2. How can I learn about the village without having someone there to guide me? Judith 

always has the best solutions.

The next morning Roman (her 14 year old son) showed up at my door and said he was to take me on a tour of the village. I packed a backpack and off we went. We toured four different quartiers and I learned the dominant families in each one.  If we came up on a hill, we would run to the top of it and look out over the fiels that continue for miles. Every fruit tree we passed, he would teach me the names in Kabiye, and then shoot us down a sample. After a couple hours, he asked if I was tired, or if I wanted to check out the community garden. He hadn’t watered it yet today and if I was up for it, he’d like to show me. He warned me it was a pretty far walk though.

Honestly, I didn’t even know we had a community garden before that moment? Naturally, I jumped on the chance to see it. How could I be here for 6 months already and just learn this information? I owed it to my community to become familiar with this major missing chunk of information.

The garden runs a long a river about a mile outside of my village and continues about 2 miles down it. Each family has their own plot of land that they can choose to cultivate or not. Roman said they start working the garden in August and then everything is ready in February. Then in March, no one works in the garden anymore because it’s time to start on the corn.

He explained all this on the 30 minute walk out there. His little plot was towards the furthest end of the garden.. As we end up on top of a hill over looking the shrinking river (2 months of dry season already), you can see the land divide into shapes of different colors and sizes. Well.. the colors were all mostly green. But different greens. The cabbage lots were the most noticeable.

As we get closer, you can see bikes parked underneath the trees, women starting fires to boil some yams in their marmites for the workers in the field, women in clusters bending over at the waster to pick peppers, and boys running back and forth to the river to fill up watering cans. Again, I experience the same serenity I discovered sitting outside the school looking into the hillside.

When we reached Roman’s plot, he showed me this melons, cabbage, lettuce, carrots, and pimante (peppers). He picked a few of them for us to eat. After he showed me where he keeps his watering can and enters the river, he let me water his patch. After we were done, we crossed a bridge to the other side to continue doing the same thing with his friends. He told them I’d already watered with one can, and together they decided I should prove that I could do two. One of Romans friends went first to demonstrate.

He took the two huge pails, agilely worked his way down the slippery slope into the river bed, walked in to the knees, submerged the water cans, and ran back up the steep mud covered bank back with his arms locked in 45 degree angles, biceps the size of my face. Then, with a pail in each hand, he lowered his arms into slightly obtuse angles, maintaining bicep contraction and watered the patch with both pails at the same time. “See, it’s easy,” he says. 

So now I guess it’s my turn.

In my chacos, I very ungracefully slip down the slope, but manage to stay on my feet. While in my mind, like a broken record, plays “please, don’t fall.. please, don’t fall.” Upon making it down to the water and wading in, I remember a lecture from the Peace Corps Med Unit about fresh water sources in Togo.. and their very adamant warnings to avoid them. Because of things like Schisto.. and other extra intestinal parasites. So, distracted from my thoughts of self-preservation, my mind flipped a switch to, “please, don’t get schisto.. please, don’t get schisto.. was that a pink snail?.. because I think those carry schisto.” Too late now though, I decide. I’m already in the water. Elbow deep, filling up my pails. I emerge with my two cans, 45 degree angles, and cramps threatening my biceps. I work my way up the bank with very slow and deliberate steps. I felt like I should be wearing one of those sumo wrester costumes ballooning around me. You know the ones where you face each other in a squat position and then slowly rotate around each other with huge, purposeful steps in preparation to charge? Maybe it’s just me.. but that’s how I felt walking up this slope with the watering cans.

The boys up top are giggling, but they let me continue. I take a steep step up to the garden and waddle over the quenched vegetables and let my elbow angles become obtuse. I can tell I’m absorbing all the effort in my back and straining parts of my body more than I should be, but I’m succeeding! Two handed watering. Ohhh yeahhhh. The boys all applaud me and tell me I can help them work in the garden any time.

After Roman and I finish with his friends, I’m on cloud 9. Probably all the endorphins I produced in those 3 minutes my arms threatened to burst.. I started thinking about how therapeutic it would be to do this every day. To bike out to this garden early in the morning, away from all the noise, and work side by side my neighbors for my livelihood. Eat boiled yams, nap under a huge tree, and then continue into the afternoon. I decided to ask Roman if there was a way to make it happen. He told me I could help him with his garden for now, and then maybe in August we could find a plot just for me.

Continuing with my elation, we made our way down the river and into many more families’ gardens. I offered my watering services and in exchange got cabbages the size of my head. When we reached the pimante fields, we were given some of those freshly boiled yams (taste like baked potatoes) that we snacked on in between disrobing bushels from all of their peppers. Roman also taught me the names of all the vegetables in Kabiye and how to say other phrases related to fieldwork. At the end of the day, several people invited me back the next week and they’d sent me home with an entire bucket of pimante peppers, that I don’t really even eat..

We ended up getting back to Judith’s around 2 o’clock, sunburned (well, just me) and starved. We delivered the fruits of our labor and then Judith prepared a meal. Fed and ready for a nap, I made my way home, gifting everyone I met pimante peppers on the way.

This was by far one of my favorite days in village. I woke up with no plans, as usual, and not only found an enjoyable way to kill one day, but now have plans for how to get out of my house and into my community for the next month! I’ve already talked to Roman and we are heading to the garden this weekend. He has school, but he told me I could work with him every Saturday. I’ve also made plans just to make a short trip out there a few afternoons just to see if I can lend a hand.

I really hope come August, I’m able to start my own plot. Working in a garden almost every day for a few months sounds challenging, but also such an amazing thing for my mind and body to take on.

There are a lot of things I miss about the U.S. every single day.

But there are a lot of things I can do here that I know I’d never have time for without this opportunity.

I am getting busier as my projects take off, but it is so nice to know that I will almost always have time to waste with yoga and gardening.

Here, I always have time for growth.

Pun intended.

Happy gardening my friends,

Kumealo

La santé avant tous

Health Club

February 4th

“La santé avant tous!”

That’s what I say in response to the kids in my health club’s chants of “Le Club de Sante!” when I pass them on the street, in the market, or greeting everyone after church.

It’s supposed to be a members’ only thing. You know. Real secretive and exclusive like. Mostly I think they do it just to make me happy. And it works. every time.

Tomorrow will be the 4^th meeting of my health club at the CEG (ages similar to Jr. High). We meet each Wednesday from noon to 13h.

Despite having done this 3 times already, I still get really nervous.

Trying to give a technical presentation that’s fun, informative, and in a language you just started working on 6 months ago to a bunch of teenagers is not a piece of cake. It’s actually more like a whole cake. that’s cream filled. with 4 tiers, fancy icing flowers, chocolate covered fruits, and pearl strands. That shoots fireworks off of itself.

But, for the time being, it’s the only real work I can say that I’ve begun here in Togo. And it’s also something that continually makes me very happy to be here and gives me a lot of hope for what’s to come.

I’ll try to give you a brief synopsis of the meetings we’ve had thus far and my own insights on them.

Our first meeting was the second Wednesday after school started for the second trimester. We did introductions, discussed rules and expectations, reviewed the syllabus for the next few months, and talked about ideas for the club’s chant (to be continued..)

I find a secret pleasure in telling people my real name. I guess by saying that my American name is Shea, I feel like I’m reminding people that I had a life before Kemerida and Kumealo. Usually, I’m either overwhelmed by the feeling of being a complete stranger, or the feeling of losing myself just to be a little bit more like everyone else. Introducing myself as Kumealo-but oh-wait-really-it’s-Shea, to me, is my way of saying, “I am here by choice. I willingly accept this impossible challenge of conformity and integration, (hell, I volunteered for it) but I am also still the person I always was.”

Also during this meeting, I discovered the lack of originality in self-expression. Or more so, the lack of value in personal identity in the Togolese culture.  When I did my introduction, I also included things that I liked, at home and here in Togo. Then, I asked the kids to introduce themselves and say one thing that they liked. My observations were that 1. I will never learn all their names. ever. They aren’t as elementary as Nala and Simba. And 2. Everything that they like, is everything that I like. Including things that don’t exist in Togo. They just repeated to me things that I had already said, like Mexican food and yoga. It made me reflect back on my childhood in the States where I’d be pissed if someone said their favorite color was red before I did. “Bitch, stole my color!” (Okay, maybe that’s the more adult version of what I would have thought as a child, but I’m working to make this relatable, okay?).

In the U.S., from a very young age, we try so hard to come up with original ideas. Every one wants to define themselves with a different idea, opinion, or desire. Being able to think for ourselves sort of shows we’ve figured out a little bit in this crazy world. But here, the people don’t feel that intellectual pressure. When all of your time is directed towards simple survival, there’s not a whole lot of room for entertaining philosophical ideas and contemplating the unknown. How they measure how much they’ve mastered in this life is whether or not they can perfectly mimic the technique for making pate, doing laundry, and carry things on their heads. Through careful observation, you can see that each person’s physical actions are done in a very specific and deliberate manner. A practice that’s been perfected and passed down through history. When all of your time is directed towards simple survival, there’s not a whole lot of room for entertaining philosophical ideas.Repetition here is the way only way to learn. It ensures you master the information and methods you need to succeed without the whole trial and error process. The kids repeated what I said because they didn’t want to run the risk of getting it wrong. Everything here is wrong or right. Black or white. There’s not a gray area for “hey I think this, let’s have a discussion about it.” This will definitely be something I keep in mind for the remainder of my time working here in Togo.

Week 2, we continue easing in to all the technicalities surrounding health education. As our first official lecture, we discussed the importance of good health – essentially, why you made a great choice joining this club and how this knowledge is going to improve the rest of your life! (insert jolly thumbs up motion) I had 4 posters: 1. What does it mean to have good health? 2. Why is good health important to you? 3. Why is your good health important to others? 4. What are some general practices to maintain good health? Then we had a group discussion to fill them out. My personal favorite was number 3. I felt that by being a catalyst in this discuss about how your health affects so many other things, I was able to encourage these kids to take on a new perspective. To think outside their own personal box. We started with immediate effects on friends and family, but then were able to get into the economy and development. At the end of the lesson I asked them, what is the main thing that we learned today? One student silently held up a portable chalkboard that said: “La santé avant tous.” And that’s how we got our slogan.

That chalkboard was then passed to the back row, where a group of boys had to work together to write out “I love you, Shea” (I inserted that comma. Not giving them too much extra credit here) and held it up for me to see. First, I’m impressed they remembered my real name. And spelled it correctly. Second, I’m rolling my eyes in my mind. But also smiling/giggling outwardly. Three, wondering how old these kids even are. And four, why the heck do they have a little chalkboard. And where can I get one. After the meeting, they invited me to go drink tchouk in the market with them, but I declined. For one reason, I still had work to do and tchouk puts me.. in a good place. But also, would it be inappropriate to drink with the students in my club? To be determined..

Also, a girl brought me a bag with four papayas. My mind went to, “Man, one of these things is like 8 apples.” (Please get apple/teach reference – I’m very self-conscious about my sense of humor via typing.)

Last week was not my favorite. I needed a filler week - something to pass a lesson before starting HIV that could be completed in one hour and required zero follow up. We did.. the importance of hand washing. It is a very very addressable issue here in Togo. It just also happens to be one of the least exciting to talk about. I drew a diagram about how everyone’s shit from outside (because the majority of people use the bathroom outside) ends up on our hands, in our food, and consequently, in our stomachs. Then we did a demonstration with oil to illustrate the importance of soap. I poured some on my hands, and then had 5 kids stand in a line next to me. I shook the first persons and then it continued down the line. In the end, each person had it on their hands – demonstrating how we share microbes from one person to another. Then, we washed our hands with just water. Shockingly enough, the oil wouldn’t come off. But the second time with soap.. now that did the trick – demonstrating that the microbes are only effectively removed when one uses soap.

We wrapped up this week with a survey on HIV. Since I’d be starting lectures on it next time and continuing with them for a month, I wanted to see what the kids already knew. Then, at the end of my 4 lessons, I’m going to give them the same questions to see what the learned. Really, I’m just forcing them to unknowingly partake in an evaluation of myself..

They freaked out about the questions at first, convinced they were a test. I had them write their names on them for attendance, but that may have been a mistake.. I asked them 1. What does HIV attack? (14% correct) 2. What are the three modes of transmission? (19% correct) 3. What are two ways to prevent getting HIV? (47% correct) and 4. Is there a cure for it? (86% correct).

Despite how uneasy it made them, and the fact that I’m now afraid no kids will show up next week, I’m really glad I asked those questions. Less than 50% can name two ways of how to protect themselves. Some even said a prevention method was washing your hands. Then, when I asked about transmission, I learned some are convinced you can get it by simply having dinner with a person with HIV. It’s empowering to know that they have something to learn and that you can be the one to teach them. It makes me feel like my work here is meaningful and can at least make a difference to a few people. I’m really excited to see the survey results in 4 weeks!

And now for tomorrow. Our first lesson on HIV/AIDS. We are going to learn about how HIV attacks the immune system by playing a game with elephants and lions. Leaving out the tigers and bears. IT’S SO COOL.

One person is the baby elephant in the middle. It is protected by a group of 10 – 15 students in a circle around it that represent the rest of the herd. Then, 3 – 4 students are lions, whose objective is to break through the herd’s circle and attack the baby.

Round one: The lions fail to attack the baby elephant (ideally, it works this way…)

Then, a hunter comes in and kills off half of the herd protecting the baby elephant.

Round two: The lions serve the baby elephant up on a platter.

Then, I’ll make the miraculous connection between the animals and the elements of HIV. Baby elephant = immune system. Big elephants = white bloods cells that protect the immune system. Lions = opportunistic infections. Hunter = HIV. So what happens when HIV is present? It kills off the white blood cells protecting the immune system so that it’s easier for opportunistic infections to attack.

That just blew your mind.

I’m so pumped for this lesson. Fingers crossed it works out like it’s supposed to…

Also, I’ve had a lot of experiences lately that I’ve wanted to write about. However, there’s an inverse relationship between the time spent having those experiences, and the time available to write about them (that’s the excuse I’m using anyway). I have a list, but be patient. I’ll get it all out eventually.

My goal is to have 3 other blog topics addressed and linked to you before I touch American soil.. IN JUST OVER 4 WEEKS! (Just short vacation. Coming back in order to keep feeding your blog reading addition. Promise.)

In the meantime, I’m going to go teach some kids about the relationship between our body’s immunity and The Lion King.

La santé avant tous,

Kumealo

Tick (I'm here) Marks

January 10^th

I don’t really believe in making New Year’s resolutions.

We have 364 other days in a year that are equally as appropriate for evaluating ourselves. You know – comparing where we are now to where we want to be.

I think if you really want to make a change in your life, you make it. You don’t need two new numbers at the end of month/day/year (or for Togo – day/month/year) to coincide with the new efforts you’re implementing to be the best version of yourself.

HOWEVER.

After just a few days of this New Year in Togo, what I’ve come to realize is that what people use January 1^st for, I have been using the other transitions in my life for. I would evaluate myself and make personal adjustments on expected occasions of change within the year.

At the start of a new semester: What did I want to change from the previous semester? What do I want to get out of these classes? Are there ways to be a better student? If so, what are they? What’s my life like outside of school? What do I want to change about it?

At the start of a new job: How is this job different? How is it the same? What does my work say about me? How does this contribute to my future? Do I have any idea what that future should be?

Moving into a new place: How does this affect my budget? What do I want my room to say about me? Is this a place I can work? Live? Just sleep? What’s the roommate situation?

After a big accomplishment: So I biked 4,000 miles. Now what? What’s the next experience that will make me feel that way? I ran a half. Am I ready to train for a full? I went vegetarian. It failed. Why? What did I learn? I graduated from college. WHAT THE F DO I DO NOW?!

Transitions.

Since, for the first time, there don’t seem to be any lurking within 2014, I guess it’s time to practice my way with hypocrisy and do some of my re-evaluating right now. With (gasp) this New Year.

I get it now. The New Year is a transition. Maybe not a personal one. I mean, those digits aren’t changing on my behalf. But still one I can take advantage of.

So, to follow-up on my last blog post about my fear of 2014 being a lost year…

I was afraid my first year without transitions meant my first year of no change.

But. To live is to change.

Just because the tick marks on the timeline of my life are becoming fewer and farther in between than they have been in the past, does not mean I have to experience less personal growth.

In fact, I’ve decided that a year of no change may bring with it the chance to discover who we really are.

Without the distractions of new places, new people, new life stages. Without the endings and all the new beginnings. We find ourselves. standing . . . still.

Able to take in what’s around us. To learn what we respond to without being forced to respond. To learn what initiatives we take without being forced to take initiative.

It’s true that learning how we adapt to new situations and overcome new challenges teaches us something about ourselves.

But learning how we are without those opportunities,

Learning how we are when we can just . . . be,

That, I think, tells us more.

So, while I’m standing still:

I resolve to treat this first year of consistency as an opportunity – as a chance to make habits.

To work on the person I want to be while I’m in between the tick marks.

To take this year of living in the same place, with the same job, with the same people and make it the 

best it can be.

I will take these next 12 months and commit myself to my service as a volunteer.

To really focus on cultivating relationships with people in my village.

To ensure that every effort I make regarding projects and community education contributes to a bigger whole – to an overhead, streamlined attempt towards behavior change and sustainability.

To really take advantage of the level of cultural integration I can achieve by living in a foreign country for a complete year.

To not let that excuse of “being in a foreign country” prevent me from doing things I find value in back home. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle by eating right and exercising. Being autonomous. Establishing boundaries. Standing up for myself.

To learn things that I’ve only ever told myself I would. Guitar. Yoga. Indian cuisine.

I also resolve to be consistently conscious of how each of my actions contributes to who I am and the life I want to lead.

And to continue reflecting and making changes on the other 364 days of the year (Well, now 355). Just like I always thought I’d been doing in the past.

For those of you with changes coming within the year, take advantage of them. It’s practically inevitable that you’ll learn something.

For those of you like me, starting a year of consistency, resolve to make it the best it can be. You may be standing still, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be learning something.

Also, don’t just go through the motions. Be cognizant of all the efforts you put in to each day. Only then can you continue evaluating and changing once this New Year has passed like all the others.

By being conscious of where we are daily, disregarding all the major transitions, only then are we made aware of our progress towards where we want to be.

Here’s to embracing the space between the tick marks,

Koumealo

I killed a bird and I liked it.

The title was very impulsive. I think I crave excuses to reference American pop culture. Katy Perry, anyone? What's happening to me...

January 5th, 2014

Disclaimer: If gory details about the murder of an innocent bird might upset you, skip the paragraph starting with “1.”…

Happy New Year!!  Bonne Année!!!

I’ll admit it. Spending Christmas and New Year’s in a foreign country, away from everyone you love, is pretty tough.

But, like with most things in the Peace Corps, you learn to make do. (Which isn’t so bad when you receive four Christmas packages… complete with a pre-lit tree and monogrammed stockings – my mother, obviously.)

I spent Christmas back up in Dapaong with a group of volunteers. One of the Togolese Peace Corps employees has a house up there and throws a party for volunteers Christmas Day. Since I couldn’t be home, it was great to be there – surrounded by other English speaking individuals missing their families, cold weather, and dessert. We had a white elephant gift exchange and a Christmas talent show. I’m happy to say I’ve re-mastered the shimmy after Hillary, Kelsey, and mine’s rendition of “Santa Baby”. Lynn Bates, you’d be proud.

I returned back to village on the 29^th. I had heard some things from older volunteers regarding New Year’s Day in village that encouraged me to spend the occasion with my Togolese friends rather than other Americans.

These things one heard included:

“Be sure to kill a bunch of chickens and give away the meat.”

“You’re going to need three outfits.”

“It’s like Halloween in Africa. The kids dress up and come around for candy.”

“Buy a bottle of liquor. People are going to come your house for shots.”

Now that your imagination is running away with you, let me tell you what really happens in village for New Year’s Day.

All. Of the. Above.

1. Buying a bunch of chickens.

December 30th, I talked to my favorite family about buying some chickens. I asked if I paid for one, would they help me kill it? I’ve wanted to try since being here, but kinda needed the reason to do it.

They said I should buy a pintarde (guinea fowl) because they were in season. They would look for one to buy and if I wanted to, I could kill it.

New Year’s Eve. 7:30am.  Guinea fowl located.

Ayim called me up and said if I had the cash, he’d reserve it for us. Later that afternoon, he showed up at my house and took me to claim my prize.

He said it was necessary to kill it that night so that after church the next day we only had to make rice before we could eat. I’d originally planned on doing it right after church so that I had time to emotionally prepare myself, say a little prayer for its soul, all that jazz, but the time was now.

The man handed me my victim by the feet. Fun fact: if you hold guinea fowl or chickens upside down by their legs, they become paralyzed. Who knew? So, not only was mine heading to his untimely death, he also suffered from temporary paralysis during his final moments on this earth.

We took the bird back to Judith and Ayim’s. As we walked, I could feel its pulse and body heat through my hand securing the legs. It was very alive. And I could imagine its pulse fading and its body temperature still warm as we would prepare to cook it.

Their son Roman was in charge of helping me take its life. He dug a little hole in the ground for the blood to spill into. He handed me a knife, secured the bird’s wings, and bent back its head to clearly expose the neck. He told me to cut.

I’ve shot birds before. Well, I’ve tried to shoot birds before. With the intention of killing them. But sawing through that poor bird’s neck with a dull knife was slow and difficult. A third of the way through, they told me to stop and let it bleed out. The poor guy flopped around the yard getting weaker and weaker. I tell myself it was just the nerves. It helps me sleep better at night to think that.

After the flopping ceased, we knew it was over. I picked it up by the feet and threw it into a big basin. Judith poured boiling water over it and we watched the feathers melt off its skin. Then we went in and finished pulling them out ourselves. Roman taught me how to do the first main dissections. Legs. 

Wings. Breasts. And he did the rest.

Judith would finish cooking it that night and we’d eat it tomorrow as planned.

(Obviously this is overdramatic. I just wanted to write about the experience in a way that read as traumatic as I felt. Judith’s family got a huge kick out of it. Killing birds is something they do weekly. Goats and sheep are slaughtered by hand pretty often here as well. Don’t worry. Not up for all that. Really killing the bird wasn’t so bad. I’m glad I had the experience, but it’s not something I’ll really sign up for again.. unless I have a sharper knife or an axe. I could tolerate a quick death. Seems more humane.)

2. Appropriate attire.

I bought a bulk of pagne a month or so ago. I didn’t need all of it, but Judith got me a good price in the marche. So, I promised her whatever fabric I didn’t use she could take to have a dress made for herself. 

Both of our dresses were done in time for New Year’s. I asked her if she wanted to wear them to church on New Year’s so that we would match. She said she’d had another outfit made for church already. She also had an outfit for walking around the village after church. But, she’d be willing to match with me for her third outfit of the day when she had people at her house. She informed me that it’s necessary to have at least two outfits for the day. If I wanted to match her, it’d be better to not wear mine to church as well. If I did, I’d have to change after church and then the timing would be off.

From my past experience, I’ve noted that most people here have 3 or 4 formal outfits that they wear over and over and over. I never see people in new things. I’m pretty confident I can tell you every item in Judith’s closet.

Now I realize it’s probably because they’re all concerned with spending every other day of the year getting their money’s worth out of those three our four New Year’s outfits…

3. Kids and candy.

Okay. So it’s not Halloween. But after church, in their Sunday best, mothers take their kids around the village to stop at houses for candy and snacks.

Thanks mom and Omar for the candy you sent. Now I know how Santa feels. I walked around village on Bonne Annee with a bag of Lifesavers, candy canes, and Hershey kisses.

4. Bar crawl.

While the kids get candy, the adults get liquor. Or tchouk. Or both.

After church, people went home to change. I stuck with Judith and she said we had to walk around to visit some people before we went to her house to eat my bird.

Each house we visited came with alcohol. You could only take a little if you chose, but you had to take something. It was impolite not too.

Each house also usually had food.

Four hours and four houses in, I was full of 3 tiny shots of whiskey, 4 calabashes of tchouk, a beer, a glass of wine and some couscous. Thank goodness for that couscous…

I was dreading the walk to anywhere else. I was convinced I was going to vomit or pass out. I told Judith that if we were going to continue, I needed a nap. Now.

She had her sister walk me home. Luckily, I only couldn’t refuse one more calabash.

I slept for 2 hours and then prepared myself for round 2. Good news is most of the Kabiyes in my village continued drinking through their daily repose (rest) from 12-3. So, when I was ready to get back in the game around 4, most of the partying had died down. I was able to continue the evening with a trip to Mathilde’s and a final calabash with dinner at Judith’s.

The few people’s houses I missed just told me to come by tomorrow.

Apparently the celebration lasts for a few days…

If the thought of  New Year’s Eve ever crossed your mind, I figured I should tell you I was asleep by 10pm..

But all the partying people do the night before in the U.S. is done over three days here in Togo.

It wasn’t what I’m used to, but it was a great way to bring in 2014.

Now that it’s a few days later, I’m having a minor melt down about spending this ENTIRE YEAR IN TOGO. When it turns 2015, I will still be here.

In 12 months, I WILL STILL BE HERE.

It’s really making me evaluate what I want out of this next year of service.

2012 and 2013 brought a lot of great changes in my life. Some of my chapters ending and some just beginning.

In fact, now that I think about it, almost every year of my life that I can remember has included some form of transition.

Always ending a school year. Starting a school year. Driver’s license. 21. College graduation. New job. Hong Kong. Bike Trip. 

This entire year gets lost in one big chapter – Peace Corps Togo: Summer 2013-Summer 2015.

2014 gets lost in there. It has no foreseen exciting events.

This is the first real year of consistency. I guess that’s a new thing in itself, right?

I’ll have to come up with ways to keep this year just as exciting and eye opening as the rest of ‘em.

With nothing on the horizon, may it be full of surprises.

I hope you had a great beginning to 2014.

May this year be full of change, reflection, and happiness.

Be excited.

Koumealo

Giving Thanks

December 5^th

Celebrating Thanksgiving in a developing country can really contribute a lot to one’s perspective.

Despite being far from my family and the pleasures of Fall, I was fortunate enough to be able to spend the day with about 40 other volunteers in Dapaong, the regional capital of Savanns – the northernmost region of Togo.

I paid 4000cfa to make the four-hour bus ride up on Wednesday, enjoyed a 6000cfa turkey dinner at a nice hotel on Thursday, and headed down to Lome on Friday. When you factor in the other food I purchased and the few beers over two days, plus the trip back, I spent maybe 20000cfa trying to simulate a Thanksgiving back home in the States.

20000cfa is about $40.

For a nice dinner, two days worth of food, alcohol, and travel, you’d think that’s actually pretty cheap.

However, that’s more than a lot of families here in Togo will ever have in their possession at one time.

The 6000cfa dinner alone could probably provide a family of 4 here with meals for almost a month.

The 20000cfa for the 2 days could provide 3 families of 4 here meals for a month.

Now, think about how much your Thanksgiving feast cost you.

That’s perspective.

Don’t worry; this is not a criticism of the Thanksgiving holiday. I enjoy gorging myself on turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie as much as the next person. When I return to the U.S. after two years in Togo, I’ll probably eat enough at that first Thanksgiving home to make up for the two that I missed.

This is, however, a criticism of our society’s tendency to forget how fortunate we are. I know, because I’m guilty of it as well. I didn’t realize all of this until after I’d stuffed my face and headed back from Dapaong.

In fact, all I said this year at the dinner table was what I say every year:

“I am thankful for my family and friends, my health, and the opportunities I’ve had in my life that have brought me to where I am today.”

That’s it. Almost exactly like last Thanksgiving. It just comes out like a rehearsed line. No extra effort or thought.  My mouth forms the words almost unconsciously…

What I realize now is to be truly thankful we need to be conscious! We need to develop a special awareness for all the good things life brings us. Just trying to recognize a few, small blessings outside of the obvious ones can make you look at every day in an entirely new light.

Now that I’ve had my epiphany, I’d like to do it over.

This year for Thanksgiving,

I’m thankful for my family. And that I still have all of them in my life. And that they are healthy and, as far as I know, happy.

I’m thankful for my friends. Past and present. Every one of them has contributed something to my life to make it what it is – some, a very great deal.

I’m thankful for my health. Not just in this moment, but throughout my life. I would not have been able to see the places I have or do the things I’ve done without it. So far, it’s been holding up pretty well here in West Africa too.

And I’m thankful that if I’m ever not in good health, at least back home anyway, that I have immediate access to the care I need. While in Togo, I’m thankful I work for the U.S. government and that at least gets me the best that’s available during my service.

I’m thankful that I come from a place where we need holidays to encourage all of our family members to merge their separate schedules and lives to all get together and enjoy each other’s company. Really, what I mean is that I’m thankful that we all have the opportunities to lead separate live and become our own people – as opposed to all of us living under one roof, without enough beds, sharing every moment and ever meal together.

I know this is morbid, but I’ve never thought of it before. I’m thankful that, for a lot of us, death is something that is tragic and, often, life altering. There are places where it is simply an expectation. Especially for children.

I’m thankful the world makes me feel so small. Never will I ever feel like I’ve seen and done every thing. I can constantly be longing for new sights, striving to learn new things, and get lost in experience again and again.

I’m thankful for my education. Especially after learning how hard it is for people many places to get one. Women even more so. I’m lucky enough to have always seen it as a guarantee in my life.

I’m sure as hell thankful to be an American woman. This deserves its own blog post.

I’m thankful for Texas 4000. I’m thankful for Ruel.

I’m thankful I’ve been able to serve in the Peace Corps and realize so many things about life and myself just within these first 6 months.

I’m thankful that I’m able to smile at my past, for right now, really enjoy the present, and look forward to my future. If you think about it, I’m not sure how many people in this world can do all three at the same time.

Lastly, I’m thankful to feel I have the chance to control that future – to make choices about the direction of my life (that hasn’t changed despite reading War and Peace). I’ve witnessed how completely defeated people feel here by the circumstances that life has dealt them. The majority will never entertain the idea of challenging the only future they see for themselves. And I can’t say I blame them. Life altering opportunities are few and far in between.

This isn’t nearly a complete list, but I figured you’d stop reading if I went on much longer.

I hope you found it much more rewarding to consider than my previously mentioned, well rehearsed, Thanksgiving “This is What I’m Thankful For”.

And note, although I used Thanksgiving as an excuse to share the new things this experience has made me grateful for, I hope you realize that you need Thanksgiving to give thanks just about as much as you need New Year’s to make resolutions.

Again, this blog post is not intended to be a lecture, and it’s certainly not meant to make you enjoy Thanksgiving any less. I only wanted to share this change in my perspective with the hope that it will encourage you to evaluate how much you have to be thankful for.

We usually know to appreciate what we have right in front of us, but there’s much more to it than that.

A lot of the blessings we have are not what we can see with our eyes, but what we can see by looking through the eyes of someone less fortunate.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.

It’s a couple weeks past Thanksgiving, but who cares – go and give thanks.

Koumealo

P.S. Another reality I’ve come to terms with here, is that we don’t need to spend time in third world countries to figure this out! There are people in the United States just outside our doors and down the street suffering from poverty just as extreme, if not more, as people here in West Africa.

If this blog has inspired you (probably a long shot, but I’ll just pretend), Christmas is just around the corner and provides plenty of opportunities to get involved in charity work.

And again, why wait for a holiday? Volunteer any time in any way to give back to those less fortunate. You don’t have to move to Africa to do it.