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

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