Red Sky

There was a saying we used to use on the farm growing up: red sky at night, sailors delight; red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.  A dusk sky lit up in red would mean a beautiful tomorrow; red in the morning meant rain and less desirable weather.  Lately, it seems my life revolves around surviving the heat, watching the skies to predict and estimate when the rain may come and relieve us, and praying for lots of red sky mornings.

Last night I went for a long run; a necessity after my weekly girls club.  I love these girls but have noticed my frustration level after each session concludes, hence the run.  After talking with Michael I realized how responsible I feel for these 25-30 girls middle school-aged girls. As if their lives, their futures depend on me and my ability to reach them with valuable information.  Information and time focused just for them that I don’t know if they will get anywhere else. I feel so strongly because often I feel like I’m the only one in their corner; their biggest supporter and advocate for a successful life.   Almost like their savior.  As foolish as that sounds- and believe me I don’t believe that or want to be their savior, I just so badly want them to have more self confidence, stay away from sex and pregnancy, finish their education, go on to university and be successful, strong women! Combine this with my inability to effectively communicate in French and you’ve got the recipe for a long run – no matter how hot it is. However, like Michael pointed out, it’s impossible to reach everyone, no matter where you are or who you’re working with.  He gave a great fishing analogy that helped me gain some perspective. So, I’ve accepted that fact that all work I do in LT will require a counterpart- a local Togolese who can translate my broken, not-with-the-right accent of French into what the audience (most often kids) can understand.  This is a humbling realization but perhaps a way to make my work more sustainable.  I can look at it this way; when I leave, the kids will have a connection to an adult from LT who they can go to for information or advice.  In that way, I can only the hope the learning won’t end for this community when my service does.

Every day that it’s really hot I honestly think, ‘this has to be the hottest yet.’  But I know yesterday was different as it was the first time I had no appetite when I arrived home at noon.  As I sucked down a cold plastic bag of citrus juice I just sat on my porch staring off. No energy to move or eat. No attention span to read.  It. Was. Hot. Finally, I made myself eat before it was time for girls club, as I knew a run would be in store afterwards.

The morning had been productive before the sun got to me; working with Aposto to plan a small workshop on basic business skills (accounting, marketing) for 5 local shop owners. We watched on their small TV later, as the Independence Day parade made its way through Lome.  Togo was 52 years old yesterday.  We talked about how there are Togolese around today to tell of how life was before their independence from France.  How crazy of a concept that was for me. As we watched the president shake hands and look very Western, I asked them if they think their president eats pate (their favorite meal of paste like corn mush).  They both laughed and said of course!  And Aposto went on to tell the story of how Togo’s president had brought in a family friend who could make his favorite sauce just the way he liked.  I realized then that Togolese truly love pate.  They don’t eat it because they have to, or because they’re so used to it, or have nothing else (as I had thought before), they genuinely love it and prefer it.  I thought how you might say the same thing of Americans and fast food.  How some might think of fast food as less than desirable, when actually a lot of us prefer it! *Usually I would add sadly to this sentence, but I would take any meal from a fast food restaurant at this moment!

I slowly made my way to my French tutor’s (Sinya) house in the near-noon sun, I wished him a happy independence day.  We talked about the crops as he pointed out the yam piles I had helped to built were beginning to sprout. He told me how people who grow corn would plant and harvest twice between now and the fall.   I told him of my dad’s planting season right now and how the corn would grow all summer and be harvested come fall.  “Yes,” he said, “but you have big machines that can work so much better. Here, we work for a few hours digging and planting by hand and we stop because we’re tired.”  These are always interesting comments to me because as much as my love for America has grown in my 11 months of service, I’ve also realized that more –or bigger- is not always better.  But how can you tell that to someone who thinks America is shiny and good and everything is wonderful?  Instead, I pointed out that Togo is young! And that maybe in another 50 years they will have more developed ways of doing things, like planting and harvesting the crops.  “We can hope,” I said. “Yes, yes,” he said, “there’s always hope!”

The sun was setting as I headed west and made my way down one of my favorite routes; a dirt road that goes and goes out of LT and into the bush, surrounded by yam fields and dotted with mud huts. While I analyzed the girls club session and took it out on the dirt below my feet, Togo reminded me of where I was and restored my perspective. I ran I passed men, old and young, riding in slowly from their fields on rickety bicycles.  Women and young girls (spending their Independence Day in the field) hauling in loads of timber all neatly perched on their heads, babies on their backs and basins filling their hands with the supplies they had taken for a long, hot day in the fields.  Right, I thought, this is Africa.  While I’m trying to burn calories so many people are just trying to survive. I run miles for stress relief and pleasure, they bike and walk long, but unmeasured distances out of necessity.

This morning after a hot, sticky, night of sleep, I rolled over, slightly dreading having to get up so early to go teach yoga with Catherine.  I chuckled a bit and smiled to myself as streams of the red dawn poured into my room; my first red sky morning in Togo.