This will be my last blog from Togo. I've spent nearly 18 months here, serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer and now I'm ready to go home. All of my life, I've been a pretty black or white person. It's either right or wrong, black or white. No in between and no exceptions. Eighteen months of being pushed out of my comfort zone have taught me about the shades of gray. This choice, to leave early, is not right or wrong, nor black or white. It is gray.
My family was slow to understand this choice. To quit, that is. Because the daughter they knew a year and a half a go had never quit anything in her life. That same girl had never taken a leap quite this big either. Extreme choices call for extreme measures, or something like that. I wanted to find out if this was the life I wanted (living/working internationally) and I chose Peace Corps to launch that dream. If you're going to go, I remember thinking, go big. But being here, so far from the world I know, I realized how much my friends and family mean- and it's those people, not where you are or even the work you're doing that makes life special.
In the months leading up to this heavy decision to go home, I wanted someone to blame: Togo, the Peace Corps-something to explain my discomfort, struggle, and inability to adapt to, make peace with, and find contentment with my life here. But then I realized, that's not fair. It's no one's fault. This was a choice I made. It was my choice to take on this challenge. Neither Togo nor the Peace Corps asked me to sign up and live here, one of the poorest countries in the world. So how could I expect anyone to take the blame for the things that irk me about this place? Add that lesson in casting blame to the long list I've gained from this experience. You see, it's through these struggles, challenges that I've learned and grown so much. Let me explain.
I've learned to live with less (eating cabbage and lentils for dinner) and that'a given me a new respect for nice things. I've learned that things change; time, circumstances, life changes things. I've learned to be more okay with the unknown and allowing my goals to shift. I've learned that a lot of life is a shade of gray. Before, I dreamt of living all over the world, 'raising my kids in a hut in Africa,' I once said. Before I really realized how wonderful running water and climate control are. More than that, how much joy being near the people I love brings me.
Last week, a couple farmers from a neighboring village visited to say goodbye, thank me for my work with them, and buy me a Coke (yes, I drink regular Coke here). Mario, one of the most motivated people I've met in Togo, asked me as we were nearly through with our sodas, "Aicha, in your time here have you thought about the differences between Togo and chez toi (your house)?" Wow. What a question. It was all I could do to not exclaim, "YES! How could I NOT think about the differences?" I suppressed the list I would have liked to ramble off for him and instead collected a more respectful response.
Yes, I said, there are differences. I explained how the biggest difference for me was the challenging climate. I've never realized how much more productive one can be when you're not constantly hot, sweaty, and dirty. Secondly, the Togolese are much more of a community oriented society. Yes, there is poverty, but poverty is relative (I've learned), and no one here truly goes without. You don't see homeless kids or shelters full of families. Sure there are beggars and the mentally ill here who wander around, but for the most part, everyone helps everyone out.
Interestingly enough, I've noticed a lot of Togolese I've met have great hope for a better life, but many are either unwilling to work for it (expecting someone to just give it to them) or that don't believe they could be a part of the solutions to the long list of issues facing Togo. I've realized just how determined and somewhat stubborn Americans are in getting what they want, what they believe is right. Finally, I told Mario, there is just more in the States. From big things like a developed infrastructure, transportation and education system with more chances to succeed, to smaller things like dinner options. "But," I said, "don't forget that also means there are more problems too; drugs, violence, obesity, broken families."
It's fair to say that this experience has been mostly a struggle sprinkled with a few good moments. And, I realized that most people will probably say this is how life is in general. It took living in Togo for me to understand this lesson in life. The difference is the lack of comforts to come home to after a tough day; no bubble bath, no best friend to talk about the day over a plate of brownies. Small luxeries and special people I never appreciated so much. I came to Togo for three reasons: to have an adventure, experience a non '9-5 desk job,' and learn if international development work was what I wanted for a career. Check, check, check. I had my 'ah-ha' moment in Togo; realizing the possibility of combining my passion for health and fitness with a new discovered interest in teaching.
While the small victories, the happy moments were not balancing out with the boredom and lonliness that filled most days, I can say I'm glad I did it. I needed to know if there was more out there. And while I've learned about life's shades of gray, especially towards development work, I wouldn't say I've become apathetic. I still believe in fighting for the underserved and poor, but I've gained a new understanding of the importance of motivation and the desire for change that must exist if development is going to work. Indeed, there are lots of different ways of life in this world; something I was desiring to experience. What I didn't know was how living in one so foreign would make me appreciate the one I'm coming home to.
Friends here have asked what I'll miss about Togo. I'll miss being disconnected from constant news and Internet. I'll miss cherishing the cool relief and gratitude brought by the rare rainstorm, and collecting its fresh water. I'll miss fufu and peanut sauce. More than anything, I'll miss the special people that I had the chance to get know. Both Togolese and PCVs. Those sweet souls that got me through so much here, who encouraged and shaped me on this adventure, who helped me discover the shades of gray.
Taylor in Togo
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Mountains
I ran off a
mountain this week. With a parachute and
paragliding expert attached behind me, we literally ran off the side of the
mountains in the Plateau region of Togo this past Tuesday. It was surreal. We were literally floating in the sky with
the birds. The wind was blowing a decent
clip so we were able to climb higher and higher. My guide, a very kind woman from France and
flying enthusiast, guided us up and up and the view was incredible. Unfortunately, I had been having stomach
issues a few days prior and after only 15 minutes (felt like an hour) I told
her we better head down or I was going to be sick. I’ve never gotten altitude or motion sickness
so I was pretty bummed. More than that, I
felt really bad for my guide who could have spent all day up there. We landed in an actual mowed grass landing
strip next to small elementary school. Even though it was noon and the sun was
blazing, I sat there like a child panting and focusing on keeping my breakfast
down. Then school let out and I hid
under a tree while the little screamers ran from their classrooms to greet the
Frenchwomen.
My friend Kate, a
health PCV, lives in these mountains and I was lucky enough to visit her for a
few days. The view from this mountain side village had its price: three hours
on one of Togo’s worst known roads. Over a dozen bodies smooshed into less than
10 places in a small van that looked like it belonged in a demolition derby at
the county fair moved along at about a snails pace (from the road’s extreme
potholes or the van’s crappiness-I’m not sure) as we sat in a trance of
survival; soaked in sweat (of course traveling at the hottest time of the day)
with the only relief a light breeze which happened to be coating us in a layer
of the road that resembles the surface of the moon more than any real road. ‘This
is physical hell,” I told myself. One or
two travel elements of this kind of travel are bearable- heat and being packed
in like a sardine has become normal- but when you add the extreme slow pace,
the dirt, and the inability to rest your legs and arms in more than one
positions for over three hours, and the result is a lot of mental screaming and
trying to find your ‘happy place.’ Planning ahead, this wasn’t my first trip
down this infamously bad road, I had my baby wipes handy and Kate and I came
back to life after jumping out of the ‘car’ (the side door literally came off
its hinges and was only held together with a fat bungee cord during our trip)
and wiping the top layer of filth from our faces, necks, and arms. The craziest part about all this: my friends
have to make this trip EVERY TIME they want to leave village to get to a bigger
city. INSANE. There is a reason God put
me where he did in Togo; I wouldn’t have lasted a month enduring such repeated torture!
As we searched for
motorcycle taxi’s to take us up the mountain to Kate’s I was wondering what the
heck this was all for. And then, not
five minutes into the ride up, I realized why; the view from the road was
enough to convince me to do it all over again.
I noticed right away how much cooler the air was, lacking humidity and
so very fresh. Plus, her village is quite quaint. Small enough for everyone to know her and her
work there but big enough to get lost on a walk and enjoy plenty of vegetables
(not so, chez moi). I don’t know what I liked
better, the cool air, using a BLANKET for the first time ever in Togo on the
night it rained, the abundance of green peppers and cabbage available, the mountains
and the majestic views, or the fact that a mama was making and selling fufu for
lunch everyday! Wow, what a great place…once you pay that entry fee.
Kate and I had a
great time; she is a great cook and has a cute and comfortable house. I went for a run on the first night, exhilarating
up and down the hills in mountain air. The
next day we took moto’s to Kpalime (considered a ‘resort’ town by Togo
standards) to enjoy a day at one of three pools in the town. We bought junk food (Pringles and chocolate
chip cookies) and ordered pizza poolside!
It was the perfect place to be in the noon sun!
My last day in
Danyi (the village name) I had the chance of a lifetime; to experience
flying. There is a French woman who owns
a paragliding company and who spends a few weeks a year flying in Togo- just
happening to be Kate’s village. A group
of paragliding enthusiasts from Toulouse, France were visiting and with the
right weather and wind conditions in place, they let us tag along that morning.
It was an unforgettable
couple of days on Kate’s mountain. It reminded me of the beauty that exists
here in Togo and the vastness and power of nature in its purest form.
Friday, October 19, 2012
These past two weeks...
I’ve made some good
memories the past two weeks. Taking some
free days to visit friends and their villages, I’ve had the chance to see parts
of Togo that look completely different than LT.
First up was a visit to my good friend Jenny’s who lives about an hour
north on the national road. Her little
village is almost to Kara, the next largest city and set in the heart of the
mountains. Now, I call them mountains,
for those who’ve seen the Rockies or the Alps would call them hills; alas, they’re
the most elevation Togo’s got. Anyway, I
couldn’t believe the drop in temperature thanks to the slight incline in
elevation, and I appreciated it very much!
We spent a morning hiking around some very interesting rock formations and
taking in amazing views and enjoying the peacefulness.
Back in LT, we had
our first of six PTA meetings for the school trash project. It was a pretty cool feeling, standing before
100+ Togolese mom’s and dad’s and presenting the project. Of course it was translated bit by bit into
local language, but standing up and speaking off the top of my head in French
has been a nice accomplishment. The
parents planned to set a date to construct a dumpster of sorts out of sticks
and shrubs.
I spent Saturday morning
picking corn, Togo style. Aposto has a
few rows of corn near his house and I offered to help him pick it whenever it
was ready. It took the 4 of us all of 45
minutes to pick what hadn’t been eaten by bugs or taken by neighbors. I was surprise at the small amount it
resulted in and they were disappointed too. Almost every Togolese I know has at
least a garden size plot of land for corn of which they use to make their dish
of choice: pate (cornmeal mush). A good corn harvest is crucial as it saves
families from having to buy corn when it’s at its most expensive and their supply
has run out. Last year Aposot and Nima were able to use the crop for 10 months.
Last week kicked
off with a meeting with the local middle school director. My counterpart and I were in the middle of explaining
our gender equity club, how it will be intense as we are looking to change
attitudes and behaviors when the director stops us, turns to me and essentially
says, ‘but when are you going to build us something?’! AH!! Thankfully, this
was not my first run in with him and I smiled and carried on explaining until
he nodded and waved us off, signaling we had permission to start the club. “Typical Togo,” as one friend put it when I called
later to vent.
My day was improved
a few hours later as the PC car that travels the country twice a month picked
me up and we headed north. It was truly
unbelievable how quickly and smooth the six hours passed as we arrived in
Dapaong, the regional capital of Togo’s northern most region. A real car reminded me how travel can be enjoyable
when the car isn’t over stuffed with hot sweaty bodies, chickens, goats, and running
at half speed!
Early the next
morning, my host and good friend Sam, and I took a 45 minute motocycle taxi
ride to the base of the mountains that lie on the edge of Dapaong. I immediately noticed how much drier the air
was. Although the sun was blazing by 8
am, we had an exhilarating hike up to the top where the view was absolutely incredible. I’m not sure how high up we were but you
could see for miles and miles.
Later that
afternoon I visited a group of women and young girls who run a weaving program
and store where my friend Katy helps out.
The program gives girls free apprenticeships (rare in Togo) where after they’re
taught to weave on giant looms, they pay for their own materials and then when
their creations sell in the store they receive the profits directly. Pretty cool program.
I enjoyed some new
tastes of the north; a frozen yogurt time treat only found in Dapaong, Moringa
juice made by Sam who’s passionate about nutrition, and we shared a few calabashes
of tchakpa, the North’s version of tchouk. More than anything, it was a great
couple days hanging out with some of my best friends here in Togo, eating some tasty
stuff and seeing the sights of Dapaong!
Monday, October 8, 2012
To Ghana and back
After a fantastic
vacation in Accra, Ghana, I’m back to village.
Some of my best friends in country and I spent 4 days in the capital of
Ghana and were quite delighted with the cities advanced development. We ate sushi one night, and had fresh fruit
smoothies, croissants and real coffee every morning for breakfast. Delicious pasta and salads, and ice cream was
a priority too! It was so nice. I didn’t
feel as if I were in Africa. Spending an
afternoon at the mall for the first time in almost a year didn’t hurt
either. We even went to a movie—in a
theatre!
On Sunday, Sept 30,
the reason for our visit arrived as we rose early- around 4 am- to head to the
marathon/half marathon course. After hearing
race horror stories from PCV’s the year before, our small but mighty team of 3
was well prepared for difficult conditions.
Thankfully, the race only started 15 minutes late and thus we escaped the
worse of the day’s heat. Running west
along the coast for part of the time, the sun was at our back with the ocean
breeze in our face. The challenge was the
lack of mile or route markers as we ran a lot through random traffic and
neighborhoods, trying to keep the next race participant in front of you. I was
expecting worse- at least the half marathon didn’t run out of water! No designed as a loop course, so we were
bused out to the starting line. We only had a few minutes to use the bathroom before
we started and I chose to follow some women into an off the path park to make
things quicker. Unfortunately, I was
walking back to the road alone, holding my friends Ipod, and was disturbed by a
Rasta guy. Thankfully, he was a crappy thief
and only broke the headphones cord. What
an adrenaline rush to get a race started! I finished in one of my slowest
times, but I felt strong the entire way, so I was happy just to not be
overheated or dying of thirst!
The race ended at a beautiful 5 star (at least that’s
what I would consider it!) hotel right on the beach. While they wouldn’t let us on the beach
because we weren’t staying there, we did make friends with a woman on the bus
who was and she invited us to cool down in the gorgeous pool anyway. It was
lovely!
On our way out of
Accra we had amazing gelato for lunch… you could say it was tough returning to
Togo.
In the next few
weeks I’ll be preparing for the new school year that is just now starting due
to a two week delay. Planning my girls club with a couple of the girls I
sponsored for the Vacation Enterprise program and who attended a PCV camp “Take
Our Daughters To Work” this summer. They will be my left and right hands;
trying to slowly turn the club over to them. In addition, I’m going to try to
get a MAP (men as partners—gender equality) club for the top boys in each
middle school class, off the ground. Finally, a new trash collection project at
the schools within LT will hopefully get going soon with local volunteers and
my English Club. Lots to do… we’ll see how it goes!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Thoughts on Togo -by Mike Wilmoth
Hello, everyone… This
week Tay asked me to write her blog for you guys to get my Togo experience
since my twelve days of being here. Well
like three days into it I started this blog, and had a lot of it written, and
it felt like I was writing about some neat and nifty summer camp experience,
with exclamation marks and quips, the whole nine yards….but after being here, going
back and reading it….it just didn’t reflect my trip, and my feelings towards
it.
You know when you go
to do something that you know will be hard, but you have never done it, you
have this ignorance about you, which for the most part isn’t all that bad,
because how could you ever do something if you really knew what you were doing. That’s how I felt before I left- people kept
asking me “What are you going to do?”….I replied “Survive, I guess…” I didn’t’
actually believe that really, but to be honest, that was a big part of it,
sometimes just getting to the next day.
Africa is huge, and it
would seem that it would eat you up quick and spit you out even faster, but
here, it’s a small and slow grinding process that is the thing that makes it
hardest. Me and Tay sometimes would say….”Togo
won today….” And on my trip, we won most the days, but even as a team, Togo had
some victories.
In general, the idea
of planning in this country is just more of a calculated hope. Which couldn’t
be more evident than in the start of my trip, when I found myself stuck in DC
for two days due to a weather delay. It’s just how you can adapt and roll with
it that makes or breaks the day. We had
things we wanted to do that we couldn’t; the one I most remember was the
waterfalls in Badou. It is the rainy
season, and it had turned streams to raging rivers, making the journey
impassable. But the way we adapted, and
rolled with the circumstance made that day the best, playing cards in some
small village in the middle of the jungle hills, then finding out our hotel had
hamburgers….rolling with the punches and making it your day. That, to me is how
trips are made, with some “planning” mixed in there for good measure.
I have some thoughts
that I had wrote down since being here, so I think just listing them will be
the way to do it. Here we go:
Lome, the capital city
is not segregated at all in the class of people. There are awesome eateries and hotels, and most
will be right next to dumps.
If I lived here I
would need:
1.
Dehumidifier
2.
Something like
a cat litter box to dust the sand off my feet
3.
A make
shift urinal in my house, so I wouldn’t have to walk outside to go to the
bathroom.
4.
A refrigerator,
for sure.
5.
AC is too
unrealistic
6.
4 burners
instead of standard 2, I would plan my day around cooking to pass time
Being n Tay’s house I
was trying to hang something in her concrete wall, and it kept chipping. I felt like Andy Dufrian in Shawshank
Redemption: all the time in the world, concrete walls with bars, and all alone
in your thoughts.
We visited the
hospital in her village. I don’t’ know
how they could call it that, it’s just a building with beds. I saw a couple of charts, and some forceps,
that’s about it. Note to self, DO NOT
GET SICK! AH!
Probably the scariest
thing in this country is traveling the road.
With no traffic laws, it’s a rhythmic insanity. At first I was about ready to freak out and
called riding in a my first bush taxi “ A hot day in hell”, but by the end I
wasn’t noticing the chaos as much. However, the road to Badou can absolutely
drive a man insane. Imagine, well
honestly there isn’t the right imagery bad enough for you to imagine it. Let’s just say livestock on a country road in
the States, travel better than we did that day. PCV’s here have a tough choice,
be alone in village, or face the chaos to get to social settings. So, if the road doesn’t kill you, the loneliness
might….I would need a dog.
I was grabbed a couple
times by the “crazy” people here, don’t know what it is about me, but I
attracted ‘em. Taylor smacked the first one, and we just walked really fast
around the others.
Tay’s local contact,
Aposto, that guy is awesome. He is a genuine soul, who looks out for her, and
is a true friend of hers and now of mine.
I had such a great time with him and his wife, Nima. I truly hope I get to see them sometime in
the future….bless you Aposto!
I want to reiterate
again the grinding process of Togo: every single meeting or event we went to
was late to start. You think you would get over this after a few times, but our
culture has engrained punctuality in so much that I don’t know if it is
possible, especially for type A personalities like me.
It was really tough
for me not to speak French on this trip. I thrive on being able to communicate,
and to not do that was taking away a huge ability for me, and honestly, that just
plain sucked.
I almost got robbed in the grand market in
Lome. Two guys tried to get my cash but I figured it out quick enough, thank
goodness, but really ruined that afternoon.
I was really
interested in how things were made in this country. All legit buildings are concrete, I think
because of the humidity. I watched a kid
spread concrete one morning, it was interesting and I thought about what it
would take to build this country, the infrastructure. The thought itself is exhausting, let alone
actually orchestrating it!
The landscape is a lot
like Florida, low land shrubs, swampy…and hotter and more humid than anything
right now with rainy season.
This place is simple
and complex at the same time. I am ready to get back to America, but some of me
wouldn’t mind being here either. I know I will be thinking about Togo long
after I get back to the States, and hopefully bringing some of it back to Iowa
with me.
Well, finally I just
want to say to Taylor, I’m so proud of you. You have made the days yours and
have accomplished things of true value to this country. I can’t say it enough, I’m
proud of you.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Rain running under rainbows
Say that three
times fast. Lately, that’s been the story here; nearly all of my runs have been
accompanied by at least some form of precipitation. But is this girl
complaining? NO WAY! The harder it pours, the happier I am. In training for the upcoming half marathon in
Accra, Ghana at the end of September, and I did my first ten-miler in Togo last
week in Pagala after my final week of Camp Espoir. It poured all day and drizzled throughout the
whole run but I was pleasantly greeted by a full rainbow as I turned around and
made my way back. I ran backwards for a while to take in the awesome golden and
fuchsia sunset. I literally ran under the rainbow and back to the center.
Enough about
weather and exercise. I spent the last
three weeks in Pagala, again, as we finished up the last weeks of Camp Espoir
and I helped out as a counselor for another camp Peace Corps sponsors. A camp based on creating young leaders for
Togo, Camp UNITE brings some of Togo’s top students to the center in Pagala and
loads them up with information and enthusiasm to take back to their
communities. It was a moving week for me
as well as I had the chance to lead sessions on the importance of girls
education and time management. It was
really neat to watch the participants realize that their entire future will be
better if their sisters, wives, and daughters are educated right alongside
them. And teaching about planning – if
you know me at all, you know I can get pretty fired up about this one! Even more, I had the chance to be with three boys
from Lama-Tessi who were invited to participate. To be able to watch them
experience something so new and exciting was really cool. What’s more, they’re
fired up and ready to spread the knowledge here in LT.
The second week was
a blur – what’s with this exhaustion? Not used to FULL days without long hours
of reading at home, I struggled throughout my time at camp with questions like,
“Why can’t I get through a day of camp without needing a nap, sugar, caffeine?”
and “Will I be able to make it in America?” Scarfing down my lunch, I
practically ran back to my bunk each afternoon, coveting every precious minute
of rest hour. By the end of the week I
realized why my mom valued my nap time so much when I was little!
The third and final
week in Pagala, was the last week of Camp Espoir and I had the pleasure of
being a staff member (rather than an organizer as I was for the other 3 weeks)
and be right among the little monsters for the week. I was assigned to a ‘medium’ aged cabin of
seven boys from the southern regions of Togo.
This means it was my turn to be energetic, silly and fun. Yes, I know
some of you are thinking about how that must have been a stretch for me.
However, my good (and smart) friend Connor kept the office stocked in sugar and
caffeine and the week went really well and I found my laid-back camp mode and
had a great time!
Some highlights: In
the talent show the group of PCV’s on staff that week did a ‘circus’ act
complete with a clown (Connor), a gymnast and ribbon dancer (Alex and Lauren),
a peanut catching/animal caller (Ryan), and a bad mime (me). I don’t think the kids got it at all. But we
sure had fun! The next night the kids had time to share stories of the
challenges they’ve experience in being infected or affected by HIV/AIDs. Almost
all seven of my boys opened up about losing one or both parents and friends to
AIDS. It was an up close and personal
reminder of why this week of fun and encouragement is so important. As we sent
the boys home and began cleaning up the center, I stopped to read the some of
the camper evaluations the PCV’s collected.
“Why do you like Camp Espoir,” we asked.
“I like camp because I don’t get hit and we get to eat lots of food,”
one responded. Wow. Sharing with the
other volunteers we all realized how easy it is to forget that these kids are
seen as outcasts- lepers to their friends and family members who have been
obligated to take them in.
It was interesting
to have the perspective on these different camps. UNITE gives hope for the
future of Togo- empowering the country’s young people to stand up, take
responsibility and make change for themselves. ESPOIR provides a safe environment
where for one week vulnerable kids impacted by HIV aren’t seen as different but
can play and have fun as well as enjoying some positive love and
attention from
PCV’s. Different, but both important for Togo.
Other exciting
things from this week include the prospect of a new project with a Togolese
volunteer (think AmeriCorps) here in Lama-Tessi who has his medical degree and
would like to improve the hygiene situation. He drew up a plan to put in trash
cans at each of the schools and we met with the chiefs this morning to win
their support. Also, I was encouraged yesterday
with a trip to Yao Kope, the small village to the north of LT where there is a
group building a new hog enclosure with the help from a grant from the US
Embassy. I was impressed to see their progress and foresight for the
project. Always nice to be around motivated,
hard working people!
Finally, four days.
My sweet boyfriend will be landing in this hot little country in less than a
handful of days. After absorbing lots of vaccinations and buying random things
for my friends here he is taking the leap across the Atlantic to come sweat
with me for ten days. I’m a lucky girl.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Le Champ
I went to the champ
(farm) this week. Or rather, a few hours
Wednesday morning. My good friend here
in LT, Hortense, was just given a small piece of land (about the size of a
basketball court) and she needed help tilling the weeds so she could plant
beans. Sure, I’ll help, I said,
disregarding the hour of pilates I had just done and was already beginning to feel
in my shoulders and back. I’ve helped
dig yam piles, but I’ve never really ‘gone to the champ,’ as does every single
person here this time of year. I wanted
to be like everyone else; I wanted to prove a white girl could work too.
We marched off from
my house around 8 that morning (Hortense let me sleep in) machete’s in
hand.
My pride was big enough to float
us to the farm, wherever it was. As we
passed village people they not only gave Hortense a hard time for going to the farm
(remember, everyone knows where everyone goes here – imagining telling all the
neighbors on your street every time you leave to go somewhere, and then them
asking how the store or wherever was, every.single.time.) as a girl but then
they really had a laugh when they saw me trailing behind. A WHITE GIRL is going
to work in the farm? Hortense laughs this off, she’s used to it. I unfortunately was much more defensive.
Hortense led the way
through random yards and fields of corn a good two feet taller than me. I called up to her that my dad always told us
never to walk into a field of corn for fear of getting lost; she thought that
was funny. (The corn doesn’t get as tall here, nor is it as compact). After twenty
minutes we came to this overgrown chunk of land, filled with weeds and wild
grasses. Hortense took off with her
machete, making it look so easy, swinging and clearing a path in a matter of
minutes. No problem I thought.
Twenty minutes later I looked up realize I had
covered about a third of the ground Hortense had in the same amount of
time. As we both stood to take a
breather, she smiled at me, and I glanced down at my hands, screaming as
blisters had formed in several spots and popped at the same time. What’s worse, she hadn’t even broken a
sweat. I continued on, switching to my
left hand and thinking about all those batting lessons my parents paid for in
high school were really coming in handy.
I pushed on, insisting I was fine as my left hand started to follow my
right in its screaming for a pair of gloves.
As Hortense made her way back over to my section, cleaning up what I missed,
I was flooded with childhood memories of mom vacuuming the same spot I had just
attempted on our Saturday morning house cleanings. So interesting that while I’ve come to this
place to teach them new things, more often than not, I find myself doing most
of the learning. And usually it’s simple
skills young children pick up like learning to walk.
An hour had passed
and we had cleared about a third of the plot.
I could go all day, I thought, if it weren’t for these blisters, and the
sweat dripping in a constant flow from my every point on my face, and my arms
scratching incessantly from those few minutes among the corn rows. Yet again, a
new level of being humbled. After two hours, Hortense said we could be done. This
is how farm work is done here; little by little. On the way back, Hortense asked if we even had
machines for planting and cultivating our farms. As I nodded, almost embarrassed, I didn’t have
the heart (or the French) to explain the latest GPS technology that guides a
lot of farmers’ tractors back home. We walked in silence and I thought about
what a contrast our lives were; both young twenty-somethings, but living
entirely different lives. I once again gave my silent prayer of thanks to God for
being born and raised where I was in the world.
Back home I tended
it my wounds, showered and collapsed in my hammock. Who needs pilates anyway?
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