October update

These past few weeks have been good.  I spent a few days in Pagala with another SED volunteer who has been here a year.  It was great getting to see her work as she is a very dedicated, motivated, and creative volunteer.  Some of her work include: creating a 6-week business seminar for local carpenters, masons, tailors and seamstresses.  She’s going to have local professionals (Aposto is one of the trainers) teach one topic each week (accounting, marketing, SWOT analysis, etc.) and anyone can attend.  She came up with this and will carry it out in Pagala on her own. I really respect and admire her ingenuity and drive. Also she has a Peer Educators club at the middle and high schools—teaching life skills once a week, a mothers club- organized by the Red Cross but who she works with on health projects throughout the village (latrine installation, village clean up days, starting a health club for young girls, etc), and she and her counterpart have formed many tontines which are small credit unions for groups of women to save and take loans. She is very busy and was quite inspired.

I went down to Anie, my friend Connor’s town as it was only a half hour drive south to visit for the weekend. Connor is an amazing cook and he made us Coco Vin with garlic butter mashed potatoes and Nutella and banana pizza for desert. OH MY GOODNESS.  Quite amazing from the cabbage and eggs  and PB&J’s I’ve been making for myself!  The next morning he made stuffed French toast with banana syrup…again, wow. We took a last-minute trip about 3 hours west where there was a PCV birthday party going on and it was so good to see some of my friends from training. Just a quick (sort of) trip there on Saturday and back on Sunday but worth it.

Last week and this week have been busy – and thus the time has passed pretty quick! With the PC Trade Show coming up in November, Aposto is very busy making t-shirts, computer bags and other things to sell.  While I don’t see myself regularly working with the wax and dying the fabric, it has been nice to be able to help and keep busy.  Makes me feel a part of something.  I also began my French lessons last week. My tutor is an English teacher at the school and is very kind and patient.  I go over to his family’s house a few nights a week and my lessons consist of talking with his 7 kids with them asking me questions about the U.S., me responding in somewhat broken French, and my tutor providing the translation and help along the way. I really appreciate just being able to practice speaking (although I’ve been doing more and more of this spending a lot of time at Aposto and Nima’s house).   I had a perfect ‘Peace Corps moment’ the other night as the kids and I sat on their porch talking for 2 hours all about the U.S. I was able to dispel rumors and confirm some of their thoughts about the States. They asked things like how long does it take to get back to the U.S.? How many people fit in an airplane?  What do they do with the corn that the farmers grow -- make pate? Fufu? They were shocked when I told them if they gave me a bowl of corn right now, I wouldn’t be able to make a meal out of it (not sweet corn folks).  This is CRAZY to them as every girl my age –and younger- knows how to pound the corn into meal and make pate (their staple meal).   I was able to explain what PC is and why I’m living in LT.  We talked about heavier things too; I explained how even though we have machines to do a lot of our work (especially around the house) the people still work a lot (they thought that Americans have lots of free time since they’re not spending a lot of time on the dishes, laundry, fanning charcoal stoves).  I explained how some would argue in the States that development- the machines- have made life more difficult: the more machines the less jobs for people and the more time for people to spend at their office and not with their family.  They were shocked when I said some people only have a half hour for lunch, as they have a 3 HOUR break each day! We talked about poverty – trying to convince them that there are homeless and hungry kids and families in the States.   “But we are an impoverished country too,” they exclaimed. “How can there be poverty when you have so much in the States?” Now, this is hard to explain thoroughly in English, let alone in French, but I gave it my best shot.  I explained how there are different kinds of poverty: you don’t see many homeless people in Togo as everyone takes care of each other, almost everyone as a house, even if it’s made of mud with a thatched roof – but still everyone has somewhere to sleep each night.   We talked about how it was easy for me to come and live in Togo but it would be very difficult for them to move to U.S. 

This was a really amazing conversation.  The kids were so interested and it was neat to be able to explain things to them – trying to point out that life isn’t perfect or easy in the States either.  A couple of times I sat back and said to myself, ‘Wow, I’m in Africa and THIS is Peace Corps.’

Even with the really great moments there have been some sad days to (too be expected I guess).  Hearing from home is so nice. Hearing my family and friend’s voices and being updated on their lives is very exciting. But it’s also very challenging sometimes too. Last week I had the opportunity to talk with some of my best friends – including my sister.  But after about the 4^th conversation I lost it and had a small pity party for myself. Calling Vanessa and venting about being here and not there to be with the people I love, miss, and want to be able to comfort, celebrate and just be with.   One must be in the right mindset to hear from home; even checking email and Facebook.  I must constantly remind myself that I’m on an adventure and that I won’t be here forever and will soon return to be with my family and friends.

After church Sunday I went over and helped Aposto and Nima shuck their corn. I’ve learned everyone – everyone! – has a farm here. Even if it’s just a few rows of corn, everyone grows something.  And they grow it to survive.  Dad asked me on the phone if they’ll feed it to their animals or sell it – and when I asked Aposto he laughed and said ‘of course not! We will eat it for the rest of the year!’   This led to another great conversation about what Americans –or some Iowans at least- do with their crops.

I also had the chance to lead a couple of activities with some women’s groups.  Last Monday morning I went with my host mother to her group to present the Seasonal Calendar which we had been trained on in June.  Along with Felicite, a women who works for the NGO in LT, we spent an hour talking and literally making a calendar of the year to highlight when the women spend money (school fees, religious holidays, buying things for the farm) and the times of the year when they don’t have as many expenses.  We pointed out times of year when there are more marriages, the prevalence of illness, and even the time of year when there is a food shortage (hot season). The whole point was for them to be able to literally see when they spend money, where their money most likely goes, and the times of year when they could save money to lessen the burdens of the harder times of the year. If they know that malaria is more prevalent in the rainy season, then they can put aside some money for medicine or save to buy mosquito nets before the rains come.  It went over really well and my host mother was beaming the whole time. I then had the chance to lead this activity again with Aposto’s help with another group of women from the Christian side of town (my mom and our neighborhood is Muslim).  Aposto is a great instructor and he translated my broken French (Fran-glais as we call it) into their local language.  Again, it went really well and the president asked me to come back and teach them more things! YES!

Lots of things coming up in the next few weeks: another week of technical training all next week with my friends in Pagala.  I don’t miss training, but I sure do miss being with my friends every day.   Then in the final two weeks before the Trade Show there is a big Muslim holiday, a PCV going away party and my one of my NGO co-worker’s is getting married.  Then I will head to Lome for the Trade Show –proudly representing Aposto‘s business alongside him (he calls me his ‘big manager’) for a few days.  There will be lots of PCVs down there for the Swearing-In of the next group of Volunteers who have been in training these past few months.  Then a PCV is hosting a ‘real’ Thanksgiving not too far from me and PCV’s from all over the country will come.  In December I’m planning a trip to Badou to visit Vanessa and I’m hoping my training group will all spend Christmas on the beach in Agbodrafo where my friend Lucian lives.  Exciting times!

Happier Times

After my last blog was a bit of a downer, I figured I better report on the wonderful ‘vacation’ Rebekah and I had last week and the high points of this week.  So when we got back from Kara (the town an hour north of Sokode with the amazing pool) I stayed with Rebekah in Sokokde and we convinced Vanessa to stay too… slumber party lives on!  We had such a good time – again, just really learning the value of being –just being- with people you love and enjoy. We ventured around Sokode – hopping from one treat to the next (lunch, to ‘ice cream store,’ to cookie store) all while sweating our butts off and picking up some nasty tan lines. 

On Tuesday (9/20) Rebekah and I took the bus from the Post Office in Sokode three hours south to Atakpame. Even though travel seems to always be a crapshoot in this country, we were pleasantly surprised when a new, Nissan type mini-van pulled up and 8 other civilized, quiet, and clean people got in with us – and we left on time! From Atakpame we took motorcycles to the ‘bus station’ where we found a van to take us to Kpalime, the final leg of our 6-hour journey.  We had heard that the road to Kpalime was bad, but as the drivers waited for enough people (22) to fill the 12 passenger, old, rusty, not-sure-if-it-will-make-the-trip bus, Rebekah (who was inside waiting and I was standing outside) whispered, “check the tire treads,” –"right Bek, cause that’s gonna save us from this nightmare of a vehicle."  Long story short, it was horrible. One of the worst trips of my life.  Three hours turned into four- and that was with the bus working and not breaking down at all! You see, the problem is that the road looks like a minefield… or like you’re walking on the moon. The van can only go about 20mph and swerves from one side of the road to the other in order to try and avoid as many craters as possible. It was long, HOT, sweaty, smelly, packed on top of each other and we were immobile the entire time.  What’s worse- when we were getting close to Kpalime and a few people got out, no one around us felt the need to MOVE and so we didn’t have to sit on top of each other, because in their words, “why? We’re almost there!” AH! So, not hesitating, I willed my numb legs to hop over to the EMPTY bench in front of us. And yeah, we arrived literally five minutes later, but geesh people, it’s the principal of the thing! Bek kept a pretty good attitude for the first half while I was peeved from the beginning (although I was the one sitting next to the really stinky woman but Bek kept hitting her head on the roof of the van and had half of her bottom on the rusty seat). We took it one hour at a time and about halfway in I gave in and got my Ipod out and escaped.  I told Bek I considered jumping out the window, but we weren’t going fast enough for it to do any good.

Anyway, we finally arrived and the lower half of our bodies still worked and we found motorcycles to get to Ashley’s (the PCV in Kpalime) house.  Luckily, she had a feast prepared for us: fresh tortillas, cheesy beans, Spanish rice, guacamole, salsa and COLD Sangria.  Amazing.  Even more, Ashley’s house is big, light, and beautiful. Bek and I enjoyed our guest bedroom and FULL bathroom. Running water, flushing toilet, sink to wash your hands in. Wow. The next morning Ashley made us coffee, grown in the mountains of Kpalime. Kpalime is absolutely gorgeous. Surrounded by mountains, covered in lush forest, the air is cooler, crisper and I swear there isn’t a drop of humidity.  Known as the tourist section of Togo, the people there are quieter and used to seeing foreigners and therefore more polite (we didn’t get called ‘white person’ once- quite the accomplishment considering little kids constantly shout that every day)! We ate well there too. Great little restaurant run by Belgians.  The first day I had a salad (lettuce, cabbage, a hardboiled egg, and vinaigrette) and the next night I enjoyed a real cheeseburger and fries.  The owner makes her own mayonnaise each day and it was quite tasty. Looking back, those two days in Kpalime were a true vacation; we never felt like we were in Togo. We weren’t sweating constantly, enjoying running water, eating great food and watching an established volunteer carry out her work.  It was great and we didn’t want to leave.  However, Ashley provided a better way out of Kpalime and the three of us headed south to Lome on Friday morning via a much, much better road! Although we were still packed in a bus, it was a quick two hour trip and nice to be with Ashley who could show us how to get around in the big, bustling capital city.

Friday and Saturday we pulled out all the stops to enjoy all this surprise trip to Lome had to offer.  Bek and I got a room at a hotel (more like a hostel- but still with running water) and then we picked up falafel wraps from a Lebanese restaurant and walked to the PC office where enjoyed the afternoon in the PCV lounge, equipped with air-conditioning, cold water and wireless (what more do you need?).  Our friend Lucian who lives about an hour from Lome joined us and we treated ourselves to an amazing dinner at an Italian restaurant.  I had the lasagna and the others had pizza.  Delicious. When Lucian and Bek ordered dessert, I ordered another glass of red wine.

I wanted to see the ‘grand marche’ (the big market) of Lome that we’ve heard so much about and so Lucian led us there first thing Saturday morning. Walking parallel to the beach, this farm girl begged the West Coasters to walk on the sand. It was marvelous and I was in awe of the huge crashing waves.  Then we came upon some fisherman pulling in a giant net.  They were chanting and tugging in unison and the rope was buried too far out in the ocean to be able to see it. One of my favorite things of Lome was discovering the coffee carts.  The Togolese version of Starbucks, if you will.  Men pushing carts with thermoses of hot water and you can order a coffee or tea (automatically come with LOTS of sugar and condensed milk) and the man mixes it in his plastic mug and fills up a tiny Dixie cup for you to drink.  So in the blaring sun (easily 90 degrees by 8 a.m. that day) we licked our lips and savored every sweet drop of java!

The marche was something else.  Packed street upon packed street, filled with random, packaged, plastic things from China. Yes, there were sections with fruits and vegetables, electronics, clothing, and even baby things.  In the meat section there was a semi with its doors open and you could see row upon row of cow carcasses hanging from the ceiling.  Men carried freshly skinned and killed goats piled in basins atop their heads.  Tons of people.Lots of yelling and hawking to get you to buy things. And hot hot sun. It was wild.  

Escaped the marche and headed to the grocery store.  Cooling off in the air conditioning we walked very slowly up and down each isle, gawking at all of the wonderful things to buy. More Lebanese food for lunch, air conditioning and wireless at the PC office for the afternoon.  Dinner was at a Vietnamese restaurant where we split egg rolls and I enjoyed some Pho (shout out to my friends at YESS!).  The restaurant had a TV playing 80’s slow love jams and I was eating that up too – much to Lucian and Bek’s disdain. It was a perfect ending to a perfect week. 

Sunday morning we were up at 4 a.m. so we could catch the bus from the Post Office at 6.   A nice, new charter bus (no AC, but did have complimentary water!) took us the seven hour trip back to Sokode.  Whew.

Bek has been an amazing travel companion.  I’m more of the navigator –paying attention to street signs and landmarks (yes mom/dad/Maddie, it is possible) and she is more of the people person; being nice to everyone and letting me play the mean cop when mean moto drivers try to take advantage of us. We laugh a lot. You have to. Noticing that we are doing things a bit differently (again, have to) we started making a list – a natural thing for Rebekah as she writes EVERYTHING down (yes, friends even more than me- you should see her notebooks!).  Anyway, I’ll leave you with our current list.

The ways I’ve changed; the things we do here:

Ration our supplies.  Rebekah has been splitting baby cotton balls into two and I used one band-aid for  an entire week in Kpalime.

Garbage envy (I hated throwing things out in the States, but here, everything can be reused for something – right?) I, however haven’t gotten so bad as Bek who I had to hold back from digging through Ashley’s trash bag.

Bathroom privacy.Using the restroom in a hotel with only a thin plastic curtain separating the toilet from the rest of the room (more of a thing for Bek).

Smell test. Our trip to Kpalime gave me a whole new perspective on re-wearing dirty clothes as we were gone three additional days than originally planned.

Used treasure.  Volunteers getting ready to leave country dump their used clothing and any other random things they don’t want in the PC lounge.  Bek and I enjoyed a ‘shopping-spree’ of sorts as we dug through the bins where I found a new pair of pants, a couple of old tshirts I’m going to have made into a skirt, half-used face wash, sunscreen, baby powder, a whole wad of ziplock bags and some stickers.  Amazing huh—things I would give to Goodwill in the States I now cherish.

Ants.Lots of ants here.  Last week, we ate Bek’s ant-ridden Oreo’s because… they’re OREO’S!

My Togo Marathon

Sunday, September 25, 2011
I ran my first marathon in May.  It went horribly.  I followed a detailed training plan which included specific speed intervals, tempo runs, and two months worth of long runs on the weekends.  I was all about the training, I didn’t miss a workout and actually enjoyed the early mornings and strategizing which way the wind was out of for the 15+ milers.  I was on track to make my goal of a sub-4 hour marathon.  I did everything right – followed every nutrition, rest, recovery rule.  I was ready; a bit nervous and intimidated by the feat, but I knew I had put the work in and was trusting it would pay off. Race day came and with less than ideal conditions (warm with humidity) and I chatted with an older woman while we waited for the gun to go off.  Not only had this 70+ woman run a marathon in almost every state, but I learned her daughter had done the Peace Corps in South America.  It was a sign  and I tried to calm my nerves.

The next 4+ hours were some of the hardest I’ve endured, right up there with climbing Mt. Fuji one summer in the middle of the night. I never felt like myself; never found my ‘groove’ and I felt like I was dragging a wagon behind me. By mile 8 I was telling myself to just make it to the halfway point.  Soaked in sweat and dreading the next thirteen miles, I struggled to just make it one mile at a time. I wanted to quit. I thought about pulling over and asking to use someone’s cellphone to call my mom. Lame, I know, but when you’ve been hurting for 3 hours and you can’t see the end, your mind does crazy things.  It was terrible and not what I wanted in my first marathon.  Somehow, I finished.  I missed my goal by a long shot – something I’m still trying to get over, but I finished.  “Was it a good experience,” Bek asked me today. “No,” I replied, I didn’t enjoy it.  But it was an experience; an experience I needed so I will know what to expect for next time. An experience that I wanted, worked for.  An experience all my own and one that few people share.

Saturday will be October 1^st and mile 5 of this new marathon I’m running.  That’s what it feels like today at least. As Bek and I sat in her living room discussing the struggles, frustrations, and sacrifices of this Peace Corps service, I realized there are 26 months to this journey, ironically similar to the 26-ish miles I ran in May.  Huh. As we talked more I pointed out how I really enjoyed training for the race and then race day was a disappointment.  Similarly, I tried to mentally prepare for this PC race this past year: telling myself there would be lonely, hot, uncomfortable, and down-right hard days. But hey- it’s an adventure, an experience I so wanted.  It would be tough, but I would get through it. I would cross that finish line. Today it felt different. Today, I had to ask myself how many miles I’m willing to suffer/struggle through.  Today I had to ask myself if the daily struggle worth being able to say in two years that I had this experience, that I finished, that I endured. Today I wondered; for the first time I really wondered if I could do this; if it was worth it.  I knew these thoughts and feelings were right around the corner as Bek and I made our way back to Sokode today.  We traveled south, visiting and watching other volunteers in action last week then onto Lome where we stuffed ourselves with the amazing food the city has to offer before heading back north.  But coming back on our 7 hour bus ride this morning, I knew today was going to be tough.  It’s like coming home from vacation; but hotter, dirtier, lonelier, and a bigger let down.  And as much as that sounds pretty simple and that I just wanted to be on vacation forever, it’s difficult to describe.  All of our senses,  emotions, feelings, thoughts are intensified – all the time- and that takes an emotional toll.  So you go from a week of delicious meals, beautiful scenery, and running water –even forgetting you’re in Togo for a few moments.  Then you get back, and it’s hard, you miss people, you don't know how to work here and there are still lots of questions about your purpose.  Life is hard and it wears on your emotional and mental health.  And today I asked why? Why the struggle? How long will it be hard? Big questions without answers…

But, I’m going to keep running. For today, I will keep running because I want to see what mile 5, 6, 7 and beyond look like. Just like in May, as exhausting as it is, I’m will keep putting one foot in front of the other, remembering to look up instead of down as I make it through another mile. 

Demi-September.

The first few weeks of September have been quite eventful.  My host mom is the secretary for a one of six women’s groups who meet weekly to save money—sort of like a credit union.  She not only took me to her Monday morning meeting but also had my host brother bring a special chair for me to sit on in the middle the group while the rest of the women sit around in the circle on the little wooden stools they carried on their heads.  I felt like a princess as my mom translated everything that was going on into French (as of course they were speaking local language) and I watched as the woman took turns depositing money and repaying loans they had taken out.  More blogs to come on these groupements and the work I hope to do with them.

I spent a good chunk of last week working on my house.  Continuing to unpack random bags from Lorena, dusting off  and arranging furniture.  I had bought paint in Sokode over the weekend and was ready to paint my two rooms but quickly realized primer is a must for cement walls as one wall sucked up almost an entire can of paint.  Sorry Grandma Pat, I let you down.  Later in the week I locked myself out of my house; luckily I had changed out of my pajamas already and had my purse so at the last minute changed my plans for the day (working w/ Aposto) and caught a car to Sokode to retrieve a spare key from Rebekah and ended up  buying more paint.  Such a treat to get to see Bek (unplanned) and she treated us to instant mashed potatoes and brown gravy = AMAZING! Those of you who know me, know I don’t eat many ‘instant things’ –things taste better in Togo I guess.

Wednesday was painting day thanks to my sweet friend, Hortance – my Togolese friend who is a machine! We worked all day to prime and paint both rooms—wow.  Lots of times I would stand back to take in our progress while Hortance just plugged away- more like scrubbing the paint into the wall rather than painting. A lesson in painting and appreciation for Hortance’s can-do attitude and work ethic.

I spent Thursday shadowing one of the woman who works for the NGO in LT.  She is in charge of training and supervising local outreach workers who educate their respective small villages on malaria and TB.  One meeting was at the hospital in LT (more like an empty building with a blue ‘H’ on the outside—they have a few beds and even fewer supplies) and it was that morning that I witnessed my first truly malnourished baby.  Wow.  Earlier that morning I had been playing with a happy, chubby baby and then the hospital director showed me this mom and her alien-looking baby.  Small head (not enough blood), huge eyes and tiny, nimble arms and legs. So sad. And there I stood – the one mom trying to coax her baby to eat this peanutey-goo, while the other woman stood to my right with her chubby little guy strapped on her back and giggling. A moment I won’t ever forget and one that has motivated and excited me to hopefully have the chance to work with the hospital in the future.

Peace Corps volunteers are organizing the second annual tradeshow in November that Aposto and I will be attending down in Lome.  Friday, we went through his inventory of batiked items, natural dyed fabrics, and brainstormed new ideas.  I felt like it was my first ‘official’ work and I felt very needed and useful.

That day was made even better when Conner and Vanessa arrived in LT around noon. I literally went running out to the road –smiling the whole way.  Wow is it good to see friends. I’ve learned the incredible value of just being- just sitting- with people you care about.  We had an amazing night – Connor showing off his cooking skills, making pizza and enjoying some boxed Sangria. It rained all night and the next morning I emptied my water container (filled with brown-ish well water) and filled it with fresh, clean, rainwater. So nice!

Saturday we headed to Sokode to meet up with Rebekah and catch the bus that the post office runs to get to Kara to meet up with the rest of our training group to celebrate one of our friends’ birthdays.  Even though we bought tickets in advance, expecting to leave on time and hoping for a nicer charter bus, it still arrived two hours late and ended up breaking down right outside Kara when they informed us that the accelerator and brakes had stopped working. Yep, both. Fortunately, the company and the scenery were worth the wait. I sat next to a really nice older man who had worked with the PC in the past and the landscape was beautiful as we climbed further north and there were quite breathtaking views of mountains and valleys as the national road twisted and turned.   

And then- then we got to Hotel Kara and before I could wipe the drool from my mouth over the beautiful, large, clean swimming pool I jumped in and proceeded to splash around for a while --- like a pig in poop, as my friends later said.  I donned my cap and goggles and enjoyed a half our of laps—floating on my back, looking up at the blue sky and palm trees, I didn’t feel like I was in Togo anymore—I was on a vacation and it was so lovely.   I shall be making this 90 minute trip more often!

After two hours in the pool we go out and headed for an amazing dinner of hamburgers and banana splits. Again, not in Togo- I’m on vacation! We saved money on the lodging as a bunch of us stayed in a hostel like room that night. Not vacation, but cheap  it was clean and I’d slept in worse in places in Europe! Of course, the next day when we had nowhere to be- no pool to get to- the post bus – the very same one from the day before (with the man still under it fixing something) ran perfectly back to Sokode, even getting us there early. Togo Togo.

Have a feeling the next 6 weeks are going to fly: headed south to Kpalime with Bek for the week to shadow a volunteer. A few weeks in LT when I hope to conduct some community activities and another trip south for shadowing another volunteer.  It was so great to be with our group again and we are all looking forward to being together for a whole week at the end of October for more training.

August in review

I was planning to never have to write month-long recaps again after I finally got my Internet key, but then Togo taught me (another) lesson.  Four days after my key came in, I rode my bike with my computer and bag strapped to the back and the roads of a developing country are not meant for electronics, ugh. Thankfully, my sweet friend Rebekah is letting me borrow her computer for now.

Where to begin? August was our first official month as PCV’s and at post.  Overall (hindsight is always 20/20) it was a good month, definitely filled with some tough days (kept track on the calendar again) but, I survived and that’s saying a lot at this point!  My goal for August was to observer, observe, observer; taking in as many details and aspects of the day-to-day activities in LT.  I spent a lot of time at Aposto’s gallery, helping with batiking but also sitting under the paillote (Togo version of a gazebo) reading various PC training manuals and the NGO’s information.  On Saturdays, LT swells to three times its size as people from the surrounding villages convene to sell the products from their fields and gardens and other miscellaneous things.  The overflowing market area with lots of new faces and cars, the rows and rows of shacks filled with ‘marche mamas’ in their nicest pagna (local, crazy fabric) outfits and carefully placed piles of produce, me being the only white person these people have seen in a while (maybe ever) is all quite entertaining and interesting to take in.  My host mom sells various cosmetics at one stand and she loves to parade me around when I come to say hello. Of course, this is also the hot spot for Tchouk drinking on Saturdays as the back of the market is lined with straw shacks and benches.

Halfway through the month people celebrate the beginning of the yam harvest (this is yam country) and Aposto and some other members of the NGO and I headed south about 20 minutes to Adjengre where we partook in a local ‘yam fete.’ This was basically a day for drinking Tchouk, eating lots of fried bean cakes, and then pounding the boiled yams and gorging ourselves on fufu.  I really love fufu.  Really though, it depends on which sauce you eat it with as  boiled yams have little flavor themselves. (I prefer peanut or pumpkin sauce). Similar in consistency to thick mashed potatoes, its served cold and you eat with your fingers. Messy goodness!

Ryan, a PCV in Sokode and I also ventured to Sotobough for a few days to observe “Take Our Daughters To Work” camp  being put on by local PCV’s. The point of the week is for girls from smaller villages to spend a week learning about other careers and job possibilities that they may not otherwise see in their respective villages.  They went on field trips to visit successful business women and had sessions on self-esteem, sexual and reproductive health (most likely the first time they had been exposed to such information), and income generating activities all led by PCV’s. It was really inspiring to watch the PCV’s in action and knowing there were two girls from LT in the crowd. 

My world was rocked when I returned from that trip to compound filled with Muslim women all very quiet (a rare thing for Togolese people).  After asking what was going on my host mother came over and very solemnly told me that little Adenan, her only child had died that morning.  She had tears in her eyes but was quiet.  I looked around in shock, disbelief and confusion and just lost it.  Luckily Michael happened to call who quickly alerted my mom who was on the phone with me soon after.  Adenan, this sweet 3-year-old (or around there) and I had forged quite the bond in those first few weeks.  We played each time I left and returned to my house, he was just beginning to say my name, we shared food with each other.  I had taught him to blow bubbles only a few nights before in his ‘medicine’ bath.  I had started to consider him mine.  He brought me so much joy and now he was gone.  I sobbed on my porch for two hours, surrounded by wide-eyed staring women while my host mother sat with me and wiped my tears trying to soothe me. It was terrible.  They had said he was sick, but he seemed to be getting better as we had been playing a lot lately.  Frustration built as I seemed to be the only one upset over this loss.  There are such cultural differences with grieving, knowing how and why someone dies, and the attitude towards death in general here.  Here I was sobbing at the loss of this little boy – who brought me so much joy and laughter – while the people around me were silent, sad yes, but silent.  Death is common here, especially for children.  The tipping point was when I learned there would be no service, no funeral, nothing to recognize Adenan’s life and I had to get out of there.  After a two hour  bike ride back to LT I got back on my bike and went to Sokode to collapse and cry and vent at Rebekah’s.  It was a very challenging  and exhausting weekend and needless to say I think about and miss Adenan every day. 

August was also the month of Ramadan for the predominantly Muslim community in this area, LT included.  After fasting for a month, my host family was ready to celebrate and I was lucky enough to be included in the party where we ate Thanksgiving-style for two days.  Several servings of fufu and rice and I was carbed-out! Was fun to just ‘hang’ with my family for those couple of days when all we did was eat and prepare to eat again!

Lorena was the PCV before me in LT and I was lucky enough to have her with me for two weeks in August.  During that time I tried to pick her brain as much as possible about who she has worked with, projects she has done, people/places to avoid, just trying to soak up everything she had to offer.  Lorena is who I have to thank for my new house and amazing host family as she went out of her way to arrange that for me.  We also sat down with Aposto one day, transferring knowledge between the three of us on what they had done together with his business and the NGO and what the future looks like.  Thankful to have Lorena translate as my French is still quite shaky and catch roughly 50% of conversations.  At the end of the two hour conversation on the work to be done, Aposto said to me, “I hope you’re ready to dance with us!”  Lorena and Aposto built an incredible relationship and friendship and I am so thankful to  be able to pick up where she left off.  On her last night in LT we celebrated over some chicken stew with NGO staff and Aposto and Lorena ‘passed the torch’ (lighted candles) to me.  It was pretty cool (especially knowing how rare and special this PCV/counterpart relationship is) and I am looking forward to being busy with work.  Lorena if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.  I can’t thank you enough for making my transition so smooth and seamless. 

I told my host dad I wanted to order a few things from the carpenter.  In good Togo fashion, the carpenter showed up randomly one night at 7 p.m. to discuss what I wanted.  So there we were, me, my host dad, and this carpenter sitting on my porch, the only light from the flashlights on our cellphones discussing what a dresser looks like.  I drew pictures, wrote dimensions, translated the words, and am still crossing my fingers that I get something that resembles what I had in mind, or is useful at least! And yes, you heard right, still waiting on those items.  PCV’s have been known to go and sit at their carpenters shop to make sure they make their items after they’ve tired of waiting months; I’m prepared to do so except because he came to me, I have no idea where his shop is! However, my desire to quit living off the floor and out of a suitcase will drive me to track him down!

My relationship with God is growing stronger each day as He is the one constant companion I have in each moment of this adventure.  Each morning I read from a devotional (thank you Linda) and have been more interested in reading the Bible than ever before.  Like Rev. Mike says, “God is with you at every turn, providing everything you need.” I’ve so thankfully found a few churches in LT who have welcomed me with open arms and who’s services (while I understand bits and pieces) I really enjoy.  Ironically, the very routine and order that drove me nuts in the Catholic church in the states, is now something I really appreciate as the Catholics start and end when they say they will! Other churches may last 90 minutes, two hours, you just never really know.  But the Catholics, they stick to the schedule and I love it!  Had to chuckle when I realized this sitting in church last Sunday!

I’ve kept a discoveries/lessons learned, things I’m thankful for list and it has helped me be present in each moment and see the blessings that I know are there each day.  As I head into September and start to strategize some community meetings and activities I’d like to do next month, waiting to find a French tutor (they have moved school back to now start in October and most of the teachers are still gone) I’m keeping a list of “Living out Goal 2 & 3”—sharing Togo with the US and vice versa.  This is in conversations with my host family, the NGO staff, kids, anyone I interact with.  From the discussions with my host brother about the importance of nutrition, to teaching my 13-year-old host sister the alphabet, to her standing over instructing me as to how to properly scrub  a mat on my hands and knees; that’s living out PC’s goal 2 &3. This is my attempt to feel useful; like I’m accomplishing something.

Having said that, September has brought its own challenges and rough days already.  I just had gotten used to sitting and reading on my porch for hours, just ‘being’, walking around and ‘hanging out’ and now I’ve got to start putting myself out there more, digging a little deeper with the people, and start doing and organizing things, brainstorming projects. Yes, it’s exactly what I want –work- and to be busy- but the challenge is steep and scary and unknown.  All things I wanted when I signed up for this – but now as it stares me in the face it feels like I’m being told to not only ‘do work’ with the people, but do it standing on your hands and walking backwards.  Live in their culture, survive the conditions, speak their language, and do meaningful, worthwhile and sustainable work.  I’m sure it will come, they all say it will, but right now that’s how I feel.  I’ve put it in God’s hands.  I believe He has laid these passions, dreams, and desires to be here, living among these people, and working alongside them on my heart and I must trust He will continue to show me the way. Patience.

Finally, running, once again is keeping me sane.  I feel empowered, rejuvenated, energized and have my  best ideas on my runs.  I’ll leave you with a few of them:

Togolese paradoxes:

The food is filling; but nutritionally empty.

The people don’t know me from the milkman; but welcome and love me as one of their own.

The landscape is beautiful; but the elements will destroy you.

The work is all around me; yet I have no idea where to begin.

Life is simple; yet each day is a struggle.

This is the choice I’ve made. The struggle I signed up for. Each day, (each day!) I must remind myself that while I am adapting and adjusting, learning and growing, it’s never, ever going to be easy. 

I welcome ANY and ALL mail!

Here is my address:

Taylor Schaa 

Corps de la Paix

B.P.224

Sokode, Togo

West Africa

A long, overdue update... thoughts on the past 2 months

Sorry & Thank you.

Friends and family,

It has been too long since I last wrote, and for this I apologize.   The internet access in Tsevie (the town we have been in for the past 2 months for training- about 1 hour north of Lome) is less than average as the one internet café is more of a headache than helpful.  Anyway, I’ve spent the past few days preparing a few updates to re-cap the past two months, and now that we have finished training (yes, can you believe it?!) we are back in Lome for Swear-In and shopping before we depart for our posts on Friday (8/5).

Before I begin, I need to thank some very special people.  My mom, Grandma Pat, and Aunt Tracy have made it their personal missions to assure that I have an adequate supply of protein in my diet.  While there is some meat (mostly beef and chicken) small quantities are expensive and doesn’t keep (lack of refrigeration) so therefore it’s more work for our host families to prepare.  We also have tofu, beans, and eggs that I eat on a regular basis, but the amount of protein is still a small fraction to the overwhelming amount of carbs (spaghetti, rice, bread) that are the main staple here. Anyway, these amazing women have sent many packages of tuna, chicken, and protein powder and it has really helped to fill in the gaps.  THANK YOU, I am so grateful to have your incredible support.  Also, thank you mama for relaying my news to Togo to the rest of the world in my ‘absence.’ My sister, who I miss dearly, has also been great in keeping me updated with the latest news in people and events.  My sweet boyfriend, Michael has played a big role in keeping me going through these past two challenging months.  Thank you for the phone calls, letters, and love. I am so thankful for your continued effort to go out of your way to be with me on this journey.  Last but surely not least, my wonderful friends who have sent cards of encouragement and support. Thursday has been mail day for us while in training, and each week it was like a mini-Christmas as we were like kids in a candy store with the small but precious pieces of home. A sincere thank you to those of you who took the time to go to the post office and figure out how much a stamp to Togo costs—truly invaluable to me!  

For those of you who have dropped a note on Facebook or checked my blog (only to be disappointed-sorry again), thank you for thinking of me, it means so much. I’m looking forward to remaining ‘connected’ –Togo style- from here on out, as I will be purchasing a wireless card to take to post.

First two weeks

The first two weeks of training were pretty rough.  Current PCV”s said they would be- and they weren’t kidding.  While it’s difficult to prepare for such a great unknown, it’s also very difficult to describe as you’re feeling and experiencing so much at once. Finally, it all came to a head and I just let it out.  I’ll never forget that phone call to my mom, sobbing and asking her what the heck I was doing here.  I dreaded making this call as I didn’t want to worry her and I didn’t want to admit I was struggling and full of fear and doubt.  Thankfully, mom was strong and unwavering in her belief in me and my ability to get through it.   When I finally could put the struggle into words it went something like this: Training pushes the extremes on every level a human can feel and experience: physically, you have got to adapt to a new climate and since it was the tail end of hot season when we arrived in June, we were sweating non-stop and the heat and humidity was inescapable and therefore very draining.  Additionally, the change in diet (frequency, size, and consistency of meals) and relying on others to feed us was also playing with our energy level. Intellectually, we were being thrown into learning a brand new language with French classes each day and then attending sessions almost just as frequently with information on the business environment/economy of Togo and the work we would be doing as Small Enterprise Development (SED) volunteers.  It was mentally exhausting trying to take in a foreign language while learning about the poverty and sometimes dire circumstances (you were living and walking around in) you were here to improve.  Psychologically, while the rest of you is sweating, craving a pizza, struggling to comprehend, and overwhelmed with the living conditions, your brain begins to tell you to get the heck out of dodge.  And finally, emotionally your separated from the very people who would be the ones to tell you to keep going, keep pushing through.  It was really difficult to go home each night after a day of work and only have to work some more to communicate with your host family.  I would tell my good friend here, Vanessa, “if only some of family/friends were here with us, then we could do this.” It truly looked bleak and impossible for a while.  When I finished explaining to mom all of these maxed out ‘ally’s’, she just paused and said, “Well yeah Taylor, it’s the Peace Corps.” Right, how could I forget?   While my host mom didn’t understand why I was crying all the time, I found comfort in Vanessa’s host mom who held me and let me cry as her children stared wide eyed in wonder at the strange white girl making a blubbery mess of herself.

I believe in letting yourself feel things, that the only way to get through them is to be honest with yourself and so I spent two nights that week just sobbing in my room, torturing myself looking through pictures of home.  But, eventually I stopped.  I thought of the advice from one of my best friend’s Amy, “if you really hate it and it’s bad for like a month, you can come home.” While I never really considered coming home, I did start keeping track of the days by denoting each with a happy or sad face on the calendar in my room.  I told myself if the sad days out numbered the happy ones by the end of June then I would reassess the situation.  Thankfully, the days not only improved and my body, mind, and attitude adjusted and adapted to the conditions, but I also forgot all about keeping track on the calendar. 

On a different note, I was and continued to be very impressed with the Peace Corps training and trainers who are local Togolese. Those first two weeks were filled with French classes with one or two other trainees and a Togolese instructor.  Specially trained in teaching language and working with American’s, they were incredibly patient and helpful.  Technical training sessions on small businesses and nonprofits in Togo were led by technical trainers who had studied and worked in Togolese businesses their whole lives.  There were sessions on health led by the PC medical office’s two nurses (who are wonderful), bike sessions as we had to learn how to repair various parts of the mountain bikes we were given, and safety and security sessions so that we would be aware of the situation in Togo, studying issues and situations that past volunteers had encountered during their service.  Not only were the trainers patient and kind but they truly cared about us and wanted us to succeed in training and be as prepared as possible for our posts. I will miss these kind people who I now call my friends.  

Turning 24

After a month of training my 24^th birthday arrived and our group welcomed an excuse to let loose and have something celebrate.  Rather than going out to eat (limited options) we decided to go to the market and prepare dinner at our school which has a kitchen with a gas stove.  Having ridden an elephant for my 23^rd birthday in Thailand last year, I decided this year I would kill a chicken for our dinner.  This sounded like a great idea and after I declared I would do it, the boys in our group excitedly found a chicken and a sharp knife; they were ready to see this.  Let’s just say it took me a while and a little forcing and hand holding as I couldn’t get myself to grab its neck and get it over with.  In the end I’m glad I did it, but man, did that process it given me a whole new perspective on preparing and eating chicken.  Chickens here don’t eat too well so after plucking the feathers, gutting, and cutting apart the bird, we discovered how puny the meat was; I was quite disappointed.  It’s safe to say American and Togo chicken are very different things. However, we ate well that night with rice and lots of vegetables. 

We tried our best to have an American Fourth of July later in the week.  Everyone pitched in and bought some fruit, bread, homemade tortilla chips, bean dip, and a pig which the boys roasted the night before.  It was good to have a day to just hang and be with the large group.

Around that same time, we met with our SED boss, Alex to discuss potential post assignments and what we would like in our future villages and homes for the next two years.  I had my requests ready J I told Alex I only wanted three things: a good counterpart (the person who you will work most closely with in village), the opportunity to do NGO (non-governmental organizations) work as I speak NGO- not business like most other SED projects, and a smaller village not too far from Lome/up country.  I didn’t want to be in the sticks (Savanna region) which is a long 12 hour bus ride from Lome. 

A week later, Alex answered my requests by assigning me to Lama-Tessi.  A village of about 10,000, LT is about a 5 hour ride from the capital and located right on the national (and best/only paved road in country) road so it’s very accessible (no 2 hour ride from the road on a motorcycle to get to village like some volunteers endure).  What’s more, my counterpart would be Aposto, a Togolese artisan famous throughout Peace Corps Togo for his batiking business and work with a current PCV, Lorena.  Lastly, Aposto helped to form and manages a faction of a national NGO working on health issues. YES, YES, YES!

A week in Lama-Tessi

The second week in July we headed off to spend a week in our new villages.  Our counterparts had come down the day before to have an orientation with PC staff and then we all traveled together bright and early the next day.  There were only five of us and our counterparts for a total of ten in the van and we knew this would probably be the first and last ride to our posts with that few of passengers, so we enjoyed every minute.

We arrived in LT in the early afternoon and I got settled in my new home. Yes, it’s so new that it wasn’t even finished yet.  The cement had dried but they were still working on the drop ceiling, steps for the porch, and finishing my latrine and shower.  I live in a compound with one other family who is building these apartment-like homes.  So far I am the only one to occupy the new building while they store their grain in the other.  My host mom is great, and crazy buff. I had to tell myself to quit staring at her massively defined arms!  My host father is a teacher and so thankfully they both speak French in addition to the local language.  They have electricity and the plan is for it to also be installed in my house soon.  My house is two cement rooms with a spacious porch which I am very excited for.  I will have one room for my kitchen/living room and one for my bedroom.  While I was there that week, the family let me use their facilities (i.e. literally a hole in the ground as the latrine and an outdoor half-hut for a shower.  It was quite the experience J It was cooler in LT as it rained almost every day which brought cooler mornings and evening s when I wore long-sleeves and pants– I even saw my breath one morning!

The week was filled with lots of short meetings to meet the VIP’s of LT and down time.  I read two books that week.  While I struggled with this (5 open hours in the middle of the day for example) the first couple of days, I started to get the hang of it by the end of the week.  I enjoyed sleeping in (as much as possible as the call to prayer-LT is very Muslim- goes off around 4:30 am and the chickens/guinea fowl/roosters are calling by 5 am), slow mornings of coffee and reading on my porch, a walk to the other side of town to meet with someone, lunch and more reading at my house, a run around the village and on the road before dinner, dinner in the daylight (challenging as its dark by 6:30) and in bed by 8 or 9.

While Aposto was away on business for the first part of my week, his colleague, Alex, took me around to meet the local chiefs on Sunday. Even though LT is small, we literally walked a total of 5 hours that day, making multiple trips back and forth if the chef wasn’t home the first time we tried.  Alex took great care of me, stopping on the way to introduce me to people and explain the PC in local language.  Additionally, as the kids called out to me ‘white person’ in local language, Alex would stop each individual child to tell them my name and that is what they are to call me.  We stopped at a large gathering of women where I introduced myself and they promptly gave me a new name in local language: Aisha.  Between the children and the women, most of the town knew and called after me by my new name by the time Friday came around. I was beginning to feel welcomed and comfortable.

Wednesday, I met Aposto and even got to batik with him a bit.  Thursday he introduced me to CRUSET Togo, the NGO I’ll hopefully get to work with.  While my French is still coming along, I listened carefully (exhausting!) and tried to pick up as much as I could.  I had visitors from three PCV’s throughout the week who were passing through LT.  It was so nice to have someone else to talk to –especially in English.  Friday afternoon the other volunteers in my region traveled about two hours to celebrate the week. 

Laundry

Laundry in Togo earns its own post.  I hereby swear to never complain about doing laundry in the States ever again.  During my first encounter with the Togolese style of hand-washing, I looked at my host mom and said, “in the States we have machines for this.” She looked at me, raised her hands and said, “machine one, machine two.” Right.  Wow laundry is a workout and feat all of its own. Initially my host brother and the house boy helped me but after I understood that they scrub each item not once or twice, but three times, I quickly decided that if I wanted to have any clothes left in six months I better just do it myself.  Plus, it’s an upper body workout , right? Yikes. All of us dread and complain about laundry day—we wait for the last possible day when we have no other items that don’t wreak of sweat and soiled in dirt, and then we spend 2 hours  vigorously scrubbing our knuckles raw attempting to ‘clean’ our clothes.  And then we pray that the wind will blow and the sun will come out and it won’t rain so that our work won’t be in vain. In rainy season (now) you begin to believe that washing at all is pointless.  All of thi                s has led me to a new comfort level of wearing dirty/smelly clothes, especially workout clothes.  Additionally, we’ve developed new levels of ‘dirty’ of each item, based on its strength of stench and thus its urgency to be washed. Today, I do my laundry by myself, while my family watches and shakes their head at my one scrub method.  They may not be as clean but they will not be threadbare in a year either…hopefully.

Last two weeks & the future

Today (8/2) I packed my things again – my life into two bags.  It feels good. Good to finish training. Good to move onto a new place; a fresh start. I honestly never thought I’d survive nine weeks, but as we say a lot here, time will pass. I’m spending my last 300 Francs (about 75 cents) on fried delicious treats I’ve been avoiding in an effort to get through these past two weeks on limited budget.  This amount will get me ten banana fritters and eight beignets.  Yes, this is a lot fried food, don’t worry I won’t eat it all at once - but it also eliminates my need for chapstick and helps to keep all of my innards running smoothly. I never thought I’d love fried food so much – but when it’s close to your only choice, and it’s sweet – you can’t go wrong.

These past two weeks have been interesting. When we returned from post we were excited to be back together and be in a familiar place again.  I also was more motivated to improve my French; if only it would just come overnight!  The time was stressful due to the intensity of language classes two weeks ago and then last week was filled with presentations (all in French) and exams (culture, technical, French). In addition, with a small taste of freedom at post, it was difficult to come back to the rigidity and structure of training.  While post visit was both exciting – a taste of freedom – it was tough to come back to the structure of training and yet made us anxious to be on our own… for good. The good news: I survived, and I will become an official volunteer of Peace Corps Togo.

One reward for getting to this point will be receiving our ‘settling-in’ allowance.  This will be about twice the amount of money we will make on a monthly basis as volunteers.  I’m fortunate enough to be in a replacement post, and will be inheriting Lorena’s things and therefore will be able to go crazy at the supermarket in Lome.  I also plan to purchase an internet access key, a lounge chair/cot for my porch, paint for my fresh, new cement walls, and I will have a couch made once I get back to Lama Tessi.  Oh, and electricity, which should only cost me about $6-$8 a month once I get it installed.

Light-bulb moments:

While each day (and throughout the day for that matter) brings different feelings/emotions/attitudes towards this adventure, I’ve enjoyed the moments where I get excited and feel like I’m in the right place.  

For example, the other day we had a session on Village Savings & Loans (VSL’s) which volunteers in our sector (SED) work to establish.  VSL’s give women (usually who sell things in the market) the chance and organization to save a little bit of money each week and then take out loans with what they and others have saved, repaying with interest.  As the volunteer put it, working with the poorest of the poor.  Light bulbs: Oh yeah, I smiled to myself, that’s why I came here, that’s what I’ve dreamed of doing.

Another day I had a ‘light bulb’ moment was when we visited a pre-school (very rare) and apprentice program right here in Tsevie.  The center was run by an NGO and after we toured the facility (special songs by adorable little 3 and 4 year-olds, apprentice classroom for female tailors who have dropped out of school) we met with their directors who explained the workings of the organization.  I turned to Vanessa and said, this, this is the work I’ve been craving to be a part of. 

I-can-do-this moments:

Other really great experiences – techniques being put into practice – have happened throughout training too. 

Such things as one of the volunteer’s counterpart coming to speak to us about his fertilizer/pesticide business that he created in his small village and is now distributing to surrounding countries.  Or a woman who works with another SED volunteer who makes hand-made batik clothing and items and is now working with a few large retailers in the States.  We also watched a group of volunteers lead a group of about 5 young girls in an Income Generating Activity (IGR).  The PCV’s taught the girls how to make Neem lotion, liquid soap, and popcorn.  This gave the volunteers the opportunity to teach the importance of creating and following a budget for a project, calculating your costs to ensure you make a profit off the items you sell, while also empowering girls to make money for themselves (often to pay for school fee’s) and sharing simple – yet important health information. 

Another such moment came last week when we lead a community engagement activity with some of our host families.  It was our first time on our own, leading an activity with locals in French. Eek. We chose the yearly calendar activity.  The point of the calendar is for the participants to be able to see where they spend their resources throughout the year, so they can better prepare for the future (i.e., knowing school fees will be due in September, so when you have more money from harvest in July, save some of it). It was a very interesting experience as we separated the men and the women (each has very different activities)  so as to get an accurate picture (often only men will talk in meetings) .  I got a first-hand look at how even more crucial preparation is when you’re speaking (and writing) in another language.  Wow.  There is however the flexible element that you must have, but you really can’t (or at least I can’t yet) ‘wing-it’ when you have a limited vocabulary!

Random (interesting) thoughts:

Local Language is really something here.  Togo has 40 some local languages, while the primary language-what kids learn in school, is French.  My local language will be Coti-Coli which is what the Muslims of LT speak, while non-Muslims (the minority in LT) speak Cabiea. Learning a local language, with its different alphabet and sounds is interesting to say the least.  We only learned the main greetings as that is what is most important for integration.  Basically, if you can say hello and how are you as you pass by someone (each person) in local language, not only will they be really excited and think you are fluent in but they will most likely be very nice and welcoming.  It’s all about making the effort.  Having said that, Coti-Coli traditions for greeting one another is extensive and exhausting.  You say good morning and then proceed to ask: how is the work, how is your family, how is your health, your house? To which they mumble in response, good, good good as they walk past you. Very interesting and take some getting used to!

Togo has taught me (already) how quickly one must adapt to things not working out (in order to not go crazy). A part of me really believes you have to expect the worse from each situation but hope and prepare for the best.  This may sound pessimistic, but it’s the reality of the fact with the pace of life here and the organization and logic(or lack-there-of).  Kind of like you must be ready for anything –with back-up plans for back-up plans. More to come on this thought I’m sure …

Running has kept me sane during training.  There are four of us who would run on a gravel road out of town four times a week.  We ran at dawn (the day starts very early here- much to my liking) as it’s the coolest part of the day and we had to be to class by 7:30 each morning.  It took my lungs a few times to adjust to the humidity as I struggled to get through 30 minutes – quite humbling.  Our bodies have an amazing ability to adapt (as I continue to see and feel on a continuous basis) though and now I can comfortably run for an hour. 

It’s work to live here.  Each morning after my run, I drew water from the well and filled my gallon bucket to take a bucket shower in a cement room.  Showering.  I’ve never loved it so much –however you’re never really clean as you tiptoe back to your room trying so hard not to get your feet dirty.  Because you would get so sweaty and dirty from walking in dirt and sand all day, I looked forwarded the bucket shower and ice cold water to cool down before I crawled under my mosquito net and onto my bed.   Everything takes longer here as one can imagine.  I learned this first hand one day as I really wanted a cup of coffee after lunch but felt bad asking my families houseboy to boil water after he just made my lunch.  So, I volunteered to light the charcoal stove myself and quickly learned to appreciate modern conveniences and that ‘simple’ cup of instant coffee as the entire process took nearly 30 minutes. 

There is very little childhood here as kids start working around the house by the age of 8 or 9. Yet they are happy – so very happy, singing while they work and always smiling.  Greetings are very important in Togolese culture and the kids are especially excited to greet us (albeit in local language ‘yovo’ –white person) each time we pass by.  Ask them how they are and they will always respond with very well.  Fascinating as they are half-clothed, covered in dirt, and playing in the street in front of the shack they call home. 

I was repeatedly impressed with the Togolese Peace Corps trainers and administration staff.  Not only were they exceptionally patient with our French skills and helping us adapt, but they helped line up various things that would be difficult to figure out on one’s own.   To name a few:

·         helped us prepare for post visit by helping to list out all of the things we would need (not like staying a hotel with restaurants for a week)

·         set up bank accounts so that our living allowances could be deposited each month,

·         spending an afternoon teaching us to prepare some of the local dishes (various sauces and fried things)

·          asking for our feedback on the training, including technical and French class

·         spending ample time with our counterparts to prepare them about what to expect from us, how to treat us (well), etc.

·         providing detailed and thorough health and safety and security sessions conducted by PC Togo’s two medical officers and safety and security officers. 

These people are looking out for us; you can tell they truly care and I am so thankful.

Some News and More Lessons Learned... via mom (hopefully for the last time:)

Taylor has been to her see new post Lama Tessi, that is north of Tsevie, this past week and was really happy with it. They have built her a new home (2 rooms) made entirely of concrete, and she will inherit the current PCV's furniture who is leaving. She was thrilled to see a bookcase full of books! (She read 2 books last week and was fearful of running out of reading material.) She will have her own shower room and latrine, and hopefully will have electricity when she returns for the rest of her stay beginning in August. It is then she hopes to be able to get on and blog...she has passed along some things she has learned about life and about herself- IN TAYLOR'S WORDS:
     1.a smile is a smile in every language...thank goodness!
     2. how to draw my own water from the well
     3. By owning your fears and anxieties, bringing them into the light-they lose their power.
     4. my mental and physical ability to adapt to new circumstances, i.e. bucket showers :)
     5. my perception of time/distance-within Togo and beyond
     6. Catholic Mass is more fun (jovial, singing, dancing, laughing) than some masses in the USA (even if they    are 3 hours long!)

She wants all who have been texting her, that she has not been able to receive texts..we don't know why..

Taylor will send me her new address in Lama Tessi when she knows it, and I will post it on Facebook and here, until then, please don't send anything as she may not receive it! Thanks to all that have sent things, she really appreciates it!