America IS beautiful

Wow, was I ever reminded of this recently.  I was fortunate enough to be able to travel home to Iowa for 2 weeks recently and was pleasantly surprised at just how amazing America is.  Second year PCV’s talk about it like it’s heaven and this was quite strange to me in the first months of my service.  But now I understand.  It’s interesting how you begin to accept your surroundings and life here and Togo and forget how truly different the developed world is.

I had a feeling I would feel a bit strange or overwhelmed with my first encounters of the developed world but I had no idea they would be this clear. My first flight was from Ghana to Amsterdam when we landed at 7 am the awareness was at its peak:

-         - Squealing (literally) at the cold air on the jet bridge

-          -In the bathroom:

o   Jumped when the toilet flushed automatically 

o   Washed my hands three times in the hot running water just because I could

o   Noticed the mom changing her young daughter out of her pajamas and into her day clothes. Thought immediately of Togolese children and their change of outfits or lack thereof. (For a while, I related everything to Togo. This went away surprisingly quickly.)

-          -Realized I can drink the water out of the fountains/ there were fountains to drink out of!

-          -Enjoyed the uniquely dressed Europeans

-          -Admired couples showing affection in public (unheard of in Togo)

-          -Even more fascinated at the diversity; cultures and ethnicities

-          -Walked through a book/gift shop and amazed at the amount of things and how shiny everything was.

-          -Excited to see/hear Americans and English

-          -Amazed at how easy the flights has been (smoothly the airports/travel operates)

-          -Noticed how Americans can get a bad reputation for being loud and obnoxious as I stood behind a family of 12 traveling back from a safari in Kenya

-          -At the same time, felt so strange being able to understand everything

-          -Watched intently as the mama in front of me fed her toddler some juice/fruit drink for kids (thought of Togolese mamas feeding their kids fried dough)

If you counted, that was 14 things. Fourteen observations in under an hour.  When I landed in the U.S. with nearly 24-hours of travel under my belt I only had a few more distinct culture shocks; Target, cars, coffee. 

I had forgotten something so Michael and I stopped by Target on our way from the airport.  PCV’s dream of Target but I hadn’t had time to prepare for this coveted experience.  Michael, knowing this might be a tad overwhelming, held my hand tight and quickly directed me to the area we were looking for.  Surprisingly, I made it through the produce section but it was the dishware that got me.  We were passing by the isle where there were three styles of place settings on display and I just paused to take in the beautiful colors, designs, and the incredible way everything matched.  It was so beautiful so simple, made so much sense, and soon I was crying. Michael patiently comforted me and we quickly made our purchase and got out of there. 

I was also acutely aware of vehicles for a while.  Why was there only one person in these giant SUV’s and even in four door sedans? It seemed a bit crazy for only one person to be driving when at least 4 more people could fit (Togo).  Finally, the next morning Michael headed for Starbucks as he knew this was going to be a big moment that I’d waited for.  “Drive through,” he asked? “No way- I want to smell it,” I exclaimed! And man, was it wonderful. My first coffee shop, with its delicious sights and sounds, let alone the amazing coffee itself! Wow – was that wonderful. 

The next two weeks proceeded to go quickly- too quickly but I worked hard to stay present, enjoying each moment.  We visited Michael's family, had a belated Christmas with my family, had some quality sister time with Maddie in Iowa City, enjoying the beautiful campus and cool crisp air.  Michael and I spent a weekend in Des Moines where I scheduled coffee, lunches, dinners and drinks so as to be able to see everyone.  The rest of the time was spent in my hometown where I made a few presentations to Rotary and Kiwanis Clubs and a couple of elementary classrooms about my experience thus far.  Words don’t really do my time in America justice.  Being able to see people from high school, college, and my Des Moines days, time playing cards around my family’s kitchen table, running to the store anytime we thought of something, biking and running in the mild winter temperatures, enjoying all of the food I had put on a ‘to-eat’ list and overall just drinking in every moment of the comfortable life. It was blissful. A very special and big MERCI BEAUCOUP for the amazing people who made this time so meaningful.

All of this wonderful-ness has made the transition back to Togo a bit challenging.  I knew it was going to be really hard missing people and I felt I had tried to mentally prepare myself for this before I left Togo.  What I didn’t prepare for was the adjustment of leaving the conveniences and comforts of the developed world and returning to the way of life in Togo.  Yes, I cried a lot on the return flights.  But they were tears of leaving the people who are very special to me.  I had no idea in the days to come I’d be crying at the challenge and culture shock of re-entering into this life I’ve chosen. 

Knowing I would be struggling this first week back, I arranged to come stay with Vanessa in her village.  Thank God for this angel in my life.  Patient, calm, tolerant, laid-back, Vanessa is in a lot ways- everything I’m not.  She has listened patiently as I vent about the frustrations and backwardness of Togo. She hugs me when I cry and miss Michael and my family.  She smiles as we sweat like pigs walking through her village, gathering things for lunch.  She grins and bears it when her running water stops running or when packs of children scream ‘yovo’ (white person) wherever we go.  She reminds me of the beautiful and nice things about Togo as I gripe and complain about how backwards things work here. I know this is in part because of her wonderful, nature and spirit but it’s also because she hasn’t left, hasn’t been reminded of the other way of living.  I was blessed to be able to enjoy a few weeks in the comfort of the US and now I feel like I’m paying for it a little bit.  I’m readjusting… slowly.

One last situation and then I’ll get out of the pity pool. There is a second year PCV here in Badou who I really admire and look up to.  She has been here a year and a half and is a model volunteer in my mind – what’s more, she has a great attitude about her life and work here.  Before she left for vacation (she too visited the States), she had gone through all the procedures to establish a girls club at the middle school.  Tuesday was her first meeting and I was very excited to watch and learn from this seasoned volunteer.  In my mind, the meeting went horribly.  Terrible.  But you’d never know it by the look on the face of the PCV and the enduring spirit and energy she gave throughout the entire thing.  The girls showed up 30, 60, even 90 minutes late.  Girls showed up who were not in the group and she had to go through the attendance list over and over. Kids played loudly right outside the door so she was forced to yell to be heard to the group of 30.  When she finally got to the lesson 90 minutes from the start time of the meeting, she was met with blank stares.  Introducing a brand new concept (goal setting) to this group of young teens was like speaking to a brick wall.  Thankfully, one of the PCV’s counterparts and a teacher at the school was there and he helped her when the girls weren’t picking up her French (which is good) or understanding her examples.  AHHHHH I’m thinking! This PCV followed all the procedures to make sure this would work, was well prepared with handouts and visual aids, yet it was still a struggle. But, she took it all in stride and left the meeting able to smile and chuckle about what had happened.

Lesson: Even after a year-and-a-half of work in her village, Togo is still Togo.  But it’s me who must change.  I, as the PCV, must adapt, change, adjust my standards, my expectations, my frustration meter.  I must remember the pace of life in Togo. I must remember that only a small, motivated few are going to understand, receive your message and be willing to work with you. Remember that half of your day could be spent searching for the office to pay your water bill (out in the boonies in Badou with only one sign to point you in the general direction). 

Deep breaths and run time.  And prayer. Lots of prayer and seeking the little blessings God's planted along my path reassuring of me of my purpose here, back in Togo.

Joyeux Noel - one for the books.

Joyeux Noel – Merry Christmas! As my friend Vanessa says, “one for the books.”

My first Christmas away from home and without freezing temperatures and snow fared pretty well.  Vanessa and I are together at the PCV house/workstation in Atakpame which is about 4 hours south of LT.  The house has all the coveted amenities: running water, refrigerator, toaster oven, shelves of old movies and books from past PCV’s.  Best of all – it’s just me and Ness here. So it was a quiet, mellow lazy day. 

I was planning to take the day off from running but after the call to prayer from the nearby mosque went on for an extra thirty minutes at 5 am this morning, I decided to go for a quick out and back around Atakpame.  In the States I usually try and run on Christmas morning; sneaking out after we open stockings and while my family is getting ready to go to my grandma’s house.  I smiled, stepping out into the dawn of a new day in Togo, thinking about how different this Christmas run will be.

As I stepped out onto the road, I thought about the change in scenery; flat, open, snow-covered Iowa fields traded in this Christmas for the rocky hills of this “city” in Togo.  Freezing temperatures and snow piles for humidity and palm trees.  Avoiding wandering goats instead of dangerous icy spots. Breathing in burning trash and diesel exhaust rather than cool, crisp, clean Iowa air.  Enjoying the contrast of elevation from Iowa as I manage my way up the steep hills of the Atakpame coast on the descent.    

Some things stay the same though, I thought to myself. I passed people freshly showered (good smells are a rare luxury here) and on their way to Christmas Mass.  People donned in puffy coats and stocking hats as they zipped by on their motorcycles–it’s cold here right now you know (77 ˚F to be exact).  And knowing I was going back to a hot cup of real coffee (thank you Rachel Kennedy) made me smile realizing we’re all not that different. Interesting too how the day seemed to go on like just another day. The song that talks about no snow down in Africa -with the chorus “Do they Know it’s Christmastime at all” popped into my head as truck drivers loaded up their semi’s, mama’s carried huge basins of water from the local pump to their homes on their heads, and as people stood outside their doors, cleaning their teeth with wooden sticks.  I guess, I thought to myself, things like this go on in the States too – people not recognizing the special day, but being in Togo has made incredibly more aware of the differences – and similarities, an aspect I really value in this experience.  

As if on cue, Togo brought me out of my dreamy like state and back into the real world as my host dad called me- not to wish me a Merry Christmas- but to ask again if I could buy him a computer when I’m in the States.  A running joke (sort of) with Togolese— we are always suppose to bring them things.  (For example: I told one guy I would bring him back a wife.)

Ness and I made pancakes for breakfast and it was just like home as she was itching to open the package my mom had sent and clearly labeled, “do not open before Christmas.”  We slowly pulled out the chocolate treats one by one.  We found "A Christmas Carol" among the stacks of DVD’s and we popped that in and enjoyed our mini candy bars-tastes of home. The night before we had made some Christmas crafts, watched "It’s a Wonderful Life" and enjoyed a pizza with real cheese (stores here carry Swiss!). 

We continued our craft making and planned our Christmas dinner. Ness made a traditional dish with plantains and meat.  I crafted my first pie crust and somehow our apple pie disappeared quickly (it was small).  A package of stuffing and a nice bottle of wine rounded out our Christmas dinner. It was simple and sweet.  Trying to go three-for-three with the holiday movies we popped in “Noel” which you’ve probably never heard of because it was that bad! 

A simple day, Ness and I talked about the simple things we have really come to appreciate over dinner. Our health, time with our families, the power of a shower were at the top of the list.   The discussion continued on what we’ve learned as far as ‘development’ goes and the similarities and contrasts of Togo.  As we marveled that 2011 is coming to a close I asked her what are the top three lessons she’s learned – or how she has grown this year.  The top of my list: learning how to really listen and the value in that, growing tolerance with a place that can be so backwards and with myself in changing and adapting with the  work here and my performance/success, awareness of myself -my body and health- and my surroundings, and my appreciativeness of the simple things.

A truly Joyeux Noel! Part of my story and one for the books…

A busy week of highs and lows.

They say this experience is one of extremes: days of high highs and days with low lows..this week proved such in some special moments and some indeed testing moments. 

Highs:

A productive day on Sunday (12-18-11): Church, laundry, enjoyed my homemade tomato soup, prepared and executed a basic lesson on nutrition for the group of women who meet on Sunday afternoons that went decently well. I explained that three meals of starches (rice for breakfast, yams for lunch, and pate – corn flour- for dinner—a normal day’s meals for most people) was not a healthy, balanced diet and that they should try incorporating at least one source of protein a day (eggs, tofu, meat, beans, fish – it all exists here, but some consider it expensive) and one fruit or vegetable. I attempted to lead a matching game where they drew cards with different items on them and they had to discern if it was a balanced meal or not. For example: drawing a tomato card and a yam card would be ‘good’ whereas a yam and a rice card were not ‘good.’ Simple concept obviously and I think they got it, but will any of them make any changes? At least now I can remind them when I see them around… they’ve been informed so now I’m on the lookout! 

I spent a few hours at my French tutor’s house that night translating a quick story I had written to French for Wednesday’s English Club. It was a pretty cool moment as one of his nephew’s (I’ve come to discover none of the kids are his, just living with him for the school year) who is about 12 and I sat there and translated into French. Not only could he read my scribbly handwriting but he understood the majority of the story! One of those sit back and smile, ‘this is PC’ moments.

Monday: two more nutrition discussions and English at the Middle school.

Tuesday: Biking to Sokode to retrieve the two packages from my sweet friends, Rachel and Legs (Katie). THANK YOU LADIES. I felt so special!  

Wednesday was another high point as I made my way to Blitta, a town off the main road about an hour south of LT.  Ryan and I were meeting PCVL Ben at his house to discuss Camp Espoir (the camp for kids affected or effected by HIV/AIDS).  Along with my other good friend Connor, the three of us will be assistants to Ben in planning and executing the 5 week event this summer. I caught a car heading south, filled with young college students heading back to Lome.  It’s always to be surrounded by educated young people, especially when they know Peace Corps and are respectful.  Coffee in hand, I smiled and had a ‘oh, this is a pretty cool experience’ moment. I text Vanessa that too—have to make the deposit in the ‘good stuff’ account for later in the week when I was cursing this pace!  The taxi motorcycle to Ben’s house was so nice too as the mornings here are cool and crisp and smelled and looked like fall. 

We then proceeded to have a very successful meeting discussing the planning and preparation stages for the next 5months including lots of idea sharing (Ryan is creative), explaining (Ben is the Espoir expert) and organizing (my list-crazy, OCD brain finally coming into use here!).  Color coded timelines, weekly objectives outlines and responsibility lists and I was a content girl!  The excitement and familiarity for planning and executing a big event (thank you YESS Duck Derby) overrode any anxiety about the amount of work ahead of us.

That afternoon I had my third English Club meeting and we read the story I had translated earlier in the week. Each kid was handed a new vocabulary word they had to listen for in the story, then write them on the board when they heard it.  This gave each of them a little responsibility and importance as we practiced definitions and pronunciations.

Friday and Saturday also fell into the ‘high’ category.  As Connor came up with a counterpart who wanted to learn to Batik with Aposto.  It was a relaxing day;  I made a few things and ate a whole plate full of fufu with my favorite sauce (peanut/tomato with cabbage and wagash- local fried cheese) that Nima made.  Melissa, a new PCV who lives south of me also came up to stay for the night.  While we were too full on fufu to make dinner, it made for a killer run Saturday morning.  We made delicious scrambled eggs and cinnamon/vanilla pancakes for breakfast and then they headed out and I packed up for my trip up to Bafilo. 

Lydia a fellow SED PCV lives about 90 min north of me in Bafilo and I hadn’t been there yet and I have lots of Velveeta to use (thank you mom and Karen Mason) so I headed up to have a Mexican themed dinner.  Bafilo is up in the mountainous part of the country and it was pretty walking around and meeting some of the people she works with.  Dinner was awesome as we made salsa, guacamole, beans, tortillas and cheese dip. 

If you’ll notice, I left out Thursday and Sunday from the ‘good’ list. Two days (which both had good endings) isn’t bad I guess.  Thursday’s debacle involved my window.  I was planning to spend the day videoing my host sister, Jamala for a ‘day-in-the-life-of-a-10-year-old’ but since the teachers are still striking in this part of the country there wasn’t any school.  It worked out as the night before my carpenter called and said my window was done (finally).  I was ready for him to come install it in my bedroom early Thursday morning. When he didn’t show up after two hours I called and he said he couldn’t find the mason (who would be the one actually putting a hole in my bedroom).  Fine, I said, I’ll find him. So I went straight to his house and asked if he was free. Seeing that he was I called the carpenter and let the two discuss. They said they would come ‘bientot’ (soon). I went home and waited some more.  Two more hours passed. Called the carpenter again and let my host mother talk to him this time.  He was busy at his shop and couldn’t find anyone to bring over the window. Okay, fine, I said, I’ll go get the window.  I make the 5 min walk across the road, pick up the window, keeping my frustrated thoughts to myself, thank him for his work , pass by the mason’s house, show him the window and say, ‘let’s go’.  By this time it’s 1pm and I’ve resigned to the fact that this will be a day-long process. Fortunately, the mason arrives quickly, and does a great job with the window.  I read the PC Lifeskills manual (for a girls club I’m hoping to start) and try not to think about the giant mess and hole he was creating in my bedroom.  After  few hours the work is finished and he cleaned up the mess; I was content.  The best part was when I asked him how much he smiled shyly and said, ‘no it’s a gift.’ I think he had picked up my frustration in dealing with the carpenter. No, I insisted, this is your job.  Grateful for his humbleness, good work and timeliness, I gave him a little extra and wished him a Merry Christmas. A long bike ride and lifting session as in store to finish out the afternoon and rid myself of any tension left from the morning!

Sunday, morning was wonderful as I enjoyed instant Starbucks coffee on Lydia’s roof, watching the sun come up over the surrounding hills, the afternoon took a nose dive as we headed to a small village close to Bafilo for an event that we were told was going to be about HIV/AIDS.  Starting two hours late (standard) the entire village had gathered (including about 20 important, toothless, illiterate and French-less, old men –the village chief’s) and it made for a perfect setting to discuss the reality of this pandemic, how to prevent it, explain treatment and living with infected.  Instead, the organizers spent the three hours skirting around the issue, stressing the importance of national identity cards, showing a variety of skits (in strange Togolese humor) and poems by the local ‘AIDS club’ kids- all in local language.  Finally when the director of the medical services spoke, he mentioned HIV/AIDS ONCE.  And that was the ‘HIV/AIDS’ portion of the event.  Lots of ‘prizes’ were handed out—have to give presents here, you know and then they wanted us to stay to have ‘refreshments’ with the chiefs afterwards. I was about ready to scream.  An hour later, holding back our super irritated and real thoughts on the event, we choked down the Coke they bought for everyone (great use of money) and finally got out of there.  I was able to collect my frustration on the moto ride back to Bafilo.  Sadly, I think this is how a lot of ‘events’ meant to educate happen in Togo.  The NGO that organized the event said that people won’t come if you tell them it’s going to be about HIV/AIDS (for many, they are just beginning to accept that it exists here) and you can’t talk about how to prevent it (condoms) with men and women present. Did I mention we were in an all Muslim village?  I knew these thoughts to be false from the events Aposto and the NGO in LT have conducted. They proudly display pictures showing condom demonstrations with huge groups of people and skits actually about the disease.

As I was leaving Lydia’s house in Bafilo, I closed my eyes, took a very deep breath and prayed God would ease my frustration, calm my upset stomach, and help me get back to LT (traveling on Sunday afternoons is risky as not many cars are running up and down the country) without too many travel headaches.  I felt lighter right away and made it home in a timely fashion.  Glad the day was over!

Now, this is my final week in LT until February.  I’ve got work to do for Espoir, lots of manual reading and lesson planning for when I return to village.  Hoping to spend tomorrow capturing Jamala’s day and visit a new PCV who  is close to me on Wednesday.  Thursday will be packing and preparing my house to leave and Friday I will head to Atakpame to join Vanessa for Christmas! 

While it doesn’t feel like the holidays here, I’m thinking about my friends and family lots as you prepare for the celebration this weekend. I wish you all a safe and very joyous holiday, praying you remember the reason we celebrate! 

Lome....Encore

It’s Sunday again. I’ve got homemade tomato soup simmering on the stove and I’m recovering from Lome…again. It was an interesting week indeed:

Monday I began the morning by discussing the importance of using soap each time you wash your hands to my host mom’s groupement. I used charcoal to represent ‘germs’ and to demonstrate that only using water to wash (common standard here) after using the bathroom, leaves the germs on your hands. They nodded in understanding (I hope) as I poured water over the woman I designated to use soap as the charcoal clearly washed off. I tried to stress that the germs will enter your stomach when you eat if you don’t use soap and then you will get sick and that this lesson is particularly important for children. My mom helped translate from Koti-Koli to French and while I have my doubts that any of them actually went home and insisted everyone use soap, I feel better at least knowing the information.
Mid-morning I went to the school to visit my French tutor’s English classes. What I found was absent teachers and classrooms full of rowdy, bored kids. Thankfully Mr. Sinya was there and explained the nationwide teacher strike going on. “We want better conditions, so we are not working today or tomorrow,” he said. Sadly, they weren’t explaining it to the kids but were expecting them to sit in their classrooms. I stood there trying to decide if I should try something with no lesson planned and having no supplies. After about 30 minutes of trying to explain a spelling game with one 7th grade class, I gave up and tried to go home. The 8th grade class next door insisted I come and help them with their English. Not having any materials (the class and I), we tried having question and answer time and then I helped them a bit with some of their homework. A struggle though as I realized I’m not even close to being fluent enough in French to explain why English is the way it is. Frustrated and exhausted I hid at home the rest of the afternoon until it cooled off enough to go for a run.

Tuesday morning I went for a bike ride after a strong cup of coffee and finished it off with a lifting session (thank you Lorena for leaving the sand packed liter bottles). The PC car heading down country to Lome (known as the Lome Limo—no it’s not an actual limo, but a clean, air conditioned van—so in Togo and PCV standards- pretty close to a limo!) picked me up on the road (about a 5 min walk from my house) and off we went. While it’s nice to be with friends, have the AC, not be smashed in with smelly Togolese, the trip is still long (7 hours) and bumpy/uncomfortable. Arriving in Lome, I was quickly reminded how hot and humid it remains and I began to sweat instantly. I downed an amazing hamburger at the hotel I would be staying at for the week. It was just what I needed and I was off to bed. (Side note: this hotel –where most PCV’s stay when in Lome- is nasty and more like a hostel with a community toilet for the upstairs rooms, soggy beds with who-knows-what’s-on-them sheets, and dampness. I lay as still as possible, trying to avoid thinking about the bed too much or moving as it’s so hot. Gross. But, they have wireless , a decent restaurant, within our budget range, and it’s close to the PC office, so we keep going back.) 

We were up early Wednesday morning (unable to really sleep past 6 am anyway) to head to the PC office as I signed up to work the PC booth at the West African Trade Show, being held in Lome this year. We (my friends Abby and Emily) stopped for egg sandwiches and café au lait’s (more like sweetened condensed milk with a dash of coffee) at a little café on the way. The PC transported us across town to the Fair which ended up looking like a State Fair with 4 or 5 big warehouses filled with various artisans and companies from all over West Africa. Yes it’s the show for ALL of West Africa, but NO it’s not air conditioned and thus we were soaked in sweat by 9 am. Myself, a few other PCV’s and a few PC staff sat at the booth, explaining PC and its mission mainly to the large groups of elementary and middle school aged kids who were there on field trips. These were all private school and wow are there a lot in Lome! PC also invited some of the artisans PCV’s work with to sell their products and luckily Aposto arrived mid-morning and took over entertaining and leading the PC information with the kids. I grabbed fufu from the Fair as we headed back to the office.

Being in Lome is stressful: you want to “relax” and enjoy your friends, the freedom and the food the city offers. At the same time, there are usually a lot of PCV’s in town and thus there is work and meetings and business to discuss and things to get done. Meanwhile, it’s hot, humid, sandy (all but a few roads in Lome are sand), and takes a while to walk/get a car to the various places. To add to that, I was hoping to see my family and Michael via Skype as the PC office is the only place in country with a strong enough Internet signal. I was able to knock some things off my PC to-do list and then my friend Lucian and I headed out for gelato. Hailing a taxi, negotiating the price, and working our way across town was worth it as I slowly indulged in some black cherry creamy goodness. We walked to the beach (only a few blocks away) and enjoyed our sweet treat, talking about how quickly 6 months has passed and Lucians return home as he was leaving the following day. (Side note: the beach is not a beautiful, well-manicured place. Outside of the crashing waves that I love, there is garbage and people using the beach as their bathroom. We found a clean spot to rest and enjoy the water. Egg rolls for dinner from the Vietnamese restaurant not far from our hotel and Tylenol PM to fall asleep in the heat.


More of the same Thursday and Friday. Worked the Trade Show both mornings, but Thursday afternoon after some impromptu meetings for projects, my friend Kate and I headed to the pool. What a difference a little peace, quiet and lap swimming does for the soul. The sun was setting as we walked out of the fancy hotel and I was so relaxed I could barely remember which way we were going! It was so nice. The evening got even better as Skype worked and I got to see my parents in our home for the first time in 6 months. They looked great and mom showed me all around the house with the Christmas decorations and the SNOW outside! I was so excited. More egg rolls for dinner, but sleep aids weren’t necessary after the pool workout!

Friday morning I got up early to Skype with Michael which was wonderful but made for a very long day! I napped that afternoon after enjoying my first cold cereal and milk in 6 months (bought it in a shop near the office) and because I was alone in the office was able to get Skype to work again and got to see my Grandma , talk with the kids at my mom’s school, kids from Pleasant View in Webster City and my sister. The kids asked great questions and seeing my sissy made me very happy. Can’t wait to see you all in the flesh in just a few weeks!

Saturday morning was early as we loaded up the Lome Limo and headed up country for long, bumpy ride. Coming home back to LT is always welcomed – to be comfortable and clean and in my own house- but I still struggle with a bit of sadness/loneliness after being around so many friends. Luckily the people were excited to see me, shouting hello and welcome when I made my way to the weekly market. And what a difference in temperature! Wow, about 200 miles up country to LT and the air is lighter and cooler and I’m not sweating! Amazing! While I did wake up to a hazy covered sky (the dust is thick), I’m thankful for the lack of humidity and being able to function comfortably and dry again!

Big week ahead with meetings for Camp Espoir beginning, organizing the MAC surveys, batiking some Christmas gifts with Aposto, leading some small nutrition lessons with my women’s groups and the usual English classes at the Middle School.

And I considered nursing school..

11/30/11
Have some water with your ants.
Everywhere you turn they are there.  An no I'm not just a bad housekeeper.  As we near dry season they are searching for water and they are pretty talented at finding it.  Leave a few drops in your pot from the morning's coffee- they will be there. You cant see them or where they're coming but they appear- EVERYWHERE. I've taped my any slight opening in my water filter, topped my pots with heavy rocks on top of the lids, I've sprayed lots of toxic chemicals (outside) but still nothing works.  Give them credit for their tenacity -but c'mon! Tonight they made into the pot of soup I made at lunch..and I'm too tired to  sift them out or make something else. They blend in nicely with the spices...gross, but I boiled it -and what's a little extra protein right?


I've had some pretty cool experiences this week and it's only Wednesday.  Monday and Tuesday morning I spent at the middle school which sits about a stones throw behind my house.  My French tutor, Mr. Sinya, teaches the equivalent of 7th and 8th grade English.  Each class has at least 100 students - the majority being boys as many girls have already dropped out or gotten pregnant.  I counted about 20 girls from each class. I was impressed with their comprehension and ability to read the text that they must photo copy from the teacher (of which most of them haven't).  Excited to have a native speaker, Sinya kind of let me take over the class as they stood and read the text while I corrected their pronunciation along the way.  Making a list of words they struggle with, we practiced saying them aloud before the period ended.  While I really enjoy teaching, it's exhausting keeping 100+  kids ranging from 12-18 years old quiet long enough for someone to read aloud.  When I realized the majority of the boys (who are also older) did not have the text and were the noisiest, I called on one and made him come to the front to read. The look on his face told me he might not be able to read and I had a moment of panic.  But, he could read just fine and it set an example to the rest of the class who behaved much better after that.  Seeing the girls become fewer and fewer as they got to the the higher class level, made me really want to connect and encourage them.  The only trouble is finding a time to meet/gather them.  School is already a stretch as girls are the ones who work around the house. If a girl is still in school by 7th or 8th grade it means her parents don't force her to stay home and work, the family has the money to send her, and she hasn't gotten pregnant.  Tough chicks.  I'm hoping for a way to reach them.


MAC (malaria/mosquito net survey) this week took me to a late morning meeting Monday where a Muslim woman Lorena introduced me to summon ten of her neighbors so we could complete the malaria/bed net check survey.  Her leadership and the way they listen to her is pretty incredible.  The women just came out of the woodwork.  None of them spoke French, so there I was surrounded by a dozen or so Muslim women- old and young, babies and wide-eyed, dirty, half naked little kids and the leader calling out questions in local language and then turning to me to translate into French. Pretty cool and another of those "Peace Corps" moments.


Tuesday afternoon's MAC activities led me to the other side of town to survey the Christians with a woman who is the president of her groupement and whom I met at church.  These woman leaders- who speak French- are essential to connecting with the rest of the people.  We walked to 19 different houses that afternoon; asking each home if they had mosquito nets and if they used them.  I saw some of the poorest homes (mud huts with thatched roofs) as we were literally out in the bush.  Houses and areas of town I never knew existed. What's more- as the daily break in the day was finishing, kids came out of the woodwork, dressed in their khaki uniforms, headed back to school.  Walking to and from twice a day, some of these kids probably cover several miles.  Most households we met with were headed by women or and older group of women.  Still amazes me how welcoming and friendly they are and open to my questioning.  Again, my guide translated the questions and I was surprised at how many homes had nets.  Surrounded by prairie grass (or something like it?) and 10 ft tall sorghum I smiled and reminded myself that -'oh ya, I'm in Africa!'


Wednesday afternoon is English club as there is no school in the afternoons (as many families need their kids to work in the fields).  Totally making up lesson plans on my own, today's activities included lots of directions (numbering off, forming teams) which these kids have never heard before --in French, let alone in English.  Sinya was there to help and I have to say it was pretty cool to watch them figure it out.  They are smart and creative, just need the chance to show it.  We reviewed 'if you're happy and you know it' and now they can sing it on their own.  Then we talked about animals and I had them pair up with one person writing the word and one drawing it. This alone took several minutes: 1. I used paper from last week-and they insisted that everyone find their paper they wrote on, 2.explaining that yes, I want you to draw the animal and 3. numbering off and finding their partners.  I just sat back, smiled and thought, 'they are going to get good at this by the end of the year!'  We formed teams and played a form of charades-- a new concept too.  They are quite competitive and while I'm not sure how much English was learned I was pleased to watch them laugh and smile and work as a team to guess the animal. A very rewarding afternoon indeed.


12/4/11
Thursday I headed to Sokode as I was out of vegetables and it was my first free day to get away.  The power has been out in LT (and throughout the country) for the past few days, but thankfully it was back in Sokode so I organized my malaria/mosquito net findings at the PCV workstation.


Friday I entered a whole new world.  Was biking from my house to the hospital for the weekly baby weighing when I came upon a mama I recognized with twins.  I left my bike at Aposto's (about halfway in between) and walked with her, taking one of the babies.  We got quite the looks on the road as I carried one in my arms and she had one on her back; the people thought it was so funny and joked that the little boy was mine.  Sadly, my arms ached when we arrived at the hospital; babies are heavier than you think! We arrived to a hallway filled with mamas and their babies.  For the first time, I had the courage to sit down next to one who was there because her 4-year-old son was refusing to eat. I asked the mama how many other kids she had (4 others) and if this one (her youngest) would be the last one. She responded, that it's up to her husband. I smile and insist that 5 is a lot and that she can decide too; it's your body right-- I say. She just smiles shyly.  When she meets with the nurse I insist that she and her family wash their hands with soap and water before they eat (the little boy most likely has a parasite from sticking his dirty hands in his mouth).


I spot a teacher from the middle school and discover his daughter was just born last night. When I go to see the mother and baby I recognize the girl who I know to be only 21 and hope and pray that she wasn't his student who has now dropped out. (Sadly, this is very common here; teachers sleeping with their female students).  I so badly want to be happy for her and them, the young mother seems happy, but part of me is so sad for the struggle that awaits them. Lea, the nurse practitioner (and the main one managing the circus) bounces to give a young boy a shot and I tag along holding down his legs as he squirms. Mama's and babies wait in the hall and Lea goes to pull the vaccination charts of the ones who have arrived today.  I've caught onto her system now after watching a few times and I insist that she go attend to the others who are ready and I will organize and search for the remaining files.  She looks at me with relief and runs off to continue the weighing.  Finally, I think, I'm able to be useful! When she returns we talk about how young the girls are who have given birth this week; 20, 21 I say? She looks at me and smiles and replies 'yes, but also as young as 12 and 13.' She asks if its like that where I'm from. I say not usually and she is surprised that I don't have any children. ' When,' she asks. Not until after I'm married and have a good job I respond.  She smiles and says, 'that's good, it's not like that here though.'  I tell her my mom taught me that a long time ago, to which she responds, 'she's smart.' Ah, the simple things you take for granted in America.


And then, as I'm already satisfied with how the morning is going, I step into the hall where the nurse is talking to the mothers about family planning (I'm praying it reached and sunk in with at least one of them), a very pregnant mama walks in who looks like she's about ready to pass out.... or give birth.  Lea rushes the woman into one of two exam rooms and gets on a table (laying on the cloth she brought herself).  Lea washes up and I help her get her apron and shoulder length gloves on. Holy cow, I say to myself, this is really happening.


Freaking out inside, I try to control my energy as I realize I'm about to witness my first birth.  I put gloves on (I don't know what to expect!) and try not to make too many faces of pain and discomfort as I watch the mama push while Lea tugs on the head.  Lea laughs as I gasp at the first sign of the head.  She shuffles between pushing on the mom's uterus and working the head out.  I stand there frozen in shock and awe. The baby girl comes out and the cord is around her neck. Lea moves quickly to put her on the mom's stomach and instructs me to  grab the one tray of utensils which holds three pairs of scissors.  She sucks the mucus out of her nose and mouth, clamps the cord and at last the little girl cries.  Lea smiles, places the baby in the same utensil tray (now empty), cover's her with a cloth and attends to the mother.  I'm still frozen but trying to shake it off and make sure the newborn doesn't slide off the table.  I break off a tiny bottle of something for Lea and she loads it into a syringe to give the mother.  As she finishes cleaning her up, I feel nauseous and run out of the room.  Nothing came of it, but I shake my head wondering how I ever even considered nursing school.  I hold the little girl who is now swaddled in more cloth that the mother brought and we walk mother (who is only 20 by the way) and baby (her second) across the hall to the room where patients rest.  I come out with the baby and the hallway erupts in applause. I hope they're not clapping for me; Lea deserves the praise. I sit down exhausted, Lea runs off to continue weighing and vaccinating. She looks at me and smiles, "this is how it is here," she says.


Still not feeling well Friday afternoon, I rested Saturday at home taking the day for myself reading and relaxing.  This morning I went to church and after being alone all day Saturday, I realized another reason why I love church so much as it's because I feel so loved and a part of their family.  The second candle of the Advent 'wreath' was lit and the priest asked us how we were preparing our hearts for Christmas.  That was the gist of what I caught (my French is coming along slooowly), but it was good as I've sort of forgotten it's the Christmas season.  Vanessa and  I were talking about how it's funny that it really doesn't feel like the holidays; no one's out buying gifts, the weather isn't changing (except the wonderful winds of Harmattan), life is going on as normal in our villages.  I've had very sweet packages filled with decorations for my home and my little tree is up; my friends and I will do our best to celebrate together in a few weeks.

Hello Harmattan!

Harmattan season is upon us --and I'm loving it! This is the few months when the strong desert winds from the north blow down and cool everything down. While everything is very dusty and people complain of sneezing attacks and very dry skin, I LOVE BEING COLD! Barely sweat on this morning's run and giggled with delight as I was FREEZING in the shower afterwards! Truly never thought I'd be cold here...or enjoy being cold so much!
Where did the last two weeks go? Time is really flying. And I can't believe it will be December tomorrow!
Two weeks ago (11/16)I went to the capital city of Lome for the annual artisan trade show, organized by fellow SED PCV's.  About 30 artisans from around the country , including my counterpart Aposto, came for the 4 day exposition where they were able to network with other artisans, showcase their products, (it was their first time to Lome for some of them), and were able to profit from the exposure.  A bunch of PCV's got a ride in a PC van Wednesday afternoon which made the 7 hour journey a bit more bareable. Because I was to present a topic on professional communication with the artisans Thursday morning, one of the event organizers arranged for some of us to stay with fellow American's who worked at the US Embassy. Thus, Wednesday night, I stayed in "America."

There are a few gated communities in Lome where the wealthy (ex-patriots, government and embassy workers) live.  We arrived late Wednesday night but when the taxi dropped us off and the security guard to our host's home greeted us, we knew we were in for a treat. Luckily our host was a former PCV who had also served in Africa, so he didn't mind and understood our 'ooh-ing and ahh-ing' over everything from the manicured lawn, marble and carpeted floors, American style furniture and of course the air conditioning and HOT running water. Wow. It was amazing. It was so clean and put together, I didn't realize I had forgotten just how great American homes feel.  We felt so dirty and awkward when he invited us to sit on the soft, beautiful furniture but we obliged and spent the next hour or so discussing PC, Togo and it's oddities, and how you come to appreciate life in the States so much more from this experience. One by one we excused ourselves to enjoy a hot shower in the western-style bathroom.  It was my first hot water shower since I left in June.  I stepped in and just stood there for a minute, trying to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to experience. This may seem silly to you, but after 6 months of cold bucket showers (and getting very excited when the random chance of running water was available) I really was dumbfounded. I squealed with delight and turned the nozzle to as hot as I could stand it.  What I think was even better was feeling REALLY clean afterwards; I didn't collect sand all over my feet walking back from the shower, and I didn't start sweating right away either.  I was so excited I called Michael but I didn't even have words to describe how amazing it had been.  We slept in soft, clean beds that night in a COLD air-conditioned room. Walking through the neighborhood the next morning on our way to the trade show, I sipped my freshly brewed Dunkin Donuts coffee (Lorena left me a to-go mug) and marveled at the yards and homes; it looked like a picture out of a magazine! Of course we were bummed we couldn't stay longer, another night --or forever :) - but so thankful for that tiny taste of home.
It's really hot in Lome. So hot and even more humid, that even the Togolese are dripping in sweat by 9am. And with most of the streets made of ankle deep sand, you just have to get used to feeling sweaty, dirty and gross all day. I helped Aposto set up his table and stand, beautifully displaying his handmade cloth, tshirts, bags and other things. I was so proud of him as his display was quite impressive and professional.  What's more, he is such an outgoing, friendly guy that all of the volunteers in town for the event and for the swearing-in of the new group of volunteers, know him and stopped by to say hi, order and buy things. By the end of the week he was known by all of the other artisans as he went around gathering and organizing everyone's contact information.  He was so proud to tell me that now he has friends all over Togo and has places to stay when he travels ( a big deal when the only road in the country is truly terrible and exhausting).
The days passed quickly; Vanessa and I presented our topic Thursday afternoon, we danced that night and had a great time at the swear-in party, I ventured across town to the Ghanian Embassy a few times for a Visa , helped Aposto sell at the show, surveyed clients for his business, and enjoyed time with my closest friends.  A couple of high points were visiting my friend Lucian's home in Agbodrafo which is about an hour east of Lome and right on the ocean, attempting to play soccer with PC staff at an event organized to celebrate volunteerism at the University of Lome, seeing Michael's face as we got to video Skype for the first time thanks to the PC office's wi-fi, and enjoying the rooftop pool (I splurged and treated myself) overlooking the ocean.
We tried not to spend too much money but when in Lome surrounded by food only found there (pizza and good wine, Vietnemese, Lebanese, etc) it's tough not to take advantage of the opportunity. Like my friend Connor said though, money literally disappears in Lome. We are used to spending 100-200 CFA (about 25 cents) on a meal in our villages and then to go and spend 4-5mille (about 8-10 dollars) on a pizza and glass of wine is troubling, but necessary I think. We had pizza one night and Vietnamese for a few meals -Aposto had his first egg roll last weekend and loved it!

Monday afternoon we took a taxi to the bus station which is an insane mess. Packed with people, old vans being loaded and piled high with goods and people. Even with having reserved tickets for this bus, we still had to wait over an hour to leave. Not only did the bus not have air conditioning like we had thought, but it only had small windows for ventilation and I just about lost it, I was so hot. We were destined to arrive into Sokode at midnight, but when we popped a tire about 45 minutes outside Lome I knew it was going to be a long night. Luckily there was a bar nearby.  Tuesday was a bit of a blur as you can imagine with only having a few hours of sleep after getting in at 1 that morning. I made it back to LT that night and collapsed.  Wednesday I collected data for the malaria campaign PC is working on at the hospital and clinic in LT and that afternoon I held my first English Club at the middle school.  I was very nervous that too many kids for me to handle would show up and it would be out of control, but it went surprisingly well.  About 35 kids came and we played a couple games, I taught them "If You're Happy And You Know It," we made the Club rules and I had them write down their names and what they would like to learn.
Thursday was Thanksgiving although it didn't really feel like it that morning as I surveyed my neighborhood with my host mom for the malaria campaign.  Headed 20 min south after lunch to join my friends and a bunch of PCV's who were gathering at a really nice hotel in Adjengre for Thanksgiving dinner. We all chipped in for a cook to make turkey (very expensive here) and mashed potatoes, and people signed up to bring stuffing, green bean casserole and pies.  We ate and ate and made ourselves miserable in good Thanksgiving fashion.  It was nice, but a bit sad for me after talking with my family back home. Like Vanessa put it: not the Thanksgiving that gives you the warm, fuzzy, family feelings you're used to getting at the holidays.
Vanessa and Lydia came back and spent the day in LT with me Friday and we made Aposto and Nima mac 'n' cheese for dinner with the Velveeta my grandma had sent.  They shared the giant papya from one of their trees and it was another tasty, satisfying meal! Before she left Saturday morning, Vanessa and I decorated the little foam Christmas tree for my living room (thank you Kelli Carlberg!).
This week I've got to write up a curriculum for the women's groups and the English club, finish up the information and data collection for the malaria survey, and evaluate the results of the trade show with Aposto.  He was invited to go to Benin (Country to the east of Togo) with PC staff to showcase and sell his batiked PC items and I will head back to Lome to represent and promote PC at the West African trade show.  Two weeks back in LT then it will be Christmas! Wow time flys..


Things about my life now that you may not know:
-I wear a dress everyday. I strongly prefer the light, loose, flowing material that they use here for outfits here; the less clothing touching my skin the better in the heat.
-I don't have a sink so I wash my hands and brush my teeth everyday like one would when they are camping.
-I sleep when the roosters and pintards (guinea fowl?) sleep. Some of the noisiest and most annoying creatures I know are a part of my host families animals. They squawk literally all day long; I can now tell what time it is in the morning just by the roosters-- I guess this means they're doing a good job! Even with earplugs, there is no sleeping past 6am at my house. Everyone shuts up when night falls at 6 so I've been going to bed between 730-8.
-I try to get one vegetable and fruit a day. For those of you who knew me well in the States, you would know this is a big deal as I used to eat at least 5 fruits/vegetables throughout the day. These are just so scarce here.  I buy as much as I can carry when I go to Sokode each week (carrots, beets, cabbage, avocados) and I stretch it to make it last as long as possible. I buy oranges, bananas, onions, and tomatoes in LT.  Apples are a treat as you can only find them further south and are even expensive there.
-I am an ant killer. They are everywhere, especially around water and this includes my water filter. No insect bothers me more- I think because there is never just one.
-I pull my own water from the family well. I use a chamber pot at night so I don't have to venture out to my latrine when I have to go to the bathroom. Yes, I feel like I'm living in the 1800s some days.
-I live by ziplock bags (ants) and my headlamp (electricity is rarely strong enough to power my the one light in my living room).
-I constantly look for shade and get very excited when there is a breeze.

On the move: Week of November 7th in review:

Wow last week was a busy week! I'm afraid that my slow mornings with my book and coffee may nearing their end. While this is good as it means I've found work to do, I am going to miss that leisure time in the morning. 

So even after Tabaski was 'officially' over (last Sunday the 6th) the rice and spaghetti encored as my mom continued to bring me plates and plates for each meal. Never been so sick of rice in my life.  I even began packing it in tupper wares and carrying it around with me for snacks.  Nima, Aposto's girlfried even joked and asked how my rice was in our morning greeting (the morning salutations usually included asking how your's house, patience, kids, health, etc. are in local language). I love Nima and Aposto because they make a bit of a joke about this with me each morning so I was impressed when she slipped rice in there!

Let's see, opening my planner (yes, to those of you who heard I hadn't been using one - it's back and stuffed as ever :)  I spent Monday finishing a 6 page catalogue for Aposto's batik business.  I was proud of this as it was no easy task using his archaic computer in his very hot gallery.  I've been working on it for a few days, taking lots of deep breaths as the computer continued to freeze every so often and sweat rolled down my sides.  He was very impressed and happy with it and thus I felt accomplished and useful!

Tuesday brought on a different feeling.  I decided to take the day off from working out as I had been going pretty hard for 7 days and while I wanted to bike that morning, I could tell my legs weren't recovered and I knew I needed to rest.  This did not set me up for a good day as I felt sluggish and out of it.  Being here for as long as I have, you begin to get used to the poverty all around you; you don't notice the shacks or the filthy-half-naked children. It all just becomes natural- I remember Lorena reacting to my reactions when I first arrived and was still a little in awe/baffled by all of it.  She would shrug her shoulders and say 'ya, that's what they do.' I can feel myself becoming that way.  However, Tuesday when I was biking home from Aposto's my 'natural lenses' were stripped off and I had this overwhelming feeling at seeing again all of the issues, problems, areas of improvement all around me.  Lately I've been passionate about hand washing so I had a crazy idea that I should visit all 7,000 people of LT in my 2 years teaching them how and the importance of this simple but vital concept. Ya, not overwhelming at all.  Then, stopping to visit my co-worker there were some kids eating rice with this big glob of orangish mush. Oh! I thought to myself- could it be sweet potatoes? No no, my co-worker said, that's the grease from the cow fat left over from Tabaski.  Ugh. So I must spread the nutrition word; I must teach the importance of a balanced diet!  Walking a little further, I passed the Moringa trees (miracle trees- google it) and got up the guts to ask the mama if she actually uses the tree, if it's just for her, etc.  Of course she doesn't speak French- and neither do I for that matter- but luckily a middle school aged boy was around and he assisted as much as he could.  I walked off feeling more confused and adding pressure to myself of spreading the Moringa message.  

Arriving home, my host brothers are doing their homework while my host sister is working (carrying water, cleaning, preparing dinner, etc.).  This is a very common thing here -something I've watched over and over but at that point I thought to myself- Oh! I must educate them on the importance of girls going to school, sharing chores so she has an equal chance.  Maybe I should help her with her homework each night. And then I just cracked.  I got up one step of my porch and just started sobbing.  I can't do all of this. I can't make sure this entire town washes their hands before they eat, prepare more nutritious meals and treat girls equal to boys (just to mention a few). There is no way; there are too many issues and not enough of me or time. I'm not going to save these people and I'm not going to save LT.  Yes, we tell ourselves this all the time, but it really hit me that night.  As I was talking and crying to Michael later, he made a very good point.  I was crying, for the first time, because I was overwhelmed with the work and the need here. Whereas before when I would get upset in the first three months is was because I didn't know what to do, how to start, if I was even needed here. Huh-- what a change. I took a deep breath and realized that I've made it though one mindset change, I'll surely survive another as I continue to figure this whole adventure out.  To add to all of that, my water filter fell off the ledge on my porch and one of the purifying candles inside broke rendering my filter useless.  While boiling water and thinking far enough ahead so its cooled off by the time you want to drink it is not fun, I have been enjoying buying COLD Pure Waters (the purified water sachets you can buy everywhere) from the two stores with refrigerators here in LT. 

Wednesday was interesting.  I had a sunrise run as Aposto wanted to hit the road early.  We spent the morning delivering notebooks and school supplies to tiny schools and villages on a dirt road going east of of LT.  As we bumped along on the motorcycle, passing people walking into bush (I'm sure to their homes, but it was so desolate it was hard to tell) and I thought to myself, 'wow, it doesn't get much more Africa than this.'  Our first stop was at these two lean-to type shacks made of dried palm other tree leaves where two teachers (volunteers) were leading two classes of about 15 students each.  We gave each teacher a notebook and they were so grateful you'd have thought we were passing out salaries.  Eye-opening moment.  We continued in this fashion, going deeper into the bush, passing out notebooks for each of the teachers at each stop.  After about 5 stops like this we finally arrived at the school where we had supplies for kids who had lost a parent.   I was happy the NGO was able to provide a bit for these kids (about 20), but it just killed me to watch as the rest of the kids watched with big eyes.  These were definitely some of the poorest people I've seen so far. Kids in rags, some with half a tattered khaki uniform on, sandals with more bare feet on the bottom than material. Sadly, I was ready to get out of there. If the thought of those kids having to walk that far or find a ride to continue on to middle school wasn't disturbing enough, seeing them in their reality killed me.

Thursday I ventured off to Sokode as I has to pick up the dress I was having made for my co-workers wedding on Friday.  I ran all my errands via my bike: bank, post office, market for vegetables and bread and fetching my dress. It all went so smoothly and according to plan that I was wondering what was about to go wrong.  I met Rebekah for a late breakfast at a restaurant that serves yogurt. Had about 2 hours at the new PC workstation, hoping to get some things updated on Aposto's blog.  After it took over an hour to load 5 pictures, I had to go and left without one thing accomplished. Ahh.. yes, I'm in Africa.

Thursday afternoon and evening made up for it as my host mom summoned me over as she was dying her feet with a local plant she had added water to to create a paste.  Muslim women dye the outer edge of their feet orange and then black to symbolize a holiday or celebration.  I described it to Michael that it's sort of like when people wear Christmas looking things in December...sort of.  As I sat there and she patted the paste on I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and enjoyed the warm breeze.  It was so peaceful.  And the closest thing I've had to a pedicure or a massage in a long time! It also forced me to stay put and rest on my porch while it dried, which as much as I enjoy this is sometimes still difficult when I know I've got other things to do.  It had dried enough by 5 so that I could go over to my French tutor's house as his kids had insisted on me coming over so we could make dinner together.  This family runs like a well oiled machine.  Three girls and three boys and everyone has a job.  The best part is they all know their job and they do it without talking much and definitely without complaining (not how I remember Maddie and I's chore routine going growing up).  I just sat there (tried to help a little- they let me slice the tops off of tomatoes) and took it all in. Reminded me of a team of ants: quiet, determined and hard-working.  From peeling, slicing and boiling a giant yam they had grown in their field, mashing the ingredients for the sauce into a paste (tomatoes, peanuts, onions, peppers) using one flat stone and one round (I told them we have machines for that too), and then mashing the yams to create fufu, we finally ate 3 hours later. 

I had two requirements for the meal. First, everyone must wash their hands with soap before we ate. Two, everyone will eat together - as a family.  Usually the man is served first and eats by himself or with older boys, and the kids just sprawl wherever- door frames, on a random stool-wherever they can find a seat. I insisted that we would eat as a family and while they looked at me funny and rolled their eyes, they managed to put two small tables together and crowd around. I was so proud and they just laughed.  Then I shared my Grandma's oatmeal raisin cookies with them which were a hit and I think may have made up for the regulations I made them follow at dinner.

Friday morning my friend Hortance had become pretty sick and I spotted her on the road headed to the private clinic to begin treatment for malaria.  My first time witnessing the IV process here.  Not too bad.  Hortance needed to eat first so we went to fetch some pate- the local cuisine made of crushed corn- around the corner. I was disappointed that even at a clinic the food (I'll never complain about hospital food ever again!) wasn't more nutritious that what everyone eats.  Same empty pate and fish sauce.  UGH. I suggested they could use enriched cornmeal (add crushed peanuts of Morenga powder) and they smiled politely.  Hortance got hooked up and I proceed onto the hospital for the weekly baby weighing.

I had tried to mentally prepare more for the malnourished and overwhelming amount of babies and time the process takes.  Of course when I get there only about a third of the women from last week had showed up.  I learned that it was because a lot of the moms only come once a month and/or when their baby is up for a vaccine. Of course the tiny ones I had my eye out for were not there. I did however encounter my first pregnant mom (only 23) who was HIV positive.  I sat in awe as the nurse pleaded with her to take the medicine she was giving her so that it wouldn't be passed on to the baby.  I even stayed in the room to hold her wailing toddler while the nurse examined her. Wow- only in Africa. The nurse asked if I had anything to tell her and I just tried to reemphasize what she had said: take the meds, get your other child tested, and make sure you sleep under your mosquito net.

That afternoon was the wedding I'd been anticipating.  On my way home there must have been 5 people stop to ask me if I was going (they LOVE my dyed feet) and to make sure I wear my 'costume'- the dress in the matching fabric with everyone else.  This was funny to me-- they had to be sure I was dressed appropriately!  I waited for my mom and we didn't leave to walk down the path to the wedding at the woman's home until an hour after it was suppose to start. Already confused, but I went with it.  The women (probably close to 75) went nuts seeing me dressed up with a traditional African style hat tied on my head, a veil my mom had given me to over  that, and the black eyebrows she had painted on. I was quite a site. Everyone sat on mats on the ground in a semi-circle, the women of course separated from the men.  Three guys banged drums and everyone threw candy at them. The Gado, my co-worker came out with her female family crowded around her and we threw even more candy. Then we gave candy to her mom and more loud dancing, singing and things I'm sure I didn't catch continued on. Then it was time to move and everyone headed to her new husbands house down the road. It was literally like a wedding parade.  Easily 150 people, the moto drivers of LT directed what little traffic that could fit past us.  They presented Gado to her husband and some important looking men, took her suitcase in her house and that was pretty much it. The majority of the people left but a few mamas held onto me and drug me behind the house where there was a small dance party. I did my best to dance with the drums and then people threw candy at me!  Luckily it ended quickly but everywhere I go now people talk about me dancing. Word travels fast-even in little villages in Africa.  All that hype and anticipation for about an hour of activity. Well, I guess that's kind of what it's like in the States? I asked Aposto and the non-Muslims would have the same ceremony but also a party afterwards.

Saturday morning, a PCVL visited to spend the day in LT and observe my life here.  Ben, is a health volunteer and also the national organizer for the summer camp for kids affected by HIV/AIDS (Camp Espoir).  His French is awesome and so as I showed him around he could talk to people and explain more about why I'm here and the work I hope to do. This was especially helpful at the clinic and hospital where I had had struggles with the director.  So thankful for Ben's time here. Helping me establish more credibility and understanding.  We visited Aposto and the market for some traditional Saturday afternoon tchouk.

Sunday I headed south to Sotoboua (about 45 min) to help with the monthly Club Espoir- a continuation of the summer camp.  Twenty eager kids- all very familiar with PCV's, camp songs and games- spent the morning singing and dancing.  I watched as the three Togolese adult leaders explained the days lesson of HIV/AIDS to the group of 10-17 year olds.  
Gave me ideas for working with kids and groups and good ways to present material.  After a hot and detour filled car ride back where I got to show off a bit of my local language, I made it back to LT and got organized for another busy week!