Red Sky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Saturday - April 21, 2012

Saturday- April 21

Sitting in the dark of my house. Just returned from the market where I ate bean cakes, made an impulse buy of cloth that was purple and yellow (GO PANTHERS!).. and endured the ‘white person’ chant by each and every child I passed. and now I sit with sweat running off my face, the fan cutting in and out, but the internet connection is good so other discomforts are disregarded.  I prolonged getting up this morning to go to lead yoga for a friend and her kids.. she called me ten minutes before my alarm “We’re waiting for you.” Yes I thought- I will be there at the time we decided- 6- not 530..ugh. I tried to surpress the negative thoughts and have a decent session with her and the 5 middle school aged kids, once I got them calmed down enough to take my breathing commands seriously. I took a light ride on a back road for my morning workout; my legs were sore from yesterdays long run. 

Spent the morning sweating incessantly even after a very cold buck shower as it was hot by 7, without a cloud in the sky.  Stopped in at a local health agent training (after 20 minutes of trying to find the group at three different locations- disorder at its finest) and fought the urge of irritation; why do we speak to these grown adults like they are children? Because that’s how they’ve been trained, I realize.  The system, from the time they're little, beats into their head perfection; if you don’t answer 100% correctly, you’re wrong and may be shamed for it. Thus, in my opinion, it diminishes self confidence, creativity, and the nerve it takes to answer a question with self-assurance.  Frustration at its finest for me; not to mention the beads of sweat soaking my dress.  I looked through my planner and tried not to be annoyed as a simple exercise of how to use a thermometer (these are not NEW health agents!) takes over an hour.  Finally, a break and I bike 20 min home in the noon sun. Rinsing off with a few scoops of water, but the relief from the heat only lasts momentarily. I put on a light dress and enjoy a cold water I bought from the 2 stores in town that have refrigerators.  I read for a bit then laid down inside where it's cooler, wrapped in a wet cloth, closing my eyes, hoping for a breeze or for the power to return and my fan’s comfort.  Tried not to count the minutes until 4, when the daily heat torture subsides. Finally, rouse myself enough to prepare something for lunch; cucumbers, eggs, and some tasty pesto some thoughtful someone sent me.

Then it was off to the market; it’s Saturday and the day people wait for all week- when there’s actually something going on.  Some excitement to be a part of.  Nima (Aposto’s wife) helped me buy a basin for my new table I had made with a big hole in it to replicate a ‘sink’- sick of doing the dishes on the ground. We wind our way through the market; the sun is finally behind a cloud.  Nima buys things to make the sauce (broiled fish, sardines, tomato paste)- the item in the Togolese meals- it’s all about the sauce.  I don’t buy any of it because I don’t make sauce.  Instead I head to the stand where a girl sells delicious sweet, fried bread. It’s my treat to myself each Saturday afternoon.  We sit and drink tchouck- local fermented millet beer- at one of the stands that makes up the border of the market.  A woman passes by with cloth (pagna) one uses to make outfits here. I think of how I was no good at envisioning if a dress/shirt would look good on in the States. This is an even larger challenge. You have to be able to look at a piece of fabric and decide if it would make a pretty skirt or dress.  I’ve learned bright colors are great on dark skin; dark colors better on lighter skin. I’ve had my fair share of failed attempts.  But the excitement of the market has gotten to my logic a bit and I stop the woman, attracted by a blue and black style.  “It’s nylon,” she tells me. “Is that good?” I ask Nima, clueless. No, not like the cotton I’m wearing.  She returns with a cotton variety.  That’s how shopping works here. You sit and send small children after something you want (more bean cakes), or the people will bring things to you; everyone needs to make a few cents.  Her second selection doesn’t impress me but her attempt does and soon Nima and I are off to see her stand. Sure enough, the yellow and purple fabric catches my eye. So much for this week’s budget.

And now here I sit, waiting until the last possible moment to take a shower and cool off; in the attempt to not sweat when I get into bed. Alas, I need to cover up soon –this dress won’t cut it with the infringing mosquitoes (big, cool rainstorm Monday night- brought much relief and joy..and many biting annoyances). The mice are scrounging around above me; at least they’re not in my house—or at least that’s what I think.  And the ants.  We’ve come to learn to live with each other. Or more, I’ve given in to their tenacity.  We will live in harmony as I’m not willing to throw out MnM’s because they’ve conquered another ziplock bag.  So I’ll either eat them or smush them one at a time as they crawl over me at my desk and couch. Oh and the basin I bought at market; the one I’ve been waiting weeks to buy, it’s too small for the hole the carpenter made.  My fault, not his but cringing at the thought of the non existent ‘return policy’ here… will have to hope the market mama who sold it to me will remember my face (think I’ve got that one covered) and be kind enough to allow me to exchange for a bigger size. Oh this life. Is it too early to go to bed and start all over again tomorrow?

Discoveries

I just got home from Church.  I tried really hard to listen and understand the message in French this morning; it was about doubting Thomas and his need to see the wounds on Jesus’ body to believe that it was really him who had risen from the dead.  I’m thankful that what little biblical knowledge I have helped me put together the message; we, as believers we must live like we believe.  Others should know we are Christians by our love, our actions.  I prayed God would help me focus on the time with Him and not let my brain wander about the to-do lists in my planner or potential work ideas that are constantly bouncing around. 

On my walk home I made a discovery of a giant avocado tree.  This tree I’ve passed so many times is full of nearly ripe avocados.  Ironically, yesterday when I was in Sokode, I splurged and bought three avocados along with my other weekly vegetable supply.  With spring in my step at this newfound knowledge, I picked some Moringa grains from a neighbor’s tree as I’m going to plant them with the woman I took to the Women’s Conference, Catherine, tomorrow.  As I walked into my compound, I asked the kids if they knew what I was holding. They knew all about Moringa and its nutritional value- packed with vitamins and protein.  And they knew what to do with it; how to eat by putting it in sauce. And they had planted one of their own; the oldest boy pointed to the circular enclosure of bricks near my latrine. And sure enough there is a tiny sapling sprouting its first leaves. WOW. How had I missed that? I thought they had no idea. Guess I can check that of the list! Funny how I’m still discovering things about this place, just when I think I’ve began to have it all figured out.

This week was really good.  Monday and Tuesday were busy preparing for the NGO conference with Aposto.  Wednesday I held my girls club and about thirty 12-17 year-olds showed up and we had a good lesson about decision making.  These meetings are usually quite frustrating for me as the girls struggle to understand my broken French but with help from Mr. Sinya and my SED Director, Alex, who happened to be visiting, I watched as the girls slowly started to understand the message.  We broke into groups and each was given a situation and had to decide what they would do and how they came to that decision.  For example: You’re the oldest in your family, you’ve lost your parents and have to care for your three younger siblings.  You struggle to have enough money to eat and recently there is a man who lives near the market who is offering to buy you food if you come with him to a hotel.  Or, you’re in the second to the last year of high school and your uncle who you live with and who pays for your school fee is going to die.  You are considering dropping out of school and working for a few years in order to save enough money to return to school. 

These are very real examples for the girls and I was so thankful that they understood to stay the heck away from that hotel with the man from the market and to find ways to earn money while staying in school in the second situation.  They’re witty too; coming up with ways to outsmart the man from the market by taking his money and then bringing their siblings along with them to the hotel.  Ha. This week I’m preparing for a session on puberty and girls’ bodies.  There is little to no education about this and I’m excited to take what I observed at the Women’s Conference sessions to these girls to explain how it all works.

Thursday, Aposto and I headed to Sokode for the non-governmental organization (NGO) conference held by PCV’s.  The 2 ½ day conference was packed with sessions on governance, human resources, accounting, strategic planning, project planning, finance planning and computer skills.  I helped my friend Ryan with the computer sessions Friday and Saturday morning and it was quite eye-opening. We took half of the group – the half that has never touched a computer- to a computer lab in Sokode and explained the various parts of the lab, the machines and what they do, and the different parts of the computer.  As we turned them loose to practice using the mouse and keyboard, they stopped us and asked how to turn the computers on.  Oh.  So easily we forget the knowledge we take for granted!  It was quite amusing to watch grown adults fumbling with the mouse and hunting and pecking, timidly pressing keys.  I wondered if this is what it was like for our computer teachers in elementary school.

Saturday morning’s session we returned with the same group and gave them an example letter to copy and practice their skills in word.  I pulled up a chair next to a woman who was clueless.  I forget sometimes that when we pray for things, God doesn’t deliver them on a platter, but gives us opportunities to practice and let those skills grow. Unfortunately, patience is something I’m still working on, and as she hesitated to use try clicking on anything I had to repeatedly remind myself that I was working with the equivalent of a three year old in regards to her computer skills.  Slowly, together, we practiced clicking on things with the mouse and learning the difference between the enter, shift, and arrow keys.  She would start to press something, then look at me with uncertainty and I would breath deep and say, just try it.  It reminded me of growing up when I would ask for an answer from my mom and she would tell me to figure it out for myself.  I could feel her ‘tough-love’ teaching style coming out of me as the woman shyly used the backspace key when she made a mistake.  An hour later, the woman typed her first letter including bold, underlined, and italicized font.  She was pretty proud and I was exhausted! It was an indeed a growing experience.

 Aposto and I presented a session on Friday afternoon on budgeting and financial planning.  More and more I’m realizing how amazing this Togolese man is. He respects me and knows I have knowledge about these subjects and how they pertain to NGO’s but he also knows I struggle with French.  As I led different parts of the presentation, he would encourage me to speak and then helped fill in the gaps and helped translate my French into what the audience could understand.  In other words, he helps me look good.  Additionally, we literally looked good as we sported our matching pagna outfits that we had made for his wedding ceremony.  This is a rare relationship from what I’ve heard and observed between PCV’s and their counterparts.  So many people struggle to ‘get’ concepts and then to actually adopt them.  Aposto ‘gets’ it and he applies it and then encourages others to do the same.  He was truly a leader during the conference and I was so proud to be associated with him.  I am so blessed to have such a smart leader and friend as my counterpart here in Lama-Tessi.

It’s mid-April and that means hot season is in full swing but thankfully it hasn’t been too bad and we’ve had some cooler days with rain.  Looking forward to spending the next two weeks here in village before May gets busy with meetings for future projects.  Additionally, I’ve mapped out my next 15 months, yes the amount of time that is left in my service here in Togo.  Crazy. Thankful that time has passed and for the ideas and work that have come to hopefully make the second half of my time here meaningful and impactful. 

Couple shout-outs: one to Linda White and her pre-K class at Stratford School for the sweet package and pictures that adorn my walls.  One to my grandma Pat who sent a giant box with the most special treasure of all; oatmeal raison cookies. One to Jenny Maharry and the won-der-ful coffee she vacuum sealed and sent with my mom who sent a French press.  The biggest shout out to my mama. Thank you for taking such good care of me; for helping me with Aposto’s batik sales, for always thinking of the things I need and for sending them, for doing things I can’t with my shaky internet connection, for never being short on tough-love, always believing in me and reminding me of why I’m here. I love you mama.

Finally, I’d ask you to please check out the Camp Espoir blog.  Camp Espoir is a MAJOR project I am a part of as we will hold four weeks of camp this summer for Togolese children impacted by HIV/AIDS.  I currently have a funding proposal online through the national Peace Corps program in order to make camp possible. All fees will be covered for the nearly 200 children from all over Togo who will come to the camp this summer, learn how to live with their illness, improve their lives and have some fun. We have nearly reached our goal.  You can make a secure and tax deductible through this link and help us bring 'espoir' – HOPE  to these kiddos. 

A week to remember!

Wow was last week great.  Sunday morning I headed to Kara to enjoy a few days of good food, air conditioning and the pool.  The 2 hour trip went relatively smooth and it was blistering hot by the time arrived at the pool a few blocks from where we were staying.  The pool was packed- mainly with students from the university there in Kara.  I’ve been to Kara three times now, and in keeping with the tradition the sky grew overcast and it rained for the last few hours of the afternoon and into the night.  I had been waiting in LT, sweating my you-know-what-off for the rain to fall and cool things down. And now, here I sat at the pool, ready to swim some major laps (impatiently waited for the locals who don’t understand the concept of lap swimming to clear out) and what does it do- rain! Ah, Togo.  So I swam laps in the rain as the sun was setting! And afterwards I enjoyed a fresh salad and big pizza back at the Hotel some PCV’s and I were staying at.  We splurged and went for the air conditioned room… did I mention it rained and was now chilly out? So much so that I wrapped a dress around my shoulders at dinner to keep warm. 

Monday was literally a perfect day here.  Slept in, enjoyed waking up cold. Savored coffee with real milk at the hotel then walked to the pool where I swam uninterrupted for an hour.  There were a couple men from China there (the Chinese do lots of business in Togo) observing my laps.  I struggle on a daily basis to get my thoughts across in French, but usually natives can get the gist and help me fill in the blanks.  Not the case with non-native speaking Chinese men. Alas, my demonstration and hand gestures on breathing techniques had to do as the broken French between the three of us was not working.  I enjoyed my left over pizza for lunch by the pool and proceeded to nap and read for the rest of the afternoon. So peaceful.  There is a missionary family from Indiana who has lived in Kara for 7 years.  They were at the pool too and introduced themselves right away.  They have two young girls and were very friendly.  In the middle of a lap, I remembered my lack of Christian music and I abruptly stopped and asked if they had any I could take.  So, that evening I went to their house not far from our hotel and they let me get my fill.  Not only that but they have a BEAUTIFUL home.  Very open, spacious and decorated with colors and furniture I can relate to. I was like stepping into America and the couple was so generous offering me to stay with them for dinner and a movie.  I politely declined but they insisted I come back and stay some weekend and use their guest room, internet, trampoline…. Wow what a blessing!

Yes, I declined a free (and no doubt delicious) meal as I was meeting up with my friend Melissa at our hotel for a dinner I’d been looking forward to—fries with cheese sauce.  Yes, it is me Taylor talking. It was a gravy like sauce with sharp white cheese mixed in. And real fries. Yes, I ate the entire thing. Yes, it was awesome.  Yes, I delighted in the AC that night with a full belly!

Tuesday started off the same but this time I was the lone person at the hotel.  I’ve decided I’ve got to live by the water some day; it makes me so very happy.  After I swam some laps I just sat there listening to the water lap on the sides of the pool and appreciating the peace.  I even gave up continuing with a workout to enjoy simply floating and taking it all in, savoring every moment. I enjoyed a burger for lunch with some friends passing through and then had time to kill and headed back to the pool.  There were some people there from the States visiting their friend who works at the Embassy in Lome.  They were asking me all sorts of questions about my life here in Togo and I realized I know my stuff!  One asked why I decided to do the PC. My response was delayed a bit as I realized that while some of my reasons have changed (career wise)  more than anything I came for the adventure.  It was a well timed question and I really appreciate him asking and giving me the chance to really reflect on what’s important to me in this effort. This peace and calm helped carry me through the rest of the afternoon and evening as I proceeded to wait an hour for a car to leave Kara and head west toward my friend and fellow PCV, Abby’s house. 

This trip was in itself a snapshot of the PC adventure. As we literally drove off into the sunset I was just beginning to be impressed with the paved and well maintained road, when we veered off and hit the dirt.  Wedged in the front with 3 other people, I had a guy’s armpit on my shoulder and the driver continually ramming the shifter into my hip as we wound our way into the very barren land of West Kara.  After a bit, a few shacks and huts appeared and we let a guy out and I was able to breathe a bit better as armpit guy moved to the back.  Smiled and the adventure line ran in my head as I watched a man wearing a “Don’t mess with the Zohan” shirt holding a baby as we continued on.  Africa.  Enjoying the sunset as we continued on and then I realized the driver only had one good eye and he kept looking off to the side to see in front of him.  An adventure, I say to myself.  Later, as we swerve to miss a flock of guinea fowl I see he also had no front teeth! Finally we come upon a school, more market shacks and lots of mud huts with straw roofs.  We had reached the village where I would get out and now take a motorcycle taxi the rest of the way to Abby’s.  No longer could I distinguish between my new tan from the pool and the red dirt from the road that had caked itself on every visible surface.

Abby’s friend arrived on his moto and we headed down another barren dirt road. It was starting to get dark and I head something click with his moto.  There I was standing in the middle of this road at dusk with my two bags and helmet still on as I watch him mess with the clutch… adventure!  He soon wiggled it free and we were off. I didn’t panic or even worry –was still smiling until it happened again but this time I could see Abby’s village and as we pulled it at dark she was there to greet me with a pot of lentils. 

I slept outside on Abby’s porch Tuesday night as her small house had heated like a furnace all day and it was too unbearable for me.  Abby has the true village life. Her house is small and cozy with straw mats insulating the tin ceiling and door frames just tall enough for us to pass through.  Her village is small and I couldn’t get over how flat and barren it was compared to LT.  The farmer’s burn their fields and most of the trees have been chopped for fire wood. The majority of the village is made of sporadic mud huts with straw roofs; you can see for ever and ever.

Wednesday morning we had leftover lentils for breakfast and heated water for coffee on Abby’s charcoal stove. Man does that make me appreciate gas stoves.  Pretty sure I would go hungry if I had only charcoal… so much work to start a fire! We toured her village of Namon, walking through her small market and visiting her clinic where she does the majority of her work.  I was surprised to see so many water pumps throughout the village and luckily I got my hand in the pumping later that evening when our water supply was running low- a great workout! We hung out under Abby’s shaded area in her fenced in backyard (invisible to lots of screaming kids and random people coming to say hello).  It was really nice.  We caught up on our projects and what we’re thinking for the future. I told her about my host mom and how she’s about ready to pop with a new baby.  I mentioned that she doesn’t sleep under a mosquito net and I haven’t said anything; trying not to be an annoying American, harping on them on what they need to do/change.  However, I’ve decided when the baby comes I’m not going to be so passive. After losing Adenan for no explainable reason last fall, I will be making sure this new little one sleeps safely at night, especially with the upcoming rainy season and the hoards of mosquitoes it brings.  This also sparked an idea in me; my host family is a snapshot of the Togolese lifestyle and I could make a list of the things I could teach them or show them to improve their lives, so that’s what I did.  I listed out the relevant things to my family from each sector of PC here in Togo- all the knowledge I have here and I made a goal to talk with my mom/host family once a month in my last year here.  This sounds simple; but it’s quite intimidating and I’ve been reluctant up until this point. Now though, I’ve think I’ve built a level of trust and confidence with them, that and my French has developed a bit more.  I’m excited for this challenge I’ve made for myself. 

God deserves the credit for this motivation and idea.  Since I came back to Togo in January, I’ve struggled to know my purpose here and I asked God each morning when I was feeling doubtful to please show me what I’m supposed to do here; if I’m meant to be here. And He’s done just that.  It didn’t come on a big billboard like I had hoped, but it came little by little.  The success of the Women’s Conference that I took part in in March was the turning point in boosting my confidence as a volunteer and from there I’ve had ideas of things I want to do in LT for next year and now this idea with my host family.  God’s moving in me and I’m so thankful.

Abby and I finished off the very hot afternoon with icy cold Cokes at one of two bars in Namon and then we slept early in preparation for the next day’s travel.  And boy was it a day.  We could only find one taxi moto to take us to Kara.  So at 5:30 am we bounced along for two hours with our big bobble helmet heads knocking against each other as we were squeezed with our bags and our driver.  After a flat tire about halfway to Kara, we finally made it and found a bush taxi leaving for Atakpame.  We found egg sandwiches and coffee for breakfast and all seemed right with the world as we waited for the car to leave. Three hours later we were off and Cameron, a fellow PCV had helped me score a front seat (less cramped) and I was ready for the 5+ hour trip.  The bush taxi got a flat tire only an hour into the trip.  After three hours of trying to patient and hopeful we finally flagged down another car to take us a little bit further but not all the way; I felt like the mom on Home Alone when she’s trying to get home to Kevin for Christmas.  Long story short, 6 moto/car changes and 15 hours later we arrived in Atakpame well after dark.  I had the adventure attitude up until the last few hours when I couldn’t stand being so cramped, hot, sweaty and disgustingly covered in dirt and grime from the road.  Thankfully, we found a hotel in Atakpame run by very sweet nuns and we scrubbed it all off and met up with our friends who had already arrived.

Togo may have won Thursday but Friday was definitely a plus in my book.  Veronica (my talented and very sweet running friend) was in town so we were up early and enjoyed an awesome, authentic African run through the hills and valleys of Atakpame.  It was breathtaking and so nice to catch up with her.  I helped prepare for the Passover meal that PCV’s were organizing for that evening the rest of the day and very much enjoyed the celebration and learning all about a Jewish Passover that night with about 30 other PCV’s.  The dinner was plentiful and delicious and the wine was flowing (part of the ceremony!) and so we made our way to a ‘club’ and danced it all off, just us Americans and our American music. It was pretty great.

Saturday I took the PC Limo (a PC car that goes up and down country twice a month) back north to LT.  Celebrating Easter yesterday here in village was quiet and simple and it sort of had to be with the insane sweltering heat.  Just napping under Aposto’s piotte after a yummy lunch of fufu I awoke drenched in sweat. Not even a breeze to help a sister out; hot season is here.  Thankfully, and as I sort of suspected it would, the sky grew dark last night and lots of cool wind blew in a nice thunder and rain storm and I awoke this morning feeling much better!

Ps- while I still hear the mice scurrying about above me, I did catch one using a trap from Aposto last Saturday before I left for Kara.

Tents & Mice

March 28, 2012

Not a lot to write about for last week and this week… a bit of a down time but it’s alright as I’ve got some great reads keeping me company. 

Just finished The Red Tent and was so struck by how many things from the life of Biblical times parallel the ways of life here in Togo. I made a list. If you’ve read the book you know it’s about a woman, Dinah, from the Genesis Chapter 34 so the reader gains a real insight about the lives of women in that era, even if the book is pure fiction.  From carrying water from the well each morning, to cooking for the family and caring for the children to the fascination and desire to have babies – multiple babies. Losing babies and how common and almost expected it was back then and still isn’t a total shock when it happens here.  My Togolese host sister’s life of fetching, tending the garden and helping with the other children doesn’t seem so foreign when reading about the young girls doing the same things in the book. Women’s lower position of serving men, bowing to them and having very little voice in the relationship. Ironically, I’ve noticed my host mother and father eating together recently- quite rare- and in the book there were a few women who stood up and were listened to by the men.  How the women in the book form a bond; a community all their own.  The women in the story go to town to sell their wool and hawk at every passerby.. yep that’s Togo. Teacher’s beating students when they make a mistake, families sleeping outside when it’s too hot, naked kids playing in the dust, morning is the busiest time of day before the  heat of the day sets in as women fetch water and gossip at the well, sweep and the men leave early for the farm or fields.  All things I read in the Red Tent only to look up and watch the same things happening here on a daily basis in Togo. Interestingly enough it helped me accept the circumstances here a bit more.  I think as foreigners we often come in and only see all the problems, areas to improve in the lives of people living in a developing country.  I’ll walk around LT wishing I could get the people to eat better, sleep under mosquito nets, drink clean water…etc. But when I look at it from this historical perspective, I didn’t see so much wrong with it; just how it is and it’s okay. A bit of a strange feeling…

In other news the Camp Espoir team met last weekend in Sokode with our NGO counterparts.  Two organizations from each of the 5 regions of Togo were represented as we discussed Camp this year.  Each organization works directly with children and their families infected or affected by HIV/AIDS in their respective regions.  These are the NGO’s who select and bring the kids to camp each summer.  We introduced a new concept of raising community support/awareness, which was met with mixed responses.  This is a new idea (local fundraising) as many Togolese – like many in the developing world- have grown a mindset of expecting foreign aid instead of gaining local support and making things happen on their own.  And it’s possible.  Not all, but many families have the means to donate a little but the concept is so unknown because when someone needs something they all pitch in but rarely do they give to a ‘campaign’, organization, event – or a camp for the vulnerable kids in their communities.  We’ve asked the each organization to hold an event of some sort to help raise awareness of Camp Espoir and maybe raise a little financial support.  Who would have thought when I entered the fundraising world back at UNI it would land me here trying to teach the concept to Togolese.

What else? Oh yes, I have mice.  For the first few months here I heard scratching around in my drop ceiling and got away with pretending they were just lizards but last week I discovered droppings in my dresser drawers. AHHHH.  I can handle ants and lizards but mice are just gross.  Spreading the poison liberally while cringing at the thought of having to remove a dead smelly one…oh this life.

Next week is Easter break for the school here so I’m going to voyage north to spend a few days at the pool in Kara and then visit some friends’ villages.  There is a Passover dinner in Atakpame on Friday, organized by the Jewish PCV’s here that I may try to get to and experience but if not, I’m planning to spend Easter back here and ‘fete’ or celebrate with my friends from the Catholic church.  

I’ve been wanting to repost the post below for a while from PCV in Ethiopia.  He describes this PCV life so well and even though he’s on the other side of the continent, it couldn’t mirror my life any better. I hope it will give you a glimpse into this life too..enjoy and thanks to “Waids World” for this post.

"The Real Peace Corps" (Michael Waidmann)

I feel as though I’ve done somewhat of a disservice throughout this blog. I’ve painted a picture of my time here that isn’t precisely accurate. I’m an emotional person, romantic, optimistic to a fault. I like extremes and superlatives. I exaggerate in an attempt to draw the reader in, and to make sense of things I can’t make sense of.

I romanticize this experience as a function of my personality but also as a coping mechanism. Peace Corps is really hard.

So I want to write about the real Ethiopia. And the real Peace Corps experience. That way, if a future volunteer reads this, they understand what to expect, and won’t hate me for only showing sunset pictures and kids holding hands.

So what should you expect?

Nothing is the best answer. Expect nothing and you will be pleasantly surprised. Every experience is different. My friend Jon lives 80 miles away. Our lives could not be more different. His house has no floor save for the mud it was built on. He is lucky to have power one day out of the week.  My sitemate Dave lives 200 meters from my house and our experiences are entirely different.

So here are some observations, a look into what I do, and an idea of what your potential service will look like.

Peace Corps is defined by a strange dichotomy. Freedom and containment. I wake up every day with a blank slate. I can do anything. I can do nothing. And while the possibilities are only limited by my own imagination, the ability to do as I please is corrupted by a number of social, political, and cultural practices.

Case in point: Most volunteers assume they will run to let off steam in their new country. However, running here is a cause of stress more so than a release. You get stared at as a foreigner here. These are stares that know no shame. Stares that you can feel without seeing. They are honest and curious stares, but can crack even the kindest of spirits. But a foreigner in shorts? Running? That is unheard of.  Running here means being followed by hordes of children, the last thing you need when trying to let off steam.

I want to export coffee to benefit local farmers and provide an organic alternative to the Starbucks mess we have back home. The bureaucratic structure here has destroyed those dreams. Disappointment is part of the PC experience.

Doing something like the Peace Corps will be your lowest of lows and your highest of highs. Highs that shatter your previous world views.  You will feel refreshed, walk in a forest and quote Thoreau. The lows can last so long that you need a fleeting moment of existentialism just to make it through the rainy season. Well, that, and a ton of movies. You will consider going home. You will count down the days until you leave. You will count up from the day you arrived.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here for a year.”

“I can’t believe we’ll be here another year!”

You will understand yourself, question yourself. Compare where you came from to where you are. I have days when I miss America. I have days when I loathe it. Why do people care about Charlie Sheen and Amy Winehouse? How many marines died last week? How many kids in the horn of Africa died of hunger? I can’t even imagine dying of hunger. When I’m hungry, I eat.

But I eat strange food. Ethiopian food is unlike anything else in the world. Sometimes it is delicious, but most times it is very mediocre. Other times, it is so incredibly bad that I consider burning down every plant that grows whatever the hell is in ‘gunfo’

Don’t try gunfo.

Universally, Peace Corps volunteers crave food. I have dreams about it. Vivid dreams where I belly flop into a bowl of ice cream off of a hot fudge brownie diving board. Sushi. I have a long distance relationship with Sushi and we are not communicating well.

As volunteers, we love to complain. We joke about our poop and our pooping locations. We laugh about smelling bad.

We smell bad.

We yearn for hot showers. But I think it’s just for show. Any volunteer, more so than food or showers, miss people and places. You will miss friends and seasons. During your service, you will be alone on the Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving. You will miss your family, your really hot girlfriend, and the contextual clues you associate with fond memories. I know what the Chesapeake bay feels like on thanksgiving. I can feel the football, and taste the sweet potato pie. I know what Glebe Park looks like, the green asphalt and the smell of cut grass.

You will be stared at 24/7 365. I understand what it’s like to be a good-looking girl at a frat party. Stay strong ladies.

You will develop an eerie sense of calm. I’ve spent 75 hours in the last two weeks on a bus. The DMV will be a breeze now. I’ve found new and embarrassing ways to entertain myself. I could watch paint dry and be perfectly happy.

One of the great things about Peace Corps is you have a massive amount of time to become a better person. The best advice I can give is to try and do something everyday to improve upon yourself. For some people this is writing or reading. For others it is teaching English or working out. Learn an instrument or paint. Do whatever works for you, but know this: You will stare at the wall. I stare at the wall a lot. I’ve had every thought someone can have. Probably twice.

Transportation completely sucks.

I just got out of a bus with 12 seats on it. There were 25 people on it. There were two chickens and probably 20 kilo’s of rancid butter. Here’s a quck letter:

Dear Ethiopia,

It’s ok to open the windows on the bus. I promise you won’t die from the wind. I promise it’s not that cold. Currently, sweat is running down my lower back and into the danger zone. My sweat is sweating. Fresh air is nothing to be scared of. Tuberculosis is. As much as I like saunas and the smell of chicken feces, can we please crack the window’s for 2 minutes? I will love you forever.

Yours truly,

Michael

There is no average day.

Last week, my Tuesday was crazy. I had a meeting with the tourism office about making them a website. I taught a man how to make guacemole and tortillas which he will sell in his store. I played basketball, added a layer to a clay oven and worked on the newsletter I am writing for Peace Corps.

The next day? I slept in, watched a silly amount of the show ‘Dexter’ and checked my fantasy baseball team while the internet was up. Yeah, I’m cool.

There will be times when, despite your pictures of you hugging little kids, you just want to tackle one of them and scream, my name is NOT,

“you you you!!!!!, give me money!!!!!!”

In America we ask for the time. Here, we ask for the month. It’s the most obvious difference. The pace of life here is slow, methodical, cyclical. Everything takes a long time. If you aren’t a patient person you will become one.

Life here is completely different. It is another world, lost in space and time. It is hard, and the little annoyances can manifest themselves into a black cloud. They certainly will, but it is important to make note of the small victories and the little moments. When I open my eyes I am reminded of why I am here. Just when I think a kid is running up to me to ask me for money, she tells me that she loves me and blows a kiss. But then I get on a bus and start crying. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a busted engine. It’s getting dark, I have a chicken in my lap and personal space at this point is a distant memory. People are yelling into their cell phones, begging me to speak to them and take them to America. Oh and the only food in the town by the road is Gunfo.

Remember in times like this to take a deep breath. Peace Corps really is a roller coaster. An exhilarating and scary ride that completely sucks and totally kicks ass.

And when you are feeling down, just remember to go outside and let Africa save you.

WWEC- A lesson in planning

Wow. The Women’s Wellness & Empowerment Conference (WWEC) was really something.  By far the busiest week I’ve had in Togo.  Last Wednesday our team of 10 PCV’s and 3 national WWEC PCV organizers gathered to discuss the 4 day long conference.  I was overwhelmed, stressed and anxious.  I learned a strong lesson in planning – and I love to plan.  You see, I was in charge of leading 3 sessions on business topics, two with Rebekah, one by myself and my Togolese instructors (three women who attended last year’s conference),  helping with a session on self-confidence, one on goal setting, and one by myself on nutrition.  Then, I had two morning sessions of yoga.  This is a lot and unfortunately I underestimated the amount of time needed to plan.  In America, I could whip out these sessions no problem- with a few minutes of prep, a few minutes to throw a powerpoint together, and I could always rely on the knowledge off the top of my head.  Well, Togo works differently and I needed a concrete plan for each session, ranging from 30-90 min with flip charts (working on going green next year) and spots for the Togolese instructors to help and have an input.  What made this even more challenging was co-leading a session and thus having to strategize with my fellow PCV. Oh and then put it all in French! WHEW! Let’s just say Wednesday was not my finest day.  Luckily I pulled it together and after a long night of flip charts and discussing, I put the last pieces together Thursday morning and was ready for the participants to arrive Thursday afternoon.

From there it was go-go-go.  Thursday night we had an opening ceremony with the past participants testimonies and then after dinner a candle light ceremony.  One of the Togolese instructors, Madame Amina led this session and it was amazing.  She talked about how women are the heart of the family, the world and we have the opportunity to grow and learn at this conference and improve our lives, families, and our world.  Even cooler, she used a word in local language that summed all that up- and you could see it click with the women. 

The event was held at Hotel Central in Sokode, a hotel with hot running water, air conditioning and a restaurant.  It’s a real hotel J The idea was for this to be a vacation for the women, who ranged in age from 28-55.  We hoped they would feel pampered as for some of them this was their first time away from home and definitely the first time enjoying the aforementioned luxuries.  Ironically, throughout the week when I had to go to a women’s room I noticed the air was not on which made me wonder if they were even using it or the hot water.  Hm.  Also, our regional coordinators planned all the meals – to be complete with veggies and fruit and meat – a rare thing to have in each meal here.  We ate well. I ate myself sick a few days.  But the women- they wanted to know where their pate (pronounced pot) was.  This is the staple of Togolese diet- ground corn flour boiled and made into a paste like substance that they eat with a variety of sauces.  Ah- forcing a round peg into a square hole?  An interesting lesson in western vs local culture and values. Selfishly, myself and the other PCV’s were in heaven; taking multiple showers, turning the AC on high, eating ourselves silly.  In fact, our AC worked so well it took us until the 4^th night to be able to sleep through the night without having to turn it off because we were too cold. Funny how your body adapts.  Rebekah took pictures of us bundled up in all of the clothes we had; my heaviest dresses on top of me in the bed for warmth. It was wonderful and made the few days after the conference tough in readjusting to the ‘real world.’

Back to the conference.  Yoga was held on the tennis courts at 6 am and I led the women through basic breathing exercises and then some basic yoga poses.  Then, Jes one of our national PCV coordinators followed with a talk about stress. Demonstrating the difference between physical stress (going to the farm every day, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children) by having a women carry lots of things and run back and forth.  Then I stood on a chair and filled a bucket on top of a woman’s head with water as Jes explained mental stress. Each time she listed off something stressful (kids sick, husband not helping, no money, daughter pregnant, a death, a marriage) I added water to the bucket to signify the weight on your head.  It was so cool and you could see the women totally getting this new concept.  We then connected how simple breathing and yoga is a good way to deal with this stress.  An awesome way to start the conference.

Melissa, a girls education PCV, and I lead the opening session on self-confidence, another new concept.  We did a skit of a husband belittling his wife over this and that and the wife not responding at all.  Then we had the women write down negative things they hear in their life. Then we had them tear up the papers and throw them in the trash.  “Today,” we said, “will be the start of positive and encouraging things in our lives, and it starts with us.” We then went on to talk about all the things we liked about ourselves and all the things we can do.  The women were quiet and but we knew they were comprehending as they finished the exercise about positive things about themselves beautifully. 

Then, as I sat in the back room, helping prep for the next session I listened as Jes and Amina led a session on Women’s Rights.  I smiled as I heard their different ideas of rights and thought of my own mother’s voice and the response she would give me when I was a child and demanding something she just HAD to do for me.  “All I have to do is die and pay taxes,” she would say. And this is the gist of what the women came to (although very few people pay taxes in Togo as so much work is unregistered).  They don’t HAVE to have children, they don’t HAVE to be the sole person in charge of the children; it’s suppose to be a team effort.  Another moving moment knowing some real thinking and change was going on in these 18 women’s minds and hearts.

A really cool afternoon session was about women’s sexual reproductive health and Madame Amina (who is a trained midwife) drew a big uterus/fallopian tube/ovary/ vagina diagram in chalk right on the conference room tile floor.  Amazing when she asked how it works and which part is which how many women had no idea.  It was so cool to watch her walk through (literally) the process to explain how pregnancy, monthly cycle works.  Later, one of the women’s reported favorite sessions was on Family Planning and the advantages it brings for the woman, baby, family, and all of Togo.  

That night we had a natural beauty night for the women.  Melissa and I gave facials using different concoctions made from local things (orange juice, honey, salt, etc) while PCV’s gave manicures and pedicures.  It was so neat to be able to serve these women.  After facials I soon found myself on the floor scrubbing and massaging feet.  I don’t mind feet and I quite enjoyed watching the women relaxing and enjoy being taken care of.  Most feet weren’t too nasty (as I expected) but one bigger mama had some massive feet. Swollen, cracked, heavy and thick -it was nuts.  She was a bit embarrassed but I encouraged her to use shea butter (which they sell in the market here) for the cracks and cuts and to elevate her feet at night for the swelling.

Exhausted, I collapsed around 11 only to wake a few hours late to be ready for yoga.  Bring on the coffee.  Thankfully, my energy and passion came through as I gave one of the first sessions of the day on nutrition.  The women know and understand nutrition so after I had them split into groups and play a little game about making a ‘complete’ meal (not just pate and tomato sauce) with produce and protein, I really tried to get to the heart of WHY so many families don’t practice good nutrition.  Is it money, ignorance, what? I explained how when a child only eats carbs (pate or yams –a very common meal for lunch) or fried dough their brain doesn’t fully develop and tried to stress the need for variety.  I gave the real example of my host family; how my family has the money to buy vegetables and the means (my mom goes to Sokode twice a week) but yet the only vegetables the family eats besides tomatoes and onions are the left over cabbage I give them.  Ultimately, I told them they have to choose to make nutrition a priority for their families.

Rebekah and I led two more sessions about a feasibility study (selling a product or service so that you actually make a profit) and then a longer session about planning, budgeting and saving.  Both went really well and the latter was one of the women’s favorites.  After they learned how to make a garden in a sack (if they don’t have the land close) to grow staple, simple vegetables I led a panel of the Togolese instructors financial examples.  Each shared their methods of saving, budgeting and how their lives have changed because of it.  I felt like a talk show host.  Thankfully, through all of these sessions I wasn’t nervous or self conscious with my French at all.  Most of these women haven’t been educated past middle school, so their French isn’t that strong either and so it worked.  Having other PCV’s in the room to help when I got stuck on a word or didn’t understand a response was key too. We ended that night with another candle ceremony where the women went around and said what they learned and will take away from the conference.  Later, the women gave traditional dances in their various ethnicity backgrounds.  Amazing to watch how women who have never met each other all know the dance of the Kabye women for example and to watch their pride in their culture. We did the Macarana for them-ha! 

Sunday morning we concluded with how to be a female role model and each woman set a long term goal and objectives to reach their goals in spreading their knowledge with their communities.  Needless to say, this was a very powerful few days.  Exhausting and exhilarating I didn’t really do much but sleep and rest Sunday afternoon and Monday.  A truly incredible and rewarding week; for the women and their futures, for me as a women and as a PCV. 

Acceptance

Apparently 9 months is my magic number.  I’ve officially been in Togo 9 months and just this week I’ve felt this amazing sense of peace and acceptance with my life here.  I believe it was Thursday this week that it hit me; this is a hard life, it’s never going to get easier and you’re always going to miss people.  That is my thing- missing people and places back home.  Some volunteers miss the food in America more than anything, some miss the weather,--and while I miss both of those too, my ‘plight’ is longing for people and company of my close friends and family. But this week a new peace washed over me.  The realization that this longing is never really going to go away brought hope instead of anguish.  And I’m so thankful.

Whoever has been praying for cooler temperatures, God has heard and answered. And I thank you.  Friday morning was nasty hot but around noon it clouded over and I wasn’t afraid to ride my bike across town at 3 p.m. it was so exciting!  Then around 2 am Saturday morning the rain came and poured and poured for a few hours. Not only did I get a fresh round of water out of this but it brought quite cool temps all day Saturday and Sunday and we have been basking in the comfortable temps and lack of sweating!

An updated on the very malnourished little girl:  Terry the health agent took her and her mother to the hospital last week where they told her she must take the child immediately north to Kara where they have a specific clinic for children in her condition.  At no cost to the family (only the travel to get there and back) they can leave the little girl and come back for her when she is well again. The family’s response: they are tired and they have no money to take her to the clinic.  The mother is going to try and sell some fabric and the father retreated to the bush to collect some charcoal to sell. I found out later that she fell sick back in August, having been relatively healthy before that. The trip to Kara is relatively inexpensive (only about 90 min away) and they could definitely collect the money in one night after prayer at the mosque. Alas, they said they’ve already asked too many friends/family for money and they don’t want to do that again. So, I’m resisting urges.  The urge to criticize these negligent parents because it’s not like I can file a report with DHS and the urge to flag down a car and put the mother and child on it headed for Kara.  You see that’s the point, but it’s hard to explain and I may sound like a selfish, unloving person here. But this little girl has been sick for 7 months and now just because we have discovered her and her sad condition, it’s hard to declare we will make her well and simply hand over the 5 mille it will take for them to go and come to the clinic.  Believe me, part of me really really wants to just do that and be done with it; removing it from my conscious.  But that’s not why I’m here.  Hard to explain but serving as a PCV is about walking into a village and solving all of the problems by doling out money.  But she’s going to die Taylor, you say. Yes, she may die, but like one wise man said, maybe it would be a blessing for her to pass onto heaven and rest.  I don’t know the answer. I’m praying for the family to find the money, or what’s more, to be motivated to find the money and then actually get her to the clinic.

Last week was busy busy and this week just might be my busiest yet… and I this fits me so well.  Monday and Tuesday Ryan (health PCV in Sokode) and I worked at his house and mine to prepare for our meeting Wednesday with the NGOf that Aposto is the director of.  Wednesday morning we held a kick-butt presentation on Family Planning with the hopes that the NGO staff would take the info back to their team of local health agents who they oversee.  Ryan did a phenomenal job; he is a great presenter and his French and knowledge of the topic is impressive.  This is something I’m passionate about promoting and I’m so thankful Ryan could help make this happen. 

Wednesday afternoon was English Club at the middle school and this always makes me happy and hopeful. My kids are so great. About 20-25 pre-teens who are energetic and attentive and make me feel pretty special.  They finished their letters to America; sending them off to the kids at YESS in Des Moines and Stratford school.  Hoping to establish a solid ‘pen-pal’ effort!  Some of the leaders (and my favorites, of course) of the club took over labeling and numbering the new books we received from the Pleasant View and Stratford classes.  A special THANK YOU to these generous kids and encouraging teachers.  Also, THANK YOU to the WC Rotary Club for making the shipping of these boxes possible… watch your mailbox .. we will have something headed your way too!

Because my family’s well is almost dry, my kids help me carry water from the well a little ways a way after English Club and then they accompany me on my way to Mr. Sinya’s house and peel off as we reach each of their houses on the way. It’s a pretty cool time I look forward to each Wednesday. I went to Sinya’s on this particular night because he was inviting those who had helped him cultivate and prep his farm for yam planting over for a calabash of tchouk.  Yes, this is normal; work for your teacher and then come drink with him.  By the time I arrived the students had gone and a few teachers remained and I enjoyed some warm tchouk with them.  Sinya thanked my privately later saying, “we have a system here, when you eat and drink with us it shows respect and we really appreciate it.” No problem, dude. I’ll take a free meal (even if it is ground corn with nasty green sauce-yep I’ve reached that point) and bowl of fermented millet anytime.

Thursday morning I spent at the middle/high school sitting in on the English classes. This is both rewarding and frustrating.  I also always realize how much grammar I’ve forgotten or don’t even realize I use on a daily basis.  If my French ever becomes understandable for Togolese, I think I’d enjoy teaching a class next school year. We will see.  Then that afternoon was Girls club.  In theory this activity every Thursday afternoon would be more rewarding as we’re teaching 60+ girls life skills like communication and self confidence.  However, with my French still struggling (Sinya and Aposto can comprehend my poor speaking best) Sinya is really the one who leads the club, which is fine as he is passionate about it and is respected by all.  While frustrating for me, I pray the message about good communication skills (eye contact is a novel thing here to girls) reached a few of them.

Friday I enjoyed a more relaxed day.  I made some special batik gifts (for some special people with special days coming up J ) with Aposto and then I spent the rest of the day under his piotte where it’s cool reading my book.  I didn’t feel like doing anything else, and I gave myself permission to sit and read and read…and it was wonderful.  I did head over to Sinya’s later to practice my yoga with the kids hanging at his house.  I’m teaching yoga (in French) this week for the women’s conference and I needed to practice the commands with the movements and who better than four twelve year old boys. It was funny to watch them try to stretch and encouraging as they understood what I was saying!

Saturday I enjoyed the morning at home and then went ‘shopping’ in the market (every Saturday in LT) with Nima who helped me pick out some dressier sandals for my upcoming presentations.  I also ordered some liquid soap (think dish soap) from a woman and then said hello to one of my girls from Club who was selling tchouk in her families stand.  This seems normal to me; but once in a while I can look at this me/this place as an outsider looking in and realize how strange that might seem… a twelve year old selling local beer and inviting me to drink with her. Oh this place. We enjoyed some tchouk with the usual crowd at our usual tchouk stand and called it a night.  Yesterday, Sunday I headed to Sokode early on my bike where I had to attend meetings for CampEspoir (Camp Hope) and it was a very full day where I realized even more how crazy this spring and summer are truly going to be… whoo hoo!

And this week; here we go.  Thursday, 20 Togolese women from throughout my region will arrive for a 4 day conference on information from each of the 4 PC  sectors.  I’m helping lead 4 sessions plus two mornings of yoga.  How do you do this in French, Taylor, you ask? Good question. Lots of flip charts and pronunciation practice with Sinya…and leaning on other PCV’s for help!  I’m pumped though.  I love to plan and organize events so tomorrow (Tues) I’ll head to Sokode to begin setting up and getting ready for this exciting week!