One Month!

I have now lived in Togo, West Africa for one month. Somehow it doesn’t seem like this has been real. I feel like this is just my life and how it is supposed to be. I teach and I love my seven 5 year olds so much. I can already see a change in them and look forward to all that they will learn this year. I have also added some consulting/teach duties in the afternoon at the primary school. I think this is also good. It has been mentioned that I might work myself into the director position if I stay. It is just a completely different world here.

I’ve come to grips with the fact that no matter how much I travel I will always be an American and I think differently. Things like time, logic, and old school manners are ingrained in me. I am trying to nap each day but I still can’t sleep, regardless of how tired I am. One day in the next few month I am hoping to actually sleep like my roommate does each afternoon rather than lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

My house is good and my roommate and I are doing great. I feel that living with her brings out the good in both of us. The most conflict we have is when one of us think the other has bought too many groceries or has washed the dishes too many times or cooked too much. Then we pretend that we can’t understand the language (as she speaks French and I speak English) the other is speaking. Then we laugh. I love my puppy too. She is getting stronger and clueing into all kinds of things. She continues to make us laugh and everyone we know loves her too. One of my favorite things she does is when she tries to jump up in the chair until you pick her up and hold her and she cuddles up against you. She is 9 weeks old now and so I am anticipating the terrible twos and teething to begin at some point soon. Oh and I find it hilarious that she understands that we use the restroom and she has begun to also do her business there when we are not home.

I’m becoming well versed in riding all kinds of motos (motorcycles) in all kinds of condition. The key is to relax enough, but still be aware. I’ve been all over Lome and I might go to a village soon. I have to wait and see.

I do all of my laundry by hand out in the yard in plastic wash basins. I think that my clothes are cleaner and it doesn’t take as long to wash by hand as it does to use the machine at the school. Two hours for one washing machine cycle is just more than I can handle.

I have hired a French teacher whom I meet with 2 or 3 times each week and he is slowly helping me understand the language and then practice. I find it difficult because I just don’t have any vocabulary. I think I would have progressed more if I didn’t teach in English all day long and then speak English at home. The only time I need French is when I’m out and I can’t really do much aside from greet everyone. But I will learn French I am determined.

I’m still meeting people and I’ve actually been invited to a wedding this weekend. I met this American girl and she has been living with a Togolese man in the States and now they have moved here and are getting married. It will be fun to meet new people and support her, she seems like a really nice girl. My roommate and I also figure it will be fun to go to the swanky hotel they are getting married at and the food will be good too.

I’ve also managed to get in on the invite list to the Marine House at the embassy. I guess they have weekly events and so that should be an experience.

I do need to mention that I have been to some Togolese homes here in the past few weeks and it humbles me to be invited to their homes where they offer me their best. I pray over the food and water as I don’t have the heart to tell them I am afraid to eat their food. These people work or are supported by family members when they can’t find work. They have big hearts, joyful laughter, and contagious smiles. They have hardly spoken to a white person, let alone had one at their home and it’s special that I get to be with them and share their time. Some of them have electricity, some don’t. Some have a “clean pipe” for water, others don’t. Some have concrete floors, others have dirt. They all live in a close commune type of a situation, whether it is a few cement rooms that share a dirt yard with many other cement room homes with tin roofs and awnings. Others live in apartment building that are spooky dark and open into a basic room that serves as the kitchen, living room, dinning room, and bedroom. They share the coal fire (think rough mini bbq) that they use indoors. They keep it going and pass it to one another when they are finished. They cook with so little and rarely have running water that it makes my conditions seem like royalty. It is beyond me what they would think of my American home. I tried to explain what a microwave was to one friend and he was amazed and it was like I made up a story or something.
These are the best times when I am sharing someone else’s life with them and my life doesn’t even fit into the conversation.