Text Messages and Togo English

Today I was cleaning out my messages on my phone and as I was reading them I bust out laughing. I love my friends and they make a more than honorable effort at English but these messages just need to be shared with you too. I thought about translating them for you but then I thought I'd take all the fun away so here they are in the raw. Enjoy and feel the love from my friends.

want 2 wish u a gud day

you fine?

tanks you. nice food. i like so mach. tanks

live kodjo i follow u come a they store

hello my sister i greet u wha do u feel

hi never cme his cll hi they aeroport wif his brother

make come?

are u in the house?

Greet hpy birds day.

I m baf i m coming

i m so sorry i woth football in television

Greet were are you rain coming sorry

Hi nina i m buzy in y scool please

i m not enderstend sorry...foget

Hi my sister what you body is fine?

good morning who are you? im the house.

i m want but now i go some biziness see 5 o'clock.

the kapiter they our fromtt he tell me make come help.

grace and peace of God up on you.

Dirt, Sand, and Mud

I realize as I sit here feeding my blog a few updates that my comfort level with all things dirty has changed significantly. How did this happen? I literally just reached down and scratched my ankle and my entire hand is now dirty! It is like a magnetic attraction or something. My friend have just laughed at this and so I thought I should share the moment.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not OCD or anything, but I like to wash and be clean. Well, after 10 months of walking in the sand and charcoal mixed roads, that turn to muddy lakes whenever it rains, I guess I just accept the fact my feet are never going to be clean again. I paint my toenails to hide the dirt and if I walk on certain streets then the dirt looks more like a nice tan on my lower legs. I have house shoes that I change into at the door...I try at least.

Then there is the ever present sand in my sandals, on the floor of my house, and even in my sheets! I loathed the sand so I dusted and changed my sheets so frequently the first half of my stay here that it was funny. Now I just lay in the sand and think, what harm is it anyway? It will come back tomorrow. I'll sleep on smooth clean sheets in America for a few weeks.

I do realize that the majority of the sand in my house is due to the cutest monster dog in Africa. I hope our next house will maybe have some kind of ground cover with the sand so that the sand stays put in the yard more readily.

Monster Dog

When I first got Roxy 8 months ago she was this tiny thing, not even 6 inches high. I knew right away she was special after eating an enormous amount of sand (where my roommate spilled some coffee creamer) and almost died the first week I got her. But like we all know I bond with the special kids and animals very well. She is incredibly loving and needy, yet her playfulness and stubborn streak is enough to drive me crazy. I think she skipped all developmental stages and is permanently stuck on “challenge mom”. She is so clever and knows things I only taught her once or twice, yet the basics like “sit” and “come” she refuses to do unless she feels moved to oblige you. None of my Togolese friends understand this so they don’t follow through with any command…well that is if they can remember the right English word for the command that they want. This may also play into why she isn’t trained….hmmmm. Then there are those Togolese who are mortally afraid of her to begin with. They also marvel at the way I just talk to her like she understands me. I know she does most of the time, like just a few moments ago she brought in some huge stick and I told her to take it outside or I’d throw it over the wall and she can’t play with it anymore. She thought it over and I went back to typing and she took the huge dirty branch just over the doorway and laid it on the steps gnawing at it.
Even though she can be a silly mess she lightens most days, I guess even the days I spend filling in trenches she has dug in hopes of building me a swimming pool. We play games like fetch the palm branch, or tug of war with anything resembling a rope, or clothesline, or clothes hanging from the clothesline. I also found when she was still small that if she was begging to be pet and I could blow in her nose causing her to get so excited that she would run circles around the room and yard, pausing for me to blow in her nose again and again. This was cute until she grew to abnormal proportions and now it’s the bull in a china shop effect in the living room as she knocks chairs and the table out of sorts running and flailing in joyous play. I have to give her a little credit for her ability to play independently with tin cans, random branches or her bones. She can toss them up in the air several feet and then she runs after them as if I had just thrown them in a game of fetch.
Have I mentioned any change in her life, such as a visitor, rain, or my absence causes her to just run huge laps around the yard, but she has a special happy run that is to be noted. She leaps and runs like a gazelle bounding all over. This is another special quality that she possesses in her wealth of entertaining traits.
She loves to stalk the lizards, geckos, and birds and I fear she is only getting better as she has maimed one and even killed a few. She is also a master as killing ants, flies, roaches, moths and spiders in the house. Mice are still a little too swift but she gives it a go anyway. I pray she never sees one of the scorpions that have been making uninvited appearances in the bathroom. Then there is her love for green beans, mango pits, and carrots that will cause her to leave her food bowl and wait patiently at the kitchen door for a small bit. She really posses as a vegetarian at times, but I do make sure she gets bones and the occasional raw chicken leg that help immensely with her oral fixation and leave her with the appearance of being intoxicated.
She is one special dog who is treated better than most Togolese children. No one can understand why on earth I could take her to America with me and not them. There are only a few who tries to share my love and understanding for her, but I know that it is hard now that she is so big.

Mixed Feelings

Lately I have been reading the Patrick MacManus book I brought with me. I think that it’s been a good laugh and at least made me think about America more. I know as the days go on I feel a little more tense about tickets and finances and transportation and returning in general. I hope it all goes ok.

I had a dream last night that I was hired as a teacher in America. I remember I was walked into a staff meeting and introduced and it was a very cold feeling. I was dressed in my same old oversized clothes I wear here, while everyone had nice clothes that fit them. I was shown my class of delinquent high schoolers that oozed potential if I could just show them how to fix their flat tires and climb mountains. I remember that my classroom in my dream didn’t really have walls but more like cubical dividers in a gym. Then I was teaching. I was really teaching in my dream and I was having that magic where I had them and they were getting it. I felt great. I missed that feeling and wished I had it here. Then I was overcome with a feeling of not belonging and wanted to be in Africa more than anything. I felt like I was just pretending to fit in America, but I am living and being here.

So this summer I will spend three weeks that will fly by. I won’t see everyone as I need to just relax a little. I hope that at Christmas I will go all over and see everyone with Richard.

Photocopies

Photocopies involve logic believe it or not! We were recently trying to make a few simple photocopies. The money wrench that I threw into the mix was I had my own cardstock that I wanted the few pages printed on. So we pull into the first place. The girl tells me that instead of 10 francs it was going to be 100 francs because I brought my own paper. “What!!!!” I explained, wanting to you a few explicative words. I then went through the whole explanation to her and my friend. If I bring my own paper I am not buying paper from her but only the ink in copy machine. She told me then that was not how it worked. She told me that it was simple to understand and my problem (have I mentioned that there is great customer service here) was that the original was 2cm taller than the card stock and so that was not possible because the papers where not the exact same size. Then she elaborated that I brought thicker paper so she was going to charge me more because my paper is heavy where her paper is thin. I couldn’t grasp this, or may be I just refused to so I went through this whole explanation again and refuted her argument in great detail. She laughed at me and told me my paper would cost me more because it was thicker even though I brought it. I walked out with my card stock mumbling under my breath about the failure some people have to listen to logic in what others have to say. Mind you I’ve had similar experiences with Kinkos employees in Hollywood so I know it’s not an African thing.
The second place looked at me and said it was impossible to print on my paper. The third place refused as someone had paper like mine and it broke the machine when they put it in the paper tray. I could feel the determination rising within me that we must find a place that can do this. I know it’s possible and at a reasonable price. The fourth place said it was not possible. Then the fifth place wanted 250 Francs. Hello that is straight insanity! So we stand there and talk more to the man and the woman she finally gives in and prints them up for us at 50 Franc each. This is livable. I even gave her the tip that you should load it from the side and not in the tray. She was thankful for the photocopy advise. We bonded I guess you could say. I was relieved that this escapade was over and now we could focus on a more imperative adventure like finding colico (yam potato wedges that are fried and served with hot peppe) my favorite treat.

Voo Doo

Given all the reading and information that is available about voo doo in the neighboring country and Togo I knew that I would some how see evidence of it first hand during my stay here in Lome. There is the very large voo doo market on the other side of town that I thought I might venture through once and be done just to see the freakish and evil things that lerk there but I have since changed my mind after seeing that voo doo is something that people here, even church people, take seriously.

I have seen women in traditional voo doo attire walking the roads or standing on the side of the road watching people. These women are usually dressed in a plain brown wrap or panya from their belly down and are topless. They have a half if a gord on their head and they have ash smeared in symbols, mostly lines and circles, all over their face, arms, back, chest, and legs.

One very dark night I was walking home from my friend’s house who live three houses down the street and I saw two children walking toward me. I didn’t see at first that they were dressed in voo doo attire but was more concerned about the little boy holding the plastic bag over his head. They just stared at me and it was really spooky. I prayed the rest of the way home.

Another time I was at Richard’s apartment and we heard a parade outside. We went to the window and saw people dressed in all kinds of traditional dress and then a man dresses in an African version of a mascot outfit jumping around and yelling at people above the noise of the drums and bells. I asked and Richard explained to me that it was the voo doo men making a ceremony. I had this yucky feeling all over. I was glad that I saw it from the second story of the building and not up close.

There have been a few times that Richard and I have seen people around us or people come and cause problems between us and someone has mentioned that there was voo doo involved. I didn’t take it too seriously and knew that we would all be ok, but these people and even Richard we suspect that voo doo was trying to work its wickedness in our lives due to a few nasty people around us.

Recently things have been great but I found a scorpion in my bathroom. It was brown and was about three or four inches long. I panicked a little, never having seen one that was not behind glass and might pose a threat to me, but luckily my friend david was there and when I yelled “oh my gosh there is a scorpion in my bathroom” he kindly and quickly replied “well, quick take off your shoe and kill it.” He never came to investigate or check, what a true friend. I took off my shoe, smashed, and then flushed the vanquished beast. I was proud of myself but hoped that there wasn’t a scorpion season as Roxy loves her spiders, geckos, lizards, birds, and all other crawly things to chase. This could be a dreadful thing to chase. I told Richard, ever so proudly, about killing the scorpion and then about my concerns about Roxy. Richard grew very concerned and wanted to know why I didn’t call him and where the body was and warned me that it was only the work of a voo doo man that brought this creature into my house. He told me I needed to be careful and watch out because someone meant harm for me.
Elizabeth felt that may be it entered through a hole in the concrete and I was thinking that sounded a bit more realistic but if one came would more come? I check each room when I enter and don’t leave as much laundry or stuff on the floor. I also am never barefoot anymore.

Then two weeks after this dramatic killing of the scorpion I found yet another, smaller scorpion, in the bathroom as I went for my middle of the night potty run. I had to wake myself up more before I attempted to kill this one as I thought I might miss and then get my just desserts. So I woke up a bit more and ground this one into the floor then flushed the goo. The next day Richard was not pleased that the voo doo man had done this again and I had not called him to inspect the body or at least saved it for him to look at. I was a little disappointed that there was no “good job honey” involved in his speech but he is the African and has seen Africa more than me. I promised the next one I would save for him and he was satisfied. I just pray I don’t have that opportunity.

My conclusion is that like anywhere evil comes in different shapes and sizes. I don’t think I want the slightest to do with this evil and will leave it out of my life and pray against it because God is always greater.

Observations

Recently I took my friend’s father, who is visiting from America, to the boarder market. This market takes place each Wednesday when people from villages come and sell leaves, dried fish and snakes, used clothes, eggs, produce, and cloth. I guess you could think of it as the farmer’s market African style. We walked there and chatted the whole time. As we walked I pointed to this and that and what it is used for. He pointed out that I’ve had quite an education here in many different ways. As this sunk in the rest of the day I realized that he is very correct. I feel comfortable here and enjoy living here so much. I know that it’s harder and there is no rhyme or reason to how things are done at times, but I feel that there is meaning and more joy in my life here. I know that I will always be the yovo so I will never be completely accepted but that is ok. I have also begun to wonder what America will look like to me this summer when I visit. I’m starting think about this visit and it feels more like I’m going on one of my adventure trips more than returning home. It’s bizarre.
My friend’s father enjoyed our walk and I did too. I came home and thought about all the things that seem normal here or some of the bigger differences that we talked about and thought I should share them with you too. I think I’ll just make a list with a little commentary rather than making a post for each.

We saw a three year old walking with his brothers and sisters. They were all carrying something to sell and it happened that the three year old was selling cigarettes from a bucket.

All the raw meat we passed that had been lying on tables under simple awnings all day. When someone buys the meat it is hacked off the larger piece on what we would call a tree stump, but the butcher sees it as a cutting board as he cuts the meat and bones with a machete then puts the meat in a bowl (that is not washed) and then places it on the balance scale. He will give the price and there is always the potential for bartering that will take place.

The random shops that are unmarked and you can duck inside and find all kinds of things from chicken shops to laundry soap venders or may be a bar or hardware store.

All the different kinds of leaves and twigs that women sell for all different kinds of sauces, most of which are served with acume (which I can make now….I can make it in America too so look out if I stay with you this summer).

All the bartering that takes place. I was teaching my friend’s father you don’t get ripped off as bad if you ask how much the item is and then barter and then get your money out and pay. The exception is if you know the standard price for something. If a hungry person, or dishonest person sees you have all kinds of money (not to mention they know your foreign already) they will try to get as much as they can out of you like you are a money tree that has wandered by.

When you purchase a cell phone here you purchase a SIM card from a company, there is pretty much a monopoly here in Togo, then you purchase credit from almost any store, people who walk the streets selling the cards, or other people who sell things from their homes. It is expensive to talk on the phone here and so sending an SMS or a text is my preferred form of communication. I am forever running out of credit it seems. The person who places the call has to pay, but the recipient doesn’t pay at all. Thus there is ‘flashing’. This is when you have enough credit to place a call but not enough to talk or you’re cheap, so you call the person and let it ring one or two times. The person is then supposed to call you back so you can greet them and ask for something.
In Ghana it seems that the credit really lasts quiet a bit longer. I have a SIM for Ghana also and that is how I call America. I just have to walk to the boarder of Togo and Ghana, a sketchy area in broad daylight, and sit on a rock near the busy road and hustling businesses to call. Somehow this seems ok and acceptable to me now.

Another interesting thing here is the way that people cut their toenails, men and women alike. They have their toenails trimmed very far back and in a very manicured arch. Their toenails are so small as the result in contrast to their large feet that have been free to grow and widen as they go barefoot or wear plastic flip flops daily.
There are women who walk around all day with their manicure/pedicure stuff in a large bowl, which they carry on their head of course. When someone calls to them they will cut, file, and paint (the ladies toenails) for roughly 50 cents. I used to cringe a little to think that several people every day had their nails done without these tools being washed, just a quick wipe on the woman’s skirt when she was finished. Oh and she doesn’t use toenail clippers, they use scissors. Now, I wonder if fungus has a harder time living here because of the heat or some other unknown reason as no one I’ve seen or met has had problems of this kind.

Then how can I forget to ponder the abnormally high number of children and adults who have herniated belly buttons. I wonder if it has to do with the way the belly button is cut after birth or if there is something else that causes this. I would say that it is close to 80% of children and 40% of adults here have them. No one seems to be concerned about this. I just hope that it doesn’t indicate other complications.

I have determined that Eway is a exceptionally general as in they don’t really have gender or pronouns. Then French has lots of feminine and masculine, and has pronouns but there is still a lot of generality and inference that leaves me with questions to specificity. One example was my friend, a French girl, was supposed to take this medicine from the pharmacy. She read the directions and they told her how to take it at the pharmacy but when I read the directions and warnings to her in English and explained she told me that she wasn’t told and didn’t read that she was to take it first thing in the morning and some other details. This is only one example of many. Then of course there is English. We are far too specific at times with this crazy English language. I think my brain has been warped from all the details and then the logical thinking that we have going on too. So it’s always fun to try to get details from my Togolese or French friends. Normally they give me the details I needed a day late, or better I will ask one question and they will tell me everything except the answer to my question. I don’t do so hot with that so I have been learning patience and humor in these moments.

Culturally there are many things that I could tell you about but when I first started dating my boyfriend I had a really hard time with our title. He would introduce me to his friends or family and he would call me his strong. Calling me his strong is the Eway word for wife or husband (one word for both wife and husband). I had a huge problem with that. He explained at least a hundred times that even though we were not married, in Togo when you are no longer a child and you have a girlfriend or boyfriend you just say wife or husband. I’m even called “Richard’s wife” by the children who live in his apartment building when I enter the gate or as I climb the stairs as they see me going to visit Richard. Again I look at how I’ve changed because I now have no problem with this and I’ve even been caught calling him my husband at times. Please don’t worry, I’m not married, or living with him.

Smuggling

As we returned from Accra, the second time, we were at the trotro station and all the drivers were trying to convince us that we should get in their trotro. I was looking for the trotro with the most passengers as they are just vans and when the van fills then the trotro leaves. We were looking at the drivers and the trotros when our driver from our last trip saw us and we felt that he was an overall safe driver and we had a nice journey last time so we got in his trotro and took our seats in the front with him like last time, but then we realized that we were two of three passengers. I knew it would be a long wait and it was so I began checking out the wares that people were carrying for sale on their heads. I even spotted some beer and joked that the beer would for sure make the wait more interesting. We opted for Sprite instead. We looked at all kinds of things that people wanted us to buy and I called a few friends in America, as it’s much easier to call in Ghana. Then after a few hours I had to pee so I asked the driver where I should go. He took my hand and led me down an alley, then ducked into a building and we twisted and turned down a few more dark passageways and then he greeted a woman and pointed for me to use a stall marked women. I gladly did and was thankful I carried my own TP as there was only old newspaper available in the stall, mind you this was upscale for Africa and I was grateful. Another half an hour later we pulled out destine for Lome. It was about 7:30pm by then and I was very leery that we would make it to Togo before the boarder closed. I wanted to know where we would sleep but the driver and my friend both said that I shouldn’t worry. I sat and easily did the math in my head and a four hour ride and the boarder closing at 10:00 just equaled bad news but I went with it.

The driver clearly wanted to make time so he maneuvered through Accra traffic (think LA rush hour only Africa style). We even veered off the road at one point and drove way over on the shoulder to bypass many many cars. After we made it out of the city I curled up and began sleeping. I know that both my friend and I were out cold when I heard it and then smelt it, a flat tire. I have only had two in 15 years of driving but you never forget it. He slowed down and pulled over and we all had to unload. I think every woman ran out to relieve themselves while the men just stood where they were and were not shy at all, another very Africa thing. The driver did an amazing job changing the tire and we were back on the road in about 10 minutes. I didn’t sleep so well after that in spite of being incredibly tired. The road was just too bumpy and the lady behind me wouldn’t let me lean my head back without pushing on me or pulling my hair.

When we were near the boarder the driver called someone and everyone began talking in Eway. My friend basically told me that the boarder was closed but the driver knew someone who would take us through so we would get home and I shouldn’t worry. Oh and I should mention it began raining fairly hard.

When we got out of the trotro we were led through some grass and down a passage between some houses. We all stopped under a tin roof that was the overhang of someone’s house. We then had to pay the two men so they could bribe the night boarder guards. No one mentioned that this was very dangerous and I was a HUGE liability because I was white. No one mentioned that I should hide my skin and stand behind other people. I was only told to stay close so I did but with no warnings I was basically oblivious. Then as they were telling me to duck through the hole in the fence, that someone had cut for such occasions, I was told to go and stand in a doorway out of sight. Another woman handed me a panya (large piece of cloth that women wrap themselves in). I put it on my head and hid under it but I still had my shines and ankles hanging out. If someone had told me I could have put my own panya on also and I would have blended a bit more. After everyone had passed under they all gathered around me and we walked toward the guards. I couldn’t see so well but I know that everyone all of a sudden wasn’t there, only my friend and the men we paid and I was in the beam of a flashlight being yelled at to stop and come to the group of boarder guards huddled under a tin roof shelter.
I reminded my friend to tell them that I was sick and we left this morning to go see the doctor and then when we were returning the trotro broke down. He told me that I should not talk but he explained in Eway. They asked to see my passport and we showed them and I pointed to my Ghana and Togo visas. I was completely legal, just crossing at an illegal time of day. I coughed and shivered and acted weak so they might let us go. Then they yelled at my friend and the leader basically said that my friend was to pass and leave me with the guards because white people have been causing problems overseas for other countries and he was holding me. After more discussion and my friend refusing to leave me he wanted money and wouldn’t accept the few Cedis (Ghana currency) that my friend had. I gave 1000 CEFA (Togo currency) and another guard said to the leader that he should just take it because I really did look sick. I got the feeling they started to think they didn’t want to hold me after all. We thanked them and walked fast most of the way home. The boarder is a 15 minute walk from my house. My friend laughed and told me I did a good job playing sick because the guards believed me.

I will never know how people who are smuggled into other countries feel but I know that this little adventure was only a drop in the bucket of what they must experience. This was more than I bargained for when I left to go to the doctor for sure. My friend and I have agreed that next time we will just stay the night as I would have gladly stayed in a hotel. Then again this is an experience I will never forget.

Health Update

April has brought more serious illness into my life. I’m still not sure what it was and if it is gone for sure but I can tell you I have lived through the worst stomach pain ever. At first my friends and I thought it was bad food. When that didn’t pass then we thought it was worms. Then when the medicine didn’t work and I was only getting worse I went to the stomach/obgyn doctor. The man listened to me and my friend as we told him about how I was sick and what the symptoms were. The doctor pushed on my stomach and was sure that it was amebas that were hurting me. He ordered blood work and wanted me to begin the medication immediately. He also, bless his heart, prescribed pain medication for my stomach.

At the lab the secretary, who was not so nice in January when I was there, decided that she would draw my blood personally. She used, I kid you not, an extra large needle. Then she pushed so hard to “stop the bleeding” that she bruised me. I have never had a bruise like this before and I swear I was not being a big baby about it. After taking the medicine I began feeling some relief and the running stomach was not so fierce and I began eating a little more and that was nice too.

The next day the lab results showed that I didn’t have amebas, but I had numerous fungi in my blood. It also showed that the sediment rate of my blood was very high. When I returned to the doctor he basically told me I didn’t have amebas, but the fungi could also mean I had an ulcer. He wanted me to start taking fungi and ulcer medicine immediately and then go and get an orthroscopic camera exam and more blood work.

I first cried to think that I might be very sick and living in a near third world country. This didn’t help my friend as he hates it when I cry. Later when I got it together we talked and talked and decided that I would wait the five days and go to Accra, Ghana to see a doctor during my vacation. The doctors are better there and we would find answers. I didn’t buy any of the medicine as the fungi medicine is not available in Lome and the ulcer medicine is mega powerful and highly expensive.

As the days passed I was very careful about what I prepared and how I washed my produce. I also began taking 1 Tbsp of vinegar each day. I continued to feel better each day and by the time I left for Ghana I was pain and symptom free. This made it hard to go to the doctor in Ghana, but I did. The clinic I went to was good and they are still in the process of testing me and waiting for the results before they make any conclusions. The doctor did say that she doesn’t think that I have a fungus infection in my stomach as old people and babies get those. We will see what she says when I return to her office for further consultation.

At the clinic it is a little different, even though Ghana is much more developed than Togo. I had to register, stand in line to pay the cashier, wait but shift chairs as the line moved to see the doctor. Then after she ordered the lab work I had to find the lab but then they sent me back to the cashier and then I could go to another area and pick up my own specimen collection tubes and carry them to the designated rooms, but one room had me return to the cashier to pay for an extra specimen collection fee or something. Then after all specimens were collected I carried them back to the lab and waited in line (there were triplet girls in front of me) and then they recorded the time of drop off and told me to return in three days.

We returned to Togo for the weekend and then journeyed back to the hospital on the third day. I checked in and everyone remembered me (it’s not that hard since I was pretty much the only white person in sight and not to mention they all knew I was from Togo). Then I went to the lab and waited in line for my results, which were stapled shut and I was told to give them to the doctor. I then waited in the chair line and moved from chair to chair as the people in front of me were seen by the doctor. Then doctor informed me that there was no indication of fungus in my system but I did have a UTI. She gave me a prescription and asked me to come back in a week or so to test and make sure it was gone for sure.

We went to the pharmacy and bought my meds and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I was scared that there was something seriously wrong with me. I’m still not exactly sure why I was so sick but I am guessing that I must have had worms or ameba but since I took both medications it all just worked its way through and I’m ok now. Or maybe it was a virus and it ran it’s course too. I’m thankful that I’m better now and so are my friends.

Elizabeth

When I was sick at the end of January I was talking with David, a friend/parent who lives down the street. He and his wife had two house girls and he suggested that I took one to help with cleaning since I’ve been sick and it would help them and help the girl. I thought it over and decided that especially since I’d been sick this was necessary. I talked to the girl and she wanted 10,000 CEFA a month (roughly $22 USD) and she didn’t want to come only one day a week she wanted to come one afternoon and then Saturday all day or until she finished. I agreed and she began a few days later.

Elizabeth is a kind person. I think she is about my age and she has a full-time job at a boutique but needs extra money for her 12 year old daughter who lives with the girl’s grandmother. I like having Elizabeth around and my house looks great too, so it is the win win situation.

A few weeks after Elizabeth started she came to me and explained that she needed to leave her house and so she couldn’t come to work for the week as she needed to look for a new place to live. I thought about it and asked my director as she rents the house for me and reminds me all the time how it is her house. My director said that it would be ok if my house girl lived with me in my three bedroom house, but she didn’t want her to sleep on the bed in the room as my house girl might make the bed smell like a Togolese person and the bed was bought for teachers to sleep in. I just stared with my jaw hanging off my face in disbelief. I truly heard such overt racist speech pouring forth in 2010. My heart ached and my stomach lurched. I was uneasy with having a house girl at the price that I pay but this was beyond. So I talked to my director a little more and then she backed off from telling me to have Elizabeth sleep on a mat on the cement floor next to the bed to sleeping on the bed if she used her own sheets and she didn’t make the bed smell. Mind you the “bed” is a four inch piece of foam that has been used for at least three years by various teachers who have lived in the house with their Togolese boyfriends. Needless to say the bed isn’t much better than sleeping on the floor but it’s the principle of the matter for me. This year my director added a rule; no Togolese people living in the house, and has stated it clearly over and over as if I was going to shack up with someone.
After gaining the thumb up from my director I told Elizabeth that she could live in the house with me and she jumped up and down hugging me in the middle of the street. She moved in a little at a time after dark over the course of a week. She told me that she did it this way because people would see her moving and would cause more problems for her if they felt she was going somewhere nice. Please know that first my house is about two blocks from her old house, and second it isn’t that much of anything to look at for people to be jealous over. This another example of something that we never think of in Western culture, but here this is true. Togolese people are wonderful but there are some who get jealous or find joy in stirring up problems for other people. Then some of these people go the extra mile and practice Vodoo, which everyone seems to speculate is behind anything unpleasant.
Since Elizabeth has been living here she wakes up at 5:30 each morning and does something; dishes, cleans the bathroom and shower, sweeps, mops, washes my clothes, or dusts. I feel kind of bad but she is thrilled that she gets paid and she has a free place to live. I’ve been scolded a few times for doing dishes or working in the yard, but I tell her I need to participate in maintaining the house too. My director has been OK too as I think she realizes the house will be in very clean condition when I leave rather than mediocre. She has even said that if Elizabeth (she calls her my girl) is as good as I say she might have a job for her. I told Elizabeth this but she is happy with her full-time job and cleaning on the side. Besides, who wants to willingly work for a racist person if you can help it!!! I hope I don’t get too used to having Elizabeth because I feel like she spoils me.

The Moto Ride of All Moto Rides

I thought I was just riding home from buying dog food at the market but I should know better by now. Things here take much more time and effort than what they should. This was indeed the case like every other day.

I set out to go to the bank, walk through Grande Marchette, go to the western market to buy dog food, and then take a taxi home. I got most of that done with not one hitch until the taxi part. The taxi, like all taxis in Lome, inflated the price beyond reason and then some because I was with my other white friend and because we are yovos we are rich so he must take our great riches. So we negotiate and I still pay a little too much but oh well and we set out for home. Then unannounced to us there was another demonstration/march about the election that was held the first week of March. The opposition side is very unhappy that the president won the votes in the north (villages mostly) and lost in the south (capital city and suburbs and some villages) and still managed to get the majority of the votes. They have been marching off and on but this protest was massive. They marched down one of the major roads of the city. So the taxi looked at the protestors and realized that we were completely cut off from the side of town that was our destination. I realized there was the angry mob, but figured we could get by some how so I proceeded to munch the western cookies we treated ourselves to at the market. Then I saw the police trucks roll up and this serge of anger grew. I knew that these protestors liked to throw rocks at the police and so I knew we had to go please and thank you. The taxi maneuvered the tight traffic and got the taxi turned around and headed in the opposite direction then pulled over. He began demanding that we get out and that we pay him. My friend said no and then told me to sit in the taxi while he got the dog food out. I did and then I got out too. Honestly the taxi hadn’t taken us more than six blocks or so and to demand his fair for several miles wasn’t good and isn’t protocol here.

So we were left on the side of the road not 100 yards from where the protestors and the police and the traffic jam was. We managed to get two motos and they were confident they could get us home. We began with driving against traffic then turned up the muddy street. Oh did I mention we had torrential rain that morning for about an hour. As we dodged puddles the size of small lakes, cars, and pedestrians then zigzagging down this street and the next to find a way around the protestors that seemed to be stretched out for miles. We even went through a few very large puddles, but I will say that my driver didn’t get me wet or dirty at all. This man had skill. He also had a large mouth as he was yelling and commenting to everyone around him. I chuckled as I clung fiercely to the moto. People laughed at my face and how my eyes were the size of saucers.

I made it home first and we were good. I was glad to be done with that adventure.

A few days after this protest I found out that 2 policemen were killed and one wounded. These demonstrations are serious and I’m thankful that we managed to maneuver around it. The Togolese Independence Day is happening soon and the president will be instated as the president for the next four or five years. I know that the opposition is rallying again today and the opposition leader has come to give a speech on the beach and the masses have been out for that, well until the rain rolled in. I hope that there is peace today and this next week. I will stay home as much as possible.

Dinner Party Entertainment

For the election it was safest that I stay in the house and out of sight as much as possible. My friends felt that since I stayed home and didn’t travel to Ghana or anywhere then I should stay at home for many many painstaking days. The only silver lining was that some of my Togolese friends stopped by to check on me, others called, and I kept busy so time didn’t drag on. Some of the highlights from my five days of house arrest were; watch movies, trim the overgrown poky bushes, school work, painting Roxy’s toenails sparkling pink, and planning and pulling off the best dinner party that I’ve ever had.

I invited my friends who were around still, most were Togolese. Then I planned to make beef shish kabobs, which they call brochettes here, with salad, rice, and Jello for desert. Now please keep in mind that a dinner like this is TONS easier in America, but my friends are worth it and plus I had plenty of time to kill. The morning before the election seclusion I went to the boarder market and bought beef that was freshly killed. Now I bought meat from the man with the cleanest of the dirty fly ridden butcher stands. I was grateful that he cut my meat from the pieces that were under all the pieces that the flies were infesting. The rest of the prep took place in my kitchen that is 20 times hotter than it is outside in the sun so that wasn’t the funfest of my day only a part of the journey. I planned to cook the brochettes on the fire like bar-b-que that the Togolese cook all their food on, so I borrowed one from a friend. This little thing is maybe an eight inch square and I had to be creative and make a rack for the brochettes, that were put together on six inch sticks that were whittled haphazardly. I bought 20 of these sticks or skewers as I like to think of them for less than 25 cents. Oh and have I mentioned there is no charcoal lighter fluid here. The charcoal is just chard tree branches that you have to light and fan until they are nice and red. Most Togolese cook on the open flame with their pot right in the coals and they like the flame rather than the coals. Oh on a side note the irons that the tailors and people use on their clothes are also coal powered. So before my friends came I began huddling over this little fire in the yard with Roxy observing and ready to help, so I tied her runner. I fanned my little fire with a leaf from my tree and sat and cooked for a good 45 minutes or possibly an hour. When my first two friend came they sat in the yard, in the dark and kept me company. They even snapped a few photos that capture this scene pretty darn well. I hope I can share with you below.

When my friend arrived, on Africa time 45 minutes late, we all greeted each other and they came in and made themselves at home. I told them to go eat but they just sat there. My guardian/little brother told me ‘No no no Nina. This be Africa. You must go get food for them.”
I almost crapped my pants. I had not just spent all day preparing and cooking for these people and then they come late and expect me to serve them! Buy that time we were all out in the yard again as I was checking on the last of the shish kabobs. I looked at them with all the love in my heart and pointed in a big arch that covered my yard and house and said “Oh no my friends, I just cooked all this great food for you and will not plate your food for you. You have come to America tonight and if I say go eat, you better get some food before it is all gone. Now please go eat.” They looked at me and then each other in shock and then smiled and went and got their food that was laid out buffet style. I was happy to see they enjoyed their food so much. One guy looked at me and then to the others and in Eway said that he didn’t realize that I could cook this well. They all laughed and translated to me. We all laughed more and I told them that I am a very talented person, of course I can cook well. My girlfriends didn’t show up so it was me, my Australian neighbor friend/parent of a student, my guardian/little brother, and three other friends. It was ok as we all enjoyed each other, the food, the music, and after the food was finished I showed them pictures that I’ve taken in the last few weeks. Most everyone was in a few pictures so they loved that. I also showed the Valentine’s video I took of one of them singing in Eway. We all had a great time. Some people left after that and the rest of us had a dance party.

I think this evening was so much fun and I loved it so much. All of them thanked me but as I’ve seen them over the remaining days of my house arrest they have made sure to tell me over and over how much they liked coming over and eating the food I made. Even in the midst of the election and the hard times that follow I think there is still room to enjoy the people around you and smile a little bit.

I Know Everything

The day after the famous dinner party at my house I was eating Jello with Theirry. He came by to listen to my radio and check on me when I found out he’d never eaten Jello before. I went and got the bowl from the fridge and when I made the bowl wiggle he giggled and backed away like a little kid. He liked it when he tried it but I made sure to show him how you can wiggle it on a spoon and in between your fingers too. This made him laugh more and more and then he would tell me to stop stop as he got up or leaned away from the bowl. This made me laugh too. The best part was when he paused and said “Oh Nina, you know everything in the world.” I thanked him but asked why he said that. He replied “Because you make the Jello.” Then I laughed so much! So my friends if you can make Jello then you know everything in the world. He then made me promise when he takes me to his village that he will make the Jello for his mother and father. I told him that I would, no problem.

This was one of those special moments that I have every so often here. I love sharing and laughing with my friends.

Election Day

For safety I stayed home on Election Day. It’s very hard to stay home all day when you have to. I woke up at my usual 6:30am time and fed the dog and had coffee with my guardian when he was done cleaning the yard. We talked about the election a little and how he would go vote at 7:30 and then return to spend the day with me and make sure I was kept safe. I hired him about five weeks ago so that he would be around before the campaigning, during the campaigning, for the election and then after the election. He’s been like a little brother to me since I got here, but these last few weeks of him sleeping in my yard and running errands for me and just being around a lot more in general makes me wonder how empty my mornings and evenings will be without him. His time will be over mostly because he is a footballer and needs to return to his team in Ghana for their season.
This morning before he left I gave him my camera and asked him if he would take some pictures so I could see what voting was like in Togo. He took a few pictures but then got worried the policemen would not like him doing that. The pictures are great and I’m grateful for them.

My day has created a antsy feeling but there isn’t much I can do now is there. I’m just waiting this one out with the BBC Africa reporting on Climate Change.

Full Moon

When we talk about the full moon we refer to the ocean’s tide, Werewolves and crazy behavior of the children at school. Well, I think I have been seriously affected by the full moon. I mean this in all seriousness because yesterday I had the worst day and I can’t believe some of the stuff that actually happened to me and how I behaved in response. I’m glad it’s in the past. Part of me thought that I should just skip writing about this but then I thought that the reason I have this blog is to share the good, the bad, and the ugly this year. This is the ugly.

I began the day with a trip to the bank. This was a simple check cashing excursion but the bank loves to run me around. I asked at one part of the bank and was told to go to the other area to cash the check. Then after I waited in line for 15 minutes the lady tells me to go to the other part of the bank where I just was. Mind you she is not nice and is telling me this in French. I then explain in English that the other part of the bank sent me to her and last time I cashed my check it was at this area. She understands and responds in French. Later, I found this comical. Then the woman behind me sticks her ideas in and tries to take me passport and check to look at them. I grab them back and she and the teller begin a very typical loud exchange in Eway about what a horrible yovo I am because I won’t let this lady just take my pay check and passport for her personal examination. I could see other people ahead of me cashing checks and in the line next to me so I know that this is just giving me the run around, so I hold my ground and stand there. The teller then gives in and takes my passport and check back and proceeds to send my papers for approval, this is more than likely just to make me wait more and save face. She tells me to go sit down as she points far away from her. This is another typical thing that I’ve experienced. When I have actually gone and obeyed politely I am always forgotten for an hour or more so I refuse. I am just pushed aside and she helps the people behind me. This is no problem as other people wait next to the teller window all the time and no one seems to care about privacy in any area of their lives here. It’s amazing how I feel that I’ve been impressed by the culture here. I waited for about 20 more minutes and then I had my passport and cash in hand and I was out of there. This was a record, 35 minutes to cash my check, normally it’s at least an hour an a half.


I dropped off my money at my house and met my friend/guardian because we were off to go shopping at the market. We both were looking forward to this as it was my first day of my five days off for the election, not to mention it was the big market day for the week. We had to take a moto then catch a taxi. The taxi driver was yelling at us before we even got into the taxi and I wish I had just waved him on. We told him the destination and negotiated the price, which was way too high but he wouldn’t budge and my friend didn’t want to wait for another taxi, so we were off with the usual picking up and dropping of other passengers. Then we passed the road to turn to and I said no we needed to turn. I was brushed off and he kept going. Again this should have been a red flag. The police stopped him at a checkpoint to make sure he had insurance and then we continued. He demanded his fare as he was driving and he gave us change. Mind you he already ripped me off with the fare and I was not pleased that he was making us pay the fare and a half because I was white. Then he pulled over and told us we were at the market. It was not the market I was going to. The driver basically told us too bad and get out. He would take us for more money. I refused to get out of the taxi. He then continued to get mad and yell that we had to leave the taxi or he would lock us in the taxi. We explained he can’t just take us to the wrong place and then leave us or make us pay more to take us where we asked to go. He didn’t care. He rolled up the windows of the taxi and locked the doors with us inside. I sat there. I told him through the closed window for the second time to either take us to the market I asked to go to or give me back the portion of the fare he overcharged me. He refused. I waited. He got antsy because he was losing time and customers. He then tried to physically pull me out of the taxi and then my friend as he yelled at us. I told him not to touch me and repeated what he needed to do to make this right. He refused. I was tired and so I reached up and just took my coins back from his tray and tried to get out of the taxi. The taxi man didn’t like this so he shoved me back in the taxi and grabbed me and my purse. He was shaking me and yelling and I told him to let go and he refused and pulled harder. So I bit him on the hand. I didn’t break skin but I left a small mark. He let go and yelled again. He got out of taxi and refused to let us out again and he began driving us. I asked my friend where we were going. I wasn’t worried and I was happy that we were moving. Well, the taxi man took us to the police station. I got out and said that this was ridiculous and began walking toward the road. The taxi man then grabbed me again and pulled and pushed on me while he was yelling. I told him to stop, he didn’t, I pushed him back. He didn’t like that and yelled more. I realized that we were getting a crowed and the men who gathered were concerned more for me than this man. He reached around my friend as we were walking into the police station and pushed and jabbed at my back again so I turned and hit him on the side of the head because no man will ever manhandle me and not get something back. I had had it with this crazy man. The taxi man pointed his finger in my face and told me to be careful in French. I pointed my finger in his face and made and angry face while I yelled the same thing back at him. He got the idea and stopped touching me after that. There was no need to act like he acted and I will never be a docile woman. I know that Togolese women never put up with crap like this and I won’t either.

When we got into the police station I calmly and politely said I needed to speak with an officer who spoke English because we had a problem with this taxi driver. We were taken back to an office. I walked in, greeted and introduced myself to the police officer at the desk. Mind you there was another man who he was helping but the man didn’t seem to mind that he was bummed out of turn as he got to sit and listen and participate in our drama. No one in Togo ever just sits and listens, they join right in with their opinion and ideas readily even if they haven’t heard any of the story.
I was asked to sit down and I relayed my story and posed the question how can a man be allowed to treat any woman like this in Togo? Then the taxi driver told his story very dramatically with much hand gesturing and yelling and pointing. My favorite part was how he played up how I hurt him so badly when I bit him. I had to stifle my laugh because he wasn’t so big and tough in this office. The officer asked my friend about the stories and they talked for awhile. I was asked what my name was and so I felt like making a statement so I whipped out my passport and kindly told him my name. the officer held my passport and examined it and copied down my information. I never carry my passport but because I had been to the bank I forgot to take it out of my bag. Theirry, my friend, and I agree that it was this that saved us more problems as Theirry doesn’t have an official ID, but they took his word for his information on account he was with me and I had my US passport. The taxi man was sent out for his papers and Theirry began speaking to the officer again, telling him how rough the man got with me and even demonstrated pulling and grabbing at me. I then added to the demonstration how I bit him. The officer almost fell out of his chair but was smiling. Theirry and I kind of laughed too.
All of the men conversed in Eway for a while and the decision to send us to the hospital was made. I politely questioned this and explained I might have been bruised but I didn’t need to visit the hospital. I felt the taxi man didn’t need anything but Ibuprofen and some ice but Theirry told me to be quite. Then the officer told us that it was Theirry’s fault because there were two markets with the same name and he should have cleared that up. Togolese will always blame the easiest person rather than the correct person. Theirry also had to give the taxi man the money that I’d taken out of the tray. I was told by the officer that I should never touch a taxi driver’s money tray ever again. He also added that biting was dangerous as he gave me a sly smile. The officer said he would call me later if he needed anything. I thanked him and Theirry had me thank him a few more times. Then we left. As we walked out of the front of the police station I noticed that the holding jail cell was more of a 10 x 10 fence cube with about seven men locked inside. I thanked God that Theirry and I weren’t put in there. If we had gotten a corrupt police man I might have been locked up until I bribed my way out. We walked down the road to find a taxi, as our taxi man had gone out and dramatically told all the other taxi men how the yovo stole his money and bit him. I didn’t think that we needed to take another taxi from this place because I momentarily had a reputation.

As we walked down the road we decided that we were hungry and it was about lunch time. Before we found our restaurant Theirry was walking and held my hand (something that everyone does men and men, women and women, men and women) and he told me how today he saw that I fight back. He laughed because I’m always so nice and happy, but this man was not right in what he did but he saw I could fight back. I laughed too but I didn’t like that situation. I told him how I didn’t like it when people act like that or how I felt I needed to act either. I was just happy it was over and we were going to eat and go to the market. We stopped and ate at a roadside restaurant and I had the best Fufu that I’ve ever eaten in my life! It was so fresh and nice and melted in my mouth with all the flavors from the sauce. I’ve never finished all my Fufu because it’s so filling but I made sure I ate all of this because it was so nice. I told Thierry that we need to remember this place and then on a special day we could all come back and eat there.

We proceeded to take another shared taxi and then motos to the market. This time I made sure that I was firm with directing where I wanted to go and we got there no problem. The moto men kind of laughed that I was the one guiding them to the market and the specific entrance I wanted too. Theirry plain laughed out loud telling me that I really did know Africa.

The market was fun and I got a new dress and some toys for the kids a school. We returned home and Theirry burned the leaves in my yard. Another friend stopped by and watched a movie while I went to the vegetable stand. I came home and began cooking but was called back to the school. I returned and then this friend started asking me about things that were on my table, including the phone credit he had bought for me (with my money) the other day. When I couldn’t find it he started accusing Theirry and getting worked up. I told him to stop because it was impossible that Theirry took the credit. I wanted him to shut up so I said that Roxy probably ate it and to let it go. In my heart I knew that this friend took it because he was the only one who knew I had the credit on my table and he was pointing out that it was gone so someone else would be blamed. I also found out that he wasn’t watching the movie on my computer but rather messing around with the setting. This irritated me, especially after the morning I had. I had to explain to him how I trusted him and he lost the privilege of coming to my house and watching movies on my computer. Later, my other friend got involved and told me that he would find out who took the credit but it was my fault that the settings had been changed on my computer because I shouldn’t have let him use it. My response was that if you let someone watch movies on your T.V. and they change all the settings on your remote control it is rude and not acceptable. This is the same kind of thing. OH BOY! I also added that what is the difference blaming it on other people? I was the one who had to replace the credit no matter if we blamed someone or not.

I’ve been told over and over that you trust no one here. It’s just like what I was told in Los Angeles. The big problem I have with that is if you trust no one you miss out on possible deep relationships. Those are the best kind. Unfortunately, when you open yourself to deep relationships sometimes people rip you off in various ways. It’s ok to be hurt but to miss the opportunity is not ok with me. So I was hurt, but it’s ok because love fixes that hurt.

It was after this that I walked up the street to sit at my friend’s store and relax a little. I looked up and the full moon was smiling down on me and I laughed. I realized that I normally point out everyone else’s crazy behavior during the full moon, but I am not immune to it either. I was the one acting crazy and thank goodness it isn’t permanent!

Election Watch

Campaigning began two weeks ago. This means that there are posters plastered Hollywood promotion style on every light post, building, and cement wall. Then the opposing side comes and rips down the posters and puts up their own. There are billboards, cars with posters plastered to them (mind you these are new SUVs from America, not average Togo cars) and ads on TV too. By far the best are the parades. The current president hires dancers, marching bands, and people to parade around areas in Lome for 1000 CFA ($2.00 USD) or 2000 CFA ($4.00 USD) for the entire day. There are plenty of people in these parades. Not only is the economy horrible and people need money, but this is a really easy job. I was out and there was a car with a loudspeaker taped (scotched as we call it because of the tape brand Scotch). The man inside was recruiting people to ride in the campaign cars for the current president and it was a free ride to wherever they wanted to go. The opposition, however, can’t afford to pay people to campaign so they get two or three motos and put palm branches (their symbol) on the back of the moto like a 10 foot peacock tail. Then the riders wear yellow t-shirts and drive fast up and down the streets blowing whistles and yelling. Or there might be a group of ladies in the same yellow t-shirts walking passing out flyers with a picture of the opposition’s man on it. These ladies will sing and chat with people as they walk.

I have heard three to five parades every day for these past weeks, but they have grown in intensity and frequency as the election approaches. I haven’t actually seen the parades because it’s safer to stay indoors and not show interest in one party or another. I’m not a citizen, I can’t vote, I’m neutral when I talk too Togolese. When I speak to Westerners we all know that change would be good, but the fact that there is so much governmental money stuck in the pockets of governmental people and the president of France is very supportive of this administration (since this president is the son of the man who ran Togo for over 30 years and died in office). I know that change or revolution is necessary, but the violence, bloodshed, and damage that is coupled with this kind of change would be heart wrenching. I will say that I’m so envious of how all the Togolese take seriously that their vote counts and I have not met one person who will not vote. In America we take voting for granted and our votes are counted, whereas here there are risks of tampering with the votes.

There are interesting things that I can say about this government like the former president (this president’s father) had something like 11 to 19 wives. The government still pays for each wives’ mansion, supports her each month, her children’s schooling, and all other costs. They each had several children and they are not living simple lives either. Another fun fact is that there are around five generals and they pocket over ¼ of the nations money. An example of this type of skimming is Togo received 6 million dollars to repair roads in the past year. Half of that immediately went into the pockets of governmental people. Another half went toward lower government officials. In the end there was only around 1½ million to actually do the road repairs. Clearly, there wasn’t enough to do what was needed and most of the work was done so slowly that it is ridiculous. It has taken them over 6 months to pave the beach road that runs through Lome. Lastly, the military will vote 3 days before the election and the person who mentioned this to me basically said that this is so it will be easier to change all of their votes.

I decided after talking to many Togolese and Expats that I really didn’t need to leave Togo for the election. I would love to take a trip mind you, but if I return and there are complications with the boarders then I don’t want to be stranded and the boarder is the sticky part. I spent a few days shopping for food and whatnot and brought some work home from school. So I’m set to stay home for several days. I will stay home the day of the election and then as soon as they announce the results I need to stay inside too, because this is when problems with break out if there are going to be problems. I know that for the last 2 elections there have been major rioting and whatnot, especially in opposition areas (like where I live), but this time I think there has been a lot of work to emphasize no violence. My Togolese friends are going to stop by and check on me and three very good friends are going to come and stay with me in my empty bedrooms for a few days to make sure there are no problems at my house.

I personally feel that this, like all election periods everywhere in the world, is special and exciting time because there is potential for growth and change. I hope that whoever is elected will bring more change and opportunity for the average person. This is history being made for Togo and I’m honored to be here observing, even if I’m at home. I’m praying for peace too.

Jeans

I have decided after losing over 35lbs. I needed to buy some new pants and stop rolling and pinning my pants ever so creatively each morning. One of my friends, Sylvanus, said he would come with me. Sylvanus is a 19 year old kid who finished school in Ghana, where his family is from, and so he doesn’t do much except play basketball. I met him through my best friend here and he is a trustworthy and kind person so I don’t mind him coming around or going to the market with me. I think that his presence makes my friends feel better when I go out or to the market. None of my friends, Togolese included, like that I go places or to the market alone.
Sylvanus and I walked from one end of Grande Marchette to the other in a zigzag pattern. To be honest though we only covered the major streets. I don’t really go into the allies or side areas that often. We finally came to the jeans area. Mind you most sellers of similar items group together in an area. So I began looking at the piles of jeans at one vender and within 45 seconds I was bombarded by ten men holding jeans for me to look at. There are all the different shades and most of the jeans are either huge or too small. I just had to point and say “too small”, “too short”, “too big”, “I no like”. I did come prepared…I wore a skirt with leggings so I could just lift up my skirt and try on the pants right there on the street. I found a few pairs I tried on and then I found THE PAIR I wanted. I tried them on with about 14 men gathered around watching and holding more jeans for me. When I had them on they all told me how nice they looked on me. Sylvanus made sure to ask me, like he was my dad, ‘Are you sure they fit and they are not too tight?’ I assured him that they fit just right. Not only did they fit but the brand was Super Star. I knew these pants were made for me.
I asked how much they were. The man told me that they were 7000 CFA ($14.00 USD). I realize that in America this might be ok, but in Togo only crazy rich yovos pay this price and I we all know I’m making so little I should have my head examined. The average pair of used jeans is 2000 CFA ($4.00 UDS). I paid this for my first pair of jeans when I first got here and Togolese respect that I wasn’t ripped off at the market. So I began bartering with the man. I got him down to 4000 and I began walking away. I talked to another man about some jeans when another man came up to me holding the Super Star jeans. He was not nice and he told me that the jeans were 7000 CFA and he worked hard all day out in the sun all day and I was white and had lots of money so I should just give him the money for the jeans. This man rubbed me the wrong way with his stereotype of white people. I looked at him and I could feel myself boiling inside. I told him he didn’t know me. I live here too and he could forget the jeans because he wasn’t a nice person and there was no way I’d buy from him. I turned and walked away.

This is something that I’ve encountered quite a bit lately. I don’t know why after six months I’m feeling it more. I have this suspicion that it’s because I know that I will never fully be accepted or fit in to this place, no matter how great my friends are or how long I’m here. It’s a sad thought because I really love it here and can see myself being here for quite some time. If I stay I need to just accept this aspect of culture. In America we have close-minded people who judge people too. I normally observe it rather than experience it firsthand and it sucks my friends.

photos

Valentine's Day

My friend, who I call my small brother, invited me to his Valentine’s Day lunch with his Togolese friends. He prepared La Pot and soup/sauce. I have fed Theiry many many times over the past few months. He is this young guy about 20 years old, I would guess, who is from a village and he speaks English (small small). Theiry is also a soccer player and plays in Ghana on a team and here in Togo in the off season. I think he plays almost every day. He always has a smile on his face and he has a big heart. It is always fun to be around him. As a side note he checked on me almost every day when I was so sick for January and part of February. He has been a really nice friend to have around.

I brought Fanta to his lunch and he loved it. In Togo you never bring anything when you go to someone’s house. The host is expected to feed you and offer you drinks and anything else they have or even go and buy for you. Holidays can be killer for poor people.

At the beginning of lunch they asked me to pray. I was honored and so it was clearly a special day more than just being the day of love. Most of the people at the table hadn’t spoken to a white person, let alone ate La Pot with one. There were many comments and lots of laughing at the beginning of the meal. Seven of us sat around the smallest table dipping our fingers into the acumay and then into the sauce and then into our mouths. I know that this is a major violation of cleanliness codes in America, but talk about living in community. I loved every moment of it! I will confess that the acumay was especially hot this afternoon and burned my finger tips to the point of barely being able to touch the food without saying “ooo hot hot hot” and laughing. Theiry, my small brother, was so kind to make small balls of acumay and set them on the side of the dish for me to have so they wouldn’t be as hot. This is after he had blown on his own hands and licked his own fingers. I was grateful and ate well because of his thoughtfulness. We had a great time. After the dishes had been scraped clean and refilled again I was presented with some of the large chunks of the dried fish. Again the thoughtfulness was so sweet and I ate up. Throughout the entire meal I was happy we all prayed before we ate. I know this is the reason I don’t get sick when I eat with my Togolese friends.

After the meal was over Thiery and his friends began singing and clapping and it was beautiful. Talk about rejoicing after eating a good meal and being with friends. It was hysterical when he put my name into an Eway song and everyone joined in. Apparently it was a borderline love song but basically he sang Nina is the girl I will always remember. I not only took pictures but I have a few videos of them singing. I later showed him and told him that he has his own music video like on T.V. He loved it.

By far this was the best Valentine’s Day I have ever had.

Men with Cleavers

I went to buy Roxy bones at Grande Marche and as always it was interesting. It’s amazing how I feel like I understand the main parts of this chaotic mass of people, food, trash, and of course all the things that people are selling. The butchers tend to be in one area and then there is the indoor butcher building. I know in my heart that they kill animals in that building and I could accidently see this if I venture in too far so I am always careful to not venture too far before I buy the beef bones my beautiful doggie loves.

I walked into the butcher building and I started looking for bones that were exposed from the pinkest meat as I could. I stopped and began to buy from one man. We discussed which bones I wanted, the price per kilo, and I watch as he weighed them for me. After we made it this far I then had to explain how I wanted him to cut the bones. Most people want them hacked to smithereens to make sauce/soup. I need large pieces for Roxy to chew on. Once he understood he started hacking at the bones with the enormous, razor sharp machete. This part always makes me ill so I have to walk away. One time I tried to stay and I had chips of bone flying at me and adhering to my skin and hair with cow plasma. I decided that day that I am not to girlie to walk away and return when the hacking sounds ceases. The mistake that I made this day though was I stood in front of another butcher’s table. So I ended up buying one really nice bone from him too. I figured that I wouldn’t have to return to the bone market for weeks at this rate. So all appeared good until this butcher behind me started yelling “yo-vo va” (white person come). I ignored him, he got louder, the other butchers laughed. I turned finally turned and told him I wasn’t interested. He continued to call yo-vo to me. I was getting ready to leave and I finally just turned and said “No yo-vo me.” He laughed and repeated this to me. I continued “No yo-vo, Nina” as I pointed to myself. He repeated my name. I repeated this again to make sure he got it. He did and he echoed me again. I did it a third time because we were all smiling and laughing at this point and I’m way too much a teacher for my own good. This third time ALL the butchers who had been watching me joined in. Oh yes, only in my life would I spend time teaching butchers in Lome my name and having all these men with gargantuan meat cleavers enjoying echoing my name and laugh at me when I said “no yo-vo me”.

It’s good to know that life is never dull and simple fun can always be had.

Hotel Palm Beach

Last weekend I celebrated my first full week of good health in about two months with a trip to the pool. I knew one of my students, along with his mom and friends, would be there and I took a Togolese friend who wanted to learn to swim. The day before we had had the storm of all storms by Lome standards and so the dust from Hermiton was washed from the air so the sun was stronger than it has been in months. I applied sunscreen, don’t worry!

When we arrived I was shocked at all the white people who were there! I haven’t seen more than 10-20 white people in one place in six months now so seeing almost 50 of them at the pool was a little shocking. As we waited to pay there was a man at the bar chatting with me in English and he was holding a few American dollar bills! Real USD! I told him “Wow, you have US currency! I haven’t seen American currency in almost six months.” I held back asking if I could touch it and look at it up close. Oh the things that I have begun to forget or lose touch of after living here. I soon found out that The Mercy ship had come in and will be docked for about six months at the port. They are a Christian organization that travels to countries and provides medical care to the people. Apparently there are hundreds of people on the ship so I was easily mistaken for one of the Mercy Ship people all afternoon, even though I was hanging out with the few Togolese who were at the pool rather than standing in American circles in the water.

One of the things I loved watching was the interactions between the Americans, which is different than the social expectations here. Another thing that I loved was how my student, who is Lebanese and Liberian, was asked all day where he was from. When he replied Lebanon, the Americans tried not to twist their face but their confused voices could only say “Oh?” followed by dead silence for at least a minute.

I would like to report that my friend who could barely put his face in the water at the beginning of the afternoon was swimming about 10 feet on his own by the end of our time at the pool. I think spending a lot of time in the kiddie pool helped and buit his confidence. I know we will be back to practice his new swimming skills.

The biggest highlight of my afternoon was the race. One of my student’s friends is an 18 year old boy who lives down the street from him. This friend’s name is Say Please. I always smile when I say his name. He is a very nice respectful boy and it’s great that he speaks English to some extent. This kid also happens to be very fit, like most Togolese men, he has extremely little body fat and rippling muscles. Say Please and a few other Togolese guys were taking turns racing across the pool and after watching two races I couldn’t help but ask if I could get in a race too. They laughed and smiled nicely at me and said yes. I know they completely misjudged me being the small, chubby, white girl a saw no threat whatsoever to their manhood. I wasn’t quite sure how well I’d do either but I knew it’d be fun and I could at least stay up with them. It’s been a long time since I swam regularly but swimming is still in my heart strong as ever! So we raced and I blew them away! I was about one full body length ahead of both the guys. I laughed and swam around smiling and cheering. The guys had these looks of complete shock and confusion on their faces but they smiled for me too. The Togolese girls in the pool came over to give me high fives when I made it back to the shallow end. My friend just smiled and gave me the amazed look that he gives me when I do something that he never thought was possible. I laughed some more. It was like I wasn’t even on the white people’s radar. My student made sure that he told all the kids at school on Monday, so my super hero teacher status was upgraded this week too.

Africa Welcomes You

From the 21st of December to the 7th of February sickness has plagued my life. First it was food poisoning/running stomach for my first week in Abidjan. Then I arrived home in Lome only to contract a sty in my right eye. So I began the month of resembling Egor rather than a woman. My eye puffed up and the infection claimed two weeks and drained me. I think I had a three day respite before the infection inside my nose began festering and within a few days made my nose swell to almost double its natural size. I WAS Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. I could not touch my nose because of the pain but if I did bump it I felt it in my forehead, sinuses, and teeth. My nose was numb with pain. Mind you this is all after I’d taken the Ibuprofen regularly.
Then the volcanoes, as I lovingly refer to them, began sprouting on the outside of my nose. Yes, these were horrific explosions of puss and green things that resembled stones. This left huge crater like sores where the volcanoes were. I was positive that I would be scared for life. The French doctor I saw was not like the other doctors who prescribe the shotgun approach to medication. This woman thought I could manage this with green clay facial mud stuff and the 5 times a day cleaning and anti-biotic cream. When I asked her what she thought it was she casually told me that it was a staph caucus infection. OK. I remember thinking “gosh I guess staph infections in Africa aren’t that serious” as she wasn’t that concerned. I had gone to see her for a few things and she thought that the other tests (from the crazy African lab I had to go to for blood work) showed that I needed meds for another problem. Meanwhile, the pain grew so I couldn’t sleep, eat, or bear the thought of people looking at me. My students would tell me “Nina, it’s coming out. Wipe your nose.” Like it was normal. I’m grateful for the forgiveness of five year olds!
After my medicine for the other problem was finished I waited a few days and just bought medication at the pharmacy. This is no problem here as prescriptions are more recommendations and you don’t need one to buy meds, not even narcotics. They helped but the infection was on the run after my constant cleaning, anti-biotic cream, and who can forget the clay masks. It truly is amazing what came out of my nose and the relief that I felt. I’ve now finished my meds. I continue to clean and treat the sores but the size of my nose is normal and I have lived pain free for six days! I can wiggle my nose, touch my nose (although there are still some dead areas), and even blow my nose with no pain.

This experience has truly made me grateful for my health and the things that you just expect to work or be there (ie. your nose). I hope that I’ll be healthy for a while now. I do have to add this one encounter. My guardian one morning, as we shared tea, said “Oh my sister, do not worry Africa welcomes you.” This comment made me laugh my way through this infection and lightened the mood when people wanted to know what my problem with my nose was. I’m also thankful for people who don’t care what I look like and just like me and wanted to care for me when I need help.

Schemes and Dreams

There are three of us who were hired from the U.S. to teach at the school this year. There is an older lady who technically was a missionary teacher here in Togo for 11 years but when the mission closed last year she returned to the States and tried to find a way back here. Then there is Gabe. Gabe is around 21 or 22, fresh out of college, grown up in a large family who has traveled and lived overseas a lot. He is connected to the family who runs the school so even though he has no experience teaching what-so-ever he teaches kids at the secondary school (middle and high school) English. Gabe reads a lot so he has a lot of one sided information at times, but his heart is good and I can mess with him sometimes like he’s my little brother and he doesn’t get bent out of shape so its cool. Oh and he has a nice ability to blend on the account that he is black, but he is very American and so it’s fun to see him interact with the Togolese too.

Gabe has decided that since there is no recycling program in this country that he would start a non-profit company that gets the public schools here in Lome to collect cans and crush them. His company will then pickup the cans, weight them, have them melted down, and ship them, sell them to be recycled. The idea is that the schools will have a list of supplies that they can order from. The more aluminum weight they have the more it is worth to get supplies for the students and the teachers in the public schools.
Gabe has begun collecting and even buying cans to kick this thing off. He is making all kinds of connections with people all over the city and it’s fun to kind of see the network build. I am also apart of the network in a few ways. I am storing the cans in my yard. Roxy thinks the cans are her new toys so she scatters them, much to Gabe’s chagrin. Then I am also helping Gabe compile the supply list or catalog. I am thinking of this like the green stamps we used to get at the grocery store when I was a kid. We would collect them and then we could order fun things when we had enough books of the green stamps.

I should mention that Gabe has hired, at my suggestion, this 18 year old kid that is like my little brother. He plays soccer for a team in Ghana but this is off season so he stays down the street with his brother and I’ve gotten to know him quite well over the months. He doesn’t have a job but he is a hard worker. He loves soccer very much and plays every day and runs on the beach almost every day. I really hope that his dream to play on a professional team comes true. So Gabe has him hauling the cans to my house and squishing them and bagging them in these bags that are big enough to fit 2 or 3 people inside. I’m glad that I got to help pick who he hired as I wouldn’t just want anyone in my yard a few times a week working.

I am really hoping that this not only works, but that Gabe can find a way to keep it going with enthusiasm after he leaves. I know that if it can just work once then it will be a huge help as the public schools here are in dire straits and I know that this will be a welcomed partnership.

Swimming and Weird Food

Yesterday my friends David and Maria (parents of one of my primary students whom I teach in the afternoons) came by and invited me to go for a swim at the beach (yes, we were going to Poop Beach but it was late enough in the day that it should be safe). I quickly applied my sunscreen, grabbed my sunglasses and we were off. I didn’t want to swim as I think the waves are a bit too much for me to swim here. I typically just stand in the waves to my upper legs and stare out across the Atlantic and think about everyone in America I know and love. I think those are the moments that I miss America most.

While we were swimming with 8 naked African boys who had brought a bucket with a lid to act as their water toy for the day, one of David’s friends decided to swim out to the fishing boats and in spite of the waves beating him he made it and climbed in a boat to rest and wave to us. Amazing! In the mean time David would swim out a bit and float in the current along the shoreline and then get out and walk back. I was playing with some little African girls who were scared of getting in the water but wanted me to take them in with me as I wasn’t swimming. So I would hold my arms out to pick them up and they would come over and inspect my whiteness and the anomaly of blond arm hair. I just laughed. None of them actually let me hold them in the water but it was fun.

When we returned to their house Maria had made Acumay (it’s a form of the La Pot I’ve written about before, think sticky very thick potatoes that you eat with your hand and dip in a soup/sauce) The soup she made was with bush rat, okra, greens of some sort, and cow intestines. I agreed to stay. I know that the food is safe at their house and Maria is always cooking something that is interesting and I love it. I know the first time I was at their house for dinner I didn’t eat the chicken feet that she had made but I ate everything else and have since.

Before we ate David asked me if I’d seen a bush rat before and asked Maria if they had one in the kitchen or if they were all cooked. Maria then came from the kitchen holding a bush rat that had been smoked on a stick and she signaled for us to be quiet and she walked up behind her son and she was right behind him as he turned and he saw it and screamed and we all laughed.

As we ate the bush rat and Acumay our fingers burned, but it’s best when its super hot and that’s how you do it. Maria and her friend commented to me that I was Togolese now and I knew how to eat it. Maria told me that she would teach me to make Acumay this way because it doesn’t have all the bad starch in it. I thought this was a great idea. Then we were picking apart the bush rat and found the led ball that it had been shot and killed with. We all laughed and gave it to her son to inspect.

After we were done we had some little fruit that had a soft furry shell and a soft, mildly sweet inside. I called them the furry fruit. Then Maria also brought out an orange unidentified fruit that is stringy like wood but you chew and suck on it and it changes flavor in your mouth. You felt like you were in Willy Wonka’s factory as you chewed and sucked all the weird flavors out before spitting the colorless woody part out.
So my friends you are missing all this by not coming to visit! Please book your tickets soon as I am only here for 5 more months.

Creepy Guy

I was walking home the other night and saw one of my student’s fathers sitting at the bar near my house and so I ended up sitting down to visit for a little while. I know this family well as they live down the street and I see them almost daily. I’ve eaten at their house several times and always have such a nice time. The father is a much older Australian and we both enjoy speaking English freely and not struggling our way through communication for basic things in French or Ewe (sounds like ev-ay). Visiting with him always reminds me of my dad’s unique friends.
Let me pause for a moment and describe what a bar is here in Togo, well all over West Africa for that matter. There is a small small cement room that could be used as a variety of boutiques or restaurants or bars. The people then add a stereo with HUGE speakers, a bar, a small refrigerator, some shelves behind the bar to stock a few bottles of alcohol, and a few beer posters tacked to the outside wall announcing the bar’s presence. Please note that you really can have your own bottle of alcohol, like in the Wild West, and pour your glass and then mark the bottle each time you’re there. You can also have your own page in the Bar Tab notebook at the bar if you know the right people. In some establishments there is also a table and a T.V. inside for the bar help. Then the classy part is how many tables and chairs they have and how dusty the street is. This bar in particular has five tables that each has four chairs. This is my street so I walk past at least four times each day so people kind of know me, including a large man named Rock who works there with his sister. One table is next to the building and four of the tables are separated from the bar by the very sandy street. I mean sandy as in even experienced moto riders fishtail all over. Oh and the four tables on the opposite side of the road are up against the tall cement wall that belongs to the Catholic Church. The street light is what illuminates this place as the blaring stereo may play anything from Bob Marley to Dolly Pardon or Elton John and Mariah Carey singing Michael Jackson cover songs. I can hear the music at my house down the street mixed with the singing from the Catholic Church and the neighbor’s chickens and ducks. There is only peace and quiet in the very wee hours of the morning and even then the surf from the ocean and the breeze come to claim their place to be heard. This is an amazing place for sounds, smells, and colors. I am always amazed that there are new things I experience yet it is comforting how familiar it becomes.
So I was visiting with my student’s father and I notice out of the corner of my eye, in the dark, that there was a man’s shape on the other side of the road and he was walking in a strange manner. Also take note that you always need to be aware of who and what is around you just to be proactive. This man paused on the bar side of the road next to the bar and was staring at me on the opposite side of the road. I felt weird but I’m white in a black country, people stare ALL the time. It wasn’t until he shuffled across the street and stopped in the road near our table that I actually turned and looked at him and what he was doing. He was standing with his pants pulled down, smiling, and playing with himself. I turned away to the dad and the dad got up and shoved the guy away. The man pulled up his pants and slithered off.
I mean this is on the top of ‘the gross, disturbing things that happen to you’ list in most places but really we acknowledged it as bizarre and then it became a joke the rest of the evening. Of course the dad insisted upon walking me home after our visit and I’m sure that this incident creeped him out too. We now refer to this strange man as “Masturbation Man”. YUCK!!!!

African Telephone

The community aspect of living here and enjoying all the joy and the absence of rushing to move ahead in life can at times have its downfalls. This past week I have experienced this. Not only does everyone get into everyone's business they put a twist on it and then they all pick sides. I guess when they tease me that I'm becoming Togolese this applies to my business and their right to be involved in it too.

This is a situation that I will freely share with many of you but I think if I'm posting this I'd like to leave the details out and just focus on the human behavior observations for now. Cultures are so different and well I am trying to decide each day if I will let this hurt consume me. I have to decide if I will share with them and possibly be hurt more or should I keep this thing that many Africans can see happening but they are just looking in and they don't know my story threads that make this tapestry life. So their view has holes and the African telephone is trying to draw me to share and fill in the holes. I know that there are a few who really love me and majority of people jsut wnat entertainment on my behalf. Thus far I've hidden (literally)from people I love and made sure that I speak to very few people. This is hard too as I'm SO verbal and solve problems much better when I speak and talk it out. I can for sure say that I'm growing here and know that I will never be the same after living here. I believe I will be better is many many ways.

Togolese people are great but there are some character traits that I will never understand. One is lying. It's done for many reasons, but its mostly done for sport or entertainment. It can be simple like a shopkeeper not wanting to get up to make change and so he says that he is out of what you want to buy. It can be the Tata at school telling me on Saturday that I can't work in my room because she doesn't have the key just to mess with me. It could be a friend telling me one thing only later to find it is a lie that I am being manipulated with. This risk of placing trust in people and loving them through it can make or break you as a person. A wise friend here has told me that I can pick to accept them and their culture or I can reject it, either way I might be hurt. I will tell you that I'm trying to accept it but my logical American brain is struggling very badly. I know my kids in L.A. would lie to me and I worked through that with them, but this is hard as these people are more my friends and I want them to be my equals, but they are not in many ways. My unfair expectations are also causing a problem I suppose.

Culture here also has double standards and depending on the city and village, or families, friends, men, and women they are expected to act and dress differently. As I transition from the yo-vo (white lady) who teaches at the school to a member of their commuunity I have had so much fun and enjoy the different perspective, but it is clear that I have certain things that I will either learn to change or that I will fight against and lose. This trial is one of those times of refining and making it clear if I'm really apart of the community or if I'm an interloper.