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.
30 January, 2010
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.
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!!!!
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!!!!
15 January, 2010
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.
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.
Dog Ownership in Africa is FUN?!...
This morning I was planning my Sunday chores of cleaning the yard, bucket washing my laundry, and hand sweeping the house when I was stalled. I was petting Roxy after I ate breakfast and I could feel these huge bumps on one of her back legs.
Now the government veterinarian, who gave Roxy all her puppy shots, told me that there are flies that live in the sand that will lay their eggs in the sand but sometimes the eggs get on dogs and then little maggots will nest under the dogs skin. He told me that I should pop the maggot out if this happened and treat he wound with Betadine. He also suggested that I pour poison on all the sand in my yard to kill the flies. I will be honest I haven’t poured the poison on the sand in the yard because I don’t think that it would be good for Roxy.
As I gave Roxy her morning rub I thought about his instructions and I worried about her so I squeezed one of the bumps like a pimple and out shot this maggot and wiggled at me as it was still kind of lodged in her leg. I picked out the worm easily and proceeded to remove 13 other maggots in the same way. Please note the pictures below are not for everyone. I put all the maggots on the coffee table as I preformed the removal and then took a picture before sending them down the toilet. I will never forget this. Then I proceeded to clean all the wounds I made and rub Neosporin into them as I didn’t have Betadine at home right now.
After that Roxy and I finished raking the leaves in the yard (ok so she jumped in the piles and ran around with leaves in her mouth taunting me), washing the laundry (she drank my bucket water leaving all kinds of sand in my wash bucket and I would splash her and play), and sweeping the house (Roxy would stand in my piles again). A very typical Sunday morning. I’m so happy I have her. I read a little and she took a nap next to my chair. It was a big morning I guess.
Now the government veterinarian, who gave Roxy all her puppy shots, told me that there are flies that live in the sand that will lay their eggs in the sand but sometimes the eggs get on dogs and then little maggots will nest under the dogs skin. He told me that I should pop the maggot out if this happened and treat he wound with Betadine. He also suggested that I pour poison on all the sand in my yard to kill the flies. I will be honest I haven’t poured the poison on the sand in the yard because I don’t think that it would be good for Roxy.
As I gave Roxy her morning rub I thought about his instructions and I worried about her so I squeezed one of the bumps like a pimple and out shot this maggot and wiggled at me as it was still kind of lodged in her leg. I picked out the worm easily and proceeded to remove 13 other maggots in the same way. Please note the pictures below are not for everyone. I put all the maggots on the coffee table as I preformed the removal and then took a picture before sending them down the toilet. I will never forget this. Then I proceeded to clean all the wounds I made and rub Neosporin into them as I didn’t have Betadine at home right now.
After that Roxy and I finished raking the leaves in the yard (ok so she jumped in the piles and ran around with leaves in her mouth taunting me), washing the laundry (she drank my bucket water leaving all kinds of sand in my wash bucket and I would splash her and play), and sweeping the house (Roxy would stand in my piles again). A very typical Sunday morning. I’m so happy I have her. I read a little and she took a nap next to my chair. It was a big morning I guess.
Home Sweet Togo!
I was so happy to return home to Lome and see my sweet little Roxy. I was so happy that I loosened her collar before I left as she grew so much in the 10 days that I was gone that I almost need to loosen it again! She is so amazing how she grows so quickly. I was disappointed that my friend who watched her didn’t reinforce her training so I have implemented doggie boot camp at home until she is able to keep all four feet on the ground, come, sit, and stay. Thank goodness I bought that leash! But don’t’ get me wrong, she is absolutely the cutest puppy and I love her so much. There is nothing that makes me giggle and laugh, even in my worst moments, like her little clipped tail trying to wag but sends her whole butt into wiggles and dances.
I’ve been home for a week now and it feels so normal to be here. All the drama has returned and I’ve forgotten that it was just last week that I was in Abidjan. The biggest thing is how one mother has removed her child from our school and blames me. In an email to the director she sights that I am the most ill-mannered, arrogant person that she has ever met and that I am too lazy to teach her child. Crazy parents even exist here. No one is really thinking much of this, except the Director is worried for the school’s reputation and what people might think and say about our school now. I told her that she has 8 other very happy parents so that is something to consider. She thinks that calling the parent and promising I will work harder is a good solution. Hmmm….I’m not sure that working harder is the key here, as I work harder than most of the other teachers and my kids are progressing very well. I think that this parent, who refused 2 or 3 conferences and would send me these demanding notes for books and more homework each night, might need to relax a little. Her kid is 5 for heaven sake. Besides, she didn’t really do the work I sent home and just wanted to order me around. We all know how well I take being ordered around by crazy people. Needless to say I’ve been smiling a lot and reverting to education speak when I communicate with her all year. At least I only have one crazy parent.
The election at the end of February is fast approaching and you can feel it in the air. This might also be because I live in the not so great area of town and it’s supposed to be the opposition stronghold. I’ve heard loudspeakers attached to cars driving down my street saying stuff about the election. My friend told me that the news has been talking a lot about the election. They call it “heating up”. Technically campaigning can’t begin until 2 weeks before the election but the organization of the parties and whatnot is taking place now. Many people have told me that nothing will change because France puts too much money ( in the pockets of the people in power) in the country. Other people think that change and revolution might happen. I know that the biggest opposition leader who was elected as a regional leader in the last election had to be in exile the last 5 years and he has returned.
Personally I worry for the people and I hope that no one is hurt or killed. I know that there is a lot of potential for harm as emotions and mobs can over take common sense. I will more than likely have to leave the country for the week of the election. I know that school will be closed for a week but if things are still “hot” we will have another week off of school. This second week will be taken from my 2 week spring break and I do not like that idea much.
Clearly, this isn’t anything like the elections in the US so if you think about it you can pray for the people and this time in Togo.
I’ve been home for a week now and it feels so normal to be here. All the drama has returned and I’ve forgotten that it was just last week that I was in Abidjan. The biggest thing is how one mother has removed her child from our school and blames me. In an email to the director she sights that I am the most ill-mannered, arrogant person that she has ever met and that I am too lazy to teach her child. Crazy parents even exist here. No one is really thinking much of this, except the Director is worried for the school’s reputation and what people might think and say about our school now. I told her that she has 8 other very happy parents so that is something to consider. She thinks that calling the parent and promising I will work harder is a good solution. Hmmm….I’m not sure that working harder is the key here, as I work harder than most of the other teachers and my kids are progressing very well. I think that this parent, who refused 2 or 3 conferences and would send me these demanding notes for books and more homework each night, might need to relax a little. Her kid is 5 for heaven sake. Besides, she didn’t really do the work I sent home and just wanted to order me around. We all know how well I take being ordered around by crazy people. Needless to say I’ve been smiling a lot and reverting to education speak when I communicate with her all year. At least I only have one crazy parent.
The election at the end of February is fast approaching and you can feel it in the air. This might also be because I live in the not so great area of town and it’s supposed to be the opposition stronghold. I’ve heard loudspeakers attached to cars driving down my street saying stuff about the election. My friend told me that the news has been talking a lot about the election. They call it “heating up”. Technically campaigning can’t begin until 2 weeks before the election but the organization of the parties and whatnot is taking place now. Many people have told me that nothing will change because France puts too much money ( in the pockets of the people in power) in the country. Other people think that change and revolution might happen. I know that the biggest opposition leader who was elected as a regional leader in the last election had to be in exile the last 5 years and he has returned.
Personally I worry for the people and I hope that no one is hurt or killed. I know that there is a lot of potential for harm as emotions and mobs can over take common sense. I will more than likely have to leave the country for the week of the election. I know that school will be closed for a week but if things are still “hot” we will have another week off of school. This second week will be taken from my 2 week spring break and I do not like that idea much.
Clearly, this isn’t anything like the elections in the US so if you think about it you can pray for the people and this time in Togo.
At The Club
While in Abidjan I met many of the family’s friends and we spent a lot of time with one couple in particular, who are their very good friends. We spent time with them at their very nice home and one night we went out with them to a club. Everyone knows that I’m not really a club person but I figured it was something I wanted to see while in Abidjan, and I’m glad that I did.
The club was set up with lots of furnished areas to sit, a dance floor, and clearly a bar. I honestly could count may be three people in the whole place smoking, that was nice. Then there was a huge mirror on one side of the dance floor and most of the girls dancing all night were glued to the mirror, like they were 12 dancing at home in their bedrooms. My friend explained that if the clubs don’t hang mirrors around the dance floor that people will not come to dance and the club will eventually close. There were ample fans and so you weren’t hot dancing or sitting. I also noticed that the men weren’t hitting on the women and the women didn’t seem like they were there to get a man. Everyone was there to have fun with their friends and that was all. It was nice. I do have to make sure I tell you about the bathroom. It was clean for African and most club standards in America too, but the one thing that cracked me up was the soap dispenser was not filled with soap, but rather there were about 20 dead bug bodies in the empty soap dispenser. Talk about contradiction.
The music in Abidjan seemed to be programmed in blocks on the radio, the TV, and in the club also. The first hour was Salsa music. I promise you I saw some of the best Salsa dancers that I’ve ever seen in my life on that dance floor. People here in West Africa LOVE Salsa music, and dancing and it’s clear that some of them practice a lot.
The next hour was Hip Hop, and the next African line dancing. Now I can electric slide with the best of them but the African version isn’t so easy. I couldn’t even follow because not everyone knew what they’re doing so I couldn’t really follow anyone around me or blend very easily. Ok, I realize blending as the only white girl in the place isn’t possible, but at least not being the sore thumb would have been nice.
At about 2am the dance floor cleared and everyone took their seats. There was going to be a show. These two men came out and sang and danced. I admired their paintball splattered shirt/jackets and their dress pants that had been altered to look like the skinny pants that are popular in the States. Then they topped off their ensemble with pointed dress shoes and 80’s sunglasses. I thoroughly enjoyed the show.
So, my official summary of the evening and wee hours of the morning would have to be it was most enjoyable and I wish more of my club experiences were more like this one.
The club was set up with lots of furnished areas to sit, a dance floor, and clearly a bar. I honestly could count may be three people in the whole place smoking, that was nice. Then there was a huge mirror on one side of the dance floor and most of the girls dancing all night were glued to the mirror, like they were 12 dancing at home in their bedrooms. My friend explained that if the clubs don’t hang mirrors around the dance floor that people will not come to dance and the club will eventually close. There were ample fans and so you weren’t hot dancing or sitting. I also noticed that the men weren’t hitting on the women and the women didn’t seem like they were there to get a man. Everyone was there to have fun with their friends and that was all. It was nice. I do have to make sure I tell you about the bathroom. It was clean for African and most club standards in America too, but the one thing that cracked me up was the soap dispenser was not filled with soap, but rather there were about 20 dead bug bodies in the empty soap dispenser. Talk about contradiction.
The music in Abidjan seemed to be programmed in blocks on the radio, the TV, and in the club also. The first hour was Salsa music. I promise you I saw some of the best Salsa dancers that I’ve ever seen in my life on that dance floor. People here in West Africa LOVE Salsa music, and dancing and it’s clear that some of them practice a lot.
The next hour was Hip Hop, and the next African line dancing. Now I can electric slide with the best of them but the African version isn’t so easy. I couldn’t even follow because not everyone knew what they’re doing so I couldn’t really follow anyone around me or blend very easily. Ok, I realize blending as the only white girl in the place isn’t possible, but at least not being the sore thumb would have been nice.
At about 2am the dance floor cleared and everyone took their seats. There was going to be a show. These two men came out and sang and danced. I admired their paintball splattered shirt/jackets and their dress pants that had been altered to look like the skinny pants that are popular in the States. Then they topped off their ensemble with pointed dress shoes and 80’s sunglasses. I thoroughly enjoyed the show.
So, my official summary of the evening and wee hours of the morning would have to be it was most enjoyable and I wish more of my club experiences were more like this one.
Traveling With Soon To Be Friends
This Christmas vacation I was invited to travel to Cote d’Ivoire (the Ivory Coast) with one of my student’s families for 10 days. I gladly accepted and got my visa.
Roxy could sense I was leaving as I packed the night before and even tried to climb into my bag at one point (like she does when I take her to the vet in my bag). She was also extra playful, distracting me from packing. I was sure my friend would take good care of her while I was gone.
The night before I left my friend took me out to find Colico. This is a fried yam with spicy sauce that I love. Think of large potato wedges with a sweet zing to them and you dip them in spicy salsa. My colico lady in my neighborhood has relocated so we went to find another lady on the roadside who makes colico. We were successful and she also had a pot of goat with a green sauce that was really taste so I got a little of that too.
*** Please note that no matter how yummy something is you probably shouldn’t eat it for the first time when you are planning to go on a road trip the next morning (especially when you live in Africa). Oh yes my friends, running stomach hit me very badly as we crossed the boarder into Ghana, traversed the bumpy roads of Ghana, and then crossed into Cote d’Ivoire. This was 13 hours of stomach gurgling fun let me tell you. I was living the commercial jingle “gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, right now!”. I had to practice mind over body control as I was traveling with a family that I didn’t know really well and we couldn’t just stop all the time because we had to cross the Cote d’Ivoire boarder before 6:30pm. I was happy that my student is just 5 years old and she needed to have a potty stop ever 2 hours or so. It is all OK now and after 2 days it has finally passed but OO LA LA not so much fun.
The car ride took about 13 hours and I got to see the scenic view of Ghana during the daylight hours. There is definitely a different feel to each African country. Ghana is clearly more developed than Togo and seems cleaner to me. The stretch of road that was right next to the ocean was breath taking. Then when we drove past Cape Coast it almost felt like a smaller town on the coast somewhere in the U.S. I for sure would like to travel back there and spend a few days.
Meanwhile, inside the car I sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Jolly Old St. Nicolas, and Jingle Bells over and over with my student. We had a Christmas program at school and for the last month or more I have been singing teaching and practicing these songs with the kids at least 3 times each school day. I thought it was all over and I wouldn’t have to sing these songs again but I guess my little girl loved them so much that we sang them over and over and over in the car too. Luckily, the sing along CD had a few other Christmas songs and so I taught her some others mixed in between the others. I hope I don’t have to sing these three unmentionable carols for a year or more.
I should also mention that the eating began in the car and I feel like I it never stopped eating for the whole trip. All the weight I’ve lost might be returning due to the family’s family and friends all wanting to feed us and serve cocktails every place we go. It’s all I can do to just have one drink to be nice and then return to water.
Oh and Abidjan is a beautiful booming city. It has grown so much in the last 5 years that it really is a big city. In some ways it reminds me of L.A. with an African twist. I’m so thankful for this opportunity to see another place, but I think that I’m ready to return to my home in Lome.
Roxy could sense I was leaving as I packed the night before and even tried to climb into my bag at one point (like she does when I take her to the vet in my bag). She was also extra playful, distracting me from packing. I was sure my friend would take good care of her while I was gone.
The night before I left my friend took me out to find Colico. This is a fried yam with spicy sauce that I love. Think of large potato wedges with a sweet zing to them and you dip them in spicy salsa. My colico lady in my neighborhood has relocated so we went to find another lady on the roadside who makes colico. We were successful and she also had a pot of goat with a green sauce that was really taste so I got a little of that too.
*** Please note that no matter how yummy something is you probably shouldn’t eat it for the first time when you are planning to go on a road trip the next morning (especially when you live in Africa). Oh yes my friends, running stomach hit me very badly as we crossed the boarder into Ghana, traversed the bumpy roads of Ghana, and then crossed into Cote d’Ivoire. This was 13 hours of stomach gurgling fun let me tell you. I was living the commercial jingle “gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, right now!”. I had to practice mind over body control as I was traveling with a family that I didn’t know really well and we couldn’t just stop all the time because we had to cross the Cote d’Ivoire boarder before 6:30pm. I was happy that my student is just 5 years old and she needed to have a potty stop ever 2 hours or so. It is all OK now and after 2 days it has finally passed but OO LA LA not so much fun.
The car ride took about 13 hours and I got to see the scenic view of Ghana during the daylight hours. There is definitely a different feel to each African country. Ghana is clearly more developed than Togo and seems cleaner to me. The stretch of road that was right next to the ocean was breath taking. Then when we drove past Cape Coast it almost felt like a smaller town on the coast somewhere in the U.S. I for sure would like to travel back there and spend a few days.
Meanwhile, inside the car I sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Jolly Old St. Nicolas, and Jingle Bells over and over with my student. We had a Christmas program at school and for the last month or more I have been singing teaching and practicing these songs with the kids at least 3 times each school day. I thought it was all over and I wouldn’t have to sing these songs again but I guess my little girl loved them so much that we sang them over and over and over in the car too. Luckily, the sing along CD had a few other Christmas songs and so I taught her some others mixed in between the others. I hope I don’t have to sing these three unmentionable carols for a year or more.
I should also mention that the eating began in the car and I feel like I it never stopped eating for the whole trip. All the weight I’ve lost might be returning due to the family’s family and friends all wanting to feed us and serve cocktails every place we go. It’s all I can do to just have one drink to be nice and then return to water.
Oh and Abidjan is a beautiful booming city. It has grown so much in the last 5 years that it really is a big city. In some ways it reminds me of L.A. with an African twist. I’m so thankful for this opportunity to see another place, but I think that I’m ready to return to my home in Lome.
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