Gender Issues

Now, just like every American is their own unique snowflake, every person’s Peace Corps experience is different. It can depend on who you are, your background, your sector, your country, your region, your village, the ethnicity you live amongst, your own ethnicity, your language level, the community’s collective education level, the possibilities are endless. Here, in Togo, there is an on going one-up-manship between the northern volunteers and the southern volunteers about who has it worst (north is hot as hell, south has abrasive culture), but we can all agree: male and female volunteers have incredibly different experiences as Peace Corps Volunteers in Togo. One male volunteer even argues that us female PCVs are a third gender. This comes from the reality that genders are not equal here and that women are objectified and seen as lower than men.

In an area of the world where gender inequality is rampant, there are many social rules that change experiences for everyone in the area. I thought I’d outline them for y’all, so you’d see how different the world is for girls and women here, and even for me, as a female PCV. I want to disclose that this is what I observe and have learned from my community, in Southern Togo, and from conversations with volunteers across the country so this may not be what other experience or observe. Also, some of what I see is not virtually true for all families in my community; my host family’s children do all domestic tasks equally and my host dad includes my host mom in all financial and familial decisions.

Togolese Girl	Togolese Boy
Wakes up around 4 am everyday to help mother with: cooking, cleaning, laundry, starting the fire, getting water for the family for the day etc. Goes to bed around 10 pm or later everyday after helping with cooking, cleaning, farm tasks (planting, harvest, drying, preparation).	Wakes up around 5 or 6 everyday to shower, does help with farm tasks (planting, harvest, field preparation). Goes to bed when tired, around 9 pm.
In charge of caring for children once they are past the beginning stages of infancy. Read: bathing, cleaning, feeding (unless still breast feeding), carrying on back. I often see babies (toddlers) carrying babies (infants)!	No child rearing responsibilities.
Girls in school is becoming more common, although there are still many who don’t attend for a myriad of reasons. During lunch break from school, prepares midday meal for everyone. After the school day is done, comes home quickly to be able to pump water for the whole family.	Going to school, often has a bike to facilitate travel to school and to fields. Plays soccer during midday break and comes home to already prepared meal. After school, plays soccer, gets tutored, and hangs out with friends.
Subject to sexual advances from teachers, older family members, older men in community starting at age 13.	Can impregnate girls and deny paternity. Can be betrothed to girls during middle school and dictate their lives. (I once heard of a boy pulling his fiancée out of math because his father said that girls shouldn’t learn math.)
Around age 15, often expected to fend for herself, often turning to prostitution or search for secure marriage. May help mother sell food in the weekly market.	Can live with family well into late 20’s, until married when wife will do the cooking, cleaning, etc for him.
Constantly berated by men (and sometimes even women) in community for being the lesser sex. Timidity is the norm and interpreted as being stupid, lazy, ungrateful.	Outspoken, expected to be ‘tough’ and strong. Participate the most in class.
Drop out rates of Togolese girls is very high. Maybe 20% complete middle school.	Those who do succeed in school are mainly boys, although most are in their 20s before they graduate high school (if they make it that far).

Togolese Woman	Togolese Man
Wake up at 4 am to start fire, delegate tasks to female children, sweep the courtyard, prepare for the day to begin. Spends day cooking, cleaning, laundry, domestic animal care (ie feeding chickens and goats), child care, farming tasks (planting, harvest, preparation, drying). Bed around 10 or 11 pm.	Wakes up around 5 or 6 to shower and eat. Goes to work, if he holds a service job, if not, hangs out at home, goes to hang out with friends. Spends a lot of time sitting and listening to the radio. Does spend a considerable amount of time doing farm work during the rainy season.
Education level is around 4th grade level, if she even went to school (majority have not).	Amongst villagers, education level varies but is as high as 8th or 9th grade. Amongst service professionals (teachers, clinicians, etc) around high school diploma or associates degree.  University educated are predominately men and they are found in larger towns and cities.
Purchase/appropriation of all goods for the household: corn, vegetables, soap, pots, firewood, water, clothes. All with baby strapped on back, or while pregnant, or both, often with a toddler at hand. Due to deforestation, firewood is normally found many kilometers away, and mothers and children walk long distances daily to meet this need.
In charge of earning money for the family by selling goods from farms or projects she has started: corn, beans, cassava, yams, pineapples, oranges, soap, candies, etc.	In charge of all money for the household. Believe that wife will steal from him, so encouragement of illiteracy amongst women is common to ‘protect’ his family and financial status. Often spends a lot of money on alcohol throughout the week.
In charge of all childcare: going to clinic when child is sick, making sure child has clothes, feeding the child, etc.	Because of the desire to maintain an image of being “strong”, will wait until extremely sick to go to clinic, therefore spending more money on treatment and risking the life of the ever powerful patriarch.
Constantly berated for being the lesser sex - laughed at, mocked, etc. Often illiterate, so unable to participate in discussions with NGOs and the like.	Respected and listened to. Any slights on character are waved off.

So what do I do with this? How to I tackle this totem pole thought, where women are below and subservient to men? How can a community develop and build when the genders aren’t equal? My heart has ached for girls and women here since I had learned a lot of unsettling information about a year ago: how men treat them, how prostitution is the norm (not even really seen as prostitution but rather “well, he gave me money, so now I have to...”) in my village, and a multitude of other things. It’s been the hardest thing to swallow… I had heard about things like this when I was in school, but it is quite another thing to live it, to know people who are subject to these horrible offspring of inequality. Back when this was all unveiled to me (about a year ago), I was so upset about it that I realized I either needed to quit Peace Corps or to take action. Obviously, I stayed and created a plan to introduce more gender equality into my village. I started with a girls camp to focus on supporting and empowering the girls of Zafi. It went alright… even if the girls thought that I was going to pay them (top down development messing with the grassroots!! Grr!). Then, I wanted to focus on the adults, which would be difficult. How could I introduce this concept to women who are illiterate? How could I find men who were open minded enough to listen? Well, I continued what the previous volunteer started: Men as Partner (MAP) trainings. The previous volunteer held a MAP training for all the chiefs and notables of the canton, which introduced the concept to the big wigs of Zafi. This time, I had a different vision. My counterparts Paul, Joseph, Yao, and I held this gender equality training for teachers, principals, health care workers, and religious leaders/representatives over the course of 4 Saturdays. MAP is pushed by Peace Corps in Togo; it uses men as advocates for gender equality and women’s rights so that women are supported and understood as they start to make changes. Although MAP is meant for men, our group included many women. We invited mixed genders and people who deal with children often so that we would not only be working with people who could spread this information to the younger generations, but also people who were open minded and wanted to improve the lives of the children around them. 

We talked about a lot of things that really reminded me of ideas drilled in my head during elementary school (like stranger danger, drugs are bad, if someone touches you tell an adult, no means no, Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, not just Jill, boys can play Pretty Pretty Princess too, girls can play football). We started off with simple definitions, like the difference between sex and gender, what gender equality really means and built off of each session. We went over health statistics, HIV/AIDS, appropriate sexual/platonic relationships, sexual harassment, sharing of domestic tasks, etc and while there were some people who were tough to convince, the majority of the participants were very open minded and motivated to start spreading what they have learned. One guy wanted to know what my views as a Western woman were regarding gender equality/about my sex life and was very adamant about it. Paul and I decided to skirt this request because it’s already radical enough that I’m 24, unmarried, childless, and living away from home. I truly expected some resistance from the teachers when we brought up age differences in sexual partners, as a lot of teachers sleep with their female students (everyone calls it “sex grades”) (and by sleep with I mean practically enslave: the girls cook, clean, play house with the teacher, all the while she still has school and homework to worry about! And the teachers swear that it’s the girls seducing them; “they just can’t control themselves”...c’mon, man!). Instead of a boycott for my radical proposition of not sleeping with your students, one principal declared that he would like the session leader information about age differences, prostitution, and sexual harassment to share with his colleagues and everyone else chimed in, asking for the same xeroxes. Some men in the group were all talk and very pompous (“well, I sweep my compound every morning because my wife is too lazy to get up and do it herself”) only to not participate if they were randomly in a female only group for an activity. Some others stopped showing up because they felt they weren’t paid enough (that’s right, I had to pay people and feed them to come to this training). There was a core group of 23 people, out of the 35 invited, that came every day and took everything we taught to heart.

My favorite participant was my friend Mary, one of Joseph’s three wives (another one was at the training, too), who was representing the Methodist church. She’s a hairdresser and sells cold water sachets and juices and I spend a lot of time with her, just hanging out. On the first day of the training, she stood up and gave a huge speech in local language. Oh how I wish I could have understood what she really said! Paul briefly told me that she had said that men complain and complain all the time, but women know solutions, women have valuable things to say, valuable things to offer, and that the time has come for men to include women in the running of the household and the running of the community. Since the training, I can tell Mary has changed: she is more outspoken, she is more open, and she is unbelievably motivated. She told me that she was proud of me for introducing gender equality to the people I did (namely women), and that she was proud to be chosen as a participant. She has high hopes for her apprentices and has already started passing along the information to them, trying to coax the girls into realizing their value.  

Thinking about Mary and about the principal, Babowa, and their openness and motivation to share their new knowledge warms my heart. It’s crazy to think that just now I’m trusted enough to share my passions with these wonderful people and we have bridged the culture gap to become friends, and now, after so long feeling lonely and isolated, I have begun counting down my last 6 months in Togo.  

I know that my MAP training and my Christmas time camp aren’t going to produce a sweeping change in gender issues in my community, but I do know that the more information is spread and the more I get people talking about it, I have made a change. It’s a tough thing to accept as a Peace Corps volunteer. When I get on Facebook, people ask me about my time in Togo, how many schools have I built, how many babies have I saved from the throes of malnutrition, etc. I may not have done big physical projects, but I have spread a lot of knowledge. 

Some short musings

Why Harry Potter wouldn’t work here.

The other day, I was reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and as all of you know, I love Harry Potter books. I was sitting under the mango tree while Madame was cooking gari (cassava flour) over open flame, the kids were helping sift the flour to cook, and Bea no (Bea’s mom) was playing with her new baby, Mawusi. I was loving rereading the 2nd book and was daydreaming of somehow getting my hands on the books in French and handing them out at the middle school, awakening the love of reading and French in all my environmental club kids, and they would spread the love and once I left, they would wistfully recall when the white lady introduced them to the wonderful world of escapism through reading when Paul walked up. He inquired after my book, and I enthusiastically recounted the plot, and this is how it went in my French which is missing it’s magical vocabulary, and the culture barrier where a closet under the stairs is a strange concept: There is this little orphan boy and he lives with his aunt and uncle and they are very mean to him. They make him live in a tiny box room and never feed him enough, while their son is fat and a mean bully. The boy sometimes does strange things when he is angry and no one understands it, but the family punishes him anyways. Then, one day, he found out he’s a sorcerer! His aunt and uncle told him his parents died in a car accident, but really they died by the hand of an evil sorcerer, and they were sorcerers themselves. Then, the boy, as a baby, defeated the evil sorcerer and is a celebrity in the magic world. So, he goes to a magic school with all sorts of other sorcerer children and the evil sorcerer tries to kill him every year for 7 years.

Paul was really confused by how excited I was by this book about sorcerers. His questions were along the lines of “Wait… aren’t the parents of the children worried about giving them books about sorcerers? Aren’t people in America aware of the power of sorcerers?” Then I realized...there are sorcerers here, also called charlatans, people who use voodoo and animist beliefs to perform magic. Harry Potter was so popular in the Western world because we know that magic isn’t real (and if it is real….is there a Hogwarts for adults?) and that wizards/sorcerers don’t exist. It’s fantasy, where here, it’s a true belief. Sorcerers are feared here because they can awaken strong powers that be that can destroy your life. Many people go to them when they are very sick or seeking revenge, so sorcery and magic have negative connotations and everyone lives in fear that their bad luck is actually a curse laid on them by a jealous friend. The conversation with Paul was a difficult one, as I had to be really delicate to be sure to not say “Americans know that magic isn’t real”, because I’m not too sure...but I think that even though Paul doesn’t identify himself as animist or voodoo, he still believes that stuff is real. I mean...Africa is a magical place.

Ah! What’s going on with my language skills?

I recently got my GRE scores and am just a little bit disappointed. My verbal score was just one point higher than my math score, and math is not my forte; I seriously considered getting tutored at the middle school since my practice sets were so bad. I’m definitely going to take it again, but until then, I must wonder… what is happening to my language skills? 

I have loved reading all my life, and living in a village has given me the opportunity to consume books like never before. I am always reading a new book and have probably read around 80 or more books since I’ve been here. But my verbal score was still low, I have difficulty writing (I have to proof read my blogs multiple times), and I lose English words and phrases all the time. This has happened with a lot of volunteers and when you’re around 2nd year vols, we’ll spend a quarter of our time trying to figure out what word we’re looking for.

This is probably due to the fact that we are surrounded with local languages that we don’t really understand, and speak French with those who are educated well enough to speak it, and then read and write in English. Three languages are jumbled into my everyday life. After PST, my French level was Advanced Low/Advanced Mid, and I remember thinking that I would spend my service perfecting my French so that I could put professionally proficient on my resumé. Instead of improving my French, living in a village has brought it to the most basic level: passé composé, présent, and futur proche. I have to remind myself to use the futur and imparfait and conditionelle when around very educated people. I have to adapt to the dialect here - bastardized words that make no sense to me here (caquettes means peanuts in France, but oatmeal in Togo/ doigts de pied means toes in France, but orteilles is the word in Togo) and the basic grammatical structures. There’s this nice bread sold in my area (read: not empty sugar bread, but still white bread), which is called sacumi in local language, but bonpainchaud in the weird French (goodhotbread). Women sell it from baskets on their heads and yell “BOOOOONpain CHAuuuUUUUD!!!” and men sell it from boxes on the backs of their bicycles and honk an obnoxious horn. I once stopped and asked if the bon pain was really chaud (is the good bread actually hot??) and the man looked at me like I was crazy! I put my hand over his basket of bread and said, no it’s not hot, why do you call it bon pain chaud? And he was just baffled… it’s just called bonpainchaud and that’s that! Another time, I was taking pictures of fishermen in a bay and they kept on yelling “Pas de fumer!!” (No smoking!) and I was like well, duh, I don’t smoke, until a woman came up to me and said that they were asking me to not take anymore pictures of them. They were trying to say “pas de filmer”, which isn’t even the proper French for taking pictures/photographing (“prendre un photo”) or for filming something (“tourner un filme”). Instead of having my French corrected all the time, I’m having to use my mediocre French to correct everyone else. Of course, I do this in my head and don’t really discuss it with other people...it’s well known in Togo that it was hard for me to let go of my French accent and have been outwardly annoyed with the level that everyone seems to function on here.

Oh my GOD it’s so HOT!

This hot season is killing me. I can’t recall what it was like last year, but I do remember that any time I tried to do anything outside, I would practically faint. The same goes for this year and more… I am sweating 24/7, have incurable heat rash on my butt, and am out of service for almost all hours of the day when the sun is shining. There is something different about this hot season though, I have electricity this time. Not only do I have electricity, but I bought unlimited internet this month. This means many things:

1. I live in front of my fan, on my rock hard bed.
2. I can get on the internet and entertain myself (when it’s working).
3. I’ve realized how weird I’ve gotten.
4. I’ve realized how weird America has gotten. (What does ombre mean? When did those little # things transition to Facebook? Why do you want the entire internet world to know your exact location, Google maps and everything?) 

An Ode to Breakfast

If anyone who reads this knows me well, you know that I love breakfast food. I’ve been trying to perfect my pancake since elementary school and have loved scrambled eggs since forever. My love affair with bacon began in high school and picked up speed as it became the popular foodie item a few years ago, and try to convince everyone here that they don’t know bacon like I do… I’ve had Benton’s bacon. Of course, they have no idea what I’m talking about. I have distinct memories of trying to convince my parents to take me to IHOP every chance I got. Every Christmas, we make a breakfast strata (is that how you spell it?), basically an awesome breakfast casserole with bread, eggs, cheese, sausage, and sundried tomatoes, and it is by far my favorite breakfast. And yet, as much as I love breakfast food, I wasn’t one to really eat much of a breakfast until I got to Togo. Sure, I dabbled in it at the dining hall in college, but I was normally running late to class with no time left to run through and get some grub. Here, in Togo, I get hangry if I don’t get breakfast by at least 8 am, and it always sets the mood for my day. 

Normally, I wake up around 6:30 and go for a run, do some yoga, or make a bunch of excuses and lay in bed and read. Around 7, I’ll get up, crawl out from under my mosquito net, and take a cold bucket shower, and then begins the hunt for breakfast. There are many options available, but first I have to decide: do I want to cook my own breakfast or go get “street food” breakfast?

Making my own breakfast options are much more variant than street food options. Oatmeal is a popular choice amongst volunteers, and you can find it in fancy boutiques in towns. There are a zillion ways to spice up oatmeal and I love putting peanut butter, bananas, and cinnamon in. If I have flour, eggs, and powdered milk, I can make the beloved pancakes (although I try to save that for special breakfasts, like when I’ve run 5 miles and have done a tough workout video….so that means not that often :), or muffins, or biscuits, or what have you. I can toast bread and use peanut butter and well, you get the picture! Unfortunately, having no fridge and being lactose intolerant, I can’t bring soy milk from Lomé, nor can I keep yogurt, which makes me sad all day. 

Now, getting breakfast from a street food vendor can be chancy, and that’s why a lot of people build a serious relationship with whomever they buy from. In Zafi, there is the ominpresent (until you’re actually looking for it) rice, beans, and “maca”, oily spaghetti, which is also served as a lunch and dinner option. More often than not, the sauce is a ground fish sauce swimming in palm oil and is added to the mixture. In my quartier, 2 women sell the same rice, beans, and maca right across from each other, which I find a little strange. Someone else down the way sells only rice and sauce (talk about getting protein in…). I personally find ayi-molu (rice and beans) to be a little too salty for me, and honestly, I’m so sick of rice and beans I could go the rest of my service without eating it. Another option is beans and gari, a cassava flour that is really popular. Togolese love love love gari, and the crunchy flour has a higher ratio to beans in the morning bowl, and of course, there is the palm oil to make it all stick together. Sometimes, but definitely not in my village, will people sell hardboiled eggs with their rice/beans/gari/maca mixture, and that’s always a saving grace when hungry for protein. There are also egg sandwiches that Muslims tend to favor, and volunteers flock to in groups. I don’t normally eat an egg sammie unless I’m with other volunteers, but it is pretty filling. This egg sandwich isn’t like the ones you find at home, but rather and egg, tomato, and onion mixture fried and oily on a white bread baguette, slathered in mayonnaise. Often, sweetened condensed milk with a splash of Nescafé is offered and many Togolese order just that with mayo on bread (a mayo sandwich, if you will). In every regional capitol, volunteers have scouted out the “best egg sammie guy” and we always regroup there after our rare nights out together. Finally, my favorite is bouille, a sort of porridge that you drink from a bowl, and there are many different types of bouille (bwee) (or, in local language: zogba). There is millet bouille, which is red and spicy and I like to have it sometimes for variety, there is tapioca bouille, which I normally can only find sugared and I don’t like very much, and then there is fermented corn bouille, which my neighbor makes every morning. For some odd reason, Togolese people love love love candy and sugary liquids, but hate sugary food, so when it comes to bouille, which is drinkable, a lot of women sell it with the pound of sugar already added in. This stuff is ridiculously sweet and leaves me feeling weird and unsatisfied, which is why it’s good that I have developed a close rapport with my neighbor, who makes fermented corn bouille at her house. She knows not to add sugar into my cup and always gives me a little bit extra. I take it home, add peanuts and sometimes banana, and violà! Breakfast of champions. There’s also something else that is normally served with bouille: bread or beignets. The bread is normally rolls that are this white sugar bread (read: no nutritional value) and the beignets are basically fried dough. Many Togolese feel that sugared bouille and two beignets is a balanced breakfast (tell me, where is the fruit? Where is the protein?). 

I’ve been so hooked on bouille that I have practically retired my “Good Morning Oats”, and I search for it even when I’m not in my village. It is hot, yes, but so are all the other breakfast options, and I’ve already started my day long sweating from my morning work out. I even wrote a haiku about bouille:

Bouille...how I love thee.

Pas de sucre, add some peanuts

What a good breakfast!

Not very creative, but ya get the gist. I want to bring bouille back to America, but I don’t really know how to ferment corn, or even have a mill to make the corn flour I’d need. There are some packets of the flour for sale in Lomé, and I may stock up on them so that I can continue to have my 3 square meals of corn (corn porridge for breakfast, corn mush for lunch and dinner). 

When I get back home I propose a day of breakfast food, or a week of extravagant breakfasts. I miss bacon and sausage and blueberries and raspberries and yogurt and smoothies and omelet stations. Maybe I’ll make some bouille or an egg sandwich to share the Togolese tradition. But what I really want is bagels and donuts and good coffee and lox on a bagel and toad in a hole (is that what it’s called?). Eggs benedict and french toast and maple syrup……….

Interviewing Paul's Family

Being the third volunteer in Zafi, in the same house, with the same host family and homologue, j’ai de la chance. My homologue, Paul, and his family (Madame, Hervé (17), Émile (11), and Agbenavi (7)), as well as other neighbors, are my best friends in village. I have integrated into the families and look forward to seeing them daily. They are patient, giving, nurturing, and supportive. So, I decided to interview my host family to learn more about them than what I already know from our ever increasing time together. Spanning from anecdotes about older volunteers to learning that I have some willing and able work partners amongst the women to American myth-busting, this interview brought forth a lot of eye opening information.

Caitlin: When did you start working with Peace Corps?

Paul: In 2008 with Nick. He was in Natural Resource Management (now changed to Environmental Action and Food Security), and we did a plantation of fertilizing trees at the CEG, started a little environmental club, and with the help of another volunteer, David, we made tree nurseries. The community didn’t really get what Peace Corps was, so it took some time to figure out what to do and how to utilize the presence of a volunteer

C: What did you think of Americans before you met Nick?

P: I appreciated their way of life, their dedication to democracy. I admired that they like respecting the law. They aren’t egotistical like the French.

Madame: I have always appreciated the acts of westerners, since they come here to help us. I had heard that the Americans are the strongest [power] in the world.

Hervé: Americans are developed, and [they] think daily about how to improve their country.

Emile: They like to play with kids! Yay!

Clément: [he moved next door while Abby was a volunteer] I learned that Americans are really smart and they can create machines and they have built machines for all the work that they do. 

C: What is the weirdest thing about Americans?

P: They adapt themselves really quickly to Togo, especially after learning about how different America is. They are really good at technology - there isn’t anyone who doesn’t know how to use a computer! What is education like over there that they all know how to use it? They always seek solutions to all the problems they come across; they communicate quickly what’s going on and how to fix it. When Abby was here, there was one night that the cat jumped on her roof and it made a lot of noise. She thought that it was thieves coming to steal from her and instead of calling me, she called her boyfriend, Matthew, in Bassar. She quickly told him what was happening and they figured out how to fix the problem. Americans have a lot of confidence and trust in their peers.

M: Americans do mysterious things. Nick’s girlfriend told us that when she first tried to come visit him in Togo, she had a dream that something bad was going to happen, so she cancelled her flight and rescheduled. When the original flight left, it crashed and everyone died. She was able to interpret her dreams and tell the future. Also, Americans can predict how things are going to unfold, even if it isn’t the same day, but further in the future. Americans don’t hide the truth from their work partners.

C:Why is that weird? 

M: It’s weird here because here, people keep things secret from even their closest friends. They are scared that maybe those who they confide in will be jealous and think bad things so that bad things will happen to them. Americans tell everything to each other! We appreciate that though!

H: Americans/volunteers have a lot of information about the problems in the environment, but how do they come across that information? How could they determine that that’s how things are happening?

E: It’s weird that Americans can make machines like a tractor or a car.

Agbenavi: The garden is really weird. Why put it next to your house?

Atchou: (Paul’s nephew, former environmental club president, 19, in 2nd) Americans, they are the most...they study a lot. And they have a very developed intelligence. Amongst their women, girls, men, boys, they develop quickly, intellectually and physically. 

C: What does the community say about your relationship with Americans?

P: They were a little surprised, when the first volunteer came, how I got to “get” the first volunteer. They thought that he came for me only. After explaining everything about the volunteer, they wish what the volunteer would stay with us at all times. They thought that I was paid. They thought that the volunteer gave our family something. But now that they know what the volunteer’s work is, they say that I have a lot of courage for working with volunteers for free. They appreciate me because they wouldn’t be able to sacrifice the time or work, they say that it’s hard work and its a work of sacrifice. They want me to give one of my children to each volunteer that comes so that they can go to school in america! 

M: There are some people who ask how it’s possible for me to interact with Americans when I didn’t go to school. I explain to them that they learn some local language and we have small conversations. When they don’t understand, the kids interpret for us. They also ask me if Americans can eat our food. I explain to them that of course they can eat our food, but they like some things and dislike others. 

H: Some people ask me what your work is here, concretely in the village. Then I explain it to them. There are also some kids who ask if you will accept new people into Environmental Club. 

E: My friends ask me what you do here, what your work is in the community.

A: My friends ask me what your role is in the community. I tell them that you are here to help everyone!

C: What makes you proud of Zafi?

P: The community is not very violent and there isn’t much crime. And also, they are...they work a lot and look for work to make money. There aren’t a lot of people who take drugs. And also, the majority of the community gives the volunteers respect.

M: The community likes to welcome strangers, they have lots of hospitality. 

H: The community likes to have friendly relationships. They help their friends out.

E: The people of Zafi make themselves work a lot. They like to work a lot. 

A: I like the way that I can sing loudly with my friends.

C:There’s possibly going to be a new volunteer in Zafi in August, but not in the same house as mine. How are you going to welcome them, even if they may live further away?

P: I’m definitely going to welcome them and make sure that they are comfortable here. I know that they are here to work for the community and I am open to working with them. Since they are here for the betterment of the community, I can help teach people to treat them with the respect that they need and I can help them with projects in the community.

C: Do you have any advice for Americans who come to Togo? (I have a feeling that my question was a little misunderstood)

P: First, in the realm of security, I advise them to not go out past 21h.  Second, also, to avoid night visits by those they do not know very well. Third, for respect, don’t drink too much in the bars. Don’t frequent the places that serve sodabi. If they want the local drink, ask their counterpart so that they can buy it in bottle and take it elsewhere.  Fourth, I advise a volunteer to start at least one concrete project so that the following volunteer can build on it. Don’t limit yourself to your mandate, do sustainable projects so that the next volunteer can pick it up. That way the community will be able to work longterm and show the new volunteer where to pick up. Fifth, I would like that the volunteers who are in the same region/prefecture create a network of work. It’s to say that they should collaborate in their work. There are three different sectors in Yoto [our prefecture] and they can bolster the work of each volunteer in each village, since all the sectors are tied into each other. And finally, I wish that this network of volunteers in the region would also create a network between the counterparts as well, to facilitate work, even after they leave. 

M: I would like if the next volunteer would be able to help the women in our community. The majority of the women have not gone to school and cannot go to trainings. It’d be nice to have a camp for all the women so that we can learn what they have to offer. I’m not sure if the Americans are scared to tell us the truth, but if the don’t like something I make, I would like it if they would teach me how to make meals from chez eux so I can make it for them. [I think they know I feed the pate they give me to the dogs...eek]

C: I came here with the mentality that I wanted to learn from Togo and from the community. But, now I want to know what you want to learn from me, or Americans in general.

P: For me, personally?

C: What you have learned and what you would like to learn?

P: What I have learned is gender equality. When I try to practice it, there is a great advantage in it. I’ve empowered my wife and she has started to help me with/ teach me a lot of things. I’ve also learned to treat my children equally and they all have domestic work.  The work isn’t just for girls or just for boys, it’s for all the kids. I’ve also learned how to manage my time. Before the volunteers, I wasted a lot of time, and lacked profit. Now, when I practice time management, I find a lot of advantage and I’ve acquired a lot. Also, about the chemical pesticides...when I learned that they give sickness and that kills the soil, I stopped using them. I’ve noticed that now that I use natural pesticides, my sicknesses have gone away. In that way, I’ve been able to advise others to use these pesticides and quit chemical pesticides. With agriculture, with the documents that I’ve read from Peace Corps, I’ve appreciated the association of field work with animal husbandry. With time, that will evolve and will give me a lot. It will earn me a lot of money! I think that, with the trainings at Camp UNITE and Camp Eco Action, I learned a lot and it reinforced my knowledge about the environment. I have started to share that information and I think that I can help the community change their behaviors to benefit our children and grandchildren. For what I want to learn...well, the base education in Africa, it weighs down on our evolution. It’s difficult to change a behavior that we had learned many years ago. I would like to continue to learn. I prefer, even better, that there will be a time there won’t be a volunteer in Zafi, but there will still be contact with us and Peace Corps so that we can continue to go to trainings and learn and continue to help the community and change behaviors. I know that there are times that volunteers aren’t replaced, and we, the counterparts, are to replace the role of the volunteer in the community. We have learned a lot from Peace Corps and we are supposed to be the example in the community. If we have support from Peace Corps in Lomé, we can continue to learn and evolve and have the boost to continue volunteer work in our communities. 

M: By the grace of volunteers, I have learned how to make liquid soap and that helps me a lot. If the volunteers have more income-generating activities, I can learn how do it and that’ll please me a lot. I would like to learn the art with strings that you do. [I make friendship bracelets when I’m really bored].

C: I have a friend who’s parents came to visit him in his village in Togo. After they left, there was a rumor that, because he was American, he could build an airplane and that he had built one to bring his parents to visit. Are there weird rumors about Americans that you heard, even in your childhood?

P: When I was little, we thought that the Americans had gone to the moon, built houses, and put up an American flag and claimed the moon as their own land. So, we don’t know if this is true or false, and you are American, so is it true?

C: Hahaha! Well, it’s true that Americans went to the moon. They were the first people to land on the moon and they put up a flag. But there isn’t any air in space, so people can’t build houses or live on the surface of the moon. I think it’s free land for anyone.

P: Wait, but there is still the American flag there? Well, then it’s still land for the Americans. [He then tells his friends that the rumor has been confirmed.]

M: I don’t know any.

P: I heard that there is an American man who was pregnant and gave babies. I saw his photo at my friends house. How is that possible?

I explained the pregnant man….

P: Uh! La medicine! 

M: I heard that in America, there was a woman who gave a child with 4 heads and 8 feet!

P (interpreting for his friends who are over to watch Africa Cup of Nations): My friends want to know...are there really pregnant western women? Every woman we’ve seen that is white they have never been pregnant.

H: If an American woman has a baby, do they do it like they do here? At the clinic or at home, traditionally? Is there a machine that takes out the baby?

Electric Feeeeel

August 7th, 2012

Back in my past life, when I lived in America, I used to come back to my dorm room after a night out and notice that I left all my lights on and my straightener plugged in and think, oh woops…no big deal. During my year before the Peace Corps, it was a norm to come home to an apartment totally illuminated without a soul inside. We all did it: we left lights on, we left TVs on, we would be in the grocery store, filled with florescent lights, freezers, refrigerators, and automatic sprinklers for produce, and gasp: "I left the oven/iron/stove on!". The standard of living in the good ole US of A requires the use to electricity and boy did we use it! There are appliances for everything from drying hair, washing clothes, chopping vegetables, and sending currents through our food to cook it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think there is even something that is supposed to zap your abs to get them toned! The electricity goes out and the world stops. Fridges and freezers are emptied, people crowd the mall or movie theatre in search of air conditioning. Basically, you guys back in America are babies without electricity, and I was most definitely the same way.

Togo isn't a very electrified place and I spent my first 9 months here without electricity. It wasn't so bad, actually, but it forced me to live a very simple life. Washing clothes by hand, using candles at night, cooking with a gas stove, learning how quickly produce rots without a fridge, always having a flashlight at hand. It was doable and I got used to it easily. If it was hot, I'd go outside under the mango tree. If I had leftover food, I'd either compost it or feed it to the dogs. I'd bike to other volunteers who had powered houses and charge my computer, phone, and iPod every week or two. I learned how to spend my time without constant media entertainment and how to ration my iPod battery for runs and nighttime podcast listening. 

Zafi got electricity in December 2011, but it took till June 2012 for my house to be hooked up. Apparently people built their houses in places that don't coordinate with the village plan down at the prefectoral capital 15 km away and they either have to tear down their houses for the electricity or our little corner of the village wouldn't be connected. Obviously, you can't ask people to clear out of their houses and rebuild elsewhere for something as trivial as electricity, so there has been no official connection by my house. Paul figured out a way around it…and we may be hooked up illegally, but now we both have power! And now that I have it, I've noticed many things….like how weird it is that it isn't weird to have lights and plugs now. And how much my village seems to be on the up and up with electricity. One of my counterparts, Joseph, bought a photocopy machine and is running a little business out of his house. For some reason, I've been called over to fix it, since it's from America, I must know how to, right? He also bought a massive freezer so he can sell frozen juices. Where does he keep all of these appliances? Well, he has three wives, therefore three houses, so they're dispersed amongst them all. 

Joseph's commerce and polygamy aside, Zafi with that electric feel sometimes turns into what I like to call "club Zafi". Music blasts, people are out later, there are dance contests where every group dances the same dance over and over to the same song, except sometimes there's a kid, sometimes there's the village dwarf, and sometimes there's the guy with one arm. Paul and his family leave their outside light on all night, following suit with the center of the village, which is illuminated 24/7. Recently, there was a funeral about 5 houses away from me and a brass band played until 3 am, only to be replaced with speakers blasting Togolese music until 7 am. Popular songs include My Heart Will Go On and Barbie Girl. 

A couple days ago, I went to the new bar that opened up in my quartier: Le Chiffre Zero A Sa Valeur (The Number Zero Has it's Value) to share a Coke with Paul. They have electricity and therefore a large cooler and even bigger speakers which blast Togolese pop. Paul and I sat down and enjoyed a nice glacé Coke and watched the gang of kids ages 10 and younger grooving to the ear drum popping music. Kids of all levels of nakedness seriously hang around this bar once the sun goes down so that they can dance to the music all night. They absolutely love it. Anyways, I was entertaining myself with the kids; asking them their names and how they dance, giving away sips of my soda (once I was finished of course), and suddenly, all the electricity in the village went out. Even when the electricity is on and people leave their lights on at all hours, the stars here are brilliant, but without any electricity on this incredibly clear and cool night, the sky just lit up with a gorgeous display of what you can only see in a place like this. The Milky Way was so clear and shooting stars were all over. I kinda wish that it was interdit to have lights on after a certain hour, as to not distract from the beauty of the skies. Paul and I talked about superstitions that have to do with the sky: here, a falling star means a chief will die soon. I tried to explain the leprechaun with the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but wasn't very articulate.

November 11th, 2012

For some reason, my electricity has been out for 24 hours. Well, not just my electricity but the whole village and possibly the whole prefecture (like a county). In America, this would mean the emptying of refrigerators, unplugging of electronics and a newborn relationship with your neighbors you only waved to before you were forced to hang out. In Zafi, it means back to the old ways of flashlights and candles. All the neighbors already know each other and there are four total refrigerators to speak of, which are all filled with water, juice, beer, or frozen imported chicken and fish (which is being thrown out…I hope….ew). The stars are out and I can see the Milky Way perfectly as crickets chirp in the comfortable silence of the night. It's nice and kinda makes me want to cut off my electricity for the rest of my service.

But then I think about how awesome electric power and therefore technology really is. Sure, back home, I couldn't wait to be unplugged and "roughen' it" in West Africa, but now that I've gone without and then got connected to electricity, I see what's so marvelous about it.

1. Seeing at night = getting more stuff done.

2. Less kerosene lamps for people to knock over and get scarring burns all over their legs. More often than not, I’ll see a slip of a women’s calf only to notice the horrible burn scars.

3. Refrigerators = income generation. Bars, frozen juices, frozen meat, cold drinks are a hot commodity here in Sub Saharan Africa!

4. The ability to charge things, like phones, which means more people are going to get cell phones. I know that in America, everyone is addicted to their smart phone….trust me, I've been at many a silent and distracted bar table, and I swear I'm about to block the next person on Facebook who uses this iPhone photo thing to take a picture of their food or mimosas or what have you, BUT cell phones are actually incredible things. People in Togo don't have land lines hooked up to their mud and clay huts. There are 'stores' in villages where you can use the phone service, but that might be the only land line for miles. The only way to communicate was by face to face interaction or sending your children to relay a message for you (not so much on the letter front, there are two post offices I know of in my prefecture). Cell phones have revolutionized communication for everyone. You can call your relatives in a village further away and know of news much sooner than by messenger. Crop sales are made easier, product availability easier…just think of all the things you would call about on a daily basis if you didn't have Google and just a dinky Nokia.

5. Speaking of…COMPUTERS! Man, my old MacBook (born: 2006) is of serious use to me here. After college, I would just use it for internet browsing (read: Facebook stalking) and watching Netflix and thought that my laptop would only be of use in those ways here. Wrong! First off, the internet is as slow as molasses and Netflix doesn't work in this country, even if I could get it to load. But, it's been used for so much, I feel like I have a magic tool that could do so much for the development of the community, if not all of Togo. Typing up letters, flyers, interview questions, surveys, etc. Creating budgets, graphs, labels, and nice photos. A movie theatre and music box for the kids (they love watching the Single Ladies music video). This is all without the world wide web of endless information and resources!

6. Fan. Self explanatory. And yet, it mainly works as a noise canceler, which is maybe better.

7. TV!!! I know back home there are stupid shows that just drain your brain, and it's no different here, BUT there are so many advantages to a TV: connection to the outside world, entertainment, encouragement to learn French. Hopefully some of our less than impressive shows don't pop up over here….like the Bachelor or those shows about having way too many babies…we're trying to promote monogamy, gender equality, and family planning here.

These are all the great things about electricity without the luxuries of washer/dryer, dishwasher, garbage disposal, air conditioning, ceiling fans, electric stoves, ovens, vacuums, the list goes on. Machines may run the Western world, but think about what that does for women. Women here spend their whole day just trying to get basic needs for the family: pull water from cistern every time clothes, dishes, bodies need to be washed, firewood searched for in order to heat food for every meal everyday, etc. Think about how we're all doing laundry here in Zafi the next time you say "Ugh I've spent all day doing laundry!", because I assure you, when it's laundry day, that's all the women do. With all the appliances that are so normal in other parts of the world, these women would have time for education, gatherings, and possibly even emancipation from this male dominated culture. 

Electricity and technology can do so much for someone's life and opportunities and I hope to always appreciate the power it brings. Even if it sometimes means the same pop songs played over and over till 7 am.

A Silly Rant...

Once upon a time, I interned and volunteered at Beardsley Community Farms in Knoxville, TN. It was a nice place where everyone tenderly cared for the plants and worked hard to make it through the daily to-do list, but at a nice southern pace of slow and steady. We had a chicken coop with a bunch of hens named after prominent women in society (except for Lindsay Lohan, the red one, who tried to escape a lot). The coop had a hen house and a fenced in area for the chickens to roam in. They stuck to their area and didn’t bother the beds of the farm. 

Oh how I dream of that chicken coop now... I don’t think there is a single person in my village who has any sort of structure for chickens, but everyone has them. My neighbors have two roosters in addition to other chickens and these aggravating men crow at all hours. No, this isn’t any Rockadoodle situation. The roosters do not crow to get the sun to come up. They crow always. It’s like a dang competition. I can hear the flapping of wings against a feathered body and just know what’s going to come next...COCKADOODLE DOoooooo. Doesn’t matter what hour it is: could be 1 am and they will crow for fun. Doesn’t matter how many times they’ve crowed: since I’ve started writing this at 8:44 am to now, 8:50 am, each has crowed 7 times. 14 crows have etched into my patience for the day in just a matter of 6 minutes.

The crowing is just the tip of the iceberg; if you recall, I noted that there aren’t any chicken coops or fence like structures for these dumb animals in my village. These annoying birds wander everywhere and destroy everything.  I have a fence around my front yard, my side yard, and my garden, and somehow the chickens work their way in everyday. I direct seed,  aka plant the seed directly into the garden bed, watermelons or squashes and they never make it past seedling phase: the chickens come in and eat my seedlings!!! I dug and planted a flower bed next to my house with a great variety of flowers, but I started from seed since there really aren’t any nurseries around to buy the actual flower, and guess what happened! The chickens came in and took some great dirt baths in the beds. Now the garden bed has yielded zero flowers, but at least 5 dirt bath tubs, which now become stagnant ponds when it rains (perfect for mosquito breeding). I leave all my doors and windows open during the day to have a flow of air in the house, which is the perfect opportunity for chickens to just wander in and poop while I’m taking a nap. In the village itself, I watch as wandering packs of hens and chicks drink the green, stagnant, and dirty water that pools by people’s shower huts. They all gather at the massive trash piles and pick at food to eat in it. They are just disgusting and obnoxious!! At least they are tasty. Although not very healthy....

Chickens aren’t the only animals I hate here. There are also goats. I hate goats. In Togo there are pygmy goats and they are small and squat and just straight up dumb. I only like the very very baby just born goats because they are cute and frolick sometimes, but that’s the only thing I like about goats. Their meat is gross and greasy and nasty. My neighbor’s goats are another source of frustration in my yard situation. They will actually tear apart the fence (which leaves open holes all over for all sorts of animals to come hang out in my yard) and wander in to eat all of the plants available. I had sunflowers that were a foot tall, I was so excited for them to get big so I could have some seeds, and they ate them! They also make this cry that sounds exactly like a person imitating a goat. In PST, we used to play a game called “kid or kid”, trying to guess if it was a human child or a goat crying. Sometimes my neighbor will tie up a goat to one of the orange trees and that little annoying thing will just cry all night long. They also cough, sneeze, and fart a lot and it’s like the soundtrack to my life in Togo! When walking anywhere in this country, you will see that the path is sprinkled with little black pebble looking things. That’s goat poop. It is absolutely everywhere and fortunately doesn’t stick to your shoes when you step on it. But yes, goat poop is all over the place. They also eat out of the garbage piles and drink dirty water with the chickens. Ughhh I just hate them!!!!!!

What stirred this rant was something that happened when I was switching the sheets on my bed. I had washed this particular sheet about a week earlier and set it out to dry in the evening, which meant that it was going to take much longer to dry. In the morning, I noticed that some of the laundry I had done was hanging in a different place, including the sheet and thought “Oh, they must have fallen during the night and someone picked them up for me”. (Side note: I do have my own fenced in yards, house, etc, but there seems to be no boundaries in the Togolese culture. People invite themselves over no matter the hour, and I’ve had to draw a very stern line regarding the time. The women I live by use my fence and bare awning to dry their laundry, which means that they come into my front yard as they please. Can’t really draw a line there, because where else are they going to dry their laundry?) So, it’s dry, I put it away. Now right before I wrote this, I pull out my sheet to make my bed and realize that there are holes in my sheet. Goats had pulled down my sheet and tried to eat it. Awesomeeeeee!!! 

Now, I know that there are ways to fix this situation: the American way and the Peace Corps Volunteer in Togo way. The American way would be to demand that my neighbors keep their goats, chickens, and children off my property!! and that they pay for the new fences and sheet. This really wouldn’t fly because the excuse is commonly “Those animal are so stupid, I can’t have any control over them!” The Peace Corps Volunteer in Togo way is to see how I can get the community to have some sort of behavior change regarding their animal husbandry views and practices...in fact, it’s part of my job to help people with their animal husbandry techniques. I have the resources to be able to build a chicken coop, to make a chicken and goat feed garden, to get vaccines for the animals, etc. My obstacle is that the people in my village don’t see their current ways as something that needs improvement. I’ve asked “Why do the goats come into my yard and eat all my plants? Don’t other people get annoyed when goats do that?” and the response I get is: “Well, if you feed the goat enough, it won’t stray from the house and won’t eat other people’s plants”. Umm..... au contraire, my friend. Here are some more examples of the way the village sees their current animal situation: Q: “Why are all the chickens getting sick?” A: “Oh the chickens are so dumb, they drink the stagnant green water” Q: “What can you do to fix that?” A: “It’s up to the people who’s showers have holes full of water to fix it, it’s not my fault that the water is there for my chickens to drink. Africans just don’t understand water sanitation”. It boggles my mind!! I have spent a pretty penny fixing my fences, just to have them shoddily put up and chickens to find a hole, the dogs to enlarge it, and the goats to start eating it. Grrrralkjd;adfij. The number one reason for infant deaths is diarrhea, which is brought on by unsanitary water. With poop on the ground (which kids do pick up, ew), cisterns fermenting with contamination, trash piles where chickens, pigs, and goats gather, wandering chickens, pigs, and goats in general, etc etc it’s no wonder that children get sick so easily and that everyone is “habituated” to parasites. I’m definitely going to do what I can to get something better in this situation, but I swear, the next time my garden is destroyed or I have to buy a new piece of fence, I’m going to kick a goat!

And so my rant is over...for now. I hope everyone is having a joyful holiday season! 

A Vacation // Foire AlimenTERRE

Well, I think my writer's block is finally gone and I will be able to entertain y'all with a 2-in-1 blog post! Hooray!

I have finally completed one year in Togo! I must say that it has been a long year; it doesn't feel like "just yesterday" when I was in Pre Service Training (PST) or back home. In fact, those memories seem a life time away; I could almost be nostalgic about that time just a year ago. And since I have known only Togo for a year, I have finally ventured out of the borders to gain some new West African experience.
First stop: Burkina Faso, the big blob of a country that sits atop Togo, Ghana, and Côte d'Ivoire. Also a former French colony, Burkina is all savannah (maybe even a little bit of real desert) and has a lot of aid work coming in, read: awesome ex-pat places in the capitol. I visited Burkina with my APCD (aka my boss) and three friends/fellow volunteers for a conference held by ECHO. The conference was supposed to be a "West African Networking Forum" and since ECHO is an environmental development organization, we were pumped. We stayed in fancy hotels with air conditioning and hot showers and ate awesome food - I even had a bloody mary! But, the conference was a let down. We all felt that all of the information presented was very basic and that there wasn't much innovation going on. But, I also do feel that this disappointment is a testament to how much I have learned in my technical training with PC/Togo. Hear the employers? Well trained in sustainable environmental practices!

Grand Mosque in Ouagadougou

Although the conference was a bust, we did get to meet a lot of involved people in the agricultural development field and a lot of PCVs from Senegal, Ghana, Guinea, Burkina Faso, and the Gambia. Us PCVs set out to explore Ouagadougou (the capitol of Burkina, pronounced "wa-ga-doo-goo"...I try to fit this word in conversation at least once a day) and found the Muslim city to be very appealing. It was very different from Southern Togo, not just in the fact that it was super flat, but in general attitude. No one ever grabbed my arm or shoulder or told me that we were going to get married. Everyone generally kept to themselves and were very calm, and I've found this to be true of all the Muslim communities I've visited. Ouagadougou had a giant mosque and tons of dates and cashews. It was hotter than Togo and there were soooooooo many flies. We met some Burkina PCVs and were shown the ropes, which meant a really good time!

Pretty lake in Sabou

We had a free day and a Burkina PCV came along with us to Sabou, a town a few hours outside of Ouaga. There, we trekked through tall millet fields (very common in Northern Togo, too) to a beautiful lake. Apparently a sacred lake, we paid around $3 each to touch the crocodiles living there. The men at the place, which was geared towards tourists (aka us), pulled out this rope that they had somehow "flavored" with chicken and sheep and walked up to the bank of the lake. Then, the man in charge whistled a little birdsong as he coaxed crocodiles out of the depths of the lake and up onto the bank. Each of us got to hold the tail and take a picture, which was a little underwhelming because we heard he would get to ride them. The croc excursion was anticlimactic, but interesting nonetheless...and it was really nice to get out of that dang hotel!

Me holding the croc's tail :)

Because of the conference in Ouaga, I missed the half marathon in Ghana, but I went for a visit anyways. I saw a LOT of Ghana, but not all, and I know that PCV village life is probably similar to what I live here in Togo, but OH MY GOD I may have gone into culture shock there! Infrastructure! Roads! Even the street food was fancier! Electricity everywhere! Oh man Ghana was so much more developed that what I have seen in Togo or Burkina. Even their Peace Corps program is much more structured with lots of different In Service Trainings available for different topics and their volunteers are given a "primary project" at site - environmental volunteers have beekeeping, cashews, shea butter, etc. In Togo, a huge part of our first year is spent doing community assessment to figure out what they want/need!
Obviously, I loved Ghana. Accra was like an American wonderland wehre i went to my first casino and went shopping in an American style clothing boutique. I trekked up north to Tamale to meet up with a fellow Sewanee alumn, Mary Liz (YSR!), who is also an environmental PCV. We ate banku with groundnut soup (fermented corn mush but sooo silky with a peanut sauce that knocks what I've had in Togo out of the competition) and we even mourned the loss of Shenanigan's together, our favorite hangout on the Mountain. Mary Liz, myself, and a few other PCVs headed from Tamale all the way over to Lawra - a town in the Upper West Region to visit another PCV and attend the harvest festival going on that weekend. After a long and dusty ride across the country on a very bad road and a game of musical bush taxis in Wa, we finally arrived in Lawra. Everyone there was so nice and genuinely interested in meeting us. There were paved roads and electricity and strawberry FanMilk. We ate well and had a great time.
The festival was everything I had imagined Africa to be before I got here. We met with the chief, who told us the history of Lawra and how Kwame NKrumah had been exiled there. We watched a traditional dance competition where everyone was dressed traditionally, played either gourd xylophones or drums, and were jaw droppingly talented. There was even a group of physically disabled and blind people competing! Lawra was full of culture that I hope wasn't artificial and I was very impressed.
On the way back to Tamale, I saw real live wild monkeys cross the road! I had a wonderful time and hopefully the Ghana crew can come visit me in Togo (hint hint).

A noble man with a pretty great walking stick.

The chief's sisters (the "mother chief").

Gourd xylophones.

Traditional dancing group.

Another traditional dance group. Check out those cool sound makers on their calves.

Me, Britney, and Mary Liz.

Coming back home, I am busy busy with a ton of projects coming up, like this Foire AlimenTERRE next week, which I will totally write about. And of course, the environmental club is making a come back in Zafi, plus some other work. The results from my vacation are more motivation to learn local language, cool new ideas for fun activities in Zafi (spelling bee anyone?) and maybe even a new parasite?

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Village life in Togo is a great way tot see how isolated those in rural Africa are from a multitude of things, including what's going on only 100 km away from them. Not a lot of change happens in daily diets because of this lack of communication and collaboration, as well as tradition, culture, and habit, which leaves the majority of people with two huge problems: 1. horribly nutritionally lacking diets 2. famine seasons due to lack of preservation. Food security is such a large part of my focus/work and I always try to fit it into the scope of any project I'm working on.
Just this past week I finally had my first national project roll out with great success: a "food fair" of sorts, where Togolese showcase their different food products as a way to promote food security. The idea was to have Togolese people come together to see that their products are hot items, that there are others out there that have similar ideas, and that they can greatly improve their food security with local foods. The fair was called Foire AlimenTERRE, which means Food Fair, but with a play on words for "alimentaire", since "taire" and "terre"(ground/earth) sound the same. Peace Corps partnered with OADEL, a local NGO that supports local and organic agriculture and I was in charge of all the participants associated with Peace Corps, volunteers and Togolese alike. In a country where starches and oils dominate the plate and imported goods are lusted after, our efforts are starting were America was in the 1950s, but progress is being made. The Peace Corps participants included a myriad of vendors and products: rice, honey, mushrooms, ginger (juice and dried), turkeys, bush rats, and sodabi (moonshine made out of palm wine...guess whose counterpart sold that? ;). The fair itself showcased everything from fruit juice, soy based products, enriched corn flours, good breads, moringa products... everything! They also had cooking classes everyday, stressing the importance of vegetables and teaching how to include them in local dishes. Movies about changes in the environment, health, and agriculture screened in the evenings and every few days there were business classes for the participants.

The whole Peace Corps gang at the fair.

Although the fair was dead at times, it was a big success as people from all parts of Togolese society were able to network, sell, learn, and become confident in the products of Togo. Paul actually sold out of sodabi in a few days and had to go back to Zafi to get more! My friend Daniel's fat turkeys brought a lot of attention, especially by expats who are hopefully buying them for a real American Thanksgiving :). My friends that came to see the fair and participated alike bought all sorts of great local products to show people back in their villages. Well, except for the good nutritious bread that only made it as far as our bellies: we ate so much of it that the vendor started giving me free Madeleine's!

My counterpart, Paul, and I.

Paul giving out some "tasters" of his sodabi.

The fair really was a turning point in my service for many reasons. First, I've finally pulled something off project-wise, which makes me feel good and productive. It's also instilled in me (as well as Paul) a sense of confidence that we can do a lot of work in Zafi once we get back. And finally, a feeling of...well I don't really know what word to use....a very close friend left Peace Corps during this same time which gives me both a transient and settled feeling. Transient because we all have an expiration date on our time in Togo and with Peace Corps, which means that friendships will have to become long distant in America. Settled because I'm now living in one place for longer than anywhere else since I graduated high school and know I'll be here another year, which means I have more projects coming up and I have a clear idea of what my next year is going to look like.

Jafar's new sleeping position.

Connor fighting some kids.

Sunset in Lomé.

I hope this double post makes up for my small hiatus! :)

My friend Manda sent me this poem and I think it captures my quicksand sentiments:

Some days you and I go mad
Our bellies got stuffed full
Hearts break, minds snap
We can't go on the old way so we change, our lives pivot
Forming a mysterious geometry
- Deng Mino Dao

Just wanted to keep on adding cute pics of my dog :)

Yovo, Yovo!!!

There’s a word that is all over Togo and Benin, maybe even some other old French colonies in Africa, that is used to describe a foreigner. Kids chant it, calling attention to the person who does not belong. It’s used to identify, to label any and all that is different, foreign, and in some twisted way what is good quality, as the Togolese prize imported goods since they find their own to be worthless. Having lived in poverty while foreigners arrive with their cars, nice clothes, electronics, and education, the Togolese have come to regard their own products, their own fruits of their own hard labor, to be inferior and things that come from ailleurs are considered to be good, a sign of wealth since it takes money to buy imported merchandise. Many things are grown here that are then exported: rice, coffee, cotton, sugar. Then, the cheap equivalent is imported and bought like crazy here: rice from Thailand, Nescafé from Ghana, sugar from France, pagnes made in China. 

This aforementioned word is used to describe wheat flour, bleached sugar, pale skinned Africans, and us pink faced foreigners from the Western world. I can be called this word and tell the person, in Ewé, that I do not like that name, that it isn’t kind, and they will argue with me: it is nice because it is wonderful to be white. There are albinos, covered in sun spots due to the strength of the African sun and the complete lack of sunscreen, and people will point out: that’s your sister/brother, you are both of the same skin. My skin color sticks out, being the only white person in a black world, and with it comes so much attention. 

I once had a very dear friend who was darker than the rest of his family, even more so because half of them were a step family, and he would be the only one stopped for a security search at the airport. Whenever they would go on family vacations, he would be stopped for the different last name and the different skin color, and he struggled with it. The only relief he felt was when his step brother’s name was put on the no fly list for being too generic. I never really understood why it bothered him so much: he was still a part of his family, he wasn’t the only person in the world with darker skin, and he was always going on an awesome vacation. But now, as a white woman in Africa, I understand where his frustration came from, why it bothered him so, and why it was such a struggle to be labeled that way: he identified himself with his family, but then an outsider saw only the surface differences and labeled him as separate and had expectations that came along with that label. Because of his skin color, he became someone worthy of stopping and searching at the airport security check; because of my skin color, I have become someone with bottomless pockets and the ability to make anyone one rich by marrying them and taking them to America. 

The word used for foreigners, imported goods, or just white things in general is yovo. The intonations go up on both syllables and escapes everyone’s lips when they see me: yovo. Togo isn’t very saturated with our type, so even when I see another white person that I don’t know, I say “Did you see that yovo? I wonder what they’re doing here”. The kids have a song that they chant over and over again: Yovo, yovo, bonsoir, ça va bien? merci!!!!!! When I’m in a bush taxi, at the post office, in the marché, someone will use yovo to get my attention: Yovo....yovo....yovo....il faut me donner l’argent. If that didn’t work, they resort to : le blanc...le blanc...le blanc, which actually means “white man”. At first, I thought it endearing when little children would race towards me yelling YOVO!! just to stop dead a few feet away, giggling, fearful, scared to touch me. Then it became tiring, being referred to by my skin color and having wildly incorrect expectations of me and what my skin color means. It was tiring having to say over and over to every person that I encountered: nkonyenye Akuvi, pas yovo... “My name is Akuvi, not Yovo”. Finally, I began to get angry. I felt that I was being taunted for something that was beyond my control. It was incomprehensible to me why people would continue to call attention to my skin color, I know they’ve seen a handful of white people before in their lives! I’ve been living here for many months! Why were they so persistent in calling me yovo when it was obvious that I disliked it and how can they actually argue with me about whether or not it was appropriate, when it is universal common courtesy to not call to attention people’s differences! Did they really think that they were going to make friends this way? 

My anger was rooted in the fact that I was constantly being told: you are not a part of us, you will never be one of us, and we will never accept you as part of our community. My American culture saw their name calling as rude because it was politically incorrect. It infuriated me that they didn’t stop to think about how I would feel being constantly noticed, constantly talked about, constantly called a name I didn’t like. I felt like the only person in the world of my type for a while, the only person who would stand up for my skin color, because there were no numbers and therefore no power. My day could start with a sprinkle of yovo’s and it would just snowball until that last person would spit out those two syllables....yo-vo...like a slap in the face and a punch in the stomach, and I would retort, loud and clear. My bitchiness and my voice would rise if it was a man who would then laugh at me, as I am a woman and since when were people supposed to care about my feelings? Since when did the words from a woman’s mouth have any value?

The “equivalent” to yovo is ameyibo, which is a derogatory term towards black Africans, and at first I’d only use it when I got really angry with someone, but as my general anger at the insensitive nature of yovo got stronger, I began to use it very liberally. I would spit out the word with disgust and wait for a reaction. It was my ammo and I was defending myself against any and all people who would shoot yovo at me, women and children weren’t even safe. I left a destructive path of shocked faces and reinforced impressions that white people think that they are all that. And this is my story of how I learned some anger management:

I was coming home from somewhere, and I normally have to switch cars in a city on the national route to be able to tumble my way down that really horrible road to get to the other side of Togo. This station, or gare, is notorious for having really big (forgive my french here) assholes, who will raise prices and waste your time like they are kings of the land. I once got in an argument with a chauffeur over a price and he threw my backpack out of his car, just to give you a taste of how mean they are there. These guys know that it’s only through them that one can get over to the East side of Maritime, unless you want to pay extra and go through the capitol, and so they try to run it all to their own comfort. So I’m sitting in the van, next to a large woman who is kind and speaks French, and I’m tired, hot, and dirty, and I just want to get back to Zafi. A very obese woman sits on the other side of me and gets annoyed that I can’t scoot over more for her. Large women, or “marché mamas” are well known for their ability to take up a bunch of space in a bush taxi by sitting with their legs spread, and they can also get very sassy when others don’t give them their space. So, marché mama next to me is getting sassy and we’ve been sitting in this van, filled to the brim with people, chickens, and bags for what felt like ages. The sun is getting low in the sky and I want to get to the neighboring town to Zafi before the sun sets in order to get a sober moto to my house, so I begin to feel very antsy and frustrated. We’re all baking in this van and a woman behind me starts up: Yovo...yovo....yovo...yovo. I just think: I’ve had it. I’ve had it with these insensitive jerks. Screw this country. I am going to show them how it feels. They will understand my pain! except the language there was a lot more colorful. My anger flared up, and I always imagine a literal flame inside of me, flashing on with a strike of a lighter, and this time it was on full blast. I spun around and glared at the woman as she continued to say yovo, staring straight ahead and I used my defense: I snarled AMEYIBO and the entire van went silent. All 25 people hushed and then, like a rumble of retorting anger, they all say OOOOHhhhhhhh....owwwwwwwww (ow means no in Ewé) and then erupted in the loudest yelling match I’ve ever been in. Women were yelling at me in Ewé, I was screaming C’EST PAREIL!! (IT’S THE SAME!!) over and over again, and men were just so shocked, they couldn’t even arrogantly laugh at me. I swear, even the chickens were squawking and someone was probably working up to hit me. Finally, I calmed down a little bit to listen to what the women were trying to say in defense for using yovo and realized something...they weren’t saying that it’s okay to call me yovo. 

The driver’s name was Yovo. He’s a light skinned Togolese. The woman was trying to get his attention.

Of course, I apologized profusely, found out that the woman and I have the same name, and then Yovo told me he was going to marry me so that we’d be two Yovos together and rich in America. The women forgave me and taught me Ewé all the way down the road till I got off the taxi.

Now, I’m a lot more kind when someone calls me yovo. Well, if it’s a man and he’s obviously just trying to mess with me, I just ignore him. But if it’s a kid or a woman or a guy who may have good intentions, I say nkonye menye  yovo-o... nkonyenye Akuvi... nkowode? My name isn’t Yovo, my name is Akuvi, what’s your name? Most of the time they laugh in my face, and I just laugh with them, because it’s a much better time laughing than fighting.