Falling Bats, Drowning Rats, and the Chicken Dance

During the month of November, I stayed in Kante all of the time, except for a small excursion to Kara for Club Espoir, and was therefore able to be with the people I work with and my neighbors.  There were some exciting things, like the bat that was trapped in my house (again) and a rat that somehow appeared in my bucket of water.  But, besides those incidences, November was just a nice chill month. 

JE CONNAIS AND THE CHICKEN DANCE

Je connais (I don’t know his name, but that is how it’s pronounced) is my neighbor’s kid.  He is two years old, likes to dance, make weird faces, yell at animals, wear my shoes, and thankfully, no longer likes to pee on my floor (this seemed to be a favorite pastime of his until recently).  Anyway, I have successfully taught him the chicken dance.  Now whenever I start humming the “nanananananana nanananananana nananana na na na na”, he begins dancing until he realizes that everyone is staring and laughing at him.  I have also taught him how to do the “bump it” greeting (bump your fist with his) instead of shaking hands.  In addition to using this “secret handshake” to form a type of exclusive club for me and him, I also use the “bump it” greeting to avoid touching his hands and getting sick.  (His hands are constantly covered in something wet, sticky, smelly, possibly stain-causing, and more than likely diarrhea-causing.)  My next goal for this kid is to teach him English.  I speak to him in English, which my neighbors may see as a sign of my craziness, but I see it as individual mentoring and training at young age.  I already taught his brother Maxime some phrases like “hello how are you I am fine…” and “you are silly” and “I just want to be loved” and “show me the money!” 

SOCCER CLUB

The girl’s soccer club has been continuing every Saturday morning.  The directrice of the middle school found an assistant coach for me.  I have a love hate relationship with him.  He knows how to coach soccer, which I love (because not much remains from my memory of playing soccer in elementary school), but he is a martinet!  He is so freaking strict and punishment-oriented.  I had (idealistically as always) envisioned the club to be an avenue for girls, who have so many more responsibilities than boys and always work hard, just to have fun.  I can tell some of the girls are “on my side” too.  One time they were laughing because they screwed up, and then the assistant coach yelled at them to stop laughing.  According to him, soccer must not be fun, it must be about winning.  I suppose that this battle of “Have fun” vs. “play to win” is universal.  *sigh* oh well.   

HANDICAP SCHOOL

There are many blind and deaf people in my town.  I say “many” because I know more people here than I’ve ever known –or have even seen- in the US.  There is a Togolese missionary named Tcheou who works with them, and has been working and teaching for years and years.  Some of the kids he taught are now adults and continue to help out at the school when they can.  One is a blind guy who works around the corner from my house.  His name is Mensa and he works at a water pump; people come to him if they want water.  Women line up with buckets on their head and he turns the water on, turning it off when the bucket is full and collecting the coins that he will hand over to the pump owner.  He makes 7000 FCFA (about $14.00) a month.  Anyway, it was through Mensa that my neighbor Alisha learned about the handicapped school.  We visited the small school once.  You need to walk along the national highway for about ¼ or ½ mile before turning off and following the winding rut-filled path to the small room where they have classes.  It’s about the size of a US laundry room or bathroom, and was full of 15 kids.  Most of them were deaf; the blind kids obviously have more trouble getting to the school, so often do not go.  We started talking to Tcheou and listened to his stories and ideas.  How there are so many handicapped people all over the prefecture (county) who cannot go to school and are often just abused in their own towns.  How it would be great to have a bigger room to teach more children.  How it would be great to have a dormitory so blind kids could stay, not worry about trying to find the school along the national highway.  How it would be great to have a garden or other income generating things, so the kids could learn how to make money and be self-sufficient.  We talked a lot- and now we are planning/brainstorming ideas of what we can do to help this group.  It is seriously probably the best group I’ve worked with.  Most groups, without fail, always seem to have a hidden agenda of making money (which is not necessarily bad a bad hidden agenda- but just annoying when you come here wanting to work with skills and teach healthy living and behavior- and not just give out money).  But, regardless of whether giving out money is “good” or “bad”, it is just such a relief to meet a group of people who have done so much work for themselves and their group without much outside assistance.  It means that they will continue- they’ve continued for that past 20 some years- and they’ll continue after.  But one thing is certain- there is so much potential- any help would be well utilized and appreciated.

GIRLS CLUBS

So, I had planned to start a girls club, and a science club- but it is so difficult finding a lot of interest in science among girls L !  So, now I have started multiple girls’ clubs- 3 to be exact- and am determined to somehow implement science in any way I can.  I have this great super idealistic idea that I can buy a cheap microscope in the US, bring it back, and then find out how to get the ingredients for agar plates, have the girls go get swipes from different surfaces around town, and then grow bacteria and see it under the microscope.  I have somehow convinced myself that if girls are involved in this, they will start to like science.  But, for now, I have just been getting things going.  The three are all different.  You would not believe that the three group meetings started from the same plan.  One group likes to sing- a lot.  I am not a singing type of person.  But, I suck it up for this group, and most recently taught them “We wish you a merry Christmas”.  The other group, probably my favorite group, likes to play games outside- like active sporty games.  They somehow understand the directions right away, whereas the singsong group is slow to catch on to sports.  Then there is the last group.  This group is best in the actual discussions that go on in the classroom- they seem to understand what I’m trying to get at whereas the other two groups seem completely lost sometimes.  I like them a lot too.  I guess the only group I have trouble with is the singsong group just because I feel like I am always pushing them to work, and must take breaks to sing songs- whereas the other groups don’t seem as difficult to motivate.    (Although maybe it is just me who is difficult to motivate when you throw singing into the program.)   

ISMAEL VISIT

My boss, Ismael, comes and visits every volunteer a couple times a year.  He is a great boss- it’s obvious that he cares about the volunteers and somehow understands the unique type of difficulties we have as Americans being in Togolese culture.  So, his visits are always like a breath of fresh air- I can get so bogged down, thinking about doing things and trying to get things to work and getting frustrated, and then being elated when things do work – his visits put everything in perspective.  For example, I love the hospital- I used to go there every single day.  But, I started to notice that when I arrived at the hospital and began helping with the work, someone would leave- a nurse, midwife, etc... Would disappear.  I began put two and two together, and realized they were leaving because I was doing their work.  This is something I knew I didn’t want to do: take the place of someone else.  So, I scaled back my work at the hospital and now only go to say hi once in a while.  After explaining this to Ismael, he said that many volunteers feel this way: that they take the place of someone else.  And he said that this is not true.  At the hospital, there is a ton of work to do; when I show up and someone leaves, they are probably just leaving to do another job- more work that needs to be done.  I was really happy to hear this, and am going to start returning to the hospital to work- I love the hospital; I think I just needed a reason to go there.  While he was here, we also discussed the future of Kante, my town.  It looks like, with Peace Corps budget cuts, many villages will be getting cut (regarding volunteer placement), and Kante might be one of them.  I have mixed feelings about this.  Of course, I love my town, and I want the best for the people I work with, and more opportunities are available, or just more easily accessible, with a volunteer.  But, knowing that Kante doesn’t need another volunteer makes it, in a way, a success story.  Volunteers have been here since 2002, have helped start organizations, and worked with tons of individuals, promoting health and girls’ education, and connecting people to opportunities they may never have had.  Now, its time to leave – Kante is good.  I suppose this sounds like a lot of blabber – but I think I am just preparing myself emotionally, for something I assumed would never happen: that I won’t have a replacement. 

CLUB ESPOIR

Club Espoir, the monthly club for children infected or affected with HIV/AIDS is always a fun experience.  They play games, talk, dance, sing, and eat a nutritious meal.  With all the amusement going on, it’s easy to forget that these kids have been through much more than many people will ever experience and most would care to know about.  But, once in a while, eyes are reopened.   Something happens, someone makes a comment, someone shows up with a weird rash – or worst of all—someone doesn’t show up again…  Anyway, this past club was focused on time and money management.  My group, (who most volunteers refer to as the trouble maker group) was learning about how you can save a little change every day in a tin can converted piggy bank.  But, some of the kids weren’t sure how they could even begin to find change.  We started to ask questions around the room, trying to prompt them to think of when and where they ever have spare change.  It soon became clear that lots of kids had change in the morning to buy something to eat at school.  But, we came to one girl who said she did not get money before school.  We asked her what she does for food- does she eat before or at school?  “Yes,” she said, “sometimes if there is corn mush that Papa didn’t eat the night before, we take the leftovers and split it in half.  One half is for the dog to eat.  The other half is for my sister and I to share. 

THE BAT RETURNS

About a year ago, a bat entered my house at night, causing me to run around and scream for the neighbors, who henceforth guided it out the door.  I thought it would never happen again- that it was a once in a lifetime- experience, but apparently it was not.  The bat-or his friend- returned.  At night, my lights were on and the bat shot into my room.  A second later (after realizing what it was), I ran out and over to my neighbors door.  Like last time, I did not remember the French word for bat, so I flapped my arms like wings and said “There is a thing that does this in my room!”  My neighbors knew immediately what I was talking about and all the kids ran over to watch.  The oldest kid, Yassime grabbed my broom and started swinging at the bat.  Soon he made contact, and the defeated bat fell to my couch.  The kids ran to see what it looked like and see if it was big enough to eat, but after realizing it wasn’t big enough to cook and eat, they focused on playing with its wings and asking me to take their picture.

THANKSGIVING

Travis lives in an incredibly small village.  There is one primary school, one small store, and a tiny one-room church.  If kids graduate from primary school and want to go to middle school, they must walk the 7km to the neighboring town every day.  A small village, like everything, has is positives and negatives, but one positive is that it doesn’t take a lot to have a party for the whole town.  In a way, Travis did this for thanksgiving; he invited about 30 people, hired a woman to cook a ton of food, and gave any leftover food to whoever was not invited.  Four of us volunteers were there, and after a lunch of fufu prepared by the village’s midwife, we all waited until night.  At dusk, students brought benches from school over to the clearing in the center of the village, and everyone gathered around.  Travis made a speech, in the limelight of the flashlight (his village has no electricity) and then the women served food and tchouk (the local beer).  A few more speeches were made, and then people started to take turns telling jokes or stories.  Nothing is better than observing Togolese story time- People get sooooo into the stories- both the storytellers and the audience.  One guy continuously made comments, gasps of surprise, and laughed hysterically at the jokes.  WE stayed in the darkness listening to the stories and drinking tchouk until most of the people left.  It was such a wonderful- almost perfect- Thanksgiving.  The only thing that could have been better was if we had eaten the racist turkey.  Unfortunately, the other feast that we had planned for Thanksgiving was canceled, and the turkey was left to live.  I think I will just pardon it.   

POLIO VACCINATION CAMPAIGN

For years, people have been predicting the eradication of polio.  And, although no new reported cases have been found in Togo in quite a few years, surrounding countries have had cases, meaning that there is still a threat.  The many handicapped people are also a reminder that Polio is not an eradicated and forgotten disease like it is in the US.  So, there are polio vaccination campaigns in which Togolese are hired to go to regions of the country, vaccinating children in the large cities to the most remote villages.  In addition, the WHO hires people to monitor the campaign, making sure that the vaccinators are doing their job.  I usually tag along with these monitors and “show them around”; strangely, I know the prefecture and the people better than they do.  The last two polio vaccination campaigns were in April and May- during hot season.  This time, it took place in the mini hot season, meaning it was still hot, but not ungodly hot like April.  My prefecture seems to be one of the most disorganized, with only one paved road (the national highway) and many unpaved and/or undriveable paths linking villages.  Some villages, because of the mountains, are more easily accessed from Benin or other prefectures of Togo than from my prefecture capital.  So, it’s always a challenge/adventure going house/hut to house/hut and asking if the vaccinators had arrived and done their job.   

MALARIA ACTION COMMITTEE

Malaria is one of those diseases that are completely non-existent in the developed world, but a huge huge HUGE problem in parts of developing world.  It’s the biggest killer in my prefecture and one of the biggest killers in all of sub-Saharan Africa.  When you go into the pediatric wing of the hospital here, you walk into a big cement room with tons of beds separated by little cubicle-type walls.  Sick kids are there with their mothers, and if you walk through the cubicle aisles asking what this or that kid has, you will hear “palu,” the word for malaria, for probably 8 out of every 10 kids.  But people have been used to living with it for so long that they often don’t seem to take it seriously.  Almost everyone knows sleeping under a mosquito net helps prevent malaria- but so many people choose not to- because its hot (it actually really does make it hotter- I didn’t believe it at first) or stuffy or because they cut up their mosquito net and use it for other purposes.  Anyway, the Health domain of Peace Corps Togo is getting re-vamped with a new malaria initiative- and I get to be one of the coordinators!  Yay!  First, every volunteer is going to do a house to house (hut to hut) survey (leading to 50-70 houses) to try to get a real idea of what the mosquito net situation is.  (The malaria stats the Togo provides aren’t quite accurate).  Anyway, this is just the start – and I’m excited to be one of the leaders in this group and I will continue to talk about it as the month’s progress.  

Marvelous October

October was a time of change, which it always is-possibly the world over. Here, rainy season stops; I'm pretty sure I experienced the last rain until May. It's incredibly hot now- the mini hot season. School began - late this year and my travels settled down as clubs began and picked up. Although October itself involved more planning with groups than actually doing things, I'm incredibly excited about the plans, and will talk about them as they progress in future months. In brief, some of the plans include: a health and environmental club at lycee with hand-washing stations, an analysis of certain unhealthy behaviors to find the best way to direct change among students and women who cook/sell food, a "tour" of the prefecture (like a county) to talk about moringa (super food and tree), and a soccer tournament. So, hope your October was marvelous, because mine certainly was :)

THE AMERICAN BUSRIDE
Arguably, the best way to travel in Togo is by bus. Unlike bushtaxis, you have enough room and don’t need to stay in weird positions that are more reminiscent of advanced yoga than a casual roadtrip. And unlike motos, you do not need to hang on for dear life (literally) over the sudden bumps and holes that decorate the roads. So, I almost always sign up for a bus ticket if at all possible. The only negative aspects are the not uncommon bus breakdowns, broken windows, and the long wait. It was during one of these long waits for a bus that I heard people speaking English. Their western jeans, polo shirts, and hats, along with American language nuances like “Man, blah blah blah, man,” and “Hang on” led me to think that maybe they were famous Togolese music artists, who generally seem more Western to me than Togolese. My thoughts were interrupted by the crowd gathering at the bus entrance- boarding had begun. A woman read aloud the name and number of each ticket, and we individually boarded and took our assigned place. I was lucky this time; the bus was airconditioned, and I was seat #1, meaning I had a little table I could put things on. I had experienced a Togolese airconditioned bus only one time previously, but that bus had broken down for three hours in the early afternoon of a scorching day in hot season. Anyway, I boarded, sat down in my #1 seat, placed my water bottle on my table, and people-watched as the other passengers boarded. Soon everyone with a ticket had boarded, but the seat next to me was still empty. “This is nice,” I thought, “I get two seats!” But my excitement was short lived. No sooner had I thought this, than the Western-ish-Togolese –probably-musician guy sat down next to me. “Oh no,” I thought, “I hope he doesn’t talk a lot and try to get my phone number and address and call me constantly”, which is what sometimes happens when you’re a white girl in Togo sitting beside a younger guy who seems “cool” like a musician. He sat down, said “Bonjour,” and then that was it for awhile. “Oh good,” I thought, “I won’t have to worry about thinking of all the excuses not to give him my phone number.” But then he started speaking English – American English – to another Togolese. He turned to me and said, “Where are you going to?,” in French. I responded in French but I guess my accent gave it away. “Do you speak English?” he said. “Yes; I am American” “You’re American? I live in New Jersey!” “No way! Why are you in Togo?” Turns out, he was born and raised in Togo, went to the US nine years ago for college and is currently getting his Nursing degree. He had not returned to Togo since that morning. His father had just died and all the members of his family from all around the world were returning to a small village in northern Togo for the funeral. The whole ride up north we talked. He explained what he thought about development and Togo – it was strange hearing a Togolese speak with a Western perspective. He was saying how the schools are bad and the roads are awful and many other things that I will not mention in this blog. Every time we passed a car, almost hit a motorcycle, or killed a chicken trying to cross the road, he would flinch as if he himself was about to get hit. It made me realize how used to Togo I was- nothing caught my attention as being out of the ordinary, whereas everything caught his attention. Anyway, it was a very interesting bus ride. We exchanged contact info, just because it’s such a small world, and went our separate ways- me the American back to my normal life in Togo and him the Togolese to his weeklong visit to this unusual foreign land.

SOAP FIASCO 
The members of AED-Kante, the local HIV/AIDS group I work with, have been making liquid soap and selling liquid soap. However, recently it has become more difficult to sell it; many people refuse to pay the price that we have chosen which would ensure we make a profit. So, AED has been thinking about making and selling solid soap. The problem is that someone knows how to make it, but she only knows how to make it in large quantities and we can’t buy the large quantities because it is too expensive. The members don’t want to contribute (a little bit contributed by each person could help buy supplies), so we are in a standstill. I personally think that if the members don’t want to contribute, then we should not try to make it- how sustainable would that be? 0.0 We will see- it’s good to have income generating activities, but pointless if no one wants to make the effort to try and get it going. I’m planning to see if there is another type of income generating activity that they may be more enthused about.

SKL-ta!! “N-Kriya!” “Alafia we ya” “Alafia. Ohway sartia” “Alafia” “N walo lo?” “Ma walo skl-ta.” Wal- n –kahn.” “yooo”. “Good morning! How are you? Fine how are you? Fine. Where are you going? I’m going to the school! Go and come back! Ok!” During the “summer” months, school was out of session, and summer was extended and finally- after waiting and waiting- school is back in session. So far I have been working with two schools. First, I am working at the CEG (middle school) where I am focusing on girls (this is the level of education where most girls drop out). I’m working with the librarian to lead a girls club. I’m really excited about this and made a tentative plan with the librarian about what we can do and talk about. The optimist that I am, I hope to create a supportive group of girls where we’ll talk about HIV/AIDS, nutrition, sexual health, hygiene, communication, peer pressure, the environment, gender roles and rights, and of course the importance of education. I’m hoping to incorporate little science experiments (like finding microbes from different things we touch) or studies (like really simple nutrition studies). Anyway, I know nothing will go according to plan, but I’m still super excited just to try.

UNIVERSITY HELP 
Sortof on a whim, my dad suggested I write a letter to a local university in the US. I did, and after months of no response, I finally received a response from a very enthusiastic person and now we have this great collaboration. University kids will help put together an English curriculum for my English club, a personal finance guide in French for the HIV/AIDS patients and donate a bit of their fundraising to girls tuition. I’m so happy and excited to be working with them.

HEALTHY!! 
So, for the past couple months, I have been completely healthy! I don’t know why actually- there is nothing that I am consciously doing differently (diet, handwashing, mosquito net, number of showers/day etc..) Actually, I thought that this rainy season would be more of a risky season, in terms of getting sick. This is just because there is more water which means more mosquitos (malaria and other mosquito-related diseases), more sewage getting in water and possibly in street food (giardia, amoebas, dysentery, other diarrhea stuff) etc… Anyway, usually that means more sickness. But, for me (knock on wood), I am illness-free!! Ironically, it was during this time where I received my official Level 10 Club T shirt. Short recap: level 10 is the level of pooping in which you poop your pants. This obviously indicates some type of illness (the “illness” being related to pooping your pants, not a *mental* illness that may possibly be inferred from the actions of forming a club and making tshirts to celebrate pooping your pants) See some of my first blog articles for more details. ……. (but …… as I am posting this – I have started to get 2 different rashes (1) the allergic reaction rash I get from eating mangos- even though I haven’t had mangos- I think I got it from being a mango tree for Halloween – the mango leaves touched my skin. (2) another rash around my neck and chest and arms that is like heat rash, but different. Maybe it’s a fungus. I will update you if it turns into something weird.)

THE ADVENTURES OF POPPY, QUI SAIT, and BUSTER (aka Grumpy) 
Many of my past blogs have included stories about Poppy, my dog, Qui sait, my neighbor’s dog, and Buster (who I’ve begun referring to as Grumpy). Recently Poppy has taken to finding mud and rolling around in it like pig. He then will find me in town somehow and start whimpering. Everyone knows that he is my dog and everyone knows that he is a “bandit,” or troublemaker. So, whenever muddy Poppy shows up, everyone attempts to send him back home by throwing rocks at him. Sometimes this works, but usually I finally decide just to return home with Poppy in tow, lock him up on my terrace, and then return to whatever I was doing in town. After my work is finished, I come home to locked-up, miserable Poppy, and all the neighbors kids taunting him and prepare to wash him. With the kids, I get a bucket of water, soap, and start cleaning Poppy. This is a great effort; Poppy is not small (up to my thigh), and is strong. So usually, the act of washing Poppy turns into a riot with all the kids and wet dog running around, water and soap covering the floor and providing the perfect place to slip/slide/dance (like pippy longstockings), and Poppy providing free water-sprinkler service with his constant shaking off excess water. The much smaller Qui sait, who I believe is inherently smarter than Poppy, usually stands to the side, knowing that if he gets too close, he too will be washed/tortured. While all this is going on, Buster/Grumpy is nowhere to be seen. It is only when I enter the kitchen that his constant meow-ing announces his presence. I will give him whatever it is I’m eating or preparing to eat, and he will refuse it and continue meow-ing. Then, he will pee on the folded up sheets I have set up to use as a dogs’ bed. I think the only reason why I keep him is because I don’t want mice and lizards running around my house.

BYE BYE RAIN; HELLO DUST 
So, Rainy season has been tapering off. I’ve wished that it would never end, and that it would rain every single day for the rest of my service, but I suppose it’s good to have variety. I will miss the blue-green fertile mountains surrounding Kante, and the mountains of the sky: the dark blue-grey storm cloud mountains. Soon, everything will turn to different shades of brown, including the sky, which will host the wind and sands from the Sahara. Then, bushfires will begin as people burn their fields in search of animals to eat, and you’ll be able to see the mountains around Kante will seem to hold these floating fires against the brown background of earth/sky.

NEW VOLUNTEERS and HALLOWEEN 
New volunteers arrive in Togo twice a year. So, twice a year, new volunteers visit their future villages and all the older volunteers welcome then. This year that visit and welcome fell on Halloween weekend, so all the Kara volunteers –old and new- got together to have a Halloween party. Some people had costumes made, trying to explain to Togolese seamstresses and tailors what Halloween was and what they wanted their costume to be. Other people put together random things to make a costume that was somehow Togo-significant. I, as usual, decided at the last minute what my costume would be. There was a mango tree outside, and I had just learned how to wrap an African headwrap, so I cut some tree branches from a mango tree and attached it to a green headwrap and therefore became a tree. Even the new people were prepared with costumes, which was surprising, since they were new. It is weird that the next new volunteers to arrive in Togo will be here to replace me and my friends who arrived with me. SCIENCE FRIDAY Every Friday is marche day. This is a day (every village and town has their day) when people come from all around to buy and sell whatever they can. Although its exciting and interesting to watch and experience, it can get pretty hectic and there are more outsiders (ppl not from Kante) who don’t know me and more drunk people, so I usually get stared at and yelled at more. So, if ever I feel like that will upset me (I’ve become really aware of my current state of mind and what aggravates me), I just stay away from the marche. This means that most Fridays, there is not much to do besides go to AED for HIV/AIDS patient consultations. So, I have begun a routine in which every Friday, I read and summarize a science article (I have luckily saved a lot of science articles onto my hard drive so I have enough material). Thus far, my favorite has been a review article about how gut microbes, nutrition, and immunology all interact and play a role in one’s health. One super example is fiber. You cannot digest fiber; only microbes in your gut can. So, when you eat fiber, the types of gut microbes that digest fiber multiply (so your gut microbiome changes overall). They digest the fiber to produce short-chain fatty acids, which are important for energy, but especially for your immune system! They also did these incredible experiments in which they first raised mice in a super clean and isolated environment, so that they were “germ free” and had no microbes at all. Then, they took a sample of microbes from the gut of an obese mouse, and a lean mouse, and put them in the germ-free mice. The mice that received the microbes from the obese mouse became fatter that the mice who received microbes from the lean mouse! It was specifically interesting because it referenced Peace Corps volunteers, saying that after having lived in poor (and often unsanitary) conditions, they often develop “environmental enteropathy,” which is just like chronic diarrhea and malabsorption, and they have found changes in the gut epithelium through biopsies. Anyway, I wish I could study my own gut.

WOMENS CONFERENCE 
Last year was the first annual Women’s Conference in Togo. This year, there will be five Women’s Conferences. So, I applied and was selected to help with the Kara/Savannes conference! I’m super excited because I heard last years was wonderful. This year, women from all around the Kara and Savannes regions will come to Kara, stay for a week, learn all about health, money, women’s empowerment, etc etc, and just form a really great support network. This is really rare for women here. Usually men go to conferences and women always stay at home and do allllll the work. They also are the ones who care for family members and the sick, even though they often do not know how to care for the sick. And, they are the ones who can make a huge change in the health of family, just by incorporating good food preparation and handwashing techniques. Anyway, the point is: women are such a good group to work with and I’m super excited about being part of the Womens Conference.

MD/PHD or MD or PHD 
Since June, I have been intensly thinking about what my next move in life will be (after Togo). I am not completely lost; I know I want to do medical research- and, although my interest might change- I would looove to do research involving the gut and nutrition and immunology. However, this may not change; I remember in an interview after my sophomore year of college, I told my interviewer that “I am in love with the digestive system”. That might be a little weird, but at least I know what I like. Anyway, fastforward to now and I am currently interviewing current students and professionals and MDs and PhDs and MDPhDs…. I have met a lot of people and learned a lot of things, but it all just boils down to a few basic facts. (1) an MD is tough, financially costly, and you should like working with patients, and although some MDs do research, it’s more difficult to get into research, and it is much more difficult now to attain a financially stable position (with high tuition fees and all the costs associated with being a doctor) (2) PhD is tough but paid for, and you should like research and science and the lab, it may take awhile and may or may not be incredibly difficult to graduate (depending on your mentor) and find a position (theres a debate about whether or not there is an “overpopulation” of PhDs in the field), it is also reliant on grant writing and constant funding-seeking (3) MD/PhD is tough, will take awhile, is paid for, you should like patients and lab, you should want to do research, may result in you just working as mainly MD or mainly PhD (which some ppl might use to conclude that dual degree is a waste of time), may be the only sure way to get to a tenured faculty position (according to some people..back to the PhD overpopulation debate), may be (debatably) the most secure choice for a research career because you have an MD over the regular PhDs, are associated with other MDPhDs (who are usually leaders in the field), and you have an MD to fall back on-and ppl always need doctors. All options take time (I’m thinking just under a decade, often not including residencies, fellowships, postdocs, etc..), make it difficult to have a family (but doesn’t any job?), and have been described as “you really need to want it, or you’ll drop out”. I just don’t know. When I think about MD, I just really love helping people (as much as I hate how cliché that is). When my Togolese friends-or any friends- talk to me about their medical problems, I want to understand what they have and help them. When there was an awful accident and all the bloody people were carried to the hospital, I really just wanted to help give them stitches and fix their broken bones and see what else is wrong. And just following the medical assistants aroung the hospital, I am always frustrated with my language (they speak Frenchy French as opposed to Togo French) and lack of medical knowledge. When I was in high school, my family witnessed a big car crash. I ran over with my dad (I had just taken a first aid/CPR class) but was so frustrated because I didn’t know what to do. I just heard the guy breathing and it sounded like he was gargling. So often I wish I was a doctor or nurse here. But, on the PhD side of things, I really like the lab and really miss the basic science research articles and discussions and the techniques used to find things- and just all the details and different factors that must be taken into account. It is simpler- like me- and even though the big problem is super complex, you can choose one simple little problem of the big problem and just focus your whole life on that little problem. And I like that. Plus, I really miss electrophoresis gels and microscopes and pipetting. Also, even though I’ve shadowed people and helped out in the hospital here, I think it might be really different in the US, and am not sure if I will like “clinical work” in the US. Then there’s the MD PhD route. But with that, it just takes a lot of time, and many people tell me you end up choosing either to work mainly as an MD or mainly as a PhD- so you still need to choose between the two- unless you’re super human and have no family. Which is a whole other debate. *Sigh*

August-September: da da da daaaa (indiana jones theme song)

August and September were packed with marathon preparations, a mid-service conference for all volunteers, a yam festival, and weeks in village. For most of these months, the indiana jones theme song played in my head, seeing as I was running.

YAM FESTIVAL
In south central Pennsylvania, there is an annual Apple Harvest Festival, complete with beauty pageants, games, and every type of apple food and drink you can imagine. Here in Togo, there is the Yam Fete, celebrating the annual harvest of yams, which are used to make fufu. This year, it took place in Bassar, a city in Western part of the Kara region, near the border with Ghana. Bassar is a gorgeous town surrounded by mountains, and seems to be a bit better-off than other towns, as evidenced by the main paved road lined with sidewalks. The festival lasts all weekend and, like the apple harvest festival, has a beauty pageant “Miss Yam” and multitude of food. However, unlike the apple harvest festival, the yam festival has fire dancing! Overall, the yam festival was very fun- Togolese celebrate alllll night and even after returning from the beauty pageant at 430AM, we could still hear the music and singing from everyone around town.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE MARATHON and GHANA
As the marathon approached, our training runs increased in distance and difficulty. A 16mile training run took Kristine and I through one of the sketchier areas of Lome, where we dodged trucks and women selling bread, awed at the fan milk factory, breathed in fumes from the highway and port, and passed by the ancient German-built railroad tracks. For our 20 mile training run, four of us woke up at 4am and ran to Kara. It was a long way, but we had roughly judged that it was about 20miles. A few of us had pedometers and stopped at the 20 mile mark. However, I had no idea where the 20mile mark was, so I continued running until I reached my friend’s house. It was then that I realized the run had probably been closer to 23 or 24 miles.
Soon we were ready for the marathon, or as ready as we were going to be. We booked the hostel, planned our transport, made T-shirts, and ordered the most fantastic pagne track suits ever. We met in Lome, and the 15 of us walked across the dusty border into Ghana. We approached the wild west of bush taxi stations, found an air-conditioned van amongst the vendors and chauffeurs, and jumped in. As we approached Accra, we began to notice the signs of development: paved roads, sidewalks, lots of building and construction, glass on windows, and many 2-story buildings (extremely rare in Togo), and stores with English signs like “Jesus Daddy” and “No Weapons Cafeteria”. Then, large houses appeared- houses like those in the US! - And then- buildings! Big multi story buildings with glass windows! “So much glass,” I thought. And then- a mall! A shopping mall like in the US! And then- an overpass!! At this point, our van was a riot; we could not believe our eyes. Everyone ooh-ed and ahh-ed and Ben took pictures of the overpass and shopping mall. (I must remember to get a copy.) After arriving at our hostel, we all prepared ourselves to explore this marvelous city called Accra.
I had culture shock so many times during my stay in Accra- whether it was the multistory buildings with glass windows, the suits and ties that business people wore, the Wi-Fi in the hostel, the ceramic plates and pretty presentation at restaurants, the grocery store that had vegetables and cheese, and of course the food: the smoothies, sandwiches, French fries, 3-story KFC, fried chicken, tacos, margaritas, spicy chicken wings, BLT, chocolate milkshake, Panini’s... everything. The most intense culture shock, however, was the shopping mall. Walking in, I had to take slow steps- taking in all the stores- the glass walls reaching to the high ceilings and the tiled floor and air-conditioning. There was even an elevator, but it was broken. We saw a movie-Contagion- in a Western style movie theater with popcorn and soda and I completely forgot I was in Africa. But when movie ended and the lights turned on, we began to leave the theater and returned to the real world.

THE MARATHON
The marathon was difficult. We woke at 3-something AM and sleepily hopped into a van that (after some confusion) took us to the starting line. Then, about an hour after the official start time, we were instructed to line up across the highway. The race photographer was there and held out his hand to the approaching cars, indicating that they should stop so that we may begin the race. Once it was clear that the cars would stop, the race gun went off, jolting everyone to begin running. We ran and ran- first along the highway, taking care to avoid the cars and trucks that whizzed by, then through a shipping area, then a dusty dirt road with no shoulder at all, then along the side of a busy market and bush taxi stopping area, where we were forced to dodge Marché mamas, drivers, bush taxis, and take care not to fall in the random holes in the sidewalk. People would drive by and hand out water bottles or bags, but as the race progressed, their handouts became rarer and eventually stopped altogether. The final part of the race a guy started running with me, putting ear buds in my ears in an effort to convince me to buy his cd. I ignored him, thinking if I just ran long enough, he would eventually get the idea. But, my legs started severely cramping, so much that I could not run. So, he stuck around, trying in vain to massage my legs whenever they cramped up again, and I walked/hobbled the rest of the race. At the very end, I met up with Kristine and began jogging again. But just a few yards from the finish line, my legs cramped up completely. An old guy saw this and told me to stomp really hard. So, I started stomping/marching in pain to the finish line. This worked a bit, and the cramp lessened enough to cross the finish line, where I deliriously drank water and ate a banana and I had prepared the night before. I had been so hot (there was no shade during the race) and dehydrated (they ran out of water during the race) that I was completely exhausted and drained and almost delirious. When the music guy asked me for money, I just burst into tears. But, I had injured my back the day before, and crying seemed to pull on this injury, causing more pain – which for some reason caused me to laugh- which also hurt my back. Finally I was able to calm down, rest up, and soon left the area with my friends. That night we all went to Champs in Accra and celebrated with American tex mex food, and watched real football on a big screen.

HOPE THROUGH HEALTH
Marathoners raised money for Hope through Health by running the marathon. Hope through health is the organization that sponsors Association Espoir pour Demain (AED). AED is based in Kara, but there is a satellite in Kante; I probably work with them more than any other group. They provide assistance for people living with HIV/AIDS. It would be scary to find out you are HIV+ in any country, regardless of economic status. But here, in Togo, to be poor and learn that you have an incurable disease that will use up all your finances, take your energy and ability to work, and leave your family with nothing, is worse than death. Medicines and Doctors visits are expensive when you make less than $1/day, and when you add in the fact that you are pretty much guaranteed to be sick again relatively soon, the will -and logistical ability- to live disappears. AED, with the support of HTH, provides so much for patients here (nutritional kits, medications, medical exams, counseling) and I would not want to see a Togo without them, where patients are left to fend for themselves. So, I want to say thank you sooo much to those of you who donated. If you’re curious or would like to donate: HTH’s website is: http://hthglobal.org/

NEW VOLUNTEERS
In August, the new volunteers swore in and moved to their villages. I went to the ceremony in Lome, which brought back many memories from one year ago, when my stage swore in. Then, in September, new trainees arrived from the US. This is the last new group to arrive before the June group who will replace me. It is strange knowing that the next new Americans here will be here to replace us. But, c’est la vie.
Poppy and Qui sait
My dog puppy is quite a big dog now, much bigger than other Togolese dogs; I think it is because I feed him whatever I am eating, which is much more nutritious than the leftover scraps that are fed to Togolese dogs. He is also incredibly clumsy and awkward. He often knocks things over (candles, books, chairs) when he is trying to scratch a tough-to-reach spot on his back. Sometimes when he yawns, he moves his mouth so that is surrounding an object (such as my computer), and then when he finished his yawn and begins to close his mouth, he finds that he is biting something. The neighbors know Poppy as the “bandit” because he gets in trouble all the time. He kills some guinea fowl, which is a very serious crime and usually results in the death of the dog. And, now that rainy season is here, he has been swimming and rolling in all the mud puddles. Qui sait, the neighbor’s dog, is referred to as Poppy’s “apprenti” (aka bandit in training) around the neighborhood. Qui sait is much smaller, but follows Poppy everywhere and chases chickens and guinea fowl and all other small creatures. They both love my house and hang out at my house all day; they also love attention. Right now, Poppy is trying to stop my hands from typing and begin scratching his head, which makes it really difficult for me to type. Usually, Qui sait comes up and tries to get attention too by trying to jump over Poppy. Unfortunately, he was hit by a car and has a broken leg.

BAT
One day, I was cooking dinner in my kitchen by candlelight when I saw a shadow move by the ceiling. This didn’t bother me much, because the candles always create weird moving shadows. But, Poppy and Qui sait and the cat Buster suddenly started making a lot of commotion and ran out of the room. I stopped cooking, and then saw the shadow enter and quickly leave the kitchen again, followed by the two dogs and cat. Suddenly, I realized it was a bat. I ran out of my house, still holding the fork that I was cooking with, and ran to my neighbors, who were eating outside of their house. “There is a …” I couldn’t remember the name for bat; I knew it was something like the name for mouse. “There is a mouse that goes like this in my house!” I said, waving my arms to indicate the wings of the bat. The kids jumped up and ran towards my house, screaming “I will kill it!” I ran after them, followed by their mother and aunt. One kid had a machete, another had my broom, and the third was just running around empty-handed as I nervously jumped and shrieked every time the bat flew by me. The chase went on for a few minutes, with the kids running around and the adults opening and closing doors to try and direct the bat out of the house. Finally, the bat zoomed out and we closed the doors and everyone left to return to their dinner.

CHANGES
I often think about how I’ve changed from when I was in the USA, and am always surprised and intrigued by all the changes. First of all, I am super awkward now. When Togolese get together, they often can sit and stare and say nothing for minutes-or hours- at a time. I remember how I felt so awkward in these situations when I first arrived, but now I do the exact same thing. I am also mean and impolite now. I will yell at kids and tell them to leave, demand people “give me this”, “take this” without saying please, and will purposefully ignore people who bother me. The meanness comes from how easy it is to be walked over here, and the rudeness comes from the way language works here (no one says “please” in Lamba). Another change is my patience. I have always considered myself a patient person – but, I know I have just become more patient here. Another change is that I don’t see poverty anymore. The rags that people wear as clothing I see as clothing, not as rags.

TELEPHONE
Ring Ring Ring Ring! “Hello?” “Hi How are you?” “I am fine how are you?” “Fine. How is the family?” “Fine and how’s work?” “Fine and -” oops! Phone credit ran out, ending the race of a conversation. This conversation has happened again and again here. A convergence of affordable cell phones with their pay-as-you-go plans and Togolese culture of long greetings has led to these strange speedy phone conversations. Most people in my town have a cell phone, but usually do not have “credit” currently on their phone to make a phone call. When they do have credit, it is a small amount, only enough for a couple seconds of conversation. So, when they call, they speed through the necessary greetings and try to get to the point of the conversation before credit runs out.

UNEXPECTED VISITORS
I got a call one day from a man who was a Benin peace corps volunteer 25 years ago. He was traveling around the world with his wife and son, and was planning to reach Kante the following day. I agreed to meet them and show them around a bit. The next day, I ran into them, and we began our tour of Kante. The room in the auberge was a bit too small for the three of them, so I decided to host them at my house. A few hours later, Travis called and asked to spend the night; he had left too late from Kara to get back in time. So, we had a full house! I made a really tasty dinner of taco salad and pasta with tofu and then we all sat around and talked. It was definitely one of the most memorable evenings I’ve had here- it felt sort of like three generations all in one room – the husband and wife, the little boy, and Travis and I.

DEAD YOVO
So, you know every outfit and T-shirt and prom dress that gets tossed into second hand shops and goodwill? If nobody purchases them, they eventually end up in huge overstuffed bags, piled onto ships that sail into the Togo port (and I'm sure many other ports). Through the market women, the clothing somehow gets distributed all over the country, so there is always a huge selection of clothing from the 80s. There is so much stuff that I'm tempted to buy, especially shiny bright prom dresses with puffy sleeves.

JULY: c'est comme-ci comme-ca

JULY

July has been the comme-ci comme-ca month. At the end of June, a month packed with travels and work, I returned to Kante with nothing on my schedule except figuring out what to do with my life and getting back on track with training for the marathon. I've found it to always be a bit difficult returning home and "getting into the swing of things";every time I return, it is a bit like I'm entering Kante for the first time. Usually, however, after a day of cleaning up from traveling and walking around town, I'm back to my (somewhat) normal schedule. However, this time, upon return from my super trip of June, it seemed extra difficult. Rainy season was officially here and everyone was out in the fields every day, students were away on their summer vacation, and my motivation level just plummeted while my feeling of jadedness soared. After over a week of this, I caught a bush taxi to Kara (the big city), met up with some fellow volunteers, and realized that we had, individually, been experiencing the same emotional and motivational "rut". "Mid-service depression", we named it. We had been here a year, hadn't done anything big, only have a year left, felt useless, and this is all compounded by the fact that it is rainy season and everyone is in the fields so its that much more difficult to find people to do something with. After realizing other volunteers were experiencing mid service depression, I felt a hundred times better. (Which of course is how I always feel when I hear of others suffering.. Haha..jk). I returned to Kante still in a rut, but with the knowledge that it is a mid-service rut that is not bottomless (like the bottomless bowl of pasta at that restaurant at Penn state that I miss...). So, bit by bit, July started to get better. I realized that not *all* of the students had gone on vacation, and I also started studying (GRE and MCAT), reading, biking, cooking, and running a ton.

WEDDING
My cluster mate Travis and I were invited to a wedding of one of our friends' relatives. Weddings are a bit rare here. Usually, a couple just lives together and has children, foregoing the wedding ceremony due to its high costs. One time at the hospital, a women arrived for a prenatal consultation. During the course of her registration, as usual, she gave her name and her partner's name. When we heard that they had the same name, everyone in the vicinity gave a surprised "wow". I had never been to a wedding in Togo, much less a Muslim wedding and was super excited. We left my house on our way to the wedding, not really knowing where to go. Our friend had told us it was the big mosque in town, but there are a few big mosques in town. We decided to head towards the center of town, thinking we would figure out where the wedding was somehow. Sure enough, we ran into a few guys who were all dressed in identical clothes - a sure sign that they were involved in some type of celebration- and found out that they were indeed going to the wedding. We walked with them towards the mosque, hearing the music as we approached. I was a bit nervous, wondering if I should have worn a veil like all the Muslim women, and where I should go and if there was any specific protocol. Luckily, our friend met us and guided us as we took off our shoes and entered the mosque. A large room with many fans, mats, and men sitting in plastic chairs greeted us. I sat beside Travis as my friend instructed, even though, looking around, I saw only men in this main room. All the women were behind a divider. We greeted the men around us, noticing than many people were from out of town, and many people were rich. There was one guy who was actually overweight- probably obese- it was so strange to see such a large man; I realized I hadn't seen an obese man since I was in the US. Soon, the ceremony commenced. A guy got up and started talking and singing. He was followed by another guy and another guy. During each song, people would walk up and drop money into a bowl. I hadn't been expecting this, so had only brought one bill with me. As I walked up and dropped my bill into the bowl, I looked down to see all these foreign bills! I was so confused! We were in Togo- where, as far as I know, only one form of currency is used. But, regardless of what the currency was, they still accepted my West African CFA and I returned to my seat, anticipating the next part of the wedding ceremony. But, the next part never came; there was a bit more singing, and then everyone left. I never was able to see the bride or figure out which man was the groom. Our friend found us in the crowd and guided us into a car which then drove to a walled in compound with chairs and tables. We were seated and then served A TON of food. Lots of rice with cabbage and beef, bissap juice and citron juice, and then, when I thought I couldn't eat anymore, black pate with sauce and beef skin. As we left, we realized our friend hadn't shown up to eat and began to wonder if we were in the right place. Sure enough, when we passed by his house, he was waiting there, wondering where we had gone. Entering his compound, people all turned and looked at us, greeting and offering food. After explaining that we had eaten at the wrong house, we stayed a bit to have a drink and say hi to everyone and then left. I was so full as I walked all the way home, I felt like a penguin waddling away with a full belly.

WEIRD INFECTION OF THE MONTH: ABSCESSES!
I get heat rash a lot. It comes and goes - usually on my thigh just above my knee- and is more annoying certain times compared to other times, but overall, I am used to it. However, at the end of June/beginning of July, a couple of the heat rash pimple type things, started to get pink and ooze. I had it pretty much under control, though. I would wash it twice a day and keep it covered with triple antibiotic ointment and a Band-Aid, and soon it would heal and go away. Another one would soon appear though, and after a few weeks of this infected heat rash cycle, a lump started to grow just above my knee. It turned reddish purple and became really hot and painful. "Its just another infected heat rash, I thought. But, one day, after doing my fourteen mile training run, this lump seemed to gush out through an opening in the skin. For a few days pus and blood just oozed out and a second lump began to form and ooze. I called the med unit, who informed me it was an abscess, and after making sure it wasn't a life threatening thing, gave me instructions on what care and treatment I should take. So, within a week, it was pretty much all better! This whole process lasted the whole month of July. It is right now just finishing healing, still looking a bit gross, but feeling fine.

FOUR YEARS FROM THIRTY
I am 26 years old now, which is weird, because when I was in high school, my field hockey jersey was #27 and I remember thinking how old and knowledgeable and put-together I would be at age 27 (which is currently just one year away). Also, I don't feel 26 at all; I feel like I'm 23 or 24. This must be because I went skydiving when I was that age and I want to go skydiving again. Not really- instead, I think the reason is that I am currently choosing between med school and grad school, which is a junction that most people on that career path reach when they are younger. But, regardless, here I am at 26. The exciting thing is that I will be running the 26.2 miles of the marathon when I am 26.2 years old. My birthday was a fun, but very chill and laid back day. Travis and Alisha (my cluster mates) biked to my house and we all went out for a beer and then began making egg rolls! (Alisha and I had been wanting to make egg rolls for awhile now). We feasted on egg rolls and tchouk before going to get a beer with Papa (my landlord) and The Blind Man (we never remember his name). We then returned home and bought goat meat and pasta and rice for all my neighbors to eat! It was fantabulous and they loved it.

RAINY DAYS AND MONDAYS
We are officially into rainy season. Apparently, rainy season came late this year. It would rain a bit in May and June, but there were still be about a week between rains. It wasn't until July when rainy season really picked up. Now, it rains every few days and sometimes everyday. I love the rain and have not loved the rain so much ever in my life. I love how dark clouds creep up from the west, blanketing the Tamberma Valley and soon the distant rain hides the mountains from view. And then, before you know it, the wind picks up and the static noise of rain hitting tin roofs gets louder and louder until its hitting your own tin roof, so loud that it sounds like an avalanche of rocks instead of the tiny raindrops that they are.

BLAST FROM THE PAST
Since I first moved to Kante, I have been told stories about all the past Peace Corps volunteers who have lived in here. One had a dog like mine, and made Togolese-style clothes for her dog. Another rode his bike EVERYWHERE, rode to Kara and Sokode and Lome (hundreds of kilometers). Another was quite the partier and would come back from travels hung over, and another loooved kids. I often wonder how true these characteristics and stories are and how I will be described when I leave. Anyway, the volunteer who biked a lot has been brought up again and again in conversations, and I eventually got the impression that he was a super volunteer who could succeed at everything and became everyone's favorite person. So, when I heard that he was returning to Kante for a visit, I felt a bit intimidated to meet this all-star volunteer, but curious to hear his stories. So, I waited anxiously for his arrival. One evening, around the time he had mentioned he would visit Kante, I received a call from my friend inviting me to dinner. When I showed up at his house, I was surprised to see that the normal place where we ate together was not prepared; instead another room, decorated with tablecloths and pretty plates and silverware, was prepared. The former volunteer and his friend were there too! We talked all about Kante and Peace Corps Togo- the changes and similarities. Apparently Kante has not changed much. There is a new restaurant and a new road sign thing, but besides that, the same ladies are selling the same things as they were 6 years ago, the same trash, dust, and gorgeous mountains, and the same culture of course. Talking to him, I found out he wasn't a super volunteer; he was a normal volunteer who had challenges like everyone else and didn't end up working on exactly what he was selected for-which is a part of my experience that has been sometimes frustrating. He visited my house, which apparently has changed a lot. The landlord "Papa" built new buildings and a wall since he was here, and the decorations of my house are much more "homely" than his. He ate most of the same things I eat and did many of the same hobbies I do (biking, running, reading, writing). I was really happy to talk to him and cant imagine what it was like for him to come back and see what used to be his home.

DA DA DA DAAA DA DA DAAA DA DA DA DAAA DA DA DAA DAA DAAA.. (INDIANA JONES)
I have never seen the movie Indiana Jones. (I actually saw about 5 minutes of it in French, but then the electricity got cut off and I fell asleep before it started again.) But regardless, that does not prevent me from humming that song whenever I run. Specifically, during the last mile of my run, da da da daaa starts playing through my head as I envision myself tearing through the last mile of uphill. It never fails. Besides finishing to the music of Indiana Jones, my favorite part of the run is the half way point of the 6 mile run. At this point, I have run three miles West, am at the top of a hill, and turn around to see the just-risen sun mounting the sky. "Here comes the sun" instantaneously begins running through my head as the whole three miles back, I watch the sun get higher and higher in the sky, often producing spectacular rays through the rainy season clouds.

I WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT HIS NAME IS
"Je connais! Je connais!" My neighbors yell that all the time at the baby. I just figured it was what they liked to do - maybe one of those common Togolese french phrases- maybe something that everyone yells at babies- like how everyone always makes ridiculous facial expressions when looking at a baby. After about 5months of listening to "Je connais Je connais!", however, I realized that they were yelling this particular phrase to the baby for a reason. That is his name! I thought. I had asked his name a couple times when I first arrived but never remembered it, always just calling him baby. So, now I know what his name is, which is good timing because, at about 1.5 years old, he is curious and walking and has the potential to get into trouble.

CYRILLE
Cyrille is one of my favorite people here. He is a university student who, when not at university in Kara, lives in Kante. When he is here, he has been my french tutor and we usually end up talking about food. He showed me how to make rice and beans and I showed him how to make macaroni and cheese. He studies linguistics and loaves talking about different languages. I have been in the process of teaching him pig Latin. Anyway, he is in the process of defending his memoir, which is basically like a thesis. I read it, and although did not understand much of it (I really realized how much spoken French I know compared to written French) and I am so proud of him. He did an in-depth analysis of how the Lamba language can be used to express emotions and plurality. Even though I didn't understand it all, I just can't imagine all the work it took to do that - here in Togo! First off, barely anyone knows how to type - I have just started teaching some kids in the English club (who are in their final year of high school - like 17/18 years old!) and they have nooo idea how to type. I can't imagine the work going into typing a 100 page thesis that includes all those strange Lamba characters. Also, he had so many pages of references, found all these random books and reports written about the Lamba language- I had no idea the Lamba language had been researched! Anyway, I was just a bit blown away by his memoir. I had helped him fund this Lamba research project, and was happy to see my name "Mary Mafisa" in the thank you section. Soon, he will report back to Kara where he will meet a board of professors who will talk about his memoir and he may have to make changes before he can officially graduate. I asked him what he wants to do after graduation. Asking anyone here what they want to do "when they grow up" makes you feel really lucky to be from the USA. He wants to continue research and continue work in linguistics-which would be totally plausible in the US - and he would be an excellent hardworking and smart candidate. But here in Togo- you can't do research. You need money first. And its not like in the US where there are grants and universities and government and private organizations who want to fund things. Here there is nothing beyond who you know. So if you know rich people- if you are in a wealthy family, then go for it! But if you don't, you are sort of stuck. You can be a doctor/medical assistant/nurse, a police officer, a teacher. We are so lucky to have loans and grants; especially being in science. None of my university years would have happened - there are no educational loans available here. And my first job would not have happened- Togo isn't exactly No.1 in terms of science funding. But, you know- little by little. I hope things improve here in Togo for the Togolese citizens. Regardless I am just (1) super thankful to be American, (2) sad for all the potential that is lost due to funding here in Togo, and (3) super proud of Cyrille because he's come so far, little by little, and I hope we can find a way so he can go further.

THOSE WHO TALK DON'T EAT
In the US, dinner conversations are expected. Meal times are social times, often one of the only moments in the day when family or friends or coworkers can come together and talk about whatever is on their mind. In fact, we often arrange reunions with friends or meetings at work in the context of a meal (coffee with a friend or lunchtime meeting). Here this is not so; meal times are silent. I can always tell when my neighbors are eating because the talking, shouting, and crying that is inevitable in any household with 4 kids and a baby, ceases.

CLUB ESPOIR
Club Espoir has been one of the activities I do, regardless of how busy or not busy I am. It is a monthly meeting for kids living with or affected by HIV/AIDS. Every month, a different theme is reflected upon through the games, songs, and discussions of that day. Every volunteer who shows up regularly gets placed with about 6-10 kids of a specific age group. My group is called "the silver snakes" and is known among the volunteers as the troublemakers. While everyone else is gathering their group to begin a game or discussion, the members of my group are nowhere to be found. However, I love them. Once they are found and gathered, they are a great group. Just recently, they acted out a couple of skits. My favorite one was on the theme "the environment" which opens to the scene of a kid throwing a plastic bag of poop into his neighbors compound. The neighbor and kid get in a fight that continues throughout the ends dramatically when the chief of the village explains how it is not good to throw plastic bags of poop in your neighbor's compound because poop should go in a latrine and plastic bags should be contained with other trash and that we should respect the environment because we need it and it is like our friend. Quite a marvelous skit, I thought, even though it was a round-about way of getting to the moral. But, that is why I love my trouble-making club Espoir kids.

EVALA
Togo is made up of many different ethnic groups, each with their own slight variations of celebrations. The Kabye people just south of me, in the areas surrounding Kara have a celebration called Evala, which marks the coming of age of boys. During this celebration, villages get together and have a huge wrestling tournament, when boys from each neighborhood, then village, wrestle each other. It is a huge deal; and the president of Togo, Faure, even flew with his helicopter onto the celebration area. I saw one of the semifinals, which was still incredibly crowded, with seemingly every woman in village selling tchouk or food and every other person crowding around the field of wrestling.


Random text message from Travis: Eat an ear for me.
(I had told him that there was grilled corn in Kante a day before...I received the text message a day later and was really confused until I remembered the grilled corn)

One Year In Togo

June started off with a bang that never seemed to diminish. Mosquito nets, Carla's departure, the concert, a conference, training, and camp somehow all fit into the month of June.

ASEDA - PEACE PAL MOSQUITO NET DISTRIBUTION
Akanto with his NGO ASEDA sought out a partnership with Peace Pals, a group in the US, to bring and distribute mosquito nets to a couple villages near Kante. So, for about a week, community health workers were given the task of going house to house and determining how many mosquito nets each household had, if they were in good condition, and seeing if the residents knew how to use them. We saw many mosquito nets that were covered in holes and rips, and some that had been intentionally ripped and re-sewn to use as tablecloths or other decorations. Each family who needed mosquito nets then came to the school where we distributed new nets and gave demonstrations on how to use them correctly.

AED BENEFIT CONCERT
There was an outdoor concert organized to benefit AED. It had been planned to involve singing and dancing, speeches, and skits. The night of the concert, everyone packed into the enclosed outdoor area, and then, it began to rain. People pushed their way into the small adjacent room for shelter from the rain and everyone started to sing and dance. It was packed and hot, but so much fun. When the rain stopped, we returned outside to continue with the program, but soon the rain started again. For three hours, we went inside, then outside, then inside again, trying to continue with the concert, but also escape the rain.

GOODBYE CARLA
Carla, my sitemate, left Kante and returned to the US. It will be strange without her here. Usually when I make something tasty or just need a beer or a place to chill out, I always met up with her. So, now I am the only American in my town, which is good and bad. I will miss having another American to talk with and share things with. But, I will probably integrate even more into the community.

ONE YEAR ALREADY?
I have been in Togo for one year. It honestly does not feel like one whole year. The new people have arrived and it is strange to view myself as the experienced volunteer, the older one who can guide the new people.

BEHAVIOR CHANGE CONFERENCE
There is a new method of analyzing behavior change, which incorporates determining what the needs of a community are, which behaviors are associated with those needs, which group of people does the behavior, why they do it or don't do it, and creating methods to change the behavior. Anyway, I learned about this with some other volunteers and my friend/homologue Florence during a conference that encompassed a week. It was the most intense conference I had been to yet here. My brain was exhausted. It was very theoretical - and in French - and the combination of theory and high level French was exhausting. But, it was incredibly interesting and peace corps is going to start incorporating these methods into training here in Togo.

CAMP ESPOIR- TOT
Every "summer" (there isn't really a season called summer here), kids who have HIV/AIDS or have been affected (e.g. orphaned) by someone who has HIV/AIDS are given the opportunity to participate in a week of American-style camp. They play games, learn about health, business, and gender equality, share stories, and - of course the best part - make and eat caramel popcorn. Camp starts off with a week of training for the camp counselors, teachers, med staff, and jeune leaders. So, in mid June, I got together with volunteers and Togolese from all over the country. It was a super intense but incredibly fun week. I had not yet experienced a conference where volunteers and trainers meshed so well (usually, when volunteers get together, we have the bad habit of sticking together (and unconsciously ignoring our Togolese counterparts) because we are able to speak English and catch up and talk about random things). But, this training was completely different; we planned everything together, had discussions, and shared games and songs. By the end of each day, I was so tired of French that I couldn't speak correctly. In the evenings, there were movies available to watch. One night, I watched Jurassic Park, in French. It was so hilarious watching it alongside the Togolese counterparts. Whenever a dinosaur popped out of the background, she would say "bonne arrivee" (good arrival/welcome) and whenever a dinosaur was about to eat someone, she would say "bonne appetite!". She basically added this hilarious commentary to the whole movie, and I don't think I ever laughed so much while watching Jurassic Park. Towards the end of the week, I organized a soccer match between everyone from the north and everyone from the south. I had to convince a few people to play, but soon we had enough for a team. The day of the match, however, arrived with bulked up dark clouds and soon rain began to fall. People still showed up, though, and even when it the nice rain turned to a downpour, almost everyone kept on playing. I was slipping in sliding in the mud, almost everyone got scratched up in some way, and one guy cut his eyebrow and needed stitches (without anesthetic). As the game tied up, the Togolese got really serious about winning- and I don't think they were too fond of the laughing that all the Americans were doing. Also, a rainbow appeared in the sky, and many times, I was caught off guard by my opponent because I had been staring at the rainbow. (It was the first rainbow I've seen in Togo). The game was still tied when we left for dinner (I scored!).

CAMP ESPOIR
Months before camp, I was excited and ready to get involved in Camp Espoir. As preparations began and volunteers started signing up for specific activities, I joined in and signed up to be camp counselor for the youngest boys. Great, I thought, I will get to play soccer and be outdoors all the time. But, as the start of Camp Espoir approached, these thoughts changed to thoughts of: What did I get myself into. I began contemplating the fact that I grew up surrounded with sisters and female cousins, and had no interaction with boys. How will I deal with a bunch of little boys running around? What will I do if they are like the kid who, in a fit of rage, threw watermelon at my cat? Needless to say, nervousness was starting to build up. But, when I arrived and began collecting my boys and talking with them, I began to realize it might not be so bad. There were six boys in my cabin. One kid, Michel, began crying right away because he was homesick, but once he calmed, he proved to be the cutest kid of all. He was much smaller than all the other kids, and when we played soccer, he would mindlessly sprint after the ball, regardless of which team was in possession. Then, he would look at me, waiting for me to say good job. Adams, another boy, was a great artist. I had brought coloring books and would pull them out whenever we had a few minutes to spare, and they would color. Adams, however, began copying the coloring book drawings into his notebook. He could draw Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse better than I ever could! Everyday was a marathon. Masoumi smiled all the time and was happy with anything. Ericsone was the bossy kid, who seemed to think he knew everything, and Eric was sort of the peace maker of whatever conflict there was. Fazazi did not speak French well and barely ever talked or participated. Watching the kids, preparing educational presentations (hygiene, nutrition, sexual health), and taking care of whatever administrative things needed taking care of meant that from 5am to 10pm, I was up and about, busy doing something. My favorite time of the whole camp were free times, where everyone in the cabin would do something together, whether it was coloring, play soccer, ping pong, or Frisbee. One free time in particular, all my boys ran out towards the soccer field only to find it occupied by the older boys. That didn't intimidate them, though. They decided that my boys, the Jungle, could play against the older boys, the Mountains. All the little jungle boys took there place on the field and faced the significantly older and taller mountain boys and the game began. My boys were so into it- running and yelling. Bossy Ericsone was shouting instructions to everyone, and little Michel was just sprinting after the ball the whole time. Whenever the ball flew out of bounds and far away down the hill, Michel would be the only one sprinting after it, so excited to have possession of the ball for once. Mealtimes were also fun and interesting. The boys were not used to using forks and spoons and would have the most difficult time eating macaroni and salad. As the week continued, however, some tension began to grow. Fazazi, who did not speak French well began to get violent. He seemed to be easily provoked and would punch kids in response instead of speaking. Thankfully, my jeune leader Boug, who was also with the cabin, dealt with any problems. At the end of the week, we had a dance party. It was so much fun; every group- the teenagers dressed up nicely to the little kids who were just having fun, all the jeune leaders and volunteers all spent the hour dancing. Before I knew it, the week ended and everyone was going home.

I ATE ANTS
During camps and trainings, schedules are always packed, leaving little room for training for a marathon. But a couple of us decided to try to stick with the training schedule and got up at 4:50 one morning to run 10 miles before the training session began. The run was great, but when we returned, we realized the training session had been rescheduled to start earlier. So, we quickly ate some of the breakfast, showered and changed. I was still hungry and, as I left the room to go to the training center, grabbed a croissant I had in my bag and began eating. It tasted a little strange, but I didn't let that phase me. After I had eaten about half of it, I looked down at the croissant and saw that it was covered in ants! I had been eating ants! I had been in such a rush that I hadn't even noticed!

HOSPITALS
My friend Florence is in the hospital in Kara and has been there for over a week. Hospitals here are not like they are in the US. When you become a patient in the hospital, you are given a bed in a room full of beds, and that it is. You must provide your own sheets for the bed, and find your own food during your stay and do your own laundry. So, usually when someone becomes a patient in the hospital, their family and friends care for them. When walking through a hospital, and glancing into rooms, you will see the beds, and then beside each bed and lining the walls, will be the family and friends of the person along with their clothes and food supplies, all brought from the home or bought near the hospital. It is not a very comforting place at all, so I stopped to visit Florence when I was in Kara. I hope she gets better soon and can leave the hospital.

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE
Lately, I have been thinking much about what I am going to do with my life. I know that I am living my life now, obviously, and am working here in Togo, but it will end soon- in a year. And, I need to decide what to do afterwards. Initially, I had planned to go directly to grad school afterwards to obtain my Ph.D. doing research in nutrition and immunology. But, lately I have been having doubts and second thoughts. I have been hearing that Ph.D. "isn't what it used to be" regarding the value that it holds, and that it is becoming more difficult to find mentors and labs that can support you, as well as a satisfying job afterwards. So, I've been considering going to school for M.D. or the combination M.D./PhD. degree. With that, you can do research still, but there is more job security I believe. So, right now, I am in the throws of this decision making process. I have been studying everyday for either the GRE or MCAT or both, depending on the day, and I've been looking at application processes to mentally prepare for whichever path I choose. But in the end, I just need to choose.

Why does a hippo fan out his poop?

May 2011: WHY A HIPPO FANS ITS POOP


MAY 1: LABOR DAY
Labor Day here is a super holiday, celebrated with as much food and drink as Christmas and even New Years. People get together with their coworkers, all wearing the same pagne (the same design on the fabric of their clothes) to eat, drink, and dance. A couple people asked me how May 1 was celebrated in the U.S. They were surprised when I said that May 1 wasn't Labor Day in the US and even more surprised when I told them we don't do anything super exciting and special for labor day, apart from not going to work and spending time with friends and/or family. Anyway, I had never imagined that Labor Day (one of the those rather overlooked holidays in the US) would be celebrated with such vigor here in Togo.

THE END OF SCHOOL
School is in the process of ending. It seems to take a long time to end, it seemed to have been ending since the past month, which confused me at first. The students are in classes anymore; instead, they are either taking exams or have free days while their peers take exams. It's been a little confusing figuring out the schedule, so my work with students has diminished quite a bit this month. The girls soccer club is still going, although some days there are only 2 or 3 girls (due to exams) while other days there are 15! English club has also been variable. I have met with a few students who I am closer with for more personal tutoring/practicing English, but we have not had an official club meeting all month. I hope that this next month, the official end of school might bring more regularity with student groups.

LETTER WRITING
Awhile ago, my cousin had her students write letters to students here. I had been working with an English teacher here to find a suitable class to read the letters and write back as pen pals, and soon, I received the return letters, all ready to send back to the states. The letters were so cute! Some students wrote:
"I enjoy seeing your handwriting" , "Dear Pen pal, Good morning Emma. I'm your new friend. I now know your name, Emma. My name is Jean Baptice, and I like rice." "I don't have electricity. Have you? I like fufu, rice, and yams. What food do you like? I don't have a TV and a computer. I talk English. I have a real desk. I don't know spongebob. I don't know ice cream."

BUMPS and BRUISES
Once in awhile, someone in my family here will get a scratch, like Maxime, who was playing soccer barefoot on rocks, missed the ball, and kicked a rock. Ouch. Anyway, he came crying and we patched it up with special spongebob Band-Aids that my mom sent. Ever since then, he has loooved getting cuts. He loves Band-Aids. Almost every night, he mentions how he cut himself really badly that day, but when I look for his "cut", it is not to be found. He still insists it is there and that he needs one of the spongbob Band-Aids to fix it.

LIQUID SOAP
AED (Association Espoir pour Demain) in Kante is an NGO that assists PLWHAs (persons living with HIV/AIDS). They provide medical and psychological counseling, meds for opportunistic infections, nutritional kits and a good support network. Anyway, they had long been wanting to learn how to learn to make liquid soap as a way to earn additional income for the group. So, before showing them, I did a practice round with the neighbors kids. SOooo much fun. It reminded me of Pippy Longstockings, specifically the scene when everyone has sponges/mops on there feet and are sliding/dancing all around the room. I had always wanted to do something like that, and liquid soap was the way to go. Of course, some of the soap spilled, and of course, once Maxime took one step onto the soapy surface with that trouble-maker look in his eye, all craziness broke loose. Soon, the kids were sliding and dancing around all over my front porch. A few weeks later, I prepared the liquid soap with the members of AED. Although it was not as fun as with the kids, it was still successful and they are now selling the product.

TURTLE HANDS
One day, I walked out, and there were a few clouds in the sky! This may not seem incredibly exciting to you, but after the constant interminable sun of April, a cloud is very exciting because it means there is somewhere where it is not sunny.. Plus, I hadn't seen a cloud in awhile. Some time after viewing this cloud, it began to rain! And it was a freaking super huge thunderstorm, with wind that destroyed houses and rain that flooded streets and fields. It was so strange to see puddles of water, and sooo exciting to just be able to throw a bucket outside and collect water instead of worrying about where my water was going to come from next (our water pump had been turned off for a few weeks). So, this thunderstorm passed, and a few more random ones came and went, but soon, the storms began to come more frequently. Now, clouds appear almost every day. But, even though the clouds provide relief from the sun, it is still hot season, and does not yet rain enough to be rainy season. Instead, we are left with the hot weather of hot season, but the humidity of rainy season. Instead of the sweat evaporating off of me, I am super sweaty. Sometimes, my hands and fingers get all wrinkly like turtle hands, not from washing or swimming, just from sweat that constantly covers me! In fact, as I am typing this now, my hands are turtle hands - all wrinkly due to the sweat they are covered in.

WELCOME BACK MOSQUITOS!
So, now the rains have started and mosquitoes have begun to proliferate. I am being bitten more, which is reminding me that I need to use mosquito repellent, something I didn't need often during dry seasons. There are many more suspected and confirmed cases of malaria at the hospital. You can see at the hospital lab the lines of blood stained slides ready to be analyzed for the presence of the malaria causing Plasmodium falciparum parasite. Now, the work to combat malaria is being made more apparent. In June, mosquito nets will be distributed in the villages surrounding Kante. In addition to these provided through the minister of health, Akanto has also partnered I made PeacePals, a group in the US, to distribute and discuss mosquito nets. I made neem lotion with my family and am planning to make it with a women's group here in town. Neem is a type of tree, and the leaves, when boiled, release an odorous chemical that deters mosquitoes. So, there is a lotion recipe that utilizes this handy little property; my predecessor made this lotion and I am continuing it; don't want those mosquitoes!

p.s. I have a bug bite in my armpit.

MY MOM's BIRTHDAY
Like all holidays, I celebrated my mom's birthday in Togo a bit differently than I would if I was home in the US. It was thankfully a cool day. I had some good pate (similar to polenta, but with no spices and squishier and eaten with hands) with baobab leaf and gumbo sauce (aka snot sauce) and then I made a cake. At night, I made super fancy hot chocolate with the powdered milk that never completely dissolves and all the special godiva liquors and baileys and kahlua that my mom sent. So, happy birthday mom!

BAKING SPREE
In the US, I loooooved to bake cakes, breads, cookies, anything really. All the time, I was either baking or finishing what I had baked. When I got to Togo, I stopped all baking; how could I without an oven and the proper ingredients? But, I found out about a "dutch oven", which is a basically a large pot and lid that functions as an oven. So, I bought my large pot and lid,, poured some water in the bottom, placed three inch-tall tin cans to prop up my "baking pan", and began cooking! Once you make the dough, you can place it in any metal pan or bowl that is small enough to fit into your big pot, place the lid on, and throw the whole pot and lid with pan contraption on the stove or over charcoal or wood or anything with fire and let it cook! So I did this, and soon had a incredibly tasty chocolate cake in my hands. Wow, I thought. I unknowingly released the former baking spree person that I was. I was soon baking cakes, brownies, and breads! In the middle of this, my mom sent blueberry muffin mix, and a ton of those sample-size liquors. With this I began making rum brownies, grand marnier cake, and blueberry muffins (just not in muffin form). And, I started to teach my Togolese friend Poline here how to bake too!

BENIN!: LAND OF THE HIPPOS WHO FAN THEIR POOP AND THE ONES THAT LAUGH AT THEM
Why does a hippo fan its poop? That was the one question I deperately needed answered when I decided to go on a Safari in Benin. Not really, but our tour guide explained the answer regardless. One day, a man told his old uncle that he had learned why a hippo fans his poop because he read it in a book. Why would you believe what those white people write in books, the uncle said, it is already known why a hippo fans his poop. And with that he began to explain. When God made the world, hippos were given the role of eating the grass (essentially a lawn mower). But, the hippo said, “its really hot here, God! can I please stay in the water?” But God said, “No, if you go in the water, you will probably eat fish, and I don’t want you to eat all the fish.” The hippo replied, “I will not eat the fish, I do not want fish; I just want to be cool because the sunshine is so hot!” “Too bad, hippo. You’re staying on land,” said God. Some time went by, and the hippo continued to complain and request permission to enter the water, but God never changed his mind. Eventually, God decided to visit Earth. When he walked through Africa and saw the hippo suffering, God realized how hot it was and he decided to change his mind. “You may go in the water, hippo,” said God, “But, there is one condition. Whenever you poop, you must fan out your poop, so that I can clearly see that you have not eaten any fish.” So, the hippo entered the water then, and continues to return to the water during the heat of day. He also continues to eat grass, and never eats fish, as is proven by his poop, conscientiously fanned out so that God can see what he has eaten. So, now you know why a hippo fans his poop. But that was just part of the whole safari trip. We went to Penjari Park, a beautiful, mountain-surrounded and animal filled area in the northwest part of Benin. It is known as one of the best and only places you can take safaris and see "wild animals" in West Africa. We went as a group, with a fantastic tour guide who, throughout our safari drives, would quote random facts, like the gestation period of a hippo. Every morning and evening, we would be speeding along the bumpy roads of the park in an old durable car, holding onto the home-made rooftop plywood chairs that we were sitting on, while dodging (and sometimes getting smacked in the face) with branches of trees and thorny trees, all while looking out for animals. Sometimes, the car would come to a halt, which meant our tour guide saw something. We would grab binoculars and he would explicitly explain where the animal was located and spout out random facts about this animal. We saw many animals, including elephants, warthogs (my fav), hippos, tons of birds, a super huge lizard, baboons, red monkeys, green monkeys, tons of different relatives of the antelope, and crocodiles. At one point, our tour guide saw an elephant in the distance that was on its way towards the road. We slowed to a crawl, and I guess the elephant realized we were not evil snipers out to shoot him, and he decided to cross the road right in front of us! Soon after, we went to a watering hole that was full of hippos! Some of the hippos were diving and swimming around and playing, some were farting/pooping a lot, and some were laughing- like really laughing. It sounded exactly like those laughs common to evil cartoon characters. Like (long audible inhale)-hahahahahaa.

SPARKLERS, GLOW STICKS, and EASTER EGG HUNTS
My family had sent sparklers (never realized you can send sparklers through the mail), various varieties of glow sticks, and plastic easter eggs. The neighbor’s kids go absolutely crazy over these things. With the sparklers and glow sticks, they run around the compound area at night, pretending they are some time of Kung Fu master. And with they Easter Eggs, they go even crazier. Every day, they want to have an Easter egg hunt. So, almost everyday, they run outside the compound and close the door as I and my neighbor hide the Easter eggs. Then, once they here the door opening, they sprint inside, practically knocking me over, and begin searching for Easter eggs. The oldest always find the most, and Maxime can only find them if I give him hints, but they don’t seems to care who finds the most, as logn as they get to play every day, as often as possible.

AED HAPPENINGS
The people at AED are quite busy now. There is a concert planned which will benefit the members of AED and raise awareness about HIV/AIDS. There will be songs, dances, speeches, and skits. Also, AED has recently acquired a new building. Actually, it is a room in a new health clinic that was recently built in Kante. Everyone is very excited about it, and hopefully by the end of the month we will be there.

MARATHON TRAINING
There is a marathon in Ghana in September, and a group of us Togo Peace Corps volunteers have decided to sign up for it and raise money for Hope Through Health, which assists with AED. So, we have begun training. And its been pretty rough, mainly because of the more-often-than-not diarrhea or stomach discomfort. But, I have been starting to do my training runs no matter what; if I can run training runs with gastrointestinal problems, then I can run the marathon with gastronintestinal problems. Anyway, it is soo good to be back running again and get back in shape! I am incredibly excited, and especially excited to be running to raise money for a group that I work with and see every day.

MARSHMALLOWS
One of the Indian stores in Kara just started carrying marshmallows, so everyone's been buying them (you don't see many marshmallows in this area of the world). So, of course, I bought some, brought them home, and excitedly showed my neighbors. At first, they didn't realize they were a food, which, I guess they don't look or smell like a food, but it had never occurred to me that a marshmallow could be anything but a food. Anyway, then, we roasted them and ate them, or rather, I roasted one and ate it while they started and wondered what I was doing. But, then I think they may have gotten the idea.

RANDOM
I was bitten by something called a blister beetle.
The neighbor kids' favorite song of mine is Poker Face, by Lady Gaga, except they call it Oringa