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.
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