Reflections and Updates Jan 2005

Whats going on everybody? I cant believe it, but here I am saying TIME FLIES once again! WOW! Its hard to believe that another month has come and gone... One month down, only... hmm... how many more to go? I can’t think about it in those terms, I have to keep myself on the day by day plan otherwise I start feeling much too overwhelmed (and heartsick), and then my thoughts inevitably will lead me down these cold, lonely paths, where I find myself wondering what I would be doing if I was at home, thinking of all the things Im missing out on (like Mardi Gras right now!), questioning my decision to come here in the first place, and generally, torturing myself with all kinds of thoughts belonging to the hypothetical ‘what if’ category. Remembering to stay in the moment is one of the survival strategies that I’ve adopted since I’ve been here, it’s something that I think really helps the time tick and pass on by, not to mention, it allows me to really embrace and fully appreciate the precious moments that I have here.
I have many thoughts and reflections that Id like to share with you, so bear with me, and maybe even read this bit by bit, because it may turn out to be a fairly lengthy email... This is also my second attempt at writing this email, so in case you were wondering, that’s why I’ve been MIA for the month of January! I encountered a terrible tragedy with the computer the first time I tried, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed as I type this, and hopefully this will make its way to you with no problems this time!
Reflections on Christmas in Togo (better late than never, n’est-ce pas?)
Almost the entire month of December, I kept wondering what would Christmas be like in Africa. I mean, how is Christmas really celebrated in West Africa? With Christianity being so widespread here (missionaries are everywhere), I knew they celebrated the birth of Jesus somehow, but surely, there would be no Santa Claus, no reindeer and elves, no snow, or even a cool breeze... and I knew I definitely wouldn’t find anyplace to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special or anyplace that reminded me of City Park’s annual Christmas in the Oaks. If there was one thing I was certain of, I knew it would definitely be much different from any other Christmas holiday season I’ve ever experienced, and I also knew it would be a tad bit difficult since it was the first Christmas I had ever spent without family. The feelings of homesickness were blossoming all throughout the month of December, but they really kicked in and intensified as Christmas day grew closer and closer. In order to alleviate some of the nostalgia, I left my village the day after I arrived back from the med unit, and met up with other PCVs in a town about 2 hours away. On Christmas Eve, we traveled to Lome, and spent the day on one of the private beaches there, just enjoying the natural beauty that surrounded us, the laughter of kids playing soccer in the sand, and the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore. In spite of the anti homesick movement we thought we had initiated, somehow we all still found ourselves mostly looking out across the ocean thinking of and talking about family and friends that were thousands of miles away on the other side of the Atlantic. It really wasn’t doing much to help my case homesickness, but amazingly, I did get a couple special phonecalls at the very same time that I was starting to feel ‘a moment’ set in, and even if it can’t be captured and held onto forever, the sound of a loving and supportive voice on the other end of the phone has never meant more to me; it was exactly what I needed, and it came exactly when I needed it!
In Lome, we actually saw posters of Santa Claus plastered in the windows of boutiques and restaurants, and even little Christmas trees were suddenly being found in major businesses and other establishments. Papa Noel had found his way to Togo after all! Lome, however, is quite a contrast to the rest of Togo, and while images of Santa and his sleigh made it to the front of store windows there, reality is most kids here live in tiny villages hidden deep in the bush, have never been to Lome, and have no concept of Santa Claus at all. While in Lome, I realized that I do miss home, and I do miss my family and friends, but I honestly do not miss the mayhem and madness that surrounds the holiday season and supercedes the true meaning of Christmas. It was actually refreshing, and almost liberating to celebrate Christmas without all the stress about buying the ‘necessary’ last minute gifts for people you feel obligated to give something to, without having to deal with impatient people in ridiculously long shopping lines, or angry people fighting over parking spaces at the mall. The words of someone here echo in my mind as I type this. A Togolese man told me that “En Afrique, la famille, c’est l’argent” (In Africa, the family is money). I was observing a funeral parade going through the streets of my village when he spoke these words to me, and apart from me being an American, it was obvious at the time why he was telling me such a thing. Since I’ve heard that statement, I’ve been reflecting on the truth it holds, searching through my mind, trying to find one single instance that I could use to discredit it, but honestly, since I’ve been here in Togo, I cant think of one thing about the lifestyle of people here that would contradict this statement… its impossible! Family is everything here, family is absolutely all they have. Petty arguments about simple things are rare, and when they do occur, they never last for lengthy periods of time, are always resolved, and then quickly forgotten.
(sorry for the tangent, lets get back to the details about my Christmas...)
On the night of Christmas Eve, after the beach, we traveled to a village named Vogan, and met up with more volunteers there. It was about 8 or 9 of us total. Christmas day was relaxing, most of us were visibly homesick waiting around, cell phone in hand, listening carefully and wishing it would ring. We cooked, talked, took pictures, played cards, exchanged Kris Kringles, and drank sangria all day long. As always we made the best out of the situation, and actually had a wonderful day. For the Togolese people here, apart from the fact that they went to church, it was as if Christmas was just another regular day. There were no large family gatherings, none of the typical singing and dancing that happens whenever there’s the slightest reason to celebrate, and of course the kids here weren’t waiting up all night trying to quietly slip out of bed, peek around corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus and all the new goodies he brought. It was just another day in the life here.
It was a little strange for me, but in Togo, New Years is more cause of celebration than Christmas. Everything throughout the villages was shut down, the music of the tom-toms filled the atmosphere, and people were dancing and singing in the streets all day long. I was with another new volunteer in a village about 20km from mine for New Years because her homologue had arranged for a huge ceremony to take place in our honor to bring us blessings in the new year. This volunteer and I both have given up all meat since being here, and after much debate, we were successfully able to convince her homologue’s family not to slaughter a goat for us for the event! Thank goodness! The ceremony was amazing, even without the sacrificial offering, and we danced, danced, danced till the sun went down!
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One morning, right after the first of January, I woke up to a strange, and now foreign sensation sweeping over my body. There was actually a cold breeze flowing through my windows! I was perplexed for a moment, and my mind was scrambling to remember where I was. This feeling was something I knew I recognized, but from where? A past life? Could maybe this be deja vu? I’ve become so accustomed to burning up (almost downright sizzling) all day long so it really seems like the days of me rubbing my hands briskly over my arms trying to prevent goosebumps, being wrapped in warm, goosedown jackets, and cursing Jack Frost are flashbacks from another lifetime! Was I still in Africa? This familiar sensation had awaken me from a deep sleep, and caused such bewilderment that I couldn’t gain my bearings! I got up, walked around, realized I was definitely still in my house in Africa, and then went outside to see if this was for real... I was thinking maybe somebody had just placed an industrial size freezer fan outside of my front window! But nope, my neighbors walked up to me all bundled up, read the puzzled look on my face, and announced, ‘C’est la harmattan! Il fait froid!’ Harmattan was here! It was actually cool, not cold, but cool, in the mornings and at night, with a refreshing breeze throughout the day, and the noonday sun didn’t seem as brutal. The people here were bundled in layers of pagnes (colorful, lively patterned cloths of material), and they pulled out heavy duty winter gear that I don’t even wear in the States! It was about 65-70° in the mornings, perfect weather, but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and the harmattan made its departure as suddenly and unexpectedly as it arrived. Yes, although it’s always hot here, there are three actual seasons that rotate throughout the year: rainy season, dry season, and harmattan. Harmattan is the period when northerly winds come alive cooling the temperature, and also bringing with it tremendous amounts of dust from the Sahara. I enjoyed the temperature change, but the dust was everywhere, and it was truly disgusting. It seemed like a cloud of fog had fallen over Togo, only it wasn’t fog, it was dust particles sullying the horizon (and aggravating my allergies). Just about a week ago the cloud was lifted, the cool breeze vanished, and the heat and humidity were once again back in full force. Cooler weather was just a tease, and now it feels as if, and really actually is, HOTTER than ever before. It was rainy season when I arrived in September, harmattan came in the beginning January, lasted almost a month, and now it’s dry season- AKA the hottest part of the year. As the months go by, I’ve been told it only grows increasingly hotter and hotter, until rainy season brings relief sometime in May. I have never experienced this kind of heat before! It’s somewhat similar to New Orleans because it’s both hot and humid here also, but the heat and humidity seem to be at least ten times stronger and more intense than anything I’ve ever known before. Honestly, I’m wondering how I’m gonna make it! At least at home there’s A/C, but here I can’t even find a nice shady spot to catch a breeze and let the natural A/C (wind) blow through my hair! I’m sincerely dreading the months of March and April, when the heat is supposedly at its fiercest. So pray for me! Pray for me because I think the heat and humidity are trying to suffocate me, and also because all the most frightening and gross things seem to happen to me and only me! None of the other new volunteers have had encounters with snakes, or been attacked by stinging venomous scorpions, AND none have experienced my latest feat either! Yes- there’s something else to add to the list now, but relax, this is more in the completely gross, absolutely revolting, and despicably disgusting category than the last report, which really was a pretty serious attack. This time I discovered that I had a noisy little uninvited house guest making itself quite comfortable in my place of serenity! My house was invaded by a mouse! This little critter ate holes through my screen door and was trying to make a permanent home for himself in one of the corners of my living room area! The nerve of him, right? He came scurrying across the floor one night when I was about to eat dinner, and I know you can already imagine my reaction! I immediately screamed and jumped up, ran to my bedroom, closed the door, locked myself inside, and hid under the protection of my mosquito net for the rest of the night! I stayed up all night listening to the noise he was making in the next room and thinking about what he was getting into (and WHY ME!), but I couldn’t bring myself to open the door and scare the mouse away! The next morning after I thought I had prepped myself for the inevitable, it still took me about 30 minutes to open the door and peek out just a little! And it took me another 10 minutes to take 5 steps in the room and jump on the highest piece of furniture there so I could take a look around, access the damage, and see if he was still there! I didn’t find the mouse, but I did find that my last bag of M&Ms had been broken into and festered upon by this evil and unwanted little intruder! Imagine that! Nothing else seemed to have been touched, just my last bag of peanut M&Ms! Seriously, WHY ME? And why my last bag of M&Ms?!!! I almost feel like I’m being tested, because I did say that I could deal with anything here except the huge, multicolored, flying African cockroaches that I’ve heard about, read about, and even seen pictures of! Somebody must’ve been listening or overheard me saying that because so far I’ve had to deal with every other thing imaginable, but I’ve have no encounters with African cockroaches! I was so afraid of this little mouse though, that I was spending the night with other volunteers every night until my homologue told me that he was able to handle the situation and things were now okay! ( I know it’s silly, but you know me!)
Anyway, now that the mouse situation is over with, I’m settled back in village, and my days have seemed to take on a normal, though still unpredictable, course of action. I’ve found myself falling into a groove, and already, there are certain things that I've grown to love and look forward to. Wednesdays have become my favorite day of the week because on Wednesday, my village hosts its lively and festive marche, and Bethany (another PCV only 10km away), my homologue, and I seemed to have adopted a custom of going to the marche together where we all sit under a ‘paillotte’, test the various foods from the ‘marche mamas’, sip calabash after calabash of local moonshine called ‘tchouk’ (pronounced chook), and absorb the sights, sounds, and wonder of the African marche for hours. In a weird kind of way it reminds me of the days not so long ago when I could be spotted at a local happy hour spot with friends munching on chips and salsa and sipping on margaritas! (such heartwarming memories!!!)
Other things I’ve come to enjoy are the daily afternoon visits I’m guaranteed to receive by kids from the CEG. We sit and talk, and normally, I’m bombarded with questions about life in the US. This past week has been especially interesting because the kids have decided it’s their goal to teach me one of the most difficult traditional African (Ewe) dances that I cant even begin to describe, much less perform correctly! My attempts at performing the maneuvers have filled my compound with many extremely loud outbursts of laughter this entire week! It’s been lots of fun and I love the kids! Even if they are laughing at me because I’m making a serious fool of myself!
In the more somber moments though, I catch myself wondering what my life would be like if I had to trade places with them. I honestly just cannot imagine it, and no matter what I do or how well integrated I become into my community, I will never really know what it’s like to walk a mile in a Togolese person’s shoes. For instance, the girls in the household are up before anyone else. They have to run back and forth to the water well, that could be several km away from their homes, carrying basins of water on their heads so that everyone can have water for the day, then they sweep the yard, start a cooking fire, feed the yard animals, and then get dressed and ready for school. At school, it’s common that teenage girls have to deal with sexual harassment from their teachers, usually grown men with wives and families, who intimidate these girls by telling them that in order to pass the course they first need to perform some type of sexual act for them. Then when they get home, they help prepare dinner, finish doing daily chores, attempt to study by the hot, dim light of a kerosene lamp, and then finally go to bed. That’s a very simplified version, but still, I can’t even imagine it for two seconds.
The realities of life for young girls here is a large contributing factor to the reason why the ratio of boys and girls in school are so disproportionate, especially after primary school. There’s also not much the young women here can do to prevent harassment, and many are forced to leave school simply to avoid it. For other girls, it’s mandatory for them to stay home to help run the household, take care of younger siblings, or work in the fields and contribute to the family income. (These are just a few reasons why my particular program, Girls Education and Empowerment, was initiated. Hopefully we’re able to raise awareness, and address as well as alleviate some of these issues. I’ll talk more about actual work that I’m doing in upcoming stories!)
I often wonder if this were my life, would I still be smiling? Would I still be hopeful for the future? Would my spirit not be broken? Would I still have faith in a just and loving God? It would certainly be difficult. There’s nothing that amazes me more than the strength, the generosity, the faith, and the happiness that flows from the souls of the Togolese men, women, and kids. In spite of everything, they still have the ability to smile, to be hopeful, to have dreams and goals in life, and they actually look forward to another day! They live each day, each moment knowing that they are loved by each other and by God (or their other deity), and that makes everything worth enduring. That’s truly the one thing that makes life worth living for them. Here, family, friends, and community are paramount. I feel so fortunate to simply be in the company of the Togolese people, but I’m doing so much more than enjoying their mere presence, I’m learning, growing, and sharing with such a heart strong, determined, courageous community of people. They have become my inspiration! Everytime I hear the giggles of the kids in my village as they’re running up to greet me, I know that there’s no job in the states, no school education, or amount of money in my bank account that would be worth me sacrificing this experience for. Looking back, I smile as I realize that though many people questioned my decision to join Peace Corps, it’s suddenly crystal clear to me that this is exactly where I need to be- filling my heart with the pure, sweet, innocent sounds of children’s laughter, and blossoming among those who are certainly already butterflies.
Till next time, Take care and I MISS YOU!!!
Note to Friends and Family...
There’s more that I want to write about here, but this is taking me such a long time to type, and I just don’t think I can sit here any longer! I’m jotting things that aren’t included down, and hopefully I’ll be able to mention them next time! Also, if you have any specific questions you want answered or things that you would like me to write about, please let me know and I’ll try to include that too! I really do miss you all! I hope everyone is enjoying life and love in 2005 so far!
PS- Please keep writing me! Your letters are my newfound love! My address is:
Erica A Rachal
Corps de la Paix
BP 3194
Lome, Togo
West Africa