My Life in Photos

I'm here in Lome editing the volunteer magazine this week so I have access to free fast internet. I hope you enjoy these photos. I have tried to include a mix of both work photos and fun photos, so all you back home don't think I'm either working too hard or having too much fun.

Hopefully, I'll have time for another post this week before I go back to village, so stay tuned.


The Primary School in my village

A classroom, some have desks, other's don't. I'm looking in to what I can do about this.

My Kitchen

This storm hit our beach party the day after we swore in last december.

My bedroom

The view from atop Mount Agou, looking down on my training village Agou Nyogbo

Compost Bin I created in an attempt to improve soil quality in my village

Tree Nursery

One of the main purposes of Peace Corps is cross-culturalization. I thought long and hard one day about the staples of American cultures, and how best to integrate those into Togolese culture. I decided the only logically hilarious thing to do was to take pagne, colorful African fabric, and create overalls, the one-piece of choice of many American farmers and blue-collar workers. I bought pagne, went to a local seamstress, and embarrassingly described and drew pictures of what overalls look like.

"It's all one piece," I would say to her as she stared at me confused.

"With straps, like this," I said, pretending to bring them over my shoulder.

"And they connect here, with a button!"

A week later, I received my overalls, and unveiled them at a volunteer party. This picture is me jammin on my harmonica. Notice my Barack Obama jersey underneath, I think that adds a nice touch.


My closest PC neighbors and I taking a break from village life

The view from atop the mountain next to my village

A door to a church on top of Mount Agou, the tallest peak in Togo

My garden, on planting day, right now I have romano beans, zuchinni, and sunflowers, with hopefully carrots, green beans and butternut squash still to come.

Looking down the street from my house toward the center of town

My adorable neighbor Joshua

The Audacity of What I Wear

Simply: The greatest purchase I've ever made.

How I Spent My May Day

Waahhhhhh Wahhhhh Wahhhhh!!!!!!!



6:17 AM



(Open eyes. What's that sound? A child crying or a goat dying? Study the noise. Listen.)



Living here is like living on a farm. At first the smells and sounds of the animals are obnoxious, but eventually they become a part of your life and you learn to live with them. I've even taught myself to sleep through the Rooster's 5 AM wake up call every morning. The goat, however, can still completely annoy the hell out me. They really are dirty, smelly, dumb, obnoxious animals (not even the young ones are cute). Which is why I enjoy holidays and specials occasions so much in Togo. Not because we get to drink a lot, although that can have its perks, but mostly because we eat goat. Despite my complaints about them; they really do taste good. However, the sound of a goat being slaughtered is truly frightening because it sounds so eerily like a child crying bloody murder.



6:18 AM

(That sound is right outside my window. Friggin kids! It's too early for this kids! Wait.....Listen.)


Waahhhhhh Wahhhhhhh Waaaaaaaa-uch uck (choke) (gurgle)


(Wait a sec. That's no child. That's a goat being killed! It must be a holiday! I'm eatin goat today!)


6:22 AM

Bonjour Marie!

Ah Bonjour Grant! Happy Holidays. Mathias is killing a goat in the backyard. Go back and watch.

Ok.


Bonjour Mathias!

Grant bonjour! Today is le jour du travailleur.

Oh like Labor Day. We have a day like this in America. So you're eating goat I see.


The dead goat has now been lit on fire and placed on two large logs. As it burns, two other guys turn it with sticks and scrape all the hair off with dull knives. This is done in preparation of dressing the animal.


7:28 AM


So how's the goat coming along, Mathias?

Good.


Mathias stands up his hand deep into the goats lower intestines. Slowly, he scoops outs undigested goat crap from the long cylindrical entrails, then washes them, poorly.


Oh yeah. My oatmeal is sittin real well right now.

What's that, Grant?

I'm going to come back later.

9:51 AM

Grant! Vien ici! Mangez!

Oh the goat's ready.

I'm staring at a giant bowl of what looks like brown soup with vegetables and....ground beef? Plus a lot of goat intestines. Those are easily identifiable being swirled around with a spoon by one of the five men sitting around the small wooden table. I sit down, am poured a tall friendly glass of sodobe, or as the the Togolese sometimes call it, L'eau de vie (the water of life). I grab a spoon, maneuver it around the goat intestines and take a scoop of ground beef. I slurp down what looks like taco meat, and then think, wait, how could they possibly have ground beef?

Uh, What is this I'm eating?

Blood.

Uh, I'm sorry, blood?

Yes. In Togo we eat everything.

But this can't be blood. This is not a liquid.

It is cooked. When we cook it, it clots. It becomes chunky.

(Pause)

Grant, are you all right?

Yeah. Please pass the intestines....And is that the heart?

Yes.

Oh, I wanna eat that goat's heart.

The heart's good.

I'm gonna need more water of life.

Of Course!

Have you guys ever seen that show Fear Factor?

12:30 PM

Lunch is served. A heaping mound of fufu is put in front of me. Fufu is pounded manioc, I used to be able to eat it until right around Christmas time I was sick for about a month from a steady diet of fufu and pates (fufu's corn equivalent). Now that sight and smell of it churns my stomach. Some volunteers eat fufu everyday, but for me, it can only be described as trying to choke down wet play-dough (although the play-dough's probably healthier). Coiled around the base of the fufu mound lie goat intestines.

Grant. Take this beer. it's not cold, sorry.

It's ok. (I love warm dark beer when it's ninety degrees outside). Thank you.

And wine? And Sodobe?

Uh no thanks, I need to slow down.

12:55 PM

More wine, Grant?

Hell Yeah! And where's the sodobe? Hmmm, bon goat......thanks aga....oh what are you guys doing!?!

I witness all three men at my table mix wine, sodobe and beer together in one glass. This is not uncommon in Togo, I often witness the coke-beer combination at other social events as well.

This is good! You want to try.

No Thanks. I don't like mixing them.

They don't mix them all in America?

No. We never mix those things together.......hmmmm well maybe in college.

2:03 PM

Grant. We're going to a wedding. We must pay our respects.

But I gotta let my goat heart settle.

Let's go!

2:21 PM

Grant, more tchouke?

Tchouke is millet beer. It is drank out of giant calabashes all over Togo. I admit I love tchouke and rarely turn it down. It is a bit like a spiced cider, kinda sweet, but a bit gritty. It's made in giant plastic bins. Different ethnic groups brew different types; it's all pretty similar but it's "goodness" is definitely best enjoyed in moderation. Two calabashes of strong tchouke makes me a bit, ummm, "talkative."

Yes, Please.

Are you going to the soccer game later, Grant?

Soccer game? Yeah, maybe I'll play in it.

Oh good. More Tchouke?

Yes, Please.

The mother of the bride dances before me. Men sit happily beside me, downing tchouke. Spirits are high, like the sun in the sky bearing down on the back of my neck. My stomach hurts

6:36 PM

Grant! Grant! Are you home?

(Open eyes. What's that sound. My neighbor calling me? Ok. Get up, go outside.)

Hey, good evening.

You missed the soccer game.

Sorry, I, uh, fell asleep after the wedding.

You drank too much.

Uh, a little.

Do you want some pates?

No, Thanks.

OK. Tomorrow, we party again. This goes all weekend.

My head hurts.

The Wedding

About thirty or forty volunteers descended upon Agou Nyogbo, my training village, this past weekend for a volunteer wedding. Two second year volunteers were doing the whole traditional Togolese wedding. It was a pretty awesome time and a huge party! We all drank too much sodobe, which is distilled palm wine, resembles grain alcohol, and tastes like silver polish. (Although after being given a shot of gin the same night, after a side by side comparison, I've concluded that gin is still worse). We all paraded from the groom's house to the bride's house and all had a big ceremony/dance party in the process.

Of course, getting to the wedding meant traveling in a bush taxi. I was at least traveling with other american volunteers making it more bearable, but some problems still arise. Because I am tall drivers like to put me in the front seat of a five seater. But there aren't just five people put in these automobiles, sometimes seven or eight or even nine people get to squeeze in, and for hours on end! My favorite position would have to be sitting on the emergency brake straddling the clutch. Every time the driver shifts he briefly gropes my inner thigh. First Third and Fifth gear aren't as bad, but when he puts in second or fourth, the stick trembles dangerously close to my....um..."special" area. (I pray to god he never has to put it in reverse). Basically, a bush taxi ride becomes one giant invasion of personal space. Add that to the fact that I constantly lose feeling in my legs which makes me immediately fall over upon exiting the vehicle. Plus I often have to dodge poop and pee from the crying infants nestled against my shoulder while the goat behind "baaah's" in my ear every five seconds, and am constantly fearful of breakdowns, potholes, jagged metal corners digging into my butt and lingering near my temple, and the possibility of a fatal head-on collision because my idiot driver keeps passing trucks on blind curves. Good times.

Here are a few pictures from the wedding and one other, the computer is running slow today so this is it for now.
My village, Kamina, in the distance
Yep. My face is lookin a bit thinner nowadays.

The parade of people

My friends dancing in the parade. I was shakin my thang as well, of course.

The bride, there in the middle

Here are a few pictures from the wedding and a few more from village.

The Groom

Some other updates and random thoughts:

~I went to the hospital to test my stool last week. I was fairly positive I had parasites but the results were negative, so I guess my body just hates me. It might be because I am eating more with neighbors and the Togolese cook with A LOT of oil. But it's so good. Black Eyed Peas with red oil and onions and gari (which is crush manioc and resembles grape nuts, added to the beans for crunch and flavor) Hmmm, plus Watchee is good, which is the rice and bean combo, with oil and onion, and crushed red pepper. Or rice with peanut sauce (with oil and onion of course) is another good meal.

~I ate something strange a fee weeks ago. In french, it was called 'la goutie' which doesn't exist in any french/english dictionary I have found, but from the description my friends in village gave me, it sounds like some sort of prairie dog/ground hog. Anyway it was really good and the meat quite tender.

~I am going to begin a world map project for the students. Kids don't have maps of the world to look at so I am going to paint a huge world map mural on the side of the school to teach them about geography. It should be a cool project and I hope the kids get into it and help out a lot.

~I have been selected as an editor for our publication called "Farm to Market." It is the Peace Corps Volunteer created Newsletter that circulates around the country and other countries in West Africa. Volunteers submit stories to it and it comes out once a quarter. So three other editors and I get to go to Lome once a quarter for a few days to put together the publication so that should be a lot of fun, and our whole trip is reimbursed, so we can live it up in Lome.

~Living in Africa makes you totally redefine "healthy" and "sanitary." Am I healthy? Well sure by Togo standards. Is that meat on a stick sanitary? I'm buying it from a man cooking over a fire in an old oil drum. I'm sure I won't regret eating this later. It is pretty funny to evaluate how your standards change after being here for awhile. There are only so many precautions one can take. Besides, street food tastes goooood. And I need my protein.

~Thank You to all who have sent letters, packages and anything else. It means a lot. I hope I receive them all but unfortunately it is inevitable that a few will be "lost" to the Togolese postal service

What I Had Time To Upload

Heat, Hunting and Finding Happiness

Man, it's heatin up. The winter winds blowing down from the sahara subsided and last month became more humid and hot. We have had a few scattered rains here and there which has been nice, and the official rainy season begins in the next couple weeks. The humidity will get worse but at least I won't have to conserve water anymore.



I just finished In-Service Training so it was great to see all my friends from Pre-Service Training again. We partied every night and told hilarious stories about our lives so far. Everyone seems to be in good spirits but it was sad knowing that will be the last time together as a group. But I have finished my first three months at post which are supposed to be the hardest so I am staying positive about the future. My french continues to improve and I feel more and more comfortable in village each week. Some of the projects I am thinking about trying to start are:



Apiculture(beekeeping)

Alley-cropping to improve the soil

Environmental Ed. with a possible student garden

Moringa Tree Cultivation

Water Purification



It will be difficult. People do not have disposable income here to pursue new interests so one has to start small in terms of work projects and work up. Usually a volunteer's second year is done doing bigger funded projects, which I will then be asking for all of your help.



My health has remained pretty steady, for Togo at least. I have been fighting nasty heat rashes since it became more humid, as do all the volunteers. Plus every little bite or scratch makes me worry about infection and some times I am convince a bruise is actually a guinea worm about to explode out of my skin, but really I'm just paranoid.



My neighbor came home with an enormous dead snake the other day whiwh he killed with a stick. It was about as long as I am tall and as thick as my forearm at the elbow. It was black so I'm saying it was a Black Mamba to make the story better, because that night we grilled it up and ate it. There really is nothing better than little Mamba marinated with onion ginger pepper and a buillon cube. Good stuff, but hard to pick the meat of all its tiny little bones. My neighbor just ate the bones , even the spinal cord. It is my belief that Africans have teeth made of steel and stomachs of iron. Tomorrow I am going to try to post pictures. I don't yet know if I'll be able to but if not tomorrow than eventually.



So that was probably the coolest thing I've done in the last month and a half. Oh I ate bush rat too. It was kind of gross seeing the fur and tail still attached to the skin perched upon my pile of rice. But, hey, that's protein here. When my neighbor doesn't kill some exotic animal out in the bush, I basically live as a vegetarian.



It's crazy to think that next week is my six month anniversary in country. Time really is flying, even if some days are a little monotonous. I am never quite sure what you guys back home want to know, so if you have any questions write them in the comment section, and next time I will try to do a little question and answer thing with you. I'll leave you all with a quote from a second year volunteer who I talked with last week. I was discussing my first three months at post and I told him what I do for fun and how I pass the days. "That's what is so great about being at post," he told me, "you remember how to make yourself happy." And he was exactly right.

Remember how to make yourself happy. Because sometimes we forget, even when we think we haven't.

Oh Village Life

Woman: Honey, there's a white man lying in the yard.

Man: What! Stop joking around.

Woman: No. I'm serious there's a white man lying under our Baobob Tree.

Man: What the hell are you on? You been drinking Sodobe this morning?

Woman: Fine don't believe. But he's laying down next to a bike eating some bread.

Man: If I have to come all the way out there (man walks out of house) to find you messing with m---holy jeez that's a giant yovo! All right. Nobody panic. Everyone just be cool, go back inside and maybe he'll go away.

Child: YOVO!!!! YOVO!!!! Bonsoir!!

Woman: Ah! Quiet child or we'll give you to the yovo.

Child: No!!! (child cries and runs away)



Or so that's how the conversation played out in my head as I lounged in the shade. Halfway between my village, Kamina, and the town of Pagala, which is to say, almost halfway to somewhere; so I took a much needed break from an exhausting bike ride.


I get my mail in Pagala, and upon asking my neighbor which trail goes to Pagala, he answered "Oui!" (My french needs some work). So I took off and headed north on my mountain bike. Actually the plan was to go to a closer village Tchifama, then Pagala the next day, but three forks in the road laterI found myself on the wrong side of a mountain and low on water. Pagala it is then! I reached it eventually, in four and a half hours through deep sand and creeks.

Riding through some of the more isolated villages was memorable. Seeing the looks on the children's faces was priceless. When was the last time they saw a white man? Ever?

My health has improved since last post. I have started cooking for myself and have been mostly avoiding Togolese food. I guess my body just couldn't handle the local cuisine. But now I'm eating pretty good. Getting creative with my relatively few available ingredients. I long for rainy season when mangos, pineapples, and avocados become readily available in my village. Until then I have put some amazing twists on macaroni and cheese. (Important news: I have discovered that eggs are available in my village. The place keeps getting better and better.)

My buddy and closest neighor James came and visited me last week. He only stayed for the day but we got into a conversation about how people's service in the PC can be so different from other's. Some volunteers have electricity, plumbing, real showers, and one even has satellite television. James and I have very rural posts so they are what might be more what you expect when you imagine the peace corps lifestyle. We both agreed that the absence of electricity and plumbing and manys types of food isn't all that bad. Sure I wish I had ESPN a little more often; but I survive. Besides, eating dinner by candlelight every evening really captures the classic romanticism of my life here. We agreed that the hardest part was being in a place where you don't know anyone and where no one speaks your language. It was a poignant moment for us both and further gave us reason to look forward to the future as we become more comfortable in our villages.

Quick note: For an idea on what village life is like; pick up The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. Even though it takes place fifty years ago in the Congo, the descriptions of the everyday things are spot on for today as well.

Well hopefully I'll get to internet once a month or so for these posts; it's a pain in the butt getting to this city of Atakpame. About four hours to only go about 55 miles. Plus traveling forces me to buy street food so my body begins be to hate me again

Keep sending emails and comments. I appreciate everything. It is weird being completely separated from the news of the world; but also kind of nice. After years of studying and reading and following all different kinds of media as a journalism major it is nice to relax and just be blissfully ignorant about world events; for a few weeks at a time at least. But I am most interested in how all of you are personally doing. Peace Corps makes one into a bit of a gossip fiend.

Goodbye for now.