The Finale (in pictures)

Me with some friends in Waragni, the village of my volunteer friend Jocelyn, who left Togo in September

These next few photos are from my trip to the Tamberma Valley in Northern Togo. The people in this region have been making large mud huts for centuries, partly for protection from enemies and to keep livestock and grain stored safely. This is the only UNESCO World Heritage Site in Togo. It was pretty fascinating and a volunteer friend of mine actually lives in this village. I was jealous of her.

The next section is of the children around my village Kamina. They usually put a large smile on my face. They kept me going strong for two years, they are some of the most memorable people of my entire service. You may notice a few familiar faces among all the children. I had my favorites, and I took countless photos of them. (Above: Isabelle)

Adilene, Isabelle, Celestine

Abra and Abravi (twins)

Marina

Rose

The next photos are from my goodbye party my village threw me. Above, a friend makes a musical instrument. They shook these during my party. Yes, I was forced to dance. And yes, I did own the dance floor.

Traditional African garb. I had to hold the horse tails in that exact manner in every photo or else they would yell at me.

Note the gold shoes. Reserved usually for chiefs. I guess I'm kind of a big deal.

Beer me! Three kinds of alcohol were put in front of me. I couldn't be rude and say no.

Unfortunately I had to give all the cool beads back after the party

My landlord on my right and some of his family

My best friends Marie and Matthias, the couple with whom I ate all my meals. Unforgettable people.

My second to last night in village. My last meal with my village work counterpart Felix.

Felix and I enjoy some fufu witrh sesame sauce. (Comment from my father: "You wear that shirt in every photo. Buy a new shirt already." It's true. But my favorite shirt got me through a lot of tough times in Togo)

My last night in village. Some friends bought me a traditional African boo-boo...with matching cap.

Just after my last meal with my best friends. Marie wore here nice church outfit all day, to commemorate my departure.

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go.

Goodbye cruel road to my village. I curse you now, but will remember you only with fond memories. And it was only fitting that my car would get stuck in the mud, forcing us to get out and push, on my very last trip out of Kamina.

I left the same week the newest volunteers swore in. So everyone came down to the capital for the party. These are some (but not all) of my best friends in Togo. Chrissy, Kate, James and Jarrett. The two years were made easier with all of them to lean on. Thank you friends.

I've arrived in America! Kind of. I'm going through customs at JFK airport. I flew with my friend Betsy who ended her service the same day as me. Don't we look adorable and totally ready to blend back in to American society?

I'm Out

The papers have been signed. My debriefing is complete. I am no longer a Peace Corps volunteer. I go to the airport tonight. I'm leaving Togo.

When I arrive in Portland I will write a lengthier post about my departure that includes a lot of photos. Now I don't have the energy or a fast internet connection. I'm tired.

See you all real soon!

Walking Through the Woods Toward Home

Packed in my mind lie all the clothes
Which outward nature wears
And in its fashion's hourly change
It all things else repairs
  -Henry David Thoreau
  "The Inward Morning"

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."
  -Jonathan Safran Foer
  Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close


Usually, before I lay myself down in the dirt, I check for scorpions, or fire ants, or any number of other African annoyances, but now I'm just too tired, I need to rest. I'm about four hours into a hike and an hour and a half into my regret. It's noon, my feet are blistered and my water situation is not quite dire, yet long past comfortable. The equatorial heat has a tendency to sneak up on you. The first two hours, I hardly took a sip out of my nalgene, walking under a early morning mist, but now that the clouds have burned off, I feel my body losing moisture like a squeezed sponge. I have four sacs of purified water, which I rip open with my teeth and pour into my water bottle. I don't know how much farther I have to walk. I've stumbled from one pocket of shade to the other for the last 30 minutes trying to will myself to stop drinking too frequently, but all I can think about is how I once read in a survival book that most people who die in the woods are found with water still in their packs. 

I'm on a hike I vowed to do before leaving here. I'm walking from one volunteer's village to another. My friend Emerson to my friend James, through the lush forests of the southwest Blitta Region, across the plains, skirting the ghanaian border and into the Northern Akebou Region. Right now, I'm somewhere between the village of Assoukoko and Seregbene, on a well worn bush trail used by farmers in the area. Only, I haven't seen another human being in almost two hours. I prop my back pack up under my head, lay down in the shade of tree whose name, as an environment volunteer, I should probably know, and close my eyes.

One of the most difficult things about keeping this blog is giving you the reader, not just an idea of how I live in my village, but how one copes with living away from friends and family who are back home in the states. Most people never live for two plus years overseas, and if they do, they have access to electronic means of communication fairly regularly. When volunteers become frustrated with life here, which is always, they don't want to log onto the internet and tell people back home about it, partly because they think that people back home won't understand. That is why many volunteers stop updating their blogs. You can see the linked blogs on the right side of my blog, some haven't been updated in four, five, or even eight months. When asked why they have stopped updating, they usually answer that they can never think of anything interesting to say. Everyday events come off sounding boring (even though those in the United States would hardly think so), and attempts at being "deep" about our experience seem dumb, or corny.

A long ridge of mountains runs north to south on my right. I assume they form the Ghana/Togo border, which means I have been traveling directly south. I intended to aim southeast towards James' village. I carry a compass to guide my way, but I walk at the mercy of the twisting esses in the trail, going where it takes me. I begin moving again. A farmer passes me going the opposite direction. He says he's going to Assoukoko, about four hours away, the village from which I just came. He carries no water and wears flip fops. I ask him if I am getting close to Seregbene. He says no. I'm going to Sekounde. Once I arrive at Sekounde, I must turn right on a different road. My instincts are right. I am farther west than I want to be. No problem. New destination: the village of Sekounde. My goal no longer to reach James' house, but to reach water. A nice Togolese villager will surely hydrate me in Sekounde. Will it be clean? After living here for two years, one begins to take some liberties with his health. I personally, in times of great thirst, abide by the veteran (and idiotic) Peace Corps volunteer water credo: "If through it I can see, clean enough it is for me."

Keeping a blog becomes harder because we feel farther and farther away from our lives in the States. In the beginning it was easy to write. We did not yet have lives here. We were still visitors, updating our real life back home what we were up to in Africa. But then suddenly, we lived here. And where one lives, one inevitably has responsibilities. And work and appointments. And friends.

And we began to miss things back home. A baseball season. An engagment. The birth of a nephew. A cousin's wedding. A death of a friend.

And those events make us think. We live in a shiny, chrome, pocket-sized 24 hour news channel, an up-to-the-minute existence, a twitter fed, smart-phoned, update-your-facebook-status-while-waiting-at-the-bank technocracy. We're bombarded by information, and I'm not against this, I even kind of miss it. But many people probably fail to realize why this is true - why we continue to spend more and more time in front of a screen and less outdoors: our fear of missing certain news far outweighs are desire to hear any news. Even if that certain news item only comes our way once a year or so, and even if it's not a complete travesty that you missed it, after awhile, they add up to something greater. And at some point you begin to feel like there's another life somewhere you keep forgetting to live.

I have now been walking about five hours. At least the sun has ducked behind some clouds, but the hills are now what really hurt me. My legs burn intensely. I probably look like some sort of wet, homo erectus zombie, sweaty, hunched over, my backpack throwing off my center of gravity, hands on my knees, lifting each knee deliberately, as not to turn an ankle this far from anywhere. I have now reached "manly grunt" stage, convinced that any gutteral utterance, a bark, an "ahh," will make the next step easier. I am almost at the top of what looks to be the last hill, at least for awhile. And the trail seems to enter a dense forest up ahead. I arrive at an intersection of two trails. Two peaces of carved flat wood line the fork. They scream at me to rest again. I decide the fork must mean I'm getting close. I rip open my last sixteen ounce bladder of water and mix in my bottle with a packet of oral rehydration salts. I take a sip. It's like getting sucked down by a nasty undertow and taking in a big moutful of sea water. It tastes fantastic.

The only thing harder than the physical isolation here is the emotional isolation. It is the lack of any opportunity to share a joy or a laugh, or a grieving moment with someone back home. It is knowing that at that instant there are no other people reacting to the same event, because it has already passed them by. It can be difficult to describe this condition fully, and I suppose that is what makes Peace Corps, among other things, so trying

This time I encounter not just a farmer, but an old woman and a young boy. All three are walking north, probably for hours and without water. The man assures me the village of Sekounde is not far. I should reach it in under an hour, and the trail is flat. He asks me if I have lost my motorcycle. I tell him no, I have walked from Assoukoko. He looks impressed, yet skeptical that a white man could walk that far. I must look awful because he tells me to take a motorcycle from Sekounde to Seregbene. It’s good advice. I’ve got nothing left to prove. I’ve already walked about 25 kilometers. And two hours longer than I thought this hike would take. I thank them and continue south toward the village of Sekounde. And from there I’ll go to Seregbene. And then on to my house in Kamina. I can't wait to go home.

Grant, Celestine and Adeline-2 sweet little girls and proud Mom

The children that greeted us upon our arrival

Foo Foo-fried plantains-fried yams-red and green sauces

School building project..see Grant's "after" pictures below

"Before" school project pictures..no walls yet but see Grant's photos below.
Bricks drying under the tree

Meeting with village leader and Suodabe toast

The watchers

Wouda, a favorite--possible future president

Sister and her little brother

A few of the children that followed us to one of the churches

Grant's littlest shadows

Joshwa and his mother

Grant with the Kaminah teachers--Mattias is in the blue shirt

OUR TRIP OF A LIFETIME 

     By now we have had many opportunities to share our photos and wonderful stories about this most incredible adventure.  We, as parents could not wait to see what our son had been doing and how he had been living for the last two years.  We had a some idea of what it must be like and Grant's photo's showed us, in two dimension, what things looked like.  However, we are not sure anything could have fully prepared us for this trip.  Neither can we now truly describe these amazing countries, the wonderful people we met and the warmth and friendship that was extended to us wherever we went.


     The flights are long to Africa and with the time zone change, you lose a day but there he was, Grant waiting for us in the Accra, Ghana Airport, standing tall among all the vendors, greeters, several Muslims during their nightly prayers and those willing to carry your bags for a fee.  It was chaos. Two nights in Accra to get acclimated and catch up on our sleep, then a ride on the country wide transit bus watching very bad Nigerian soap operas, to spend two nights at an eco-lodge, about 120 miles northwest of Accra, called Safari Beach Lodge. Then to Cape Coast, one of the largest shipping centers for the shipment of slaves from Africa to all points around the world.  The castles that became slave dungeons were very depressing and a reminder of the horrors when we deal in the sale or trade of human capital.


    While in Cape Coast we had the unbelievable experience of watching the Ghana vs. USA World Cup Soccer match with 3,000+ Ghanaians at a local gas station, on a projector type image on four 4x8 sheets of plywood nailed together and painted white.  Fortunately, Ghana won the game and we were able to participate in a parade down the highway with now 6,000+  Ghanaians,  all dancing and hugging and displaying a kind of sports enthusiasm well beyond what we see after our Super Bowl of World Series.


   Then into Togo.  The border crossing is a whole other story.  Before leaving Lome', the capital of Togo, we had the pleasure of meeting several of Grant's friends, also PC volunteers and we can truly and absolutely say we were honored and believe that they are and will be some of the stars of this generation.


    In Grant's village of Kamina, it is readily apparent that these people are living a lifestyle not much different than 100 years ago.  With the exception of a few cell phones, motorcycle taxis and a generator to cool their beer and soda, his villagers are without modern conveniences. They are without electricity and have only two wells in village. They bathe using "bucket baths" and collect rain water from their roof. Their beautiful clothes are clean and very colorful.    Most are farmers and are simply trying to produce food for their table. 
    
    We have never experienced a more gentle, warm, loving and truly engaged people.  The faces of both the young and old would light a room if you simply said "bon jour" or "bon soir" or "merci".  We really were embraced when we explained in our very poor French that we were Grant's "mama" and "papa".  With great pride we participated in 4 meetings with the village notables and the school professors(teachers) from the school he is building/repairing.


    Our most amazing memories from this adventure are of the children.  They could not have been any more beautiful and happy.  They were around us all day an into the night and always with huge smiles on their faces.  Grant has a few favorites, but if we could, we would have brought back with us, any number of these children.  It is so easy to see what is possible, if we could just insure that all of these boys and girls have an inclusive education that will give them the tools to change the future of even this smallest of villages. We loved them all.


     We shared meals with Marie and Mattias who have become like parents to Grant during his stay in Togo. Marie fixed all of our meals on a simple charcoal fueled clay oven.  They are a beautiful couple and both well educated. Mattias, as a teacher, is paid by the Togo government but the individual villages are responsible for the school building and supplies.  Were we able to bring over several large duffels with school supplies, soccer balls, soccer jerseys, toothbrushes, medical supplies for the local dispensary and peanut butter for Grant.


     We ate "foo foo" and "pak" with many different and spicy red and green sauces. We bought cloth/pagneKamina.  It is certain that he has had an impact on the villagers he has met.  They will truly miss him when he leaves in November.

     At our visit, his school project was not near as complete as he now shows in his photos.  They are making the building bricks right on the school grounds.  They have to wait for access to a dump truck to bring sand in for the blocks and the cement.  As he has written, there are new concrete floors, and walls in 4 of the classrooms and a fifth is being given support posts as well as a floor and roof.  He hope to refinish blackboards and also do a landscape planting around the school before he returns home.  Basic education of the Togolese people is absolutely critical to their hopes for a better future.

      We were very sad to leave and could have stayed longer. As we returned to Lome' we stopped at a camp for AIDS orphans, sponsored and staffed by the PC volunteers.  Here again we met many of the volunteers that have been with Grant the last two years.  They are very impressive young people and as mentioned will be a force to reckon with and their voices will be heard.  It is also clear that many have formed a bond of friendship and camaraderie that will last a lifetime.

      This was truly a trip of a lifetime for us and we both have a greater appreciation about what we read about current events in Africa and especially, West Africa.  A country very different from our own but filled with people that have the same love of family and the same hopes and fears we all have for the future of our children, our schools, our communities and our nations.  The Togolese and Ghanaians are truly committed and capable of making their national contribution towards the betterment of all of us.

Ron and Terri Rhodes

COS Conference

Last week, We had our COS (close-of-service) Conference at a nice hotel on the beach in Lome. Every volunteer from my original training group attended.  What was once a group of 31 of us had been dwindled down to only 17. Almost half of us did not make it this far.

We spent three days talking about our re-adjustment to life back in the states and how we would talk about our service to friends, family, and potential employers. We also received our dates of departure from Togo. I'm leaving here November 18th.

I am eager to come home.  I have learned a lot through this experience, and in these last few months I hope to write some deep well though-out posts on my Peace Corps service. I am sorry I have not been writing more frequently lately. For now consider the following:

Two years ago I posted a picture of myself on the beach looking pensively out to sea. Here is photo of me take at our conference (sporting my hip Euro Trunks given to me by my girlfriends on my 26th birthday). If you don't know whether I will have changed when I come back, grown, matured, or whatever, do know that my taste in swim trunks has gotten a whole lot awesomer.

Highlights From My Parents Trip

These first two pictures are from the victory celebration in Ghana when they beat the USA in the world cup. I was there with my parents, watching the game on a big theater screen in a bus station parking lot. Thousands paraded up and down the street. It looked like a riot, only everyone was happy instead of angry. My camera couldn't catch the parade of people miles long, it was a pretty special moment for my family and me, and for the country of Ghana, who had never advanced that far in the world cup. Although I was slightly bummed the USA got eliminated from the tournament.

Thes pictures from Elmina castle near Cape Coast in Ghana. This castle is the oldest European building in Sub-saharan africa, built in the 1500's if I remember correctly. It was depressing to see this, but fascinating. We learned a lot about the history of the slave trade and the different countries that have occupied and used the castle in the past.

My parents took many more pictures than I did on the trip. I keep encouraging them to post photos on here and give their outlook on my life here. Hopefully that will come soon.