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.