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?

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!

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 MomThe children that greeted us upon our arrivalFoo 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 presidentSister and her little brother

A few of the children that followed us to one of the churchesGrant's littlest shadows

Joshwa and his mother

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

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.

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.

I am sorry I have not posted in a while. My parents keep telling me that people are asking about the school. It is going well. I would say it is about four fifths finished. There are a few steps left for one classroom, mainly reinforcing the roof supports with concrete, rather than wood. Here are a few pictures so you can see the progress. When school starts up again in September we will finish everything. Thank you all again.

Akloa Falls, Memorial Day. My buddy James and I having fun and generally looking like idiots in all these photos.

James in mid air preparing for a devastating belly flop

You really haven't lived until you've high-fived beneath a waterfall.

Picture of the year? Me jumping from a cliff, I didn't have my measuring tape, but I'd say it was good ten stories high. James, peer-pressuring me to jump/cheering on my foolishness.

Couple of real cool dudes.

In other news: My parents will be visiting me in a few days; yes, here in Africa! I'm a little nervous, but mostly excited.

On the record: It should be a very memorable experience for everyone, as a well as a nice little vacation to Ghana, where I will be be watching that country play in the World Cup and generally getting caught up in all the fandemonium of the tournament.

Off the record: This is Africa, something will happen my parents are not prepared for. In the words of Samuel L. Jackson: "Hold on to your butts."

Grant has asked that we post an informal thank you to the many thoughtful family, friends and blog readers that have responded to his request for donations. As his parents, Terri and I have truly enjoyed your many cards and notes of encouragement and praise that have been sent along with your generous donations. Those cards and notes have been sent on to Grant.

As he has mentioned, you all gave much more then he ever expected or anticipated (4 times what he thought). Your donations have been wired to an account in Togo and building materials are being purchased. He has already lined up the necessary masons from Kamina, his village. Materials such as sand will be obtained near his village.

Please accept this published post as a small but greatly appreciated and wholehearted "shout out" to all of you. Donations have come all the way from Richmond, Virginia to Sacramento, California; from Hoboken, New Jersey to Peoria, Arizona and from Sequim, Washington, Missoula, Montana, Portland, Oregon and Omaha, Nebraska and many places in between.

So here we go, first from around Oregon: thanks to Bonnie in Grants Pass, Steve and Donna, The Dalles; Denise in Salem; Alexis and Bill, Milwaukie, Jim and Shelia, Eugene; Pete and Jean, Lake Oswego; Jerry and Jane, Oregon City; Patrick, Mollala; Edd and Sharon, Wilsonville; John and Mary, Eugene; Charlie and Cathy, Tualatin.

And from Portland, Tim and Mary, Jim and Morley, Max, Jim and Christine, Ray and Denissia, Dana, Molly (formerly, Missoula), Cathy L, Dave and Peggy, Alex, Peter, Randy and Jan, Silka and Harris, Stephanie, John and Kathy, Dick and Teresa, Allison and Bill, and Ron and Terri.

From Washington, Rose and Frank, and Sally, Seattle; Peggy and Shirley, Sequim and Ken and Pam, Tacoma.

From Missoula, Kim, Forrest, Bill and Betsy, Amy, Heidi and the really awesome young people at Taco del Sol.

And finally to you from afar; Danna and Justin, Hoboken, NJ; Mariam and Paul, Honeybrook, Pa.; Conor and Katherine, Richmond, Va.; Laurie and Gerhard, Sacramento, Ca.; Judy and Mel, Peoria, Az.; Susie(formerly, Missoula)now Meridian, Ida.; and Tom in Omaha, Nebraska.

Keep you eyes on his blog as he will update progress as best he can. Terri and I will be visiting him in his village in June and will also take lots of pictures.

We can not thank you enough for your caring and support of Grant.

Ron and Terri

draft

Thank you to everyone who donated to my school project. I believe my father might list all of you by first name on this blog so you may be recognized and I am planning on the students and teachers to write some kind of thank you letters as well. The support from my community so far has been outstanding. The plans are in place and budgets calculated to lay floors, add walls, improve foundations and structure, and add chalkboards, and a porch connecting the classrooms. If there is enough, we may also try to paint.

I received more money than I ever anticipated which goes to show how caring my friends and family are. I also plan on using a portion of the money, along with some of my salary, to plan field trips for certain students to Atakpame. This is a popular project for education volunteers in Togo. Many young women have never even left their village. In conjunction with my friend and closest neighbor James, we are planning a "Take Your Daughters to Work" field trip, so that the young girls in our village can see professional women in the workplace and be tuned in to opportunities they may not know they have. Many women in small villages like mine lack the opportunities for education, many drop out as teenagers or even younger, and the strongest way to strengthen a population is to educate women. Statistics show that with the education of women, family health improves, children become more nourished, birth rates drop, as does infant mortality. I am excited for the possibility to show some of the brighest girls in my village how far their education can take them.

Also I plan to plant trees around the school, trees the village does not yet know about. I hope I have the chance to educate them on reforestation.

I am also currently applying for a small grant from the embassy to build cisternes in my village, which will be accompanied by presentations on the importance of clean water and hygiene.

I would also like to give a shout out to my friend Laura's blog, L'Afrique en Miniature, which you will find on the list of blogs on the right side of my site. She is planning an even more ambitious project, the construction of a brand new school from the ground up. I encourage you to check it out, if only because she writes much more eloquently on the importance of education than I do.

In other news:

It's hot season, I'm sleeping on the floor in front of a battery operated trying to keep the heat rash at bay (so far unsuccessfully). I sweat when I eat. I sweat when I read, I even sweat when I shower.

I completed my year as an editor for our Peace Corps news magazine. Now four others will take over the job. It was an awesome experience going down to the capital every few months(Although incredibly stressful, as I seemingly demonstrated when we finally finished all our work, went to a Togolese night club, and refused to share a bottle of Grant's whiskey because "it's totally got my name on it.")

Just played in a soccer tournament. Peace Corps Volunteers versus Togoles villages. We got whipped. But did score, prompting me to rip my shirt off and do the airplane all around the field.

Peace Corps recently increased their budget worlwide, thus increasing the number of volunteers. Because of this, some Peace Corps countries are encouraging closing volunteers to extend their service for a third year. Some people I know are entertaining that option; I assure you, I am not. This has been quite an experience, something I would never trade, but lately I have felt like I am missing out on a lot of my life in the United States. I imagine that at the end of this, I will be eager to get home to America. I miss you guys, but I'm not done with Togo quite yet. And I have a feeling my last seven months could be the most memorable and fulfilling.

Please read my last post so you know why I am sending you these photos. These are several of the current "before" photos of the primary and secondary school buildings in my village. The first two are the primary school. The next 4 are the secondary school and the last photo is the teachers lounge. Thank you for your consideration and willingness to help.

Dear Readers,

When I was home for the holidays, some people I talked to expressed interest in helping me financially, if I were to do a large project during my second year of service. With that, I am officially asking for your help, if you would be so willing.

I live next door to the middle school principal and the geography teacher. They have been more than kind to me during my time in village, have given me meals, included me in local customs and holidays, and answered all of what they probably considered to be my dumb questions. The teachers in my village work hard and their school is in need of some work. The roof is there and qlso some of the floors have been laid. But it is incomplete. Year after year the village tries to add little finishes here and there as it can afford it. The walls are made of cheap palm branches which rot and must be replaced every year (the backside of the school doesn't even have walls), some classrooms flood with water during heavy rains, the teachers meeting "room" is a just a straw roof on stilts.

Beginning in April I plan on pledging some of my volunteer salary, depending on how much I am able to save, to buying cement, hiring masons, laying floors and building walls. I want to paint the drab cement walls (and depending, paint an educational mural or map on one side of the school).

I want to landscape around the school planting trees and teaching about the environment. Also depending, and if necessary, I may purchase new blackboards, desks, and other supplies for the teachers and students. There is literally no end to the things we could do with the money, which is why the professors and I are currently prioritizing everything into a list.

There is no target goal for the amount of money I want to raise for the school. The teachers and the village have not asked me for anything, they don't expect to get it all and are very grateful for the opportunity to improve their school. I want to do this for them because I believe education is the cornerstone of development, and the proper facilities can make a difference.

When I first told my neighbors about my desire to give them a "cadeau" (gift) my friend the professor said, "If you give us enough for one desk, we will build a desk. If you give us enough for desks and walls and floors, we will do that too. Everything will be good."

That is why I am excited and optimistic about doing this, they were very receptive to my ideas and are motivated to get things done. While many volunteers are skeptical to do large projects like this, I will be working with two teachers I trust completely, and I know that no money would go to waste.

My deadline for collecting money will APRIL 1, if you are interesting in giving a little (5, 10, 20 dollars, or whatever you want, you will find that a little can go a long way over here) contact my parents at the following email:

ronterrhodes@comcast.net

Or, if you already know them; just give them a call. They will be collecting the money and sending it to me in one lump sum after April 1. There are safe and efficient ways to send money here in Togo.

And I am sorry I can not offer the proper piece of paper for you in order to claim it as a charitable donation on your taxes.

I was planning on posting photos today of the school but the internet cafe is not cooperating, but when I go to the capital in April I will post before photos and then after photos so you can see what you have created.

Lastly, I understand that the American economy is not exactly doing great right now and that many people choose to support charitable causes closer to home (which is outstanding and commendable). I certainly don't expect much from you, the reader, except to read, enjoy and laugh at my blog; that's why I created this. So just this one time, I humbly request your assistance.

Regards,

Grant Rhodes

I come back from the states and manage to catch a stiltwalking festival in my regional capital. Enjoy the photos. Overall, my trip home to the states was great. Seeing friends and family from all over was fantastic. I dreaded answering the same questions over and over about my service, but seeing how interested you all were, it really wasn't that bad. I enjoyed all the questions and telling you about life as a Peace Corps Volunteer in West Africa. The one thing I forgot about the United States is that people generally don't like talking about diarrhea (which is contrary to Peace Corps Volunteers), so I had to stop my stories short a few times. Also it appears all most of you wanted to know is how I could have possibly eaten dog, which is something I still struggle to answer myself. I hope everyone doesn't think Africa has "changed" me too much (unless it was for the better). At times I felt indifferent about things at home; what movie to see, what restaurant to eat at, what bar to drink at. But by then of my American sojourn I remembered one of those many truths Peace Corps makes you realize: We don't love the places we go and the things we do as much as we appreciate the people that are a part of those things. It was a sincere pleasure seeing everyone. Things to look forward to in my second year of service: Togolese Presidential elections in February. Emergency plans are in place in case of any kind of unrest occurs. Things should be suspenseful. I personally don't follow politics here and am not able to opine on anything. But I hope things go as smoothly as possible. My parents visit in June. I help complete the school in my village. More info on this to come in the next month. I eat more weird stuff. This is pretty much inevitable.

Hey Everyone. I have been having trouble uploading some videos of my service on this blog, so instead I posted them over on facebook. If you have a facebook account, log on and find them under my profile. They are pretty entertaining.

Some neighbor kids. This looks out into the courtyard in front of my house. Chicken coop and small lumber pile on left, clothes line for laundry on the right. and a typical mud brick home straight ahead in the background. A typical picture of a compound in Togo.

A spider I found in my shower. The biggest I have ever seen, notice it compared to the other spiders to the left of the pencil. Enormous (leg span about the size of my hand)! This sits directly above my head while I bathe myself, which is a comforting thought.

My village market on a non-market day. Every Tuesday, this is filled with hundreds of people selling goods out of the little grass huts.

A child wanders through the empty market.

The village mosque. While predominantly Christian, there is a good size Muslim population in my village, mostly people who come from Northern Togo, where most of the Muslim people of Togo live.

Village dispensary/medical clinic. Where villagers go for minor medical problems. For serious medical problems, one must go to a city hospital which is a few hours drive from my village. Unfortunately, some people can't afford the city hospitals or the travel away from home.

My next door neighbors, Mathias and Marie-Claire. A school teacher and a seamstress. The coolest Togolese people I know and I eat most of my meals with them.

The dog, Suru. My neighbors bought her a few months ago. (This one isn't for eating, this is for petting)

Felix, the man in the middle, and his family. A man I work with in village and helps me out a lot. His daughter Marina, the one holding the radio, is one of my favorite kids in village. Very adorable.

The Catholic church. Probably the nicest building in village, it was built by Italian missionaries a number of years ago.

The inside of the church.

My neighbor Grace. She is terrified of me.

I'm getting a little closer, she's getting a little nervous.

I get to close and she freaks out and cries.

Some kids at a village funeral. Funerals here are not somber affairs, but rather weekend long celebrations with music and dancing.

An old man banging the drums at the funeral.

Some old women at the funeral who were ecstatic to have their pictures taken, despite their solemn expressions. The fact that they can see the little picture in the camera just moments after I take it blows their minds.

If you haven't heard the news (I think it was a sidebar on the front page of The Times), I'm returning to The United States of America for Christmas, New Years, and general shenanigans. December 21st to Jan 13th, I'll be eating nothing but bagels and cream cheese, watching college football, and drinking American microbrews. And seeing all of you course. I'll also have lots of quality internet time to update more photos (including a portfolio of my village and a very disturbing meal) and wax philosphical. Stay tuned and keep your eye out for me, I'll be the guy wearing bright colors, gawking at the flush toilets.

A Presentation in a neighboring village on Moringa Trees. Moringa is called a miracle tree by volunteers. Its very healthy to eat the leaves, can be easily planted and cared for, and improve the soil. But most people don't know about them so we try to plant many and educate the community as much as possible.

A little rasta kid coming to see our Moringa presentation. Everyone with dread locks in Togo is called a Rasta.

Creating a tree nursery for Moringa

A pretty good turn-out at this presentation

My buddy James on his birthday with a bunch of kids in his village. Like me, James must deal with kids constantly coming into his yard looking through his screen door and windows. I was changing clothes one time in the front room of his house and as buttoned my pants I look over to see a little boy curiously looking through the bars of James window. "Uh James, I think your little neighbor just saw me naked." Lesson Learned.

Some women on their way to the market.

On a hike through the Akebou mountains

A dirty creek, one of many you find out in the bush. Most of the time their are stepping stones or a small plank of wood to cross, sometimes you just gotta get wet and hope the snail fever stays away.

The view by my village

Wake up. Breakfast. Beans. This morning. Every morning. The only food I can still say I enjoy. Not that I dislike anything here. It’s just that after awhile, you become indifferent. Food is sustenance, flavor’s a luxury. The Peace Corps: The only two years of your life when you crave black eyed peas at 6am.

I walk down the street one hundred meters to “the bean lady.” 30 cents worth. If I’m starving, 40 cents. All along the way I greet people walking down the street, sweeping, sitting outside on their step. People bath behind cheaply made outdoor wooden showers. Motorcycles speed by, goats scatter. Bonjour! Ca va? Orou! Kla Kla les? Greetings are important here. When I run to people I have to answer a series of questions. How are you? And the house? And the health? And the maison? And your day? And your trip?

I finish breakfast. I return home. Noku Nyaro. Sometimes around mid-morning, a small army of children gather on my porch. If I have forgotten to lock my screen door, sometimes they come inside while I’m laying down. I hear them tip toeing around my front room looking for balloons, milk candy, or magazines. Their favorite activity? Flipping through old Economists and ripping out the little cardboard subscription cards inside. They love them. I can’t explain why. Most of the time I’m happy to have them. They are entertaining. I know some of their names. Maddie. Claire, Adilene. Mostly western names only pronounced with such thick accents you wouldn’t recognize them. (My two year old neighbor’s name is Joshua, pronounced zjay-zjoo-way) Sometimes they want to do laundry for me. I happily oblige to give them my dirty clothes in exchange for a couple cents and a red balloon. But sometimes I have to yell at them to go home. Moku Nyaro!

One recent morning, My friend James and I go on a long hike. We lose ourselves in the mountains. We run into local farmers and women on their way to the nearest market. We drink palm wine from an old oil can given to us by a local hunter. It’s awful. We stumble upon a few creeks, a few fuulani huts (nomadic herdsmen of West Africa), even a few cocoa trees, where we eat the sweet milky colored pulp inside. Everyone wants to know where we are going? Aloku Fin? We tell them no where in particular, just a morning pleasure hike. They look at us strangely. Americans are so bazaar. It starts to get really hot. We take our shirts off. 20 minutes later we are sunburned. Oh yeah, we live on the equator. Whoops.

Lunch. James and I each and some pates with okra sauce, which when prepared becomes the exact consistency of snot (so much so that Peace Corps volunteers around Africa know it simply as “snot sauce”). Pates is corn mush, the most similar in the states would probably be palenta. When I got to Togo I hated it, but lie I said, now I’m just indifferent. We both have about five bananas each. Located about 17 kilometers east of me deeper in the mountains, James’ village is the self-described banana capital of Togo, where forty cents will buy you about thirty bananas. (He once claimed to have eaten 52 bananas in three days).

The afternoon usually is repos, which is like a mexican siesta. Basically the whole country stops working from Noon to 2:30. I often spend this time trying to determine if my house is hotter than my front porch, than lie down on the concrete and sweat through my clothes for about an hour. I might also visit my village boutique which is probably is stocked better than one would think for a small African village. I can buy bungee cords, cookies, laundry detergent, talcum powder, boxed wine, machetes, coffee, batteries, flashlights, noodles, rice, candy, lighters, and even old dusty bottles of champagne which my friends and I regrettably bought on my birthday. Walking home from the boutique I can cut through the market place, which is open every Tuesday, or stick to the roads. The road is raised higher up than the homes, making me feel like a model on a runway, on display to the people of my village as I walk. People call out my name. Well not my name exactly but something like it. Laura, Sara, Ally (the three volunteers before me), Yovo (the Ewe word for white person), Anasara (the Kabye word for white person), Warerani (the Akebou word for white person), le blanche (the French word for white person), L’Americain, Mon frere, mon ami, monsieur, or else something that sounds like it starts with a g that could possibly be my name. Some kids are able to say Grant (remember to roll the r and put a u in between the a and n. Grrrraunt!). Most just say Grraaaaauuuuuuu, holding the u until they run of breath.

If my friend James happens to be in village, we, of course, always remember to play Frisbee out on my village soccer field. We always time it right when school lets out so hundreds of kids trudge home across the field and stop and gape out the mystifying orange disc which seems to hover above the Earth. James and I routinely whip thirty yard tosses to each other while Togolese kids pick it up and, in all throwing manners, like a shot put, like a baseball, like a javelin, chuck it three feet before it tumbles end over end to the ground. Some times in front of them, some times behind them. This would probably go on all night if we don’t eventually confiscate it and tell them they must go home. We yell them we will play the same game tomorrow. Yokou soso!

The evening arrives. I sit outside in my courtyard embracing the cool breeze. I eat with my neighbors, fufu, I’ve talked about this before, negatively. But my hatred again grew to indifference, but has recently grown again to enjoyment. I love it now. Nata fue! This is evidenced by a recent basketball sized- bowl my friends and I finished and swore had to be some kind of a record. It really is pretty good. Which I guess goes to show that the more you eat something, eventually you learn to accept it.

Sometimes after dinner l’infirmiere plays European soccer games on his t.v. out in front of his house. He has a satellite and a generator and charges ten cents entry to watch the match. There I sit huddled under a blue tarp squinting to make out the players on the tiny screen, hearing the steady hum of the generator, cheering for whichever team has an African on it. Although, Peace Corps Volunteers never forget their allegiance to their country, which got us in trouble once in our regional capital, Atakpame. The United States was playing Brazil, and as we walked into the bar chanting, U-S-A, U-S-A, all the Togolese men coincidentally became Brazil fans, cheering for Ronaldo, and shushing us with each goal against The States. After some brief cross-room smack talk, we realized we were on Togolese turf, and exited quietly when the U.S. blew a second half lead.

And I probably go to bed earlier than most eight year olds in the States, 8:00 to 8:30, maybe later if in the city. I lay in bed, anxious from my malaria medication, unable to fall asleep. Insomnia. Something I live with most nights here. But it’s better than malaria, most things are, so I continue to take my meds and deal with the side effects. After awhile, I fall asleep.

I just celebrated my year anniversary in Togo and wow does that seem weird. Time here has flown by, yet I feel like I was last in the states lifetimes ago. Its been an insane year, insane in a good way, mostly. Here some random thoughts and anecdotes from my first year. Plus some words of wisdom I have collected from others along the way which I feel pertain to my ability to stay positive1. We've lost some good people from my training group. We started with 31 people when we arrived in country. Now we are down to 20. I don't think this is a reflection on Peace Corps or Togo. A variety of factors lead to people goin home. Health issues, long-distance relationships, family emergencies, and some probably just didn't have their heart in this from the beginning. There have been a lot of days when I wanted to go home. I've been taunted, bullied and ripped off. I was sick for my first four months. I've lost 40 pounds (but put 13 back on), I had heat rash for a months straight on my entire body, I sweat constantly during the dry season, I've sunburned, had my pocket picked in a market place (but I caught the guy right afterwards), suffered acne breakouts, a motorcycle crash, hallucinations from my malaria medication, and I suspect something called snail fever. When I see all that written out, it looks pretty bad, but here's the weird thing. I laugh at it and I cherish it, because it's all part of the adventure. If life were easy, we would never learn anything from it. Besides, the great times far outnumber the bad; unfortunately, too many people rarely remember that."It's the very struggle of life that makes us who we are. And it is our enemies that test us, provide us with the resistance necessary for growth." -The Dalai Lama"It is when the ice and snow are on them that we see the strength of the cypress and the pine." -Chuang-tse2. I once had a five minute conversation with my village boutique owner trying to convince him that I am indeed, a white person, and not a "black american," as he thought. When I told him that black Americans look just like Togolese people, he didn't believe me, and when I told him they live all over, amongst white people, he nearly fainted. Easily the funniest conversation I've had here so far. Togo: where being mistaken for black happens. I have also discussed with this man how kids in America also get dirty sometimes and that we do in fact work with our hands (he was convinced machines do everything)."If I had been as capable of trust as I am of fear I might of learned something new or some truth so very old we have all forgotten it." -Edward Abbey"He...changed human beings by regarding them not as what they thought they were but as though they were what they wished to be, and that the good in them was all of them." -Louis Fischer, The Life of Mahatma Gandhi3. You get a lot of reading done with no electricity to distract you, so here is a brief list of good stuff. We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda by Philip Gourevitch. Completely depressing and violent, but rendered me speechless, an important book. Also check out The Village of Waiting by George Packer, about his Peace Corps service in Togo back in the 80's. Both men write for The New Yorker and are very talented journalists. For Non-Africa related reading: The Omnivore's Dilemma, Mountains Beyond Mountains, The Hobbitt and (two which only get better each time I read them) Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey and A Separate Peace by John Knowles."The strength of a man's virtue should not be measured by his special exertions, but by his habitual acts." -Blaise Pascal"Acting responsibly is not a matter of strengthening our reason but of deepening our feelings for the welfare of others." -Jostein Gaarder4. My village is almost inaccessible by car right now because the roads have gotten so bad due to the rainy season. Here are the statistics from my most recent trip to Pagala:

Distance traveled: 54 kilometers (33 miles)

Duration of journey: 5 hours

Number of times stuck in mud which required getting out and pushing: 3

Number of times car wouldn’t start: 4

Number of times stuck tractor trailer blocked the route: 1

Number of car windows broken: 1

Number of times car fish-tailed back and forth through the mud: 23

Number of kilometers walked because car was too heavy to make it through certain sections: 2

Five hours to go 33 miles. I arrived in Pagala sun-burned, dirty and pissed-off, but there were two birthday packages waiting for me from the U.S. The rest of the day I ate Skippy peanut butter while reading Esquire magazine, making the trip totally worth it. "The one great glory of traveling is that hardship is always redeemed by commotion recollected in tranquility." -Pico Iyer"The only aspect of our travel that is guaranteed to hold an audience is disaster." -Martha Gellhorn5. Work update: I recently planted a bunch of tomatoes in anticipation of the end of rainy season. Overall, I give my garden a grade of a C for this year. It was a bit of a learning experience but I had some success. I got some people interested in planting new vegetables and next year hope to go even bigger, planting more and showing more modernized farming techniques with a demonstration field. I just distributed all my moringa trees to people in my village. Hopefully, by the time I leave, most of the village will have the trees in their compounds. Their leaves are great for infants fighting malnourishment and their seeds can be used to purify water. It's a bit of a miracle tree. My sunflower campaign was semi-successful. I wasn't able to harvest the seeds very well. Their was way too much rain. I'm going to try again though this fall when the rain lets up. And some people are interested in planting them next year."To him who dwells not in himself, the forms of things reveal themselves as they are. He moves like water, reflects like a mirror, responds like an echo. His lightness makes him seem to disappear. Still as a clear lake, he his harmonious in his relations with those around him, and remains so through profit and loss. He does not precede others, but follows them instead." Chuang-tse5. Many people I have met here, American and Togolese, have been nothing short of amazing. I am lucky to have met all of them. While everyone's service is different, sometimes drastically, we volunteers all share many of the same moments, highs and lows, language and cultural barriers and many times we can't get through it without eachother. Often, we only need someone to laugh with, or complain to, and for that they have quickly become like family, and I will be perpetually thankful. I also get through tough times in village with the generosity of my Togolese neighbors. Whether it be when they give me hearty servings of watchee or koliko, or when they take me on a trip across the village because they know I like to see dead snakes, their hospitality is truly under-rated."I have three treasures,which I guard and keep. The first is compassion. The second is economy. The third is humility. From compassion comes courage. From economy comes the means to be generous. From humility comes responsible leadership." -Lao-TseAnd finally thank you to the readers who follow my adventures. I have had comments written from friends, family and complete strangers all across the country. So Thank You Portland, Missoula, Tacoma, Seattle, Sacramento, Fort Collins, St James Hospital in Chicago Illinois, and to all the rest. It's comforting to know you are all thinking of me. At night when I lay on my bench and look up at the Milky Way streaking across the sky and disappearing behind my house, I think of all of you too. "If it's a clear night, we can see millions, even billions of years back into the history of the universe. So in a way, we are going home.....we are trying to find the way back to ourselves." Jostein Gaarder"Then along comes the journalist who has a license to explain things he doesn't understand." Bill Moyers

I'm here in Lome for a week. Hope you enjoy the pictures. I'll try to post again before the end of the week. Peace.

The big brown thing is snake liver. It was pretty tasty, but I don't recommend snake skin. A little chewy, yet crunchy at the same time, plus the smell was pretty repulsive

Koliko: Togolese french fries, served best with a hot pepper sauce.

Watch your step!

Another enormously thick snake caught near my village.

Remember: Don't stray from trails.

Picture doesn't do this view justice, but Northern Togo is beautifully expansive with green grassy rolling hills for miles in every direction.

My friends and I celebrating a little. We had three birthdays in a one week so we had a joint celebration.

Fufu with peanut sauce

Kids here go crazy for balloons. (note to mom: please send more balloons)

My 25th birthday. Despite the smile, reaching a quarter century was depressing. My quarter life crisis was pretty brutal, but I got through it with boxed red wine and a few good friends.

I am getting doused with baby powder. They cake it all over themselves and then dance. At one point a group of Togolese men lifted me up on their shoulders and danced around. My friends didn't get a picture of this because they were "laughing too damn hard."

Persed lips, hunched back, the dorky thumbs up: That is the official lame white man dance.

Wrestling at the Evela Festival

Evela Wrestling Festival. They hang dogs from trees and then eat them later.

Picking insects off my leg

He's searching for bananas down my shirt.

He was adorable, but a little scary. They got some sharp teeth.

I fulfilled one of my main PC goals: Befriend a monkey.

Some young campers selling goods they made at the market.

My cabin. The Lionkillers!

Jake and James hanging out watching the campers at the market.

My cabin's banner they made. We were known as the Lionkillers!

Camp Espoir 2009: The Camp we run for AIDS orphans. It was an awesome week. Here is everyone dancing around a campfire.

Author's note: I decided to make the title to this post as straightforward as possible so you know what you're getting into. Next month I travel to Lome where I will post lots of pictures with captions. I promise!

Eating Dog

The Evela wrestling festival takes place every summer in Kabye villages around Togo. The Kabye people are an ethnic group from the North, known to sometimes eat dog. So when I went to visit this year’s festival in my friend’s village, I was prepared to try it. In the morning, the young men douse themselves in talcum powder and wrestle in a giant circle. On the outside of the circle, and in trees scattered around the village, hang dead dogs. Strung up by their necks, the dogs dangle lifelessly with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. (Pictures to come soon) I watch the men go through the same routines they do with goats. Light a fire. Burn off the hair. Cut off the head. Place burnt head on stake. Make dog-kebobs.

I enter a straw hut with my friends Jocelyn and Nicole, two other PC volunteers who have already made the decision not to try it. But I have been talking for weeks about how I was going to try dog at this festival, so I couldn’t back out at this point. As I take my first bite, my friends note how I am noticeably shaking. I struggle to keep a steady hand as I pop the gristly morsel into my mouth. While I chewed my mind was bombarded with visions of all the dogs I have ever had. Kacy chasing the tennis ball. Abby fogging up the glass on our front door. As I take a second and third piece, and chew through the fat and the pieces of skin with fur still attached, I try to pinpoint the flavor. Not quite chicken but not quite beef. Then I realize, and maybe this is my mind playing tricks on me, the meat tastes exactly how a dog’s breath smells. I gag on the fourth piece. I take two shots of Sodabe and decide I’m done here.

Eating Cat

I had a cat, although it wasn’t technically just my cat. My neighbors had a cat when I moved in, and he often slept on my porch or on my lap as I read, purring as I scratched him behind the ears. Sometimes I fed him scraps of rice or spaghetti and he would hunt and kill mice in my latrine. We had a pleasant agreement. Not anymore though. The cat, who we affectionately called Pousse, is dead now. I ate him. I was tricked into eating my friend, thereby breaking the long standing rule most of us Americans live by:

ONCE THOUGH PETTETH AN ANIMAL, THOU SHALT NEVER EATETH IT.

The story: My neighbor, Pastor, had a brother visiting from the city. Being it a special occasion, the decided to kill a cat and eat a cat, not a usual practice in my village. I emerge from my house one morning and find them preparing it. I believe they have bought a cat from someone. I am a little weary and still sleepy, but eventually convince me to try some of this delicious cat. And it really is delicious. The woman has prepared it crispy on the outside and moist on the inside. It’s like fried chicken with a dash of hot pepper sauce on it. I eat a leg, the liver, and a little brain. I politely refuse the eyeball.

My other neighbor Matthias, chooses not to eat the cat, because it is his friend. I feel to grasp the meaning of this statement, thinking he means he doesn’t eat cat at all, which is odd since I often see him eat all other kinds of animals. Marie, his wife, seems particularly elated about eating cat this morning; I never knew she liked cat so much, but she’s from Northern Togo where eating this stuff is more common.

Later that day as I eat with Marie and Matthias, I notice Pousse is not around begging for scraps like he usually is. Marie has always hated Pousse, hitting him when he whines, But Matthias and I always shield him from her and let a little rice or fufu fall off our plates for Pousse to eat. We are the only two people in the compound that show any time of affection toward the cat. I assume the cat is off sleeping somewhere or dutifully killing mice in my shower area.

24 hours later I am eating dinner with my neighbors again. Pousse’s cries for food once again are unheard. In my mind, I think, god I wonder Pousse has run off……..my thought trails off and the reality hits me. Our cat is missing. Matthias refused to eat cat yesterday because it is his friend. Marie was thrilled that we were eating cat yesterday. My other neighbor, the Pastor conveniently found a cat to kill and eat. I was like the detective in the last ten minutes of The Usual Suspects, slowly piecing together all the parts of the story from the giant bulletin board in my brain. I had to know with certainty.

Uh Matthias. You know that cat I ate yesterday.

Yeah.

Was that the cat that lived here?

Huh?

The cat the lived here in this compound, that we fed and petted everyday?

Yeah.

I-I thought it was a different cat.

It doesn’t matter.

But that cat was my friend. I don’t want to eat my friend!

It was mature. And everyone else wanted to eat it so I couldn’t say no.

But even so, I betrayed that cat. He was my friend, and I ate his brain.

It’s not a big deal.

Je ne suis pas content!

Mattias and I eventually decide we must buy a new cat, and I suggest a dog as well. Only this time, no eating the compound pets!

Obviously, I would never eat dog or cat in the United States. But there is the phrase, “cultural relativity,” I always try to keep in mind when I try new things over here. Coming to Togo, I vowed to eat anything once, as long as I didn’t have to know the animal beforehand, a rule I clearly broke when I ate my cat. The Togolese can keep eating dogs and cats every year if they want. To many of them, meat is meat, protein is protein. And I understand and I respect that, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it again.

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

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 dranken 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 here make different types; it's all pretty similar but it is 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.

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

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.

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, 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. 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 different people's service can be from other's. Some volunteers. Some volunteers have electricity plumbing real showers and one even has satellite television. James and I have very rural posts so they might what be more what you expect when you picture a peace corps lifestyle. But we both agreed that the absence of electricity and plumbing any manys types of food isn't 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 both agreed that the hardest part was being in a place where ou don't know anyone and where no one speaks your language. It was a poignant moment for us both and also 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 evryday 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 more interested in how you personally are doing. Peace Corps makes one into a bit of a gossip fiend.

Goodbye for now.

Or Joyeux Noel, rather! I am here in the big city of Atakpame being wowed by the all the tall buildings, and the awesome ability to buy bread (I think not having regular access to bread in my village may be the most difficult thing so far. If anyone truly knows me, you know I love sandwiches) But I will survive (frustration number 2: Being unable to find the apotrophe on these dang french keyboards).

It is interesting how your emotions all seem to be multiplied by ten here. If you are having a crappy day, it is really depressing, like an episode when I was unable to conquer my simple stove. But the good days are amazing!! I have taught my name to a few kids in village,who are adorable, and to hear me called out to correctly really lifts my spirits. (Before, I was Laura, or Sarah or Ally, all past volunteers in my village) Today I watched a few episodes of The West Wing at the Peace Corps house here in the city and found myself getting choked up in a few parts. But in my defense, that show is really powerful.

Overall though my village is still great. People are nice and I joined the village soccer team. Every night I go out and wow them with my thrilling fundamentals of the game. I am like the token white sharp shooter every basketball team should have. I usually do not influence the game a ton but every once awhile I come up with a huge play!

My language skills are slowly improving, so that is a definite plus. My neighbors are incredibly niceand helpful with that. I have also found that an early morning motocycle ride across the African planes with the wind inyour face can be quite the awe-inspiring experience (For the record PC i was wearing my helmet but flipped up the plastic shield to feel the breeze).

That is all for now. And one more thing. CALL ME!!!

My number is:

011 228 986 1984

Or if you have international texting capabilities, text me!!! I would love it.

And thank you to all who have commented on the blog. It really brightens my day. You have no idea. Hopefully soon I will have a cool story about out-running a hippopotamus or something.

Merry Christmas! Go Ducks! Go Blazers! And Bah-Humbug to those Grizzlies!

Im an official Peace Corps Volunteer as of December 4th. Here are some pictures (I've lost twenty pounds. Do I look thinner?):

All the NRM volunteers swearing in.

My closest neighbors during my two years of service

My host Mama and I

The front of my new home for the next two years

The NRM guys

Afrikiko Bar, where we all hung out during training. I have been in Lome, the capital, for a few days buying supplies for post. I bought a big African drum and two bottles of Southern Comfort. I think I'm good to go. Hopefully more pictures to come around christmas time of my village. That is all for now. I've got more to do before leaving for my village tomorrow.

THE GOOD:

Africa is still an amazing place and I am still really enjoying my experience here. We are on a field trip this week in northern Togo. Right now I am in the city of Kara. Here are some random highlights of training so far:

1. Learning my local language, Akebou. Villagers primarily speak this among themselves in my village so it would benefit me to learn it, although most do speak french as well. I still need a lot of practice and once I get to my post I will try to hire someone in the village to educate me further.

2. Halloween here was a blast. Unfortunately, I was unable to uphold my tradition of an animal costume, but I did wear a brightly colored African style toga. I think trying to explain the Animal House reference to my African host mother remains one of my most memorable moments so far. Also, we are having a complete traditional thanksgiving dinner next week which should garner more good memories.

3. Listening to American election results on my short wave radio in my tiny African village, miles from the closest American, yet still speaking about it with my neighbors as if I was back in the states. Needless to say, Obama is big in Africa, many times while walking with friends, we will here a Viva Obama! shout from passing cars or pedestrians.

4. One of my favorite things about living here so far is how everything can be made into clothes. Any style, color, pattern or material can be turned into pants or a shirt. It is great. Just a buy a pagne (paun yeh) which is the brightly colored and multipatterned fabric here, take it to a tailor, three dollars later you have a new outfit that in America would be considered pajamas. Rumor has it, there is a Barack Obama pagne out there. To have his brightly colored face all over your outfit would be truly hilarious and awesome. Me and another guy have made it our unofficial mission to find it.

THE BAD: People in my training group have been robbed and have already gone home to the states. It sucks to have to tell you; but that is the reality of what has happened. But I think if you take the proper precautions here, it is not unsafe here. I think we all have learned important lessons the first couple months.

THE UGLY: It seems like I am always sick. I am right now as I type this. Since arriving I have lost weight, I am not ready to guess just how much, but it worries me because another volunteer that arrived three months before me was sent home due to losing to much weight. I hope once i get to post and eating a more preferable diet the weight loss will stop. And I hope my body adjusts quickly to the environment here so I can remain healthy. Hopefully none of it is a big deal; being in Togo makes me overly concerned about health issues.

I have run out of time. I will talk to you all later.

Hello all. wow where do i begin. first of all sorry for the typos. These french keyboards are a bit frustrating. But i ill get better with practice.

I visited my post for a week. It is amazing. The people are awesome, but very poor, and the children adorable and always ready to kick around a soccer ball...er I mean the football. Get out your Togo maps. It is northwest of the city of Atakpame. About two fifths of the way up the country. If you find the town of Nyamasilla north of Atakpame, then go 42 kilometers west. My post is halfway between the main highway and the Ghana border, deep in the bush.

The town is tiny and the countryside looks like what you imagine the African Serengetti looking like when you close your eyes. Tall grass. Rolling hills in the distance. Dusty roads. I would go for a walk and half expect a lion to jump out at me, but dont worry, theyre not around my village.

Training in Agou Nyogbo is also going great. Today we had to do a skit for our host families. We all played famous Americans. I was pop superstar Justin Timberlake, and naturally, now the whole town is infatuated with my dance moves. My host family is cool. I have three sisters, plus a bunch of other little kids in my compound.

We are going on a field trip next week to Northern Togo. It should be awesome, not unlike my french speaking abilities, which have drastically improved.

I have to wrap this up. I will post something better and more entertaining when I go to a city with better internet. Thanks for reading and I miss everyone. Oh and my health is relatively good. Just some um...interesting stomach issues every once in awhile. And my malaria medication makes me prone to visual hallucinations and very vivid dreams, which can either be a curse or a blessing. Bye for now.

Here's where my mind was one month ago: "Alright Africa, here I come!!! Let's do this already."

Here's where my mind was two weeks ago: "I'm ready to go! Can I go already? I've been ready for, like, months!"

Here's my exact mindset one week ago: "OH MY GOD, I'VE GOT LESS THAN A WEEK! I am so NOT ready to go to Africa. There's so much to do! Things to buy. Bills to pay. Errands to run. Cars to sell. IPOD playlists to meticulously compile. I'm FREAKING out!

Don't worry though, after a frantic few days, I am slightly more relaxed now with just 36 hours to go before I get on the plane to Philadelphia. This may be my last post before Togo (unless I have a gloriously life changing cheesesteak in Philly that demands it's own write-up), so there's a few more things to say here before I go.

(1) The Peace Corps Mission, which consists of three goals:

To help the people of interested countries in meeting their needs for trained men and women;

To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served;

To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of all Americans.

Try to remember this third goal as you read the post. I will try my best to describe the life and culture in Togo, so that everyone back home may have a better grasp on this region of the globe.

Of course, my service will not be easy. It is easy for me now to make jokes now about preparing to leave, and I will try to be as positive and light-hearted as I can during my service, but the reality is at times I may be sad, depressed, angry or frustrated with life here, and that may be reflected in a blog post. I only hope to be as honest as I can about my service and I hope all of you continue to read the good and the bad.

(2) I was lucky enough to meet a few returned volunteers from Togo and some Togolese families living here in Portland. They were very helpful and gave me several people to perhaps contact in Togo when I arrive. I breathed a little easier after having finally met someone who had been to the country. They were all excited for me and said nothing but positive things about Togo and their experience as volunteers.

(3) Once again, this and my email, dustyrhodes27@hotmail.com, will be my main source of communication if you want to reach me.

(4) I want go into a full detailed list of all the things I'm taking, but I will tell you a few of my favorites.

a) my short wave radio

b) my giant bottle of Dr. Bronner's soap

c) my family pictures

d) the luxuries to keep me satisfied, My cribbage board, harmonica, soccer ball, frisbee and of, course, Ipod, which also comes with a solar-powered charger and speakers (to reach my full party-throwing potential).

Ipods are seen as lifesavers for most volunteers nowadays, so I will definitely be guarding it closely.

Finally, Thanks again to everyone who has made my last few months great. To my friends in Missoula, thanks for a great five years of college. Man, remember sophomore year? (yeah me neither, hehe) Hopefully I'll meet up with you people when I get back

Thanks family and old friends of way back when, I'll be thinking about you and missing you dearly.

And everyone remember to ask yourself this: How many times in life will you have the opportunity to have a great adventure in Africa, travel around with an english speaking tour guide, with a free home to stay in, and with a great friend/son/brother at you side?

My Togolese home will always be open to you.

Very Truly Yours,

Grant

P.S. And if someone could Tivo "Lost" for me, I'd really appreciate it.

Dear Families and Friends,

Greetings from the Togo Desk in Washington, D.C. It is with great pleasure that we welcome your family member to the Togo training program. Over the years we have received many questions from Volunteers and family members alike regarding travel plans, sending money, relaying messages and mail, etc. As we are unable to involve ourselves in the personal arrangements of Volunteers, we would like to offer you advice and assistance in advance by providing specific examples of situations and how we suggest they be handled.

1. Irregular Communication. (Please see #3 for the mailing address to Peace Corps' office in Lomé the capital of Togo). The mail service in Togo is not as efficient as the U.S. Postal Service. Thus, it is important to be patient. It can take from three to four weeks for mail coming from Togo to arrive in the United States via the Togolese mail system. From a Volunteer’s post, mail might take up to one to two months to reach the United States depending upon how far the Volunteer is from the capital city, Lomé. Sometimes mail is hand carried to the States by a traveler and mailed through the U.S. postal system. This leg of the trip can take another several weeks as it is also dependent on the frequency of travelers to the U.S.

We suggest that in your first letters, you ask your Volunteer family member to give an estimate of how long it takes for him or her to receive your letters and then try to establish a predictable pattern of how often you will write to each other. Also try numbering your letters so that the Volunteer knows if he or she missed one. Postcards should be sent in envelopes--otherwise they may be found on the wall of the local post office.

Peace Corps Togo has established “The Lomé Limo” which runs up and down the country monthly, delivers mail, medical supplies, and sometimes volunteers or staff to central sites along the national road.

Volunteers often enjoy telling their “war” stories when they write home. Letters might describe recent illnesses, lack of good food, isolation, etc. While the subject matter is often good reading material, it is often misinterpreted on the home front. Please do not assume that if your family member gets sick that he or she has not been attended to. The city of Lomé has medical and dental facilities, and there is a Peace Corps Medical Officer there as well. Most Volunteers can reach Lomé in less than one day’s time. Many Volunteers also have access to a telephone so that they can call our Medical Office. In the event of a serious illness the Volunteer is sent to Lomé and is cared for by our Medical Unit. If the Volunteer requires medical care that is not available in Togo, he/she will be medically evacuated to South Africa or to the United States. Fortunately, such circumstances are very rare.

If for some reason your communication pattern is broken and you do not hear from your family member for at least one month, you should contact the Office of Special Services (OSS) at Peace Corps in Washington at 1-800-424-8580, extension 1470 (or direct: 202-692-1470). The OSS will then call the Peace Corps Director in Lomé, and ask her to check up on the Volunteer. Also, in the case of an emergency at home (death in the family, sudden illness, etc.), please do not hesitate to call OSS immediately, so that the Volunteer can be informed by a member of Peace Corps/Togo staff.

2. Telephone Calls. The telephone system in Togo has fairly reliable service to the United States. In the interior of the country, where most of our Volunteers are located, the system is less reliable. Most Volunteers have access to a telephone in or nearby their site.

When dialing direct to Togo from the U.S., dial 011 (the international access code) + 228 (the country code) + the number. Volunteers generally set up phone calls with people in the U.S. in advance, and have the distant party call them, which is much less expensive than calling the U.S. from Togo. Many volunteers decide to purchase cellphones once they arrive in Togo, but they may not always have regular reception at their site.

The Togo Desk in Washington, D.C. usually calls the Peace Corps office in Lomé at least once a week. However, these calls are reserved for business only and we cannot relay personal messages over the phone. If you have an urgent message, however, and have exhausted your other means (regarding travel plans, etc.), you can call the Desk, and the message will be relayed.

3. Sending Packages. Parents and Volunteers like to send and receive care packages through the mail. Unfortunately, sending packages can be a frustrating experience for all involved due the high incidence of theft and heavy customs taxes. You may want to send inexpensive items through the mail, but there is no guarantee that these items will arrive. We do not recommend, however, that costly items be sent through the mail. Even though many Volunteers sometimes choose to get local post office boxes, you may always use the following address to send letters and/or packages to your family member:

John Doe, PCV

Corps de la Paix

B.P. 3194

Lomé, Togo

West Africa

It is recommended that packages be sent in padded envelopes if possible, as boxes tend to be taxed more frequently. Packages can be sent via surface mail (2-3 weeks arrival time) or by ship (4-6 months). The difference in cost can be a factor in deciding which method to utilize. For lightweight but important items (e.g. airline tickets), DHL (an express mail service) does operate in Lomé, but costs are very expensive. If you choose to send items through DHL, you must address the package to the Country Director, s/c Corps de la Paix, 48 Rue de Rossignols, Quartier Kodjoviakopé, Lomé, Togo. The telephone number for the Peace Corps office in Togo is (228) 221-0614, should DHL need this information. If you send the item to the Country Director, no liability can be assumed. For more information about DHL, please call their toll free number, 1-800-CALL-DHL, or visit their web site at www.dhl.com. Please be aware that there is a customs fee for all DHL packages sent to Volunteers. For each DHL package, the Volunteer will be taxed 10,000 CFA (roughly US$20).

Sending airplane tickets and/or cash is not recommended. Certain airlines will allow you to buy a prepaid ticket in the States; they will telex their Lomé office to have the ticket ready. Unfortunately, this system is not always reliable. Many airlines (e.g., KLM, Air France, Ghana Airways, Air Togo) fly into Lomé or Accra, but each has its own policy on pre-paid tickets. Please call the airline of your choice for more information. You could also send tickets via DHL as mentioned previously. However, Peace Corps will assume no liability in the event of a lost/stolen airline ticket.

Trying to send cash or airline tickets is very risky and is discouraged. If your Volunteer family member requests money from you, it is his/her responsibility to arrange receipt of it. Some Volunteers use Western Union, which has an office in Lomé. Volunteers will also be aware of people visiting the States and can request that they call his/her family when they arrive in the States should airline tickets need to be sent back to Togo.

4. E-mail. There is fairly reliable e-mail service in Togo with cyber cafes in most large towns. Connections can be very slow and time consuming as well as costly. E-mail, however, may become the preferred method of communication between you and your family member in Togo. Not all Volunteers have access to e-mail on a daily basis but they should be able to read and send messages at least once a month. As with other means of communication, do not be alarmed if you do not receive daily or weekly messages. Unless in Lomé at the office, Volunteers have to pay for internet time at cyber cafes and this can be a slow or expensive process depending on the connection at the café.

We hope this information is helpful to you during the time your family member is serving as

a Peace Corps Volunteer in Togo. We understand how frustrating it is to communicate with your family member overseas and we appreciate your using this information as a guideline. Please feel free to contact us at the Togo Desk in Washington, DC, if you have further questions. Our phone number is (800) 424-8580, ext. 2326/2325, or locally at (202) 692-2326/2325.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Brown, Country Desk Officer

Evan Baker, Country Desk Assistant

Sorry if that was a lot to read. Here's an adorable picture to make up for it.

It's safe to assume I'm going to have a lot of down time to read while in Togo. While there are libraries at all the Peace Corps outposts for me to use, I am bringing about five books of my own to enjoy. Volunteers are constantly swapping books with others, always trying to keep their bedside tables full with "to-be-reads."

My books are the first in a series of favorite things I will have to leave behind, but will probably try ever so unsuccessfully to squeeze into my luggage. But some I have to bring. They are not necessarily my all-time top five, but they did qualify once I considered the following completely arbitrary qualifications.

1) Re-Readability.

2) The Book's ability to represent me and where I came from.

3) Uniqueness. Will these books already be in Togo/be read by other volunteers.

4) Other Random Variables. These include length, quotability and conversation-starting potential.

This feels like a "desert island" top five, if you had to be stranded with only five books, what would they be? Well, I'm hardly stranded in Africa, but nonetheless, here's what I can't leave home without.

The River Why by David James Duncan

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey

Honorable Mention: A River Runs Through It, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Ishmael, High Fidelity, Into the Wild, The Hot Zone, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Caps For SaleWhat would you take?

"Still, I was uncomfortable with the do-gooder image. I wasn't a crusader. My goal was to help a few villages on that continent live slightly better lives. There was nothing more spectacular about it than that.

The motivation was also partly selfish. Four years of college had just produced a diploma with my name on it, but no clear instructions on how to proceed. According to widely accepted social timetables, it was time to start paying taxes and voting and putting a little something into a 401(K) retirement plan each month. It was time, in short, to be a real person. But each time I looked inside myself, no real person seemed to be lacing up his boots, ready to step out. Where was he? Who was he? What kind of work would he do? I wasn't sure. Living in Africa, stripped nearly naked of my own culture, I hoped to give my deepest feelings a chance to produce some answers. I hoped to travel my inner continent, in other words, and come back with a better focused picture."

This passage is from The Ponds of Kalambayi by Mike Tidwell. It chronicles his Peace Corps service in Zaire in the 80's. It's a great book if you're ever interested in serving in the P.C. Tidwell writes honestly and has made me realize a little more about how potentially rewarding but emotionally taxing this entire experience could be.

I also like this passage, because this is similar to the way I feel about volunteering (which is now less than one month away). I am just one person trying to help a few others, but trying to help myself just the same.

This is me looking at the sunset in Tobago last summer. One might interpret it as me looking towards my future. It's a subtle metaphor I know. Don't worry, this blog will be packed full of cheesy metaphors, mostly about my future, the society we live in, and the century-long futility of the Chicago Cubs.

So you might be wondering...

Grant, did you get to choose where you went?

Well, yes and no. I preferred Africa or Asia, (which doesn't really narrow it down much), and I have a background in French. That, and apparently the fact that French speaking males are somewhat of a rarity in P.C., landed me a nomination for West Africa, a region that primarily speaks French, though I will have to learn my local tribal language as well, depending on where I live in Togo. I also seemed to have fortunate timing during my application process. I have heard people taking two years to get into P.C., but I got the whole process done in about four months and nabbed one of the last spots in my program.

Do they pay you in P.C?

They give me a "modest living allowance" to live at the level of others in my village. I hear it's enough for the necessities and some extra for fun and travel.

What will you miss the most while in Africa?

I can't think of any one thing, but I will miss those moments when you really connect among friends and family; they are hard to describe, but they make you feel good, like you're secure in your place and you are a part of something special (I guess you could call it my "comfort zone.") Hopefully, I can create those moments in Africa in time.

So, are you going to, like, get AIDS, or something?

No, I will not get AIDS, I will take the necessary precautions. I might get a case of malaria, though, possibly avain flu, yellow fever, hepatitis A, or something called schistosomiasis. But P.C. has a crack team of doctors on hand. My health and safety is their number one concern.

Be honest, Grant, are you going to die?

Absolutely not. Don't worry about me. It's going to be a fantastic experience.

Grant, I miss you already! When do you get back?

December 2010. I'll be gone for 27 months, please come visit me.

You must be so nervous/excited!

Yes, I am nervous, but it's a good kind of nervous, like the kind of nerves you get when kissing a beautiful women for the first time. And, yes, extremely excited, too.

But what are you really excited about? Like, the stuff you don't want to tell the Peace Corps about?

Well....okay, I'm totally pumped to own a machete so I can go swinging it through the jungle. I've always thought it would be really cool to ride a camel (or elephant), though I doubt there will be any in Togo. I want to go fishing for Tigerfish. I'd really like to gain duel citizenship and earn a spot on Togo's World Cup roster. I want to give a cobra the "kiss of death," fall in love with a women who doesn't speak my language, and instill a love, in my Togolese neighbors, for classic American music, notably Talking Heads, The Boss, The Beach Boys and James Brown (But if they could learn to appreciate the quiet genius of Huey Lewis & the News, then I know I will have made a difference).

Grant, what if the Cubs win the World Series when you're gone?

Ha, your joking right? Besides, you can't talk about it, or you might jinx them. So quiet down.

Haha Grant you're so witty and adorable, will you marry me?

Apparently I am going to get many marriage proposals while living in Togo, so I'm going to have to weigh my options once I'm there.

Any other questions? Just ask.

I will be serving in the Natural Resources Management Program as an NRM Extension Agent. Yeah, I know, it does sound official. Pretty awesome considering my last job title was Professional Burrito Roller.

According to my assignment description sent to me by Peace Corps,

"As a NRM Extension Agent, your overall goal and primary responsibility will be to promote environmental awareness that leads to the implementation of sustainable integrated agriculture practices in your work zone. You and your official and/or unofficial counterpart(s) will work in collaboration with local farmers, community groups, and schools to introduce sound agroforestry, soil conservation, and NRM techniques into rural communities in Togo."

So what does all this mean? Well, I'm not totally sure, but as long as I get to wield a machete, I'm down for just about anything.

Work activities I may be involved in:

"-Identifying and training model farmers."

"-Tree planting activities and tree nursery development."

"-Training individuals and groups in sustainable agriculture practices such as alley cropping, use of indigenous species, erosion control, gardening, integrated agriculture, composting, crop rotation and inter-cropping and use of appropriate technology such as fuel-efficient mud stoves."

"-Helping implement various projects with community, women's, student, and youth groups..."

"-Helping our Togelese partners understand the realities of the HIV/AIDS epidemic as well as options for coping with this reality."

"-Designing and conducting environmental education classes in elementary, middle, or high schools in your work areas."

-And many more!

I fly to Philadelphia on Sept. 17 for three days of staging, then over to Lome (note: the "e" in Lome should have an accent mark above it, pronounced "Lo-may"), the capital of Togo (via Paris).

I do not know where I will be living in Togo but NRM volunteers are typically placed in rural villages without electricity and running water. (I have to admit, I am kind of excited about my first sure-to-be hilarious encounter with a "squat" toilet)

I will be training in a small village with the other new volunteers (probably 20-30 people) for the first three months, and living with host families during that time. During training, I will be assigned my post and will live there for the two years of my service.

Welcome! I've never done of these before, but I'm assuming it's going to be amazing.

As you may know, or not know, I have joined the Peace Corps. I will be serving in Togo, West Africa beginning September 20th, 2008. First off, I would just like to thank everyone for being so supportive of my decision. It was a difficult one. I have never been so excited to do anything in my life. But with my excitement, come nerves. Not nerves about living in a developing country without elctricity or running water, but mostly about missing all my friends and family back home.

I have no doubt there will be times I lie awake at night under the clear Togo sky and yearn to be floating down the Bitterroot River in an innertube with a frosty Cold Smoke resting on my pale belly, or lounging in my parent's backyard eating my dad's famous BBQ chicken. But hopefully, the tough times will be over-shadowed by the great experiences had and the new friends made.

Please, let's enjoy the rest of summer together. And if you're around Portland, let's grab a beer before I go. (If you pay, I might bring you back something special)

I can't promise that once I am involved in my service, I will be able to update this blog very frequently (I hope at least once a month, maybe more). So don't freak out if I haven't written in awhile, mom, I'm probably not dead.

(And, yes, the title of my blog is a reference to the late 70's early 80's new-wave-art-funk quartet, Talking Heads..... oh how David Byrne's soothing vocals will keep me happy during many a tough times in Togo)