Well, my 2 years of Peace Corps service are coming to a close. I've learned so much; mostly things that I probably would have been happier not knowing. One conversation with a friend strikes me:

me: I've learned many things in Togo. Too many things. It's been difficult. I had to learn that the world is a bad place.

him: (looks at me like I'm a stupid child) yes, of course, everyone should know that the world is bad.

This conversation, while maybe making me appear dramatically cynical and negative, I think however is telling of many things: where I am at the end of a very intense experience, how much of the world sees humanity and the human condition, and how American priviledge affects its world view and vice versa.

First of all, I came into this experience far too naive. Despite my travels, I understood the world as essentially good, having potential, as a place of abundance that, if distributed fairly, could provide for all. I came here prepared to interpret any uncomfortable circumstances or conditions merely as an unfortunate deviation from what is normative. That is, if someone does something "wrong", for example, he/she has only deviated from a moral norm, and that what is "right" is recognized as such, even if it is not followed. Now I see that would I previously understood as "wrong" ceases to be recognized as such to those for whom it is merely "survival", or maybe even social/political order. Stealing money from a clinic, for example (that has happened multiple times in my village), which already lacks funds, is not considered "wrong" here, merely contrary to the will of an other. No "moral" breach is considered in such circumstances (especially if none of those who have been cheated know about it), only that someone now has what someone else wants. In a rapacious society, ideas of morality are irrelevant. In fact, I don't think I even know the french words for "moral," "wrong," or "right" because such concepts never come up in conversation.

This is the sort of thing I am dealing with right now as I prepare to leave Togo. "Morality" is not something inate and congenital, it is a system fabricated for a purpose dictated by the group it concerns, and exists in various forms for various reasons and purposes. There are those who would say to this, yes, of course, but when faced with a situation where their own system is irrelevant will react with vexation and impetuousness.

My friend's response is also so revealing about the psychological condition of the billions in poverty. When life is merely a struggle to keep on living, the rest of the world simply becomes "bad", with the individual as the sole point of reference to what is "good". Whatever the individual does is considered justified because everything he does is done to survive. When your only objective is to survive, then all things impeding that objective must be classified as "bad", and everything aiding that objective is "good". When this objective is the objective of most individuals in a large population, everybody classifies everybody else by only 2 categories: a tool--a means to an end for the individual, or an impediment. Imagine the emotional isolation! I am only now beginning to wrap my head around it. It is rare for people to express feelings of love for others, only disdain for competitors trying to take what you are also trying to take.

Americans ought to realize that it is because of our (over)abundance of everything material that allows us to have our intimate relationships. When our primary objective is not merely to survive, we are not obliged to see all others, even our spouses and children, as competitors and enemies. We are permitted to love each other in such a way that, I believe, God intended. This state of "having enough", I think, is the fundamental condition for having a soul that is whole.

My final thought then, is this: what does it mean to live in, and even proactively perpetuate a world where so much of the population is deprived of the necessities to surpass a life of mere survival, and hence, deprived of the ability to fully love another?

************

This will be my last entry. I will be closing this blog in 2 weeks. I have already bought my plane ticket home. I will be leaving Accra, Ghana, August 24 and arriving in Chicago the 25th. My official last day with Peace Corps is the 20th, so I think I'll probably bum around in Ghana for a few days, maybe even go on a safari. When I get home, I am planning on holeing myself up in my family's lake cottage for a few weeks. I look forward to seeing you all.

Adieu.

Guy in my compound who likes to ask me questions about America: Do you know Obama?

Me: yeah; sure, he's my friend. He comes over to my house and I make corn paste for him.

Guy: Really?! And Micheal Jackson? Do you know him too?

Me: Yeah, he would come over with Obama and eat corn paste with us.

Guy: And Rambo too?!

Me: Of course! They all came over together and then Obama takes us in his car to the white house to have a beer

Guy: Wow!!!........hey, wait........are you making fun of me?

Guy in my compound's wife: Do people in America have fun too?

Me: Yes. People everywhere have fun sometimes.

wife: oh.

I truly never thought that I would write an entry like this, but being here for so long has forced me, in trying to comport myself in a culture so unlike my own, to recognize in myself what is distinctly and inexorably "American". Some of it I like, and some of it I don't, but I will here focus on what is edifying, productive, and wholesome. I should begin with the caveat that I what I shall henceforth praise about America(ns) refers to all that is best about it, which despite its remarkableness, is not quite pervasive. All that is dispicable and reprehensible about America is to some degree universal and can be found here in Togo. Similarly, all that discourages and depresses me about the people of Togo is not by any means lacking in America. However, I do feel that the very best qualities to be found in America(ns) are found here with far more difficulty, if at all.

One difference between the two cultures that is supposedly common knowledge is that African populations tend to be more community based, whereas Americans, and Westerners in general, are more individualists. That is to an extent true, but it's not the whole truth. To the extent that African cultures are community centered, is so based on necessesity and not a common ethos. The personal lives of individuals in a community are so intertwined, in part, because they don't have the resources to create physical privacy for themselves. Their houses and compounds are generally not fancy enough to avoid having everything you do seen by everyone else. Here, you nap, cook, play, fight, and eat outside, and everyone knows at all times what you are doing. And if someone knows that you are eating for example, you are basically obliged to offer them some. Here, you pretty much have to impose yourself in others' lives and be nosy. Otherwise you would have to walk everywhere with your eyes closed. This is not a reality, i don't think, that they enjoy, but rather one that they passively accept if there are no means. Togolese people, if they do have the means will, in a heartbeat, construct big great walls around their house, eat expensive food in secret so they don't have to share, and keep to themselves. This is what most Togolese people want, but they simply don't have the means.

In addition, if someone in the village gets sick and has to go to the hospital, or hasn't eaten in awhile and asks people for money, they will give it to them. Not because of some moral imperative that teaches to give to those in need, but because certainly, some day, it will be their turn to get sick or not have enough money to eat, and if they don't give today, they won't receive later when they are in need themselves. So, in this way, they demonstrative a communal culture, but, I think, as soon as the poverty is alleviated, so will be this communal tendency. Americans on the other hand, though they are (justifiably) labeled as individualists, still have a sense of community obligation and a desire to aid the plights of fellow community members, even at their own expense. For example, in America, to volunteer several hours of time on a weekend for Habitat for Humanity, if a normal and noble action. I, too, personally, am willing to alter my habits and expenses because I know that I am part of a community, and that the happiness of other individuals in my community affects my happiness and sense of well being.

This characteristic is not so in Togo. No one here would ever give their time or their personal material resources for the good of the whole unless they were going to get some immediate (preferably monetary) reward, even if they would benefit indirectly as a part of the community. Indeed, the idea of indirect profit by aiding others is not even a concept that ever enters into their heads. The previous example of giving money to someone who is sick is not at all contrary to this observation. In impoverished contexts like this one, people get seriously sick so often that those who give, will probably be quickly rewarded, that is, they will fall sick soon enough that the profit that they will receive later when they need it does not become an abstract idea of aiding others as a moral imperative.

Americans, at their very best, will, in contrast, embody this morality---that a certain amount of self-denial is noble, indeed, obligatory, for the sake of aiding others. Many Americans feel themselves as a part of a community, whether it be a neighborhood, a church, or a workplace, and sincerely enjoy seeing other members of that community in a state of well being. Here, conversely, if it is seen that one member of a community is florishing, the others will become jealous and do everything in their power to bring low that member. In this, I am not exaggerating. I personally know of examples where people are killed, or their property destroyed because others simply didn't like the success they were enjoying. Here, if you are able to buy anything new or having anything at all luxurious, you have to hide it, for fear of jealousy. Americans, when I recount these examples, mostly just shake their heads in disbelief; they can't imagine these characteristics in others, because, I think, they don't exist in any comparable degree in themselves. These consequent characteristics of goodwill in Americans (again, at their very best) is something that I really miss, and actually, find myself becoming increasingly deflated in its absence.

This is but one example of many to come. i will update with part II soon.

Here is an article that I recently submitted to be published in our intra peace corps publication 'Et la Sante' (and health). Though I am not sure yet if it will be accepted. It is essentially a reflection about my experience working with my boys club, which, truth be told, was a failure. MAP, by the way, stands for "Men As Partners" and is a peace corps program that tries to educate men about why they should be promoting gender equality.

Horse F**king: a Female PCV’s Experience with MAP Last year in my village, Lama Kolidé, I began working with the 250 girls at my CEG, 6eme through 4eme (essentially 6th through 8th grade). I had started a girls club, dividing the girls of each class in half and taking them during their free periods. This made 12 different groups of girls (about 15 girls in each group) which were rotated on a 2 week cycle, mostly talking about sexual education and gender issues. While the majority of the girls were often quiet and shy (whether because of the salaciousness of topics, distrust of the “ansai,” or the banal fear of authority and being embarrassed in front of peers is conjecture), I did find that the atmosphere contained a certain feminine camaraderie which does not allow itself to be formed in the typical mixed classroom. Girls could make explicit comments about sex (even if they did illicit giggles), they could talk disdainfully, even conspiratorially about their male peers’ behaviour, and they were often eager to ask questions, which, inadvertently or not, revealed much about their personal and/or sexual lives. The club seemed to create a legitimate space for the discussion of women’s issues. These issues as they related to their relationship to men, if not able to be criticized, were at least allowed to be examined by the girls they affected. I was pleased by this atmosphere and saw it as a step, albeit truly inchoate, towards girls’ empowerment. And so, when, as I walked into class after class to collect the girls, I was met with cries of “what about the boys?”, and “when will you work with the boys?” I began to consider in what capacity I could work with them. After some discussions with the director, I announced to the boys that I would have boys club every Wednesday afternoon, the only time when nobody has class, that any boy who wanted to come could, and that we would be talking about “l’équité genre” (gender equality). They seemed encouragingly enthusiastic, though, in retrospect, I postulate if this was because they had overheard (through spying through the cracks in the wall) discussions with the girls club which included lurid words such as “penis,” “vagina,” “baiser” (a French slang turn of phrase which roughly translates as “to fuck”), and “verser” (slang for “to ejaculate”). But being credulous as I was, I believed they were being sincere and were genuinely interested in the obviously life altering knowledge that I, the quintessence of benevolence that I am, would impart to them. At this point, I had no reason to think that the atmosphere that I had sensed with my girls club could not be replicated, in masculine form, with a group composed exclusively of men and boys. This, naively, was my attitude even though I’ve met maybe a total of 2 Togolese men out of hundreds who respect me as a thinking, capable woman with emotions, included in all the hundreds who don’t of course, are all the teachers and the director who are responsible for the academic and life education of these boys. And even though some of these boys were only a few years my junior, making me an ideal target for their poorly executed advances. And even though in my previous experience this topic had only been met with sardonic scorn by most adults, including their teachers, when introduced into conversation. I was naively sanguine about my capacities and expectations in taking on a project like this. But I enthusiastically made my plans for the boys club (of which of the basis of the curriculum would be the “Engaging Men and Boys in Gender Norm Transformation” manual given to volunteers by GEE APCD, Rose.) Despite all these hurdles, the salience of which I had unwisely diminished, I said to myself, I am still white, I am still more educated, I am still their senior, and I am still “Madame”, and if I just believe in myself, I can make a difference an change the world for women! The first day, I actually had a large audience and good participation, and at the end of it, I felt good about the experience. But attendance quickly tapered into nothing and interest wavered, because, as I said before, they were probably hoping to see wooden penises and pictures of diseased vaginas like the girls did and I’m sure they were disappointed by this lack of opportunity to yell and make lewd remarks to impress their peers. Soon, very few boys would stay for the whole session. The majority would come late, then leave and play soccer for awhile and then pop their heads in again just in case the vagina pictures had emerged, I suppose. The nature of their participation was also marked by qualitative declivity. I could have considered the group dynamics to be really interesting and sociologically revealing at the time if I hadn’t been trying to achieve something among them. It became nearly impossible to discuss anything candidly or sincerely, for being a young white woman in front of about 20 young Togolese men, they became a showcase for machismo and poorly masked chauvinism. Many comments, questions, or responses to questions were glib attempts to undermine, unnerve, or flirt with me. Though, when I put my injured pride aside, these comments seemed to actually be attempts to impress each other and not, rather, to impress me or intentionally/consciously hurt my feelings. By this ostentation, they demonstrated their machismo—their courage in hitting on, or alienating the white girl—to each other, hence individually assuring themselves of their “manliness” in front of their peers, while at the same time collectively revelling in their chauvinism by demonstrating to and assuring themselves of their dominance over me, and hence, my gender; even if, and especially that, I am white. Such inappropriate and demonstrative comments of this dynamic include, but are not limited to, asking me: if I was married and if I would leave him for a black man, who f**ks better, blacks or whites? if I would show them my vagina, and have I ever seen a woman f**k a horse? Needless to say, despite original quixotic ideas about this project, I refused to play their game and, without announcement, stopped showing up. Around the same time, they too had stopped showing up all together. But no student inquired as to why the club was not continuing or why it had stopped so suddenly. I interpreted this silence as their own tacit acknowledgement of their complicity. They knew they weren’t taking me seriously, nor ever intended to, and they knew too, that I knew it. I have to believe that reaction was caused by the specific topic of gender equality, specifically, addressed by a woman, and not that this experience would have unravelled as it did with a white woman talking about a more neutral, less controversial topic with Togolese men. I have taught math classes or talked about non sex related health topics in front of Togolese men without eliciting this antagonistic response. Clearly, a woman asserting herself about family planning or gender issues threatens them, and, even if they’re not conscious of it themselves, will look to their strength in numbers and their unanimity as men to undermine the power that woman is presuming. While my disadvantage of being a woman may have precluded me from accomplishing my goals with these boys, I did learn quite a lot of startling things from their sparing moments of honesty. If I were a man, they may have taken me more seriously, but at the same time may have obsequiously attempted to tell me what I wanted to hear, hence disguising their true opinions and obscuring helpful glimpses into the reality that PCV’s are trying to change. But in my circumstances, they tried less to do this, and, perhaps even in spite of themselves, revealed quite a lot about their attitudes concerning gender. For example, when asked if it was ok for a man to cheat on his wife if the wife didn’t know about it, half of the boys said it was ok, their explanation being that if she didn’t know, then she wouldn’t be jealous, and everything would still be fine at the house. They wouldn’t fight, and the woman would still cook for him. The other half only said is wasn’t ok because (in a mantra clearly reminiscent of their PSI education) they might catch a disease and bring it home with them. Their responses including nothing about their ethical responsibilities as husbands or about how the wife might feel. In fact, they seemed to think it strange that this might ever be a factor or motivation at all. When asked specifically about how the woman might feel, how it affects her, especially if she really loves her husband and is loyal to him, they responded, “yeah, but she doesn’t know about it.” I asked if they wouldn’t be ashamed of treating a wife who loves and trusts them in that way. I got blank looks. After multiple attempts at explaining considering the feelings of the woman and ethical self-restraint, I got more blank looks. They simply didn’t understand what I was saying, or, the reality I was describing was not familiar to them. I was struck by the self-centeredness of the ethos that was being presented to me. They seem to lack any education of empathy. It is as if they are incapable of, or unwilling to consider an other’s perspective or anything outside of their own wants and needs. As a second example, I had just explained to these boys the difference between, “sex” and “gender”, and that boys’ and girls’ roles are created by society and not nature or God. I explained that if a woman’s job is to cook, it is because other men and women have told her that this is her role and not that she was born that way. Once I was sure they understood that, I asked the question, “who decides and who profits from women’s roles in Togo?” They answered unapologetically, “We do.” They didn’t try to defend the status quo by saying the woman profits too, that the man takes care of/pays for her etc. Honestly, I was at a loss for words. I thought we were on the same page, but then it seemed suddenly we were operating on completely different premises. I said, “ok, you know you are the ones profiting from women. Is this fair?” They responded, “No. But it’s good for us.” Arguing with uneducated Togolese men for gender equality with an argument based on the value of justice, fairness, and equal rights did not serve to be productive for me. These simply do not seem to be salient elements of their ethos or prominent motives for their conduct. In Togo, as well as other parts of Africa, your conduct must be carried out on the principle of looking out for yourself, which excludes ideas and capabilities of empathy. Togolese will never respect women and treat them equally just to be nice. Men profit too much from the current system, and that self-serving profit supersedes idealistic notions of “caring” and “fairness”. I am not accusing the entire Togolese male population of being inhuman monsters, nor am I making a qualitative judgement about what I see as an objective reality, nor am asserting that this characteristic is limited to cross gender relations. I think, rather, that is in part, a pervasive survival mechanism. In a place where the assurance of survival is equivocal, like in Togo, it is difficult to think of the plight of others. I am saying however, that this reality ought to be considered when strategizing the MAP goals. If you want to defend the status of women to men, you must convince them that, in the long run, they will also profit collectively from gender equality in Togo. They must be convinced that their economy, household income, honor, sex lives, etc. will all improve eventually if gender equality is realised. These are my ideas and conclusions based on my personal experiences, not just with the boys club, but discussions with men in general. I acknowledge that a sole characteristic cannot possibly embody or describe a whole population universally, and that not all Togolese individuals or villages are the same. However, the trends that I have personally observed are remarkably pervasive. I would not recommend that a female PCV in a small rural village undertake MAP projects without a male, preferably Togolese, counterpart. A young white woman will simply not be received well by Togolese men concerning this topic. I also think that the reality of the way men view their relationship to and power over women ought to be seriously considered when trying to convince men of the importance of this topic. One ought to consider that this not only affronts their honor, but their economic and recreational advantages. My experience did not turn out to be a positive one, but I do think it was insightful, and hopefully can be of use to the ultimate MAP goals.

In case any of you were wondering what a gourd of millet beer, and the basis of our civilization looks like, this is it. Sorry I don't know how to rotate the image. Someone wanna help out with that?

Sabine had her baby! This is it, one day old. In case you're wondering, we are not at the hospital in these photos. The hospital released her less than one day after giving birth. We were all hoping for a girl. I, in particular, because I wanted Sabine to name it after me and immortalize me on the African continent. Sadly, it was a boy. Normally, I should have shaken my fist at the sky for such an imprecation. But I would not be foiled so easily. I convinced Sabine that, in my country, Kaylo is the male version of the name, Kayla. So that's what we call it now. Immortalization complete!

Oh dear it's been so so long since I've posted on here. But I was a little distracted by my 3 week long vacation to the states, which was so wonderful it was almost regrettable. For those of you who didn't hear about my Christmas, I spent Christmas and the few days prior at my friend John's house, which is near my host mom's house in the south. Christmas day he said he had a friend who distills sodabi, the Togolese moonshine, and palm wine in his field halfway up the mountains. So we took motorcycles up part of the way, and then after awhile got off and started to walk, with the guy in front wielding a machete to cut our path. After a bit of a walk we arrived in a clearing with a little palm branch leanto, and we had our Christmas fill of sodabi and corn paste. At one point, I had snuck off in the bush to do my business and when I came back to the clearing, everyone was hooping and hollaring and holding up something. It was an alligator! They had just caught it, so we threw it on the fire and smoked it and ate it right there. It was a true Christmas alligator miracle!

The day after Christmas I started my trek home.

I got back to my village a week ago Friday and found my house full of sand and spiders and mice. Kitty had some work to do too. The hot, dry season is now in full swing and though there is some dusty wind (but even the warm wind will be done in a few weeks), it's always at least 90 degrees, even at night, and no water to be found. Imagine having to ration ALL your water use to 100 liters a week. I shower twice a day with about 2 liters of water each time. I impress even myself. In addition to the heat, I got sick right after I got home with a horrible cold and haven't been able to breathe. I think it's because of being in all this dust really suddenly after being in the States.

Honestly it's been harder than I thought it would be coming back. Let me tell you, it takes about 2 minutes to get used to electricity and having a car after not having it for awhile. But it takes about 2 weeks to get used to not having it again. The sun goes down at 6 everyday, and when there's no electricity there's not much to do. This is when I find myself getting pretty lonely. I had forgotten how I'd just made myself get used to being alone. I remember that my first few months at post a year ago in August were really hard, and now I remember why. It's kind of remarkable what you can make yourself get used to.

Since getting back, aside from restarting my classes with the middle schools girls and the elementary school kids, I have recently started a "Moringa bureau", with my community health workers, the people who did the Moringa workshop. This basically means that this group of people is organizing itself to start a (SMALL) business planting and selling moringa and moringa products while at the same time teaching the village about its benefits and how to prepare it to eat it. If all works out as planned, this could really be an ideal setup because the group will be motivated to help and inform the village because in doing so, they will be able to profit and earn a little income. No project is sure in this country, but i'm really crossing my fingers for success with this one.

I hope to post some pictures next time. I have a camera in my possession now, however capricious, so I'm trying my best to get in the habit of using it.

well, it's been a pretty calm last couple of weeks; going between school, the clinic, the millet beer stand, and home again. A few days ago however, one of the women who lives in my compound invited me to a burial in her village. Her village is on top of the mountain at the feet of which my house rests. And it wasn't just any burial. This was the burial of the chief. Here in Africa, when a chief dies, people get good and riled up because the family of the chief has lots of money. And where there is a family with money and a dead person, there is a deluge of millet beer, ready to bestow its golden happiness on whoever happens to pass by. And so, I, in solidarity with my Togolese counterparts, trudged up the mountain to celebrate the passing on of a community leader into the next world.

I've been to a lot of funerals here, but this was my first burial. I can't say that it was much different except that there was a corpse among us, which was not exactly treated with the same fashion of reverence which we would practice in America. They put the chief on a big bamboo slab, and after everyone had had a few rounds of gourds of millet beer, they had a little tipsy parade with the dead chief at its head. I can't say exactly for what purpose this was done, if there was any. All I can tell you all is that there was a good deal of dancing and branch waving and yelling. All with a beautiful view of Northern Togo below us.

After the official festivities, as I was sitting in a mud hut filled with women who were in turn filling themselves with the draught, a tiny, old, old woman came up to me, her gourd of millet beer sloshing all around, and started yelling something in Kabyé that I didn't understand. We all let her yell for a little while until one of the others said to me, "she wants you to greet her in your language."

"My language," I said, "English?"

"yes"

I had had a few gourds myself, so I didn't fully comprehend why this request was being made of me by an old woman that didn't speak her own national language, let alone mine, but I said, "ok", and turned to her,

"how are you?"

She laughed and clapped her hands and stomped her feet and replied, "how are you?!!"

I laughed with her and said, "no, no, how are you?"

She kept right on cackling and clapping her hands, "yes, Mazalo (my Kabyé name), how are you?!! How are you?!!"

At this point, I got maybe a little too serious. She wanted me to greet her in my language, as if she wanted to show off that she knew a little of it. And now, I had aquiesed her, and she wasn't even doing it right. Amidst my astonished laughter, I must have frowned a bit, because when I replied yet again, "no. no. How are YOU?!!", she got a little upset and pointed her finger at me and started yelling at me, "MAZALO? HOW ARE YOU?!! HOW ARE YOU?!!"

This little yelling match went on just a little bit longer before I stopped and nearly fell to the floor laughing, along with all the other women in the mud hut, because, I thought, surely, this must be the most absurd scene in my entire life.

My girls club is going really well. This cycle we are doing an activity about the transmission of HIV--how in a group of people, especially a group of people that engage in concurrant relationships as Africans often do, it only takes one person to infect everybody, and quite quickly. So they each get a tiny glass of water and one of them has a glass of vinegar (which represents the person who is HIV positive), so that they don't know who among them is "infected". Then they all do what we in the sex ed biz call "exchange fluids". At the end I pour baking soda in the glasses and we see how many people are now HIV positive. I think they got the point, but I think they were more mystified about how the white woman got water to bubble like that. One day, all the girls gathered around my can of baking soda in childish awe and asked me with wide eyes, "what sort of powder is that?"

I replied to the best of my comical ability.

"It's sorcery powder".

You see, I am getting a little sick of "sorcery" or "voodoo" being the explanation to all of my innocent and curious questions, so I thought I would dick around with them a bit. Just to get my own rocks off.

This, apparently, was the explanation they had in their heads already anyway. So when I replied, they just nodded, backed away slowly, and eyed me with reverence and fear. When I finally saw that they were ligitimately afraid of my "sorcery" powder, I tried to explain the chemical reaction between baking soda and vinegar. At this point they nodded and relaxed a little. One girl turned to her schoolmate and said, "ohhhh. white people sorcery."

I closed my eyes and sighed.

My baby cats are here. Only two thankfully. They're very lovely. It's a good thing I like baby cats because I have to keep them locked and hidden in my kitchen and not tell anyone about them because if anyone knows, they will ask me for them so they can eat them. And if I say no, and the kittens go outside, they will steal them. I am not kidding. This is the reality of my life.

My life is becoming a bit more structured now with school. It's nice, in a way, after feeling futile for the long "summer" vacation. My typical week looks something like this: wednesday morning I go to the clinic and give a little educational talk about family planning or hygiene or malaria or whatever, and then I help weigh babies and give the mothers nutritional council if the babies are underweight. Wednesday afternoons I am at the middle school with the boys doing a new program that I just started. Any boy can come and we talk about gender equality for about 2 hours. My first one was yesterday and I thought probably no one would come (it's not obligatory like with the girls and there's no school in the afternoons and everyone lives really far away) but there were around 40 boys there and it went pretty well contrary to expectation. So hopefully they'll keep coming. I give them cookies and condoms for answering trivia questions so I hope that does the trick! Thursday morning I am at the middle school with the girls. I've been teaching them how to put condoms on with wooden penises. They really like blowing the condoms up like balloons. Friday morning I'm at the middle school doing the same thing. And Friday afternoons I'm rotate between elementary schools and talk about hygiene. This cycle we talked about why it's important to dig a hole when you poop and cover it up instead of just going anywhere you like and then leaving it. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I wrote a little song about it to teach them. I'm going to write it because it even rhymes and I'm kind of proud of it:

Je vais me faire un trou

pour faire kaka en brousse

je n'attire pas les moushes

car quand ils me touchent

je tomberai surement malade

translation:

Im going to make a hole

to poop in the bush

I don't attract flies

for when they touch me

I will surely get sick

hahaha, it's really funny in english.

the other days I spend doing my "lesson plans" or other things. I'm in the middle of planning a magic tree workshop with my community health workers, which hopefully will take place in late november. So anyway, thought I would just quick share some details of what I'm doing. Another note of interest: my cat is pregnant, which would normally be a joy, but I'm getting kind of stressed about trying to find owners who won't eat them. Or hit them daily. If not, I'm going to go broke feeding cats.

Maybe I should annontate my last post a little. I didn't mean to make it sound like I'm in a spiraling pit of dispair. It's just that I think I've been here long enough now to be confronted with realism. I came to Togo, as do a majority of volunteers I think, with an undeserved amount of optimism and idealism. I was somehow led to believe that if the underdeveloped world just had some access to some simple knowledge, a little encouragement, and leadership, they would adopt the practices and atitudes that would improve their lives and health. But the fact is, the country is underdeveloped for a reason. The elements of their reality which form and effect their detrimental practices and attitudes cannot be shed in a day.....or 2 years, and they are being encouraged by counter forces far more powerful and lasting than my own, such as their own government, imperialism, western materialism, and so on. Furthermore, their previous experiences with white people have led them to believe that white people come to Africa for 1 reason: to give money and/or build something which they see as important to African life, and then leave as soon as possible.

So my life in Togo is not all poverty and doom. There are good moments too, and good relationships. They're just getting harder and harder to discern. Or maybe easier and easier to take for granted.

Also, i just spent a nice visit with my sister who came to see me. We spent the first few days in Accra, Ghana, where I had all of my western desires satisfied...food, TV, movies, not having to sit among 4 other people in the back of a 50 year toyota corolla to go anywhere, air conditioning. Accra has it all. I find it so interesting how two bordering countries in Africa can be so inequally developed. People here in Togo are always saying how countries colonized by the french are the ones that don't develop because France had a more totalitarian rule and that France secretly controls their governments to this day whereas Anglophone countries are developed because they were colonized by countries that actually "practice democracy" (Togo was colonized by the French and Ghana by the british and they do actually have purer democratic processes). I find it difficult to believe entirely this explanation. French colonization was more ruthless than British, but this explanation gives them an unknown 'other' to blame for their current condition rather than their own complacency and desperation.

Anyway, it was fun taking my sister around the country to meet all my friends and how to eat African food (with your hands and with lots of hot pepper). Unfortunately her conversations (which i translated) with the people of my village only and repetedly consisted of the following:

villager: welcome

kelsey: thank you

villager: are you kayla's little sister or her daugher (sometimes people think I'm really old)?

kelsey: I'm her little sister

v: I want you to be my wife

k: I'm already married.

v: Is he here or in America?

k: America

v: then why can't you be my wife while you're here? your husband isn't here with you.

and it was usually at this point that i say we have to go home.

I should explain that this is sort of how everyone jokes here (they don't have very developed senses of humor). I've had men say that to me that have no intention of marrying me. that's how they talk and joke around because finding partners, marrying, and having babies is the central element of their lives, since they have little else. But a lot of the time it is a half-serious joke. Like, he knows he can ask someone to marry him, and if she doesn't want to, he can say it's a joke and they laugh and then part, but if she does want to----hooray! white wife!

Of course even though I know that, and I understand their manner, it becomes fatiguing. And if you're new and haven't spent a lot of time with them, like my sister, it's easy to get upset.

Be sure to ask her about her trip. She'll have things to tell you.

yes, yes, i know, I took too long a break from posting on here. I did so for two reasons: I get the impression that no one really reads it with much interest, and I haven't had many positive things t0 say about the past two months. First of all, it's the rainy season, which means that EVERYBODY is in busy in the fields. Teachers, nurses, directors, everybody. No matter what your profession, you also have a field, because probably, your profession doesn't pay you enough to eat AND have the things that you want without growing some of your own stuff. So that impedes upon my work since people are too busy or too tired to care about that things that I care about. speaking of fields, i myself am not excluded, I too have my garden. It may be hard to understand, but when you have so little to occupy your time, so little depending on you, so little stimulation, so little in which to put your energy and care, something small and seemingly insignificant can become a big deal and its success or failure can steer my mood for a week. So, having said that, my garden failed twice. I planted 3 times before something started to grow. I am now, after many painstaking hours and disappointments I am starting to harvest some radishes and cucumbers. While this seems a meager return, I'm starting to be happy with it (maybe more happy than I should be). The reason why this is such a positive event is because now, to everybody that comes to the house, or than I come into contact with outside of my house, I say, "come see my garden! I have cucumbers and radishes!" To which they respond, "what? I didn't know we could grow vegetables here." If I tell someone that knew from the beginning that I was gardening, they act shocked because they clearly never believed that anything would come of it and were just humoring the white person in her crazy experiments. But up until this week it was really nothing but heartache.

I am also really starting to feel the bite of being seen merely as a sexual object in a world of men (it hurts particularly when you know your smarter than those men, but they still belittle you). No matter in what capacity I work or recreate with a man, eventually he makes it known (though not in so many words) that he was only humoring me in hopes of sleeping with me or getting to America or both all at once. This hurts especially if i had thought prior that he was actually a friend I could spend time with, or if I really need his assistance to do a certain project. Men forcibly satisfy an important role in my life here because women are so hidden in society. It is rare to find an educated and motivated woman in any position of power, or any position other than staying in the hut all day and cooking the corn paste. Because of this enforced role, women typically don't engage well in discussion, they are shy, don't feel they have anything to contribute, they are used to being told what to do and so they are always waiting to be told, and thus, women, though they should be a valuable addition to my life in Togo, are difficult to be friends and work with. And so, being belittled all the time is starting to have its effects on my mentality and my behavior towards men in general, though I know its not fair. I know how to joke with men and how to deflect their advances now, but now I assume what I will encounter in men, in any context, and I become defensive immediately, as well as discouraged about the outcome and productivity of the work before the work even gets started.

Now that I am becoming more familiar with my village and its organizations and vital members, I am being confronted with the pervasive reality of corruption in Africa. In America, we practice a certain social ethic which drives us to willingly give our time and energy for a communal cause. People join committees and give Saturdays to Habitat for Humanity and donate money to NGO's and so on. In America, people commit to acts like this and then when the time comes to deliver, they do it, because most people believe in giving, though minimally, to something that can help other people, especially those in their own community. Not so here. Here, people take such positions and roles to see what they can get out of it. Here when an organization or cause is given money, the leaders of the group expect to skim a little off the top. In french we say "manger" or "buffet" which means to eat. Here, "to eat" and "to steal" mean the same thing (Which is interesting etymology, isn't it?) because eating is the sole purpose of life here. Anyway, I am becoming discouraged to know that the people I've been surrounded by and working with are typical togolese men and have been engaging in these counterproductive activities and don't really share the same principles and motivations that I have. I don't mean to sound like a fatalist myself with this post. I have to tell myself that this sort of behavior is the inevitable product of extreme poverty. They are taught from their infancy that if you dont do what you can to help yourself, you won't get anywhere. Honesty doesn't pay. At least not in Togo.

But now as the beginning of the new school year is approaching I am in a bit of a tizzy trying to plan my programs with the students. It sort of snuck up on me.

So, the week before last was my last week at the schools; they take their exams last week and this week, and then they're out until early september. So I got some of my school supplies in just in time to do some activities at the elementary schools before the end of the school year. So I made copies for them to color about the 3 food groups (yes, it's 3 here, there's not a dairy product to be found here). As soon as I opened my bag, full of crayons, colored pencils, and markers, their eyes got really big and a hush fell over the room. You should understand that in Togo, because a lack of money and supplies, they're not used to doing activities like that. Even my making the copies was an expense too extravagant for the schools. So even giving them a print out to color and take home was a novelty for them. I was a bit surprised by their conduct. I expected them to start fighting over colors, yelling, and trying to steal them. But, once I passed them out, they became very diplomatic with each other, very deliberate and careful with their work, and appreciative, and even tender with their supplies. They certainly conducted themselves more respectfully than any group of American elementary school kids. But that in of itself is no surprise. Togolese kids are much more respectful and well behaved than American kids. When I talk to teachers here and they start complaining about their students' behavior, I just pull out some stories from when I was substitute teaching. But I think that they don't quite believe me. I'm not quite sure why the behavior difference is so drastic. I certainly don't think that they have any more morality instilled in them since childhood. In fact, someone (in their opinion) pointed out to me recently that Americans, as adults, are more moral than Africans because our school curriculum is heavily influenced by a Christian-Judeo ethic (take "The Golden Rule" for example, which I remember learning both at school and church), which Americans universally inherit. But here, kids learn only from their parent's conduct, which is basically to do whatever you can to eat, be it steal, sell your sexuality, or beg; and at school learn only to regurgitate random data. However, in Togo, there is a pervasive system of hierarchy which revolves around (amongst other things) age. Younger people know to respect anyone older than them. Any kid, when addressed by an adult, will do a little curtsy and look at the ground when speaking. So maybe it is erroneous to say that Togolese children demonstrate better behavior than American children. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that Togolese relationships are different and that they encourage passivity in certain parties.

But I digress.

Oh, and let me add that if you are planning on sending me any school supplies, I no longer need crayons, colored pencils or markers. Courtesy of the Jefferson Church of the Brethren (thanks!) I got hundreds of boxes of crayons, which is plenty. And thank you all who have already sent me things. I was really surprised and encouraged that people sent so many things and so quickly. I will also be setting up a fund through a function on the Peace Corps website soon. This function basically allows people to donate money online, and then Peace Corps gets that money to the volunteer, and I believe Peace Corps pays for the money transfer fees. Anyway, I would like to do some small funded projects. As I have described before, water is a big problem. Often there is not enough, or it is dirty, and people have to drink it and they get sick. So I would like to raise money to build a well. There are already many wells in the village, but not nearly enough to serve everyone. There is an NGO nearby that requires that the village raise a certain sum, and then they pay the rest and help with construction.

Also, at our village clinic there are solar panels, which, until recently (before my arrival), allowed at least the clinic to have electricity. Now, either the thing that converts the energy or the thing that stores the energy, I'm not sure which, is broken and there's no money to fix it. Now, when a baby is born, they bring in someone's motorcycle and turn on the headlight to have light for the birth, and they constantly have to drive into town to get things that require refridgeration, like vaccines, which requires money. So those are some ideas that I would like to start getting in motion this summer.

Since school is over, I have time this summer to start my Moringa campaign. Moringa, remember, is that magic tree that has every nutrient needed by humans in it. So, I will be going around all over the village to the homes of families that are interested to plant trees, teach them how to make sauces and powder out of the leaves, and how to plant the seeds. The families, in turn, upon receiving the trees, have to sign a contract that I wrote up promising to learn all that stuff, and then they have to teach at least 2 other families and give them trees. This of course keeps the action going in a chain reaction fashion. I couldn't possibly hope to do this for every family in my village. As I've said before, my "village" is very vast, so I be biking all over the place all the time. Plenty of exercise this summer. I also will be traveling a lot. I have to help with the new group of volunteers that comes in this summer, which means translating and answering questions and stuff during their 3 month training.

Also, a note to my family: I'll be missing my new nieces and nephews this summer! and the lake! think of me when you're having all that fun and I have to bathe with buckets of hot water.

I also want to add/specify what school supplies i still need or would prefer:

little kid scissors

string

lots of markers/colored pencils/crayons

glue or glue sticks

My friend, Ortencia, took this. She really likes it. I think it's because of the pervasive absence of my smiles in reality.

I just wanted to quickly add to my list of delicious things that I've baked. I think you should all really realize what an accomplishment it is to be baking all this stuff in the middle of Africa over a fire:

apple cinnamon scones, chocolate peanutbutter scones, chocolate cake, banana bread, mango cobbler, and next I'm going to make coffee crumb cake. Hooray!

I also found a little store in town that sells cold Dr. Pepper and A&W cream soda. I don't know if you all can understand how great that is. I think that the fact that it was cold really did it for me.

Also, since the rainy season is starting, there is enough water around to start a garden. I had my village colleague build me a fence made of palm leaves to keep the goats out, and so soon I'm going to plant green peppers, potatoes, tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, carrots, lettuce, and watermelon. Watermelon apparently does really well here, which is great. I can't remember the last time I ate fruit quite honestly. It's really scarce here, especially during the dry season. And in my garden I can plant my moranga trees inbetween my rows of vegetables! Everyone that I tell about it here looks at me like I'm crazy, because all they know how to plant and all they've ever planted is corn and yams. So, my garden not only benefits me, it also demonstrates to people here that it's possible to plant other things that will supplement their diet, and help prevent malnutrition and diseases. After that first rain I plowed the garden the way they plow their fields: with a piece of metal stuck to a big stick, bending over, and digging up the earth by hand. I was sore for a week. I can't believe that do that half the year. They always make me feel like a big weiner.

Happy Easter. Here in Togo, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus for two days, not one, so my Easter holiday came to a close yesterday, Monday, with a magnificently befitting climax: the first true rain of the rainy season and an end to the swelter and suffocation of the dry hot season. There were some nights, even sleeping outside in my cot just after bathing that could not sleep for the sweat. But yesterday with the rain I think the temperature dropped to almost 60 degrees at night! A true Easter miracle! And now I can't believe how quickly the landscape is changing in it's fecundity. Before, it was all one color: brown. Now, there are flowers, and leaves are coming back, and the grass is turning green. I've said it before, but I will reiterate because i'm always impressed by its demonstrations: here in Africa, the power and beauty of nature's dynamic extremes truly render the observer minimized, and, if not completely destroyed, awed.

Last week we had what would be comparable to Spring Break. But before the vacation started, they had a week of what they called "cultural activities" at school. So the Monday of that week I went to the stadium in the nearby city where the teachers and students and other important people of all the nearby schools were gathered for the opening ceremonies. I wasn't technically invited, but I went because some of my girls were singing an accompiement (i don't know how to spell it) to a dance that the boys were doing and they wanted me to come see, so I just showed up. There were groups from many schools performing various tribal things like dances and the like. It was really nice to see some of my girls doing something like that in front of such a large crowd, but the effect of all the presentations together, in general, was very powerful for me. I had to fight back tears. I think one would have to be here for a long amount of time to really understand, but I will try to describe it anyway. Besides this event, I haven't seen any organized artistic activity since I got here. People here have neither the time, nor will, nor confidence to create anything for the sake of the pleasure of creation, let alone as a group. The entirety of their time is so taken by the drugdery of daily tasks, plowing the field (by hand), fetching water, cooking, washing clothes (also by hand) that not only is it not physically feasible to actually organize a skit or a concert for example, but because of their lack of exposure to such things, they don't even see the value in attempting such a thing. In America we are so exposed, maybe even overexposed so as to become desensitized, to organized musicals, art exhibits, concerts, that we don't think twice about the significance their availability. The ability to create for creation's sake is a real and rare priviledge that only the minority of the world possesses. In America we don't have to plow the field by hand to feed our families, so we have the time to dabble in artistic, scholarly, and personal pursuits. And because of this priviledge, we have the oppurtunity to learn to work together for such creations; to unite as communities; to observe and learn from other peoples' talents and experiences. Now that I'm here, I see the effects of these priviledges and their stark absence here. I am so often disheartened by people's inability here to work together or have an effective, progressive disscussion. It is simply not something that they learn because they are not born into a world where such oppurtunities are available. So, with this context in mind, as I was watching these performances I was overwhelmed at what a beautiful thing it is for people to come together for a common goal, working together, creating something, and then showing it off to people thereby instilling in themselves a sense of pride and confidence. Performers know the high that comes at the end of a great performances. It's the high that results from the pride of producing something and the pride of community, of being able to say, "wow, how did we do that?"

Anyway thank you all for your responses to my previous blog. I will keep you all updated on my consequent successes and failures.

Hi folks, I'm back in my village and healthy. I didn't mean to scare anybody. Since there are people around my house to help me, I don't think I could have actually died. If Peace Corps knows early enough that someone has malaria, they will be taken care of. Since Ferdinand and Sabine were there, Peace Corps knew quite quickly. Those dramatic comments of the last post were just the thoughts running through my head at the time of sickness, especially since malaria renders the person confused, and I was listening to the funeral next door of someone that had just died of malaria. Anyway, it's in the past now.

As I have written in previous blog posts, I have recently started a "Girl's Club" at the middle school where I have the oppurtunity to teach girls about sexual health, social/gender issues, and engage in activities that promote self-esteem, confidence, leadership, communication skills and teambuilding. This is going very well. The girls really seem to enjoy it (even though they are obligated to go) and they seem to be opening up more and more, and I can tell that they are finding the topics interesting and useful since it is so directly applicable to their lives, and yet normally taboo to talk about with someone of authority who would be knowledgeable enough to give them valid information. I really enjoy my time with them, and when I got back to my village, several approached me wondering where I had been and why I didn't show up for Club. Now that I have a stable routine at the middle school, I would like to begin similar work at the elementary schools. Of course, those of you who work in an education system or with children know that different age levels require different pedagogies. The methods that I impliment at the middle school would not be effective at the elementary schools for multiple reasons. In addition, I have previously written here concerning the teaching methods used by Togolese teachers which suppress creativity, self-confidence, and inquisitiveness. These are things that I would like to nurture in my work at the elementary schools in addition to discussions about sexual health, hygiene, nutrition, and social issues. Unfortunately, this often requires supplies that schools are not able to provide. I have no problem, and have already begun, using my own meager salary to supplement my work and the material needs at the schools. However, there are 4 elementary schools in my village, each with at least 6 classrooms, and some classrooms with up to 80-100 kids. I could not possibly hope to afford enough supplies to meet these needs even in their necessary moderate use. Therefore, I am asking my friends and family to help with these needs as they feel able and compelled. Materials that would be useful are:

markers

crayons

colored pencils

stencils

erasers

pencils

or any other art/creativity supplies that you might happen upon

I know that financially things are not going their greatest at home and that there needs there too. But give as you feel compelled: most kids here have never held a crayon or colored pencil in their lives or been asked to do anything in their entire educational career but repeat back what an adult just said. I am beginning to see just how powerful this lack of critical and creative thinking in Togolese schools is. It contributes tremendously to their fatalism, lack of motivation, and consequently, their health and the development and well being of their families and their country. These supplies are so common and taken for granted in the States, but here, I think they can make a real difference. Everything helps. I am quickly learning to do more with much less.

If you would like to mail me something, this is the address:

Kayla Kauffman

Peace Corps/Le Corps de la Paix

BP 3194

Lomé, Togo, West Africa/L'Afrique de l'ouest

Don't forget to write something like this on the package to prevent theft:

La punition de Dieu est juste et rapide

or

Le bon Dieu voit tout, meme toi

or

materieaux religieuse

Also, remember that it takes 3-6 weeks for packages to arrive.

Thank you in advance.

hi everybody, its time to feel sorry for me now. I arrived in lome last night because i got really sick really suddenly on friday afternoon. i was pretty sure i had malaria because i had all of the symtoms which are typical of malaria which are as follows: high fever (>102), alternating chills and feverish, hot, sweating, diarrhea/cramping, nausea or vomiting, dizzyness, confusion, yellow skin, muscle soreness everywhere, and severe headache. I tried to walk from my bedroom to my kitchen and i fell on the floor from the dizzyness and soreness. Ferdinand came home and found me outside laying on my cot shivering and half naked. If some of you feel compelled to thank God for things from time to time, you should thank God for Ferdinand and Sabine, they took diligent care of me, and I don't know what kind of shape I would be in without them. And it is really hard to not love someone who helps you to the latrine when you're half dead.

Before Ferdinand arrived, as I was shivering and confused outside, I was remembering how the chief (who lives next door to me) of the village's funeral was going on that day. He died this week of malaria. He fell sick on a Saturday and was in a coma by Monday. So, between my shivers and sweats, I was confessing my sins, rapidly remembering my best memories, and in all things preparing myself for the afterlife, whatever that may entail.

But don't worry, the story has a happy ending!

I'm not dead.

Peace Corps gives malaria medicine to everyone just in case, so with the help of my dear friends, Ferdinand and Sabine, I was able to call Peace Corps, get authorization to take it, and then actually take it. And thanks to Sabine walking me, I didn't poop my pants once!

So, as I said, I'm in Lome now for tests and so on, and I feel much much better. In fact, I've barely eaten since Thursday, but I think I'm going to go out and eat something delicious! Maybe hummus! Maybe ice cream!

After the fear of this experience, I can't imagine how it must feel to be an African, knowing that malaria is so common, and also knowing that if you get it, there probably won't be money or other means to treat it. No matter how sick I get, I always know that peace corps and the American government are behind me. But Africans know that they are all alone in a wild, dangerous world. And the way they react, and some of the things they believe (like their fatalism, their attributing everything to the "will of God" thereby rendering moot their power in any situation), however much it annoys me, makes more and more sense given their context. If they get sick, for them, it is simply the will of God and then they die and that's just how the world works. just make more babies to make up for it.

ok, I didn't get a chance to say everything that I wanted to say last time.

Anyway, except for school stuff, its a little hard to get work done this time of year because February and the beginning of March is funeral season. You may be asking yourselves, "how can funerals have a season?" Well, here, when someone dies, there usually isn't money to have a proper funeral and so they wait to celebrate until the time of year when there is some money, like now, because they've already sold all the stuff from their field and since there's no rain, and hence no one can go to the field, there's nothing else to do. And I say "celebrate" because here a funeral generally consists of killing a few chickens, drinking lots and lots of homemade millet beer, crossdressing, and dancing around in the road with tree branches and drums. It can be a pretty swell time. I know they don't have much else in the year to look forward to, but I get the impression that a lot of families blow their whole years savings on these funerals. On one hand, there are probably better ways to spend a year's savings than dancing around in honor of a dead person who doesn't care anyway, on the other hand, they believe that the dead person does see and care, and there's a lot of social and honor/shame dynamics motivating such excessiveness. But they simply have different convictions about the afterlife and necessary rituals than I do. It's all about what you value I suppose.

Speaking of excessiveness, I've become quite the little cook. I bought things to make a dutch oven (its not hard: just a huge pot and some sand and small cans at the bottom) so I can bake now over the fire. And i'm learning to make all kinds of things from scratch. One night I made burritos, so I made homemade tortillas, homemade refried beans, and homemade salsa. I've also made baked oatmeal, apple pie, quiche, pizza, breakfast casserole (that one didn't turn out so well) and next I'm going to make scones. All that stuff takes a lot of time, so it's not like I'm motivated to do it every day or anything, but it sure is nice to have more than corn paste every once in awhile.

Hi, it's been awhile because I had to go to this interservice training for a week. It was long, boring, and painful, and left me a little deflated. But after I returned to my village a little over a week ago, I started some work. I started another girls club here in this village. I work with about 200 middle school girls, but i divide them up into 12 groups and work with them one at a time during their "study halls" over the course of 2 weeks, which means during 2 weeks time, I lead the same discussion 12 times. Often times the girls are really good about it and I try to just let the conversation go where they are interested, but I get a little bored around the 7th or 8th time. So I think I may start training some of the girls who go first to lead some of the discussions for the later groups, that way they become comfortable in quasi-leadership positions, and I don't feel like clawing my eyes out. But the groups have been really interesting. Sometimes I will have a group that is not afraid to talk about things that might be embarrassing. Like for the first topic we talked about how people can be informed about the dangers of doing something (specifically, unprotected sex) but they do it anyway because of social pressures, lack of self esteem, etc. Anyway we got to talking about why boys pressure girls to have sex (remember that in Togo, its almost written hierarchical law that a girl is below a boy in value and status and pretty much has to do whatever he says) and one group of girls said that sometimes a boy will try to get a girl pregnant because she's doing really well in school-better than all the boys-and the boy won't like it and so he will want her to have to quit school. Also, they told me that sometimes a boy who is infected with HIV will go around intentionally trying to infect as many young girls as possible just out of spite. Everytime I think I've seen all the aspects of pervasive mysogyny, I'm shocked by a new one.

Also, I was already all too familiar with this, but girls mostly have sex at that age because boys will give them money. I asked what they want the money that bad for and they said, " to buy jewelery and stuff to be sexy". So I asked why do you want to be sexy? "To be able to sleep with boys and get money." So I said, well that's kind of cyclical, what do you gain from that? "Ummm".

Also, every Wednesday morning I go to the clinic because they weigh babies in order to track malnutrition, and give vaccines, so I end up doing all the baby weighing stuff and giving a little 30 min educational talk about nutrition or family planning, etc. I really like that, it gives me a chance to play with babies (even though half of them cry when they see me. I'm just a big white monster) and get to know the women of the village.

I know I talked a little bit about the Moranga tree with all its nutritional value, but there's a nother tree, Neem, whose leaves and seeds can be made into an oil to repel mosquitos, which is one solution for the malaria problem here. There's a lot of those trees here, and like, no Moranga, so I would like to do something that.

Time's UP!

Here is an article that I found about Togo that I felt like described some common things that I've become acclimated to (though that is not the article's objective). After reading it myself, I made the comment to someone, " you know, articles like these used to shock and infuriate me, but now that I've been here so long, my reaction is more like, 'well, duh' (as in, that's not really news to anybody)." Also, reading the article made me realize the vast disconnect between the way journalists portray a certain reality (its their job and not that it's not important; they're supposed to make it seem dramatic and, in part, oversimplified so that you, the reader will understand and also give a crap) and the reality itself--what its like to actually live in it. Journalists tend to gloss over the complexities of the situation in order to present a nice comprehensible package. For example, when the article talks about domestic girls being abused, you the reader don't realize that Togolese have a different definition of abuse than we. What we would call abuse is simply how they discipline their own kids and students. (Remember the public whipping I wrote about?) Not that that makes it ok, but when the women described are confronted about abuse, they're probably confused. So anyway take a look

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/12/25/AR2008122501198.html

Also, the woman who said that she was saving that money for a dowry is lying. If she's not I will eat my hat and anything else that anybody tells me to. Absolutely no Togolese person, except the very very rich, think that far ahead, especially not for someone that is not their own child. The money is just too necessary in the present.

The new language is frustrating me however. And because I spent so much time learning Ewé; the language in the south; i don't feel very motivated yet to learn Kabyé; the language in the north, where I am. I didn't realize how well I was doing with Ewé until I came here and didn't know anything. In my old village I could walk to the market and buy everything I needed and greet everyone and speak nothing but Ewé. When I got here, I couldn't even say hello. Now I can say "good morning," "welcome," "my name is," and "thank you." And my name apparently means "teeth" in Kabyé. Children, of course, think that is hilarious. But so they tell me, "ça va aller"; it will go.

It looks like I will get to start another girls club here at the middle school. Also, Sabine, my compound mate, is a teacher at the primary school, and I really like the director of the primary school, so it looks like I will get to do some work with some of the older kids there who are able to speak French, stuff like why washing hands is important, but also condom demonstrations and AIDS talks since kids even at that age are often sexually active. There is also an "Association for Women and Development" here; which is comprised of the village women, and it seems to be relatively active, and I really like the leaders of that group, so I look forward to working with them. They've already described to me some problems that they run into because men in leadership positions in the village don't like the women getting too organized or powerful without the presence of men. That sounds like my kind of cause.

Time's up again. Bye.

I hope the holidays went well for everyone. It was good here. My volunteer friend came up to my place for New Year's and stayed almost a week. I actually went to bed at about 11:30 (i usually wake up around six and go to bed around 9), but it was after midnight somewhere.

While my friend was here, we went to the grand marché (uh, I guess you would translate that as "the big market") to buy used white people clothes. At the marché there are a lot of Nigerians, who speak English, but the english they speak is a direct translation of their local languages and so the english that they use often comes out very comically. Anyway, as I was looking at some things, this Nigerian man came up to me to begin the daily ritual of marriage proposals. As I was looking at the clothes he was selling, he yelled at me ( even though I was standing right in front of him) "HEY! WHICH ARE YOU GOING TO BUY!"

"Um, I don't think those will fit me."

"THAT IS A FALLACY!"

(I start laughing hysterically)

"ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME! HEY! MEET ME OVER THERE! (pointing at some obscure distant location) I LOVE YOU! I WANT YOU IN MY PALACE!"

I have to hand it to him, he wasn't very effective, but it was hilarious, and I will probably remember him for some time. It was definately one of my better proposals. Ok, time's up. just wanted to share a funny story. more later.

A view of the village on the mountain side near my training village;

Andrew and Will, 2 other volunteer buddies, with our favorite Togolese Beer, Awooyoo.

This is me, my host mom, Edith, and my best volunteer friend, Ortencia

These aren't the best photos, and they're old, but I promise that someday, I will have better ones.

So I got to my new site a little over a week ago and I'll say this for it: it's way more gorgeous than my previous site. The city that I'm a 4k bike ride from is set in the middle of a valley surrounded by mountains so my "village" is all of the surrounding farmland to the East within the valley and up into my side of the mountains. It's a huge area of land to designate as "my site". It would be like putting someone in a farming county in the Central U.S. and saying " ok; this county is your village." The whole landscape is dotted with small mud hut family compounds with scattered fields of corn, yams, and millet in between. There are maybe 2 passable (by car) dirt roads in the whole "village" and because everything is so spread out, if I want to leave the house to do anything at all, I have to walk or bike miles and miles to reach anything? The 2nd or 3rd day here I climbed the mountain closest to my house ( it only took an hour, so they're not terribly high) as the sun was going down behind the mountains on the other side of the valley and looked down on the round thatched roofs nearly swallowed by an only mildly tamed wilderness, while in turn, mountain goats and curious naked children peered out at me from bush on the mountainside. It was like a photo or a scene from National Geographic.

During my descent, I passed several women, probably at least in their 60's, going up the mountain, back to their homes from the market. They cross the mountain every week in skirts and flipflops and with big heavy buckets of wares balanced on their heads. They made me feel like the biggest weiner.

The weather here is also really different. The north of the country is closer to the desert and the climate is more like Savannah (think The Lion King). The dry season just started, and it won't rain until May or June. By April and May, wells will be running dry, and zomen (never men, oh no, they have too much sitting around the house and drinking to do) will be walking 3k (about é miles) to find water which they will bring back on their heads, until the rains come, which they tell me here, have started coming later and later every year. Weather in Africa is such a frightening thing. Here, with no infrastructure, no mass farming techniques, no means of storage, the delicate balance of human survival is entirely dependent on the indifference of nature's dichotomous extremes. When the rains do come, there is the risk of flooding and consequent diseases (largely malaria), bridges and roads reduced to ruin, fields ruined by water they waited all dry season for and consequent hunger. Many of us forget that despite our abilities to manipulate nature, we do not control it.

My living situation is a lot better than my old one. I live in a smaller compound with a young married couple. The wife is a primary school teacher and the husband is a university student getting his masters in French and English to be a high school teacher, so he speaks English really well (but I speak french better, so we speak that. He's reading one of my Kurt Vonnegut books right now actually. I hope he's not getting scared of me!) They are actually one of the most egalitarian couples I've seen in Togo. They make dinner together, they eat together, they discuss things and he actually listens to her opinions--relatively normal in the States, but here it is a refreshing spectacle where husbands usually sit around and ignore their wives except to yell at them for not working hard enough or when he wants sex. So I really enjoy how they are with each other...except one day I saw Sabine (the wife) wearing a tshirt that said "I heart obeying my husband". My jaw dropped to the floor when I saw that, and when I asked Sabine about it she got really sheepish and ran away. Her husband said that he bought it for her as a joke. I hope that's true.

I don't have much to say about work projects yet. It takes forever to meet the village powers that be and get onthe same page as to what mutual goals might be. That's what is so frustrating about being moved when I was---I had just "figured out" what my role could be in my village and just found people that surpported me when I was whisked away and forced to do it all over again. There is talk about needing more wells, but that requires funding which makes things more complicated, so we'll see.

And now it comes to it--Christmas is upon us. I anticipated that xmas would come and go without me noticing much, since there's nothing here that feels like xlmas to remind me that its going on at home (its hard to get in an xmas mood when it's 110 degrees out). But I am finding that the opposite is true-- I am missing some of the small things profoundly. I miss the "A Christmas Story" marathon, driving in the snow with xmas songs on the radio, shaking my presents to guess what they are (yes, I still do it, imagining what it could be is always better than actually getting it), making xmas candy with Oak Ridge Boys in the cassette player, and going out to cut down the xmas tree and then bickering with mom all day as we try to drag it in the house, set it up in our crappy stand, and put lights on it without breaking anything. After all I wouldn't be so pleased with the tree every year if it wasn't to painful to put up. These things which make me nostalgic are only empty routines in of themselves. The tree and presents are wasteful and probably destructive, the candy is costly and unecessary calories, th emusic is mostly sentimental drivel. But during xmas, they become a meaningful external, physical ritual; a means for our bodies to interact with others and therefore simultaneously prepare and enable our collective minds to fulfill the purpose of all holiday traditions: to enjoy and reflect upon our memories (good and bad), family and friends, our good fortune, religious beliefs, hopes for the future, and our ability and purpose to love and help one another as a community of human beings. It is the collectiveness of these rituals that is so appealing to me; that most everybody is doing similar things and thinking similar thoughts and (hopefully) enjoying one another. Here, there's no oppurtunity for any such rituals, and no one to do them with anyway, which I am painfully remarking. Don't get me wrong, I'll enjoy being with Sabine and Ferdinand (the couple I live with) and experiencing the way Togolese celebrate xmas. Their traditions are admirable and lovely too. But that's the problem with having 2 places in your heart for 2 different worlds--you're always missing one while you're in the other.

Anyway, there will be all the homemade millet beer I can drink, served in gourds, for xmas, so I won't complain anymore. Merry Christmas, loved ones.

So, I'm getting ready to leave Lome for my new post in just a few minutes (my new post is like 8 hours from lome). On Saturday I went up to my training village to stay with my host mom until yesterday evening. I had a really nice time with her and John. They're not the best comforters because, well, frankly, my problems are not real problems compared to theirs and I think they have a hard time understanding why I would be truly upset when it's certain that I will have health care and food and anything else I might have dire need of. But, even so, they knew I wasn't happy and they did their best and I love them for it.

As for my new post, I've never been there, but I hear good things about it. That it is very calm and peaceful (and less drinking supposedly). I've already remarked and kind of marveled at how different villages can feel even if they are quite close geographically. I'm not sure why that is, but when I went back to my training village the first time I was just shocked at how different the atmosphere was. Maybe it's because different villages can be so different economically. Anyway, my village is also a short bike ride from a big city with internet and hamburgers, though the village itself doesn't have electricity. Again, I'll let you know as soon as I know what's going on. I'll welcome your calls this next week!

Again, sorry. I haven't been a responsible updater. But my life has pretty much been turned upside down in the past week and a half. I received a call from the country director (the highest authority in Togo) yesterday at three in the afternoon telling me that I had to have all my stuff packed and be ready to leave my village forever the next morning. I was livid and my village feels absolutely betrayed. Anyway, some of you are more aware than others about some of the problems in my village that led to the consequent "security issues" that forced me to leave my village. Namely sexual harassment on the part of my colleague and an uncomfortable, and potentially dangerous, living situation. Last week I brought these problems to the attention of a certain Peace Corps employee, hoping that someone would help me with these problems in my village. Instead, it was decided, without any input from me, that my village was too dangerous to stay in. I suppose if you want more details about the problems you can write or call me. So I've had a very stressful and tearful last 24 hours. There were already some people that I became friends with in my village that I feel absolutely horrible about leaving. Two are the boys that live in my compound for whom I was their only source of income (I payed them to give me local language lessons) and thus their only means of eating. The oldest is 18 and is one of the nicest and sincerest kids I've ever met. He started crying when I told him, and he was devestated. Another is the director of the school where I was teaching. We really got along and he loved to have me over to the house to chat, which was a really good outlet for me. I always really looked forward to our time spent together.

I was also really enjoying my girls club. The girls were just starting to become comfortable with the environment and beginning to open up and be comfortable sharing and being in a discussion format, which is so stifled in school and their home life. For the club I relied heavily on my experience leading groups at Camp Mack, and honestly it was kind of comforting to be in a familiar atmosphere and also to be reminded that at their core, kids are the same everywhere, despite all of the cultural differences that overwhelm me everyday.

So, I'm back at square one now. My new village is on the other side of the country, far north, with a different local language (there's like 60 languages in this country alone), new customs, new religion, new people to get to k now, everything. If you all know how much I love change and adapting, you'll know how I feel about this turn of events. It's so hard meeting new people, especially here because it takes so long to figure out who is being sincere and who just wants a white friend to take advantage of. Also, I know virtually nothing about this new village where I'm going. I am leaving Monday. I will let you all know what I can as soon as I can.

So, a new cyber cafe opened in the town where I have to get my mail and it's really cheap and fast (for Togo), so you all should be hearing from me more often. Congratulations!

Not that there's a lot of new things to report I guess. I'm in the process of starting a girls club at the middle school (which would involve playing games, self esteem activities, and discussions and presentations on womens safety and health issues), so when I went to the director's office (I really like him) to talk our ideas, he was like, also, we're short a teacher, would you like to teach math? To which I responded, "uh.........maybe." Which he apparently interpreted as a yes since he proceded to march me around to all the classrooms to introduce the students to their "new American math teacher". Um.

It will only be about 2 hours a week, and I really like math, but that's not the part that intimidates me. African schools are so different than American schools. African students are used to being made fun of and hit by their teachers, and so, never speak up, are afraid to ask questions, and show no creativity whatsoever. Whenever I walk into a room they all have to stand up and say in unison, "Bonjour, Madame". Which might be cute except they do it because they know they'll get smacked if they don't. In fact, just this week I witnessed a public whipping of 2 students at the school. They used really big sticks and hit them each like 10 times, while all the other students watched and laughed and then the teachers made fun of me because I got really upset at the whole spectacle. The teachers keep telling me that once I see how the students are, I'll start hitting them too, which of course I will not. Ever. So it is these sorts of challenges that such a learning environment will pose that intimidate me. That and the fact that I can't speak French like the other teachers.

well, not much else. hopefully I'll have some pictures to post next time.

Suprise! 2 in one week!

I must say, I am relieved. I traveled to my training site and found a place to watch CNN international and stayed up all night with John and Edith (my host mom) to follow the election. What's interesting is that everyone here feels just as invested in the election as I do. Every single Togolese person I've talked to was up all night following the election by whatever means possible. And everyone is so excited, it's been the first thing they say to me when they see me. It's not just that their black, and he's black, and they're rooting for their own people. This is really an inspirational event for Africans for deeper reasons. I was talking to the director of the C.E.G. (middle school) here about it and he was explaining that Africans sincerely believe that they are inferior to Westerners because they are black and Westerners are white. They sincerely believe that they suffer and that their countries are not developed because black people simply don't have the intelligence or cleverness to do anything as well as white people. Which explains why they simply wait for white people to come do everything for their country or hand over money, and why they always ask me for money and believe anything I say about anything. I'm white, so I must be smarter and know more than them. I was talking to a Togolese man who started a Moranga field (the tree I talked about before) and wants to do the same thing I want to do; educate people about it so they will eat it and be healthier, and he told me how much harder it would be for him than me, because people won't believe him because he's black, but they'll believe me because I'm white. When people talk about differences, they divide according to white and black, not American and African, or European and African. I always hear things like, "White people can invent and produce anything, but black people aren't smart enough," or, "white people can work harder than blacks." When my friend John saw my swiss army knife, he just shook his head and said, "oh....white people." They believe that their inferiority is inherent in the color of skin that they were born in, so why even try to establish equality? But, as the director was explaining to me, to see that a black person (especially one whose father is Kenyan) can become the president of the United States, the place where anything is possible, is challenging this belief for some people. It's been so frustrating encountering people's mentality and opinion about their own worth and abilities, and I believe that if that doesn't change first, there is little else that can change in the long run. People who are not inspired and challenged to create change and improve their own lives will not succeed. People ultimately care only for themselves and help cannot come from the outside.

For those of you who might send packages, things you can never send too much of:

coffee

tea

canned tuna/chicken/beef

cereal

Things I will never need:

tampons

deoderant

peanut butter

My new favorite thing here is fresh coconuts. I have a friend whose house I go to often to eat and I always ask for coconuts, so then she makes her 10 yr old kid climb the tree and cut them down and I drink the milk straight from the nut. It's so good! I told her you can't get them like that in the U.S., and when you find them they're not fresh and they're expensive. She asked how much they were and when I told her 3-5 dollars for one (she probably supports her family for a week on that) she said, "I'm moving to the U.S. to sell coconuts!!

I know-it's been over a month since I've really updated; sorry, sorry, sorry. I just really hate traveling to Lome so much, even though its only an hour away, and the internet in Vogan, which is 12k and an easy motorcycle ride away, is way too expensive. Speaking of motorcycles, I am force3d to use them because no cars go through my village. I had never ridden on one before arriving, and getting over my fear of them has been a sink or swim endeavor. Togo is not the best place to be initiated. There's like, 3 paved roads in Togo, so motorcycles have to travel through sand, mud, and water, the bikes are often in disrepair because they don't have the money to fix them, and they're not the most careful drivers because they want to arrive quickly so they can transport as many people as possible. And during my rides while I'm threatening my driver to slow down, or I'll get off and find another one, I am thinking: "Does no one realize that the only thing between us and instant death is the precarious balance of these two poorly constructed parallel wheels?" And then I get over it because I have to or I'd never be able to leave my village.

I've become a little busier these days, which is a good thing. During our training we learned a lot about a tree called Moranga that grows in warm climates, the leaves of which contain a plethora of vitamins, iron, potassium, calcium, and protein. When given significant doses of these leaves a severly malnourished person can almost literally be brought back to life. When I learned about this tree, my jaw dropped. There is no other like it in the world. I thought, why isn't everyone in this country eating this tree? The effects are potentially pervasive. For example, there are 2 boys who live in my compound who are now in C.E.G. (what we might call middle school). The oldwest one told me he was 18 years old to which I responded, "no you're not!" He looks 14 or 15 yrs old because he and his brother (who are basically financially on their own) can only afford to eat one meal a day of the corn paste that everyone eats. A young body can't develop on one meal of corn per day. (And think of pregnant women). Their story is common everywhere in Togo including my village. So I've been holding meetings with various groups of people explaining the advantages of this tree and how to prepare it to eat. The trees are already here, all they have to do is eat them. So, I hope as time passes the demand for it will rise and I can start Moranga planting projects.

Also, there is another volunteer, who arrived a year ago and has been experimenting with solar ovens. Considering the gas crisis here, and the environmental hazards of everyone cutting down trees for firewood to cook, I decided that was a worthy potential project. So, I went to lome to buy one of those refelectors that people used to put in the hoods of their cars, which is used in the solar oven to reflect the heat of the sun to the food. I already had all the other things at the house. So I explained my contraption to everyone living in my compound and I was met with skeptical stares. So for my solar cooking debut, I made everyone watch as I set it up and attempted to coook some rice. Everyone stood around me in a circle staring at me and the oven like I was a magician while I put it together, and then they sat and stayed for the 1.5 hours that I left it to cook--just staring at it (though, I did too, because I had never done it before and wasn't sure if it would work, even after telling everyone it would). When I pulled out the rice (which was actually overcooked, but not burned) and everyone had eaten some, they all immediately said: "What else can you make in it and how can I get one?" I felt quite the victor. So now, you can all send me cake and brownie mixes and I can make them in my solar oven.

Those are examples of the sorts of things I am able to do in the "health sector" without any money or training or experience that can help people be healthier. (The solar oven helps because it helps them save money which they can use to eat better, and it reduces their exposure to the smoke of the wood while cooking, along with all the environmental implications).

Of course, there are other frustrating setbacks to counter these gains, like for instance, my primary colleague in the village, who has high standing and is the president of the village development council--a group I need to work a lot with--doesn't show up for anything, or shows up and then flakes out, has 4 wives, is a raging alcoholic, is wanted by the police for embezzeling, and just got his 15 year old girlfriend pregnant. But because of the culture, I can't confront him about any of this or tell him I don't want to work with him anymore. I'm beginning to really appreciate America's frank and to the point manner of speaking to each other. People here don't confront anybody about anything, whether it is a minor annoyance, or a grave legal matter, though everyone knows everything that everyone does because what they lack in direct and useful confrontation, they make up for in gossip. I asked my friend, John, why this is and his explanation was that everybody is afraid of everybody. Everybody is afraid that if they expose or confront someone, that the confronted or exposed person willl do them harm in some way. And since this is pretty musch a lawless, every-man-for-himself country and since everyone believes in voodoo and sorcery, the possibilities for being harmed by others if you piss them off are endless. So it is expected that everyone maintains a cordial but relatively shallow relationship with everyone in the village. This runs contrary to my intuition, as I prefer to have a few very deep relationships and to skip all the shallow ones. That's probably my greatest personal obstacle here--our different views of the purposes of interpersonal relationships. There is a common slogan here that I often hear and see on bumper stickers and signs:

"J'ai peur de mes amis, meme-toi!" which translates: "I'm afraid of all my friends, even you!" I asked someone about this phrase and she said, "it is the people closest to you, who know the most about you, who can hurt you the most." After being here for 5 months, this mentality is becoming very obvious in m any aspects. Because people have to worry constantly about survival, people and relationships become merely a means for that survival. In America, when we make a friend, it is for emotional purposes. Here, it is often, at least secondarily, for financial purposes. This makes people more willing to hurt their "friends". This just further supports the idea that the quantity of food and money is directly proportional to the quality of security in any country or place. Both the roots and the fortitute of this mentality often really depress and weary me. It is distressing to think that people can't be trusted or that their trustworthiness mostly depends on something like the availability of food. But then, I come from a country where there is plenty of food and money and hence have had, until now, the priviledge of being able to believe in romantic notions of humanity's purity of nature. Or at least it's basic goodness.

Ok, well, once again, I'm pressed for time. I hope you all are well. drop me a note.

So, apparently in order to keep stuff in the mail from getting stolen, volunteers have been having their package senders write on the list of contents: "religious materials" and then writting little foreboding messages about judgement from God if they steal all over the package. So, if you're going to send a package in the list of contents, or just wherever on the package write: "matériels religieux", and then write wherever on the package, "Le bon Dieu voit tout, meme toi!" Or perhaps, "La punition de Dieu est rapide et juste." Which mean, "The good God sees all, even you," and "God's punishment is swift and just." Hahahaha, and it really works. The whole thing makes me laugh every time I think about it.

So, I think I'm eating better, especially with the power of my new kerosene burner, and food is becoming one of my minor worries. I guess you could take that as a positive or a negative turn of events. I'm eating more than one time a day now, but the other frustrations are piling up. Allow me to vent:

My house, while very nice and big, is very isolated and set apart from the rest of the village with no one around to talk to or anyone around to hear is something happened. There are some people who live in my compound during the school year, which starts soon, but they are all men (teachers and high school students) and that doesn't make me feel that much more comfortable considering the quality of men here. The isolation is also a problem because anyone can show up in the village from anywhere and ask where I live and find me in 5 minutes, which happens-I've already been harassed here. The Peace Corps security guy came to check up on me recently and he agrees my house might not be the best and so I might get to start looking for a new place to live.

Also, I'm having a really hard time finding peple in my village that I can trust and don't just want money or to go to the U.S. and who are actually interested in talking to me and being my friend. What I'm having a harder time with is accepting the reality that a lot of people, maybe even a majority, who talk to me don't have good intentions. I like trusting people. Even more, I don't like mistrusting people who don't deserve it just because I'm afraid of being suckered. It hurts particularly because I came here to be a part of, what I idealistically imagined would be a loving and welcoming, community, and hopefully help it a little bit. I think I will probably find people that care about me, but it's not quite what I imagined. I suppose it was a bit of an unrealistic fantasy, and we shouldn't be surprised when those are shattered.

On a postive note, my host mom came to visit me last weekend and it was really great. She helped me cook, so I ate really well, and she's really easy to talk to, so we spent hours on the couch chatting (not that there's much else to do) and I really needed the release. And I have to believe that if I found her, there have to be more like here somewhere.

Being here also makes me realize how "American" I really am, and that I really am a product of my surroundings. I am so tired of everybody I see asking me "where are you going," "where are you coming from," "what are you doing," "what are you going to eat," etc., asking every detail of my life, not to be rude, that's just how they are with each other to show respect and that they're interested in you life. But it drives me NUTS! It's all I can do to not yell at them, "it's none of your business!" I very much value my privacy and personal life/space. But that concept does not really exist here. I also have difficulties with this constant stream of questions because I try always to be very frank and sincere, but these questions don't really warrant that kind of response. I have a terrible time trying to respond, but not really offer too much information about my life that they're not entitled to. Togolese people are masters of crafting their speech in order to answer a question, but not really give any real information. They would be amazing politicians and lawyers if they could only afford an education.

So, I hope I didn't worry anybody too much. I don't think I'm in any real danger, and there are more people in the village that want to protect me against the few that might want to harm me. However overinquisitive the communities are here, they try to look out for each other.

So my life so far has pretty much consisted of getting settled in and trying to survive. Now that I have been in my village for almost 3 weeks, i realize that our training in the other village and living with host families is nothing but a VACATION compared to this. There was: a host mom to cook for us, take care of us when we're sick, high character Togolese trainers telling us everyday how great we are and that we're making a difference, nobody asking constantly for food and money, everybody speaks French. It was a real paradise. My host mom is supposed to come visit some time next week and I intend to tell her how magnificent she is.

Let me try to explain how the course of my day goes here. Most of my day is devoted to figuring out how to get food, if I'm going to get it at all. Because there is a gas crisis in this country and it is not available except on the blackmarket, everyone is obligated to use charcoal, or just cut down trees (very detrimental) to cook. I myself am priviledged enough to have charcoal. If I decide that I want to make rice and beans for lunch, I have to first walk to the market (which only happens 2 days a week so I have to plan this well in advance) where hardly anybody speaks French, haggle in Ewe, the local language, to buy the rice and beans, return home, sort through every single grain of rice and every bean to take out the little pebbles and bugs that are mixed in there, (this takes about an hour or an hour and a half), start the charcoal and sit there and fan it which takes about a half hour, and procede to cook which takes a long time because the heat of the fire is erratic. When all is said and done, after washing dishes and dragging my stove and everything back inside, it's been about 3 hours and I am exhausted. So, suffice to say, I often go hungry. Often I will end up eating at someone else's house because it's just a custom here to offer food to the stranger (especially if that stranger looks like they can give you something in return someday) but the meal that I'm offered everytime is "pate" which is just mushed up corn paste with a little bit of sauce which is no more than oil, fish, and spicey pepper. It is gross and I can't eat too much. I bought a kerosene burner the other day and I think it is going to drastically improve my standard of living. I made dinner the other day and it only took me a half an hour and I almost cried for joy, and I did it all inside the house!

If you are sending me a package, please send food. I am so very, very, hungry.

Also, the "work" is a bit demoralizing. Nobody in the village really seems to understand what I'm supposed to be doing, including my 2 Peace Corps appointed "colleagues". Whenever the topic of my work comes up with someone at the village, the conversation goes a little something like this:

Villager: So you are working in health. Will you be working at the health center like a nurse?

Me: No, not really. I'm not really qualified to give shots or anything

V: oh, well will you be able to stock it with vaccinations, mosquito nets, and medicines? theres never enough there

M: no, I don't really have money or access to money

V: can't you call your family and get the money?

M: (hahaha) No.

V: what about AIDS, will you be able to get us ARV's?

M: um, no, but I can talk about prevention and encourage you to buy condoms

V: we dont have money for condoms and what about the people that are already sick?

M: um....

V: what exactly CAN you do for us?

M: um...

and then I commence to feel like crap. Don't get me wrong. I understand the value of preventative education and behavior change. But it all seems like a drop in a bucket here.

ok, I'm paying a fortune for this internet session. until next time...

Ok, 2 posts in 3 days. What a record. Another thing that I’m starting notice here is the way that people process and communicate information differently here. These differences manifest themselves in every aspect of life it seems, from the way people greet each other, to learning styles, to music and story telling. I’ve noticed that when people recount stories or events, or are trying to argue a point, they are painfully thorough and insist on sharing every last minute detail, however seemingly irrelevant to the final point. When comparing our different styles of speech, I notice that the way we (Americans) study, learn, and communicate is so end oriented. That is to say, we often have one point or purpose that we want to get across to someone or fulfill, and we want to do it in the most direct and succinct way possible. That’s the way we learn to write papers in college, for example. We are to form one basic idea, and convey it in as few and as poignant words as possible without any extra distractions or deviations from the one idea. Being here and having Togolese trainers has helped me to really understand what it must be like for international students who grew up in educational systems that value completely different information and means of communication. I was discussing the gender of God (how we got on this topic and how it ended is another story) with John, a guy I consider a part of my “host family”, and as he spoke he kept going off on other side tangents in order to make his point in the most roundabout way possible. I probably said 5 times, “wait, but that doesn’t answer my question. What does that have to do with what I said?” to which he responded every time, “wait, wait, I’m getting there.” And after about 45 minutes he did. He clearly valued being very thorough more than he valued delivering a succinct and convincing argument. I’m a very curt person anyway, even for an American, and I think sometimes they were a little unnerved at how I summarized information when they asked me questions, like they thought I was trying to evade being honest because I didn’t see the need to tell them every detail; about why I was 30 minutes late coming home from school for example. So why do I feel like this is a relevant topic to impart to you? I find it a very interesting dynamic of Togolese culture because I am working in the field of development and this way of communication is directly related to a peoples’ ability to develop, at least in the way that the Western world deems productive. There is the obvious element of time. If people are recounting every detail and having two hour conversations where we might have a 30 minute conversation, things will get done a lot slower. Thinking about the school systems here; they will be able to cover less material, that maybe the western world deems important, but will have things memorized and comprehended in a more thorough way. There is also the element of value placement. When Americans recount an event or need to relay information and they only want to get the main point across for the purpose of efficiency or entertainment, they are making a decision about what aspects of an event, for example, are more important than others. They are choosing which aspects ought to be emphasized and which can be ignored or diminished as a means to an end. They are in essence, rewriting, or retelling history for their own purposes. The Togolese tendency to do the opposite strikes me as both a hindrance to efficiency and ingenuity, which I would say are direly needed, as well as valuable in its unassuming and unobtrusive nature. It is indicative of their willingness to listen to all aspects and sides of an argument or situation, instead of waiting for the point to be summarized for them in such a way that often simplifies and reduces reality to fit a “good or bad/black or white” paradigm. The “Western” method of development often uses this paradigm, and granted, is “efficient” and “productive” because of it. However, I feel that we often miss, or ignore, the complexities and nuances of life and its inherent problems because of our need to understand our world in comfortable and reductionist terms. I will admit that when listening to a Togolese story I almost always find myself thinking, “oh, please, please, get to the point.” But I’m trying to appreciate their characteristics for what they are. For those of you who might be interested in any history of Togo, the country was originally colonized by Germany and not France. When Germany lost WW1, Britain and France split what was once “Togoland”, which included parts of Ghana and Benin, and Britain got what is now Ghana, and France got what is now Togo and Benin, hence Togo becoming a French speaking country. What is interesting is that even though the German government totally took advantage of the people by pitting the different tribes against each other in order to remain powerful, Togolese people are to this day nostalgic for the ‘good old German days’, they even still study the German language in schools, support German soccer teams, and talk about Parisians like they’re the scum of the earth, primarily because even today you can see the fruits of the work that the Germans did for Togolese infrastructure. Churches, government buildings, roads were built by Germans and remain the nicest structures standing today and remain a constant painful reminder for Togo of the days when they were “progressing” and not trapped in a downward spiral of economic depression. On a positive note, at least there’s a lot of good German beer here. I just want to say that a lot of you have been sending me really nice and wonderful messages, and I appreciate them so much, so thank you! I must say though, I know that it is easier to remember to do things like that because I just left and me being on the other side of the world for 2 years is still a novel idea. So my greatest fear is that when this novel idea ceases to be so novel or exciting, the messages will stop. I’m excited about going to my post on Monday; my work will finally be starting, but the hard part is about to begin. I’m worried that I will be awful lonely. I will have to travel to see any other volunteer, and I don’t really know anyone in the village, and I won’t be living with anyone, like a host family, so I won’t have automatically have someone to take care of me and share with and it will be harder to meet people. I know it will all turn out fine eventually, as they say here, “ca va aller”, but I’m sure it will be tough at first, so please don’t forget about me!

...I signed the official foreign government worker oath today, so I officially work for "the man". We arrived in Lome today, last night was our last night with our host families and it was so sad! I cried this morning, and they promised me they would visit me so much that I would get tired of them, which is definately not possible. I will miss them and the village so much! I had a really nice last night: one of the other American trainees came over with her host mom and host uncle, who are really great, and since my host mom is a whiz in her little tin roof kitchen with her charcoal stove, we made chocolate custard and it was awesome. So imagine about 8 of us sitting in a little cement walled living room on tiny wooden stools eating custard in the middle of Africa. My life is so surreal sometimes.

There's so much to say and describe but I don't know where to start. One major thing that's been happening in the country is there has been the worst flooding in centuries (do people still not believe in climate change?) and so aside from fields and crops being spoiled, which is exasperating the rising food price problem, there are 12 major bridges which have collapsed. This is a really big deal because There is only one major road running through the country that big trucks can use to transport goods (including much needed food) and they probably won't be fixed for another 6 months. The roads here are such a mess and so dangerous. Togo is not a very big country, but it takes hours to travel anywhere because you can't really go faster than 40 mph, for any amount of time, and often you have to come to a complete stop because only one car can pass at a time. Taking public transportation is also a nightmare because the only way to get anywhere (unless you own your own car) is to take a "bush taxi" or a motor cycle. I had to take a bush taxi the other day for an hour long trip and we were in this tiny Toyota car with holes in it (every bush taxi is like this) and there were six people in the back (myself included) and four people in the front. And I'm scared to death to take motorcycles, but I think I'm going to have to get used to it because cars only come through my post village on market day, which is Friday.

Ok, I think I'll update tomorrow or the day after with more. I'm getting computer screen fatigue. I'll be in Lome until Monday so I'll have plenty of opportunity to use the internet. And I'll get my phone this weekend, so can I expect some calls? eh?

if you want to send a package, for the whole two years send it to the address i've already provided. That is the address for the Peace Corps office and they get it to me from there. Also, I don't have my phone yet. When I have it I will let you know my number. Until then, sign up at pennytalk.com and be ready at anytime!

Hi everyone, happy 4th of July. Since it is an American holiday we dont have class so we took a field trip to the nearest city to use the internet and stuff. I finally have a reason to be patriotic. It is so hard to write these posts because everything is so new and there is so much going on, i couldn't possibly describe it all. One night last week my host mom was busy baking so she couldnt entertain me, so a woman that stopped by, that I had never met before, took me to church. Even if you know the language ok it is hard to know what is going on all the time so you just have to go with the flow. So I found myself being led by the hand by this stranger in pitch blackness (the electricity was cut again) through the bush to this tiny church in the middle of nowhere that was lit by one flashlight at the front. I sat there for an hour in this dark foreign place listening to a sermon and people chanting songs in a local language that I didn't understand, sticking out like a sore thumb with my white skin glowing in the dim light while i could only see the eyes and teeth of everyone else. At the end of the service we sang my favorite hymn When Peace Like A River, I in English and they in French. It was so surreal singing this hymn in this context; incurring all sorts of memories and emotions from my past life, which in many ways feels like another world, and merging them with this new world........the Heart of Darkness converged with what I have always been taught is true civilazation. It brings to my mind questions of the actual unity of humanity, but also less obviously, it reminds me and overwhelms me how beautiful and poetic any chance that anybody has is to share their lives with one another and enjoy each other. That is why I have always loved hymns in the first place, but it was especially profound in this instance, sharing this song and belief that the song represents, with people that I share so little else with.

Also, I found out my post for the next two years last week. I will be in a smal village with no electricity and no running water, but it is on the coast and not very far from Lome, the capital, or other volunteers. I will have my own little house, but I will share a walled in compound with a family. The village is also on the edge of Lake Togo, the only Lake in the country, which I'm really looking forward to. I know it wont be the same, but I really miss the lake at home. Also i'm pretty sure i'll have good cell phone coverage, pretty crazy huh? for a village that doesn't have electricity or running water? so you can call me whenever, nudge, nudge. I will be working with a small "dispensaire" a tiny clinic with just two people working in it and doing community meetings and babyweighings and stuff to encourage people to use their resources better to be healthier. I dont know how much I've described the PC method, but we are not supposed to advertise ourselves as a financial aid source. Instead we are supposed to educate people how to supplement their diet (which is mostly carbs, corn, rice, millet) with nutrient rich foods that aren't too expensive, like soy and beans and carrots and how to treat their water and so forth, so that they can learn to use the resources they already have and take charge of their own lives to be healthier, and hence hopefully spend less money on treating illness and missing work less and being slightly less poor. I realize that in my position and practically speaking, that is probably the most productive and effective method, but something in me really revolts at the idea of telling people who cant buy enough food for their families because of food prices that have risen due to western policies that serve westerners, to spread their dollar a day even further just so their child won't starve to death. I never had quixotic ideations about helping the world through a U.S. government organization, but I am definately feeling more hypocritical than I expected to. I certainly feel that Western policies are intentionally hurting Africa more than any combonation of Peace Corps volunteers could help it. So I just have to look at it as my being here happens to be a point where mine and the governments opposing desires happen to converge, and practically speaking, people here are in fact able to make minor changes to help their lives in big ways, even if policy changes would help their lives in bigger ways. Also, I know you have probably all heard about rising food prices around the world, and that it is difficult to truly be empathetic with parts of the world that you know nothing about, but I really must pass on to you, that it really is a crisis, and it is hurting people so much. The prices of staple foods here have doubled and even tripled in some cases, which makes it very hard for me to do my work and tell people to buy additional healthy things, and buy mosquito nets, and go to the clinic, and so forth. So for those of you who feel compelled, please consider the impact of your habits on the rest of the world. Consider how much gas you use, and where your food comes from, how you are impacting the environment, etc. I'm sure many of you have heard of food riots in some of the poorest countries, and Togo is not beyond such an occurance, so you have not only the lives of Togolese to consider, but my own personal safety as well.

Also, just to make you all feel a little more guilty, I have not recieved any packages or mail yet, and lots of others have. It makes me feel very sad. Please make me feel happy. That is all.

Keep on keeping me posted!

This post, nor any other post on this page represents any official Peace Corps. policy, opinion, or position.

hi everyone

this is my first oppurtunity to update. The electricity here is not very reliable. I have been in this village for more than a week now for training and it is maybe the most beautiful place you can imagine. We are at the foot of a mountain which is very lush and green and we are high enough to see the sunset behind mountains in the distance. When i take my bucket showers in an outdoor shower area which is no more than four concrete walls I can gaze up at the mountain and watch the rain and mist come rolling down it ; and if I were tall enough, I could stick my hand over the wall and touch the people hustling and bustling on the one paved road that my house is on. It is very green here and the roads are muddy red clay. It rains a lot so it is not too hot and I actually need a blanket at night.

I love my host family. I live with a single woman who runs her own little bakery out of her house ; but there are always people around, some whom I have grown close to already. She is, for a Togolese woman very liberated and independent and a very good match for me. I cant study at night because there is usually not enough light so in the evening we sit around the table, usually 3 or 4 of us and just chat (in french ! so exciting !) I love it.

I met a guy that owns a little gift shop and plays the jembe so I go over to his place and learn to play the jembe and play guitar and we sing bob marley songs. I go maybe once or twice a week. He’s really funny.

I had a great birthday. My host mom made a lunch of popcorn, guacamole (because I asked for it) and coconut cake. Then in the evening the other Americans and I went out to the village bar and had a beer.

Our training classes are ok. We are at school from 7 :30 until 5 :30 so it gets kind of long. I am not finding my french classes particularly helpful because I am not fluent like maybe 2 or 3 people are who dont have to take the class, but Im more advanced than the rest who barely know any, so that is frustrating. But we also have our other health classes and various things about how we should conduct ourselves while we are here. The staff here are really great. They are almost all Togolese and very patient, helpful, and often poignant. For example, when trying to explain the differences between our two cultures and how we view the passing of time and how they do things slower in Togo, one trainer, who’s english is not perfect, said this : We dont like to make a challenge with time. It struck me as very wise.

Another guy who is always at my house, when trying to speak english said this : helping people is my favorite sport. We laughed and laughed.

Anyway, I suppose there’s not much else. I’m really too busy to write or read or be sad, not that i think i would be sad if i had time. im really enjoying myself.

To my family about the packages : maybe once a month is fine. I just cant afford to be recieving lots and lots of tiny packages. So if you are going to send one, make it count. Also as far emailing, it is hard enough to be able to read all that I get with the slow internet and all, let alone respond to everyone unless it is really imortant or personal, so please know that i am recieving and appreciating all of them and please keep writing. Also if it is not personal, please leave comments on the blog because I can read them all at once. It will be a lot easier for me. Also if you are going to send a package make sure there is beef jerky in it.

Thanks and stay tuned !

Hi, we arrived Saturday night, tired but safe and sound.  We are currently in the capital, Lome, but we are leaving wednesday for a nearby smaller town to continue our 3 month training.  I suppose I don't have very many unique observations right now.  The city is very similar to Dakar, but we havent really been out and about much because we've been sitting in sessions, getting shots, and asking questions.  Our Togolese teachers are around and we've been doing French testing.  Some of you know that I studied really, really hard for the past few months and it has paid off.  I am having good French conversations quite easily.  I am enjoying the small amount of integrating that we've been able to do, but it should get more exciting when we move in with our host families Wednesday.After 3 months I will have a cell phone which you can call for 31 cents a minute using pennytalk.com which you can look up.  It will be free for me.  I'll let you know my number later.  Not much else to report right now.  I am safe, and mostly content.

I'm kidding. There's no calm. But hopefully there's no storm.

Some of you I have perhaps not talked to in some time, but you are still in my address book, so maybe you'll be interested in all this anyway.

Some of you know and some of you don't, that I am leaving tomorrow with the Peace Corps. for Togo for 2 years. I will be working, probably in a small village by myself, in the Health and HIV education sector. It is a big committment, but I have heard very good things about the program, and have felt passionate about Third World development, particularly in Africa, for some time, so I am of course nervous, but am also very excited. Despite the many things that a place like Togo can't offer, such as modern conveniences and entertainment, it also has (based on prior experience on the continent) a lot of things to offer that are not available here. It is teeming with life and spirit that are not so overt here underneath the American juggernaut lifestyle.

Unfortunately I don't have a digital camera, so I don't see a way right now to visually update you on my life; I'll just have to fully utilize my writing skills. Those of you that can find the time, please send emails, letters, links of interest, whatever. It will be an immense comfort for me as I face a new lifestyle and purpose over the next two years.

Here is my address in Togo, but only for the first 3 months of training:

Kayla Kauffman, PCT

Peace Corps.

B.P.3194

Lome, Togo, West Africa.

Stay tuned!