the internet exists?

   9/22/14
 Induonpoah? just arrived back from my trip to the boutique on the other side of the road where i sometimes go to shoot the shit with villagers who are just as busy shooting the shit as me. we sit around and they drink beer, gin and pastis and buy me candy and cookies and try to get me to speak Konkomba and French. it’s a ball. i just learned there is a different word for eating each type of food that is prepared here- that god that totals about five meals- but it’s almost like italy how their language revolves around food (although there is no word for bon appetite, and they don’t understand when i say that in french!) you would think they would have used this time to make the meals palatable…not so, bob. they are shocked every time i mention that piles of flavorless corn meal are not regularly consumed at my home, neither large mounds of boiled yams. i think if i even mentioned the whole supersize concept they would think it was a joke. village life is hard sometimes in that i have very little control over what is going on, ever. buy i am working to get past it, say goodbye to veggies and privacy and let people touch me and stare. yesterday i visited two little hamlets of namab with my homolouge and met the chiefs there- was very interesting to see how they lived (the same) and how their crops were doing (worse). the soil here is sandy and pebbly and the corn is flimsy, small and colorless. they blame it on the gods (they must be crazy) and the rain, and seem content to dish out money each year for pesticides. i have a long road ahead of me, if i am going to make any impact here. ho hum. the villages were great, so beautiful, set in fields of cotton, corn and peanuts. i had to trudge through a swamp to get to one, and in my head i heard every doctor and my Mum screaming “don’t do it-don’t walk through the swamp barefoot!” the feces/snakes/bacteria hidden in there i didn’t even want to think about. but my homolouge turned back to me and said “c’est afrique”, so i did it. took off my shoes and took the plunge. returned home severely dehydrated and read the rest of the day. eating lots of yams, tis the season.
 i have been thinking how much i love the atmosphere within each compound, it is like walking into another person’s house. there is a different smell, a different group of people, sometimes different colors. there is a hierarchy of who does what chores and a certain rhythm to the work being done. it’s a team effort, but very
 interesting.
 *gaggle of kids eating yams here, watching me write. i might go hide.
highlights of the day: got diarrhea on my doorstep, didn’t make it to the latrine
 porc intestine demonstration for lunch (strangely two unrelated incidents) now that i have the roof platforn, i hear lizards stampeding across the ceiling, back and forth, back and forth, i feel like i am at pimlico, hon
 AGMO called! thanks miss, love you
Was sitting outside this morning, like i do every morning, with my coffee and a book, thinking about what i would do today, when my mama rushed over to me and told me to hurry, come! actually, she just grabbed my arm (my komkomba isn’t that good yet, but i was translating her sign language in my head) and signaled for me to put my shoes on (this meant we were leaving the compound). we shimmied across the dirt path that runs through the village and entered another compound across the way. after greeting everyone and gettin’ down low to greet the elders who were there (a sign of respect), i was ushered into a small, dark room (which was painted a glorious deep blue color!) and handed a BEAUTIFUL NAKED SQUIRMING RED BABY!! it’s skin was white, like mine (are black babies born this light?) and i tried to express this to the three other women in the room (had not had enough coffee). one lay on the ground on a straw mat, i assumed her to be the mother, another sat by her side, the mother of the mother, and then my mum, who grabbed the squirmy baby back and proceeded to dump it in bin after bin of scalding hot water and alternately rub it with a pungent balm that looked painful because the baby was screaming its head off and then dunk it (head first) into the water basins. behold- a konkomba baptism. cool!
if you have some money in togo, and you are a man, you buy a bike. a really crappy piece of metal, one that squeaks and protests to be used, and you use it until it literally cannot be taped together any more.
 if you have a little bit more money, you buy a moto. pretty much a recycled, hand-me-down motorcycle from the 1980s or older, that coughs up black smoke and jerks back and forth when low on gas. volunteers here have to ride motos to get around anywhere (unless we are traveling on the national highway, where we take bush taxis) and every time i get on one i think i am going to die. not like i am scared or slightly worried. no, i legitimately am convinced the end of my life is just around this next corner, when the moto skids on some loose rock and i go careening over the side of the road to my death. i spend the whole ride (which is about 45 minutes from my marche town to village) adjusting my helmet, clutching the seat to stay connected and all i can think is “mum would kill me if i died in a moto accident here”.
 so, today my homolouge showed up at 8 a.m. and we drove into kouka (my marche town) and stopped at a variety of ciment huts to meet important people- aka parade the new white girl around. it was great fun, like visiting twelve DMVs in a row. as i sat and nodded to the steady stream of perfumed men (many wearing eyeliner) who entered each establishment, wishing i brought a book, i was taken right back to the cobb county DMV in georgia. we waited for 40 minutes, only to find out the guy we were waiting for was in fact, not there. oh well. we had a calabash (local beer) and returned home.
9/25
 next wednesday=october!? what!? crazy! 3 weeks till the next training! lots of volunteers are leaving their villages to party around the country, but i have stayed in village, only venturing to market each week. it has been a strange, long, frustrating, but beautiful month. missing rosh Hashanah (please eat lots of apples and honey for me noodleman) and send me some honey/dried apples when you can! i really miss both food items. woke up this morning to the running of the vermin in my roof. it sounds like a baby is toddling, dragging a family of marbles with him across my ceiling, back and forth, back and forth. i lie there trying to imagine what animal this could be. yesterday i spent the afternoon out under the mango tree with my family shooting the shit, speaking, well, listening, to konkomba. it really is a pretty language. not pretty like italian or french, but words that are hard and choppy, many are onomonopias! like a car horn, or an engine turning over, these are words! here they mean things, obviously, and are used in stories. it is so funny to hear someone use all the noises in their stories, i cannot possibly describe it here (reason to visit!). i visited my “garden” which was a complete flop, except for some radishes, puny little things. my homolouge had never seen a radish before and didn’t know what to do with it, so he wouldn’t let me pick them. he thought they were carrots, poor thing. so, i had to sneak into the garden to collect about 40 radishes, which i proceeded to share with people as i walked back home, they REFUSED to touch them or eat them and balked at the idea a human could eat them. huh. if only they knew how much mental strength it took for me to start eating their meals. so, there goes the radish crop, bon appetite, wild animals. hope your colons love ‘em. i saw a dead dog hauled off a moto yesterday and watched, amazed, as a group of children burned it, whole, to scrape off the hair, then chop it up into 50 cfa pieces- tail, head, tongue, paws and all to roast for dinner- eaten with a sauce of pimont and tomato paste, of course). i kept repeating “yum-o” although i doubt my sarcasm was caught. i have a confession to make. sometimes, like 2-3 times a day, i hide in my hut and pretend im not here and just wait for people to leave. (i hide under the one window because they peer in it looking for me). oftentimes, they just want to stare at my gas stove or water filter and i don’t like to be disturbed during dinner/snack/lunch. so, i hide. last night, when the smoked dog was delivered to my doorstep, i hid. come on, is that even kosher!? what does the bible say about eating dogs? what if they are blessed? headed out now to get fresh bread and greet the elders under the tree.
 love!!
*there are more posts from the month of october i have yet to type in- sorry!!!*** j’arrive!
UPDATE from the war on poor soil and poorly behaved kittens
“you know you are in love when you can’t fall asleep and reality is finally better than your dreams”- dr. seuss
 isn’t that a sweet quote? don’t hate, im living in a hut in west africa and i feel fully entitled to write down strange quotes and write them on my roof-beams for inspiration. No, i am not in love, and most nights that i sleep well enough to dream, my dreams are often better than my reality. i dream of air conditioning, running cold water, refrigerators, driving in cars and walking the frozen food isles of grocery stores. there are people in my dreams too, but the cold-ness is usually the big take-away.
 i pulled this quote from a spring 2011 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, as i am starved for reading material now my kindle is broken. i am shocked at the clothing we let our young girls run around in. knees showing! thighs showing! the internet! such nice, shiny clothing! so colorful! lots of white people! also- we spend a lot of money on things. like jewelry. and we worry a lot. about what people think of us, and what we should buy friends and what to eat and how to get skinny. so interesting reading it from my perspective; read:the floor of my mud hut. i have a few magazines from America, lots of Bon Appetites (my fav), some Atlantics and Time magazines. It is a really interesting experience to read criticisms of American culture, so far removed both physically and now emotionally from home. i have been in africa for so long, many of the things that startled me my first few weeks here (things i wrote about here) (naked children with distended bellies) (livestock being slaughtered on the side of the road) (nothing ever happening on time, or at all) have become my status quo here, i freak out when i see fat babies or sit in front of a fan. *just a head’s up, i am going to be a hot mess when i get home, i apologize in advance. we are going straight to the Giant, buying thick, cold chocolate ice cream and sitting in front of air
 conditioning eating it until i am so cold i need to put on socks*. These articles about racism and poverty and women’s equality, i find them fascinating, but hard to relate to almost? like i am reading them as a total outsider. i can imagine the problems happening and can remember it from home, but i just get frustrated reading sometimes because ill flip by an advertisement for a $4000 watch and read about how kids have to eat government-subsidized school lunches. And i think “schools? with heat? air conditioning? desks? books? chalkboards? teachers? electricity? bathrooms? provided lunch?” we are so whiny! A year ago, i was covering school council meetings where parents were complaining about the size of parking lots, and trivialities of marching band practices. but then, these are normal and valid complaints of a society that has eradicated malaria and engrained in its people how to not poop in the streets and how to wash their hands. so, i apologize for my reaction and am a bit embarrassed by it, but thought, meh, why not through it on the internet to be picked apart by my most beloved intellectuals? i am tracking my thoughts as i move through this process, and just how i can’t relate to my thoughts three months ago, i probably will feel different in a while. so here, a plea: don’t hate me for feeling this way! enjoy American comforts! send them to me! love love love to you all, and the raccoon in the trash can, who eats better than me.*that last sentence was for alli, sorry i know it was strange*
Here is my summary/report of my village i turned in to my program director (environmental action and food security is the name, don’t wear it out) for our one-week training we had last week. We learned more in-depth about some of the projects and work we can do in villages, like beekeeping and public gardens and goat elevage (which is a fancy french word for raising goats for profit). Here goes:
Hannah Morgan EAFS on the job II
 10/2014
 Namab, West Kara
Namab is a small, isolated village nestled in the flatlands of West Kara. Population is around 2,000 inhabitants, most families are subsistence farmers. The village is spread across a 5K stretch of flat land and a large, newly-paved road splits the village in half. There is a pump on either side of the road, and water is a major and constant concern for women and families, requiring much time and effort. Cash crops include cotton, peanuts, corn, yams and soy. Other crops grown but kept in village include small amounts of adema, gumbo, green beans, millet, manioc and pimont. The village is home to a number of animals, who roam the roads and compounds as they please. These animals are bred for eating, although mostly consumed by men, who eat the meat as they please and leave the children and then women, to whatever is left. Animals include chickens, porc, goats, ducks, lamb, guinea fowl, dogs and cows. Cows are also milked on a regular basis, and the milk is sold up and down the area to nearby villages. Diets consist of a cycle of corn (pate, grilled, boiled) and yams (fufu, boiled, grilled), with small sauces with vegetables and sometimes meat. There are two mills in the village and two cement buildings where extra corn flour and yams are stored throughout the year, although the supply dwindles drastically during hot season. Last year, the corn flour went bad and many people in Namab (I wanted so badly to call them Namabians) were stretched for food. There is one small boutique where basic foodstuffs can be purchased, including alcohol, soap, sugar, salt and canned tomato paste. Food is restricted to what can be grown and found in Namab, as the nearest marche is 30K away in the prefectural capitol city, Guerin-Kouka on Sundays only. The voyage to the marche is too expensive and far for most people, so farmers sell their crops to a group of wealthy Muslim women, who take the goods and sell them at the weekly marche.There is one small night marche on Sunday nights, where music is sometimes played and the local millet beer is served. Sometimes women sell rice and sauce or fried soja.
 Many environmental problems plague the farmers of Namab. Recent changes in the environment and years of inconsistent and unsustainable farming methods have raped the land of its nutrients. Farmers are dependent upon fertilizer and continue to plant the same
 nutrient-greedy crops in the same plots year after year. Farmers look to tradition and elder family members for help and advice and are resistant to new ideas like elevage, agroforestry and composting. These are not concepts Togolese are familiar with or comfortable attempting on their own, they have made that very clear. During rainy season, the rocky and sandy soil is prone to erosion, and the main road to the town was washed out in September 2014, making it impassable by moto, car or bike. Villages deeper into the bush past Namab experienced increased cases of malaria and starvation, I have been told by the village cheif.
 There is one primary school and one middle school, which function at overcapacity Monday through Friday 6:45 a.m. to noon, then again from 3 p.m.-5 p.m. Many girls do not complete primary school and lack a basic education. Konkomba is spoken throughout the village, and only those privileged few who have attended CEG or higher education (mostly men) speak French.
 There is a latrine project in the works, through a Togolese NGO, and Namab is expecting to be home to a few latrines by April 2015. There is also work being done on a burned-out dispensaire, which is expected to be completed by the end of hot season, 2015. There is no other medical facility, and people are forced to treat themselves with traditional, animist methods or find a way to a small volunteer-run hospital in a neighboring village 15K away, Nampoch. If there is an emergency, some families with the money available, send their sick ones to the hospital in Guerin-Kouka. Many people die in Namab. Potential projects in Namab are vast. There is much potential for many small projects that, hopefully, can be carried on by villagers and maybe future volunteers. Projects include a community compost pile, a model garden with a chicken house for eggs, pig/rabbit elevage, beekeeping (already an infrastructure for this), an environmental club with room for a school garden at the CEG, or potentially at the disponsaire when it is completed. There is interest in planting a mango plantation at the school, and potentially other plantations at the disponsaire and, hopefully, within fields. My personal goal would be to try to amplify the weekly marche, encouraging women and families to sell their wares to each other in Namab, transforming food or preserving it, or selling elevage or honey…etc.
 All-in-all, Namab is a swell place to call home for the next two years. With increased knowledge of Konkomba and French, work will and can only improve. I expect to learn a lot from my villagers bien sur, and hope to form many lasting partnerships and friendships.
THE PACKAGES ARRIVED THE PACKAGES ARRIVED I AM SOMEBODY!! but somebody who crushed four bags of dried fruit, a can of Nilla Wafers and then stood in the middle of a mud hut, dripping with sweat, eating a bag of pumpkin mellow cremes with a headlamp on just because i could. a low point? i’ll let you decide. it was delicious. thank you. s end more dried fruit.
IAM SORRY FOR THE DELAY IN POSTINGS< i really don’t have access to the internet. i live in one of the last places in togo yet to be reached by electricity, running water, cell towers…etc. I am trying! I continue to write most every day-for sanity’s sake- and am just going to type up a few blog posts from the past months and later on, when i have the time and courage, might type up the rest.
 hope it’s ok, sorry for the grammar/strange topics.
10/12/14
 I have been talking with other volunteers who have been struggling, and it has surfaced a lot of the issues i am struggling with and led me to question a lot of things- my purpose here, what affect i will have on my community, why i am doing this, what i will leave behind, is this worth it…etc. it has been great to have roo calm me down (thanks muss) so please, keep the phone calls coming! yesterday i spend two hours painting about 10 kids’ LEFT hand nails -we eat with the right hand here, so it can’t be beautified- they boys were clamoring for the polish, and with my super-sexist community, they pushed themselves to the front of the line and bumped girls out of the way to get painted. it was so fully, totally not a girls-only thing here. seven of these kids are watching me write right now, so funny. nobody writes here, very few people (except for school-age boys and some girls) know how to write and read. a close volunteer mentioned on the phone that my definition of “development” will be a thing that keeps me mentally occupied for the next two years, but these small moments, the person-to-person interactions that may have nothing to do with aiding the environment will be the footprint i leave behind- i’m not doing a great job “changing” people here, but we did have a great time painting all these dirty nails cherry red.
 15-12-14
 MONDAY. wow. rough week last week. dealing with a lot of
 disappointments in village, felt so isolated and without friends in the country. stressed because none of the projects and ideas i have seem to be going anywhere. i am sad, because i missed you all and my comfortable life at home and i felt a little more supported and confident in my daily activities there. after a hard day, i could always shower, watch tv, or eat ice cream…left village saturday, after a rescheduled meeting with my homolouge was again ignored. urgh. went to kouka to another volunteer’s house and spent the day drinking red wine out of a box, eating popcorn and rice with peanut sauce and watching gilmore girls. now back in village feeling refreshed and a little better, well, not so alone, in the feeling that all my projects are failing. catie understands what it is like to have projects fail, for togolese work partners to stand you up and forget about you. im reading the RPCV book Nine Hills to Nambonkatta and it is making me super happy. the author’s village in Cote D’ivore sounds similar to mine, although it took place 10 years ago, my village is still experiencing many of the same issues (malnutrition, death by malaria, no running water, electricity, local food preparation, seasons…etc.) it is giving me confidence i am not alone. someone else has done this before, and succeeded. finished service and made an impact. Granted, the author did know french before her service and is able to hold complex conversations with her family, friends, work partners…etc. i wonder what it would have been like to have understood what was going on for my first five months here….today i sat with my two good friends (i named them rose and violet, for the only shirts they wear, one is pink the other purple) after lunch and it has become my favorite time of the day. speaking a mix of konkomba/french, touching my hair and eating papayas and peanuts together. they are both in middle school, super sweet and driven. i want to make sure they go to high school in the bigger city next year. they scolded me for having my right hand painted today. oops. this morning i got chased down by the Cum (fermented corn balls they eat for breakfast here, served with red oil and pimont) lady, who, after a brief hiatus, seems to have returned to village. I also got a visit from my neighbor who lives in the hut across the corn field next to my house, who came to inform me Harmattan, the season where the winds blow in from the savannah desert and things are super dry, dusty, but sometimes nippy and cold (read:60 degrees). the kittens have colds, the dust is too much for them. too cute. kittens sneezing.
12-15
 TIA. just finished writing (bethany!) a letter and went to the mill, where people go to grind their dried corn into flour to make all their food, was forced to babysit a mob of children while their mothers fixed the squeaky mill and was suckered into having a calabash (fermented millet beer) with my friend, brother of the chief. you know you are in africa when you are sitting on a tiny, protesting slab of wood next to a woman breastfeeding and drinking beer, sipping out of a dried gourd, following a conversation in konkomba, only to look into the bottom of your gourd and discover maggots swimming at the bottom of your calabash. other highlights of the day: spoke with alli! spoke with the director of the middle school and obtained permission to talk with young girls about their periods (of which they have had no formal education, only traditional myths and treatments). yeah!
This morning i was woken by tigris, who has found a way to sandwich himself into the extra folds of my mosquito net and squirm his way onto the “bed” of mats i sleep on, purring like crazy. it’s an intense purr, sounds like a helicopter taking off. so, woken up by that at 5:45, got some fresh milk from the nomadic Fulani (look it up!) woman who is in town, gave some to the kittens and was almost run over on my way home by my host mama, dressed in a blue payne, who told me my homolouge’s grandmother died last night. i wasn’t sure quite how to react- deaths of old people are celebrated here, but i don’t know if a death is cause for cheer at 6 a.m.- nothing except coffee is usually celebrated by me that early. i made a half-hearted fist pump and said “fete” and she broke down laughing and started dancing. then she tried getting me to dance, tigris ran out of the hut, and i blocked out everything due to confusion/lack of caffeine. ten minutes later, i threw on an old skirt and stopped by my homolouge’s compound. i found him dressed in his velor mobster tracksuit, one he only wears for special occasions. i passed on my condolences and he invited me to come by to see the burial later, and, of course to drink gin and dance. i had nothing else planned this afternoon except to hang out with violet and rose, so i guess i could squeeze it in. it’s hard to avoid funerals here, in a town the size of stars hollow (read:300) everyone parties together. there’s no hiding.
 speaking of no hiding, death is a normal, even exciting thing here. when someone dies, his/her body is watched over/danced over until it is buried (within 24 hours) and everyone from the village and surrounding villages comes to see the body and visit the family. so, yesterday, i went to check up on the status of the grave and the ETA of the burial, and was ushered into yet another dingy, dark hut and watched as i greeted the body. i didn’t know what to do, again, but stare at the dead lady, who was sitting in a plastic lawn chair wrapped in a payne,surrounded by women fanning her. i did a little bow, put my hands in praying positions and quickly turned around, as there was a steady stream of women coming into see her- followed by shots of pastis, which was carried around all day by children in buckets on their heads. yep. pregnant women, nursing women, it’s a fete, so everyone has to drink. unless you are hannah, in which case you sit with the men drinking millet beer under the mango trees. waiting for the body to be buried. spent 20 minutes watching children sparring with dead livestock- decapitated chickens- out front of the hut as well.
CHRISTMAS IN DAPONG, the northern-most city in togo! we climbed some caves, picked shea butter nuts from trees, went to burkina faso, saw other volunteers…super fun, and tasty! im back home, sitting in front of the hut looking through old SYLE magazines with kids, they FLIP over the dresses and celebrities wearing nail polish, they esp. like hair shampoo ads. and car ads. today i found kids scraping dried pieces of rice stuck to the bottom of my bowl i was soaking, and realized i am no longer phased by this anymore. these kids are like my siblings, i am glad they feel comfortable hanging out with me. i know their parents, siblings, grandparents, and what they eat every day. i know when they are sick, out of village, or working in the fields. i’ve never lived in a community like this before, even in college i didn’t know this much about everyone on my hall. it is hard to be in the spotlight all the time, without any privacy, but i am loving this experience to be part of such a close-knit and small community, even if this one is really behind-the-times and in the middle of nowhere. i love these people and i believe myself to be a part of the community now. the sahara winds are picking up, the dust is unbearable- constant sinus gunk. (mum, send me mucinex!? please?) new years is approaching, it’s about it be nonstop fete fete fete!
i am in control over very little here in africa. weather, food, daily routine, cell phone coverage, deaths, water accessibility, its all out of control. im trying to go along with it, but its hard to sometimes. loose control of everything. coming here, to this village has been the hardest thing i have ever done. staying here, sometimes i question why i do, a close volunteer to me has chosen to go home early and its been making me think about why i am here. i don’t have many successful projects and many things in this country frustrate me, and its hard being nice and polite and eating tasteless corn with people all the time, but i finally feel a part of this community. i can barely understand 2 new languages and i want to see my friends finish school, i want to see new babies born and celebrate deaths with my
 family/friends here. there is much more i have to do before im ready to walk down the frozen aisle of Giant.
 i like to do things that scare me, like moving to africa, interviewing politicians, traveling alone driving on the highway…etc. my parents taught me its ok to fall and trip, im blessed in that department, and i always had a home to curl up and recover in if things didn’t work out. i did something super scary on christmas morning, and i hope you all wont hate me. i chopped off my hair, which had grown down to my butt and had become the adoration of everyone in village. i loved it. it was my best accessory, i could hide behind it, or pull it out when i needed to impress someone (really). but it was getting lots of attention from men, becoming tangled and itchy, hard to fit into my moto helmet and difficult to wash in bucket baths. so, i took a leap and got rid of it. lots of mixed reactions from africans and other americans alike, but i am excited for this adventure, growing it back. and, i can now check this off my bucket list- more details later, sorry!!!!
1/14/15- i hope you know, family, that by sending me socks, i take it as an invitation to wear them with tevas. yes. i only wear tevas with socks now, they are my shoes for when i have open wounds on my feet and i don’t want flies to eat at my pussing foot mess. lovely, enviable, i know. this weekend i was in the “big city”- aka KARA with volunteers from this region for a planning meeting for an infant malnutrition tour we are doing this spring across our region. We are going to bike from village to village, teaching local volunteer health workers in each village how to implement a 12-day intense infant nutrition program to bring moderately malnourished children up into a healthy weight. on the way, local families will be letting us sleep outside on their grounds, cooking for us and encouraging their neighbors to get involved. Going to be exciting. long. hot. and in french and Bassar, a language very similar to konkomba.
 My mentality has changed so much since arriving in June, and though i like who i have become, it’s hard to deal with a lot of the same problems day in and day out (all-carb diet, language barrier, lack of work in village, lack of female friends, isolation…etc.) Africa has exasperated a few of my personal traits, and i have a lot of time to reflect on relationships of the past, and how i tend to back away from situations with commitment and requiring lots of trust- while the work here is hard, i am trying to stick to this commitment and open up to people- Africans and other volunteers. i still have 20 more months to go. that sounds like a lot, but also not a lot…So, this all wraps up to the fact that things in village are slow, but i hope to have a girls club meeting today, and i started a new book. still waiting for my homolouge to show up and help me build a fence for a garden, and i am waiting for my french tutor to recover from some illness he came down with in october. ALSO, my hair is growing! the kids love watching my white scalp get covered with hair again, and they LOVE coming over and petting it. all i can think is “poop hands, poop hands….”
On 10/18/14, Hannah Morgan wrote:
 > LOVE!!!!!!
 > sorry it isn’t totally updated, but i am still writing on a semi-regular > basis, when not being chased by bushrats
 >
 > 7/19
 >
 > don’t even know what day it is anymore. i’ve got three kids staring in at > me through my screen door right now and unfortunately, they know my name. > have no idea where to even begin pronouncing their names (Onorlaeye?). the > day began when all the village children sat on my porch with me and we > pointed at things and spoke Konkomba and then i had them shell a bunch of > peanuts i was given by an old toothless man. it’s hard because they are all > malnourished with distended stomachs and ripped clothes, if they are > wearing clothes at all (they look like house elves) and i kept seeing them > sneak nuts away to eat later. everyone in the village stopped by to see > what we were up to. everyone. i came inside for a 10-minute break and my > French tutpr shows up and starts clapping his hands to get me to come > outside -rude. unannounced, he strolls in and thank goodness, he “speaks > english” because he stuttered four words in english to me and that was it. > i hung with the women on my porch and left for a walk as my three little > rascal children followed me the whole way. it is beautiful here. just > gorgeous. i keep thinking of the next two years ahead and it seems an > eternity but after seeing how time works here, i understand how it is going > to take me at least a year to get an idea of what the heck is going on. > every day is different here. there is no way to make a routine of schedule > yet but my job these next two weeks, after being dropped off in a rural > African village in the middle of nowhere to watch and learn has been pretty > cool. it’s hard to live here, and i often think of my life in the states, > of my friends and family, but i have faith i’ll be back to hear all about > your adventures soon enough. life here is just so *different*, i’ll never > be able to explain, but that itself is kinda cool, i think. >
 >
 > 7/22
 >
 > sitting by the window as a huge storm comes in. the sky is a magnificent > dark blue/grey (Alli would know the exact color, go NADS), but after a > long, strange day, hearing the sounds of children, families running inside > their huts is incredible. there are mice infested in my hut and i spent all > morning chasing them out and around my house- and through my bed- and spent > the rest of the morning in a panic attack trying to clean up mouse poop and > cricket carcasses. yeah. went outside and played with the kids for a while > (aka clapped and let them stare at me) which is always a strange > experience. even though we can’t understand each other, i am more than > comfortable making a fool of myself and drooling, getting dirty with them. > they are violent, though, and beat each other, rolling around on the cement > half naked. they constantly ask for food and fought over my trash today, > hitting each other for an old sardine can. going to get out of the wa > because my roof leaks and i am sitting by the window. too dark in rest of > hut to write.
 >
 >
 > 8/16
 >
 > at post, officially a PCV! feels good to be here, thank you for asking. the > entire drive out here yesterday (10.5 hours, including stops for bread, > bananas, corn, yams, fufu and rice) i felt strangely exhilarated. Sure, i > did have the added bonus of not waking up hung over (we were not allowed to > have a party after we swore in at the embassy), but i also felt READY to > come back to Namab. it was tough and sad leaving my new (2.5 month-old) > friends, but we will see each other soon enough at a training in October. i > have close neighbors (30K) and amazing people in my “cluster” of regional > volunteers. i have a strong(er) base of gardening and farming knowledge and > am now making enough money to but the occasional banana or coconut at the > market. Namab is just as beautiful as i remember it. my compound family > seems excited to have me back (i brought them bread after being away for so > long, a togolese tradition, and they flipped). i have spent the day > maneuvering buckets in front of my hut to collect rainwater that continues > to pour down- wonderful, loud sound- just like being in the camper. my > children friends are just as clingy as ever, but i hope with time to get to > work with their mothers or fathers. i brought back a broom, a new pillow, > ghee and a LOT of chocolate from Lome, and am excited to fix this old hut > (actually it is new, but made of mud and falling apart. the wall connecting > my hut to my latrine collapsed in the rain this morning, which bodes well > for the rest of the hut, no?) and make it a home. hope to continue to learn > french and konkomba and to work up the courage and comfort to spend time > outdoors socializing, exploring and interacting. oh my, list of things to > do today include: consolidating water buckets into trash cans, shower, meet > with homologe about constructing a proper roof for hut and finish my loaf > of bread before it molds. very busy, you see. love love.
 >
 >
 > 8/17
 >
 > just woke up from an actually, fairly decent sleep on the floor, only woke > up 3-4 times to chase away mice/crickets, so my morning is starting off > great! my family called yesterday and it made my day, thank you so much! > something was mentioned about a lantern, which would be amazing, thanks! > ate nothing but a loaf of bread and chocolate bar (belle france alli, the > kind from paris) yesterday as i have no food here in my village. alas. > today is the marche, i am hoping to find colorful food (not white or > brown). i woke up and began sweeping my hut, as each night, dirt, dust and > water trickle in from the termite-infested ceiling. bug carcasses and mice > droppings, what else goes with coffee? as soon as i swept outside, all the > women in my compound came over to say hi- in konkomba- and we did a short > run-through of all the greetings in the local language. then i proceeded to > hit my head in the doorframe of my hut – built for a hobbit- and promptly > swallowed a mouthful of listerine. so, im not sure if the tears were from > the listerine or collision, but there have been tears, alli. >
 > in my time in Togo, i think my attitudes toward working and living here > have shifted incredibly. i came in thinking of the number of projects i > would be working on, exactly the day-to-day schedule, changes, personal > activities that would occupy me whenever i was placed. i understand now, > going into the next two years, i am only going to focus on surviving. > everything else will be a nice benefit/bonus, but working and living here > in Namab, making friends, fixing this hut and learning from these people > will be enough. a detailed project right now is unreasonable. dad keeps > asking me “what will you be doing?” and i honestly don’t know. it is hard > to preduct because “work” here takes on such a different meaning. it takes > work to get water. it takes work to wash clothes. it takes work to keep > mice droppings off food, clean myself, clean dishes,prepare food and being > surrounded and stared at by an entire village (think stars hollow and > Luke’s restaurant). Everything takes so much more time and “work” than we > are used to back home. i understand, after training, i have been infused > with a lot of project ideas and knowledge (think beekeeping, rabbit > elevage, crop rotation) but i need to asses where Namab is at first, i need > to see what time and motivation people here have to change, desire to work > with me, or learn from me. i have to wait and i think let them meet me > halfway. i want anything i do to be sustainable, which can’t happen if i > barge in and start demanding things. im not a missionary. because i am a > new post, i have to get this house up and running, i have to prove to these > villagers i am a person with knowledge, feelings and that i am worth their > time and friendship. that might take two years to do, and that, merely > surviving here, might be my “work.” going to festivals, shopping at the > market, greeting these people day in and day out, watching them grow, have > children, change and having them remember my name might be enough. two > months ago, i would have never said that, but that’s how i feel now that i > am at post. miss you all, send love and letters!
 >
 >
 >
 > read:
 >
 > anna karenina. loved. long.
 >
 > happily ever after, nora roberrts
 >
 > issac’s storm- eric larson (loved it dad, i remember when you read this > before galveston, really great book for rainy season)
 >
 >
 > 8/19
 >
 > settling in, i guess, to life here at post. it’s 7 a.m., i just popped my > malaria mediation and mixed some powdered milk into my nescafe coffee > (Can’t wait to set up my gas to heat up water and french press it). i am > sitting out in front of my hut in a sweatshirt (good idea, mum) because it > rained last night! it feels like a michigan mornings at the sandcastle. > already said hi to all the women in my compound, they are busy crushing > corn pellets and starting fires already at work while the weather is cool. > every day is truly a new adventure. a bit scary to wake up and know as soon > as i step outside, i will be watched and scrutinized, that there is no plan > to the day, i might not get anything done. but still, i am focusing on > slowing down, enjoying the view, the company of these beautiful people and > these great books. sunday was marche day again so i took a bush taxi to > kouka and wandered around the market alone, nought some beads, a pot and > onions, tomatoes and dish soap. also a few fried dough balls-pancake-like > things, sand maple syrup, but dunked in this sugar spice mix, really good. > met up with lauren, the older volunteer, aka my roll model who lives in a > nearby village, we charged our electronics at a friend’s house and she > showed me where the post office, clothes maker and bank are. i headed back > on a moto to village for a soccer match my homolouge was coaching and > cheered on as my village beat the living (fill in with your word of choice > here) out of Lauren’s village! 5-0! lauren actually showed up, the first > ever second white person to visit, and my villagers went crazy. she has > already lived here a year and knows KonKomba and french better than me, so > they love, love, loved her. my host mama gave us some calabashes at my hut > and we drank with some of the men as i gave her a tour of my set-up here. > fantastic day, really remarkable. also been receiving phone calls and texts > from friends in the region, we are all checking in on each other to see > that we are all settling into our posts alright- i am so blessed to have > such a strong suppost system here, good friends, good teachers, good role > models and an amazing village. yesterday the menusier was supposed to come > to fix my roof (after the day of rain saturday, when he took a pass from > working). there are still leaks that need fixing, stat! i waited around all > day in front of my house for him to show, but he never did. i read an > entire book, so it wasn’t terrible, but i was a little peeved. ate a lot of > chocolate. finally gave up on him and wandered out of the hut where i found > my gma sitting under a mango tree. i sat down with her and ended up talking > wtih passerby (well, giving them a bewildered look when they tried speaking > french to me) and taking a petit lesson in konkomba by pointing to things > (chickens, baby chickens, dead goats, neem trees) and writing down, > phonetically their names. it was great to get out and interact with people > as they are so open to teaching me. met the health guy, although he works > out of his hut, he wants to work with me on malaria stiff! or so he says. i > was promised a visit by the menusier again, so i will wait, start another > book, drink coffee, eat some oatmeal and wait. alas, it is scary to live > here and never understand things, but it will be good to recognize people, > learn more names, practice french and learn my way around. thanks for the > praters, care packages and phone calls, all wonderfully helpful! love to > the max!
 >
 >
 >
 > XXXXXXXX
 >
 >
 > 8/20
 >
 > the last two days were a frustrating blur of Konkomba, dampness, peanut > butter and waiting. i was told, yet again, the menusier would show up to > help me order furniture and to fix my roof. in the meantime, while i > waited, i plowed through books and sat out on my porch for hours with my > new friend, 19, koubley. he is so patient with me trying to speak french, i > am so blessed. yesterday, after i had finished my nescafe, i was out of > coffee, as my french press is packed away and i haven’t wanted to unpack > and then pack again when the menusier just shows up. so, i decided to make > matcha tea, but i had to use three packets to get the desired caffeine > level, of course. as i finished my tea with milk powder, my homolouge shows > up (8:20 a.m.) and says we are going to the menusier ourselves. we walked > through gorgeous gorgeous fields, you could see ghana on our left, just > green for as far as the eye could see. fig tree! i found one and a shea > nut, i was super stoked. we showed up in this village, turns out the > carpenter was in the fields, but i was told to wait while every person in > the village checked by to see if i was real. we waited two hours. he never > showed. i was parched and made the executive decision we would head home. > Koussey bought me a togolese sprite (i guess i looked woozy.) hydration is > everything, hydration is nothing. i made lunch. rice, beans, peanut butter, > bread, then was interrupted by my new friend and his brother. they stop by > to look at my dictionary and we waited ensemble. at 5 p.m., the menusier > rolls in, smells of alcohol and tries to tape a plastic bag over my roof as > protection. i broke down crying as he had brought along all his friends to > gawk at my home, they were positively delighted with the gas stove, water > filter and water bottles, all a little drunk, crammed into my house. i was > extremely flustered. i sent them away, called someone in the PC, who told > me to send him an e-mail detailing what roof i needed. i can’t. chocolate > sandwich for dinner again.
 >
 > all goes to show, i am really not a tea person.
 >
 >
 > 8/22
 >
 > thank god i’ve seen the parent trap. was sitting in my chambre (aka hiding > because people keep coming to my door, clapping and asking to see my tatoo, > then laughing and bringing over more friends. a girl needs time to eat > bread, yo!) back to the set up here, i’m propped on the cement floor > against the wall, munching away and being as quiet as possible turning the > pages of my kindle when something drops on my head, it’s not dust, which i > am naturally covered in because the roof still doesn’t have a ceiling, but > i reach up and viola, a small lizard wriggles into my arms, then rests in > my hand. i have no idea where to even begin with a lizard, do you smush it, > chop it, chase it? any advice would be much appreciated. the morning > started off as any other, dodging piles of shit as i headed to the latrine > (dog, mouse, chicken, goat) and waving to the women and children in my > compound. the cows are lying down so i take it as a sign we are going to > see scattered showers and to plan for, yet another, uneventful day. > yesterday i sat and read for four hours straight and plowed through two > chocolate bars. you do what you can.sat out with my coffee and powdered > milk (who am i?) and was interrupted by my homolouge who announced we must > be going, the chef was here for a reunion. now, i only left for two weeks, > and the cheif kind of has this saggy eye and doesn’t look at people when he > talks to them, so i wasn’t too stoked to attend. nevertheless, i was super > glad i worse my flower dress with the heart pocket i designed (givenchy’s > fall collection isn’t doing anything for me this year) and walked to the > mango tree in the center of the village (two spits away) where a bunch of > old men were sitting on benches smoking and speaking Konkomba to each > other. i saddled on up to a bench (the only woman there) and the men > scooted away (did i mention i’m the only person here who “wears > deoderant?”) turns out we were meeting about planting trees and i listened > as someone translated between the old men and a man from another village > who had access to seeds. mostly the old men grumbled about doing anything > for the next generation they could not gain from financially and worried > (c’est catostrophic) they might be in the fields working and miss any > notice the seeds were arriving. i wondered why we couldn’t just have the > women plant because in the time it took these men to grumble, spit and > gesticulate, the women could have planted 108,001 trees and done a week’s > worth of laundry. i eventually left (we had sat for 3 hours) and came home > to hide, naturally. i hope i never have to do a lot of work in the future > when i get home. geez, 8-hour workdays seem exhausting from this end of the > world. love love
 >
 >
 > read:half bred horses- jeanette wall. amazing, love her voice! >
 >
 >
 > please send:
 >
 > almonds
 >
 >
 >
 > 8/23
 >
 > one of my favorite things here are togolese weather reports. it’s > incredible how these people interpret clouds, variations in the winds and > the sun. For me, when i see clouds over a grey sky i think, “tut tut, it > looks like rain,” and proceed to stay hidden indoors for hours. For > togolese, they live outside so they learn to read the clouds to gauge when > they will absolutely need to retreat indoors if it indeed will rain. > yesterday it looked like rain, there were pellets dropping and when i > expressed an interest to go home and be inside, the chief looked up and > said, “no, there is sun behind it,” referring to the rainclouds. turns out, > in 20 minutes it was sunny and the rain was gone. i still went home. this > morning, rain clouds again. i asked my homolouge what he thought about the > weather and he said, “i see the clouds, but these have rain that doesn’t > fall.” poetic. thank you so much alli for the call yesterday, it really > made my life. please send any midwifery books and books on french cooking > (cookbooks too!) and my copy of julie and julia please. also a little > sewing kit please! it is very lovely here and each day passes incredibly > slowly, buy wih a rhythm (if anyone visits me, bring the rhythm sticks!). i > have had much time to think and i realized i am terrible at really loving. > i am very adept at building walls and keeping people out, pushing them away > with jokes and excuses from my true feelings. it is very easy for me to > build walls to protect myself from getting hurt and i am extremely hesitant > to let people in to my intimate feelings and thoughts. i haven’t much > experience with love, but i do believe i came to Togo heartbroken, with > strong and sturdy walls formed around me. Togo has been a surprise. with so > many differences, struggling to survive, getting infections and watching > people die from things americans haven’t died from in decades, the walls i > normally build with strangers are crumbling. i find myself more easily > talking to people about bodily functions (aka creaming my pants) past > relationships and regularly embarrass myself publicly. with no common > language between myself and my compund family, there are few walls > (literally). i live in a mud hut, as we all know, and i see these women at > all hours of the day in all states of being. they see me shower, hear me > fart, watch me eat, read, prepare food, drink water (hydration is > everything, hydration is nothing)in a way, these women, with whom i haven’t > expressed anything further than “good morning, good afternoon, thank you > and yeah!” know everything about who i really am. they have seen me cry, > they know the people i hide from, when i like to sleep, wake up, ignore > phone calls, wash my hands and have my period. i watch them take showers, > pee, prepare food, sleep, eat and visit with their friends. this is my new > family. miss you all, love!
 >
 >
 > read:the girl’s guide to hunting and fishing, Melissa Bank. alli read this > book. quinn and bethany, you would adore her.
 >
 >
 > 8/25
 >
 > what a fluster of activity today! yesterday was marche day, so i hightailed > it outta here in a bush taxi and arrived to a bumpin’ scene. i’m just going > to say (because the marche is another blog topic entirely) not only were > there oranges but there were also pineapples. yeah. big deal. we never see > fruit here. bought bread, which is always a mixed bag because it goes bad > quickly here in the humidity and it is always a race to finish it before it > goes bad. but (alli) the bread is incredible here. nice and soft. > yesterday, the ladies of the dogpen (as we call ourselves, although to be > honest we don’t use the word “ladies” because, who are the ladies, really? > i digress) the four volunteers nearest me, who are all female, had a > wonderful trip to the marche where we were jipped left and right on basic > foodstuffs. it is wonderful there are other volunteers who rely on the same > market as i do, so i can speak english at least a few times per month! > dinner was fresh bread with melted ghee, sauteed onions and tomatoes! > complete with the last (read:emergency levels here) of my chocolate stash > (i like it dark, salty and with peppermint even. milk chocolate won’t stay > solid here). today, woke up, struggled to get out of bed at 6:30 (turns out > my alarm had been going off since 5:30?). it is truly an inherited gift > from papa, but if you give me a night to sleep, i’ll conch out and not wake > up until the frigo in me decides it is ready. doesn’t translate in africa, > where people get up with the chickens at 5 a.m.sleep here is still very > difficult, as i have now identified two types of beetles in the hut, which > brings the total number of living crawlers in here to 7. my homolouge was > supposed to be in Kara (the big city two hours away. they even have > internet there, i’ve heard) but showed up at my hut today? many different > things are going on today, but i have absolutely no idea what or where, i > just can tell people are busier than normal. i have an infection on my foot > i am worried about and i have to go to the pump to get water, write again > soon. love!
 >
 >
 > 8/27
 >
 >
 > how is it almost september!? goodness! almost two weeks into post for > real, so i have almost lived here a month! let’s take a look: all > possessions still remain in boxes. no furniture, aka still cooking, > sitting, sleeping and eating on the floor. have yet to understand a word of > “french” spoken to me here and have NOT mastered carrying water, or > anything for that matter, on my head. i still make babies cry with my > lovely, shiny, reflecting white skin. i am maintaining a steady diet of > bread, peanut butter, corn, popcorn, oatmeal, raisins, rice, beans, canned > tomato paste and chocolate. and bob, my bowels are not happy. >
 > this week has been, yet again, strange. each day has presented new > opportunities which i did not know about until i was dragged off by some > african who showed up at my hut. many men show up at my hut at 10 a.m. to > drink the local beer “ndam” out of dried out gourds, women who have seen me > at the pump stop by to look at my water filter, and children come by to > watch me clip my nails. all is slow, but well. i am practicing being still. > sitting. boy, i’ve gotten whatever kid that was @northwood appold beat at > the sitting like a pretzel thing-it’s all i do. i’ve learned to accept i > probably won’t have furniture until Christmas, so i have been figuring out > how to, for the 4th month in a row, live out of a suitcase infested with > crickets and mice. worse things could happen???my roof is still not fixed > and i have gotten used to leaving no trace in the “cooking area” and > following mice around with a flashlight on my rafters each night. > yesterday, i saw the garden space they built for me/the community (not > clear), but it is huge! i am a little intimidated. im not sure what to > plant/how to plant here in africa with this soil/in this
 > climate/season/with these pests…etc. pretty much i am afraid to fail in > front of everyone here, or to let them down. these people have been waiting > for me to arrive and have so many expectations for me, so many plans, i > don’t want to disappoint! i want to show these people they can do whatever > they want here, in time they CAN create animal elevages programs and > utilize crop rotation/compost/plant trees/be nice to spiders- i hope to > provide them with the framework -once i understand it myself. i watched 30 > minutes of gilmore girls last night and it made me miss you all so much. > talking fast, drinking good coffee, walking briskly, blue jeans, jackets, > food..etc. alas, i’ll see all these things again soon enough! alli, please > call me again! roo, school started yet? just can’t believe my baby is > foraging for milk in beantown (speaking of which, i have been delievered, > raw, fresh, steaming cows milk twice this week!one liter is about $1. and > people were dishing out $16 a gallon in ATL for this stuff!)please send me > some recipes for making yogurt and cheese with this milk please! french > cookbooks too, please. mum, dad, frigos, sorry i missed the beach this > year, i hope ou felt me there in spirit. i found some black licorice in > lome!
 >
 > send: black/red corn.gelatin.
 >
 >
 > 8/28
 >
 > as soon as i leave the hut for the bathroom each morning, ususally with my > hogwarts shirt on and a towel wrapped around my waist, hair/breath a hot > mess, people start lining up and start clapping outside my door to greet > me. some want to look at my gas stove. some want to see the water filter. > many want to look at my hair, see what i am wearing and laugh at my wounds > and mosquito bites. my compound family teaches me konkomba (first thing, > without coffee!) which i can’t pronounce or remember, and people gather > round, all speaking quickly and at the same time. it’s like being at home, > except there isn’t coffee already made for me to alleviate the pain. i > immediately make some and bring it out, and the day commences, sitting. >
 > love!
 >
 >
 > 8/29
 >
 > the hardest part of my life so far has been when the sun goes down, or the > night. usually it is so unbearably hot-like baltimore summers, only in an > un-ventilated dark enclosure. i lie on the ciment floor under a sheet > because if i expose any skin, bugs are attracted to my blazing white skin > and will bite me then stick to my sweaty flesh. it is so dark that i can’t > see where anything is coming from, or what bugs they are , but i can hear > them rustling around in my foodstuffs and clothing and with my overactive > imagination (thank you Rold Dahl) it is not good. i can’t turn onto my side > because all of the sheets will stick to me, and i will ultimately expose > skin, and when i turn over, i roll onto a new pile of bugs. i can hear the > mice, everywhere, and see their shadows and hear their little paws darting > across the tin roof and crawling through my wooden ceiling beams. last > night, i woke up twice with mice crawling across me- as if i am more > delicious than my Neopol smoked salt of trader joes trail mix i packed. at > 2:38 this morning, i woke up staring at this rat on my chest and i asked > myself WWAFD? what would a frigo do? and immediately texted the head > security officer for the country. low and behold this morning, before 8:30, > i get a text he is on it, so hopefully i can get some help/a ceiling soon. > i got word yet another volunteer is leaving togo and going home. that’s two > in three months. as i lay in bed fretting about these mice, waiting for > sunlight to appear i realized this very well might be the hardest thing i > ever have to do. i live in a mud hut in the middle of rural africa, no > running water, electricity, constant infections, infested hut, language > barrier and lack of a varied diet (miss vegetables)…etc. if this is it, > if this is it, i mean besides childbirth, if it may only improve from here > (when i get a roof, tables, a cat…etc.) i am truly blessed. at any moment > i could make the phone call and leave, i know that. but then i would be > leaving these truly wonderful people who are so excited to see white skin > they cry and hide. so happy for my arrival, they stare through my door and > windows at me as i eat. so unsure of what to do with me, they come and sit > silently with me, staring at the trees and playing strange animal noises > and every single ringtone on their cell phones. i’ve got kids beating each > other up to sit next to me, and women handing me fried corn product after > mushed corn product. i am so blessed. every one, ok, most of my problems > have a solution. it will just take patience and communication. alas, no HBO > here, but i’m sure AGM will rewatch the entire series of girls with me when > i return. i’m not going to think about this as a two year thing, i’m just > going to try to get through the first three months. week by week, night by > night, ill do it. thanks for reading and supporting me. love! >
 >
 > 8/29
 >
 > woke up late today. yet another night full of interruptions. it threatened > to rain so we moved everything inside at 4 a.m., only for it to roll on > through. GREAT news! i have a table! only three weeks to get it here. woot > woot! so today, i plan to put some stuff on it.
 >
 > yesterday or village football team (how european and sophisticated do i > sound?) was supposed to play the neighboring village’s football team, but > this being Africa, our team didn’t feel like playing so we didn’t. my > homolouge is the coach, and i wanted to support him, so i biked 20 minutes > (downhill on my cruiser, Lucille II) through an empty stretch of Savannah. > it was just beautiful. not too hot, the wind against my armpit hair. i > loved it! wearing my helmet, i packed three water botles and was wearing > socks with my tevas just incase mum knew i wasn’t covering my toes. i also > have an infection on my foot, so i am keeping them covered. i was really > getting into the hilarity of myself when, Buddy the elf style, i just > started shouting “i’m singing! i’m on a bike in Africa and i’m singling!” > the occasional cow glanced over, but i could tell they weren’t impressed. > they didn’t know how to appropriately regard my talent. every person doing > laundry on the side of the road in little ponds (real life watering > holes!), stared at me, and when i greeted them in Konkomba, they freaked > and starting waving, presumably cheering me on my route to victory. i > arrived and was greeted by my homolouge, only to discover the game was > cancelled. we watched another match, which got pretty heated. i was quite > shocked. i listened to the melange of grench and Konkomba being spoken > around me and realized i was the single white person there, it was > kindergarden all over again, mum! and the only women standing the the front > row, with the old and important men. i left at half time- ain’t no way i > was biking in the sweaty dark and i only really only enjoy certain aspects > of various sporting endeavors so i left. my homolouge didn’t want me dying > on the 20 minute flat ride home, so he sent a petit, a young child with me. > instinctively, i could not bike in silence (again, thanks mum) and neither > my konkomba or my french is developed enough to fully and accurately > translate the story of johnny tremain, so i began singing the very first > song that came to mind: hava negila. the kid who i call sam tanner in my > head (gangly, mostly silent, always in a yankees cap) was just floored by > my singing. we biked in silence for a while, and i just started grunted and > whooping, making noises and attempting to impress sam with my mad biking > skills. occasionally, i released one hand from the handlebars and shrieking > with delight. unclear what he thought of it, but we made it home (he beat > me, but i totally let him). immediately, i took a shower and my table > arrived! so now my homolouge and the carpenter have seen me naked. but i > moved it indoors and made a huge batch of sugar/salt popcorn for dinner. > today i think i’ll clean my house, maybe just visit the pump. tomorrow is > market day! alli visit me.
 >
 >
 > book: supersad true love story, gary schindler. i loved it loved it loved > it. quinn/bethany read it.
 >
 >
 > 9/2
 >
 > september! wow. not really ready for it to be my birthday month. 23 is so > old! i mean, taylor swift’s song doesn’t apply to me anymore. ho hum. i > apologize for not writing for two days. seems like forever. now that i have > a table, i am a super busy person. i have only been lounging and settling > into a very slow-paced life. i give the italians a run for their money on a > daily basis. sunday was market day in the “city” so i motoed in and shopped > with my lovely ladies from the dogpen (found the smallest, most pathetic > looking cabbage!) and tomatoes, millet rice and a coconut. also bought a > used baby’s bonnet to use as a cheesecloth for draining the fresh, raw milk > i occasionally get delivered. got back to the volunteer who lives in the > city’s house and drank wine! caught up, swapped stories of life in the bush > and geeked out about books. just as i was preparing to leave the sky turned > purple and black and the family members of catie’s compund started pulling > out big basins of water to collect water. it was then i knew. i wasn’t > going home anytime soon. my little solar charger was left out and is now > destroyed, so there is that problem…but i’m sure ill find a solution down > the line. we all slept at catie’s and made food and talked late into the > night (8:30 p.m.). it was my first night away from village and i missed my > hut. missed thefrantic rushing around before a storm. missed sipping hot > milk and honey, watching the rain fall over the corn. didn’t sleep at all- > guess who also has mice? and got back really early monday morning (6:45 > a.m.). the whole village knew i didn’t come home and i had a parade of > people stop by to see if i was ok. i live in stars hollow. i recouped and > said goodbye to my solar charger. i cleaned the hut and read. everytime it > rains more of the walls, roof and floor fall apart into the hut. i found a > mouse turd on my pillow, which was delightful and made a big lunch. i had a > french lesson later that afternoon and stopped by my neighbor’s house on > the way for a quick hello. it is nice to start seeing familiar faces, > although i still can’t seem to grasp anyone’s name. life is slowing down. i > am loving these rainy days. what i wouldn’t give for some arthur and > gilmores to go with this popcorn. just got a call, someone is coming to > look at my roof soon! next week i hope to have another piece of furniture > arrive! so incredibly blessed to be living here and learning from these > people. alli, please visit soon. been waiting on medicine to arrive for > this foot infection, so i am rocking the socks and tevas for yet another > day. i started reading harry potter again last night at 2 a.m. when the > mouse came out. thinking of projects i can get started on here, i want to > work in my garden, get compost going, chicken elevage, tree planting and > school groups. taking it day by day, maybe i’ll find myself balking at the > eve of my 26th month here when it is time to leave.
 >
 > send: loose leaf matcha tea, almonds, dr bronners liquid soap and borax! >
 > book: holidays on ice, david sedaris. love him.
 >
 > half the sky, david kristoff. don’t even get me started.
 >
 >
 > 9/4
 >
 > just went to dump out compost on the trash pile. so stinky and embarrasing > for everyone to sort through my-literally-shit. also went to check in on my > garden, which is a no-go, none of my american seeds took to the togo earth. > i wasn’t the most diligent with it, so i left it a few days longer than i > should have…? my first failure. i am embarrassed. i came here to be an > environmental volunteer, and my garden, the simplest thing, failed! >
 > book: mountains beyond mountains, tracy kider. interesting. i am going to > boil my raw milk from now on. tuberculosis doesn’t sound fun. >
 >
 > 9/7
 >
 > sitting on my porch (blue plastic lawn chair on ciment ground), surrounded > by bug carcasses and animal feces. i am sweating because i decided to sweep > out my latrine, which had become so filled with mouse poop i couldn’t walk > through it without getting my toes dirtied. this weekend the volunteers > descended upon my turf, guerin-jouka for the annual yam festival. these > aren’t the normal, orange, potatoes we mix with marshmellows at > thanksgiving, these are foot-long mammonth tubers resembling large elephant > penises. the togolese love them, they boil them and pound them into a mush > which they then take and dip into scant amount of oil “sauces.” so funny, > the taste preferences of the togolese. they are shocked i don’t eat only > yams and corn all day every day, and roll on the floor laughing in > disbelief we don’t eat anything like this in the states without first > slathering it in butter.
 >
 > my grandmother stopped by just now and beckoned me to the community mango > tree. she pointed to a big plastic bag on the ground and told me to look > inside. there, in the sac, was a basilisk, im not kidding. a snake at least > 7 ft long. i screamed and ran off. turns out it was dead and as they > watched me tremble with discomfort. they laughed. the only thing i could > think to do was ask what it’s name was in konkomba and run away as fast as > possible. these snakes live in the rivers HERE, in my neighborhood! where > am i?
 >
 > twenty minutes later, as i was sitting on my porch waiting for my heart to > stop beating, when they came back for me and pointed to a small fire under > the mango tree, where a strange man was holding the tail of a HUGE > five-foot long lizard and roasting it’s head off! they were going to eat > this lizard that afternoon. not quite as dramatic as my snake reaction, but > i was still obviously disgusted. too much.
 >
 > 9/10
 >
 > i’ve made it 3 months! let the two year countdown begin! i heard news > yesterday we are having a third person terminate early and head back home! > africa has changed me in that now my reaction is- who gets their stuff? > furniture? clothes? food? i’ll take it! mouse in pillow again last night. > it’s getting harder and harder to laugh these moments off, as 3 a.m. isn’t > really my peak joke-making hour. nevertheless, there was the most brilliant > full moon i’ve ever seen last night, lighting the whole compound. i didn’t > even need my headlamp to go to the latrine! read the fist harry potter last > night, just as darling as ever, really perked me up! been doing a lot of > cooking, lounging, staring at old laundry and sitting with women and > children in the compound. lots of watching, pointing and repeating basic > words in konkomba, like corn (ikama), rain (utah) farm (kissah) bike > (cheche) also read the girl’s guide to hunting and fishing, alli you would > adore it! i have been gifted so many beignets and loaves of bread and yams. > all my little friends have gathered to watch me write here, i hope i am > setting a good example for them by writing about my struggles living > amongst them. very much missing you all!
 >
 >
 > 9/11
 >
 > say what you want about white people not being able to dance, but really, > africans just know. they just know how to dance. my homolouge just showed > up unannounced with his radio phone and played togo music (reggae steel > drums) for an hourand all the kids flocked over to dance, they literally > are naturals! born with the beat instilled in them. good think i was born a > poor black child because i know how to groove from side to side. my > grandmother even put on a velour head-wrap that had a chanel symbol > embossed on it with silver sequins.very special occasion. they didn’t know > when to stop, so they just keep dancing while i am sitting there just > smiling, smiling, smiling.
 >
 >
 > 9/12
 >
 > hey. hope mrs. paige, tara feeney and declan had super wonderful birthdays. > i spent the entire day in my house putting up a platforn!! was told the man > would “arrive in the morning” which here could mean anywhere between 6 a.m. > and noon. turns out, for this man, morning meant 10:30 a.m. we moved all my > stuff from one side of the hut to the other, so all my books, clothes, > electronics, gas stove, target nonstick skillet, and canned foods were > splayed out on the ground in a huge pile. the entire village then proceeded > to pile into my hut to look at the roof and gawk at my posessions. i felt > extremely uncomfortable, i hate when lisey sits in my room at home and > rifles through my closet of dresses, and this was a whole level of > uncomfortable i had yet to reach. i kept trying to tell them to stay out, > pointing frantically to the steady stream of dust and debris falling from > the ceiling, trying to express it was dangerous for their lungs. these > children who live in burning heaps of plastic. the carpenter was the only > one concerned for my eyes, and asked me to put on my glasses. a smart > assumption, because i do have a pair of focus lenses i was happy to throw > on, they went perfectly with my outfit, and the children were Shocked to > see me looking so smart! the carpenter, who lives in the big city was > appalled i still eat and sleep on the floor, compared to the other homes he > had been to, this home was really pathetic. i only drank one nalgene the > whole day, and by the time the carpenter left, i was dehydrated and had to > drink three bottles of sugar salt solution and ate a great many grilled > yams and corn for dinner. the man put a lock on my door, and in the process > managed to hammer a hole through the wall, so the entire point of a door is > now moot. great. good thing nobody knows the stuff i have in my apartment. > as i fell asleep on the floor without brushing my teeth, i heard the pitter > patter of little mice feet on the platforn roof (not on me!) and i passed > out quickly. it is very, very difficult to lead a similar or familiar life > to the lives we volunteers led in America here in togo. it is impossible to > stay well-connected to family, friends, social media and the news here. it > is a different climate, different cultural standards, different schedule > and these people value different things. transportation, deadlines, basic > healthcare principles and work ethics vary drastically. it takes time to > get used to the changes with life here , but it is an incredible experience > in itself to learn from these people, who need so very, very little to > survive, thrive and be happy. every day passes slowly, every week that > passes is a victory, and there are so many things i want to see and do and > learn here before i head back stateside. i’m taking my malaria meds and > doing my best to keep my infected open wounds clean. trying to sleep > through the night and drink sugar water when i feel l am about to pass out > from dehydration. send me acrylic paint to paint my furniture please! >