This Monday, we made soymilk and tofu It was probably the coolest and most useful thing I’ve ever learned to do, besides maybe sheetrock a house. We put lemon grass and sugar in the soymilk, and it was better than any Silk I’ve had.
Today I’m in Bassar, in the Kara region. Our field trip began yesterday. Our first stop was the Red Cross in Atakpame, where the director gave us a brief overview of activities in the region. One of the employees was from the Savannah region and hopefully I’ll get to collaborate on some kind of project with them.
From Atakpame, we drove to Sokodé, where we had lunch and visited a Peace Corps maison du passage. It’s like a hostel for volunteers passing through town. They had lots of books there, so I grabbed one. The book situation seems pretty good for now, at least until I get to post.
In Sokodé, we visited a family planning ngo. They have had 215 girls start birth control since January, which is great for preventing pregnancy, but not necessarily AIDS. Still, it’s impressive.
Today we visited an ngo that works with people living with HIV/AIDS, their children, and children whose parents have died from the virus. This was by far the best visit – even though I was exhausted, thanks to the rooster that crowed non-stop outside our window starting at 3 this morning. We heard about the different programs, some of the children sang for us, and four HIV postive people told us their stories.
The stigma against people living with HIV/AIDS is still a problem here, to the point where families turn children out of the house for disgracing them by getting HIV. One woman said only her mother knows about her status. She’s a hairdresser, and she’s afraid that her customers will find another hairdresser if they find out she’s positive. Unfortunately, she’s probably right.
The other problem is the lack of ARVs (anti-retrovirals, or drugs) in Togo. Previously the Global Fund subsidized drugs for people living with HIV/AIDS, but Togo lost its funding due to human rights violations in the 90s. They continue to fund those who were subsidized, but for those who are newly diagnosed, there may or may not be drugs available. One guy today has gone 15 days without his ARVs. If you have enough money, you can pay for your own, but they come from Lome and are basically unaffordable for most people.
So that’s the situation here. Sorry to be a downer.
Tomorrow we’re visiting a traditional healer, and next Saturday, we leave for post visit. The Ewe (pronounced eh-vay) lessons have been replaced by Tchokossi lessons. When I get to post next week, I’ll be able to ask people their names and tell them I’m from America. I’m sure it’ll be great.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Saturday, July 7, 2007
In case you haven’t realized, I pre-write my entries during the week. Then, while waiting for the internet to load, I type them in Word. Internet here literally gives me a headache. Ok, on to the interesting stuff.
My home for the next two years is Sagbiabou.
Don’t look for it in your Lonely Planet books. You might find it on Google maps, but it’s a tiny dot on our four foot Togo map , so good luck. It’s 30km southwest of Mango in the Savannah region, which is the furthest north. I have two years in the hottest part of Togo ahead. Glad I brought along 36 rolls of film to fry.
What else do I know about Sagbiabou ? It has about 2,000 inhabitants, no electricity , pump and well water and cell phone reception. I’ll get back to you on that after post visit during week seven. I’ll be working with the staff at the dispensary, hopefully creating fabulous health education plans. I believe there’s a middle school five or six kilometers away, and I’d really like to work with youth and women.
My closest CHAP neighbor will be in Dapaong. If you visit, you should look into flying into Burkina Faso’s capital, Ouagadougou. Apparently it’s cheaper, and it’s just about as close to Sagbiabou as Lome is.
So we wished the week away anticipating our post assignments, and the Fourth of July holiday helped the time pass. That morning, 12 of us hiked Mout Agou in five hours. We didn’t make it to the official peak because the guards demanded 2000 CFA ($2) from the group to pass their little rope road block. The top was just around the corner, and we decided to keep our money and go back down.
In the afternoon, we had a party at our Tech House. I made pasta salad with another trainee and others brought guacamole, brownies, fried tofu with hot sauce (bought from a toothless old man on the street – he’s cute, not sketchy), cornbread, french fries and fried chicken that was alive that morning. I thought it went well, for a Fourth of July celebration abroad.
Our technical classes became more interesting this week, which also sped up Friday’s arrival. On Tuesday, we weighed babies, Thursday we did home visits and yesterday, we gave short presentations (causeries) to a small group of random Togolese.
Most of the babies screamed and fought – who wants to hang from a scale in plastic underwear in front of mom and 14 white girls anyway ? – and the home visits were awkward. We broke into small groups and popped into homes to ask questions about children’s vaccinations, mosquito nets, water sources and waste disposal. It was practice, just as the causeries were, but it was still awkward. I expect it will be even more awkward at post when there are no other Americans to help ease tension with jokes. Then again, I won’t be reading questions off a sheet of paper.
Next week, we’re going on a three day field trip. More on that next time. Still waiting for letters.
My home for the next two years is Sagbiabou.
Don’t look for it in your Lonely Planet books. You might find it on Google maps, but it’s a tiny dot on our four foot Togo map , so good luck. It’s 30km southwest of Mango in the Savannah region, which is the furthest north. I have two years in the hottest part of Togo ahead. Glad I brought along 36 rolls of film to fry.
What else do I know about Sagbiabou ? It has about 2,000 inhabitants, no electricity , pump and well water and cell phone reception. I’ll get back to you on that after post visit during week seven. I’ll be working with the staff at the dispensary, hopefully creating fabulous health education plans. I believe there’s a middle school five or six kilometers away, and I’d really like to work with youth and women.
My closest CHAP neighbor will be in Dapaong. If you visit, you should look into flying into Burkina Faso’s capital, Ouagadougou. Apparently it’s cheaper, and it’s just about as close to Sagbiabou as Lome is.
So we wished the week away anticipating our post assignments, and the Fourth of July holiday helped the time pass. That morning, 12 of us hiked Mout Agou in five hours. We didn’t make it to the official peak because the guards demanded 2000 CFA ($2) from the group to pass their little rope road block. The top was just around the corner, and we decided to keep our money and go back down.
In the afternoon, we had a party at our Tech House. I made pasta salad with another trainee and others brought guacamole, brownies, fried tofu with hot sauce (bought from a toothless old man on the street – he’s cute, not sketchy), cornbread, french fries and fried chicken that was alive that morning. I thought it went well, for a Fourth of July celebration abroad.
Our technical classes became more interesting this week, which also sped up Friday’s arrival. On Tuesday, we weighed babies, Thursday we did home visits and yesterday, we gave short presentations (causeries) to a small group of random Togolese.
Most of the babies screamed and fought – who wants to hang from a scale in plastic underwear in front of mom and 14 white girls anyway ? – and the home visits were awkward. We broke into small groups and popped into homes to ask questions about children’s vaccinations, mosquito nets, water sources and waste disposal. It was practice, just as the causeries were, but it was still awkward. I expect it will be even more awkward at post when there are no other Americans to help ease tension with jokes. Then again, I won’t be reading questions off a sheet of paper.
Next week, we’re going on a three day field trip. More on that next time. Still waiting for letters.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Lessons
Before I go off on my weekly whatsit, let me advertise someone else’s exciting adventure. Four Webster friends are walking across the US as part of a senior overview project. Check out their story at www.stinkyfeetpictures.com.
Last Friday, my French class – a total of three students – started Ewe lessons. Ewe, one of many local languages, is what everyone in Agou Nyogbo speaks when they’re not accommodating the yovos. My host father told me Germans often find Ewe comparable to German and transition easily.
I speak German. I feel like I’m learning Chinese-Klingon. I have yet to move beyond, “My name is Linda. What is your name? How are you? How are your children? Morning. Teacher. Student. Mid-day. Evening. Driver. Nurse. Doctor. Come eat. Come wash.”
No matter what phrases I learn and practice, I rarely understand what my family and neighbors say to me when they greet me or send me off. “Yoh” is a common response and precedent to an actual response, so I usually just say, “Yoh?” and hope that it’s right.
The Ewe lessons may end if my post is up north. While people speak Ewe throughout the country, our village may use another one of the 40 languages (Peace Corps teaches nine of those). On Thursday, our program director gave us the 14 post descriptions. It was the most exciting event of the week, besides jiujitsu.
On Wednesday, we had the afternoon off for “private studies”. My private studies meant my first jiujitsu lesson with three other trainees and four Togolese guys. Jiujitsu, which means “gentle” is a martial art that our coach, a self-described “peanut”, has studied for 12 years. Before joining Peace Corps, she taught in Brazil. She’s teaching us very basic self-defense.
While the girls practiced moves on each other, she would help the Togolese guys. They let her demonstrate maneuvers on them, an she can flip a dude like a pancake. I think after a few more lessons, I will at least be able to incapacitate an attacker long enough to run away. Hopefully that will never occur and I can just continue enjoying the lessons, which involve lots of rolling around in the grass.
As for post, about six or seven sites sound promising to me. After some reflection, I realize I’m open to going anywhere. Electricity, running water, cell phone reception – I didn’t really come here for all that. It would be great to have regular access (once a week) to internet and phone, and that’s possible from all the sites. So I guess I’ll survive even if I get sent to Tado, the most feared site on the list. We find out next where we’ll be. Besides our Fourth of July picnic, that will probably the event of the week.
Send letters, please. I promise to reply to anyone who writes. Also, if you send anything besides letters, try to fit it into a padded envelope. I hear that makes the journey smoother, faster and less expensive.
The address, again, is:
PCT Linda Golden
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 3194
Lome, Togo
West Africa
I'm waiting...
Last Friday, my French class – a total of three students – started Ewe lessons. Ewe, one of many local languages, is what everyone in Agou Nyogbo speaks when they’re not accommodating the yovos. My host father told me Germans often find Ewe comparable to German and transition easily.
I speak German. I feel like I’m learning Chinese-Klingon. I have yet to move beyond, “My name is Linda. What is your name? How are you? How are your children? Morning. Teacher. Student. Mid-day. Evening. Driver. Nurse. Doctor. Come eat. Come wash.”
No matter what phrases I learn and practice, I rarely understand what my family and neighbors say to me when they greet me or send me off. “Yoh” is a common response and precedent to an actual response, so I usually just say, “Yoh?” and hope that it’s right.
The Ewe lessons may end if my post is up north. While people speak Ewe throughout the country, our village may use another one of the 40 languages (Peace Corps teaches nine of those). On Thursday, our program director gave us the 14 post descriptions. It was the most exciting event of the week, besides jiujitsu.
On Wednesday, we had the afternoon off for “private studies”. My private studies meant my first jiujitsu lesson with three other trainees and four Togolese guys. Jiujitsu, which means “gentle” is a martial art that our coach, a self-described “peanut”, has studied for 12 years. Before joining Peace Corps, she taught in Brazil. She’s teaching us very basic self-defense.
While the girls practiced moves on each other, she would help the Togolese guys. They let her demonstrate maneuvers on them, an she can flip a dude like a pancake. I think after a few more lessons, I will at least be able to incapacitate an attacker long enough to run away. Hopefully that will never occur and I can just continue enjoying the lessons, which involve lots of rolling around in the grass.
As for post, about six or seven sites sound promising to me. After some reflection, I realize I’m open to going anywhere. Electricity, running water, cell phone reception – I didn’t really come here for all that. It would be great to have regular access (once a week) to internet and phone, and that’s possible from all the sites. So I guess I’ll survive even if I get sent to Tado, the most feared site on the list. We find out next where we’ll be. Besides our Fourth of July picnic, that will probably the event of the week.
Send letters, please. I promise to reply to anyone who writes. Also, if you send anything besides letters, try to fit it into a padded envelope. I hear that makes the journey smoother, faster and less expensive.
The address, again, is:
PCT Linda Golden
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 3194
Lome, Togo
West Africa
I'm waiting...
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Dining in Agou
We’ve been in our training village, Aguou Nyogbo, for 10 days. Last Wednesday, the chief, elders and our host families welcomed us with music and speeches.
Since then, we’ve had language, technical and bike classes. We visited a market, annoying the sellers with questions on prices. We wandered around Kpalimé, the nearest city, after tearful breakdowns in internet cafes. On Sunday, eight of us hiked up Mount Agou with various “family” members. We visited a local state hospital. Yesterday, we learned how to make our own compost piles.
However, in spite of new families, a new climate that nurtures latrine-loving lizards, roaches and buzzing, winged creatures (I have a shower and a flush toilet. Total high-life), food remains tied with bowel movements as the conversation topic. Since one is not really polite or interesting conversation for non-volunteers, we’ll talk about food.
First off – I’m still vegetarian. After our first family meal, minus my five year-old brother, George, I announced that I don’t like meat, but I eat fish. For the next three nights, I had fish in every dinner. I meant that I like the occasional salmon, tilapia or flounder – not smoked fish every day.
The fish streak ended pâte night. Pâte means both pasta and a doughy, corn-based starch eaten with sauce. You use the pâte to scoop up the sauce. My mom’s sauce of choice is fish sauce made from greens called gboma, similar to collard greens. The gboma gives the sauce a brown, mucus consistency. Add the fish and voila! yuck. I ate it, but the next morning I told my mom no more fish sauce.
For breakfast, I had omelette two days in a row. To my host mom, omelette means semi-scrambled eggs garnished with raw tomato slices and large pieces of raw onion.
“Pas de omelette tomorrow, s’il vous plait»
In the last week, the breakfast spread expanded to bread, jam, margarine, homemade peanut butter and La vache qui rit cheese. I also have a bunch of bananas that I race to eat before they brown completely. I eat a lot of bananas.
At every meal, my host mom asks what I want to eat for the next meal (burritos, guac and a margarita). Since I don’t know her meal repertoire, I go off what I’ve eaten the last week. So again, lots of repeats. But aside from the trying to come up with meal ideas, I’m doing ok on the food thing. I’ve had no scares. One volunteer’s family gave him corn-based porridge for breakfast. They told him it was maize, which sounds like “mice”. He said, “No, thanks.”
We have avocados. That was really my biggest concern. I recently had a mango that completely reversed my stance on mangos. It was amazing.
And, on that note, I leave you with a wish list:
1.Chocolate candy (Ashley received Reeses in the mail and they were mostly unmelted).
2.Vitamins
3.EmergenC
4.35 mm negative holders
5.razors with soap in them
6.Secret gel deodorant. I don’t care what scent.
7.A 3 lb. tent (mom and dad? Birthday present?)
Since then, we’ve had language, technical and bike classes. We visited a market, annoying the sellers with questions on prices. We wandered around Kpalimé, the nearest city, after tearful breakdowns in internet cafes. On Sunday, eight of us hiked up Mount Agou with various “family” members. We visited a local state hospital. Yesterday, we learned how to make our own compost piles.
However, in spite of new families, a new climate that nurtures latrine-loving lizards, roaches and buzzing, winged creatures (I have a shower and a flush toilet. Total high-life), food remains tied with bowel movements as the conversation topic. Since one is not really polite or interesting conversation for non-volunteers, we’ll talk about food.
First off – I’m still vegetarian. After our first family meal, minus my five year-old brother, George, I announced that I don’t like meat, but I eat fish. For the next three nights, I had fish in every dinner. I meant that I like the occasional salmon, tilapia or flounder – not smoked fish every day.
The fish streak ended pâte night. Pâte means both pasta and a doughy, corn-based starch eaten with sauce. You use the pâte to scoop up the sauce. My mom’s sauce of choice is fish sauce made from greens called gboma, similar to collard greens. The gboma gives the sauce a brown, mucus consistency. Add the fish and voila! yuck. I ate it, but the next morning I told my mom no more fish sauce.
For breakfast, I had omelette two days in a row. To my host mom, omelette means semi-scrambled eggs garnished with raw tomato slices and large pieces of raw onion.
“Pas de omelette tomorrow, s’il vous plait»
In the last week, the breakfast spread expanded to bread, jam, margarine, homemade peanut butter and La vache qui rit cheese. I also have a bunch of bananas that I race to eat before they brown completely. I eat a lot of bananas.
At every meal, my host mom asks what I want to eat for the next meal (burritos, guac and a margarita). Since I don’t know her meal repertoire, I go off what I’ve eaten the last week. So again, lots of repeats. But aside from the trying to come up with meal ideas, I’m doing ok on the food thing. I’ve had no scares. One volunteer’s family gave him corn-based porridge for breakfast. They told him it was maize, which sounds like “mice”. He said, “No, thanks.”
We have avocados. That was really my biggest concern. I recently had a mango that completely reversed my stance on mangos. It was amazing.
And, on that note, I leave you with a wish list:
1.Chocolate candy (Ashley received Reeses in the mail and they were mostly unmelted).
2.Vitamins
3.EmergenC
4.35 mm negative holders
5.razors with soap in them
6.Secret gel deodorant. I don’t care what scent.
7.A 3 lb. tent (mom and dad? Birthday present?)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Togocell
Very briefly - bought a cell phone today. Number is 927 1088. To call from the States, enter that number after dialing 001 228 number.
We leave for stage (pre-service training in French, really internship) in Agou Nyogbo tomorrow. Cell phone reception is "unstable" there, and there's no net access, so you may not hear from me for a while.
Thanks to all who have been reading and emailing - it's great to hear from you all. This is the worst keyboard of my life.
We leave for stage (pre-service training in French, really internship) in Agou Nyogbo tomorrow. Cell phone reception is "unstable" there, and there's no net access, so you may not hear from me for a while.
Thanks to all who have been reading and emailing - it's great to hear from you all. This is the worst keyboard of my life.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
First Togolese blog in my first Togolese internet cafe, where the keyboards are an even greater challenge than those in Switzerland. I can't even type my name properly.
So, despite our hour wait on the runway at Dulles, we made our connecting flight in Paris. They held the plane for us AND all but one of our bags arrived. I hope to eventually post some pictures, but I think I'll wait to attempt that later in my stay.
I need someone to write me the ending of the film Zodiac, because I watched it on the plane, but an announcement interrupted it right when Jake Gyllenhall runs out of the creepy film guy's house. Any takers?
Our delay meant we arrived in Togo just before sunset, which is at six. The Peace Corps took care of all our arrival needs: all we had to do was sit in a room and wait, hand over our passports, and get our bags.
My final days in the US were full of lasts. Last hot US shower, last pizza, last Ben and Jerry's, last phone calls. Now I get to have firsts: first sightings of people carrying huge packages on their heads, first Togolese beer, first Togolese meal, first night in a bed with mosquito netting (I always wanted a canopy, and now I almost have to have one).
We're staying at a hostel in the capital, near the Peace Corps office. After dinner and some official business, current volunteers walked us to a bar, where there were more volunteers waiting for us. It was all a little overwhelming, especially the walk on completly dark streets. We really do need flashlights.
Today we got more shots, got a talk on safety and security and took a language "test". That was just a conversation with a PC staff member. We also chose our bikes and helmets.
I'm sure there's more I wanted to say, but my time's almost up. I may have said this already, but if your inbox is tired of updates, please unsubscribe yourself from the Google group.
I'm going to start reading "On Writing Well" so these updates suck less.
So, despite our hour wait on the runway at Dulles, we made our connecting flight in Paris. They held the plane for us AND all but one of our bags arrived. I hope to eventually post some pictures, but I think I'll wait to attempt that later in my stay.
I need someone to write me the ending of the film Zodiac, because I watched it on the plane, but an announcement interrupted it right when Jake Gyllenhall runs out of the creepy film guy's house. Any takers?
Our delay meant we arrived in Togo just before sunset, which is at six. The Peace Corps took care of all our arrival needs: all we had to do was sit in a room and wait, hand over our passports, and get our bags.
My final days in the US were full of lasts. Last hot US shower, last pizza, last Ben and Jerry's, last phone calls. Now I get to have firsts: first sightings of people carrying huge packages on their heads, first Togolese beer, first Togolese meal, first night in a bed with mosquito netting (I always wanted a canopy, and now I almost have to have one).
We're staying at a hostel in the capital, near the Peace Corps office. After dinner and some official business, current volunteers walked us to a bar, where there were more volunteers waiting for us. It was all a little overwhelming, especially the walk on completly dark streets. We really do need flashlights.
Today we got more shots, got a talk on safety and security and took a language "test". That was just a conversation with a PC staff member. We also chose our bikes and helmets.
I'm sure there's more I wanted to say, but my time's almost up. I may have said this already, but if your inbox is tired of updates, please unsubscribe yourself from the Google group.
I'm going to start reading "On Writing Well" so these updates suck less.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
One last day in the USA
I apologize for that rhyme, but not so much that I'm going to change it.
Staging, as I suspected, was somewhat like freshman orientation, with everyone a little overwhelmed and excited. As soon as I walked into the hotel lobby, two other volunteers grabbed me (the luggage is a dead give away). We went to lunch with one more girl, and talking about all our anxieties helped get me out of the I Just Said Goodbye to My Family mode. The whole staging event reinvigorated my enthusiasm about my service. I didn't even cry today!
Out of our group of 35, 20 will work with SED, or small enterprise development. There are 15 community health and AIDS prevention (CHAP) volunteers, including myself. There are 6 men, and 29 women. All the CHAP volunteers are women. And that's pretty cool.
This morning, I went for a lovely run in our nation's wonderful capital. The fact that my knee gave me almost no trouble made the run extra lovely. And my next run will be in Togo. I can't wait.
We start tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., with a fun trip to the clinic for vaccinations. Our flight doesn't leave until 10 p.m., but we're going to the airport at 3. I suspect that five to six hours in the aiport will be enough time for me to finish reading the Togo section of my West Africa guidebook. Or else, I can get well-acquainted with Dulles.
One last note on packages - I heard that anything weighing over five pounds will cost me about $20 to retrieve from the Togolese postal workers. More on that if I ever get my $43 package of books.
Staging, as I suspected, was somewhat like freshman orientation, with everyone a little overwhelmed and excited. As soon as I walked into the hotel lobby, two other volunteers grabbed me (the luggage is a dead give away). We went to lunch with one more girl, and talking about all our anxieties helped get me out of the I Just Said Goodbye to My Family mode. The whole staging event reinvigorated my enthusiasm about my service. I didn't even cry today!
Out of our group of 35, 20 will work with SED, or small enterprise development. There are 15 community health and AIDS prevention (CHAP) volunteers, including myself. There are 6 men, and 29 women. All the CHAP volunteers are women. And that's pretty cool.
This morning, I went for a lovely run in our nation's wonderful capital. The fact that my knee gave me almost no trouble made the run extra lovely. And my next run will be in Togo. I can't wait.
We start tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., with a fun trip to the clinic for vaccinations. Our flight doesn't leave until 10 p.m., but we're going to the airport at 3. I suspect that five to six hours in the aiport will be enough time for me to finish reading the Togo section of my West Africa guidebook. Or else, I can get well-acquainted with Dulles.
One last note on packages - I heard that anything weighing over five pounds will cost me about $20 to retrieve from the Togolese postal workers. More on that if I ever get my $43 package of books.
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