one photo from South Africa

I meant to upload pictures yesterday but forgot the camera cable at home. The original title of this post was "Two Photos from South Africa", but then the internet stopped working. Not that exciting, but if I don't post this, I'll just have wasted an hour. Just be happy I resisted the urges to photograph walls of yogurt in the grocery store, fancy furniture display windows and all the food I ate.










The backyard at the Rose Guest House in Pretoria.

Why I'm the Worst Teacher Ever

This month’s update drought comes from distraction, not a lack of electricity or internet.

When I last updated, I was about to start teaching. After a dull New Year’s in village – my fault for failing to seek out the parties – I taught three classes. Then I went to South Africa.

I knew before Christmas that I would have to go sometime in January for certain health expertise unavailable in Togo. I expected more notice. Peace Corps called on a Tuesday afternoon, and by Wednesday evening, my travel buddy (who was actually in physical pain, whereas I was in vacation mode) and I were on a plane from Accra, Ghana to Johannesburg.

I spent exactly a week in Pretoria, living every Peace Corps Togo volunteer’s dream – a painless med-evac to “Africa Lite”. The Peace Corps houses med-evacs in a luxurious guesthouse, and I mean luxurious by American, not Togolese standards. I took hot showers, watched many bad movies on TV, ate granola and yogurt AND an egg dish every morning and swam in the pool twice. Between doctor and hospital visits, we frequented two malls, a flea market, the Peace Corps’ internet and Pretoria’s “White House,” the Union Building. I went to the Botanical Gardens, and I ate almost everything I’ve missed in Togo, except for a cream cheese bagel. Apparently, “cream cheese” in South Africa means something different from American cream cheese. So I had a bagel with melted cheddar. Also tasty.

I believe I actually had more language mishaps speaking English in Pretoria than French in Togo. At the Pick ‘N’ Pay grocery store, I heard the man at the check-out ask me if I wanted a packet (I think he actually said, “Plastic”).

“A what?”

“A packet (or plastic)… gestures at plastic bag. What do you call it?”

“Oh. A bag.”

A few days later, another incident at a different grocery store. I asked an employee at the entrance if there was a toilet. He went outside, and I followed him, expecting him to direct me to another store. He grabbed a shopping cart, went back inside and pushed it through the turnstile. I was still following him, thinking it was kind of rude to decide to clean up and then answer my question. He pointed at the cart.

“You can use that.”

I must have given him a WHAT-are-you-talking-about face.

“You wanted a trolley, no?” Um. No.

After making an idiot of myself all around Pretoria, I headed back to Togo in time for CHAP’s three day Project Development and Management (PDM) seminar. It took place at the Peace Corps Training Center in Pagala. It’s basically a retreat center with bucket showers instead of running water.

I got back to village Friday, went to a prefectural cultural fest in Mango on Saturday, cleaned my filthy house on Sunday and quit teaching on Tuesday. During the three classes I taught, I quickly realized that I can’t teach grammar. Maybe with training I could, but I feel it’s unfair to the students to have me teach instead of the director, who knows what he’s doing and is good at it. I realize it’s also unfair (and pitiful) to agree to teach, and then quit after three rounds, and I feel rotten about it. So I’m going to try out an English club and tutoring instead. Maybe we can have more than three meetings.

After recovering from biking most of November, I spent December in and out of village, accomplishing very little. I had a brief jaunt down to Lome for doctors’ appointments at the beginning of the month, then convinced myself it was silly to start new projects before the New Year. I’m a great volunteer.

About two weeks ago, I had my first running meeting with maybe 10 kids. Six of them started with me at the primary school, and we picked up others along the way. We ran through village on the national highway, and at someone’s yelled request, the students started singing. The song and our two-line formation deteriorated by the end of the 20 minute run. No one showed up last Saturday, so I just ran alone. I’m going to blame the school holiday on the lack of students and hope it’s not because they changed their minds about running on Saturday mornings. They picked the day.

On the 19th, we celebrated the feast of Tabaski (sheep festival) in village. It’s a Muslim holiday commemorating God giving Abraham a sheep to sacrifice in lieu of his son, Isaac. To celebrate, everyone kills and eats sheep.

I was a little nervous about a sheep-slaughtering festival, but it wasn’t too terrible. I only saw three dying sheep and watched my homologue wash his sheep’s intestines and cut up innards. I visited my market lady friends, and in the evening, I participated in dancing. Yes, this means I danced, but mostly I watched. The next day the chief, in the holiday spirit, gave me something in a black plastic bag. I thought it was more rice and cooked meat, because everyone sends each other food on feast days. I got home, eager to eat the rice for lunch. I opened the bag, and it was full of raw meat. I gave it to my neighbors.

On the 23rd, I biked up to Dapaong. I think it’s about 102k, and I’ve biked from Dapaong to village before, but getting here this time was really difficult. There is a long stretch of barely discernible incline leading to the city, and about five kilometers out, I had to stop and walk. This is very frustrating after pushing my bike up real mountains. But I got here, and Amanda said she’d stopped in the same place. She only had a 40k ride from her village.

Christmas passed without all the usual hype, which may be why it didn’t really feel like Christmas. We exchanged small gifts, made lots of food (bread, lots of desserts, pasta salad, chicken, fries, fruit salad, deviled eggs and crazy Scottish baked things by Helen) and ate it at Paul the Lebanese guy’s house. Helen, Amanda and I intended to go to a 9 p.m. mass on Christmas Eve, but we were in pajamas by 7:00. Then Helen said it would last two hours, so we watched Borat instead.

I begin teaching next week when school starts again. I’ll teach third year English three to four times a week. The books I received from the school director provide less guidance than I expected, so I visited the head of school inspection in Dapaong. He’s going to give me a grammar book before I go back to village. I know correct grammar when I hear and see it (usually), but I doubt I could tell you what the present perfect or past progressive is without reference. So I’m a little nervous about trying to teach it with just a student’s book and a course syllabus. Teaching should make for interesting future updates.

I’m trying to get back to village tomorrow, but that would require me to pack my bags, and I’m very lazy. Maybe I’ll get a burst of energy soon.

Happy New Year to all, and celebrate safely.

Merry Christmas

The subject line basically covers everything I want to address. I'm in Dapaong, it doesn't feel like Christmas, and I'm ok with that. However, I hope everyone has a lovely holiday, with or without snow, whatever you prefer.

A more interesting update will follow in the next few days.

Joyeux Noel (wow, I hope I spelled that correctly or my French teachers and my parents will send me mocking emails).

about that trip...

See photos from the Tour de Togo at http://webster.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2022400&l=e376a&id=66700997.

I'm very tired, so please excuse this post. I leave tomorrow for village and want to write a little about our trip - thanks again for all the encouragement and donations.

We biked for 10 days, although Dun and I took a break on Thanksgiving (only biked 17k from Waragni to Pagala). We had an amazing meal - turkey (I didn't have any of that), Stovetop stuffing, devilled eggs, jambalaya, salad, mashed potatoes, steamed veggies and lots of dessert. It's not Thanksgiving unless you eat yourself sick, and I gave myself a REAL Thanksgiving. Then I biked about 75k the next day (happy birthday to me) and had a warm coke. The Pagala folks did sing the birthday song to me on the 22nd, and then Dun and Connor sang it very quietly at 5:30 a.m. on Friday before we hit the road.

On Saturday, we biked from Seregbene to Badou. This was the casualty day (lots of blood, nothing serious, just scary, and the three uninjured bikers managed to bandage up our friend - although I was called the "worst health volunteer ever" - blood makes me nervous), and also the day my right knee decided it was finished with this trip. The day ended with an 8k stretch of paved road down a mountain. Very enjoyable, except the next day we had to go back up the mountain to get to the path to Amlame, Sunday's destination.

Sunday was by far the worst day of the entire trip. After pushing our bikes up 8k of mountain, we had a few little downhill spurts, then more mountain. It was basically mountain all day. At the end of the uphill part, around 2 p.m., we reached Elevagnon (sp?), which was very lovely... until we realized the only way to get there is a 20k path up (or down, in our case) a rotten sand and rock path. So... 20k down, braking the whole way. I felt bad for the people who joined up again after a Thanksgiving break in Sokode, but everyone survived.

Monday we went about 85 or 90k from Amlame to Agou. We had a lovely lunch in Kpalime, then raced to Agou Akoumawou, where Helen and I showered, washed clothes, then let the Peace Corps drive us to Nyogbo. I visited my host family. They were very disappointed that I was only staying about half an hour, but I promised to return. They gave me bananas.

Tuesday was a straight shot to Lome, 105k. By that point, my left knee decided it was finished too, so I rolled in with Ace bandages on both knees. We saw what was probably the best sight of the entire trip during that 105k - a grinning girl holding up a dead bush rat by its head. Sorry, I was going too fast to stop and take a picture.

When we got to Lome (very scary biking amongst the cars and motos), we stopped to have a quick drink, then rode to the beach bar, where the lovely Melissa O'Shaughnessy (Savanes volunteer) had organized lunch for us - sandwich makings, candy bars, little gift bags filled with dried fruit, Gatorade, Doritos... I love Melissa. And that was it. 10 days, over 900k (the national highway route is about 700, we added roughly 200k with our off-roading madness), and at least $5,000 raised for girls' education. Yay.

I'm going to go pack, go to bed and go back to village now. On a bus.

and then there was delicious food

We made it to Lome alive (but maybe in pieces with Ibuprofen and rehydration salt addictions). Longer post with pictures to come, but this is just to announce that we're all alive (one casualty the whole trip).

So far we've had pledges for around $5000 (at least?). Thanks so much!

whose idea was this, anyway?

Ouch.
That, in one word, sums up the last four days. As in, ouch, my crotch has never hurt so much. Ouch, my shoulders tense up after about 20 kilometers and ouch, by the end of the day, my legs are so tired it's hard to get off the bike.

Here is a simple break down of our schedule: wake up around 5. Eat breakfast (bread or oatmeal). Bike. Take short breaks and one longer lunch break (eat more bread). Bike. Arrive at destination. Complain alot. Shower and wash clothes. Eat dinner. Sleep. Repeat until next Tuesday.

Actually, we've decided to take a break on Thanksgiving, since we're biking an average of 85km a day. A little more detail about the trip so far:

Saturday morning, Dun, Amanda and I caught a car to Cinkasse, on the Togo-Burkina Faso border. Took a picture, biked back to Dapaong, gathered bags, volunteers and a second breakfast, then biked to Mango. Total of 105k. Cliff made us delicious curry pasta.

Sunday morning, Cliff rode with us to a river (I don't pay attention to names anymore), where a pirogue shuttled our bikes and then us across (pictures to come later). Then we biked forever on junky sand, gravel and dirt paths through savannahs. Periodically, we passed women going to the field or carrying wood piles on their heads, but for the most part, it was very lonely. Yet every time we stopped for a break, small crowds appeared from somewhere. 85k total.

We spent Sunday night in Guerin-Kouka, at their maison du passage. Yesterday and today were "easyt" days - 55k and 50k, respectively. From Guerin-Kouka to Kabou is about 35k, but the hills are long and numerous, so it felt longer. We took a long break in Kabou and visited the volunteer there, then finished the 20k to Bassar. Amy hosted us in her almost-American house, complete with running water, electricity, a refrigerator and flush toilet. Amy is wonderful.

This morning, after more bread - there are other things to eat here, but I feel safe with bread and shortbread biscuits - we biked from Bassar to Sokode. This ride took us along the edge of a national park (again, it will remain nameless), which only means gorgeous views, not animals. Gorgeous views and hills that make you cry for your mom - or just push your bike for several kilometers. There are skull and crossbones road signs along this road, which should give you an idea of the steepness.

Now we're enjoying our afternoon off in a "big" city. We're leaving the majority of our group here in Sokode for Thanksgiving. Dun and I will continue tomorrow (and will also be the only two who biked the whole country), but others will join up again, or for the first time, in the next few days. If you're still interested in giving anywhere from $5 to support our ride AND girls' education, it's not too late to email me and tell me so.

I have to go find some bananas now, before my entire body goes into a spasm.