We started last week with a crêpe night on Sunday, grace à Linda and Lauren. The crêpes turned out well, but it didn’t come close to a Geneva crêpe night. That might have something to do with location.
We did group presentations on Monday and Tuesday, which included a health carnival for kids, a skit and discussion on HIV/AIDS, and a session on making enriched porridge. All the presentations had great attendance, and aside from some rain, things went well.
Training is basically over. On Thursday, we had our final oral French exam. We’ve had three exams – one as a placement for the classes, one mid-way exam, and this final one to see if we’ve attained an intermediate-mid level. The test administrator asks you questions and they tape record your answers. Now, after eight years of French, I do ok. At the mid exam, I was at the intermediate high level. I will NEVER get anywhere, though, because when I have to speak French under pressure, my level, whatever it really is, drops to dummy. My French teachers can attest to this. I did manage to quite eloquently yell at a taxi driver who tried to overcharge us last week, but I did rotten in that testing room. In any case, it wasn’t so bad that they’ll keep me an extra week. My French is definitely good enough to manage in Africa, and I’m practicing by reading French fashion magazines. That should be very useful in learning how to say, «It’s very important for babies to breast-feed exclusively during their first six months.»
We leave Agou Nyogbo on Wednesday morning for Lome. Swear-in is on Thursday evening, so if you write me, you can start addressing it to PCV Linda Golden, since I’ll finally be an official volunteer. Hopefully I can post some pictures next week. I have lots.
And in other news, I’m thinking about getting a dog to keep me company at post. I’m hesitant, because then I have to find someone to take care of it every time I want to bike to Mango or wherever, so I’ve decided not to actively search for one, but to be open to the possibility of one finding me. So if anyone has dog-training tips to send me (just in case) I might need them.
Next week, updating from Lome... and hopefully the beach.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
worms, candy and rats
Another week down, less than two to go. While classes were a little more interesting this week; certain events also added excitement, or at least created extra fodder for the Peace Corps rumor mill.
Mid-week, my Tchokossi teacher and I arrived at our class and learned that I am now the only Tchokossi student. The business trainee headed to Mango switched posts, which means I no longer have a neighbor 30k away from Sagbiebou. It also means I get private language classes to learn whatever health-related vocabulary I want. For instance, the Tchokossi word for malaria, pongombie, is a combination of “horse” (pongo) and “urine” (mbie). Evidently, malarial urine resembles that of a horse.
I also learned the word for guinea worm, which coincided with the previous day’s technical session on said worm. A word of advice before today’s health session: don’t drink untreated water, because that’s how you get guinea worm – and you don’t want it. The worm injects its eggs into water. If consumed at the correct stage in its wormy life, the worm can live in one’s body from nine to 12 months before announcing its presence. It usually migrates to the feet, arms, or hands and moves to the skin’s surface, forming a painful blister. When the person submerges the infected area in water, the worm pops out to inject its eggs into the water and start the cycle again. The only way to remove the worm is to pull it out by slowly wrapping it around a thin stick. If it breaks, you’ve got a new permanent, but dead, friend.
The good news is that guinea worm has almost been completely eradicated in Togo. The two cases recorded this year came from Ghana. Nonetheless, I hold to my original plan: if I get guinea worm, I’m going home. I probably wouldn’t know I had it until I got home anyway, so it works out.
This week another CHAP trainee left for the US, bringing our training group down to 13 (one girl left after two days in Nyogbo). After the goodbyes, I went home and cheered myself up with my newly arrived dark chocolate M&Ms (thanks, mom! Mail was fabulous this week – Katie and Lori, two thumbs up… still contemplating on whether to share). I also went on a run, joined by my host mom (she lasted five minutes), Felicia/Felicité, my 15 year-old neighbor (she almost made it the whole way) and Koku, another young neighbor (he lasted the entire run and picked up a friend). This gives me hope for a future Sagbiebou running club.
Finally, we did a second home visit this week. My group’s visits were standard – families with no mosquito nets, no latrines, frequent malaria cases. However, one group visited a woman busy grilling mystery meat. In New Orleans, we used to joke about the ratburgers, the mystery meat they served as employee meals at the restaurant. That woman was actually grilling rat for dinner, and there was a second one hanging out in a cage. And people ask why I’m vegetarian.
So those are the week’s best, worst and strangest parts. Thanks, as always, for the emails and letters. If you’re thinking about writing, think about including some pictures. I only brought about 10, and I’m moving to a very empty house very soon and need something to put on the walls.
Oh. And if the postal workers at your post office return three letters you’ve tried to send me with the reason, “West Africa’s not a country”, slap their fingers with a ruler. Then find a different post office.
Mid-week, my Tchokossi teacher and I arrived at our class and learned that I am now the only Tchokossi student. The business trainee headed to Mango switched posts, which means I no longer have a neighbor 30k away from Sagbiebou. It also means I get private language classes to learn whatever health-related vocabulary I want. For instance, the Tchokossi word for malaria, pongombie, is a combination of “horse” (pongo) and “urine” (mbie). Evidently, malarial urine resembles that of a horse.
I also learned the word for guinea worm, which coincided with the previous day’s technical session on said worm. A word of advice before today’s health session: don’t drink untreated water, because that’s how you get guinea worm – and you don’t want it. The worm injects its eggs into water. If consumed at the correct stage in its wormy life, the worm can live in one’s body from nine to 12 months before announcing its presence. It usually migrates to the feet, arms, or hands and moves to the skin’s surface, forming a painful blister. When the person submerges the infected area in water, the worm pops out to inject its eggs into the water and start the cycle again. The only way to remove the worm is to pull it out by slowly wrapping it around a thin stick. If it breaks, you’ve got a new permanent, but dead, friend.
The good news is that guinea worm has almost been completely eradicated in Togo. The two cases recorded this year came from Ghana. Nonetheless, I hold to my original plan: if I get guinea worm, I’m going home. I probably wouldn’t know I had it until I got home anyway, so it works out.
This week another CHAP trainee left for the US, bringing our training group down to 13 (one girl left after two days in Nyogbo). After the goodbyes, I went home and cheered myself up with my newly arrived dark chocolate M&Ms (thanks, mom! Mail was fabulous this week – Katie and Lori, two thumbs up… still contemplating on whether to share). I also went on a run, joined by my host mom (she lasted five minutes), Felicia/Felicité, my 15 year-old neighbor (she almost made it the whole way) and Koku, another young neighbor (he lasted the entire run and picked up a friend). This gives me hope for a future Sagbiebou running club.
Finally, we did a second home visit this week. My group’s visits were standard – families with no mosquito nets, no latrines, frequent malaria cases. However, one group visited a woman busy grilling mystery meat. In New Orleans, we used to joke about the ratburgers, the mystery meat they served as employee meals at the restaurant. That woman was actually grilling rat for dinner, and there was a second one hanging out in a cage. And people ask why I’m vegetarian.
So those are the week’s best, worst and strangest parts. Thanks, as always, for the emails and letters. If you’re thinking about writing, think about including some pictures. I only brought about 10, and I’m moving to a very empty house very soon and need something to put on the walls.
Oh. And if the postal workers at your post office return three letters you’ve tried to send me with the reason, “West Africa’s not a country”, slap their fingers with a ruler. Then find a different post office.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
a short update for a dull week
All I can say about this week is that it passed quickly, but each day felt like an eternity. Two more weeks of training… Technically, i should be in class right now, but someone cleverly negotiated for the whole Saturday off. Since no one fought to have class, we’re actually having a proper weekend.
So in addition to two mind-numbingly dull lectures on health education in the Togolese school system, I had two Tchokossi classes this week. We learned how to count! That sound simple enough; however, there are different ways for counting things and money (and possibly a third way of counting ages, but we haven’t gotten that far yet). I’ve got the basic 1-100 down, but when it comes to franc CFA… we’re talking more math than the French “four-twenty-ten” (that’s 90 for the non-French speakers). In Tchokossi, you count money in units of five, so one is “biye”, which actually means 5 CFA. The number 20 is “dara aburayno,” which means 100 CFA. So if you have a certain amount of money, you divide by five and say that number. Confused? The trouble will start when the bean vendor tells me the price for a bag of black-eyed peas and my notebook’s at my house.
And on a different note, I’m starting a new Google group for friends and family of trainees. I’m giving administrative powers to others, as limited internet access makes monitoring a group extra challenging. To join, visit http://groups.google.com/group/pctogo0709 … someone will eventually add you. The hope with this is to put our training group’s families in touch so they can exchange info on calling cards, travel plans, mailing and whatever other fascinating topics emerge from having a kid in Peace Corps (“So what diseases has Mary had?”).
Finally, on my way to the internet cafe this morning, I bought myself a little snack. The package had a picture of little crackers that you dip in chocolate, so I thought I’d try it. The chocolate was dry and crusty, so I just ate the cracker sticks. Next time when the package says, “Quality Food You Never Taste!” I’ll pay closer attention.
Happy August, folks.
So in addition to two mind-numbingly dull lectures on health education in the Togolese school system, I had two Tchokossi classes this week. We learned how to count! That sound simple enough; however, there are different ways for counting things and money (and possibly a third way of counting ages, but we haven’t gotten that far yet). I’ve got the basic 1-100 down, but when it comes to franc CFA… we’re talking more math than the French “four-twenty-ten” (that’s 90 for the non-French speakers). In Tchokossi, you count money in units of five, so one is “biye”, which actually means 5 CFA. The number 20 is “dara aburayno,” which means 100 CFA. So if you have a certain amount of money, you divide by five and say that number. Confused? The trouble will start when the bean vendor tells me the price for a bag of black-eyed peas and my notebook’s at my house.
And on a different note, I’m starting a new Google group for friends and family of trainees. I’m giving administrative powers to others, as limited internet access makes monitoring a group extra challenging. To join, visit http://groups.google.com/group/pctogo0709 … someone will eventually add you. The hope with this is to put our training group’s families in touch so they can exchange info on calling cards, travel plans, mailing and whatever other fascinating topics emerge from having a kid in Peace Corps (“So what diseases has Mary had?”).
Finally, on my way to the internet cafe this morning, I bought myself a little snack. The package had a picture of little crackers that you dip in chocolate, so I thought I’d try it. The chocolate was dry and crusty, so I just ate the cracker sticks. Next time when the package says, “Quality Food You Never Taste!” I’ll pay closer attention.
Happy August, folks.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
untitled post
So I didn't update last week because after typing up the blog, the power went out. Disgruntled, we left to shop for post visit. I cheered up quickly when Helen said, "That man's naked. There's a naked man running down the street."
And indeed there was. That was our introduction to the crazy man of Kpalimé.
We left for post visit the next day, Saturday. There are four of us in the Savanes region, and I got dropped off first. I had a huge welcome and immediately got a new name from the chief (Awa). The women accompanied me to my house with my counterpart (the volunteer's first point-of-contact in village) and all my junk. Apparently, I got a new bride's welcome, which involves singing and ululating.
After dinner with my counterpart, Saibou, and the presidents and vice-president of two village committees (development and health), I spent my first night in my new home. They put a cot from the dispensary in it for my visit, but it's otherwise unfurnished. There are two rooms (bedroom and kitchen) and a large living room which will also serve as a dining room and guest room. There's no running water or electricity. The shower floor has to be cemented, and they have to build a seat for the latrine. Hopefully that will be done when I get back.
Sagbiebou lies along the national highway (two lanes) at the intersection to Gando, a village 16k towards the Benin border. The village consists largely of mud huts. Mine's not a mud hut. The dispensary opened in February. My counterpart, who's the dispensary nurse and director, and the birth assistant seem to have the most modern houses. When I had dinner at Saibou's on Sunday, we watched TV5 on the generator-run television. The village has great cell phone reception, but that's about it for amenities.
I spent A LOT of time at my house during my four days in Sagbiebou, cleaning my water filter, washing dishes, cooking mediocre and unspiced meals and making candleholders out of cardboard. I also read, took naps, played with different interior decoration ideas and planted a moringa tree that another volunteer brought me.
On Monday, we had a meeting with the chief and local authorities. People seem very interested in doing business, education and farming projects. Judging from the children's swollen bellies and bleached hair and the raw sewage between huts, I'll have enough to do in the realm of health. I'm willing to expand, though.
After the meeting, I sat around at the dispensary. There was a lot of this during my visit as well. The best parts of hanging out there came on Tuesday and Wednesday.
On Tuesday, Saibou and I planned to meet at 8:30 to go to Gando so I could order furniture. We didn't leave until after 10, because Saibou had patients. Then he told me that because the baby born that morning was big, there was some "tearing" and he had to do a little surgery on the mother. I asked if I could watch. So on my third day at post, I watched my counterpart sew up a woman's vagina. He used a little anesthetic, but he definitely sewed where he hadn't injected, because she was clearly in pain.
The next day, Saibou had to go to Dapaong, so I hung out with the rest of the stuff at the dispensary. Wednesdays are vaccination days, so I got to mark what vaccinations we gave on a sheet of paper. Shortly after I started doing that, the birth assistant called me in because a patient went into labor. So I saw my first live birth. I went over and held the woman's hand because she gestured at me. I don't know if that's what she wanted, but it helped me.
I left on Wednesday evening and spent the night in Mango with another trainee. Yesterday we came to Dapoang, our regional capital, where the volunteers (ok, Ben) fed us an amazing meal of salad, tapas, bean burgers and brownies. We're going back to Agou tomorrow for the last three weeks of training. Apparently, those weeks will take forever. Going to post made me realize how much I like my host family, so I'm going to soak up the free food and lovin' while I can.
And indeed there was. That was our introduction to the crazy man of Kpalimé.
We left for post visit the next day, Saturday. There are four of us in the Savanes region, and I got dropped off first. I had a huge welcome and immediately got a new name from the chief (Awa). The women accompanied me to my house with my counterpart (the volunteer's first point-of-contact in village) and all my junk. Apparently, I got a new bride's welcome, which involves singing and ululating.
After dinner with my counterpart, Saibou, and the presidents and vice-president of two village committees (development and health), I spent my first night in my new home. They put a cot from the dispensary in it for my visit, but it's otherwise unfurnished. There are two rooms (bedroom and kitchen) and a large living room which will also serve as a dining room and guest room. There's no running water or electricity. The shower floor has to be cemented, and they have to build a seat for the latrine. Hopefully that will be done when I get back.
Sagbiebou lies along the national highway (two lanes) at the intersection to Gando, a village 16k towards the Benin border. The village consists largely of mud huts. Mine's not a mud hut. The dispensary opened in February. My counterpart, who's the dispensary nurse and director, and the birth assistant seem to have the most modern houses. When I had dinner at Saibou's on Sunday, we watched TV5 on the generator-run television. The village has great cell phone reception, but that's about it for amenities.
I spent A LOT of time at my house during my four days in Sagbiebou, cleaning my water filter, washing dishes, cooking mediocre and unspiced meals and making candleholders out of cardboard. I also read, took naps, played with different interior decoration ideas and planted a moringa tree that another volunteer brought me.
On Monday, we had a meeting with the chief and local authorities. People seem very interested in doing business, education and farming projects. Judging from the children's swollen bellies and bleached hair and the raw sewage between huts, I'll have enough to do in the realm of health. I'm willing to expand, though.
After the meeting, I sat around at the dispensary. There was a lot of this during my visit as well. The best parts of hanging out there came on Tuesday and Wednesday.
On Tuesday, Saibou and I planned to meet at 8:30 to go to Gando so I could order furniture. We didn't leave until after 10, because Saibou had patients. Then he told me that because the baby born that morning was big, there was some "tearing" and he had to do a little surgery on the mother. I asked if I could watch. So on my third day at post, I watched my counterpart sew up a woman's vagina. He used a little anesthetic, but he definitely sewed where he hadn't injected, because she was clearly in pain.
The next day, Saibou had to go to Dapaong, so I hung out with the rest of the stuff at the dispensary. Wednesdays are vaccination days, so I got to mark what vaccinations we gave on a sheet of paper. Shortly after I started doing that, the birth assistant called me in because a patient went into labor. So I saw my first live birth. I went over and held the woman's hand because she gestured at me. I don't know if that's what she wanted, but it helped me.
I left on Wednesday evening and spent the night in Mango with another trainee. Yesterday we came to Dapoang, our regional capital, where the volunteers (ok, Ben) fed us an amazing meal of salad, tapas, bean burgers and brownies. We're going back to Agou tomorrow for the last three weeks of training. Apparently, those weeks will take forever. Going to post made me realize how much I like my host family, so I'm going to soak up the free food and lovin' while I can.
Friday, July 13, 2007
field trip
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.
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.
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)