airport thoughts

Im sitting in the Detroit airport thinking about last week in Togo to stave off the eminent culture shock.

wait, first, two quick questions.  1. shorts? i dont get them.  2. why the hell do Americans always have to be cold?  seriously, no where does it say in the Constitution that a constant temperature of 68 degrees is an unalienable right.  end rant.

The following is a 3 part story.  The context is this anti-Malaria Bednet usage survey that we've been doing.

1. Last Thursday Richard and I went out to one of our assigned villages to do our survey.  Once we got there though, the chef told us that everyone was at marche in Namon.  Because the village is so far out thats the only marche people can get to, so the chef told us he couldnt tell people to stay home.  So Richard and I went to Namon and did the marche with Abby.  In a tchouk stand at some point in the afternoon, Abby and I were talking and she brought up the point that Togolese don't mess with baby names, or even really get excited about babies because there is a decent chance that the child wont make it. 

2.  One of the questions on the survey asks how many people of certain age groups sleep in a household.  That was the hardest question of the survey.  Many people had a hard time remembering which kids, ages 5-15 had slept in their household the night before.  I couldnt figure out why people had a such a hard time remembering kids.

3. Saturday, i heard that one of my friends had a death in his family the night before.  I was looking for Biliki anyway to talk to him about a project. so when i heard about the funeral, Muwaku and i went to his house to saluer him.  We get there and find out that his brother's eight year old son had died the day before from "a lack of blood," i.e. probably something to do with malaria.  Biliki invited me over to sit with the elders and other men.  When an old person dies, the funeral lasts almost a week and includes lots of dancing, drinking, and partying.  When a child dies, the men hang out under a tree and drink, and the women of the family hang out in the compound.  No dancing, partying, etc.  A pre-adolescent child isnt seen as a full "person" yet. 
Anyway, when it was time to leave, Biliki suggested we go saluer his brother.  So we went in his house.  The brother handed me a picture of a his child.  And almost broke down.  I've never seen a Togolese man that griefstricken before.  He was on the verge of crying.  It had been his first son.  I was painfully aware of how pitifully inadequate every condolence I know sounded. There was nothing I could say.

I know Ive blogged about this before, but infant/child mortality, and how societies have adapted to that, is something I still have a hard time wrapping my head around. Western society celebrates births because the child, in all likelihood will eventually become an adult.  This isnt something that should be taken for granted, but it is. 

Something else I dont understand.  Why does everything have to be automated?  I was in the airport bathroom trying to wash my hands in scalding automated water while the automated soap dispenser squirted soap everywhere like some demented frosting machine. Then the automated paper towel machine delivered me a square of paper large enough to dry 3 fingers.  I was so convenienced it was overwhelming.

American airlines need to take notes on how to treat their passengers from their European counterparts.  Seriously, a bit of style and class goes a Long way.

Something happened to me in Accra that has Never happened before.  When D and I got to the Accra airport (we flew out of Ghana instead of Togo), she developed selective observational skills in reference to the no-smoking sign in front of the airport and lit up.  Some valet told her she needed to move down or she'd get fined, so she left while I watched our bags.  2 minutes later a security guard comes up and asks me if I'd been smoking, and then grills me on whats going on.  Then he asks me if I smoke again, "no" (then). "Are you sure? Do you drink?"  "sometimes." he laughed and left.  D came back and we went into the airport.  We walked past the guard and he was like "I'm sorry about the smoking thing, I was just doing my job.  Please come back to Ghana, it is great here."  First time EVER an airport security guard has apologized to me.  I almost fainted.  

peanuts

I've probably ate my body weight in peanuts in the past week. Seriously.  The pad of my right thumb is permanently numb. My new favorite thing to do is to buy 100 cfa worth when i get in a car and munch on them.  it helps pass the time.

i got home from Kara Tuesday and my house was empty.  Kittens and Nighan were gone.  Petit said they'd been gone for three days after a bonfire/party outside my house (the 'people of god' had been celebrating something). Petit had circulated through the neighborhood looking for them.  Nighan had made a couple appearances, but no one had seen kittens.  I was upset. My family was upset too.  Like 3 other people came over to saluate me and said that, now that I was back, the kittens would come home.

Nighan showed up at like 1800 and yowled a lot.

2130 or so I was sitting on my porch when I heard meowing outside my compound.  Then one kitten ran into my house.  Then another found its way in through the drain hole in my wall. . . . then the other 2.  My neighbors regarded it as a minor miracle the next day, or were like 'told you so.'

So, Saturday i left to bring 2 kittens to Bassar.  Saye is taking one and babysitting the other while i am away. When richard got there, i put them in a box, duct taped it up and we left . . .  2 minutes later 5 kids were chasing a kitten through the bushes.  petit and richard were like 'here in Togo, we carry cats in a sack.  here you go.'
 We left kouka about 1700, plenty of time to get to Bassar before it got dark. we were about 30 minutes down the road when i looked up and saw these bands of dark clouds oozing their way across the sky.  ****!
 We made it to Janet's (a homologue) house just as the rain hit.  It was one of those steady rains that fluctuates in intensity but never freakin stops.  About 1830, Richard was like, 'lets just go' because it was almost dark and we didnt have much choice in the matter.
So we put our phones in plastic bags and took off. i had the kittens in the crook of my arm. 
The road was saturated.  like, there was a slimy layer of mud on top of a gooey layer of mud on top of a squishy layer of mud. the rear end of the moto was like a piranha's butt in a feeding frenzy.  we went through some puddles, if you use the term loosely, that came past my ankles-- when i had my feet on the footpegs.
then it got dark and Richard couldn't really see the firmer parts of the road anymore. 
eventually we started slaloming between two ruts, the rear wheel kicked around, and we were on the road.  somehow neither of us wound up under the moto.  i landed mostly on my feet.  once we got the moto up and going again i realized that i hadnt go of the kittens the whole time. 
we lost control a couple more times, but we didnt go over.
Anyway, as we went along, it got darker, the road got worse, and it kept raining.  outside of manga there was a firm strip of road that was about 40 centimeters across. the rest of it was goo. 
the only other experience ive had like that is in a rear-wheel drive sports car in an ice storm. my world was moto engine, dim headlight, raindrops, and muddy darkness. 
ive never been so glad to see asphalt in my life as i was when we got to kabou.  my back was burning from the tension.  we were soaked. one of the kittens bit me through the sack.
the rest of the trip was relatively ok.  the rain stopped as we went south to bassar.  mist was doing weird things over the road.  richard's moto waited until we go to bassar itself to start refusing.  i just got another zed out to D's house.  it was on of the only times in Togo that ive been cold enough to shiver.

speaking of rain, its been weird this year.  or different from last year rather.  there have been mornings when i wake up to a long soaking drizzle.  then it gets hot like it usually does, then it rains again for like 3 hours in the evening.  last year there was a thunderstorm every other day.  this year its been raining almost every day, sometimes multiple times. petit says the peanut harvest wont be good because of all the rain.  he sounds just like my father.

we had a round of friendly matches between the girls football teams from manga, kouka, and nampoch.  my team got there late (long story), so we played kouka second.  still lost 2-0.  my coach says its because the nampoch girls are shy when they come in to kouka so they don't play well.  i can see that, although im pretty sure nampoch would have one if the game was scored by bruises dealt.

in the north, most peanuts are prepared either by steam, or by shaking them with hot coals.  i prefer steamed so i dont get charcoal all over me.  in the south, they sometimes roast peanuts in hot sand.  the problem with that is that it makes the peanuts gritty. 

one has to be careful when eating peanuts; you cant just automatically shell them and pop them in your mouth.  some of them are bad, some have started to sprout, and some house little steamed millipedes.

i got some cherry poptarts the other day.  wow.  thats all i have to say about that.

for the fourth of july (which i forgot about until Bry mentioned it at our football game), me, Bry, and Jenn roasted hotdogs over a charcoal stove.  We dressed them up and shared them with Kader and his family.  They weren't very impressed, except for Mamanatou, she came back for thirds.  But they were amazing.  then it started raining and i had to spend the night in kouka.

 I am getting really good at identifying snake killings.  I walked out of D's compound the other day and saw a bunch of workmen with big sticks standing around a pile of concrete block.  One of them was pounding a long stick into one of the block. there is one less cobra in the world now.  i guess its a good thing that it was a cool morning because the snake seemed pretty lethargic.  i poked around it after it mostly stopped twitching.  freaking long fangs.  i still cant get used to the fact that i probably walk by snakes like that every day, like i did that one. 

Sarakawa

Richard brought me back from our conference in Kara last Tuesday.   Since we were on his moto, we came back the northern way.  This route passes through the village of Sarakawa.  January 24, 1974, the father of Togo's current president, President Gnassingbe Eyadema, was flying to his ancestral home in his C-47 when it crashed near Sarakawa.  The plane apparently broke into 2 pieces on impact. Eyadema emerged alive from the wreckage of the rear section while most of his entourage was killed (wikipedia and Richard differ as to how many others walked away).  The crash, and his miraculous survival, played a major role in the construction of the mythology surrounding Eyadema, and in the development of his personality cult that was partially responsible for the duration of his rule in Togo.
Anyway, I've always wanted to see this place, so Richard and I stopped by.  I wish I'd had my camera.  The rear section of the plane, basically the tail section, a couple engines, and one wing, was left as-is-- a crumpled pile of wreckage in a field. A concrete courtyard was poured around it, and a circular ceremonial reviewing hall that looks like a mausoleum was built around that. You can walk through the wreckage, spin the tail wheel, flick the propellers, run your hand along the wing, rap on the fuselage, if you want. Its kind of amazing that anyone walked away the wreck.  Richard, hat in hand the whole time, told me that Eyadema climbed out and ordered his rescuers to take him straight home.  The front half of the plane is still piled in a field. 

It was pretty cool to see.  Although we um, angered the 2 soldiers guarding it because we didn't . . . pass by their outpost behind the place and just walked in. The photo on wikipedia is worthless.

Then, back on the road, we went by the natural preserve in Sarakawa and saw zebras.  That was cool too.

something under my bed is growling

I am sick of traveling.

Two weeks ago, I was in Pagala as a trainer for the 2010 stage's Mid Service Conference.  Last week I was in Tsevie designing the syllabus for the incoming EAFS stage.  This week I am in Kara learning how to do this country-wide bed net survey.

Coming up from Tsevie was interesting.  We were about 15k out of Tsevie going north when the traffic stopped.  We got out and walked up to see what the problem was.  A Voltic (bottled water) truck went off a bridge and a crane truck was trying to pull it out.  The problem was that the crane was blocking the bridge. Of the only north-south paved road in Togo.  They moved the crane eventually so we could get by.

Being back in Tsevie was seriously weird.  Being back in Gbatope was weirder.  I hadn't been back since I swore in.  The place has changed a lot.  New marche.  Electricity.  The road still sucks and there was an accident on death curve.  Blood all over the road.  One guy's knee looked destroyed.  There were three charcoal circles on the road, so who knows what that means . . .

Anyway.  I saw a lot of my language teachers from stage.  Aisha gave me a big hug.  She's responsible for most of the french that I know.  I went with Alex one night to eat with my (our) host family during stage.  My host mamma about tackled me.  Daniel 2 knows enough french to talk to me now.  It only took me 4 hours in the bush taxi ride down to remember their family name.  ah well.  It was nice seeing people again.  Being in Gbatope and knowing enough french to figure out what is going on is a bizarre feeling.

Then it rained and Tsevie turned into a swamp.  And I wanted to go home back up north.

The thing growling under my bed was a kitten eating a small bat.

 Its finally happened.  Technology has passed me by.  What the hell is an "ultrabook"?  I was looking at laptops online last night (found a place with fast wifi in Kara) and I ran across them. 

 All of this traveling and stuff is stressful.  I like being in village. Its (mostly) peaceful there.  If I'm gone for a week, my garden goes to hell.  My house gets dirty.  I can't keep tabs on projects in village (i dont even want to know about the status of our rabbit project) and i feel generally out of touch with everything.  Is N'Tido going to CPN to keep tabs on her pregnancy?  Are the girls practicing football during the vacation?  Etc etc.

It doesnt help that i think im developing insomnia

fast wifi and hot showers are things of beauty.  A/C is a siren.  it sounds cool (haha pun!), but it screws you up in the end.

i promise this is the last blog post with a kitten reference in the title for awhile  

Togolese Health Care, or, A Very Long Post

I spent a lot of time this week in the Togolese healthcare system.  Most of this was intentional. 

Like Ive said ad nauseum, one of the things I like about Peace Corps is the fact that I don’t know whats going on happen on any given day.  Last Monday was no exception . . .

I think I mentioned that N’tido is pregnant.  I took her into the Kouka hospital last Monday to get her blood work done.  To get there, I called my friend Richard, he’s a zedman, to come get us.

We got to Kouka, and I realized that I actually had no clue what was going on in the hospital, luckily Richard did.  He parked his moto and led the way in like he owned the place.  This was kind of funny given his penchant for wearing big floppy hats.  Richard knew the sage femme (midwife—actually the title of the nurse who runs the maternal care ward).  She got N’tido set up with all the tests that she needed right away.  Richard took us to the laboratory, helped me pay, etc.  It occurred to me that while he was helping us in the hospital, he wasn’t taking clients anywhere.

Since we had to wait until after repos for the results, I took N’tido out to lunch at Kouka’s only cafeteria.  I’m pretty sure it might have been the first time she’d been somewhere where you sit down and people bring you food.  I discovered that I can definitely use a fork better than her.  And I can drink pop out of a bottle. These, plus typing, are probably the only things I can do better than she can.  Anyway, it was interesting.  N’tido spent most of the day being overwhelmed by everything I think. 

We went back to the hospital after repos. And had to wait for the lab to finish N’tido’s blood work.  When it was done, we took her health booklet with the results to the sage femme.  Turns out N’tido is B neg.  Until Monday, I had no idea that this is a problem for women who want to have babies.  

Anyway, N’tido had to go back to the hospital on Tuesday for more tests.  I went home.  Richard met her the next morning and walked her through the rest of the tests.  No HIV.  2 parasites/infections.  Bag full of medication and vitamins.  

We had to go back to the hospital Friday with the dad to see the sage femme again.  The sage femme sat N’tido down and was like ‘you need to thank daniel for making you come in here because if he hadnt you wouldn’t have known that you are B neg and you would have had your baby at home and it might have died and people would have said it was sorcery.’  

This was after she asked N’tido if the baby was moving yet and N’tido was like “I don’t know.”  D does a lot with family planning and pregnant women in Bina and she often tells me that she’s amazed by how much women here don’t know about their bodies.  I didn’t know what she meant until I watched the sage femme explain to N’tido how it feels when one’s baby is kicking.  

I thanked Richard profusely on several occasions for his help.  Seriously, US hospitals are bad enough.  Imagine one that’s dimly lit and doesn’t have huge signs over everything.  Or helpful maps for guys whose only experience with pregnant women was about 20 years ago.  Richard was like “you came to help Togolese, and you are doing more for N’tido than her ‘boyfriend’ is, so it’s the least I can do.”  

Actually, the boyfriend is kind of in trouble.  My host dad told me that the guy came by several months ago wanting to “marry” N’tido.  Petit was like ‘no, she’s a student. Don’t touch her.’  Oops.  Getting a female student pregnant is apparently not good.  The guy has to pay for all of her medical bills and stuff now.  I can’t really muster up any sympathy for him.  

Richard and I had another hospital experience yesterday.  He was taking me to Bassar.  We were on the nice Kabou-Bassar road when a moto directly in front of us stopped in the middle of the lane with a flat tire.  Many people don’t get the concept of pulling off on the side of the road when their vehicle breaks down, probably because shoulders are rare, or are part of the road.  Anyway, there was an old woman on the back of the moto.  Her son told her to get off.  Without looking behind them.  I was spaced out looking at the landscape. Richard didn’t notice that they’d stopped dead.  Then we flashed by and something caught the toe of my chaco and wrenched my foot.  

We turned around to see what happened.  The woman had climbed down off the moto and was hopping around on the road, trying to walk it off.  Drizzling blood everywhere.  The skin on her calf had torn.  It was crumpled up like when you push a tablecloth on a hardwood table.  In this case, the table was her calf muscle. 3-4 inch tear. The woman was going into mild shock as we tied my handkerchief around her leg to slow down the bleeding.  Then we went to the hospital in Bassar.  

I hope Im never bleeding to death and need urgent care in Togo cause Richard had to buy all the surgical supplies and medicine before anything happened apart from a doctor looking at the injury.  D was in Bassar and came to hang out with me while we waited for the woman to get stitched up.  In Togo, if you cause an accident, you pay the medical bills.  Richard was out like 8 mille before the afternoon was over.  His profit margin for the trip would have been about 1.5 mille, depending on gas prices.  I felt bad for him.  He was really upset about the accident, which wasn’t entirely his fault.  I asked him about that, and he was like “yeah the guy stopped in the middle of the road and told his mother to get off.  It was stupid.  But if I’d brought it up we would have spent a lot of time arguing about it.  Me paying for it all was much faster.”  

Personal profile: Richard

Richard is a zedman; he makes his living driving people around on his moto.  He’s really good at it too.  Zedding here takes a degree of nerve (or stupidity in some cases), good depth perception, excellent reflexes, a large degree of skill, and luck.  Richard is the president of one of the two zedmen syndicates in Kouka, a fact I use to my advantage when I negotiate prices (“over charge me? Let’s call your president . . .”).  He’s one of the more, um, stocky togolese that I know.  I rarely see him without his big, gap-toothed smile.  He’s the kind of guy who has friends everywhere because that’s just the way he is; he’s happy to see everyone.  Richard knows everyone from the Catholic nuns, to the doctors in the hospital to the gendarmes. It helps that he speaks at least 5 different languages.  Once, a Fulani herdsman pushed his cattle across the road in front of us when we were going back to Nampoch.  Richard got mad, which he usually only does when someone blocks the road and about causes an accident.  He flipped out, stopped after we dodged the cattle, and cycled through a repertoire of languages until he found one the guy understood. 

 

Richard calls me “ton-ton Daniel” – uncle Daniel—half out of respect, half out of affection.  I’m not sure when we became friends.  He’d been one of the regular drivers for other Volunteers in the area until I, according to Karen once, “appropriated” him. Now, when he comes to my house on Fridays, my mama gives him a calabash of tchakpa.  He helps me when I do sensibilizations, especially the ones on gender equality; he’s really into that, especially since his daughter was born.  Today is actually her first birthday.  He’s planning a big party for her.  This is interesting because, 1, parties are expensive, and 2, Togolese usually don’t keep track of the exact day when their kids are born.  Richard is also probably one of the few strictly monogamous Togolese men that I know. Watching him and his wife interact is really funny because they are a lot alike—same build, same sense of humor, same iridescent smile.  They are devout Catholics.  Sometimes, Richard has to hurry to get back to Kouka to make it to choir practice at the church.  He responds to the universal “comment ca va?” with “good, thanks to God.”  He’s one of those people you can trust implicitly.  He’s one of those genuinely good people who you occasionally meet in life.  

Last time I was in Lome, I found a bottle of barbeque sauce for 1,750 cfa.  Best. Buy. Ever.  It makes everything taste better.  Barbeque sauce and rice?  Lunch of champions.  I think I even put it on pate once.  Of course, I might just have missed the sultry taste of high fructose corn syrup. . .

Last Sunday I was in the Kouka marche when a Togolese ‘hissed’ me down.  My usual reaction to this when Im having a less than good day, like last Sunday, is somewhat assholish.  However, before I could say much, the guy was like “are you Peace Corps?” In English. Brain reset.  

Turns out, he is the ‘brother’ of a RPVC who was in Bassar 25ish years ago.  Greg was at the Kouka marche with his friend Andy, another Bassar RPVC, and Andy’s Bassari-American wife, their son, and other Togolese relatives.  After running their son back to Bry’s for a pit stop, his stomach wasn’t acclimated to Togolese food yet, I spent a very pleasant afternoon swapping stories with a pair of 50 something RPCVs who love Togo so much that they come back every couple of years to visit and do projects.  

D and I had actually run into Anna, Andy’s Bassari wife, in Bassar the week before.  It was interesting to be in the marche with someone who could yell at people in Bassar then joke about it in English.  Andy went back to the States after completing 3 years of service and took her, and her young son, with him.  It was a refreshing experience because many PCVs get worn down and disillusioned with Togo by the end of 2 years—“I need to get out of here.  This country is stealing my soul.” That isn’t how I feel about Togo; its good to be around Americans who share my love for this place. 

I kick a kitten at least twice a day. Unintentionally. Whenever I walk through my house I have a furry escort running around my feet.

Nighan has started to bring stuff in for them to eat.  The following scenario happens probably once a day—Daniel is laying on his bed reading.  Becomes aware of ferocious growling under his bed.  Becomes inquisitive.  Investigates with flashlight.  See’s lone kitten straddling a lizard twice its size, chewing on its head, and growling at the world.  Kitten is too little to actually do more than tear pieces off, but that doesn’t stop it.  Repeat 4 times until Nighan finishes the thing off. 

I am craving Sprite right now

When I got back from Kouka on Monday I left my phone and my Nook out on my little table while I went to garden.  When I came back, I discovered that David decided that my phone and a bucket of water needed to be united.  I took it to a repair guy in Kouka, but its still messed up.  David has almost signal handedly cured me of ever wanting to procreate.

I don’t know what it is about the landscape here, but I am always noticing new stuff.  Like the other day I was biking into Kouka on the back road, and I realized that, from this one hill, I could see the mountains of Kabou, and, barely, of Bassar.  Then, a couple days later, I realized I could see the Kabou mountains from just outside of Nampoch.  Which makes sense cause they are the biggest thing in like 30 miles, but its still weird that I never noticed them before.  

Ive been watching the TV series the Walking Dead this past week, and I feel compelled to comment on it.  First of all, the people in it are stupid.  If the world was overrun by zombies, and there were abandon tanks everywhere, well . . .  I'd be learning how to drive a tank.  Secondly, one of the driving "apocalyptic" factors in the show seems to be the collapse of Western civilization, epitomized by the lack of hot showers.  Oh, the humanity.  The apocalypse is characterized by a lack of creature comforts.  Ugh.  Third, this reinforces the general lack of hope in the show.  D and I were talking about it today and she made a comment about zombies embodying "mindless evil."  This was my missing link, so to speak.  Civilization collapses, you can die any given day from something mindless and horrible, and you dont have hot showers.  This paradigm doesnt really resonate with me in Africa.  Look up Buruli ulcers (seriously, I just saw a poster about them in the Bassar hospital, i dont know what they are) and tell me about mindless and terrible.  Lack of western civilization has nothing to do with lack of hope in humanity or the world.  Finally, a zombie apocalypse is a stupid concept-- they will all die of starvation anyway. stop whining.  

that being said, i'll probably keep watching the show because apocalypse is interesting.

Thunderstorms are roiling across the horizon, gotta run.

Kittens Tombu too

My two great accomplishments for today are:

1. taking Ntido to the dispansaire for pre-natal counseling and

2. popping a big tombu maggot out of the tail of one of my kittens.

There is something satisfying about popping tombu maggots out of dogs/cats.  its almost as satisfying as watching them squirm around on cold concrete people you step on them. 

The other morning I walked out of my house to see papa scooping the brains out of a goat skull with his finger and eating them.  his response to the apparently incredulous look on my face? "C'est doux!"

So yeah, Ntido is pregnant.  I thought she was about 2-3 months ago.  then village rumor picked it up about 3 weeks ago. i hate being right sometimes.  Anyway, I tried talking to Ntido about it.  No good. D came out last week though, and had a good talk with her about about stuff.  So I feel better. It sucks being a guy Volunteer sometimes because half the population is too shy or doesn't speak french well enough to talk me.

The dispansaires, e.g. local/village/rural health clinics, have decent pre-natal counseling and infant health programs.  this is especially true with the dispansaire in Nampoch because it is run by Sisters from the Catholic Mission in Guerin-Kouka. 

I have a lot of respect for the Catholics here.  they do a lot of good work in Togo, especially in the arenas of health and education.  i'd never be a monastic, but you have to have a Lot of respect for people who dedicate their lives to making their corner of the world a better place.

D and I went in to talk to the Sister who comes out to the Nampoch dispansaire to find out when their CPN is, well D did all the talking cause she works with dispansaires, I just went along cause I knew the way. Anyway, the Sister was really nice and professional.  Unwed, pregnant teen mothers are sort of a fact of life here.

On my way into town today, I biked past an army ant mound, one of like 50.  This one was different cause it had a 15-ish centimeter long dead viper on it.  Poetic justice.

I refuse to say anything about the recent elections in the US, especially since it could get me fired.

I've reached this weird point in my service. Its time to start handing off national projects that Ive been working on.  Most national projects, like committees, publications, etc, have a year-long term.  Last month we finished up our last issue of Farm to Market and passed that off to the new editing team.  Then, last weekend, I went up to Dapaong to take part in the transition meeting for the new Food Security Committee.  I was one of the founding members of the committee; its kind of weird passing it on to new people, but in a good way.  Normally, I guess, it wouldnt be that big of a deal because I'd be getting reading to COS.  Since I am planning on being here for another year or so this feels like my mid-service point instead of the beginning of the end. 

i like the feel of real books, but i like trees and being able to have 100+ books with me on my nook.  conflicted.

there's something about kittens

as i write this, Bry's recently ex-kitten is purring on my chest.  Bry has been gone for a couple of days and her cat misses attention

how many Togolese does it take to kill a 7 inch snake?  As many as can find big sticks

when is a Togolese convinced that a snake is actually dead?  one word-- hamburger.

seriously, i watched a snake killing the other day and this one woman refused to accept that that the thing  was dead even though its head was mush

a snake-killing gave rise to one of the best ethnic cracks Ive heard in Togo.  I was drinking tchakpa with a friend of mine who is a primary school director.  Across the road from us, a couple of guys found a snake in a roll of thatch and beat it with sticks bigger than they were.  They brought it over for the director and me to examine.  A cluster of jumpy kids hovered over my shoulder.  Every time the snake twitched, they jumped.  Anyway, I was like "so are you going to eat this?" cause konkumba eat everything except for crocodiles.  The director was like no.  but then he was like "but if this was chez Lamba, the kids would already have it skinned and over a fire."  this was hilarious.  Lamba live across the river.  they and konkumba dont get along very well.

i found out that this weed that ive been pulling out of my garden by the armfull is actually edible.  I was at the nampoch marche with my friend a couple nights ago and I tried it. he was like "its konkumba salad"

since my nook decharged the other night, ive been watching this TV show-- "homeland."  its pretty good.  good acting, psychological and stuff.  i cant get into the plot though.  I feel detached from the terrorists-want-to-attack-the-us-and-we-have-to-stop-them motif.

since i promised kittens  . . .

 

they are cute. highly adorable. and do all kinds of kitten things.  like crap all over my my house.

it is funny to watch them when Ninghan brings in a lizard (often bigger than they are) and they try to eat it. 

last night i was sitting on my porch when Ninghan ran across the compound and jumped up on a 5 ft wall.  then she snatched a mouse out of one of the thatched roofs

then she took it inside for the munchkins to play with

having 4 kittens, ive decided, is a lot like having a kid.  they crap everywhere, yowl a lot, and keep you up all night

another thing that bothered me about "homeland" was that i couldnt recognize any of the cars in it

fyi- the kittens arent naturally pink.  the trim in my house is red, and the paint rubs off (it also scrubs off the floor along with kitten crap). 

continuing on the poop vein, Jacques drug me over to another compound yesterday afternoon to drink tchakpa.  there was this kid, maybe 2-3 asleep on a mat.  we sat there drinking.  he peed himself and woke up.  his mom brought over a bowl of rice to eat, and yelled at him to wash his hand first. they ate.  then he got up.  stood there looking at me-- and crapped on the ground.  plop plop plop.  his sister didn't even blink. she went and got some sorgham heads and scrapped it up. i tried not to read anything into this

ive been waging war on ants this week.  since it started raining, ant hives, colonies, whatever, periodically swarm.  there is this one kind of big brown ant that seems to prefer to live in concrete/mud brick walls- like my house.  i go around the outside of my house every couple of days and spray their holes.  im afraid of their burrows opening up on the inside of my house sometime.  that would be miserable

the same stuff that i used on ants, and that makes me afraid of 6-foot tall mutant ants/cockroaches coming to murder me in my sleep, is the same stuff that my friend Djabab sprays on his plow cattle to kill tumbu flies

village rumor has it that my oldest host sister, N'tido, is pregnant.  A fact that ive been hoping was my imagination for the past 2 months.  Ugh.