And then there were two

Again

Home sweet home  

I could feel my skin drying out in the bush taxi up north last week.  Literally.  

Getting home was a saga in and of itself.  On Saturday, in Bassar, we hung out with an RPCV from the 60s who is now an archaeology professor.  He's been doing research on iron smelting in west Kara.  He's found evidence of iron smelting since 400 BCE.  One of the pumps we replaced is apparently right in the middle of a iron smelting/communal grave site that he's been excavating   He was really cool to talk to.  Knows more about Togolese history than any 3 books Ive read. 

Sunday, the saga of D's electricity and her douchebag landlord came to an end when the people from the power company finally brought her her own counter.  I dont think i have ever been so pissed at someone in my life as i have been at her (absentee) landlord. 

Monday, I finally made it home.  Bike Paul (the guy who does bike training/repair for PC) came to Bina on his bike repair tour.  He tuned up D's bike.  She tested it and crashed in a ditch.  My first hint that something was wrong was when I saw a bunch of people suddenly sprint down the road where she was.  But I got a free ride up to Kouka.  In a PC Landrover, this took about 45 minutes.  With A/C.  It took Bike Paul about an hour to fix my bike.  It had issues. 

I got home and Tadji came out to say hi.  Then Ninghan came out to hiss at me.  Then they kissed.  The funny thing was that Petite had been feeding them for the 10 days I was gone and hadnt realized that Nighan was back.  She came out while I was sitting on my porch.  My whole family was agog.  Seriously.

Hot season is here.  It is house building season.  This lets me indulge my inner child and play with mud.  So, to build a house here, they make mud brick.  For the foundation they use chunks of lava rock, set in mud.  Then they start with the brick.  Its pretty fun.  I like mortaring the brick in place.  With mud.  I set a course along one side of the house by myself and Ntifoni was like "Daniel, tu es bon."

I wake up at least twice a night to roll out of my current sweat puddle and find a dry spot.  If I drug myself to sleep.  The heat lingers in the shadows during hot season.  Especially after the sun goes down.  The wind picks up, so its bearable outside, but inside its stifling.  Sometimes I think that Im stewing in my own body heat.   

Lome blues

There are a lot of things I dont like about Lome.  The humidity.  The sand.  The humidity.  Vendors who think you want to buy their crap. The humidity.  Necessary AC.  The humidity.  Uncooperative taxi drivers.  The humidity. Etc.  But there are a lot of things I like about it too.

I enjoy sitting at the beach bar (one of several) in the evening.  Vendors come buy selling cigarettes/breath mints/chinese condoms, watches, stuffed animals, tourist knickknacks, etc.  usually this is annoying, but sometimes they have Swisher Sweet cigars.  Nothing better than a cigar on the beach with a cold one.  Looking at the ships off the coast and making sure some kid doesnt run off with D's purse.  Seriously, I really enjoy beach bar. 

We eat Really well in Lome.  After taking the GRE, D and a bunch of people went to this Lebanese downtown.  I met up with them there.  The owner said he'd make us food for 4 mille a person.  He must have brought out 10 different dishes.  We were stuffed. With leftovers. 

D and I go to this other Lebanese spot near the Bureau a lot.  Its like a bakery I guess with a wood fired oven outside.  We get pita bread baked with cheese or spices or meat.  Its really good.  And they have "turkish" coffee. which is always amazing.

Lome also has a large chinese expat community, so there are a bunch of chinese restaurants near here.  We tried out one a couple days ago.  I had sweet/sour chicken for the first time in like 2 years.

We also had fried calimari another night. 

We obtained a copy of the new Les Miserables the other night.  I woke up the next morning with the songs stuck in my head.

I usually hate AC, but i need to stop sweating at some point.  All the PCVs from up north always moan about how humid Lome is.  Up north its hotter, but much dryer.  I seriously dont know how people could stand it here before electricity. 

Another nice thing about Lome is that there is ice cream here.  Mint milkshake.  That's all I'm saying. 

Actually, another problem with Lome is that its easy to blow a lot of money on eating here.  Who wants to drop 100 cfa for rice off the street when you can get a legit cheeseburger for 1800?  or pizza for 4000?

The pump project is officially done.  We have accounted for all of our funds.  For every one of the 20,000 that we spent.  And over 10,000 people in west Kara are drinking clean water now.

so, there are some pictures.  I dont think I have posted them before.  My apologies if I have.  The AC is scrambling my head.

D is trying out a new pump

Another new pump

Me supervising

Water!

I'm taking apart a new pump head

our installation team working

pump site

this is definitely "before" pic

D, Saye, and Kadar doing a health talk

 

the return of Nighan, or, the camels are coming!

Ive been on this major coconut/banana kick lately.  One can buy coconuts relatively easily in Kouka.  I buy chunks of the meat.  They are so good.  I hate shredded coconut, but there is something about the meat that I really like.  A faint fatty taste? I dont know. Many of the bananas here arent those phallic bland ones that one finds in supermarkets.  No, my favorite ones here are short, stubby, and sweet.  They have a lot of fiber and leave a film in your mouth, but they are really good.

Last week I went to a ceremony where the prefet nominated a Fulani chief as the first Fulani chief of the canton of Nampoch.  In other words, he's responsible for all of the Fulani in the canton.  It was pretty cool.  It was the first time I'd seen Fulani dances.  They use flutes.  And there is this one ritual where the men and boys go after each other with painted sticks.  When this started in the Fulani quarter on the outskirts of Nampoch, all of my neighbors went running out to watch. 

The Fulani are an example of the "melting pot" nature of Togo (actually, at the reception after the ceremony, the highschool director used that term when he was talking to me).  Anyway, traditionally the Fulani are nomads.  However, a while back, Petit's grandfather invited a Fulani family to settle on some land outside of Nampoch to oversee their cattle herds.  This was mutually beneficial to both Nampoch and the Fulani.  Nampoch got the wealth that cattle bring while the Fulani received a secure area to water and pasture their herds.  The other day, when I was out picking cotton, three different herds went through.  My friends were guessing where they were from and were calling out to the drovers in different languages.  One guy was from Niger I think.  Tis the season for nomadic herds, but I digress . . .

Anyway, Fulani.  They look different from Togolese.  Finer features, high cheekbones.  Tall, thin, and lanky usually.  The women braid their hair with beads instead of shaving it like many Togolese women.  The men, especially those from beyond Burkina, are fond of sport coats and Arabic scarves. Fulani make the best wagash-- local cheese.

I was awoken about 3 am the other night by growling.  From under my bed.  My torchlight revealed Tadji and Nighan standing in my bedroom growling at each other.  Upon further investigation I noticed a half-grown kitten cowering under my clothes shelves.  When I shined my light on him, he tried to climb up the wall.  I couldn't sleep with all the growling, so I ushered all the participents out of my bedroom.  Or tried to.  I had to get my broom to move the kitten.  He was so feral he was bouncing off the walls.  Literally.  Eventually, I directed him towards the door and he took off.  Nighan now spends her days hiding in my shelves.  I am not sure why.  I think maybe she is trying to get away from her kitten(s).

This is the time of year when nomads from Niger/Mali/Burkina ride their camels down south in search of forage and water. 

D and I came down to Lome yesterday.  She's taking the GRE tomorrow and we're working on closing out our pump project.  Somewhere south of Atakpame I realised that my skin started feeling greasy.  It hasnt stopped.  I hate the humidity down here.  But, last night we ate calimari, cheese pizza, and a cheeseburger/fries.  I got the burger, she got the fries.  That and draft beer almost makes up for the humidity.

nothing like a good castration . . .

I am sitting on Bry's couch right now listening to Koutchala and another guy cut up 2 of the mango trees that used to be in Kadar's front yard.  I helped them push one of the trees over earlier.  How does one cut up a tree in Togo without a chainsaw?  with a machete.

I woke up saturday morning to my neighbors digging latrines.  life never ceases to amaze me

So, I told Kadar last week that i wanted to get my Tadji castrated.  he is friends with the vet.  So, 650 friday morning the vet was on my doorstep, I may or may not have been awake.  Anyway, 3 of us pinned my cat to the courtyard while the vet did his thing.  he wore latex gloves, which initially impressed me.  but the gloves kept getting bunched up, so it took him like 5 tries to tie off each testicle.  Tadji was not impressed.  the razor blade did not seem to be overly sharp either.  tadji is more subdued now, but otherwise indefatigable.

just remembering that story enough to type it up caused me pain

Monday was another first.  I had to make an emergency run into Kara, so Kadar offered to take me on his moto.  we left nampoch at like 730, went to kara, and came back.  i got home around 1830.  later, i calculated that i did about 125 miles on a moto that day.  plus 2000 mg of ibeprofin.  

road work is serious now.  they built detours around all the bridges between here and manga.  when Kadar and I went to Kara, we had to pull off the road for a convoy of dump trucks.  Going through the dust cloud in the wake of one of those trucks is nearly suicidal, as another guy on a moto found out.  Im still not sure how he saw the next truck

Harmattan is ending.  again.  instead of a nice cold wind at night, its calm.  which means i wake up and my room is 90 degrees and outside is 75.  the heat feels closer, like its trying to crawl into my chest or cling to my skin

i have a new solar charger! my 3rd.  after my second one died, i was not really crazy about replacing it.  until i realized that i could use one to charge my nook.  now, i am very happy.  until it breaks

  

in the past 2 weeks, 3 kids in villages around me have gotten a bad headache, then died.  sometimes, i wonder if people here would mind paying higher taxes, or taxes in general, if they had access to a healthcare system that, despite its faults, is obligated to treat someone in an ER, and has the medicine/technology to treat most diseases, if it meant that their children wouldnt drop dead. a higher infant mortality rate is not inversely proportional to the grief a parent feels when a child dies. 

on the plus side,  2 of my neighbors just had babies.  i will have to name them. i hope they make it

 

i ate sonic

I am sitting in a rooftop bar in Bassar.  D is trying to relearn math for the GRE next to me.  She is talking to herself and just pounded her pen on the table.  I think this is a bad sign.

This bar, Mandela, is nice because the rooftop section is somewhat secluded, especially at 9 am.  Downstairs, local notables are drinking beer and flirting with the waitresses.  Upstairs though, its private enough that we can use computers/internet without attracting a lot of attention.  This is good because D's house currently doesnt have power (dispute with the landlord) nor good reseau (no internet).  When I am feeling pensive, I can look out over the tree studded hills to the low mountains.  Or I can when its not harmattan.  Right now I feel like Im in mistworld or something. 

 I had to run across the street to a little booth to buy Togocel credit so that I could get online.  Two guys were there.  I said hi to one guy in french and to the other guy in Bassar.  They started talking about how awesome Peace Corps Volunteers are and saying that Togolese would never accept to go to another country, live in a farm, and get eaten by mosquitoes just to help other people.   Most of that last sentence was a direct translation.  I think I blushed a little.

The other day I was sitting on my porch when Jacques came by, fresh from the champ.  He had this beat up messenger back with him and a big smile.  "look what I found!"  Reached in his bag and pulled out a spiky ball about the size of a large grapefruit.  "WTF?!" is a good approximation of my reaction.  I took the ball, gingerly, and realized that the stuff under the spikes was skin.  then I rolled the ball around until i found a beady little nose amidst the spikes.  it was a hedgehog.  Jacques was almost bouncing up and down "they are really sweet! they have a lot of fat!"  direct translation.  He tried to pry it open with his khass but it wasnt having it.  Then Jacques was like, "Im going to take it home and cook it, and you can have some."

Jacques came back in about an hour with something that looked just like how I imagined a grilled hedgehog should look. He got Adji to pound some pepper and salt, then he pulled the hedgehog apart and gave me some.  I think it was a leg/shoulder and some ribs.  Maybe.  He was right.  It was fatty.  Really gamey fat.  I nibbled on the meat a little and thought that it tasted like tender squirrel.  Then I gave the rest to my cat.  He was happy.  Lizard is much better.

There are days when life here frustrates the ______ out of me.  Like yesterday.  I called a zed to come take me to the station in Kouka so that I could catch the morning car to Kara.  I got to the station at 830, bought my ticket, claimed a seat, then went into Kouka for an egg sammie with Bry.  About 930, the car rolled into Kouka.  Got gas . . . . went to the police station to pick up a cop with some version of an AK-47 that looked older than I am (pour votre securite) . . . . then stopped to pick me up . . . .then went down the road about a k and stopped to pick someone else up which resulted in having to repack the top of the car . . . . .then we left.  Because of the cop, who had to ride shotgun (with an assault rifle), I was stuck on the seat between him and driver.  No padding.  And we went slow.  Really slow.  Passed through this one village after Kabou and started a goat along the road.  A little goat.  He spazzed out and took off running.  Alongside the car.  Passed us.  With enough room to spare that he cut across the road in front of us.  The driver didnt even have to brake.

With the ever expanding new road, the trip to Kara is a little under 2 hours now in a direct car.  It took about 3.  I might still be a little bitter about it.

But then Kader took me brought me from Kara to Kabou that afternoon, and I caught car to Bassar really quick.  D had a candlelight dinner-- stir fry and eggrolls-- waiting on me when I got to Bina.  So the day ended well.

here is an article about harmattan with pictures of the dust cloud over the Atlantic.  here is another. 

I love my cat. I really do.  My pride in his accomplishments is only slightly diminished when he brings said accomplishments into my bedroom at 00h00 to play with them, noisily, before eating them under my bed.  Nothing like being lulled to sleep by the crunching of mouse bones.   

happy belated new year

so, welcome to 2013. belatedly

having fortified myself with an egg sammie and cafe noir from Mohammed's Egg Sammie Emporium, I will endeavor to chronicle the events surrounding the most recent bonne annee

actually i have no idea what the egg sammie place is called, and i've been eating there for over 2 years.  it took me 8 months to learn that the owner's name is Mohammed

the new year was a lot of fun.  D came out on Monday to help me fete.  i bought a duck on sunday, rather spontaneously, because one can never have too much food on bonne annee.  Nor booze.  I sprang for a bottle of apple flavored vodka in Kara, and a bottle of Pastis here, as well as for some of those danish butter cookies like the ones that my parents get every year from their investment guy.  taste of the holidays

So, D came out monday afternoon.  We went out with Bry, Kevin, Amanda, Kadar, Usman, Janet, and some other people.  the crowd changed throughout the day.  D brought a 1/3 of a bottle of absinthe that I'd picked up in some airport.  Kader produced a bottle of Absolut Vodka from someplace.  that was a hit.  the absinthe was not.  even Pastis, another anise flavored drink, is popular here.

new years dawned with the sound of firecrackers.  I'm not sure where they came from, but they are wildly popular and come in a variety of types. 2 bang, 4 bang, 5 bang, 6 bang, 8 bang, 10 bang.  totally serious.
they are fun.  when the fuses work.  when they dont, you just throw them on a fire.

I found bottle rockets too.  made my month.

Everyone had been brewing tchakpa in Nampoch for the previous 2 days, so there was a lot to drink.  and to eat.  About 1500h, Ntido came up to me and was like "so, how you are going to help us fete?"  never mind the fact I'd provided a chicken, and a duck, and candy, and that my bottle of vodka was mostly gone.  "how do you want me to help you fete?" - "well, we're hungry, what should we make?" - "um, rice?" - "dont have any.  do something about this (implied)" - *sigh* "how much rice?" - "3 bowls should be good"  (that's enough for like 40 people).  she stuck with this estimate until i caved.  D laughed.  then once the rice amount was agreed upon-- "there isnt any oil either"  *double sigh*.  i wound up just giving her 10 mille and sending her to the store.  when Ntido, and friend, and babies, got back with their basin of spils, i counted the change.  they hadn't bothered to, and the boutique made 550 cfa.  bonne annee!  but on the bright side i was eating rice and duck for the next 3 days

after that, D and I went next door for tchakpa and a ball.  we danced the night away in the dust with kids, and Petit.  who was really happy by this point.

after that, i was feeling bored, so we lit off all the fireworks that i'd got in kara. 8 bangs are much more exciting when you lit 3 of them at once.  aside from this one kid who got so excited that he would always run in the same direction that i threw lit firecrackers, this was fun.  until i got to the sparkler part.  explosions attract kids.  especially explosions with lights.  so, when i wanted to give sparklers to Jidda, David, and Adah, i had like 40 kids in my compound.  and 8 sparklers.  I gave them out to my fam first.  then i gave the rest out to random girls.  one kid got pissed and was like "hey, why are you only giving them to the girls?"  probably cause they spent all day making food for you.  brat.    

Jan 2 dawned.  a bit more slowly than the previous day.  but the fete was on!  Bry came out.  after fufu breakfast, we walked over to Kpolobal, to chez Nicco, with Ntifoni.  Nicco is the president of the anti-forced marriage committee in Nampoch.  He didnt go to school, so his french isnt that good, but he's a great guy.  i named his youngest daughter Monic, after my sister.  So we got to his house and had tchapka.  then brandy.  then fufu with sauce.  then he brought out a whole pintade for us.  since D is a vegetarian, i had to pick up her slack.  Nicco always makes a ton of food when he invites us over.

After that we managed to walk back to Nampoch for our next social engagement at Kodjo's.  Tchakpa.  Good sodabe, rice with chicken.  Although Kodjo had gotten wagash for D.  by this time it was about 1500, and we called zeds.  then went back to my house.  Wine. rice with duck sauce (Ntido made it).  Richard came with friends, so he ate with us.  Then we went to Kouka.  And back out with Ganiou, Monoriou, Usman, and some other people.  Kadar was feeling anti-social so he stayed home.

Jan 3 eventually dawned.  And I have never seen Nampoch so dead.  tumbleweeds would have been blowing across the countryside, if they hadnt have gotten hung up on all the people passed out under the neem tree.  i think the village was out of tchakpa too.

one of the best new years ive had.  except for friday my congestion erupted into a sinus infection.  from the dusty ball i think. it got so bad that on saturday I sent a zed into kouka to get me antibiotics.  i love togo sometimes

we have our 17th pump scheduled for Thursday

if you want to get a hint of what life is like for the average rural togolese, ie poverty, watch the show Shameless, on Showtime.  yeah, there's stuff that not similar, but, when i watched it, i did not get that sense of alienation that i get when i watch a lot of current shows.

my cat survived bonne annee!  although he spent 2 days hiding in some dark corner of my house cause of the firecrackers

little doggie, however, did not.  her owner, not Petit, apparently wanted party money, so he sold her for fete food.  her two pups, smart puppy and stupid puppy, are both alive and well. i refused to eat her

i have the weirdest cravings here.  like last night i wanted something sweet, so i laid in bed and chain chewed gum that my mom sends me

this was after i ate bread and a carefully hoarded packet of nacho cheese for lunch.  the nacho cheese didnt go over so well with my stomach

i dont know if its because of the new year, or my impending birthday, or that today is my mom's birthday (happy birthday mom!), but recently i've become aware of how much time ive spent here.  Like David is talking now.  And his mom is pregnant again.  D noticed on New Years.  After my host mom had taken a couple shots of Pastis . . . .but yeah.  the kids are getting bigger.  my house is getting cracks in it.  my mattress is getting thin.  my clothes that i brought in 2010 are making the transition to rags.  my gas tank finally ran out. etc.  life goes on

blazes & bad brakes

as a US government employee, I get a mandatory flu shot every year.  this, unfortunately, does nothing to help my dust caked sinuses.  I biked into Kouka this morning and spent an hour sniffling and snorting like I was dying of something

Bry is letting me use her computer

So on the way back from Kara the other day, D and I were in a 5-place car.  It was once a Toyota hatchback.  It had 7 adults in it.  Anyway, we stopped along the road and dropped off someone.  Started up again, and something in the front, driver's-side wheel started screeching.  We drove until it went "clunk."  The driver did the Togolese "oOh" and pulled over.  He took the wheel off.  The brake pads dropped out on the pavement.  The calipers were hanging by a bolt.  The disc was pressed against the bracket that holds the front pad.  The driver was perplexed.  He flagged down another passing taxi. The drivers conferred as to why the disc was not where it was suppose to be.  They flagged down another taxi.  I was laughing a lot because that is about all that one can do in that situation.  The 3rd driver pointed out that the nut on the hub that holds the disc in place was loose and had creeped up.  The wheel was literally working its way off the hub.  To tighten the nut, indeed to decided on a solution, took a committee.  Like 10 people were standing around, including me, gesturing, pointing, and offering opinions on what was wrong.  The 2nd driver tighten the nut with a rock and a screwdriver.  A nail was eventually found to put through the locking hole in the hub so that the nut couldnt creep off anymore.  During all of this, someone (I had already pointed this out to D) noticed that the rear driver's side wheel had worn through the first set of cables.  Everyone thought this was funny and made the driver change the tired.  His spare was worn down to the the first set of bands.  All of the other tires looked like this.  Car was fixed, everyone was happy. And we got to Kabou just fine.

That was Tuesday.  I got home on Wednesday.  That evening I walked out of my house to answer the phone. I turned around to see that the near sky near the primary school was orange.  Then I heard screaming.  Then everyone in my quarter sprinted down the road to see what was going on.

Someone's fire had gotten out of control and had started burning a big straw awning.  The fire jumped to the thatched roofs of a couple houses.  Women were screaming and crying.  Smoke was everywhere. Kids were jumping around and yelling. Young guys, most of whom I knew, were climbing up on walls to knock down burning thatch before sparks spread.  Other people were running into the houses to pull out belongings.  Then a line of people with buckets on their heads pushed through the crowd and started throwing water on the fire.  It wasn't until they got there that they got the fire under control.  4 buildings were burned, rather the roofs were.  Mud brick doesnt burn too well.

That night one of my friends came over and was like "everyone in that quarter loves you.  if you hadn't replaced their pump last week, they would have had to walk to the river for water and everything would have burned down."

Yesterday, the chief of the quarter sent a delegation to my house with a chicken and yams.  they were like "we dont know how to thank you enough, so we brought you stuff to make good fufu."  Nothing like a timely pump replacement.

It is getting cold at nights now.  "cold" is 70 degrees.  I think the air feels chill because it is dry air off the Sahara desert.  Togolese wear coats.

Tadji must be cold too because he goes from sleeping next to my feet to sleeping wrapped around my feet.

Merry holidays