So in case you haven't heard by now, as it appears word travels fast, I am back in the good ole US of A...permanently. I decided 15 months was enough; I celebrated my second birthday in Togo and our one-year anniversary as PCVs, then I packed up my house and all of my things and came home. I am glad I did Peace Corps. At the peak of my unhappiness I would have said I regretted it, but that isn't true, I got a lot out of my experience, but now it is time to move on and start a new chapter. I thought about it for a long time before making my final decision. I love the friends I made while I was there, I got to see and do a lot of things, but when it came down to it, I just wasn't happy anymore. Once I made the decision I thought I would automatically be happy again, but it was much harder than I expected. There are emotions you have to combat when making the decision to leave: feeling like a quitter or a failure, feeling like you just weren't tough enough, feeling guilty for leaving a place when the people in your village you who you love and care about have no choice but to stay. In the end, however, I couldn't stay our of guilt, or fear of judgement by others, I had to do what I needed to do for myself.
Before I left a few of my friends asked me what I would miss. In the craziness of leaving it was hard to come up with an answer. I was so ready to come home I couldn't think of anything. But there are things I will miss about Togo: My neighbor Sabine's laugh, her husband, Ferdi, holding my hand when we walked back to the house after one calabash too many, sunsets, the pounding, furious rain in the middle of the night, sitting outside and reading all day long, baobob trees, fresh mangoes and pineapples, buying pieces of coconut on the street for 25FCFA, riding motos (at night, in the dark, without my helmet :) ), the back room at Chateau (aka grandma's basement), the whole Kara (Kante, Bafilo) cluster, all of the amazing women of CHAP '09, Fufu avec sauce d'arachide, Club Espoire, Fan Milk, watching an entire TV series in one day, off a bootleg DVD, while lying on a bed-bug infested mattress covered in a dirty sheet, on a computer with bad speakers, in the company of good friends. To those volunteers in Togo who have internet access and are bored enough to read my blog, I love you and I will miss you very much.
I could rant and rave on my final blog. I could tell you all of the things I hated about Peace Corps, all of my problems and frustrations. I could spend an hour trying to get you to feel sorry for me because I am afraid you will think I'm a wimp or a quitter. I could, but I'm not going to. I know why I came home and I know it was the right decision for me. I would also never discourage anyone else from joining the Peace Corps; it is a great way to see a part of the world you might never otherwise visit and it looks great on your resume. The only advice I would give to those future PCVs is to try not to go into it with huge goals and expectations and try to do everything on your own terms.
So what's next? I am working as a waitress/bartender and trying to save money. My plan is to go back to school next fall and get my dual masters in Public Policy and Social Work from Ohio State. I want to be home for a while and spend time with my family. At the same time, I do have that Travel Bug and you never know where it may take me next....
Friday, September 12, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
One year ToGo
Hey everybody, sorry it has been so long since my last post. That seems to be a common way for me to start my blogs. I have been in kind of a funk over the past few months and was having a hard time thinking of positive and funny things to say. I said this, both to my friend Aimee and to my Dad, and both of them said the same thing to response: "you don't always have to be positive and funny on your blog." So I thought I would try to explain a little bit about my frustration before I move on to talk about the wonderful visit I just had from Erin and Dan.
As most of you know, I was home in May for my Mom's graduation from Law School (as a side note, she just finished taking the Bar and now you can probably find her at one. So proud of you, Mommy!!). Being home was amazing and wonderful and 4 weeks flew by in the blink of an eye. When I left Togo to come home I was feeling really negative about Peace Corps in general and I wasn't sure what going home would do to that sentiment. I was burnt out and I knew I needed a break, so my hope was that going home and getting some time and distance to clear my head would mean that I would come back renewed and refreshed. I had forgotten how fast things move in America. Togo does not function on a schedule; there is no such thing as being late for a meeting; there is no rush. Back in the states I felt like I was constantly on the go, tying to squeeze all the things I wanted to do and all the people I wanted to see into, what turned out to be, far less time than I had imagined. Everybody had questions about Peace Corps, which is of course to be expected, but "How's Africa?" is not an easy question to respond to. My Peace Corps friends and I sat around thinking of funny one-liners to give to that question, like, "Well, have you seen Blood Diamond?" or "Brad and Angelina are so nice in person." But when it comes down to it, there is no short answer to that question. The fact of the matter is that I was feeling unsure about Peace Corps and whether or not I wanted to stay for another year. People had so many nice things to say about what I am doing, and many people told me they wished they were doing the same. I did a lot of smiling and nodding. In truth, a lot of the time I feel like I am achieving nothing at all by being here. I don't feel like I have accomplished much of anything in my first year. I came here thinking I would have an actual "job," but it turns out that most of my "work" is just about being here. And in the short term that's great, but for 2 years, feeling useless and directionless can be extremely frustrating. However, that is not what people want to hear when they ask, "How's Africa?" They want to hear that you are loving it and having grand adventures, and not saying those things felt like I was letting people down. I know that most of that is only in my head, but that was how it felt, and as a result I put on a big smile and said, "It's great! I love it!" It was easier to tell people what they wanted to hear. Despite my negative feelings, however, I believed that things would get better. I just needed to stick it out and eventually things would improve. So I came back to Togo, resolved to try to make it work and a month into being back my best friend in country, Kate, ETed (Early Terminated her service). It was not unexpected, but still it was a blow. Since we have very little available in terms of entertainment we become extremely reliant on each other. She made the right decision, she was unhappy and needed to go home. I think it takes a lot of guts to leave Peace Corps early and I am proud of her for being so brave and doing what she needed to do. I am also jealous. And sad. And I miss her. She seems to have started a bit of a trend and we have had several more people from our stage leave since. They say that is the way it goes in Peace Corps and that the one year mark is a pretty common time to lose people. I tried to push thoughts of quitting out of my head and and make the best of things, yet i found myself feeling miserable. Then I had a thought, facilitated by my very wise father... There is this chapter in Winnie-the-Pooh where Rabbit goes to visit Owl in his tree. Owl is trying to get information from Rabbit about Christopher Robin and Rabbit is being extremely obtuse and frustrating and Owl looks at him, and wonders whether to push him off the tree; but, thinking he could always do it afterwards, he tries once more to find out what they were talking about. That is kind of what Peace Corps is like, and the realization that I can get out anytime I want, that it is an option and that no one would think any less of me, makes it a little easier to step back, take a deep breath, and save pushing Peace Corps from the tree for another day. I don't know if that made sense to all you non-Winnie-the-Pooh fanatics out there, but the point it, knowing I can leave makes it easier to stay.
So...moving on. As I'm sure many of you have heard, I was just visited by my two best friends in the whole world. I still cannot believe they were actually here. The trip was, in short, amazing. Of course it was not without it's issues; Dan's luggage never actually made it to Togo. It got to Ghana a day and a half after we left and was retrieved the day he flew back home. Fortunately, Dan is a smart packer and brought enough changes of clothes to get by. We spent two night in Accra, the capital of Ghana and then crossed over to Lome, spent a night there and headed up to Kara. There is a new group of volunteers in country and Erin and Dan's visit happened to correspond with their one week visit to their posts. There is always a party at the end of post-visit week and we decided to have a pig roast. We bought a live pig for the equivalent of 30 dollars, the guards at our transit house killed it and then Larissa, Peter, Dan and I carved it up. Erin decided to opt out of the carving and act as photographer. Carving up a pig is a lot of work! But it resulted in delicious kebabs complete with onions, green peppers, tomatoes and pineapple. The party was a success and the new group of volunteers seem to be a generally good group. The three of us also took a trip to see the Tatas out in Kate's former village, Nadoba. We spent a night out in my village and Erin and Dan ate the local grub and drank the local brew (tchouk). My neighbors loved them and since their departure have asked about their well-being constantly. They both got to meet my Togolese counterpart and suggested that I remark on my blog about how wonderful and motivated he is. It's true, and I guess I took that for granted. His work with Peace Corps, like mine, is as a volunteer, but his in the more literal sense as he doesn't get the 8 dollars a day. He is also the volunteer head of our Community Heath Agents and he works as a mechanic and works in the fields. As I said, I took this for granted. I think that was one of the best things about Erin and Dan's visit was that it made me see things in a new light and lent an outsiders perspective. We finished out our trip back in Lome where we went bargain shopping in the market and spent a day at the beach. I can't possibly thank them enough for coming here. It means a great deal to know that I will be able to go home and talk about this experience with people who have actually seen what I am talking about. I have not written that much about our trip because I have asked Erin and Dan to do guest posts on my blog. They have both said they will do it, so hopefully in the next couple of weeks they will add pictures and stories.
Well that's about all she wrote for now. I need to talk about Camp, but I feel that is a story for another post. I miss you all terribly and, as always I appreciate all your love and support. Keep in touch and take care! Until next time (which I promise will be soon!)
As most of you know, I was home in May for my Mom's graduation from Law School (as a side note, she just finished taking the Bar and now you can probably find her at one. So proud of you, Mommy!!). Being home was amazing and wonderful and 4 weeks flew by in the blink of an eye. When I left Togo to come home I was feeling really negative about Peace Corps in general and I wasn't sure what going home would do to that sentiment. I was burnt out and I knew I needed a break, so my hope was that going home and getting some time and distance to clear my head would mean that I would come back renewed and refreshed. I had forgotten how fast things move in America. Togo does not function on a schedule; there is no such thing as being late for a meeting; there is no rush. Back in the states I felt like I was constantly on the go, tying to squeeze all the things I wanted to do and all the people I wanted to see into, what turned out to be, far less time than I had imagined. Everybody had questions about Peace Corps, which is of course to be expected, but "How's Africa?" is not an easy question to respond to. My Peace Corps friends and I sat around thinking of funny one-liners to give to that question, like, "Well, have you seen Blood Diamond?" or "Brad and Angelina are so nice in person." But when it comes down to it, there is no short answer to that question. The fact of the matter is that I was feeling unsure about Peace Corps and whether or not I wanted to stay for another year. People had so many nice things to say about what I am doing, and many people told me they wished they were doing the same. I did a lot of smiling and nodding. In truth, a lot of the time I feel like I am achieving nothing at all by being here. I don't feel like I have accomplished much of anything in my first year. I came here thinking I would have an actual "job," but it turns out that most of my "work" is just about being here. And in the short term that's great, but for 2 years, feeling useless and directionless can be extremely frustrating. However, that is not what people want to hear when they ask, "How's Africa?" They want to hear that you are loving it and having grand adventures, and not saying those things felt like I was letting people down. I know that most of that is only in my head, but that was how it felt, and as a result I put on a big smile and said, "It's great! I love it!" It was easier to tell people what they wanted to hear. Despite my negative feelings, however, I believed that things would get better. I just needed to stick it out and eventually things would improve. So I came back to Togo, resolved to try to make it work and a month into being back my best friend in country, Kate, ETed (Early Terminated her service). It was not unexpected, but still it was a blow. Since we have very little available in terms of entertainment we become extremely reliant on each other. She made the right decision, she was unhappy and needed to go home. I think it takes a lot of guts to leave Peace Corps early and I am proud of her for being so brave and doing what she needed to do. I am also jealous. And sad. And I miss her. She seems to have started a bit of a trend and we have had several more people from our stage leave since. They say that is the way it goes in Peace Corps and that the one year mark is a pretty common time to lose people. I tried to push thoughts of quitting out of my head and and make the best of things, yet i found myself feeling miserable. Then I had a thought, facilitated by my very wise father... There is this chapter in Winnie-the-Pooh where Rabbit goes to visit Owl in his tree. Owl is trying to get information from Rabbit about Christopher Robin and Rabbit is being extremely obtuse and frustrating and Owl looks at him, and wonders whether to push him off the tree; but, thinking he could always do it afterwards, he tries once more to find out what they were talking about. That is kind of what Peace Corps is like, and the realization that I can get out anytime I want, that it is an option and that no one would think any less of me, makes it a little easier to step back, take a deep breath, and save pushing Peace Corps from the tree for another day. I don't know if that made sense to all you non-Winnie-the-Pooh fanatics out there, but the point it, knowing I can leave makes it easier to stay.
So...moving on. As I'm sure many of you have heard, I was just visited by my two best friends in the whole world. I still cannot believe they were actually here. The trip was, in short, amazing. Of course it was not without it's issues; Dan's luggage never actually made it to Togo. It got to Ghana a day and a half after we left and was retrieved the day he flew back home. Fortunately, Dan is a smart packer and brought enough changes of clothes to get by. We spent two night in Accra, the capital of Ghana and then crossed over to Lome, spent a night there and headed up to Kara. There is a new group of volunteers in country and Erin and Dan's visit happened to correspond with their one week visit to their posts. There is always a party at the end of post-visit week and we decided to have a pig roast. We bought a live pig for the equivalent of 30 dollars, the guards at our transit house killed it and then Larissa, Peter, Dan and I carved it up. Erin decided to opt out of the carving and act as photographer. Carving up a pig is a lot of work! But it resulted in delicious kebabs complete with onions, green peppers, tomatoes and pineapple. The party was a success and the new group of volunteers seem to be a generally good group. The three of us also took a trip to see the Tatas out in Kate's former village, Nadoba. We spent a night out in my village and Erin and Dan ate the local grub and drank the local brew (tchouk). My neighbors loved them and since their departure have asked about their well-being constantly. They both got to meet my Togolese counterpart and suggested that I remark on my blog about how wonderful and motivated he is. It's true, and I guess I took that for granted. His work with Peace Corps, like mine, is as a volunteer, but his in the more literal sense as he doesn't get the 8 dollars a day. He is also the volunteer head of our Community Heath Agents and he works as a mechanic and works in the fields. As I said, I took this for granted. I think that was one of the best things about Erin and Dan's visit was that it made me see things in a new light and lent an outsiders perspective. We finished out our trip back in Lome where we went bargain shopping in the market and spent a day at the beach. I can't possibly thank them enough for coming here. It means a great deal to know that I will be able to go home and talk about this experience with people who have actually seen what I am talking about. I have not written that much about our trip because I have asked Erin and Dan to do guest posts on my blog. They have both said they will do it, so hopefully in the next couple of weeks they will add pictures and stories.
Well that's about all she wrote for now. I need to talk about Camp, but I feel that is a story for another post. I miss you all terribly and, as always I appreciate all your love and support. Keep in touch and take care! Until next time (which I promise will be soon!)
Friday, March 21, 2008
Welcoming Presents
Hey there everybody. Aren't you impressed with how quickly I created a new post? Well I just got back from two weeks worth of travel around Togo. I started by taking a car up to Dapong where Aimee and I went on our first group run with the two girls with whom we are in marathon training. We did the run at night, a first for Aimee me, and it was a bit disorienting to only be able to see a few feet in front of you. But the run was successful, and we had a fun night hanging out with volunteers in the Savannes region. The next day I took a car all the way down to Lome, it was a long ride, but I made it and got my visa for Ghana without a problem. Then I went up to my friend Nori's village for the night before heading to Pagala for the All Volunteer Conference. All Vol, as it is referred to by PCVs, was a lot of fun; I got to know people I had never met before, there was a talent show and a live auction to raise money, and people were chosen for various PC committees. I am now the new House Manager for the Kara region and the Kara representative to the Volunteer Action Committee (VAC). I am also the regional coordinator for Camp Espoire, which is the camp run by AED for kids infected and affected by HIV/AIDS. After All Vol the other CHAP volunteers and I stayed in Pagala for our In Service Training (IST). At out last training we decided IST should focus on Family Planning and Hygiene and Sanitation projects. It was interesting, but by the end of 4 days I was totally exhausted and ready to head back to village.
Whenever I am out of village for a long period of time, I kind of dread going back to my house for fear of what might be awaiting me. I dont think I have told these stories on past blogs, but it has reached a point where it needs to be shared. The first time I went away for an extended period of time, I came back and my house definitely possessed a rather pungent sent of death. I assumed that one of the mice I hear scurrying between my ceiling and roof had died. Unfortunately, the next night I was sitting on my couch and felt something brush my leg, only to find a totally flattened, dried out mouse carcass sticking up between the cushions. Gross. I put a plastic bag over my hand, picked the thing up and threw it outside. A few days later, I walked into my living room and found a live mouse huddled in the corner. He seemed very sluggish and disoriented and I was able to scoot him out the door with a broom. An hour or so later I walked out on my porch and found the mouse dead on my doorstep. Gross. Several weeks later I spent another few days out of village and without realizing it had left a few inches of standing water in my wash basin, which I keep under my water filter since it tends to leak. When I returned I found a drowned and decomposing mouse floating in my basin. I threw the water and the mouse outside and did my best to scrub out the basin. Again...gross. But wait...I'm not finished. One morning a week or so later, I awoke and wandered into my kitchen, I was a bit groggy so it took me a minute to figure out what I was looking at. There was some sort of smear on my floor and upon closer inspection I realized it was blood. I took stock of all my appendages and confirmed I was neither cut nor bleeding. I began to survey my kitchen and noticed another blood smear on my kitchen table. I began moving things around and when I picked up the aforementioned water basin, I found behind it a dead mouse with a sizable chunk removed from its midsection. In all of these cases I have been fairly surprised by my own reaction, mostly because I don't run screaming from the house. As I had done with the previous carcasses, I grabbed a plastic bag, put it over my hand, picked up the mouse, carried it outside, and threw it over the wall. But this mouse was a bit more disconcerting than the others. The previous three died of (somewhat) natural causes, but in this case I suspected foul play. The question I asked myself was, did the mouse get attacked outside and sought my house as a quiet and cozy place to die, or was the attacker inside my house? And also, how worried should I be about the type of animal that could take that big of a bite out of a mouse? The truth of the matter is, I will never know for sure, and I must simply hope for the former over the later. But wait...still not finished. When I returned from my latest cross-country adventure I was prepared to find another little Mickey who had met their doom in my humble abode. I arrived home yesterday afternoon, greeted my neighbors, went inside and began to survey my house. I checked under the kitchen table, behind the water basin, under my couch, under my bed, behind my dresser and in various corners and found nothing. I was breathing a sigh of relief and beginning to unpack my things when I noticed a fluffy pile of what looked like thistle flowers on my couch cushion. I thought maybe they had blown in through the window, or perhaps that some sort of critter was creating a nest on my couch. So again, I grabbed the first handy plastic bag and went to pick up the pile and throw it outside. However, once I got my hand over it, something sharp poked through the plastic and I quickly pulled back my hand. Upon closer observation of the fluffy pile I realized it had talons, and also a few little friends that had begun eating away at it. I remembered my neighbors had bought several baby chicks before I left for my trip, so I went outside and called my neighbor Ferdinand into the house (something I very rarely do) and told him I thought I had something that belonged to him. He and his wife seemed to think it was just as much of a mystery as I did. The best theory that we could come up with was that something, perhaps a large mouse, had killed the chick and dragged it into my house. So I think I have the situation figured out: The mice really like me. Like the mice in Cinderella they think of themselves as my pets. They find my house comfy and cozy, and if they know they are dying it seems like a happy resting place. Just as pet cats will bring their owners mice as a token of affection, apparently my pet mice left me the chick to welcome me home!
On an unrelated note, a few of you have expressed interest in getting involved with some of the things I am doing over here. I was sent this email by another volunteer; it is not something I am involved in, but it is a good cause and I thought I would pass it along. By no means should you feel obligated to do anything with this information, but if you are interested I know my colleagues would appreciate your contribution. The information is as follows:
Dear Family and Friends,
The Girls Bike Tourney began in 2006 with the main objective of raising awareness on the importance of sending girls to school. Each region of Togo, of which there are five, chooses ten girls to participate in a two-day training and a five-day bicycle tourney. The girls are trained on various subjects (HIV/AIDS, teenage pregnancy, forced marriage, child trafficking), they are trained on how to speak in public, how to ride a bicycle (a novelty for most), and how to create and perform educational skits. Armed with knowledge, a bike, and lots of energy, ten girls along with two Togolese homologues and two Peace Corps Volunteers spend the next five days biking and performing at schools, markets and village squares.
The transformation that the girls undergo is quite miraculous. Girls come in barely able to say their name to a group of their peers and leave having presented skits and question and answer sessions in front of hundreds of people. They gain a deeper understanding of major social problems and how to overcome them, self-confidence, and an overall greater desire to succeed. After the five day tourney, the girls return to their respective villages with their new bicycles and are expected to continue training and working with people in their communities.
Peace Corps Partnership enables friends and family of Peace Corps Volunteers to donate to projects that volunteers are trying to complete during their service. Volunteers first submit a grant application to Peace Corps Washington who then puts the project description on the Peace Corps website where interested parties are just a click away from donating.
As a Peace Corps Togo Volunteer, I ask those who are interested in donating to visit: https://www.peacecorps.gov/resources/donors/contribute/projdetail.cfm?projdesc=693-303®ion=africa
Love you all very much and am counting down the days until I am back in Ohio. See you soon!
Whenever I am out of village for a long period of time, I kind of dread going back to my house for fear of what might be awaiting me. I dont think I have told these stories on past blogs, but it has reached a point where it needs to be shared. The first time I went away for an extended period of time, I came back and my house definitely possessed a rather pungent sent of death. I assumed that one of the mice I hear scurrying between my ceiling and roof had died. Unfortunately, the next night I was sitting on my couch and felt something brush my leg, only to find a totally flattened, dried out mouse carcass sticking up between the cushions. Gross. I put a plastic bag over my hand, picked the thing up and threw it outside. A few days later, I walked into my living room and found a live mouse huddled in the corner. He seemed very sluggish and disoriented and I was able to scoot him out the door with a broom. An hour or so later I walked out on my porch and found the mouse dead on my doorstep. Gross. Several weeks later I spent another few days out of village and without realizing it had left a few inches of standing water in my wash basin, which I keep under my water filter since it tends to leak. When I returned I found a drowned and decomposing mouse floating in my basin. I threw the water and the mouse outside and did my best to scrub out the basin. Again...gross. But wait...I'm not finished. One morning a week or so later, I awoke and wandered into my kitchen, I was a bit groggy so it took me a minute to figure out what I was looking at. There was some sort of smear on my floor and upon closer inspection I realized it was blood. I took stock of all my appendages and confirmed I was neither cut nor bleeding. I began to survey my kitchen and noticed another blood smear on my kitchen table. I began moving things around and when I picked up the aforementioned water basin, I found behind it a dead mouse with a sizable chunk removed from its midsection. In all of these cases I have been fairly surprised by my own reaction, mostly because I don't run screaming from the house. As I had done with the previous carcasses, I grabbed a plastic bag, put it over my hand, picked up the mouse, carried it outside, and threw it over the wall. But this mouse was a bit more disconcerting than the others. The previous three died of (somewhat) natural causes, but in this case I suspected foul play. The question I asked myself was, did the mouse get attacked outside and sought my house as a quiet and cozy place to die, or was the attacker inside my house? And also, how worried should I be about the type of animal that could take that big of a bite out of a mouse? The truth of the matter is, I will never know for sure, and I must simply hope for the former over the later. But wait...still not finished. When I returned from my latest cross-country adventure I was prepared to find another little Mickey who had met their doom in my humble abode. I arrived home yesterday afternoon, greeted my neighbors, went inside and began to survey my house. I checked under the kitchen table, behind the water basin, under my couch, under my bed, behind my dresser and in various corners and found nothing. I was breathing a sigh of relief and beginning to unpack my things when I noticed a fluffy pile of what looked like thistle flowers on my couch cushion. I thought maybe they had blown in through the window, or perhaps that some sort of critter was creating a nest on my couch. So again, I grabbed the first handy plastic bag and went to pick up the pile and throw it outside. However, once I got my hand over it, something sharp poked through the plastic and I quickly pulled back my hand. Upon closer observation of the fluffy pile I realized it had talons, and also a few little friends that had begun eating away at it. I remembered my neighbors had bought several baby chicks before I left for my trip, so I went outside and called my neighbor Ferdinand into the house (something I very rarely do) and told him I thought I had something that belonged to him. He and his wife seemed to think it was just as much of a mystery as I did. The best theory that we could come up with was that something, perhaps a large mouse, had killed the chick and dragged it into my house. So I think I have the situation figured out: The mice really like me. Like the mice in Cinderella they think of themselves as my pets. They find my house comfy and cozy, and if they know they are dying it seems like a happy resting place. Just as pet cats will bring their owners mice as a token of affection, apparently my pet mice left me the chick to welcome me home!
On an unrelated note, a few of you have expressed interest in getting involved with some of the things I am doing over here. I was sent this email by another volunteer; it is not something I am involved in, but it is a good cause and I thought I would pass it along. By no means should you feel obligated to do anything with this information, but if you are interested I know my colleagues would appreciate your contribution. The information is as follows:
Dear Family and Friends,
The Girls Bike Tourney began in 2006 with the main objective of raising awareness on the importance of sending girls to school. Each region of Togo, of which there are five, chooses ten girls to participate in a two-day training and a five-day bicycle tourney. The girls are trained on various subjects (HIV/AIDS, teenage pregnancy, forced marriage, child trafficking), they are trained on how to speak in public, how to ride a bicycle (a novelty for most), and how to create and perform educational skits. Armed with knowledge, a bike, and lots of energy, ten girls along with two Togolese homologues and two Peace Corps Volunteers spend the next five days biking and performing at schools, markets and village squares.
The transformation that the girls undergo is quite miraculous. Girls come in barely able to say their name to a group of their peers and leave having presented skits and question and answer sessions in front of hundreds of people. They gain a deeper understanding of major social problems and how to overcome them, self-confidence, and an overall greater desire to succeed. After the five day tourney, the girls return to their respective villages with their new bicycles and are expected to continue training and working with people in their communities.
Peace Corps Partnership enables friends and family of Peace Corps Volunteers to donate to projects that volunteers are trying to complete during their service. Volunteers first submit a grant application to Peace Corps Washington who then puts the project description on the Peace Corps website where interested parties are just a click away from donating.
As a Peace Corps Togo Volunteer, I ask those who are interested in donating to visit: https://www.peacecorps.gov/resources/donors/contribute/projdetail.cfm?projdesc=693-303®ion=africa
Love you all very much and am counting down the days until I am back in Ohio. See you soon!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
A Funeral and a Marathon
OK, so let me start by appologizing for the delay in blogging. I was talking with a few second year volunteers the other day and mentioned that I just don't feel like I have anything interesting to say. Being bloggers themselves they sort of laughed; they explained that I have reached that point in my service where Togo has begun to lose its shock value. I realized they were right, my day to day life in Togo has actually become (gulp) normal. When I first got here and everything was new and exciting I didnt feel like I could say enough about my experience, but now that we are nearing 9 months in country (again, gulp) I have trouble thinking of what to share with all of you. However, since my parents have begun to receive concerned phone calls at their place of residence, I figure I better hop to it and reassure you all that I am indeed alive and well. That being said, I do have a few stories to share.
I was on the phone with my dad a couple of weeks back and I said something along the lines of, "Lama is a really happening place right now. There is a lot of activity since February is funeral season." I am guessing you are all having the same reaction he did, which was: "did you just say funeral season?" Yes, I did. Now allow me to explain. It's not that people are dropping like flies because it's February, but rather that February is when all of the families get together to honor and remember those they have lost over the last year. Also it is a time to honor the anniversaries of the deaths of important people in the village from as much as ten to fifteen years ago. Because February is in the midst of Harmattan people dont have work to do in the fields; all of the crops have been harvested and it is not yet time to plant, therefore people have more free time and more money than they do throughout the rest of the year. Let me be clear, bodies are buried as soon as the person dies (in case you were picturing some graphic storage scenerio), but the funeral itself is posponed. Funerals are probably the most well organized events in Togo. They are planned months in advance, family members come from all over the country, and they are at least three days long. I am sure you have gathered at this point that funerals here are nothing like those in the States. Instead of wearing black the entire family buys the same brightly colored pagne (fabric) and everyone has matching outfits made. Instead of being held in a church people gather at the home of the family. While funerals in America are usually somber, sad affairs here there is music and dancing and food and lots and lots of alcohol. In short it is more a celebration of life than an mourning of death and I have to admit I much prefer it. The funeral I attended was to honor my neighbor's grandfather who passed away ten years ago, but was somewhat of a big-wig in village. His first wife (I believe he had three, but I only met one), who is still living, bore eleven children all of whom now have families of their own, so there were hundreds of people in attendence. The funeral began friday evening and was still going strong by monday morning. I, of course, took breaks to sleep and sober up, but many people, mainly the immidiate family, did not. Drinking and eating at traditional celebrations, especially if you are white, is not optional. From your past vocabulary lessons you should remember that the local brew is called tchouk, it is served in gourds called calabashes, and the main dish is made by pounding yams into a gooey consistancy called fufu, which is served with some sort of very spicy sauce and eaten with your hands. Normally after one calabash of tchouk I'm already feeling fairly warm and fuzzy, but at a funeral one calabash is not only unacceptable, it is downright insulting. In America I am pretty good at holding my own, but in Togo the eight-year-olds can drink me under the table, so I spent three days straight being uncomfortably full of fufu and working very hard not to make a complete ass of myself infront of my entire community. In general I would say I succeeded in never being the drunkest (drunkest?) person in the room. I think the highlight was when this little old lady wearing reflective sunglasses and with leaves stuck on the forehead came over, sat on my lap, told me she was my grandmother, forced me to dance in the center of a huge group of people, and blew a kiss in my ear so loud I was partially deaf for the rest of the evening. I ate, I drank, I danced and I had probably the most fun I have ever had in my village...at a funeral.
The other bit of exciting news is that I have begun training for a marathon. Thats right folks, I, Lauren "do I want to go running? Of course and dont want to go running" Neidhardt, am training for a marathon. While I am becoming adjusted to life here and have started work on some small projects, a lot of my day is filled with absolutely nothing. It's easy to get into a funk and sometimes difficult to get out of it. I tried many times to start running in the States, but I always found excuses to quit. Here there are no excuses and I have found that on the days I run I feel about 200% better than on the days I dont. My overall mood has improved and the fact that I am training with three other girls is great motivation. The marathon is on September 28th in Ghana and ends in Accra, which means that my reward will be a plate of nachos and forzen margharitas and at this point there is very little I wouldnt do for real cheese and tequila. The proceeds of the race go to HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment as well as other health-related causes. If you would like more information, or want to come run it with me, you can Google the 2008 Accra International Marathon.
That's about all I have for you right now, but I will try to post more frequently from now on. For those of you who don't know, I am coming home in May for my Mom's graduation from Law School (because my mom rocks and has been working her butt off for four years and I am so incredibly proud of her!), so you should all come to Ohio and visit me. I fly home May 13th and will be around until June 9th. I miss you all like crazy and love you very much. Thanks for all your support and encouragement. See you soon!
I was on the phone with my dad a couple of weeks back and I said something along the lines of, "Lama is a really happening place right now. There is a lot of activity since February is funeral season." I am guessing you are all having the same reaction he did, which was: "did you just say funeral season?" Yes, I did. Now allow me to explain. It's not that people are dropping like flies because it's February, but rather that February is when all of the families get together to honor and remember those they have lost over the last year. Also it is a time to honor the anniversaries of the deaths of important people in the village from as much as ten to fifteen years ago. Because February is in the midst of Harmattan people dont have work to do in the fields; all of the crops have been harvested and it is not yet time to plant, therefore people have more free time and more money than they do throughout the rest of the year. Let me be clear, bodies are buried as soon as the person dies (in case you were picturing some graphic storage scenerio), but the funeral itself is posponed. Funerals are probably the most well organized events in Togo. They are planned months in advance, family members come from all over the country, and they are at least three days long. I am sure you have gathered at this point that funerals here are nothing like those in the States. Instead of wearing black the entire family buys the same brightly colored pagne (fabric) and everyone has matching outfits made. Instead of being held in a church people gather at the home of the family. While funerals in America are usually somber, sad affairs here there is music and dancing and food and lots and lots of alcohol. In short it is more a celebration of life than an mourning of death and I have to admit I much prefer it. The funeral I attended was to honor my neighbor's grandfather who passed away ten years ago, but was somewhat of a big-wig in village. His first wife (I believe he had three, but I only met one), who is still living, bore eleven children all of whom now have families of their own, so there were hundreds of people in attendence. The funeral began friday evening and was still going strong by monday morning. I, of course, took breaks to sleep and sober up, but many people, mainly the immidiate family, did not. Drinking and eating at traditional celebrations, especially if you are white, is not optional. From your past vocabulary lessons you should remember that the local brew is called tchouk, it is served in gourds called calabashes, and the main dish is made by pounding yams into a gooey consistancy called fufu, which is served with some sort of very spicy sauce and eaten with your hands. Normally after one calabash of tchouk I'm already feeling fairly warm and fuzzy, but at a funeral one calabash is not only unacceptable, it is downright insulting. In America I am pretty good at holding my own, but in Togo the eight-year-olds can drink me under the table, so I spent three days straight being uncomfortably full of fufu and working very hard not to make a complete ass of myself infront of my entire community. In general I would say I succeeded in never being the drunkest (drunkest?) person in the room. I think the highlight was when this little old lady wearing reflective sunglasses and with leaves stuck on the forehead came over, sat on my lap, told me she was my grandmother, forced me to dance in the center of a huge group of people, and blew a kiss in my ear so loud I was partially deaf for the rest of the evening. I ate, I drank, I danced and I had probably the most fun I have ever had in my village...at a funeral.
The other bit of exciting news is that I have begun training for a marathon. Thats right folks, I, Lauren "do I want to go running? Of course and dont want to go running" Neidhardt, am training for a marathon. While I am becoming adjusted to life here and have started work on some small projects, a lot of my day is filled with absolutely nothing. It's easy to get into a funk and sometimes difficult to get out of it. I tried many times to start running in the States, but I always found excuses to quit. Here there are no excuses and I have found that on the days I run I feel about 200% better than on the days I dont. My overall mood has improved and the fact that I am training with three other girls is great motivation. The marathon is on September 28th in Ghana and ends in Accra, which means that my reward will be a plate of nachos and forzen margharitas and at this point there is very little I wouldnt do for real cheese and tequila. The proceeds of the race go to HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment as well as other health-related causes. If you would like more information, or want to come run it with me, you can Google the 2008 Accra International Marathon.
That's about all I have for you right now, but I will try to post more frequently from now on. For those of you who don't know, I am coming home in May for my Mom's graduation from Law School (because my mom rocks and has been working her butt off for four years and I am so incredibly proud of her!), so you should all come to Ohio and visit me. I fly home May 13th and will be around until June 9th. I miss you all like crazy and love you very much. Thanks for all your support and encouragement. See you soon!
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