Last year, PCV
Superstar Lizzy Dupont planed, organized and directed a two-day conference – Conférence pour Mieux Vivre dans Notre
Communauté – in her village. The conference, even though a success,
exhausted Lizzy and she had no intention of leading it again. Inspired by Lizzy’s
efforts and the benefits of the 2011 conference, people in her community
decided to make it annual with or without Lizzy. Whoa. SUSTAINABILITY!
And like all PCVs
in Togo, I received an invitation to present at this year’s conference on April
28.
Although each
presenter had the right to choose his or her topic, Lizzy kindly requested that
I present on family planning; my homologue to explain methods of contraception;
and PCV Maggie McRae to demonstrate proper utilization of condoms. We accepted.
Most Togolese
adults have at least heard of family planning – the words, the definition or
the importance. At the conference, I focused my presentation on the future, the
advantages of family planning (i.e. fewer children equals more resources for
each family member). Americans often consider the future, set goals, have
dreams, etc. Togolese, in contrast, seldom mull over the future and it’s a
setback. The average Togolese take each day one day at a time. Thankfully, this
mentality is slowly beginning to change. More and more high school students
dream, even plan on attending university after graduation. Moreover, recently
wedded couples no longer desire a family complete with 10+ children. Yes, some
might comprehend the importance of family planning, but regular presentations
and trainings are imperative. Similar to Togolese education, repetition is key
to memorization.
We [Maggie, my
homologue, a Togolese volunteer and I] left Dapaong early afternoon and headed
south on a bush taxi. Conference organizers had called both Maggie and I the
day before and urged us to arrive at the school in Sagbiebou before 5pm. Why? Because each presenter was assigned
to a host family in village and it’s proper to arrive before dark.
This was when the
fun began.
Spending the
night Chez No Clue often reminds me of boarding blind at university. You must
know what I mean. Those awkward first days of discovering one another’s quirks,
habits, personalities (multiple for some) and etiquettes…ring any bells?? Well
in a foreign country, it’s fairly similar only it’s A LOT more awkward—especially
if your stay doesn’t exceed 24 hours.
Surprisingly, I’ve
become accustomed to uncomfortable situations and random encounters. I suppose
I have Togo to thank. Thank you Togo! Friday, April 27 was just another day,
another random yet amusing experience.
We arrived at the
school in Sagbiebou shortly before 5pm. After having been told the family assigned
to host me, a guide led me to the house in BFE. It was very considerate of the
organizers to guide presenters to their designated families. Can’t imagine
anything more painful than to walk up to a house and say to the owners “Hello,
I’m sleeping here tonight.”
I stayed with the
village pastor, Pasteur KOMBATE, although I don’t think I actually met him. I
spoke to his wife mostly. She was sweet and lovely, a classic African big mama.
And she was Moba! For what limited Moba I know, she got a kick out of it.
After first
introductions – How is your family? Children? Husband? Work? Health? – the mom
offered me a chair. I sat and stared off into space for several minutes while
the family prepared my room. It’s not unusual for a family to offer up an
entire room, even their own bedroom for guests, especially Caucasian guests.
To my surprise,
the room had a bed and a chair. Nice! They also sprayed some sort of perfume in
the room. I couldn’t help but wonder what scent they hoped to cover up. Ah
well. Shortly there after, I set my personal belongings on the bed and returned
to my chair outside and watched. If you’re not a people watcher, don’t come to
Africa. It’s not only an art but also life! What
did I watch? Everything.
Since it rained
early that day, I watched as one daughter scoop out stagnant water from holes
in the compound floor. I gaped at the beautifully built mud houses, terrains
made of compacted red gravel and large tree silhouettes. I also studied the
animals in the compound. Well, I counted them first. Times like these, you’ve
got to be a self-entertainer. Maggie named all the animals she saw in her host
family’s compound. I counted mine. I first saw five chickens. Then I noticed
one goat, a dog, two guinea fowls and four pigs.
When all you’ve
got is time to think – since the family doesn’t talk to you – you often ask
yourself a plethora of questions. These questions commonly arise when someone
looks at you, smiles or laughs, but doesn’t speak.
What questions?
Do they think
they’re special because a white person is sleeping in their house? Do they like
my bright green pagne pants? Are they confused because I speak French, but I am
reading an English-language magazine? Are they wondering why I am writing on
this magazine? Why are they staring at my toe ring? Do they also believe that
anklets on a right ankle mean a woman is single? Is she married? (Why? You going to offer your 10-year-old
son to me?) Does she eat African food? (I
sure do!)
A DUCK! Boom. Any
more animals?
While I was
unaware of the dinner menu, I was surely aware of the dinner plan. That
is, the mother’s plan for me to eat alone at a clothed table with separate
cutlery and separate portions.
Although she had
no intention of dining with me, I insisted. She smiled, laughed and said she
would join me after she fed her children.
When she finally
sat down at the table, I had already finished one-and-a-half portions of
spaghetti with tomato sauce. I stared at my empty plate for a minute before I
gave in and added another half helping to ensure we ate together. Naturally,
two helpings of spaghetti weren’t enough. She insisted I eat more. I made a
sound, which translated into English meant “Holy balls, Mom, I’m full!” Nevertheless, I obliged. In addition to
the THIRD HELPING of spaghetti, she ordered me to eat the last sardine. I
respectfully refused and told her I already ate one and she must eat the other.
It’s only fair, right? So what did she do? She took off a sliver (amounting to
a tablespoon) and said I must eat the rest. I laughed, shook my head, removed
my plate from the table, and said I wouldn’t finish unless she took it all.
And so she did.
Ha ha. Sucker! Needless to say, she officially liked me after the battle over
who eats the last sardine.
The night got a
little exciting after dinner. A storm hit. A torrential downpour mixed with
violent winds nearly removed the tin roof. As I sat with the family indoors, rainwater
sporadically dripped on me. Pfpfpfpfpf. I didn’t mind at all because the storm
cooled the air.
After the storm
mellowed, I decided it was time for bed. It was time in part because I was
exhausted and in part because no electricity equals early to bed. Done.
The next morning
I woke up crossed. I was angry because the storm’s cool breeze didn’t last the
entire night and thus I woke up several times drenched in sweat. But mostly, I
was irritated and confused as to why nobody killed the dog that barked outside
the house from 10pm until 4:30am. WTF. Togolese are accustomed to sleeping
through anything and everything, but come on! It was ridiculous.
Although the dark
circles and bags under my eyes were evident, I told the mom I slept well. For
breakfast, she made me coffee (How did
she know?!?!) and placed a whole baguette (pain sucré) next to the cup. The coffee tasted like watered-down
skim milk with coffee flavoring, but it was drinkable. I might have been
exhausted, but the family was so pleasant I just couldn’t bring myself to show
the fatigue.
The day of the
conference was a bit crazy. Although my booth was informative, most spectators
seemed to be interested in contraceptive methods and the condom demonstration.
For lunch, all
presenters were ushered to the “reception hall” where Maggie and I were invited
to sit next to the prefect. Oh yes, we
are THAT important. Maggie sat next to me and I sat next to gendarmes with
AK-47s. “Hi…is that on safety?!”
Anything else??
No, not really.
Overall I think the conference went well. There seemed to be too many children
and not enough adults at the event.
I got a
certificate. Yay!
We left for our
return trip to Dapaong once the conference ended at 4pm.
Hope you enjoyed
this story.
Until next time…J
