Conference in Sagbiebou, Savanes

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