The Art and Science of Gifting

To gift or not to gift. People here, like people everywhere, love gifts. They love to receive them, and when they give them it is a very serious gesture not to be taken lightly. Take the following interaction about gift giving:

1) Each day it is inevitable that someone (or ten someones) will say the word cadeau to me. Cadeau means gift in French. The conversation can include ‘hellos’ and ‘how are you’s before the word is said, but many times it is simply “Yovo, cadeau.” I would need to be a billionaire (in francs) to be able to afford to give gifts to everyone that asked. You may be thinking, “No no, maybe being a millionaire would be enough.” I thought the same thing until I tested the theory.

I bought some gum, meaning 50 pieces or so. Within a minute or so a child saw me carrying something and said, “Cadeau.” Note there is no question mark there. It is never really a question; it is more of an instruction. I replied, “Bien sur!” meaning of course. I gave the child a piece of gum. Within 10 seconds there were 7 other children and 3 adults wanting the same thing, and by the time I had given them all a piece of gum, many of them had switched hands for another, and the children even went as far to say that they had not gotten one yet. By this time there were an additional 10 people who had walked upon the scene or came to get whatever was being given when they saw the crowd. It is worthwhile to mention that this crowd was completely age and gender independent. Tiny children and elderly men and women were all interested in having a piece of gum. Needless to say, my bag of gum did not get anywhere near my house.

Before going on to the next example I would like to also mention that I currently cannot walk down that street without people asking for gum.

Here in Togo it is important to always say the right things. Sometimes the words themselves are more important than the meaning behind them or the intention before them. Take the following interaction about gift receiving:

2) It was lunchtime so I made myself a big plate of pasta with some bread. I was just finishing when a friend came by. I suggested we go for a walk and away we went. It wasn’t long before we came across a birthday party. It was twelve or so people dressed well and enjoying lunch together. One of the people I was familiar with and he beckoned me over. He had me introduce myself to the people there, and then I was invited to toast to the gentleman having the birthday. I am not a wine drinker by nature, but there is no harm in toasting to someone’s good health on their birthday.

By the time the toasting was complete chairs had been brought for me and my companion. We sat and enjoyed the conversation for a few minutes when we were presented with plates to take part in the food. The food consisted of a very spicy rice dish and a cold salad. I will not tell you what I did just yet, but think carefully about what you would do. I had just eaten a heavy lunch minutes before, I am not partial to spicy foods and I cannot have cold salads here because the water used to wash the food is not good for me to drink. Would you explain that you cannot eat the food? Would you explain that you had just eaten? Regardless, here is the correct answer, which I will admit I did not use because it simply did not occur to me: Accept the food. Accept all of it. Look it over, poke at it, mention that it is delicious and you are lucky to have it, and then proceed to explain that you are full and satisfied and don’t eat it. Yes, waste the food is the right answer in a country where there it not enough food to eat. I told you, the Togolese are serious about their gift-giving.

I do not yet have the knack of Togo, but I am learning!

One week down...103 to go!

Hello again and welcome back! I have been living at my beach post for a whole week, and let me tell you that life is a little bit different than it used to be.


The wall of children welcome you, too

To get my laptop more acclimated to the environment, I dropped it face down in the sand. The keyboard is just like a Togolese Cyber Cafe keyboard now, meaning it is no longer working as expected.

I am now in a good routine in the mornings. I wake up and immediately pull water from the well for a shower, the kitchen and my toilet. This makes sure that my day can zoom right along uninterrupted. I tend to spill my well water, so I like to get all that out of the way right off the bat. I then shower, sweep my house and do laundry or dishes if need be. I then check my email (cloud cover permitting...cellular Internet is a bit finicky sometimes) and write responses, then finish my previous day's journal entry.

By this time I need a nap, but I push forward with the drive and ambition of a Peace Corps Volunteer and begin to make something to eat. It still amazes me how long simple tasks take here. Back in the USA I would have all this slapped out in an hour, but here it takes me three or more.

The afternoon always has a bike ride along the beach and tasks with my counterpart. I try to talk to people whereever I go so they will get used to me being around. As night falls I have dinner in town at a little restaurant and buy my bread and fruit for the next day. Eating out is an interesting experience. Generally you can get a plentiful pasta or rice dish with a big drink (be it beer or soda) for $2. That's affordable!

I generally go to bed at a very reasonable hour. Not having a TV, radio or refrigerator really changes your routines, but I have no complaints. The people are generally very nice, the food is good, I have the things I need and life is continuing on.

A quick shout-out to all the Volunteers who left this month. Congrats on your service completion and enjoy the crazy variety of things available back home. Don't forget us back here in Togo. You wanted packages, so do we. : )

A note about packages: Please see the updated request list to the right.

Bad Support System, BAD!

There are only a few days left in Stage (training). Wednesday we leave for Lomé and Thursday we will all officially be Volunteers. The two-year adventure is about to begin in earnest, and I am very excited about it. Just me, myself and I on the beach of Agbodrafo offering computer assistance to people without computers...or something like that.

That being said, I went ALL of Stage without a single letter or care package. I am disappointed in you all, and don't try to use the old "but I emailed you" excuse. Technology is no good reason to abandon those of us that moved our lives to Africa.

Get on the ball! Go buy a pen, and some paper, too. I want to see some snail mail! Oh, and um, sorry that sending me mail is wildly expensive. I cannot really control that. I still recommend sending the cheapest air mail padded envelope possible for sending stuff. I think that might be as cheap as ten bucks. Some families are sending Priority Mail Flat Rate boxes and the prices are $30-$50. That is just out of hand. By the time it gets here you will have sent the most expensive beef jerky (or whatever was in the box) ever!

A reminder that a letter in a normal envelope is only a dollar or so. Later, gators!

Shiny Food

When I lived in Vegas there was a little diner that the people I worked with liked to eat breakfast at once in awhile. I think it was called Skinny Dugans. I didn't eat there a lot because they served shiny food.

Shiny Food - noun - food that is shiny. Okay, a bit more defining may be needed. Some restaurants serve many dishes, and every single one of them is shiny. Denny's has perfected this. Shiny eggs, shiny bread, shiny hanburgers, very very very shiny French Fries, and so forth. When people tell me they ate at a 'greasy spoon' I automatically think shiny food.

Here in Togo shiny food is king. Last night I had a plate of shiny spaghetti, with a shiny tomato sauce that was enough oil that it started to separate, with shiny yam fries on top. (A note on yam fries - if you like french fries, you would REALLY like yam fries, Superior in every way.) I am growing more accumstomed to shiny food, but the next time I am in Vegas, I will not be going to Skinny Dugans.

How well do you wash clothes?

I can tell you this: there is a country here in Africa filled with children ages 7-17 that can wash a circle around you, wash you in the circle, then wash everything else approximately three times better than you did. Now I am not saying that to discourage you, I am just saying that if you come to Togo...like I did...and you think you are going to wash your clothes, be prepared to get schooled.



Everything Americans do here is funny. I mean everything. I can walk out my door and saunter over to some kids, teenagers or adults and then proceed to do or say anything, and I can expect laughter in response. I can get a laugh climbing onto my bike or peeling a banana. I can get a laugh trying to greet someone or when I get frustrated with the red sand that is constantly staining my shoes.

Now imagine how many laughs I generated when I was hand-washing clothes in front of the hands-down World Champions of Clothes Washing. Yeah, even more than that. But I did learn how you can get out any stain or dirt with a bucket, some water and a bar of soap, and how my clothes are more resilient than I ever thought possible.

Needless to say I am happy to pay a local teen to wash my clothes. They are simply the right person for the right job. Well, that and if they see me doing it myself they are just going to come over and re-do everything I did whilst shaking their head in disbelief for no pay at all. If I pay them I can sleep at night and I don't get nearly as depressed with my dramatic lack of skills.

The Beach House

Well, I've spent a week at my new post and I have to tell you it is definitely a change in the norm. You can hear the ocean all the time, the beach is under a minute away and the people were very nice. Just sitting watching the waves has not yet lost interest for me, and I did it a lot. For someone who has lived near the mountains his whole life this is a whole different altitude. I would mention it is also humid, but I think it goes without saying. It will be hard to go back to training for the next three weeks knowing what I am missing, but I am sure it will all pass quickly and I will be back before I know it.

Ziploc bags. That is the answer. I asked everyone and their brother what they were most happy they brought before I shipped out and didn't get many definitely answers. Here is mine. Ziploc bags come in handy all the time. I brought bunches, and thank goodness I did. If you are reading this and wondering what to bring...you get the picture. Oh, also bring dish towels. Very very useful in so many situations. In fact, bring all the towels you can. It just makes you feel good. Maybe this is why the towel was so important in Hitchhikers Guide...

Another Stagiare went home, but this time by choice. I really do feel that this experience is not for everyone, and when you get to your post by yourself the rubber really hits the road. I wish her the best and will miss her. On the bright side tomorrow a Stagiare returns, bring our total back up to 27.

Soccer is very big in Africa...and every of the part of the world that is not the United States. This year's World Cup was extra huge because Africa was hosting. The people of my quartier of the village gathered in the street and watched the final game together on a big projected screen. I was seated with a few notables and my counterparts in the center of it all and had a great time. On a soccer note, what a game! Wow.

My sense of direction here is still a mess, but I think I am catching on. Having the ocean by South all the time will help, too.

A few notes...

I have been pretty awful at mentioning what it's like here. I was reading the blog of another trainee, and she is doing a fantastic job. Here it is:

We have had 2 people go home already out of 29. Well, technically 3 out of 30 if you count the one person that did not show up at all. One girl got hurt playing soccer and was sent to the US for repairs. She will likely not be back this time, but can come back later and do it all again. The other trainee had his dad pass away suddenly and flew back. He is returning, I believe, but I cannot imagine how hard that must be. I suppose that life goes on while we are in Togo, and I think it is quite rude that you all are not simply putting everything on hold to wait for us. Sheesh.

This coming weekend I will get to see my post up close and personal for one week. That is awesome, and I am excited for the change. I hear that you can see the ocean from my roof. I hope that's true.

I bought a marmite (look it up, I'm not translating. I like the word marmite better)and a sauce pot, and some other things, too. I own buckets (literally...three of them) here in Togo. I am amassing a small empire. I am haggling the price of this empire with great success (read limited success) and expect that soon I will have to be taxed as a separate country.

What do we do in training:
We study language (French or local dialect) two hours at a time. We learn how to take care of ourselves past the normal 'get a band-aid' answers. We learn about Togo, it's economics and it's people. We learn cultural differences so we won't be nearly as offensive as we guaranteed to be. We learn how to fix almost anything on our bikes. We visit local shops to see if we can do simple tasks like ordering clothing at a tailor. We practice our French on the poor unsuspecting Togolese people who put up with us each day. We wash our own clothes by hand. We bathe using a bucket. We eat wonderful food in large quantities. We think about home and what might be going on there. That's not really a training thing. I assume that may happen after training as well.

The time has come for care packages. Go buy a 5x7 padded envelope, throw a few rolls of Mentos in it with a few real deal Q-Tips, then maybe pen a few words and add anything else that you might think I would need...that won't melt. : )

Okay, bye.