Bon Anniversaire!

What a difference a year makes... always learning about me...

I did it.  I survived one year in a most, let’s say, charming place on earth.  I left my home on June 1st and after a few days in Philadelphia of training, I arrived in Togo on June 4.

Optimism is good thing.  From my personal Zed drivers to my counterparts to my 16 women and to all the Togolese who have enriched my life here, you inspire me with your persistence and resilience and sense of hope and the ability to take each day one at a time.  I have learned that I am not so different from you in that I too, have a renewed sense of optimism every morning.  It is a good thing.  Ca va aller.

Saying “No” is difficult but a necessity.  I get asked for all kinds of things: cadeaux, the clothes I wear, the purse I carry, the money in my wallet, and for a bed to stay in for the night (that last item is a request from volunteers, not the Togolese!)  It is still not easy to say no to anyone for anything.  Du courage.

I am a foodie.  I have come to the conclusion that my palate has a taste for fine food.  And I want it often.  While I enjoy the occasional In-n-Out burger, I am most happy and content with my five course tasting menus prepared especially for me by talented chefs.  I so need a personal Togolese chef to cook for me.  Bon appétit!

I enjoy the finer things in life.  I do and can appreciate the not-so-fine lifestyle.  Heck, I took bucket showers with nasty water for eight months.  And I have slept in hotel rooms that make my skin crawl and with things that do crawl.  I have slept on hard concrete floor with biting ants.  So I can do it.  I just don’t want to.  I want my St. Regis bed (yes, it waits for me at home).  I want my fluffy white towels.  I want ice cubes.  But for now, I will endure.  Une bonne vie!

I believe people can only help themselves.  Give a man a fish; feed him for a day.  Teach him how to fish; feed him forever.  I will not participate with organizations that give fish, computers, books, bikes, or shoes without the ability for sustainability.  I will forever teach.  Peace Corps gives me that gift.   Merci beaucoup.

I am my own doctor.  I now have my trusty SHIT book.  While I didn’t correctly assess my gall bladder attack (that wasn’t in my book), I can treat pretty much anything.  Ha!  Or at least tell you what to do.  Watching Samantha clean her wounds (i.e. Sam on a bike vs. motorcycle – the zed won) was not fun but giving her instructions on what to do was easy: wash and rinse.  I think I winced more than she did.  Merde.

I have no humility.  Well, I have been known to change my clothes in my car in the middle of the day in a city parking lot.  That was when I was a desperate actress-wanna-be. 

But this is different.  I no longer care if you can hear my bodily functions and I mean any of them.  I don’t close the bathroom door even if you’re sitting two feet away.  I heave-ho my leg onto a motorcycle and if I were Brittany, the paparazzi would earn their keep.  I no longer care if you see me in my underwear.  I really don’t.  If you haven’t seen it, well then let me introduce you.  Bonjour!

There’s something to be said about clean bathrooms and toilet seats.  I have to have ‘em.  My friends state-side know to conduct bathroom reconnaissance before I consider using one.  It must smell clean and be clean.  I have learned to not drink when I know the only available bathrooms will be in the grass, concrete, or dirt.  I have urinated down my leg and onto my shoes for the last time, at least I hope.  Why are there no toilet seats in Togo?  They break.  It’s disgusting.  Merde (literally, this time).

Life as we know it cannot be described with words.  Togolese have no idea of what life is like outside their world and I know for certain, even after hours and hours of explanation, that I would not be able to accurately describe it.  Just like I know for certain that for those of you in the states, you will never have an accurate picture of my life here in Togo.  The only way is to experience it.  Venez chez moi!

I really know my friends.  They say that when you are in true need, your true friends will shine.  And boy, have they shone.  And new stars emerged from the distant darkness.  And then there are those that wink, just ever so gently – you have to really stare or you may miss it.  It’s good to know the difference.  Je vous aime.

I am forever a volunteer.  After 49 years of continued service for others, how will I ever stop my need and want for giving to others?  I don’t think it’s possible.  However, I will make smarter decisions and better choices.  Toujours une volontaire.

What does the future hold?  Possibilities.  Lots and lots of possibilities.  It is both a good thing and a detriment.  Choices.  There never has been and never will be anything that can hold me back from doing what I want to do.  I can do everything.  To decide on the want, however, seems to be the hardest choice of all.

And my life is all about the possibilities I create and the choices I make.  And about all I can learn about the human spirit along the way (most importantly, mine).  J’arrive!

After one year in Togo, I can say wow.  Wow to me.  Wow to the people who touched my life, here and back home.  Wow to my women’s group.  Wow.  Wow.  Wow.  (Do I sound like a barking dog?!)  But really, truly, all I can say is wow.  And to all the wow-ees to come my way.  My arms are open.  My heart is open.  The spotlight is on us.  Come on in.  Viens!  Viens!  Viens!

A day (or two) in the Togo volunteer life... goals 2 and 3...

1.       Katy, Samantha, and I went to visit the Dapaong reservoir (which is the most beautiful area I have visited to-date) and I asked a Togolese woman if she would take a picture of the three of us.  She obliged but then promptly asked for money.  She said she was ill and pointed to her hand which was missing a finger.  Sam (who had just fought the bike-moto battle) promptly pointed to her injuries and without missing a beat said something to the effect of, “Yeah, me too.  Are you going to give me some money?”  The woman was speechless.  Oh how I love you Sam.

2.      While in Dapaong, Katy and I went to buy bread.  The usual greetings were exchanged and then I overheard this man say something in French and I was in slow motion mode so there was a delay with the translation in my head.  After a pause, I realized the man had asked Katy, “Is she your mother?” Me.   Yeah, a common error.  Katy is 5 feet 9 ¾ inches.  I am 5 feet.  Katy is Italian.  I am Hispanic.  (ha, just checking to see if you’re reading.)  Yeah right, I am her mother you silly, silly man.

3.      The very next day, Katy asked her moto driver how old he thought I was.  He guessed that I was between 25 and 30.  Thanks for asking Katy.  You gave me a great birthday present.

4.      Sam taught me and Katy how to play pinochle.  I am hooked.  Does that make me old?

5.      Katy introduced me to the HBO series, “Game of Thrones”.   Oh-oh.  I want a dragon.

6.      I was asked to conduct a training session for Peace Corps trainers (who will train the new group of volunteers arriving in July).  You know your French is bad when the Training Manager tells you, “You can use English”, and then imploringly looks at you as if to say, “Please, speak English.”  I so love you Blandine.

The Simple Life

The good ol’ days…. I must be old if I am starting a sentence with those words.  Ah, yes, I am “older”.  In a few days, I will commence the last year of my 40’s.

I remember when...

·       My brother and I would spend hours fishing in a little creek near our home. 

·       We also rode our bikes to a 7-eleven when a full-size candy bar was only 10 cents.

·       Going to a drive-in theatre was so much fun.

·       If I wanted to use the phone, I had to pick up the receiver to make sure there was no one else using the phone (yes, we actually had a party line in West Virginia). And yes, we could listen in on each others’ conversations.

·       Someone would fill up my gas tank, check my oil, and wash my windows.  For free.

·       I’d dig up potatoes.

·       I typed term papers on a typewriter and used things such as ribbon, carbon paper, white-out, and my pillow to scream into when I didn’t leave enough room at the bottom of the page for my footnotes.

·       I sold the first IBM personal computer that had a 10 MG hard drive.  “More storage than you’ll ever need,” was what I would tell my customers.

·       I sold the first Mac personal computer in 1987.  And I loved it then as much as I love it today.

·       There was no such thing as the internet, cellphones, smartphones, and all that goes with it such as Yahoo!, email, or Facebook.

Ah, the good ‘ol days.  Maybe it's just the memories of my childhood and young adulthood.  I didn't have a mortgage, bills to pay, or so much responsibility?

So, how do my fond memories of years ago relate to my life here in Togo?  Well, there is something to be said about contentment.  While complacency may be a side-effect, there really is a wonderful aspect to being content.

I watch kids play with rocks with quite some creativity, drag broken toy cars or an empty can tied to string,  play with cards in some imaginary game, or play a fun hand-clap-feet-kick routine and laugh with such joy as they try to out-wit each other.

My point is, what I watch is very sweet and simple and wonderful.   And how I live is also just, well, simple.

There are no grocery stores.  There is one market.  There are boutiques that sell a handful of specialty items, but no Target, Walmart, Costco, IKEA, or Staples.  There is such simplicity to it all.  I can’t be confused or frustrated in deciding which item to buy, because in all likelihood, there’s only one choice.

And when I find joy by having lots of time to read a book or to know that it will take me one hour just to make it from one part of town to the other because I have to stop to greet everyone I know, I think I’m pretty lucky to have that time to be present.  I am not stressed.  I don’t feel rushed.  There’s no such thing as “being late”.

I wish you could be here to enjoy the simple life.  And to be reminded of a time that was so easy, never rushed, and full of contentment.

Reverse parade (per Ryan)

May 1 was Togo’s Labor Day.  Ryan and I heard about a parade and were determined to see it.  Well, we saw it!  About 12 – 14 organized groups walked or moto’d down the main rue.

Now normally in a parade, there are lots of people who stand along the streets to watch the parade’s procession.  They will wave to the people in the parade, take their pictures, shout their names, etc.

Well, we had a “reverse parade”.  All the people in the parade’s procession stared at me and Ryan (we were standing on the side of the road).  They waved to us.  They pointed at us.  They took our picture.  Some of the people recognized Ryan and some recognized me and so they naturally, shouted out our names to get our attention.

It was a reverse-parade with me and Ryan as its stars and I must say, it was spectacular.  It really was our 15 minutes of fame (and literally, the parade was about 15 minutes.)