It is difficult to articulate this experience. It is like being born all over again. When I came to Togo I knew very little French and not another person. In two months, I have three families: my Tsevie family, my Kpalime family, and my Peace Corps family. I went from feeling completely vulnerable and alone to being surrounded by love, encouragement, and friendship from seemingly complete strangers. I didn't know how to do or say anything and was away from everything I understood, but found a sense of belonging. It's impossible to avoid being overly sentimental about such an experience. To be only eleven weeks away from feeling completely isolated, to this, is strange, confusing, and wonderful.
To say the least, it has all been unexpected. When I first committed to the Peace Corps I thought of it as an individual journey; in reality, it is anything but. I was thinking more about what I would do than who I would meet.
Tonight my Kpalime family told me that this is my home. So although I am leaving in two days, I am welcome here always and am a part of their family.
I talked to my sister who studies in Accra about how we both want to travel and experience the world. We both understood the difference of hearing about the rest of the world and actually seeing it.
We also shared how in the end it is important to be with family. We shared the difficulty of wanting to go on an adventure but the need and desire to one day return. We talked about how our mom will miss us when she returns to university and I go to post, but it is something we have to do. It all comes back to family. I thought about my own family and how I need to explore my curiousities about the world but part of me deeply wants to be with them. How eventually I will after I see this and that. It's funny how my sister here and I are so alike when at first glance the differences were all I could see.
The day after tomorrow I move to my post. I found out I won't have internet connection unless I travel to another village; thus, my blogging and what have you will be infrequent. I am excited, nervous, hopeful, worried, and everything else all at once.
The good news is, is that I know if I work hard everything will be alright. I just have to keep on moving forward because eventually wonderful and unexpected things happen. The key is to keep moving. It's not always easy - sometimes it is insanely hot, people laugh at my attempts to speak local or French, and I walk to chants of 'yovo.' Other times, in class students won't understand my accent or way of explaining things; or I will be missing the conveniance of just about everything back home: running water, a refridgerator, McDonalds - you name it. But with all that is bad there is good.
My post is a perfect fit. There is a lot of work to do and I have a lot of great counterparts to work with. The major goals are to improve English literacy, teaching strategies, and community attitudes towards gender. However, the last volunteer left me an awesome guide to numerous community and regional projects - so my hands will be full. I am excited.
After teaching in Kpalime for the past three weeks I can't wait to be in a classroom again. It's the best feeling in the world to see kids excited about learning and to feed their curiousities. I am really looking forward to getting to know my students and serve as a mentor. We have a saying here for teaching "It's better to be a guide on the side, than a sage on the stage." And I really do feel it's not only better but something I really want to be. Sometimes all people need to do great things is encouragement and direction.
To close, I am in love with Togo. It's not just how beautiful the mountains and palm trees are; or the warm weather or pate rouge; it's the hospitality to strangers, the way they say hello to everyone they pass on the street, and the way a silly American can find home here in a few short weeks (it's eleven to be exact, 95 more to go).
The only frustration is my inability to express myself here. I want to say more than merci beaucoup or akpe kaka, but as of now, I cannot. One day soon.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Thursday, August 15, 2013
C'est normal
Yovo, Yovo? Yep, that's me. Lesson planning over eggs with piment and a glass of pomplemouse? Why not. Chicken running through the classroom? Routine. Walking over fallen logs to cross a stream on the way home? Just another day in the life.
It's crazy how each day and the millions of antecdotes that happen along the way seem less and less bizarre the longer I'm here. After two months, everything from cooking outside to being without running water seems as if I've never known another way.
(Well, I remember it alright, but the pain of withdrawal isn't as great.)
Today marks the last week in Kpalime, yet another ending with a big beginning on the horizon. Next Thursday I move to my village and begin two years of service. As of the last few hours, I am pretty much set for my living arrangements. I got a mattress, gas stove, and a pillow - what more does a girl need?
Buying each thing takes a ton of time and energy, not to mention CFA, so it's a relief to be relatively done. The difficulty is, for example, in buying a pillow I can't just jump in a car and hit up Wal-Mart. I need to flag down a moto, articulate in French where I want to go, and bargain for the price. Then I need to find someone in the marche who sells a pillow or knows someone that does, and once again, bargain for a price. (C'est la prix yovo, n'est pas?) After, I need to find a way to transport everything back on a moto. Which again isn't just a simple matter of having enough free hands, but being able to balance while driving through curvy, dirt paths. Thus, right now it is nearly 20 o'clock and I am exhausted!
Tomorrow I resume teaching. Last week we had an awesome experience guiding a class through a M.A.P. activity. M.A.P. stands for Men as Partners. The point of the program is to discuss gender roles in our community and see how the community as a whole can work towards equality. Because this is a paternal society, when men are on board and working towards gender equality, there's greater opportunity for us to create change. Thus, for our MAP activity we wanted to begin the conversation about gender.
We had students walk to different corners of the room to reveal whether they agreed or disagreed with statements about gender. I learned so much about my students from their responses to questions like, "Are men smarter and stronger than women?" Or, "Who has a tougher job?" It was so exciting to see the students that were passionate about equality and feminism - and, for the responses that differed, it sparked so much energy in me to begin having more of these conversations with students and community members. It was simply very fun to see that kind of energy from students and about a topic I'm really interested in.
While tomorrow my class is focused on grammar - cheers to reflexive pronouns - I'm excited to be back in the classroom. Sometimes it can be frustrating here and I question the point of it all, but moments like the other day during the M.A.P. activity give me some clarity.
As for the moment, I'm crawling under my mosquito net and calling it a night.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Official
This past Thursday I officially became a Peace Corps volunteer! After two months of training we had our swear-in ceremony where the Country Director, the Togo Ambassador, current volunteers, and our host families welcomed us as PCVs.
At the ceremony I gave a brief speech in the language Anufo and had the chance to catch up with my family from Tsevie and my sister from Kpalime. Afterwards we celebrated until late in the night and I can't express how great it felt. To finally get to this point feels wonderful, exciting, and unbelievably scary.
So now I am in Kpalime for two more weeks of teaching before I head to my new home for two years. The good news is that everything that seemed foreign is now making sense, like how to get a moto ride or shop at the marche or get clothes made. I forget what life is like without bucket baths and fufu. I guess I'm almost integrated. The only bad news is that my French is still struggling. I'm optimistic though and I think if I at least have a good attitude it'll come along eventually, right?
While I'm going to miss my fellow PCVs so much I am super pumped to get to post. I can't wait to get started on projects and begin working in the school.
Until then I am slowly trying to gather things for post. Today I'm going to buy a gas stove and maybe some other household wares. What I'd give for a Target!
At the ceremony I gave a brief speech in the language Anufo and had the chance to catch up with my family from Tsevie and my sister from Kpalime. Afterwards we celebrated until late in the night and I can't express how great it felt. To finally get to this point feels wonderful, exciting, and unbelievably scary.
So now I am in Kpalime for two more weeks of teaching before I head to my new home for two years. The good news is that everything that seemed foreign is now making sense, like how to get a moto ride or shop at the marche or get clothes made. I forget what life is like without bucket baths and fufu. I guess I'm almost integrated. The only bad news is that my French is still struggling. I'm optimistic though and I think if I at least have a good attitude it'll come along eventually, right?
While I'm going to miss my fellow PCVs so much I am super pumped to get to post. I can't wait to get started on projects and begin working in the school.
Until then I am slowly trying to gather things for post. Today I'm going to buy a gas stove and maybe some other household wares. What I'd give for a Target!
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Teaching & Swear-In
Last week all of the trainees in my program, EGE (English & Gender Education), moved to Kpalime to practice teaching. The first week I taught at the MLK school, where class sizes were generally small (about 20 students) and in addition to English grammar we taught students about American holidays and sports. The MLK school's director had a vision for a school that was different than the norm in Togo but was unable to get others to agree with him and the curriculumn didn't change. However, after a few years selling and trading bicycles he ran into some wealth, and put it all into building his own school. Thus, the Martin Luther King, Jr. school was created.
This week I switched to the local public school where my class was about 50 students and the focus was just on English grammar and vocabulary. The second school will be similar to where I'll be working at post, where I'll have a class size ranging from 50 to 100. I'll also be using the same text book as this school at post, which is a bit dated (for example, a passage from the reading today was about an air hostess sending a telegram). Part of my job will be helping my post modernize the materials used. So perhaps, I'll be teaching about flight attendants sending texts instead :).
Jumping right into teaching an hour class was overwhelming , but after the second or third class it ran a lot smoother. Students in Togo act pretty much like students in American classrooms; such that, they love warm-up games like "Simon says," and crossword puzzles; they're not a fan of homework and they try sneaking games into class (we had to confiscate an etch-a-sketch this morning).
A difference is how great these kids are at English compared to, in at least my experience, with foreign language classes in the U.S. I barely learned anything in my High School French class, and these kids speak French and local language fluenty, and are now on their way to mastering English. In my class, quatrieme, they're still learning the basics but their ability to form sentences and comprehend new material is impressive. The U.S. should take note and start stressing the importance of foreign languages.
The big difference are the resources. Today about fifteen of my students had the text book; the rest couldn't afford a copy. Computers and projectors do not exist and all of my visual aids have to be drawn on khaki or the chalkboard (all that doodling as a kid finally pays off). Lastly, there isn't electricity and students sit 2 to 3 in a desk.
I was surprised how quickly it was to get over the hurdle of few resources. The great thing about teaching is that if you're energetic and can get students motivated, it's all you need for students to learn. While laptops and smartboards are convenient and make things easier, it's not impossible without them. I just need to get better at sherades for some vocabulary. I wouldn't mind a smartboard though :).
So while I'm loving teaching, I'm very excited to get a few days off. Tomorrow I head to Lome for Swear-In, where I'll officially become a volunteer! 37 people including myself flew from Philadelphia to Togo, and all of us have stayed the course. 12 are in my program , 11 are in CHAP, and 12 are in EAFS. In Lome we'll be shopping for things like mattresses and stoves for post. After we have our Swear-In ceremony where we each have to present ourselves in local language. My local language is Anufo; to give you a little taste, this is how you say "My name is.." : Bu fere n Lara. I would type the rest of my speech but Anufo has letters English doesn't use.
Anyways, that is what's up in Togo. For now I'm off to go play with the baby visiting my host family, Samuel, who is too cute for words.
This week I switched to the local public school where my class was about 50 students and the focus was just on English grammar and vocabulary. The second school will be similar to where I'll be working at post, where I'll have a class size ranging from 50 to 100. I'll also be using the same text book as this school at post, which is a bit dated (for example, a passage from the reading today was about an air hostess sending a telegram). Part of my job will be helping my post modernize the materials used. So perhaps, I'll be teaching about flight attendants sending texts instead :).
Jumping right into teaching an hour class was overwhelming , but after the second or third class it ran a lot smoother. Students in Togo act pretty much like students in American classrooms; such that, they love warm-up games like "Simon says," and crossword puzzles; they're not a fan of homework and they try sneaking games into class (we had to confiscate an etch-a-sketch this morning).
A difference is how great these kids are at English compared to, in at least my experience, with foreign language classes in the U.S. I barely learned anything in my High School French class, and these kids speak French and local language fluenty, and are now on their way to mastering English. In my class, quatrieme, they're still learning the basics but their ability to form sentences and comprehend new material is impressive. The U.S. should take note and start stressing the importance of foreign languages.
The big difference are the resources. Today about fifteen of my students had the text book; the rest couldn't afford a copy. Computers and projectors do not exist and all of my visual aids have to be drawn on khaki or the chalkboard (all that doodling as a kid finally pays off). Lastly, there isn't electricity and students sit 2 to 3 in a desk.
I was surprised how quickly it was to get over the hurdle of few resources. The great thing about teaching is that if you're energetic and can get students motivated, it's all you need for students to learn. While laptops and smartboards are convenient and make things easier, it's not impossible without them. I just need to get better at sherades for some vocabulary. I wouldn't mind a smartboard though :).
So while I'm loving teaching, I'm very excited to get a few days off. Tomorrow I head to Lome for Swear-In, where I'll officially become a volunteer! 37 people including myself flew from Philadelphia to Togo, and all of us have stayed the course. 12 are in my program , 11 are in CHAP, and 12 are in EAFS. In Lome we'll be shopping for things like mattresses and stoves for post. After we have our Swear-In ceremony where we each have to present ourselves in local language. My local language is Anufo; to give you a little taste, this is how you say "My name is.." : Bu fere n Lara. I would type the rest of my speech but Anufo has letters English doesn't use.
Anyways, that is what's up in Togo. For now I'm off to go play with the baby visiting my host family, Samuel, who is too cute for words.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Sweat
My volleyball coach in middle school gave me a book called "Don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff." So far I've been sweating a lot in Togo and not just because it's 90 degrees all the time.
Monday I have my final French placement test. In the past two months my French has gotten a lot better but I've never experienced anything more frustrating than the inability to communicate. Fortunately as the weeks have progressed I can articulate what I want and don't want, as well as basic conversations. But today when I was talking to one of my trainers, him trying to start a more complex conversation, I just couldn't. In English the conversation wouldn't be difficult, it just had to do with how my college major related to the work I will be doing at post. Simple, right? In French it felt like looking up at Mt. Everest and only wearing flipflops.
So to be blunt, it sucked and I felt stupid. I felt like sophomore year in Geometry class all over again and I just wanted to run back home and watch tv.
But unlike at home, after a bad day I couldn't just go home and be by myself. I also don't have a tv here. Plus, everywhere I go people notice me, sometimes shouting out "Yovo" or at the least, staring. At my host home I live with a big, wonderful family that wants me to feel welcomed, so sitting alone in my room is not an option. In sum, it's not high school.
Instead I took a moto to this Belgian restaurant and ate burgers with my friends. Maybe it was the distraction of English or finally eating something American, but life never felt better. When I came home my host mom gave me a hug and we talked for a few minutes. And life was good. Nothing was big or extravagent about today, but just enjoying an afternoon with friends over good food and feeling at home with my host family made me care less about the frustrations I had earlier.
I'm learning to live moment by moment because getting too caught up on one instance isn't worth it. Although talking in French class today was horrible and I have a million communication blunders every hour, I'm trying not to let it get to me. Maybe because in total it'd be unbearable or because I really do think it'll get better.
While teaching my first classes this week the importance of just rolling with the punches became so apparent. Occasionally during my first classes I would get caught up, not sure how to explain what the students didn't understand or running out of activities to do - but instead of freaking out about it, I just took deep breath and continued. In the end it worked out. I've been repeating the mantra, "If it's not alright, it's not the end."
I think that may be the only way to get through life. Difficult times are inevitable but you just have to keep looking forward because eventually it will be alright. You may sound like a complete moron trying to talk in a foreign language, but later that day you may stumble into a random Belgian burger joint, and hey, there's your silver lining.
In short, I'm enjoying the small stuff here in Togo - probably because I can't comprehend anything else ;).
Monday I have my final French placement test. In the past two months my French has gotten a lot better but I've never experienced anything more frustrating than the inability to communicate. Fortunately as the weeks have progressed I can articulate what I want and don't want, as well as basic conversations. But today when I was talking to one of my trainers, him trying to start a more complex conversation, I just couldn't. In English the conversation wouldn't be difficult, it just had to do with how my college major related to the work I will be doing at post. Simple, right? In French it felt like looking up at Mt. Everest and only wearing flipflops.
So to be blunt, it sucked and I felt stupid. I felt like sophomore year in Geometry class all over again and I just wanted to run back home and watch tv.
But unlike at home, after a bad day I couldn't just go home and be by myself. I also don't have a tv here. Plus, everywhere I go people notice me, sometimes shouting out "Yovo" or at the least, staring. At my host home I live with a big, wonderful family that wants me to feel welcomed, so sitting alone in my room is not an option. In sum, it's not high school.
Instead I took a moto to this Belgian restaurant and ate burgers with my friends. Maybe it was the distraction of English or finally eating something American, but life never felt better. When I came home my host mom gave me a hug and we talked for a few minutes. And life was good. Nothing was big or extravagent about today, but just enjoying an afternoon with friends over good food and feeling at home with my host family made me care less about the frustrations I had earlier.
I'm learning to live moment by moment because getting too caught up on one instance isn't worth it. Although talking in French class today was horrible and I have a million communication blunders every hour, I'm trying not to let it get to me. Maybe because in total it'd be unbearable or because I really do think it'll get better.
While teaching my first classes this week the importance of just rolling with the punches became so apparent. Occasionally during my first classes I would get caught up, not sure how to explain what the students didn't understand or running out of activities to do - but instead of freaking out about it, I just took deep breath and continued. In the end it worked out. I've been repeating the mantra, "If it's not alright, it's not the end."
I think that may be the only way to get through life. Difficult times are inevitable but you just have to keep looking forward because eventually it will be alright. You may sound like a complete moron trying to talk in a foreign language, but later that day you may stumble into a random Belgian burger joint, and hey, there's your silver lining.
In short, I'm enjoying the small stuff here in Togo - probably because I can't comprehend anything else ;).
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Family
Today is the last night with my host family. Back in June, which seems like ions ago, I remember being so nervous and overwhelmed moving in with the Azdejuns. One moment I was dancing behind my mother in a drum circle; the next, a PC Rover was dropping me and bags off at what felt like a random gate across from a pink church. My mind was racing going over whether or not I forgot a bag (I did, but all that was lost was found), desperately trying to come up with something French to say (Ca va?), and bewildered by all of the lizards everywhere.
That evening my dad showed me the different trees in our compound - avocado, meranga, coconut - and my mother showed me the goats and where the water was drawn. As the sun went down I joined my siblings around my mother and the charcoal stove as she explained what each ingredient in the dinner was. It was insanely hot between the heat of the day and the fire. I sat on a tiny wooden stool wondering how a kid from Wisconsin ends up at this exact moment. The music from the church across the street was loud, percussions and voices in Ewe; loud, but beautiful. I slowly started to feel at home.
My family made it easy to feel comfortable; my room was a beautiful shade of blue and my mother spoiled me with boiled water for my bucket shower and incredible dishes, such as pate rouge and fufu. My siblings, albeit quiet, smiled and nudged me in the directions to go. My younger brother would walk me to and from school the first few days until it was time to find the way alone. Although I got turned around in the paths quite a bit and it ended up taking me much longer than it should have, I eventually found my way home - in the corner of my eye I could see my younger brother hiding behind a tree, he had been tailing me making sure I figured it out. I came into the family so dependent, like a baby; but slowly, it has all sort of come together. Okay, I still can't do a lot that the Togolese can - but I'm getting there.
When I first met my family my level of French was embarassing. In addition, I was incredibly nervous so I could muster even less than I comprehended. My mom kept saying in French, "Each day, a little and a little, it'll improve." Thanks largely to them it did.
Before leaving I had put together a box of gifts to give (my real mama, had sent me some gifts to give, as well). I hadn't expected that before I even got a chance to give it to them they would have given me a gift. They bought me a beautiful dress to match my sister and paid a photographer to come take a photo of the family. (They also had given me a box of oranges and cookies for my post visit a week prior). And this is on top of cooking three meals a day for me and helping me with most facets of life. When I gave them their gifts, they loved it, of course, but I could hardly feel like it was enough.
In short, I'm going to miss this family very much. It's not goodbye, as they are going to come for my Swear-In Ceremony and I'm sure I'll be back in Tsevie sometime in the next few years, but, I am moving out. Now it's time to move onto a new village, where I will live with a new family for a few weeks until I return to my own house in Sagbiebou.
In June, saying goodbye to my family was the hardest experience I've ever had and being away from them right now is immensely difficult. But it's a pretty cool experience to meet strangers and become family in a land very far from home. I think it says a lot about humanity that we're able to care for others, like they are our own, even though we look different, speak different languages and have no obligation based on blood or marriage. I'm happy when I hear my Togolese mother call me her American daughter.
(Blame the sappiness on the Malaria meds).
That evening my dad showed me the different trees in our compound - avocado, meranga, coconut - and my mother showed me the goats and where the water was drawn. As the sun went down I joined my siblings around my mother and the charcoal stove as she explained what each ingredient in the dinner was. It was insanely hot between the heat of the day and the fire. I sat on a tiny wooden stool wondering how a kid from Wisconsin ends up at this exact moment. The music from the church across the street was loud, percussions and voices in Ewe; loud, but beautiful. I slowly started to feel at home.
My family made it easy to feel comfortable; my room was a beautiful shade of blue and my mother spoiled me with boiled water for my bucket shower and incredible dishes, such as pate rouge and fufu. My siblings, albeit quiet, smiled and nudged me in the directions to go. My younger brother would walk me to and from school the first few days until it was time to find the way alone. Although I got turned around in the paths quite a bit and it ended up taking me much longer than it should have, I eventually found my way home - in the corner of my eye I could see my younger brother hiding behind a tree, he had been tailing me making sure I figured it out. I came into the family so dependent, like a baby; but slowly, it has all sort of come together. Okay, I still can't do a lot that the Togolese can - but I'm getting there.
When I first met my family my level of French was embarassing. In addition, I was incredibly nervous so I could muster even less than I comprehended. My mom kept saying in French, "Each day, a little and a little, it'll improve." Thanks largely to them it did.
Before leaving I had put together a box of gifts to give (my real mama, had sent me some gifts to give, as well). I hadn't expected that before I even got a chance to give it to them they would have given me a gift. They bought me a beautiful dress to match my sister and paid a photographer to come take a photo of the family. (They also had given me a box of oranges and cookies for my post visit a week prior). And this is on top of cooking three meals a day for me and helping me with most facets of life. When I gave them their gifts, they loved it, of course, but I could hardly feel like it was enough.
In short, I'm going to miss this family very much. It's not goodbye, as they are going to come for my Swear-In Ceremony and I'm sure I'll be back in Tsevie sometime in the next few years, but, I am moving out. Now it's time to move onto a new village, where I will live with a new family for a few weeks until I return to my own house in Sagbiebou.
In June, saying goodbye to my family was the hardest experience I've ever had and being away from them right now is immensely difficult. But it's a pretty cool experience to meet strangers and become family in a land very far from home. I think it says a lot about humanity that we're able to care for others, like they are our own, even though we look different, speak different languages and have no obligation based on blood or marriage. I'm happy when I hear my Togolese mother call me her American daughter.
(Blame the sappiness on the Malaria meds).
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