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.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
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).
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Bienvenue
After a little over a month in Togo, I've decided to get on the blog bandwagon. Every day is filled with a million anecdotes and at least two emotional rollercoasters, so it's been difficult to synthesize everything. The site I was using (weebly) isn't accessible here hence the switch to blogger.
My house is awesome. I have a veranda, perfect for hanging my hammock and two rooms. The walls are painted in beautiful shades of blue and green and have inspirational quotes drawn on each. Right now it's pretty empty except for a table and a cot, so when I return I'll have to seek out a carpenter or just get crafty. I also don't have electricity and my shower is 'under the stars.' Fortunately, before I left my dad gave me a solar panel so I won't be completely in the dark. But I'm getting pretty good at bucket showering and living by candlelight, so I think I'll be okay.
Everyone in my village, just like in all of Togo, are incredibly nice. Rudeness or even light brashness does not exist here. I spent my three days in village meeting everyone. Visiting the school was especially exciting. There are about 300 students and, including me, eight teachers. I visited on the last day of school when all of the students found out whether or not they passed for the year - so I'm sure we were all equally nervous, albeit, different reasons. I won't say who's nervousness was more understandable, but only one of us had to introduce ourselves in a foreign language to an entire student body.
The school itself has three giant classrooms and is without electricity or plumbing. There also are very few books and resources. However, amidst these challenges the students all seem incredibly motivated. The teachers and the director are also really passionate about teaching. Thus, I'm really excited to start working there in a few weeks.
Of course, until then I am focused on improving my language skills. Each day my French gets a little better, but it's constant work. And, of course, after French there is also Anufo, GamGam, and Ewe to conquer. As it's known for, the PC language training is really great and it helps that we live with a host family where we have to communicate solely in French.
My host family is simply amazing. I couldn't be luckier. The first day I met them was when we arrived in the village, Tsevie and we were lead into a paillot to a room full of families. We were given a sheet of paper then told to stand up in front of everyone and read the family name on the paper. Each family jumped up and gave us hugs and warm welcomes. We then danced in a drum circle for a bit. I kind of felt like this was an adoption, which is fitting as I've really grown fond of my family. I think a lot has to do with how supportive they are, as I've had to learn how to do everything but walk over again. The first few weeks I felt like such a baby. Besides my low French skills, I also didn't know how to do simple things like get water from a well, bucket shower, or wash my clothes by hand (which according to my family, I still don't do correctly. C'est la vie.) To make matters worse my younger brothers would walk me to school and pick me up everyday so I wouldn't get lost. Luckily, I have now mastered most of these skills and the geography of this village. Of course, in a week I move to Kpalime where I'll be with a new family and have a new map to learn. Which is bitter sweet, sweet because the rumor is they have actual burgers in Kpalime but bitter because I'm really going to miss this family.
En fin, I'm feeling at home here. The first week or two was pretty rough but I really like Togo. When I'm having a bad day I just walk down a path shaded by palm trees and am greeted by people, who all seem so genuine when they say "Bon arrive." I'm getting used to the church music that goes on all night and the roosters that wake up at 4 am. Training is making me feel prepared for teaching and communicating in general. And the other PCVS are awesome, as well. Go figure a group of people that all chose to live in Africa for two years would have a lot in common.
Of course, the hardest thing is witnessing the disparities between here and my home in the U.S. Sometimes it's just simply frustrating that there aren't things like streetlights or signs or garbage cans or stores. But most of the time, it's difficult to realize that living without electricity or living in a mud hut, is simply the way of life. It prompts me to reflect on the quote, "How can we live simply so that others may simply live?" I think of all of the luxuries of back home, like a refrigerator or plumbing, and it makes me wonder why does so much of the rest of the world lack these things.
To begin, I'm having a great time here! This evening I just returned from my post, Sagbiebou. I was there for a few days to meet my homologues, the school and students I'll be working with, and begin the process of moving into my house. In short, I love my village. It's located right after the mountain range of the Kara region, and is a series of rolling hills filled with donkeys and baobob trees. Driving through the mountains definitely made me miss guard rails! On the way back we saw about 3 overturned semis - scary, to say the least.
Anyways, when I first arrived in Sagbiebou it was a bit overwhelming. The Peace Corps car pulled to the side of the route where my entire village was waiting for me. They then proceeded to take all of my bags and carry them on their heads to the chief's hut, singing the whole way. There I was given the name Madam Fatima and introduced to just about everyone - or so I thought. What happened next was a parade to my house where even more people were. My house is in a compound with several other apartments (alongside chickens, goats, and donkeys). Everyone was waiting inside to greet me and help me move in. What a welcome!My house is awesome. I have a veranda, perfect for hanging my hammock and two rooms. The walls are painted in beautiful shades of blue and green and have inspirational quotes drawn on each. Right now it's pretty empty except for a table and a cot, so when I return I'll have to seek out a carpenter or just get crafty. I also don't have electricity and my shower is 'under the stars.' Fortunately, before I left my dad gave me a solar panel so I won't be completely in the dark. But I'm getting pretty good at bucket showering and living by candlelight, so I think I'll be okay.
Everyone in my village, just like in all of Togo, are incredibly nice. Rudeness or even light brashness does not exist here. I spent my three days in village meeting everyone. Visiting the school was especially exciting. There are about 300 students and, including me, eight teachers. I visited on the last day of school when all of the students found out whether or not they passed for the year - so I'm sure we were all equally nervous, albeit, different reasons. I won't say who's nervousness was more understandable, but only one of us had to introduce ourselves in a foreign language to an entire student body.
The school itself has three giant classrooms and is without electricity or plumbing. There also are very few books and resources. However, amidst these challenges the students all seem incredibly motivated. The teachers and the director are also really passionate about teaching. Thus, I'm really excited to start working there in a few weeks.
Of course, until then I am focused on improving my language skills. Each day my French gets a little better, but it's constant work. And, of course, after French there is also Anufo, GamGam, and Ewe to conquer. As it's known for, the PC language training is really great and it helps that we live with a host family where we have to communicate solely in French.
My host family is simply amazing. I couldn't be luckier. The first day I met them was when we arrived in the village, Tsevie and we were lead into a paillot to a room full of families. We were given a sheet of paper then told to stand up in front of everyone and read the family name on the paper. Each family jumped up and gave us hugs and warm welcomes. We then danced in a drum circle for a bit. I kind of felt like this was an adoption, which is fitting as I've really grown fond of my family. I think a lot has to do with how supportive they are, as I've had to learn how to do everything but walk over again. The first few weeks I felt like such a baby. Besides my low French skills, I also didn't know how to do simple things like get water from a well, bucket shower, or wash my clothes by hand (which according to my family, I still don't do correctly. C'est la vie.) To make matters worse my younger brothers would walk me to school and pick me up everyday so I wouldn't get lost. Luckily, I have now mastered most of these skills and the geography of this village. Of course, in a week I move to Kpalime where I'll be with a new family and have a new map to learn. Which is bitter sweet, sweet because the rumor is they have actual burgers in Kpalime but bitter because I'm really going to miss this family.
En fin, I'm feeling at home here. The first week or two was pretty rough but I really like Togo. When I'm having a bad day I just walk down a path shaded by palm trees and am greeted by people, who all seem so genuine when they say "Bon arrive." I'm getting used to the church music that goes on all night and the roosters that wake up at 4 am. Training is making me feel prepared for teaching and communicating in general. And the other PCVS are awesome, as well. Go figure a group of people that all chose to live in Africa for two years would have a lot in common.
Of course, the hardest thing is witnessing the disparities between here and my home in the U.S. Sometimes it's just simply frustrating that there aren't things like streetlights or signs or garbage cans or stores. But most of the time, it's difficult to realize that living without electricity or living in a mud hut, is simply the way of life. It prompts me to reflect on the quote, "How can we live simply so that others may simply live?" I think of all of the luxuries of back home, like a refrigerator or plumbing, and it makes me wonder why does so much of the rest of the world lack these things.
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