Some visual aids for your delight

I rode the moto down this road!!!! OH YES!

Me helping my host sister Patience to make fufu, a local dish made up of mashed yams in this spicy tomatoey meat soup. I'm getting my mash on right here.

Some of the kiddies I work with - the one on the right is Grace, my host sister

My house is just up on the left

My humble abode (excuse the messiness)

The courtyard of our house - everyone just hangs out here at night, very fun

I want a motorbike

Moto taxis. They're amazing. I want one badly. Not a taxi, a motorbike.

I didn't realise that the need for speed was in my blood - I'll get around to posting pictures soon enough but WOW they're awesome! You sort of feel like you're going to die or fall off, but once you get past that, it's unbelievably fun. The first time, I clutched onto the driver the whole time, now I'm all about 'no hands'. Wow. I really can't get enough.

Pictures. Coming soon. I promise.

When in Lomé...

Date: 25 Nov 2007
Location: Home, area of Adidogomé, Lomé (pronounced Lo-meh), Togo
Time: 11.50 a.m.

WARNING: this is unlikely to be a short post. In fact, I can guarantee it won't be.
WELL, so yes, I'm still alive. It doesn't exactly feel like any of this is real. I've been meaning to get online for the past few days but I didn't realise how much of an ordeal that actually is. Not only do I have hardly any control over my schedule, but I still have no idea how to get anywhere, and even if I had a general idea, the French barrier has proven to be more of a challenge than I expected.

I suppose I should make an attempt at some chronological order since my last post. Okay, so met up with my folks in Dubai. The reunion with Mama wasn't as hilarious as I expected, but it was funny seeing as she still didn't see me even though I was completely in her face - she just went straight in the opposite direction. And then I frantically packed up my stuff and ran after her. We then met up with my dad at about 1pm, had lunch, hung out, made up for months and months of lost time, and I got to feel like a 10 year old again. It was great.

As I expected though, it was really really hard coming to terms with the fact that I had to leave them and then start this journey of unknown ends. I was terrified. I mean, actually, terrified. Suddenly, the thought of "missing" my flight and just going back with my parents was the most appealing course of action. I honestly and truly was ready to just turn around and forget about the whole thing.

The flights were fine, it was all very surreal since I was exhausted out of my brains and also just couldn't believe that it was finally happening. When I arrived in Lomé airport, I was struck by how different the landscape is to anything I've ever experienced. The earth is this really deep, rich terracotta shade, and when it's wet, it's pretty much crimson. Incredible. And another thing that I noticed was how there are these tall, grand palm trees everywhere, lining the streets, in the middle of markets, and even in the courtyards of houses. The picture that this landscape created made it very obvious to me that I was no longer in the same part of the world. And the HEAT, oh my GOD, the heat. For the first few hours, I tried to fight it, by fanning myself with a book, patting my face with a tissue, trying to stay in the shade, taking multiple "showers" (big bucket, small bucket, use small bucket to scoop water out of big bucket and pour over self), and the like. I soon learned that it was better for my sanity to just surrender to the heat. Yes, I'm going to be constantly hot and sweaty, but I figured I might as well just soak in it since I don't get this kind of climate all the time. It's a little disgusting, but you just have to get on with it.
Another thing I quickly learned is that you really really can't be high maintenance at all. You can't even be medium maintenance. Make-up, hair products, skin cleanser are all things of the past, my friends. On the first morning I walked out of my room to wash my face, carrying my "Apricot Exfoliating Scrub" and felt extremely ridiculous. Scrub shmub. Seeing as washing my face now involves a plastic cup of water and just doing it in the courtyard with everyone else, I'd feel really stupid trying to "massage gently into skin" and then "rinse well with warm water". Hmm. No. I even feel a bit stupid putting moisturiser on.

You know... when I first arrived at my host family's place, I was still really dazed, and when the time came to go to the bathroom or take a shower, I don't know why I didn't react as much as I'd expect myself to. The first toilet I went to had no flush, and I had no idea what to do (the next time, my host mother, Clara, gave me my key to my own toilet with a flush). It must've been funny to watch me with my bar of soap and cup of water, trooping down to the toilet, trying to act like I knew exactly what I was doing. Even with taking the bath. I mean I realise this is getting really into details but to me, it was the first time I had to just suck it up and deal with it. I got into the shower, expecting something basic like what you'd use at a school camp or youth conference or something. Ohhh no. No no. Hello bucket. I then stared at it for some time. It stared back. I looked around me. The room was about 1m x 1m, drain in the corner, I felt like I was on candid camera, with an audience waiting to see what I was going to do. I stepped up. You better believe it. Making faces to myself the whole time, wanting to burst out in laughter because I just couldn't take myself seriously - it was probably the only thing I could do to stop myself from crying. I still didn't believe that it was actually happening. It's a good thing I was in so much shock, otherwise I probably would've thought about it all too much, and would've become too self-aware and then copped out.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not totally adjusted to everything, and I'm still having trouble as it hits home more and more. It's difficult. This is so different to what I know, and I deliberately have to force myself not to think too much about people that I miss or my daily routines, comforts, conveniences, because once I start doing that, it's a downward spiral for sure. This morning I let myself entertain such thoughts and came dangerously close to calling my travel agent and telling her to change my flights so that I could leave NOW.

Okay, so, my life. My host family is incredible. Even if whatever I experience during the day is particularly difficult or if anything upsetting happens, as soon as I come home I feel at ease and comfortable. They're unbelievably hospitable, and warm, and treat me like their daughter/sister. My host mother was really worried when she gave me some food to eat because apparently the last intern that stayed with them had some dramas with the food and survived solely on bread for the whole 2 months. But I coped. It was actually pretty good. Last night I had fufu, which is a local dish made of mashed yams compacted into an oval ball, and then served in this spicy meat soup, AND you have to eat it with your hands, which is awesome, because it's got a play-dough consistency, very fun. For lunch today they're making something called akume, which is similar to fufu but has maize and corn in it as well. Should be interesting. It's funny, this morning, Clara asked me if my stomach was okay after the fufu last night, and I said I was fine, so she looks up towards the heavens, and says "Oh glory to God, you can eat our food, I like you!" Hah. I reminded her that I do have African blood so I'm basically designed for it. I used the same excuse when they told me to get out of the sun and suggested I sit in the shade.

I think they may have had different experiences with previous interns, because they're always really surprised when I bring my food out of my room (which they put there) and sit on the veranda with them and eat, or if I sit on the ground, or eat with my hands or whatever. Even yesterday, me and some of the girls had to go somewhere in a taxi (there were 7 of us), so I told one of the girls to come and sit on my lap, and they all gasped and started laughing. I asked why, and my host sister, Patience (who is amazing by the way) said "Oh.. they are saying that in Togo we do this but Yovo [Togolese word for 'white person'] never do it".

That's one thing that's taken me some getting used to. EVERYWHERE I go, I hear "Yovo". Even if I'm around the people I'm working with or the family, they'll be talking about me and referring to me as "Yovo", and it's obvious they're talking about me, and I can't do anything about it. The other night, Patience and I were walking through the village in the evening, and the schoolchildren had just finished, and I swear, every 2 seconds, a child would giggle and shout out "Yovo!" and wave. Often, out of nowhere, a kid will just come up to me and hug me and say "Bonjour Yovo". A lot of the kids even know my name because they're all involved with Carrefour Tiers Monde (CTM - the NGO I'm working for) - so I'm loving the sporadic hugs from adorable kids sprinkled throughout my day. Guaranteed to eliminate any homesickness or sadness.

Man I wish I spoke French. A lot of things would be so much easier. I actually hate being in a situation where everyone's having a conversation and I'm sitting there idly, totally unaware of what the heck is going on, unable to laugh at the jokes, and just waiting until someone feels the need to translate. A couple of days ago it really got to me so I think I may have gotten snappy and demanded that someone explain to me what was happening - I'm more proactive about it now. It'll actually drive me insane if I don't say anything. I'm picking up a few words and can string a few sentences together, but it's still pretty pathetic watching me stutter my way through it. The kids I'm working with don't speak English at all, which means I always have to have an interpreter with me, and the interpreter I do have doesn't speak much English as well. I'm sure it'll be okay though. Elom, one of my host sisters, came into my room on Friday night, asked me if I was tired - I said no. So she told me to get up and come outside because she was going to give me a French lesson. Blackboard and everything - so it's going to be a regular thing now, and I have a test tomorrow. We started with the basics - numbers, "my name is", etc, and then yesterday she got right into the "Je t'aime" category. She's fantastic - she was a little shy when I first arrived, but after a few hours she started treating me like her big sister. She's the same age as Nour, 17 in a couple months. Her older sister, Grace, is a little quieter, but they both have this silent cheekiness - I know their mom has probably told them to be polite and use their manners, but me & the girls have come to an understanding that we're just going to be dorks with each other. Their older cousin, Patience, is probably the one person that's helped me the most with feeling homesick or missing people. She's 22, and moved here a few months ago, and pretty much runs the household alongside Clara. She's one of those people where, if you're in her presence, you feel like everything's going to be okay, and nothing is as bad as it seems. I'm so grateful to have her with me. She took me to their church this morning - 4 hours straight on a plastic chair, me again being a dork and not knowing when to sit and stand, and THEN, there was one part where everyone started singing and dancing - I really really wished I knew what to do because man it looked like fun. But there I was, stupid Yovo doing a 2-step. Great. Maybe next time huh.

I'm telling you, this family is something else. I actually feel like they've taken me in as their own, and I feel relatively in sync with the family dynamic. They take such good care of me and I feel safe with them.

I've taken some pictures, and we all know how bad I am at (a) actually taking photos to begin with, and (b) when I do take them, they're rarely any good, so bear with me. I'm not sure if I'll have time to upload them, but I will eventually.

As for the work I'm doing, it's all been miscellaneous for the past few days, which to be honest, I'm finding slightly irritating because I want to know exactly what they want me to do, so I can sort out how I'm going to do it. But yeah - the Director of the NGO doesn't speak any English at all, so it's a bit of a struggle. I know that for this week, I'll be going with one of the guys at CTM [who speaks perfect English, phew] and we'll be going around several schools in the area, doing some activities with the kids. I'm looking forward to it. The children here are incredible. You can actually see the purity of their souls shine through. I'll be walking down a road, catch a child's eye, and then smile, and then they'll beam at me and come hold my hand. Just like that.
Uh.. I realise I sound very World Vision right now, but it's actually incredibly moving. You feel this instant love for this child who already trusts you completely and wants to be your friend.
I'm all blogged out folks - there are so many other things but it was already an enormous struggle trying to make all this mildly logical, so I'll add little bits and pieces here and there.
Since I don't have regular internet access, I'll probably update my blog in chunks every few days or so - type them up on the old laptop and then USB it at the internet cafe. The most recent post will be at the top, so if you're reading in order, go from the bottom up.
I'll try to keep updating - but there are days when I actually don't even have a spare 5 minutes to myself, and then I just collapse when I come home.

Hmm. Just realised most of this is a big messy blob of information. Good luck making sense of it all :)

Oh ALSO - I have a cell phone but it's stupid and won't let anyone from overseas call or text me, another thing that I'm finding difficult - makes you feel disconnected from the people you love, but again, just gotta stick it out and deal with it. I'll have to rely on strictly email folks. We have a landline but I don't know if it works either - I haven't got the number on me now but I'll post it up here soon.

Hope you are all well. Emails are always welcome (but don't take it personally if I don't reply immediately - now you know why). ==> rasha.rushdy@gmail.com

Au revoir! (I'm such a nerd. I also sound very dorky speaking French, it's very funny, I assure you).

I feel like I'm not awake

Date: 23 Nov. 2007
Location: In my room, in the area of Adidogomé, Lomé, Togo
Time: 8.20 a.m.

I can't believe I'm here. I'm having a very strange combination of feelings. You know how sometimes you have something coming up soon and you have dreams about it in anticipation of what it'll be like? I feel like I'm having one of those dreams. It hasn't completely clicked that I've left everything that I know behind and am now in a completely different environment. I don't really know what to do with myself.

I'm sure my family is freaking out at the moment since I haven't gotten in touch yet. I'm also very anxious, there are so many people I want to call, and it's making me really restless! Basically in our village, there are a few "communications centres" which consist of a small room with a desk, 2 chairs, and a phone which is connected up to this metre, for making national and international calling. So my host mother, Clara, after bringing me some breakfast told me to come with her to try and call my folks. So I got my hopes up, started getting really excited, started dialing, but then it didn't work. I kept trying, but not only was it still charging me, but it wouldn't connect. I think the built up anxiety and anticipation of being reconnected with a familiar voice has resulted in me now feeling slightly depressed. I hate this feeling - I start thinking about how hard this will all be and how I just want to go home.

A proper update will come soon when I'm not such a grump. Promise.

Dub.dub.dub.ai

Date: 21 Nov. 2007
Where I am: Arrivals area in Dubai International Airport
What time it is: 8.20 a.m.

The title is ironic, since there’s no “www” access in the part of Dubai airport that I’m actually in. I’m rather annoyed. There’s also a severe lack of power outlets here. I found a grand total of two which happen to be right next to each other, not close to any seats or anything mildly resembling something comfortable, so I’ve resorted to balancing myself on this metal bar that goes around a pillar. Feeling very much like a vagrant about it, and I’m getting hilarious looks from the taxi drivers and random folk waiting around for people to arrive. They look at me.. then at my laptop… then at the wall where it’s plugged in… then back at me as if I’m insane.

SO, I just flew for almost 15 hours from Sydney to Dubai, and now I’m hanging out, waiting for Mama to come and meet me, and a couple of hours later we’ll go meet up with Baba. I’m pretty impressed with myself – out of the 15 hours, I slept for about 8 in total, which is a massive achievement for me since I get very restless and irritable and cranky and then just wallow in the discomfort I’m in. Pretty sure my knees are going to self-destruct when I’m at the age of 25. When that happens, I’m going to blame Emirates entirely for the ridiculously small space they purport to call ‘leg room’. Who are they even trying to kid? And the dude in front of me must have been quite the gangsta, because he was leanin’ wid it for the whole 15 hours ("haha"), thereby restricting my “leg room” (if I don’t put quote marks it’ll legitimise it as actual leg room, which it isn’t, so no) for the bulk of the flight.

Can someone explain to me why airlines think that eggs are an appropriate food to serve for breakfast? Not only does the entire plane smell like … eggs … but it’s also disgusting to eat. That consistency, that wobbliness, that eggy-ness. No thanks. Gross.

There was a 26-year-old Persian fellow sitting next to me on the flight, and when I first got on the plane, I was probably quite rude since I was moody and tired, so I just put my earphones on and pretended to be asleep because I wasn’t in a conversational frame of mind at all. But eventually we started talking – very interesting, he’s apparently a famous singer back in Shiraz, trying to make it big in Australia, and essentially the conversation boiled down to him indirectly asking for either of my sisters’ hands in marriage. I obviously answered in the affirmative.

Hmmm. I hate waiting. Although I actually like the fact that I’m kind of strangely facing the door that my mom is likely to walk through. It’ll be great when she walks in and suddenly finds her daughter kind of pathetically hunched over a laptop, looking at the door with a “will you give me shelter and feed me” look on my face. I’m going to try and be inconspicuous for as long as possible and just watch her facial expression. Hah Mama.

Jitters? Where are you?

I'm leaving.
Tomorrow.
Like, tomorrow.
Like this time tomorrow, I'll be gone.
Gone from my home.
Why am I not a nervous wreck? Hmm.
I feel like I should be a nervous wreck. But I'm not.

Also, and this is more alarming to me, why was packing extremely easy and quick? My room was tidy the whole time, very un-Rasha-esque. Usually I'm standing in the middle of a sea of clothes and other personal effects, paralysed, unable to move because of the sheer volume of items on my "to-pack" list, and not knowing where to start.

But no, nothing.

...
Should I be worried?

...

I'm going to go ahead and say no, I'm just that prepared.

Well, hi.

I'm at home, it's a sunny Sunday afternoon, and it has suddenly hit me that this is the last time I'll be able to do this for the next 3 months. The combination of my newfound free time, lack of anything to do, as well as the innate desire to re-engage with my laptop after shunning it for a complete 48 hours (I know!)after devoting every waking hour to it during the excruciating ordeal of final exams, have all culminated into what is a very optimistic attempt at making a commitment to this 'blogging' phenomenon. [I think it needs to be pointed out that "blog" is a hilarious word. Wouldn't you agree?]

In short, folks, I'm leaving Christchurch on Friday, and am embarking on what is probably going to be one of the most challenging experiences of my life, BUT I'm unbelievably excited. I'm off to Lomé, Togo, in West Africa (pictured) for 8 weeks for a summer internship - no idea what to expect, which is probably a good thing.

I really am starting this with the best of intentions. Feel free to drop by my "blog" whenever you feel like reading the rantings and ramblings of yours truly - I guarantee that most of the time there won't be a whole lot of logic or sense, but hey, that's all part of the fun. I get to subject the world to my incoherent thoughts - YESS!

Stay tuned!