I ♥ Dubai Airport

Here I am again! This airport is starting to feel like home to me, I've transited here so many times over the past few months that I'm starting to recognise the staff (very hard to do in places like Dubai/Bahrain where EVERYWHERE is way too overstaffed). What I love the most about this airport is the fact that you can sit on the side of the walk-a-lator (are they called walkalators? Or did I make that up?) and be continually entertained by the stream of people walking past you from countries all over the world.

Things that I strongly dislike about traveling:

• Always feeling like you've just been punched in the face because of the swollen-eye syndrome
• Having swollen feet in shoes that really don't cater for them (I wanted to wear sandals but Mama gave me 'the look')
• Okay, so, I think it's fair to say: swollenness in general.
  
• People encroaching on airplane seat space - especially the woman next to me on my flight from Bahrain to Dubai who engaged in an irritating cycle of nudging, apologising, and then nudging more, and then reading my newspaper over my shoulder, and then urging me to move and sit somewhere else. What is this?! Am I so repulsive? The fact that she had a very very cute baby on her lap was the only reason I didn't react more violently.
• Airports with smokers' sections. No offense to all the smokers out there, but yuck. I can't breathe y'all. I don't see how a strange glass capsule in the middle of the airport with no roof is supposed to contain the smoke. Call me crazy, just doesn't seem logical.
  
• The hybrid of "I'm-hungry-and-I-can't-stand-the-thought-of-food". NOTHING is appetising but my stomach ain't happy. I want to eat something but I don't know what. I keep waiting for some edible item to entice me but nothing's happening.
  

For fear of getting carried away with my travel-irritability and therefore missing my flight, I should probably bizounce.

Next stop - the land of London.

Rights of citizenship upheld for Egyptian Baha'is

http://bahai-egypt.blogspot.com/ <---- GO HERE.

Today signifies an important landmark for Egyptian Baha'is - for those of you who have been following this (and those of you who haven't), the Court of Administrative Justice today upheld the right of Egyptian Baha'is (or any Egyptian citizens who are not either Muslim, Christian, or Jewish) to legitimately obtain identity cards. If you haven't been following it, and feel like an interesting read about an inspirational community who persisted through a difficult, and potentially disheartening and discouraging situation, check out this blog - http://bahai-egypt.blogspot.com/

P.S. I very badly miss having interesting quirky things to write about. Just by the way.

One more thing

Catching up on world news after a long absence is somewhat depressing.

I miss my muse.

....

I don't even know what to write anymore.

I keep wanting to update the old blog, but I don't know what to say. What do I write about? The fact that I almost feel guilty about getting back in sync with 'normal' life so quickly? Or the fact that everything seems so easy and clean and sometimes extravagant, but I like it?

I'm just being brutally honest here. From the moment I stepped into Dubai International Airport and saw the familiar landscape of cafes, duty free shops, designer brand outlets, and people clad in business suits, I felt a huge sense of relief. The fact that I could just flip open my laptop and look for a number on my cell phone and listen to my iPod all at the same time, without having to worry that I was flaunting all my gadgets too much, thereby attracting too much attention to myself, was... nice. I was always really paranoid about that in Togo - if I had to answer my phone, I'd do it very surreptitiously. I never took my laptop out of the house, and listening to music was something I'd do in the privacy of my own bedroom. Even things like drinking a can of Coke in front of others made me a little awkward. All those things just seemed out of place, and fickle. I felt fickle simply by still being attached to them somehow.

Being in a place like Bahrain, where you often come across complete paradoxes, in terms of wealth and poverty, is very interesting. You often see heavily ornate mansions juxtaposed next to a space of wasteland with piles of rubble and sand, totally neglected. While driving, you'll see an old, very run-down pick up truck packed with 15 workers in the back, wearing very simple clothing, dirtied after an exhausting day's work, as a latest-model Lexus, Maserati or Chrysler (really, take your pick) passes by you, driven by a wealthy man in his pristine white thobe and headdress, talking on his expensive, top-of-the-line cellphone.

I think about the fact that my 7 year old brother is proficient in using a laptop, whereas most of the adults I met in Togo wouldn't know what to do with one; the fact that you can go to an enormous hypermarket like Géant and buy whatever your heart desires, all contained under one roof. Hungry? Eat something. There's a running fridge, knock yourself out. If there isn't anything you like, go ahead, take the car, which costs almost nothing to fill up, and drive to a place where there is something you'd like. Fancy a shower? Choose your water temperature and take as long as you want.

My mother left 500 fils (about USD$1.30) in the car yesterday, and I asked her whether that was such a good idea, thinking that it was an open invitation for someone to break in and take it. She looked at me and said "it's only 500 fils". 500 fils. That's 575 francs, which will easily get you four decent-sized meals - rice, meat, and vegetables. 575 francs can get you 23 500ml sachets of distilled water, which some people can't afford, so they just drink tap water (if that's available), a common source of disease.

I'm not being resentful or bitter, even though I know it may sound like it, I'm just coming to grips with this in my own head. Part of me is afraid that it's been so easy to re-assimilate with this lifestyle that I'll forget. I'll forget that as I'm typing this, someone that I know, and have made a connection with, is wondering how they're going to get the money to pay their rent, or where their next meal is coming from. Someone that I know may be wondering how they'll afford to buy medicine for a family member that's fallen sick. Many people that I met are trying to figure out what they're going to do with their lives now that they've gotten their degrees, given that unemployment is so high that they've already accepted that it's just going to continue like that, unless some kind of miracle happens. Some of them who are employed, and come to work everyday, haven't been paid in 3 months because their own boss can't find the money to buy a meal for himself.

Man... it's so easy to just slip back into my own little cocoon where my Issues of the Day are actually embarrassing to admit, but they still manage to irk me.

Over this past week, Bahrain has made me think about how it sort of displays a small-scale version of the world we live in. You have developed infrastructure, technology that makes your eyes pop out of your head, trinkets like Swarovski-crystal-embedded laptops (I kid you not). There are high standards of living, a thriving economy, large incomes, private schools, housekeepers, 5-star hotels and bidets. Then, in the very same sphere of life, you have poverty, enormous expanses of untouched, undeveloped land, underpaid and unappreciated workers. There are prejudices, unaddressed societal issues, and there is ignorance. And yet, even though these may seem like they are all at opposite ends of the spectrum, they are still members of one single spectrum, from one end to the next, and all that's in between. The issues that plague our world, no matter how far they are from where we are, and how different and shocking they may be in relation to what we see in front of us, are still issues in our world - the same world we live in. It scares me that it's so easy to just carry on comfortably with my life, that we can just get on with it and not turn our minds to the nightmares that our fellow human beings have to endure day after day. I think the very least we can do is be mindful of what they have to go through (I always say 'we' but I really mean 'I'). I don't even think that's enough.

Bah bah bah-rain, have you any food?

The answer is yes. Lots of it which I can't stop consuming.

It's awesome being back with family again, but I keep getting flashes of Togo and it really does feel like it was just a dream. I was looking at my pictures last night and couldn't believe that so much had happened in that short space of time, and here I am, in familiar surroundings, where most things are the same as they were last time I came to visit. It's very surreal.

I want to write more but I'm still getting my head around the fact that I'm here.

Odd.

Perhaps later.

I have to say - I suddenly have a lot of appreciation for butter, chocolate Digestive biscuits (don't ask), and the washing machine. I'm also really enjoying having a sink/shower/bathroom all in one indoor, clean location.

Final week!

Date: 9 January 2008

I met the new intern this week. My "replacement".

I've come to the conclusion that meeting and interacting with other Yovos is now a strange experience. Very strange.

First of all, they seem very very white. Like very white. This girl was Finnish and I kept staring at her skin, almost in disbelief. Yes, I do realise how odd I sound right now.

I also talk differently. I guess I got used to speaking to people who weren't fluent in English so I automatically simplify my words, slow down my speech, cut out any slang, and just don't sound like myself at all. It's almost a relief to just talk like myself, without having to worry whether the other person will miss something that I've said.

We talked about things that only Yovos really notice in Africa, also very weird. For example, "So do you ever drink tap water?", "Man how weird is the fish sometimes", "Have you seen that AIDS billboard with the old guy on it?" (I only mentioned that because there are many shocking billboards on the roadsides - ask me about them and I'll tell you. SHOCKING. Shocking enough that I can't bring myself to elaborate right here.)

I suddenly felt like home wasn't that far away. I don't know how to explain this really. Okay, so I'm leaving on Sunday morning. It's weird - going back to ordinary life doesn't seem possible. Like, I guess that being here is so different to my "normal" life that going back to it feels like I'm going to another planet, and that either my life before Togo, or my mini-life in Togo, were just dreams that I had once upon a time. After being here for 7 weeks, I've gotten used to a lot of things, and un-used to a lot of things that were habits before. When I first got here, it felt like I was going to be here for a really long time, and it was difficult to come to grips with it. But then with any change in lifestyle, you eventually get into the swing of things, you find things that make you feel like a place is home, you find your way around, figure out how to get the things you need, the way things are done, understand certain cultural differences a little more, and you make friends and synchronise with your new life.

It's interesting comparing who you were before such an experience with who you are afterwards. There are a lot, and I mean a LOT of things that I'm used to now that I never ever ever thought I could possibly ever be okay with. Even just a lot of personal characteristics that I've had to suppress or overcome, and others that I've had to develop and improve. Sometimes I'll just look around at my surroundings and it hits me just how different this life is to "my life". I'm in Africa. Rasha is in Africa. I thought about this trip a lot before I came here, trying to imagine what it would be like, and whether I'd go through with it or whether I could handle it. In a sense I guess I was setting a challenge for myself, seeing if I could bite the bullet and commit; dive into unknown territory. On some level, it all seemed too different and too far away to ever materialise into reality, but it did, and I'm here. SO WEIRD. And now it's almost over. I feel torn - there's a sadness when I think about the people, places and things that I know I'm going to miss (especially the people), but then when I think about going back to what's familiar, I admit, I feel relieved. With all the incredible things I've experienced here, it hasn't been easy, but I'm grateful for that. I'm glad that I got to see a lot of things with my own eyes, meet remarkable people, and learn priceless lessons, not just about the world, but about myself and my role, however insignificant, in it.

Last night was tough - normally the kids come only on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, but last Sunday I told them to come every afternoon this week and we'd just play games and sing songs and have fun. Man. I don't know how I'm going to go through with leaving them. It's amazing how despite the language barrier, we've still communicated, and connected, and developed relationships with each other. I've gotten very attached to them - they truly brighten my day. They keep threatening to cry when I leave. One girl yesterday kept ignoring me and didn't want to talk, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said that it was because I was leaving. I can't help but feel like by leaving, I'm letting go of a responsibility. I keep trying to think of ways that I can continue being a part of their lives after I go, and gathering email addresses and phone numbers so that I can keep in touch, but it just doesn't feel like enough. I'm almost jealous of the new intern - while she was greeting them yesterday, I just watched, thinking: no, they're my kids, get off my territory, don't replace me! I don't want them to forget me, because my God, I'm not going to forget them.

Don't EVEN get me started on my feelings about leaving my host family. Every night now, one of them will bring up the fact that our time is running out, and I feel this tightness in my chest because I know it's true. I'm going to miss sitting outside together and laughing, I'm going to miss Clara's INCREDIBLE storytelling (this woman has a gift - she can be telling a story about how she got a certain mosquito bite and it's completely riveting). I'm going to miss having visitors stop over in the evenings, sitting in the cool night air, listening to the sound of the language and the animated expression in their voices while they talk. I'm going to miss lying on the straw mat with Elom and Grace while we each read our books on a Sunday afternoon (I've turned them into geeks like me, YES), and playing DJ on my laptop while they show me the latest dance they've choreographed.

3 and a half days. Clara told me she's going to be out of the house on Sunday morning because she doesn't want to see me with my suitcase getting all airport-y. I still can't believe my time is up. People often ask me what I like most about Togo - I don't even have to think about it, it's the people that make this country. I've learned enormous amounts from them, and will never forget the impact they've made on my life. I hope one day I can come back.

Thanks.

Samar, instead of replying to all of your comments, you've earned a post.

I love how much effort you're putting into these characters. They brighten my day and I'm starting to feel like the only reason anyone should read my blog is to read your comments.

Smelly APE.

Even the face.

Love,
Missy Elliat.

Thoughts on a Lazy Sunday

Date: 30 December 2007

Time has been a strange concept during this entire trip. It seems to go by gradually, and calmly, but at the same time it's zooming past. I can't believe that in exactly 2 weeks from today, I'll be on a plane out of here.

Today's been a very relaxing day: I slept in, washed my clothes, had some fufu (I swear, I'm going to probably crave the stuff once I can't have any more of it - Clara actually asked me whether I wanted fufu or spaghetti and I opted for fufu. I don't understand my thought pattern here). I finished reading a book, listened to some music while I sat in the sun just staring out into the distance, thinking and pondering about the world at large and my own place in it.

The concept of "working" has also been changed for me completely. Things like structure, organisation, deadlines, and tasks are totally different to anything I've ever experienced. Being someone who likes to know exactly what's going on, have concrete, tangible outcomes to work towards, and who, I admit it, is irritatingly stubborn and perhaps inflexible when it comes to certain things, being in Togo has really challenged me. I recently came to the realisation that getting really angry and frustrated about people not keeping appointments, or not having a clear, definite blueprint of what your "boss" wants you to do (I use quote marks because... okay I'm not even going to get into that) - yeah, it won't do you any good. In fact, nobody cares, and you end up just getting yourself worked up into a very agitated and tense state of mind, which then impairs any ability you might have had to turn the situation around and take initiative to do something about it.

For example, I finished translating the kids' songs about 3 weeks ago, and the Director told me that he'd let me know when he wants me to start teaching the kids. So I was twiddling my thumbs, waiting, wondering when the heck this was going to happen. It started really getting to me - I hate having to be dependent on someone else to decide when I can do what I'm supposed to. Then earlier this week, while I was at the office, a bunch of kids were hanging out, playing, and I decided - yeah, you know what, the songs are ready to be taught, the kids have nothing to do, I'm just going to go right ahead and create my own little classroom situation. So I called them over to the other room, got the blackboard and chalk happening, and we practised singing the new songs for a couple of hours. It was AWESOME. They picked it up really fast, I was amazed.

I was dead at the end of the class though. While I was standing, pointing out the words as they sang, I was carrying one kid who fell asleep on my shoulder and being pulled at by another one. It was very hot, my voice was hoarse from repeating the same lines of the songs over and over, my back was killing me, and occasionally I had to break up a fight between these particular 4 boys (all under 6 years old) who kept attacking each other intermittently, which was a challenge seeing as they spoke no English and I, obviously, no French. That night, though, I went to sleep feeling very happy and content.

After several weeks of intense frustration at the lack of organisation and direction, I finally learned this week that you don't actually have to wait around. Just get up, do it. I don't know how the Director feels about me defying him and just going ahead with the lessons, but frankly, I'm leaving in 2 weeks, time is running out, so I kind of don't care. The guy's M.I.A. a lot of the time and I'll end up being the only person in a position of any kind of authority at the CTM centre, so I kind of needed to grab the bull by the horns.

I have to say - if it wasn't for these kids, man, I don't know I'd cope. On several occasions, when I've felt like I've had it and am going to explode, and get into the worst mood I can muster, all it takes is one of these kids to come along, and we'll play for a little bit, or have a simple chat, or just sit together, and my mindframe totally shifts. It recentres me and reminds me why I'm here. We (okay, I) get so hung up sometimes on needing to be able to identify a clear result of the effort I've put in to something. I've realised that by doing that, I limit myself, because there are some invaluable lessons or insights that we learn, but you can't compact them into 'result X' or 'outcome Y'. A whole collection of events and experiences, over a long period of time, can result in one small, but important lesson that one needs to learn. And conversely, through one tiny experience, you can unravel a whole new perspective on something, which maybe you never considered.

(Sort of concerned that this isn't making much sense, but hey, it's my blog, I'll be as nonsensical as I want. HA.)

Sometimes we just need to slow down. Take a breath, look around, and just be. These days I've been making myself sit down, evacuate all irrelevant thoughts, worries, wants, and stresses from my head, and just ask myself, what are the things which I wouldn't have learned if I hadn't come here? (I'm having a problem with the masked double negative there, but somehow it's easier for me to answer that question than "What have I learned?") It forces me to press the pause button, stop getting angry or irritated, and take a step back, as if I'm an outsider looking in. This happens a LOT - I'll just disconnect from where I am, who I am, and feel like I'm watching myself from another place. It's very weird, but very helpful.

With every new experience, there are lessons learned. And everytime, I think, wow, I've definitely learned that, but then you'll see an entirely new perspective on that in a subsequent experience, and realise how little you actually know. You learn things you didn't even think you could learn, or needed to learn. Where you are, who you meet, what you do, and the challenges and obstacles you face, so many factors, make you interpret the world differently (I know I'm stating the obvious). Maybe in an initial experience you learn the core of a vital insight, but then with everything that follows it, it's like it branches out and develops what you thought you "knew". Knowledge isn't meant to be static, or finite - and knowledge is nothing without challenge to that knowledge. At first it's a little unsettling - finding out that you will never know everything, but now I see it as exciting - imagine, every little thing you experience has a treasure waiting to be unearthed, and these treasures aren't definite in number, they're everywhere. You get guided towards them, no matter what decisions you make, or what feats you underatke.

Okay, I should probably stop myself before I get too philosophical.

On a different note - I'm going to a Togolese nightclub with some friends tonight. They seem really adamant that I experience this, even though I expressed that it wasn't essential, and that I'd live quite happily without it. But yeah, it's happening.

....

(Samar I'm aware of how you're looking at me right now.)

BY the way, thanks to all of you who are reading this - it's very encouraging, and motivates me to update regularly, which is really a bonus for me, since I get to have a written record of this experience. I appreciate it! (I acknowledge the great effort required to get through the piles of incoherence, you deserve a medal.)

P.S. This is completely unrelated, but okay, has anyone tried Microsoft OneNote????? UM. IT'S AWESOME. I actually can't wait until uni starts so that I can start using it.

So Lomé-antic

Date: 23 December 2007

(Yes, I openly acknowledge the cheesiness of some of these blog post titles)

If anyone is looking for some new material to pick up chicks/guys with, I think the men of Togo can most certainly offer you some surefire ways to win the heart of the object of your affection.

Please, allow me elaborate:

• As I'm nonchalantly sitting on the back of a moto in the middle of the city, waiting for the lights to change, a casanova walking through the traffic passes by, brushes his hand on my arm and whispers softly at me, "That's my baby... I love you so much" - .... uh... thank you?
  


• Walking down the road, I pass by another modern-day Romeo, who hits me with a, "2PAC! Hey girl, I love you." I liked this approach, using something familiar to "my culture", like 2Pac, which I can relate to (?) to grab my attention and then profess his love for me. Obviously I was transfixed by his existence after that opening line.
  


• Walking home at sunset, I pass by some youths hanging out on a bench under a palm tree; the leader of the pack dazzles me with, "HEY. Come here and greet me." Only a real man could be so demanding and command my respect in an instant. (.....)
  


• After having greeted a fellow walking in my neighbourhood, who I've never spoken to, he replies with, "Oh... ca va? You are married?" This guy wastes no time. Clearly no commitment-phobia here at all.
  


• In the internet cafe, an older man sitting at the computer next to me asks to borrow a pen, I lend it. Note that internet cafes are pretty much the hub of pick-up activity, so usually I'm on alert, but this guy was old, so I figured, harmless, nothing will come of this. A few minutes later he pushes a piece of paper at me, while smiling eagerly, with the soul-stirring words, "Your mail?" scribbled on it. YES I WANT YOU TO BE MY MALE. VERY BADLY. Oh, my mail. My mail?
  


• "Give me your address." ......................... "Otherwise how can I meet you?" - Um, I'm sorry, who are you?
  


• "White girl, come sit with me." Wow.
  


• As I enter a room for a meeting with the Director, the gentleman at the desk grunts, "Ohh... nice gaahhlll (girl)". After some small talk, he pops the question (well, not THE question, but a question) - "In your country, you have polygamy?" ........... Sir. Sir. Please, sir. We don't even know each other. Aren't we rushing this a little?
  
  I think it's only appropriate to post some pictures of the beach at sunset, seeing as I'm sure you've all been hypnotised into a love-trance. Just a little ambience (just an excuse to show these pictures - this beach is AMAZING):
  

Side Note: I was sitting on the veranda typing this on my laptop, and then the dog comes and chills next to me. Okay, so if you don't know, I'm not the biggest dog-lover, kind of terrified by them, so having to live with one is a big challenge for me. Especially since before leaving NZ, my travel doctor said "Well, we haven't got time to do the rabies shots, but the best advice I can give you while you're there is STAY AWAY FROM ALL DOGS. ALL DOGS. OTHERWISE YOU'LL GET RABIES. YOU'LL GET IT FOR SURE." This was accompanied by a menacing horror-movie tune in the background. For some reason, Bubi (the dog - yes, I chose it to spell it this way deliberately) has decided that we're best friends and follows me wherever I go. If I'm sitting somewhere, she'll come and sit right next to me. She has a limp and is constantly itching her fleas, and, well, okay, I find it nasty. Don't give me your fleas, thanks. So I got up just now, moved over a few metres so avoid flea-infestation in my hair/skin (I have no evidence to back up the conviction that such infestation will ensue, but EW.........wait, is it possible?) and then she just looked at me. She looked really shot down. I felt a little bad about it. So she just stared at me for a while, I sheepishly stared back, but with a "surely-you-can-understand-where-I'm-coming-from" look. Then a minute later she gets up, moves closer to me (not as close as she was before) and then sits down, but this time, she sat with her back towards me. A dog is giving me the cold shoulder. She's giving me attitude and is expecting me to try and reconcile our differences. No, you have fleas. And you might have rabies............. I don't want either of those things, thank you very much. WOW I wrote about this for a long time huh.

Another side note: so, one thing I'm not going to miss - last night I couldn't sleep because the neighbours were having a very loud voodoo ceremony until the early hours of the morning. Yeah.

Got my hair did!

Date: 21 December 2007

I got corn-rowed! COOL HUH? I keep touching my head - it feels like it's someone else's. So yes, I got this done yesterday afternoon. Beforehand, everyone was telling me how I was going to cry and it was going to be extremely painful - me of course, thinking, yeah yeah, sure, another foreigner-ism that you just have to say.

No.

It was actually hideously painful. I didn't want my face to reveal the excruciating agony that I was experiencing, but oh. My. GOD. All in the name of beauty, right? I believe at one point during the process of having 4-7 Togolese women pulling at my hair in different directions and twisting and tweaking, in my mind I compared this to the process of childbirth. Bad example, I know, but this is how much pain I felt. Especially because at the start, it's not so bad, but once they get to the one-third mark of the braid, you feel like you're going to die, and then it passes, and they finish the braid off and you're fine. Then they start the next one, and you think, great, more nauseating pain! GREAT! Much like what I imagine contractions would be like - you know when the next one's coming, you proceed to have a panic attack, and then it hits you and you want to die from the pain, etc (yeah, really bad example, sorry. I kind of just thought of it then went with it.)

I nearly just said "yeah you know what, forget it, I'm a wimp" but I'd talked up my toughness so much at that point that I really couldn't back down.

But I went through with it. YES. I had a mild aneurism in the middle of the night because I've forgotten what long hair feels like and I thought something was crawling on my back, alas it was not.

Apparently you're meant to feel extreme tension and headaches for a couple of days (which I am), but I really hope they go away because it's not the most pleasant feeling.
COOL!!

(I tried uploading pics but something isn't working - I've put some up on facebook :D)

A chief principle to guide us

Date: 18 December 2007

Well, another week has passed and time is suddenly starting to feel like it's zooming by. I'm pretty much halfway through my stay here - can't really believe it.


This week's been pretty good - we've been going out to the villages, doing our thing. These visits are organised by the Department of Social Affairs. The program involves about 50 villages in the Maritime Region of Togo, and representatives of Social Affairs in collaboration with CTM prepare presentations in order to sensitise the populations about problems such as violence against children, sexual abuse, child trafficking, depriving children of an education by forcing them to work instead of going to school - serious problems that are very much real, especially in the villages. So our performers, after a serious presentation from the Social Affairs people, do a light-hearted skit - usually gets everyone laughing, and I think on some level it relaxes them so that after the skit, when they are asked about what issues arose, and whether they have any remarks, everyone is very open and willing to talk, sharing experiences, asking questions, and so on.


I've also been taught a few sentences to say in Ewe to introduce the performances and to introduce myself - every time I get a roar of laughter followed by applause. Man, speaking a language you don't know, and not knowing how badly you're butchering it, and then having people laugh or imitate you in a slightly mocking tone, will slightly crush your confidence in that language. I just have to not be self-conscious about it and laugh at myself. It's still fun though. I'm sure they initially expect me to start talking in French, so the look on their face when I start talking in their local language is quite funny.

Now that we're visiting more and more villages, I'm finding it really interesting how you get different responses from the people there. After the first couple of villages, I thought, wow, very encouraging, everyone's all for it, very receptive, all the village chiefs attend it and make sure that everyone knows about it. But this week has been a bit more of a challenge. We've been to a couple of villages where, when we get there, only the Social Affairs folk are there, and maybe a couple of the people who live there, and we end up waiting around for at least an hour for a reasonable group to gather so that we can begin. Yesterday, the chief didn't even bother coming, even though he'd been told about it several times. Everyone seemed really disheartened - one guy told me that a lot of the time the chiefs don't give these problems the weight that they deserve. They choose not to see the problems latent in their communities, and ignore it as if it doesn't exist, or if they acknowledge that they do exist, they deliberately ignore them.

Okay so, chiefs. Slight change of tone but I found this hilarious and couldn't stop laughing for a while. Last week, just before I was leaving to go out for dinner, Elom says, "HEY, WAIT FOR ME, I ate too much so I'll go greet the chief and then I'm coming with you."

Greet the chief...?
Rasha wonders whether something was lost in translation, and what she just missed, but chuckles quietly. Then Clara says to me, "Greet the chief - it means that she wants to go make kaka first so that she'll have space to eat with you."

I stared at her in shock for a while, thinking - um, did you, this matronly, 50+ year old woman who is actually quite strict and extremely religious, just talk to me about poo?

My stare must've begged clarification because she went on to say, "In Ewe, kaka also means chief, so when you say you are going to greet the chief, it means you need to go to the toilet."

At this point, I erupted in laughter. HOW GOOD IS THAT? Greeting the chief. I have to go greet the chief. Oh yeah, he just had to go and greet the chief. Hey, have you greeted the chief today? (Note: I started getting carried away just now, thinking of various ways of incorporating this incredible metaphor into anything poo-related, typed it all out then deleted it because I'm too disgusting).

Greeting the chief huh. Greeeeeting the chief. Can everyone please start using that from now on? Please? Amazing.

Speaking of chiefs (actual chiefs, not number 2) - yesterday we went to the home of the chief (to greet him - HAHAH) that refused to come to the presentation, and about halfway through the visit, the lady next to me turns to me and says quietly, "Oh.. Rasha.. the chief said he would like to marry you."

I laughed. Haha. That's cool, you know, token sentence to say to an unsuspecting Yovo.

She doesn't laugh. She just looks at me, looks back at the chief, and at everyone else in the room who has gone kind of quiet. My eyes shift from right to left.... I think... does he.. want.. uh, an answer?

I nervously laughed again. Hahahahah.

Why is nobody else laughing. The chief says something. She translates, "He said if you have a husband, it's okay, but if you don't have a husband, he will marry you."

What do you mean to say, when you say he will marry me? Do I have a say in the matter? (I'm sensationalising this a little as you can tell)

I smiled demurely. Luckily it was time to go so we all have to go around and shake hands with everyone, when it was my turn to shake the chief's hand, he held it firmly, grinned at me broadly, raised his eyebrows and then gave me an inquisitive thumbs-up, and said, "Ok???"

I jokingly said, "hahaha okay" and we went on our way.
Hopefully that wasn't binding and I haven't just betrothed myself to a 70+ year old toothless man, who I could call kaka if I wanted to.

I 'kid' you not. (Hah...hah)

Date: 16 December 2007

Man. The kids here. Seriously. INCREDIBLE. Not only are they unbelievably cute, but they're so friendly and affectionate! I mean, usually, I'm used to the occasional kid screaming or crying if I try to pick him/her up, and feeling slightly shot down and embarrassed afterwards, but not here!

Some of the CTM kids took part in a performance today - an outdoor concert that was supposed to start at 4pm, didn't start until about 6.30pm (I don't think I'll ever get used to African time), and then in the middle of a performance, the electricity would just die - slight mood-killer, but overall, lots of talent. Some reeeeally good breakdancers (I took some wobbly videos on my phone), singers, etc.

The CTM kids - Marcel, Justin (aka Dwak), Elom, and Erwin:

Okay so this little girl was sitting with her mom behind me, and I could see that she wanted to get a closer look, so I just offered to take her on my lap so she could see better. She made herself right at home, and she'd leave for short periods of time but always come back to me and jump on my lap. SO CUTE.








Also, this child kept getting up on his chair and krumping.

I love it. I love how affectionate they are. The other night, we'd just gotten back from the village, I was exhausted, hungry, kind of grumpy, and then we got out of the car, and then about 15 kids from my English class ran at me and gave me hugs. It was AWESOME. Seriously, the best thing after a trying day.

Some of the kids from the under 12 English class:

GUESS WHAT I JUST ATE?

Date: Monday, 10 December 2007

More yams you say? Nope.
Perhaps some fish? Well, no.
Okay, surely it's rice? I'm afraid not.
An apple? No.
Spaghetti? Nah.
(I'm tempted to go on for a while, but I won't)

BEEF PATTIES AND FRENCH FRIES. I ATE THEM. At home! I came home at about 7pm tonight, exhausted out of my brains, thinking to myself, "wow, I really don't know if I can stomach anything tonight, too tired to be tolerant of all foods."

Imagine my delight when I get called out for dinner, tread apprehensively to the little table set up on the veranda for me, and see what I can only assume was a miracle sent to me from the heavens. I thought I was dreaming. BEEF? POTATOES? NOT YAMS? NOT CANNED FISH? NOT? And then Clara casually comes along with a bottle of Heinz sauce, and like it ain't no thang, just asks, "You want ketchup?"

I believe that at that point, tears started to well up in my eyes. UM YES I WANT KETCHUP. I was so happy. While I was eating, I thought I should perhaps take a picture to capture this truly extraordinary moment, but unfortunately, as soon as I laid my eyes on this glorious meal, its existence in the realm of uneaten foods was abruptly terminated. I don't think I've ever eaten so fast in my life.

WOW BEEF. And not with strange bones and slabs of lard hanging off its weird pinkness. Patties. Beautiful, amazing, wonderful patties.

I just had to share.

Another food/beverage-related moment this morning that I found very amusing:

Okay so several of us were sitting by the roadside, waiting to get into the car to head out to the villages for the day. It's 6.30 in the morning and I'm tired and cranky and thinking how I would actually sell my soul for a good coffee. So a little while later, this fellow passes by, carrying two large stainless steel thermoses (thermii? What's the plural of thermos - anyone?), a small tin of Nescafe, a box of sugar, and a plastic container which had a plastic cup and a small shot glass in it. I watched him curiously as he headed towards the driver of the car. They exchanged words quietly. So then the man gets the shot glass, puts some Nescafe in, some sugar, hot water from the thermos, and then engages in a riveting exercise whereby he transferred the coffee from one cup to another. He was extremely graceful, pouring this black gold from quite high up, into the other cup. He did it about 10 times, and then, lo and behold, there was froth on top! He then proceeded to hand the shot glass to the driver, who drank it happily while he waited for him to finish. Once he was done, he gave the glass back, the guy washed it with some water, and he was on his way.

............

He saw me watching and then raised his eyebrows at me and smiled inquisitively. Deep down in my heart, I really wanted one but the recycling of the glass put me off slightly. Unfortunately, I'm still a hygiene freak. But WOW, the whole phenomenon was like the offspring of drinking your coffee in a cafe and having it to go. The best of both worlds, I believe.

It's raining lizards (followed by a tribute to washing machines)

Date: 9 Dec 2007

There are lizards everywhere. Seriously, EVERYWHERE. Whenever I walk around the courtyard, there's a scuffling of small reptilian feet, and often they'll just cross my path very quickly. So up until last night, I thought, yeah, I'm basically pretty cool with lizards, not freaked out at all. The fact that they're loitering just outside the door of my room doesn't bother me at all - in fact, I'd probably be able to touch one if someone dared me to. This was the general attitude I had towards these creatures up until last night.

Okay, so I met this girl, Leanne, from the UK, who's also here via AIESEC (the university organisation that liases with companies/organisations around the world to raise these internships), and we arranged to go to this restaurant, Greenfields, for dinner last night. It's a more expensive restaurant which all the Yovos go to (even if it's still really cheap compared to prices at home). The idea of pizza and pasta and crepes nearly brought me to tears because I'd just about filled my dried sardine quota for a lifetime and couldn't handle the idea of more of that shard-of-glass texture in the sauce in which I dipped my boiled yams. I've really shut out food pickiness for the past couple of weeks, but it's just starting to get to me. I needed an escape. Oh, Greenfields, how very green your fields are. The pizza we had was unbelievable (probably very average but juxtaposed next to sardine-alicious yams, I mean come on) and the crepes? I felt like I'd been transported to heaven. The taste of ice cream and chocolate was almost new to me - a truly emotional experience I think.

Right, lizards. Leanne and I were sitting, talking, having a good time, and suddenly out of NOWHERE, 2 lizards who I assume were in the middle of a wrestling match in the tree above us decided that it was an opportune moment to fall onto our table and freak the heck out of us. We both yelped slightly, looked at the table, back at each other, then back at the table, then got a severe case of nervous giggles. One lizard made a run for it, but the other one just chilled out in the ashtray. Allow me to demonstrate:

The funny thing is, he played dead the entire time. Literally stayed in that position despite our poking and prodding of the ashtray to make him go away (okay, confession, I didn't actually go near the ashtray - I tried but again, couldn't do it, RASHA YOU WIMP). We weren't even sure that it was a lizard at first, so I used my phone to shine a light on it. "Um, yeah, Leanne, so I'm seeing feet and eyes, I'm thinking it's probably not a cigarette butt."

We kept trying to give each other pep talks - the plan was that I push the ashtray over to her, and then she'd quickly just transfer it to the next table. We tried many times. We also failed many times, and were in a hysterical fit of laughter (largely because of the terror we were feeling). We eventually asked the waiter to come and take it because we're pathetic. He clearly thought we were both mentally unsound.

This place was very cool though - colourful lanterns everywhere, outdoor seating, it was nice to be in a social atmosphere with good food. I came to the conclusion that it now feels very strange seeing European people. Especially white children. Very weird. I tried taking pictures but my camera is from the Middle Ages so the flash is really bad, you can't actually see anything.

Yeah so I basically also handwashed all my clothes this morning. In a bucket. With my hands. And I'm talking, 2 weeks' worth of laundry folks. I'm actually extremely pleased with myself. I have blisters on my knuckles to prove it - apparently my technique is all wrong, which is why I have these battle scars. They're basically like carpet burn, but the skin's actually peeling. Patience & Clara just stood there watching me, chuckling at my attempt to pretend I knew what I was doing. It made me a little self conscious but when I finished I felt this enormous sense of accomplishment. All this week I've been asking people how to do it, but everytime I asked, they'd laugh at me and say "oh no no, you can't do it - give it to me and I'll organise it". Drove me INSANE. Just show me! I'm not a complete idiot. Apparently you can give a huge bag of laundry to someone and they'll do it for 1000 Francs (about NZD$3.33), but I hate the idea of someone else doing my laundry. But I did it. I'm so proud.


(I found it a little ironic that I was listening to my iPod while I handwashed my clothing in a bucket)

I also did a very quick round of part of the Grand Marché (Market) with Patience today. I didn't get to do it properly since I was on a mission for some essential items and had limited time, but WOW I need to go back one time with just my camera and devote a post entirely to it. I've been in busy markets before, but this one? Wow. Completely jam-packed and it's gigantic - it just sprawls all over the place and doesn't seem to end. When we got home, Clara started telling me that the pickpockets there will not only cut the straps of your bag but if you make a scene they'll stab you, or, more specifically, in her words, "They will KILL YOU". Hmm... maybe I'm slightly apprehensive about going back? No, I have to. So much to buy, so little time.

Also, some pictures from the villages we went to on Thursday!

Some more goats:

Schoolchildren in their classrooms (this was HILARIOUS - these kids actually went insane whenever a picture was taken - it was like a stampede at one point, kids were falling over, it was chaos.)
The school

Spot the Yovo

Kids watching the skits

More kids

A lady selling pawpaws by the side of the roa

All In A Day's Work

Date: Wed, 5 Dec 2007

WOW. Today was an amazing day. I finally felt like I was here to do what I came for. Kind of hard to explain - but I'll try. Even though I tried to eliminate all kinds of expectations before coming here, I constantly had this picture in my mind of what I'd be doing, and today was the realisation of that picture. Note that when I say "picture" I mean an actual picture - a certain scene, certain colours, certain people, etc. It was one of those moments where your imagination, your dreams, and reality combine and you feel extremely balanced, and centred, and like everything has come full circle. It was incredible. And it's set in motion events that are probably going to last until the end of my internship. I shall explain.

Okay, so I think I mentioned before that part of what CTM does, is the teenagers/early-twentysomethings go around to various villages and perform skits and songs that aim to sensitise the local populations about children's rights. Today was our first trip out to a couple of the villages - the entire day I had this sense of well-being and wholesomeness. A couple of posts ago I was sort of down and out about the state of the world, but today was like the universe's reply to that - because I saw things, and met people, which reassured me that nothing is static. Progress is being made whether we realise it or not; there are good people in the world - lots of them! And they're doing great things. And even if we don't come into contact with a lot of them, there are forces beyond us, working behind the scenes, making things happen.

I travelled with the Director, and a few of the performers - a very long ride in a rickety old car in the scorching heat, but the entire experience was non-stop enjoyable. We all met up at 6.30am, but good old African time did it's thing and we hit the road at about 8.30am. Fine though (I almost said that I'm getting used to African time, but I'd be lying - getting better slowly though).

Me and a couple of the guys in the skits - Selom (yellow) and Dwak (white):

Squished in the backseat in the rickety old car (clearly I'm pondering some weighty questions about the world [I was actually thinking about how I'd kill for a Coke at this point])

You're probably going to have a really hard time finding me in this picture since I blend in so well.

Outside the home of the village chief

I was very apprehensive about accepting this drink since it smelled like nail polish remover. They assured me there was no alcohol, so I took a sip, nearly died, and thought it was better to leave it at that.

This guy next to me, Selom, is a life-saver. He's become my personal interpreter and it's been SUCH an enormous help. At this event they were talking about the importance of registering births and issuing birth certificates for children, and how that will affect their rights and opportunities in the future - as you can see I'm concentrating very very hard. Oh yes.

What I loved about today was that I saw in front of me people taking initiative to address issues in their communities, and they did it in a way that wasn't blaming anyone, or scolding anyone. It was light-hearted, informative (based on the translation I got), and seeing the looks on the faces of the audience was really cool - lots of nodding and sounds of agreement, lots of smiles, just a very positive atmosphere in general. We're going again tomorrow, and I can't wait. I'm determined now to learn more sentences in Ewe so that I can have some simple conversations with the locals. "My name is Rasha, I live in New Zealand" leaves more to be desired, plus I feel very lame ending it at that.

Will keep posting more pics and more of my rantings! Hope they're not heinously boring :D
By the way, does the system of most recent blog post to least recent post bother anyone else? I find it very unnatural, even though I know it's meant to be more logical. But still. Annoying.

P.S. Another insectual experience

Date: Tuesday , 4 Dec 2007

I was just thinking to myself the other day how I'm not freaking out as much about insects as I usually have, all my life. This confidence was quickly shattered, when I found the following creature on my wall just above my head as I was getting ready to sleep. Look at this monster, LOOK AT IT:

Knowing that obviously this menace to society intended to crawl into my ear/mouth/nostrils as I slept, I decided to take the situation into my own hands. Unfortunately, I couldn't deliver, as every time I started bringing my shoe closer and closer to it, I'd shudder and get this terrible chill up my spine, and couldn't follow through. I'm talking 6 or 7 failed attempts, quite pathetic of me. So I eyed my enemy some more, taunting me with its eight-leggedness, and settled for the 'if-I-can't-see-it-it's-not-there' tactic. Allow me to paint you a picture. So here I am, at about midnight, standing on my bed, holding a flashlight threateningly, eyes wide open and a red shoe in my right hand, which I used to tap the wall every 5 seconds, making sure that the tap was a good 10-15 cms away from the nasty bug. The purpose of this strategy, which I think displays military genius on my part, was to scare it away into a crack, or through a window, or just somewhere far away from me so that I wouldn't see it. WOW but no, it decided that that place would be an inaccessible corner of the wall. That was it. I took drastic measures. I grabbed my weapon of choice, a lethal bottle of Dove deoderant (thinking in my head "it's insect killer, it's insect killer") and sprayed that spider like there was no tomorrow. Sadly it didn't kill it, but caused it to run (crawl?) very quickly up into a crack in the ceiling, which I was content with. It was very hard to sleep after that. I kept having visions of it falling onto my face in mid-dream, causing me to have a heart attack and die. I chose to sleep face down.

More photos, motos, goat-o's, and unidentified flying/crawling objects

Date: Tuesday, 4 Dec 2007

Ok, so I admit I've been slightly lagging behind with the regular posts (I mean really it's just a week so I'm already doing a lot better than I expected.)

What a week - a lot has happened, lots of ups and downs, new challenges every day but at the same time new things that I'm grateful to experience and learn from, and of course there's just plain old fun.

I also realised that some people who might be reading this have no clue what I'm doing in Togo, so a quick update - I'm here on an internship until mid-January, just before I start my 4th year at uni in Feb. I'm working with an NGO called Carrefour Tiers Monde, who do a number of socio-economic development projects in Lomé (the capital) and surrounding villages. Over the past 5 years, they've started focusing on the rights of children, and in raising awareness and sensitising the population about things like child trafficking, child abuse, rights to education, health, and so on. They've got several songs in both French and Ewe (the local dialect) about these issues, which they've recorded and are in the course of recording in a studio, and they have concerts and performances around the country. They also do drama and skits as a way of conveying their messages. The kids range from the ages of 3 to the older youth that are involved, some of them in their mid-20s. So I'm doing a number of things - a bunch of translation work (we're thinking of expanding their song repertoire and having English versions of some of them), working with them during their rehearsals, on their performances, etc, teaching a bit of English, and travelling out to the villages as part of their activities to raise awareness in the villages. I'm also getting stuck into some of the statutes they have regarding child trafficking, AIDS prevention, child abuse, etc which are in French and doing some translation for that as well. I'm staying with a Togolese host family who are unbelievably hospitable and welcoming, and have been here since the 22nd of November. It's getting better every day.

Here are some pics with my host family and general everyday-ness:

Me and Patience (I seriously wouldn't survive without her - an incredibly sweet human being)


Yaoh - a cousin - who laughs everytime I speak French, but not in a mean way. He's awesome.

Me and Elom


Me engaging in the stuffing of the face - eating on the veranda with everyone is very fun:



Okay it probably would've been extremely entertaining watching me eat this, since it was deceivingly mild-looking. Rice and chicken wings, yes? No. Not yes. In fact it was spicy as heck and I nearly choked to death. I can't bring myself to complain either, because I'm ashamed of my weakness and don't want to be a high maintenance eater. I was with some others having lunch the other day and one of the girls, aged 10 returned her plate because there wasn't enough "pepe" (hot peppers). A 10 year old. I'm very ashamed of myself. Pretty sure the spiciness tolerance has skyrocketed though.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this post - having been here for almost 2 weeks now, I'm starting to settle in. Things that I found difficult or had to adapt to are getting more natural and routine, and it's a very relieving feeling. One big thing that happens without fail whenever I'm in a new country/city is that I feel trapped unless I know how to get around to essential places. I can't stand being dependent on someone else to show me how to go somewhere, or how to do something - I'd rather them show me once and then take it from there. So I know a few places and am now a pro, I repeat, A PRO, at moto-ing it. I seriously have become obsessed. They're a little more expensive than regular taxis, but I'm very willing to pay a little more for the thrill and the feeling of the fresh air around me. It's a way better view too. You get to look all around you, and go through the narrow alleys and village roads that are inaccessible by car. I've tried multiple times to get a decent pic of me on a moto, but have failed miserably since I can't stretch my arm that far - also slightly concerned that if I stretched too far I'd end up as roadkill, so this is the best I could do (note how I'm trying to look natural but am clearly smirking).

And this is one of the many views of the front

Wow. Motos. They're fantastic. Okay, so you see, I usually walk down to the internet cafe near my house, which is about 10 mins away, and when I do so, I pass by a whole bunch of men on their motos asking if I need to go somewhere - "Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, allez allez?" (allez = go). On a number of occasions, I've stopped and had a quick chat with them, obviously impressing all with my "Pardon, je ne parle francais" (Sorry I don't speak French - and no, they're not impressed, they just laugh and then talk slower as if I'm just retarded as opposed to just incapable of speaking/understanding French). One man in particular, who goes by the name of "Big Man" (this is what he told me to call him) has forged an alliance with me, and I think we've established that he's now my personal moto driver. Which is actually pretty good, since he drives pretty safely, doesn't overcharge me, and a bonus is that he speaks English so I'm not just stuttering and flailing my arms like a fool trying to explain where I want to go. He's enormous though. Like, calling him "Big Man" is very appropriate, if not inadequate. He's a cross between Seal and the guy from the Matrix. Yes.

I took this picture the other day whilst on the moto, wanting to show the waste disposal system around here - the old 'collect and dump in the middle of the locality then burn' - imagine my delight when I found a little bonus (i.e. spot the animal rhyming with boat). Seriously they're everywhere. They're alarmingly thin too. Also quite mangy. Oh relax, we all know I'm not the biggest animal lover. Mangy thin goats - nothing cute about it, admit it.

OKAY - so I was intrigued by the following from my first day here - drinking water in sachets. Check it out:

What you do its, you bite a tiny hole out of a corner and then drink. It costs 25 Francs, which is about $0.08 NZD. The first time I was offered one, someone suggested that I don't drink it and get a European brand instead otherwise I'd have 'stomach problems'. I wondered why. But I was too thirsty to be fussy, and had no problems. Yeah so sachets. Weird little sachets. What I also found surprising is that once you finish it, you just throw it on the ground. So wherever you walk, you'll find these little empty plastic sachets strewn across the ground. I still haven't brought myself to do it - I'm sure it would be very liberating but my conscience would eat away at me, so I just put the used sachet in my bag........ so that I can put it with all my other trash which gets burnt every few days. Sort of defeats the purpose of keeping the sachet in the first place I suppose.

Yes well I'm getting used to the heat - apparently so is my skin. I've had many people tell me that I'm reconnecting to my African origins and am getting darker by the day. It's funny, the other night I noticed Patience looking at my arm and then she said something in Ewe to Elom, who agreed, so I asked what they were talking about and they both hesitated to reply, as if it was something they'd rather I not know about. So I continued to stare at them kind of eagerly, and then she said "you are getting darker!" as if it was something that I'd be sad to hear. It's interesting - when I first got here I was treated like a regular 'Yovo', no questions asked, but during the past few days I've had many people ask me if I'm half-cast. My host family's stopped urging me to get out of the sun now that they realise I'm not going to go bright pink. They always stop themselves and say "ohhh of course, you are African!"

It's unbelievably hot though. If you're indoors especially, without a fan - i.e. in my office, you feel like your clothes have actually welded themselves into your skin. Slightly disgusting description, but it's actually what it feels like. And you don't want to do anything or talk to anyone, you don't want to sit, you don't want to stand. It's probably just me, actually.

WOW OKAY so this is completely irrelevant but I have to write about my taxi ride on Saturday. Okay, okay, so Sam, one of the guys at the University of Lomé took me out on Saturday morning to go check out the local museum and pass quickly through the Parliament buildings, etc. So we're sitting in the taxi, I'm squished between him and another guy on my left. So far so good, I'm used to the lack of personal space by now. Okay so then, suddenly I was sure that I felt something crawling on the back of my neck. I ignored it, not wanting to blow anything out of proportion, thinking, it's probably just my hair blowing in the wind, tickling my skin or something. But then I felt it again, and it was a definite, solid thing travelling across the nape of my neck. I started getting restless, because I thought, okay I'll just slap the back of my neck and it'll leave me alone, so I casually brushed the back of my neck, AND THEN - I feel it crawl UP, and hey, wow, cool, it's IN MY HAIR. IN MY HAIR. IN IT.
"Um, uh.. I think there's a bug in my hair"
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes, there's definitely something happening in there"
At which point I ripped my hairtie out and shook my head frantically, shaking my hair out as much as possible with my fingers, all the while, squished amongst people so I couldn't completely have a panic attack. IT WAS HORRIBLE. Then everytime I'd pause to see if I felt anything crawling... there'd be an eerie nothingness, then SUDDENLY I feel movement, repeat the freak-out cycle until I didn't feel anything. Tied the hair back up again, resumed breathing, then I feel something on the back of my left shoulder, I look, and I find this ENORMOUS, ENORMOUS weird green beetle-looking insect. IT WAS ENORMOUS.
"THERE IT IS, THAT'S IT!" Rasha starts to go mildly insane and makes strange noises.
Sam and strange man on left simultaneously start smacking Rasha's shoulder frantically. Bug is demolished.
Awful. For the rest of the day I kept replaying it, and kept feeling like things were crawling on me, absolutely paranoid. Not a fun experience.

The rest of the day was cool - the museum was very basic, but I got a short briefing about the history of Togo under German, British, and French control. It used to be bigger, but then a big chunk of it was given to the British (now part of Ghana) and the rest was under the French. Togo gained independence in 1960, and this is a monument that was built in honour of it - I really liked it. Sam explained that the woman symbolised Togo - possessing qualities of beauty, serenity, and calmness.


And this is me with Sam in front of the monument (I also go by the name of Captain Obvious):


Sam is awesome - he's been asking me to teach him some words in Arabic so now I've got him and all the other guys at the university calling each other "Habibi" and telling each other to "Yalla!" Hah.

That night, I went with the Director of CTM and some of the kids to a festival in a village called Kpalimé. Started off awesome - I loved walking through the market, talking to the sellers and their kids - most of the kids would sing at me, "Yovo, yovo, bonsoir yovo" over and over. It's very cute. I felt a little intrusive taking pictures, but these kids in particular begged me to, and every time the flash went off they'd scream in delight, it was hilarious.

A scene from the village:


(Yes, I know, the picture is awful and blurry, but I was being very surreptitious about my photo-taking so as not to irritate anyone)

Sunday was a nice chill-out day - I went with the uni folk to a huge Trade Fair just outside the city - people came from Benin, Burkina Faso, Cote d'Ivoire, Ghana, all over the place, to participate - very enjoyable.

So... me and the folk
So yes, that was the weekend. I'm starting to feel like I have things to do, places to go - even though it's been less than 2 weeks, I feel like my eyes have been opened to a completely different world. Many things are hitting home for me, and it's sometimes very difficult to deal with, even just coming to terms with it within myself. Like.. you hear about all the problems in Africa: the political instability, poverty, famine, disease, underdeveloped infrastructure, everything, but today I had an experience that made me see it in a completely different light.



I met this little girl today, her name is Ava Shalom, she's a 2 year old AIDS sufferer, and also lost her mother to AIDS. I'm going to be honest, I hesitated about whether I should write about this publicly, or even put this photo up. I'm not sure why - I didn't know if it was something I should just keep to myself and reflect on. But I've decided that I do want to share this, because it impacted me really strongly and got me thinking. So like I said, you hear about all the problems in developing countries and I think a lot of what I've been exposed to in relation to that has been purely academic - reports, statistics, UN resolutions, governments as well as NGOs and charities that work to analyse or eradicate these problems. Meeting Ava suddenly pushed all those things I've learned out of my head, and all I saw in front of me was a little girl, who had already lived her 2 years on this earth in pain, suffering and difficulty, and it was unlikely to end anytime soon. It really got to me.

She was a little shy at first, came over to me apprehensively and looked at me with a curious expression on her face. I smiled at her and held my hands out to see if she'd come closer, she took a few more steps towards me and then let me pick her up and put her on my lap. As I held her there, staring at her, I was overcome with a heaviness in my heart. Here was this child, born into circumstances completely beyond her control, and her future was already set. Who knows how long her life will be or what turns it will take. To be honest, I felt really angry. It really affected me. Someone so innocent and pure was faced with such an enormous test, and then on the other hand, it's so easy for me to live my life and just read about all these cases from a distance. These cases aren't just cases. They are real people, real lives, real destitution, hardship and tragedy. It's everywhere too. I mean it's one thing reading a heartbreaking story, but having someone (especially a toddler) who is experiencing such a thing in such close personal contact, it made me realise that this is much closer to home than I've ever thought. Instead of generalised accounts of suffering across the continent, here I had a human being, who feels joy, sorrow, pain - who smiles, who cries, and whose eyes I can look into and feel serenity and sense her child-like spirit. What she's lived through is all she knows, but at the same time she doesn't know that this is part of an enormous worldwide problem. All she knows is what she experiences, and she will come to know more pain, more loss, and more difficulty. I hated the fact that I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop looking at her while she was on my lap, thinking about what kind of a person she was going to become, how her life would have turned out otherwise, and what she was going to see, feel, think about it all.

I look around me, and see people living lives of struggle. Nothing is easy. But, having said that, life is simple. You just live, and you're grateful for everything you do have, as opposed to focusing on what's lacking. That's definitely one of the biggest lessons I've learned. I mean it's one of those things you're subconsciously aware of, but sometimes it takes a shock to the system to make you remember this. No matter what it is that you don't have, you still have something. Whatever that something is, even if it's miniscule, be grateful that you have it.

And then, looking at my own situation, I actually feel ashamed. Yes, I often have moments where I really just want the things I'm used to. I miss my house, my towels, my bathrobe, my bed, my washing machine, my car, mochaccinos, chocolate, air conditioning, fresh tap water (or running water in general), clean toilets & showers, pizza, movie theatres, accessible phone and internet, constant electricity supply, and trust me, many other things. But then I think to myself - okay, so in 5 weeks, I'll have all those things. I'll probably eventually forget that I missed them. But then most, if not all, the people I've met are still getting on with life, and they're happy, and they have faith, and again, are in a constant state of gratitude and appreciate the simple things in life. I ask myself how I dare to even come close to complaining, even if it's only in my head.

We don't realise how easy we have it. (I'm sorry I don't mean to preach, just thinking out loud because it's been a big knot in my head that's been dying to be untangled - I'm really just referring to myself). I know that everyone has their own tests and hardships, and that it's all relative, but I compare my situation with those who I live around, and wonder why they have it so hard. Hey, that's probably relative too - I mean to them, it's just life, and like I said, they seem content most of the time. I think it's going to be very strange going back home, or to my parents in Bahrain - I'll probably have that feeling where I'm wondering if Togo even happened. Still, every now and then, I'll be walking somewhere and suddenly feel disconnected from myself, like I'm watching myself from above, and I wonder - is that actually me? Am I awake? Is this seriously happening?

I can't believe it's been almost 2 weeks already. That's insane. I bet you by the time it hits home that I'm actually here it'll be time to leave.

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).