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.

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.

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:

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.

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

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).