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.

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.

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.

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.

I feel like I'm not awake

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

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

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

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