Yep, That’s Happening

I was recently reading an article that discussed some of the negative implications of the Sex Offender Registry Act, one being that there end up being a number of individuals who are placed on the list due to crimes such as public urination.  As I was reading this I laughed out loud, not because I find sex offenders funny, but because I thought of the absurdity of trying to implement a similar policy where I live now.  If the Sex Offender Registry existed in Togo and had the same side effects of the act in the U.S., roughly every single man in Togo would be on the registry.

Public urination is entirely common here in Togo.  It is mostly men who frequently urinate in public, though when on long voyages women will as well.  Women tend to be a bit more discrete, but men will just whip it out wherever they are and whoever is around. On some walls you find signs spray painted on saying “deffense d’uriner,” but everyone continues to urinate publicly.  To my American sensibilities it can be sometimes shocking as I am walking down the street and a man shouts my name to say hello and start a conversation only to see that at the time he is holding his penis and urinating. All I can really do to cope is acknowledge to myself that, “yep, that’s happening” and I just shout “hello,” look the other way and hurry on.

Some men are more discrete and find a spot in the bushes, but there are some more brazen, and in Lomé I have passed one man literally standing in the middle street urinating.  There are those Togolese that oppose this common behavior and recognize its dirtiness, but there are no facilities really to give people an option not to do so.  There are very few public restrooms to be found here.  A few villages have constructed public latrines, but not many.  Bars often only have a “urinoir” or basically a walled in piece of ground to pee on. With cultural habits it is also unlikely that someone would ever ask to use another person’s restroom, especially if it is inside their house.

I know I’ve battled with the lack of public restrooms, particularly if I am ever out of my house for the whole day or traveling.  I find myself avoiding drinking water to limit the chances I’ll have need of a restroom and have found myself with a dehydration headache at the end of long work days.  The gender difference with this issue is quite evident and male volunteers end up having a much easier time as it is appropriate socially for them to urinate in public, but for women the general rule is to hold it until you get home.  You know, you don’t want to get put on that registry for showing your bum in public or anything!

Je Vois la Vie en Savanes

A couple of weeks ago I ventured up to what may well be one of the most beautiful places in Togo.  I took a couple of days off to travel north to the Savannah “Savanes” region to see a good friend.  It was, and unfortunately probably will be, my only time that I have visited the most northern region of Togo.  After spending over a year living in the relatively flat and often seeming characterless southern region of Maritime, Savanes was wonderful to see. 

Now, my deeming Savanes as being the most beautiful in Togo is a bit colored by the fact that I saw the region during the rainy season, when it is its most lush, and that I haven’t yet seen some of the most noted beautiful places like the waterfalls in Badou. But seeing it still made me wish I had been placed up there so that, even for part of the year, I could be surrounded by so much beauty.

At the time I went there happened to be a group of volunteers visiting Savanes and we rented a car to go see one of the few official tourist sites in Togo, the Nano caves.  We were dropped off at the bottom of a rocky crag of a mountain and took ourselves on a self-guided hike, which led us through a number of rice patties and cornfields, to the top.  The hike took about two hours, but by the time we were three quarters of the way up we had to stop for a break, at which point some women from the village below carrying large containers of a local beverage on their heads and not wearing shoes overtook us, even though we started out a good time before them.  We may have felt a little ashamed, but we quickly settled into that reality as we took our second rest.  I could have easily predicted such a thing, I currently live in a very flat life where I go months at a time without even mounting two stairs at a time, I ride my bike and walk around town, but beyond some rolling hills there isn’t really anything to climb, and the hike’s ascent was pretty steep and I just wasn't prepared (flip flops and all) for the hike.

At the top an expert from the local village showed us down a rickety ladder of welded rebar to the caves that are found in the mountainside.  These low ceilinged caves were inhabited in the 14^th century when warring ethnic groups drove people to flee to safe hiding places.  The caves still have the clay granaries used at the time, and our guide so thoughtfully pointed out the flat rock which was definitely used for milling grain, and the other flat rock where the elders sat and had their war council. The caves really are quite interesting and a clever hiding spot, but I couldn't imagine living there and not being able to stand up straight for months at a time.

Our driver was kind enough to drive up to the top of the mountain to bring us back down to the regional capital of Dapaong, where my friend is posted and the other volunteers were staying, so that we could wage a losing battle with a bar’s TV to watch the Olympics.  A day later I found myself back in good ol’ Maritime. I rarely get out of my post to do anything besides work and visiting the north, though it was very short, was a wonderful little vacation where I got to see a great person, eat some good food and demonstrate my complete lack vertical climbing endurance.  Je Vois la Vie en Savanes.