Do It Yourself

“Do it yourself” a concept that seems foreign here in Togo.  As you know, when it rains my roof has been leaking and my windows have been flooding my kitchen.  If I was in the States I would easily pop over to my local Home Depot to pick up a few supplies and voila my leaks would be fixed (OK I’m no roofer… my windows would at least be no problem).  But here, it’s another story.

I consider myself somewhat of a do-it-yourselfer, and when I can I do a project myself.  If there is a project to do, I can figure out what tools to use and find them easily.  Here, not only is the tool I’m looking for possibly not available, but it’s also possible I don’t know the name of the tool in French and neither does the salesman. 

In order to fix my windows my answer was caulk.  I found the French translation and sought out caulk at the local store.  No one knew what I was talking about.  I resorted to describing the product…my problem…my ideas on how to fix it…I was offered paint and when I turned that down, motorcycle sealant.

With my failed attempt to buy my preferred product I resorted to trying to seal up the cracks with aluminum foil I harvested from chocolate bars.  The first big rainstorm though proved that my candy wrappers and scotch tape were not sufficient to keep out the rains.  I made a second attempt to explain my problem and this time with some success the salesman suggested a new product that I don’t know the name of in French, Ewe, or English.  It’s a foil like tape with tar-like glue on the back.  It has yet to be tested by a torrential rain but I’m hopeful all the cracks have been sealed.

After finding the product, convincing everyone that I can do it myself was another obstacle.  The salesman was very confused when I explained I wanted to fix it myself.  He repeatedly told me to hire a carpenter to tape my window and when I said I’d do it myself he said he’d find a carpenter for me.  When I showed my landlord that I have found something to solve my problem, too, he also said a carpenter could come and install it.  He showed his doubt, but I let him know “I’m American I can do many things.”  He was doubtful and decided he had to come and survey my work after which he said he might need to do the same with the other apartments.  This isn’t the first time I’ve wowed the Togolese with my handy-man skills.  When I first moved in I wanted to change my locks and I did it myself.  When my homologue stopped in and saw I did it myself he gave me a high-five. 

It’s not just because I am female that I am not expected to do construction-type projects myself, but in general people do not do any specialized tasks for themselves.  Everyone has their specific jobs and if you have something you need done—a construction project, or something to be sewn—you go to the person who has that profession.  When you want a quick fix this can be tough for a do it yourself person like me.

The Rains Down in Africa

We are currently finishing up the rainy season here in Togo.  Unlike in the States where we have four seasons, in Togo we only have two seasons wet and dry.  The wet season of course means rain and a bit cooler weather.  The rains can be both a curse and a blessing.  With each rainstorm my roof leaks and my floor floods (two issues I am currently trying to resolve—but fixing a roof in the rain isn’t always so simple).  But the rains also cool off a hot day and an early morning rain keeps neighbors inside creating a peace that lets me sleep past six am.

When it rains the whole world stops.  With the first drops everyone flees like cats facing a bath to the nearest shelter and no one budges until the rain stops.  Rain or shine in the US you are expected to get to your appointments on time, but here rain halts all business.  If you have a meeting it’s cancelled, or at least won’t start until a good while after the rain stops.

I’ve been given the excuses that umbrellas and rain jackets aren’t available here so no one could be expected to walk in the rain, but I don’t buy it—those things are available here if you choose to buy them.  There are good excuses though why the rainy season is known for its lack of productivity.  When it rains transportation is very limited.  Motos are absolutely miserable and unsafe in the heavy downpours and of the cars available they rarely have windshield wipers that work and the windows are perpetually stuck down.  Being in a taxi where the driver is reaching out his window to wipe the muddy cracked windshield with rag in the rain is an experience that can leave you fearing for your own life and especially for those poor souls who happen to sharing the road.

The roads themselves also suffer.  After a rainstorm roads and bridges are washed away and the unpaved roads are turned into mud.  The flooding after the rains can also impede travel making roads completely impassable.  In training we were warned about this and told to work our project schedules around the rainy season, because, while the rains can be beautiful and provide a well appreciated reprieve, in a flash all the big plans of construction or those meetings you had can be washed away thanks to a bit of precipitation.

A Glowing Family

This past weekend we Maritimers got together to send off a few volunteers who will be completing their service this month.  It was a fete of pizza, birthday cake, and glow sticks.  I can’t speak for all of the regions of Togo, but in Maritime glow sticks appear to be a party staple.  A seemingly random gift that keeps reappearing in care packages from home, glow sticks make an appearance at many of our get-togethers.

Glow sticks manage to provide us with endless entertainment.  Dancing with bodies adorned with glowing jewelry, having mock roller-skating competitions, wearing togas, and playing games in the dark, the locals think that we are quite an oddity.  Questions are asked about what ceremony we are performing and people lurk off to the side watching the strange ways of the Americans.  The Togolese must have extraordinary ideas about what American culture is from the brief glimpses our glowing celebrations.

One of the objectives of the Peace Corps is for volunteers to be ambassadors teaching our host countries about our culture and bringing their culture home with us.  When we come together we are a family, we work, gossip, and play together.  In a strange land we support each other and do our best to show the Togolese our most bizarre American habits.  I can only imagine what the average Togolese person thinks about American culture and how the small glimpses of Togolese life that we get while living here cannot really encapsulate the entire peoples of Togo.

Hello, My Name is Not Yovo

As a foreigner one of the first things you’ll notice is that many people, particularly children call you “yovo”.  This word literally means “white” in local language and it is frequently shouted whenever I or any other white person passes by.

Having “yovo” shouted at you from across the street, in the market, and well everywhere you go can be very tiring.  Some people are making an attempt to actually speak to me, but others seem to be shouting just to shout at me.  Not being able to blend in and being noticed and pointed out all the time is really what gets to me, not the word yovo in particular.

The Peace Corps makes efforts to decrease the amount of yovoing that occurs by sensitizing our Togolese trainers, host families, and counterparts to the impoliteness of calling us yovos.  Many people here, however, do not understand what could be wrong with calling someone what they are. 

In the US, not pointing out peoples’ differences and not labeling people is one of those things that is emphasized to American children.  A two-headed man can walk down the streets and it’s true that people will take a second look, but if a child points out that person they would be scolded.  Thanks to our history skin color or race can be a particularly touchy topic, but in a place that doesn’t have the same tumultuous past of racial issues, the idea of labeling someone by the color of their skin doesn’t register as offensive.

One of my fellow volunteers provided me with a hypothesis about yovo that I rather liked.  The Togolese are very accustomed to labels in general.  An individual in this culture is known by their profession or other notable characteristic: A doctor is “doctor” and a teacher is “teacher.” Labels create an understandable place for an individual in the community and it is not rude and even needed in this culture.  Extending a custom of labeling people to the rarity that is a white person finds a place for this new person.  This stranger is the “white man” with a label and a place.  Even with a possible way of understanding the behavior I can’t help but still be annoyed by being shouted at all the time.

When I came for my post visit to Vogan during stage I was greeted by a welcome committee made up of a number of individuals who I may end up working with.  My homologue explained to the committee about not calling me “yovo” and one teacher in response told me not to get angry with the children who call me “yovo” because children are taught to call white people yoyo from a young age with a little song of “yovo yovo bonsoir…”  I found myself giving a speech that sounded so much like something from the era of civil rights I almost had to laugh at myself.  I told them that I understood, but that I wanted to be known for the work I do and who I am, not by the color of my skin.

However, it is not only children who call me “yovo” but also many adults and not all of them with the innocent please the children get by singing a song.  I do my best not to get angry at these people and to explain that it is impolite to address me as “yovo.”  For those who shout “yovo” at me I tell them that if they want to speak with me they can call me madam or by my name that I do not respond to “yovo.”  There are a few people who have latched onto the idea and there are even a number of Togolese community members who will correct others that call me “yovo.” 

There is no stopping everyone from calling me “yovo,” but it I can’t help being affected by it.  I suppose I just want to be treated like anyone else.  Every other woman is addressed as “madame” if someone wishes to speak with them.  I want to receive the same treatment as every other person and not be singled out.  Being me, but still part of the crowd is definitely something I miss about America, a country built on diversity.

Squeaky Clean

There are a few things I have learned about the Togolese; one is that they like to be very clean in both home and body.  Here you are expected to bathe two or three times a day and some host mothers have been known to brag about how wonderfully clean their volunteer is if they bathe a few times a day. 

I can understand the desire to bathe more than once in the day.  It can be immensely hot and humid during the day and getting sweaty is unavoidable.  For some reason it also just seems to be easier to get dirty here.  With dirt roads and no grass everything gets very dusty very fast and I have not felt so grimy so often in a long time.

Making a clean house and property is another high priority.  Everyday the whole house is swept along with the yard.  As diligent as Americans are with tending their lawn, my Togolese family makes sure their open space of dirt is smooth and debris free.  This diligence towards cleanliness, however, does not extend beyond ones own space. 

All of Togo is a trash can.  In Togo the idea of a dump or trash collection is nearly nonexistent.  Togolese families dump their trash just off their living space and roads and public spaces are littered with garbage.  Shower water and animal feces are also included in the rubbish.  Plastic bags are often the largest portion of the trash in the streets.  Every purchase is placed into a black plastic bag, drinks are served in plastic baggies, and ice cream treats come in a small plastic packet.  All of this packaging and all other trash is just tossed in the street.

Not only is all the garbage odorous and ugly it also poses major health issues.  Excessive amounts of waste makes areas for water to pool creating breeding grounds for mosquitoes.  In a region plagued with the most deadly types of malaria, minimizing the breeding mosquitoes is of immense importance.

The spread of diarrheal and parasitic diseases is also increased by high levels of pollution.  Animal dung and waste water tossed into the streets impacts water sources and acts as a reservoir for disease that people walk though and play in every day.

It would seem that finding a way to get people to take as much pride in their communities and country as they do in their own homes would help solve this problem.  But without the resources dedicated toward garbage collection and a place to put trash you cannot expect people to stop just throwing their trash on the ground.

It's a Boy! (July 18, 2011)

Last night my sixteen year old sister gave birth to a baby boy.  While I had noticed that she was pregnant we had never discussed it.  In the middle of the night I was awoken by the screams of labor and the arrival of the midwife and some female family members.  I was not included in the birth itself, but was handed the baby in the morning.

My sister does not have a man in her life, and is/was an apprentice with a tailor.  Having a baby means she will have to pay a fine to her master and potentially lose her apprenticeship.  Her father also just came to speak to me because he does not know who the father of the baby is and my sister will not say who it is.  As surprising as it might be, he was actually coming to me for advice.  He explained to me how without knowing the father there is no means of supporting a new baby and with a baby Mary cannot continue to work making two mouths to feed for my father, not just one.  All I could tell him was to talk to her explain what he has to me.  Be honest and open and hopefully she will see the importance of sharing who the father is. 

Unfortunately my sister is not unique in her situation.  There are many young girls who become pregnant while in school or an apprenticeship, and after becoming pregnant can no longer work or continue school.  They become dependent on there families or if they are lucky the man who got them pregnant will marry them.

Beyond not being aware of contraceptives women here are regarded sadly as very cheap.  Men convince young girls to have sex with them by offering gifts like cell phones and tragically the girls think that that’s all they are worth.  These practices have also been institutionalized at schools where young women can struggle to get an education, not only combating economic pressure and the stresses of school that affect everyone but also the pressure to have sexual relationships with their teachers.

Coming from the US it is obscene to think of a teacher having sex with his young students.  A teacher is supposed to be someone who a student can trust to guide them in their decisions, and encourage a student’s success.  In Togo, however, it is common for teachers to solicit sex from their students.  Whether by offering a good grade, or threatening failure, teachers enter into sexual relationships that are extremely damaging to a young girl’s success in school.  This contributes to distractions that lead to poorer performance in school and to drop out rates.

Scarily though, there is no understanding that these types of behaviors hurt these young girls.  The men who participate are no inherently bad people, but it is seen as a man’s right to have a woman.  It is a cultural issue that cannot be solved simply by encouraging women to stay in school or use contraceptives, but the mentality of the worth and role of women must be changed and demonstrate the ways that a man’s behavior negatively impacts women and consequently many other aspects of society.  

A Diplomatic Enlightenment

Prior to coming to Togo I tried to do some research on the country, but honestly there isn’t much literature out there.  With limited information, a history of a military dictatorship, and stereotypes about other African nations it was easy to make assumptions.  On paper Togo looks like a pretty typical third world country and it doesn’t really stand out one way or another.

Actually being in the country provides a new perspective, but it is still a limited one.  Living in country we have been able to hear the perspectives of our Togolese trainers and families, but it is rare to hear an American perspective on Togo.  The other day, however, the soon to be retired American ambassador to Togo came to talk to us about the history and political climate in Togo.

While I can’t much discuss the politics of Togo, I was very interested in the American perspective on the recent elections that were tightly controlled through international efforts (In spite of the efforts made there are still a few people who believed the elections to have been fraudulent). 

In some ways though, it is actually the lack of international and specifically American presence in Togo that I found so interesting.  Unlike all three bordering countries (Ghana, Benin, and Burkina Faso) Togo receives nearly no aid from the US and has been left out of other international aid projects.  Togo is a country stuck in the middle.  Including health there are many areas in which Togo desperately needs improvement, but there are few places that Togo sticks out.  Fortunately and unfortunately Togo does not currently stand out.  There are no genocides, military coups, terrorist threats, or massive HIV/AIDS epidemics, but also few development prospects.  There are few things that are perfect in Togo, but it seems that according to various aid funds there is even less really really wrong.

Being left behind in receiving aid has left Togo in a vulnerable spot as the countries surrounding it advance with international help.  Togo has been making efforts to not be left behind.  It seeks to not fall victim to receiving the crime that is pushed out of bordering countries.  While there is still a long way to go, the efforts are a step in the right direction