Vignettes from Three Months in Togo

A Host of New Experiences
As a Peace Corps volunteer, I work every day of the week, every hour of the day, and I don’t have the weekend days of Saturday and Sunday to relax. Those two days, in fact, are some of the busiest I’ve experienced when it comes to my work. Two important jobs I hold as a volunteer are 1) to stay alive and 2) to integrate into my community. With regard to these roles, Saturday and Sunday are invaluable days to me.

Saturday was the market day in my training village. Each Saturday after eating lunch with my host family I would visit the market with the other volunteers. We would buy the basic necessities such as soap, peanut butter, toilet paper, and of course the wonderful fabric pagne (and a lot of it) to make new clothes. The market is not like any other grocery shopping experience: the prices are not fixed, the items are not arranged in any type of pattern, and the language spoken is most certainly not English. With that being said, the market is both exhilarating and exhausting. I practiced my price-negotiating skills in a different language—French—while participating in my own little scavenger hunt as I sought out goods.

Sundays have been for laundry and church. I have to wash my laundry by hand and let it air-dry, and since my clothes get dirty here very easily, I find myself doing a lot of laundry each Sunday. I am lucky if I can finish it in less than two hours. Not only does laundry take a long time, but it is hard. The first few times I washed my clothes, I had some really terrible rug burns and cuts on my wrist and fingers—cuts that would heal just in time for the next laundry day. I have found that hand- washing my clothes is the best way to remove the stains from my clothing. I do miss the washer and drier back home. I especially miss them on days when it rains and I have to run to the clothesline before a downpour and hope that my clothes will dry inside sometime in the near future.

Sunday morning church with my host family was a challenge and a blessing. I went to Pentecostal church with my host mom and brothers, and I was lucky because church only lasted two hours. For others, church may be three or four hours. Church was challenging because the service was mostly in the local language with some of the readings translated into French. I didn’t understand much at all, but I was able to recognize when I need to bow my head or stand for prayer. And, rather than passing most of the time sitting in the pew going through the ritual of reading, listening and praying, Church consisted mostly of singing and dancing—two hours of singing and dancing. We sang to songs I didn’t know the words to nor understand, and we danced along to the songs using steps I had never before practiced. At the sound of the amplified drums and guitars, the whole congregation would simultaneously stand and sing together with synchronized dance. Meanwhile, I found myself in the middle of a row of seats trying to find the courage to risk embarrassment and dance along with everyone else. In a few weeks’ time, Church became more comfortable, and it became a blessing and integrated me with my host family and community.

Me with my host family

From Trainee to Volunteer
I officially swore-in as a Peace Corps volunteer on Friday, August 17th at the US Ambassador’s house. The swear-in ceremony is a celebrated event in Togo and was broadcast on National TV. In fact, my neighbors in the village were excited to tell me that they watched me on TV. I swore-in with 49 other volunteers--making 50 of us in total--and we all wore matching pagne based on the sector we serve in, either education, health or agriculture.

Before swearing-in, I had to pass a French exam having achieved an "intermediate-high" level of French. Until then, I was just a trainee and was living with a host family in a village with the other volunteers. After the swearing in, I live in my own house in a small village, separated from all the volunteers. The closest to me now is about about six miles away.

All three sectors—agriculture, health, and education—wearing matching pagne, respectively, at our swear-in ceremony

The health sector

English No More

I came to Togo with very little knowledge of French, though I did audit two semesters of beginner’s level French. Three months into my Peace Corps service, I have tested into an "advanced low" level of French. Three months is a short time to grow from "novice-low" to "advanced-low," and I attribute my progress to the fact that I speak French and only French 24/7 in my village. Even while I was in training, we had at least two hours a day dedicated to French, and sometimes full days with nothing but French. In my new home, I never speak English, and even though the nurse I work with can understand English, we converse in French. Speaking a different language all day is challenging and exhausting, but it’s also a critical part of my two important jobs—staying alive and integrating into the community.

Teaching a middle-school class on Malaria, all in French

First Day Tidings

In mid-August, I moved into my house in the village of about 1,500 people where I am to be posted for the remainder of my time. Just as first days do, many surprises welcomed me. Some were good, and some were, well, surprising. I was happy to find that the proprietor had cemented in and attached my porch door which would keep the goats, sheep and their droppings off my porch during the night. I was happy to find that the hole in my wall where the ceiling attached was filled, so that stopped the bats from flying into my bedroom at night. Yet, as happy as I was that the bats were prevented from entering, I was surprised to find several current bats were cemented in. In other words, they couldn’t get out. The first night on site as a volunteer, I slept in the company of three incredibly loud, squealing bats that were trying to make their way out of my house to the outside.

I was happily surprised to hear that the latrine truck was coming to empty out my water-filled and bug-infested latrine. And, I was just as surprised to watch that truck drive all the way up to my house, through the low-hanging electricity lines and the small little foot path that leads to my door, taking out branches and everything else in its path. These surprises come in good faith—in time the bats will leave, and the latrine has been emptied. The first days in any new place are never easy.

My two-room house

The latrine truck next to my porch

My latrine and shower

So Now What?
So here I am in my village for the next 24 months. I don’t have a strict schedule of planned events like I did in my training village, and now I must create my own schedule, take the initiative and make efficient use of all the time I have. Each morning I spend at the local clinic, which is only about a two-minute walk away from my house. I am getting to know the nurse, pharmacist and birth attendant. I have observed pre-natal consultations with expecting mothers, baby weighing and vaccination campaigns, which take place each Friday, and I have observed many, many, kids and adults come into the clinic with Malaria.

In the afternoons, I work with my counterpart in the community to complete surveys: I have three months to complete 73 needs-based surveys within the community. These needs-based assessments will inform the future work and projects I will start in December.

In the meantime, I am boiling water everyday to run through my water filter. I am showering twice daily in my outdoors shower. I am cooking every meal on my own, except for the days when I can buy some pretty delicious street meat in the market. Having only been here for about two weeks, I’ve only dared to cook eggs, toast, rice, and spaghetti. I’m still working on figuring out where I can buy chicken, fruit, vegetables and other ingredients to make new dishes—in due time that will come.

My clinic

My very own neighborhood watch—the kids who love to play with me on my porch every afternoon