A Long Walk to Work

I live less than three minutes away from the clinic in village, and yet, I have never found myself there in three minutes. Walking the 50 or so feet to the clinic usually takes about 10 minutes. It’s not because the path I take there isn’t straightforward or is terribly arduous, but rather, my time on each walk is filled with greeting each and every person I pass on my way. Something I learned quickly, and quite forcefully, is the power of salutations in Togo. What should be my three-minute walk is tripled in time because I have learned that salutations are a necessity and not just a nicety.

When I say salutation, I do not mean a simple, “Bonjour, comment ça va?” [Good morning, how are you?] If only it was that easy, and if only it was in French too. The greeting I’m expected to rehearse on my walk to the clinic, when I see my neighbors, on my walk to market, before I buy my toilet paper, and when I pass by anyone, is much more complex and is done completely in the local language, Ewe. A proper greeting includes inquiring about how your family is, how your kids are, how the home is, how the work of today is (if it’s the late afternoon), how the work of yesterday was (if it’s the morning), or even how the work of the day before yesterday was (if you didn’t see the person the day before), and of course, it ends with a series of thank yous and goodbyes:

Aʄémetɔwoɖe?         [How is the family?]
Deviwόɖe?               [How are the kids?]
Axɔmetɔwoɖe?        [How is the home?]
Kondjitɔwoɖe?        [How is the clinic?]
Egbe be dɔ?             [How is the work of today?]
Etsɔ be dɔ?               [How is the work of yesterday?]
Nyitsɔ be dɔ?           [How is the work of more than two days ago?]

Each greeting goes through this same routine—whether I am the one who inquires about the family, or if it’s the other person. The response to each question is always the same, “it’s fine,” even for my non-existent kids, they’re fine too.

If I don’t hear someone trying to greet me, if I’m in a rush, or if I’m just plain tired (which I am a lot) and I neglect to greet someone—well that’s just about the end for me because they will chew my ear off demanding, “Why didn’t you greet me? Why did you do a bad salutation?” The first time this happened to me, I was shocked to be called out so terribly, but this also made me realize how important greetings and relationships are to the Togolese—hence the necessity not just the nicety.

The strength of the salutation here reflects the strength of community between the Togolese. Relationships and the sense of community are privileged over work, money, material items—and much to my dismay, being on time. There is no such thing as being in a rush or being late—there is always time for greeting someone. The Togolese are so invested in building and strengthening relationships, that if you are greeting them while they are eating, you will always hear, “mangeons,” which means “we eat” in French. This saying is an invitation—an invitation that cannot be refused—for you to eat with them. They will offer you the food they are eating even if they don’t have enough for themselves or more commonly, their kids. The invitation to eat food, food that is not sufficient for the whole family and the long routine of salutations reflects a culture that is built on relationships and community. This strong sense of community motivates me to keep learning the local language and greetings—even if that means that my walks to and from home will always be long and I will be perpetually late. Maybe I need to redefine “on time” or I suppose I could always leave earlier.


A photo of me with my head nurse (white shirt), his wife (on the left), a Peace Corps trainer (far front right), my other nurse (orange shirt), and my pharmacist (far back right).


This photo was taken just a few minutes after this little boy was born! He was the first birth I’ve watched.


My side-yard in the morning before the fog has risen. I am not expected to greet the goats as formally.