The Things He Carried:
$47 US
2GB USB Flashdrive
60GB Video Ipod (Black)
70,000 CFA
All Work Related Notebooks
Canon SD600 Digital Camera with Charger and Computer Wires
Cell Phone Charger
Clothing
Letter Received from Lizzie and Reply Letter to be Sent
NorthFace Bag
Passport
Peace Corps ID Card
Revo Sunglasses
Togolese Bank Account Card
Togolese Laisser Passer
Toothbrush/Shampoo/Razor/Beard Trimmer/other Toiletries
Travel Belt
Wachovia Visa Debit Card
Lists are Sometimes Fun!
Above could be understood as a list of items any potential Peace Corps volunteer should bring from the U.S. Or it could be a list of some young professional who just had to clear out his cubicle and has one bag to pack everything. Perhaps it could even be a “time to cross international borders because of an emergency, and this is an inventory of the contents of my only luggage” list.
Instead, this is a list of things that should never be kept in one bag unless you are in a bunker waiting for radiation to dissipate. It is a list of things once owned but are now floating around Kara, Ouagadougou, or some port in Central America. The list is mine, and it constitutes everything that was robbed from me on Wednesday (and almost everything i brought with me from the U.S.).
Wednesday
The day began innocently enough. I was headed to Kara with some friends to discuss plans for Club Espoir (monthly club for AIDS orphans at AED Kara). We met in Kanté and the car was “ready” to go. To be fair to the driver, I did not see any smoke coming into the car when we started down the street. 200 meters into the trip we overheated, and lazily rolled into a gas station parking. The driver opened the hood, sucked liquid out of one part of the engine and spat it into another. 15 minutes later we are on the road again.
For the first 2 kilometers of the trip to Kara the road is flat. The there is fairly gigantic obstacle after kilometer 2, Mt. Defali (let us call it Mt. Deathali). A few weeks ago an oil truck went off the unpaved road where there are no guardrails, and plunged to the bottom of the mountain killing the driver. Amazingly (or not, I don’t know the new technology in gasoline truck safety) the truck did not blow up, and people came from many kilometers away to siphon off some free petrol.
Unfortunately this is one of many stories of disasters on this mountain. Interestingly enough, this is not even the most dangerous mountain pass in the country.
Anyway, the car made it about a third of the way up the mountain before the driver could not ignore the cloud of smoke suffocating everyone. He tinkered with the engine for another few minutes, and then he did something spectacular.
Rolling down an incline in neutral while pumping the clutch can start manual transmission engines. Usually the front of the car is pointing towards the bottom of the hill while executing this technique. This driver decided he could start this car while rolling down the mountain in reverse. Miraculously (I never believed in miracles), after failing to start the car and continuing to roll and roll and roll, the driver finally and painfully completed the maneuver. He jerked the car into first gear and tried to get up that mountain. Nope. Of course it just overheated within 15 seconds, leaving us stranded on the side of this mountain. I had an opportunity to take some wonderful pictures that I hope some random Togolese thief is enjoying.
A car came not long after the break down and it was actually an uneventful remainder of the trip. The only thing worth noting was the baby sitting behind me that had smelled as if she had defecated in her pants three days prior.
Liberation?
After a night of shooting pool in Chateau, we decided to continue the night at a place called Bar La Jet Set. The man working there was extremely nice and wished us all a happy new year. We sat down, and about 5 minutes later, I wanted to get my Ipod out of my bag (which was between my legs under my chair). The rest of the story kind of writes itself. When I asked the guy working at the bar if he had seen my bag he told me he had just seen a guy running out of his bar with my bag. I guess he forgot to tell us while it was happening. The robber was drinking in the bar when we got there. 1:30am on a Wednesday night. He was the only drinker. I am pretty sure he is a local, a townie if you will. Of course no one knew him!!! OF COURSE!
The rest of the night included trips around the neighborhood and the police station, where I was asked to give my report to the police officer, who documented the report in a giant notebook. The report filed before mine was titled “Vol de Football”. Frustrated, I went to bed. The following days included more trips to the bar and the police station. I think everyone in Kara knows about the bag, and I have offered all kinds of rewards to find the stupid thing.
It is now Sunday and of course there are no developments. The bag is gone with all my music, pictures, work, money, and style. No one was hurt, and that is about the only good thing that has come of this event. Perhaps this can be viewed as one of those liberating events in ones life where they cut themselves off from the material luxuries that are so insignificant in the long run. Music would be nice though. I hope my Ipod makes a nice $300 paperweight.
I had planned this entry to be about my day touring Kanté with the writer for the Rough Guide, and it was going to be one of those, “it is nice to be here” entries. Next time!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
Never knew I hated cockroaches until today
Cockroaches have never really been my favorite, actually I used to be indifferent to them. How often do you really see cockroaches. Even if your apartment is filthy (which all of them in D.C. were), you never really see them. And they are SMALL.
Not in Kante. Since I arrived, I do not use the latrine at night because there are usually around 15 lurking in and around the latrine. So I did what any american would do. I bombed the place. I bought the most expensive western roach bait Lome had to offer. Then I bought the most expensive roach spray imported to Togo. The spray even has a special cloaking device that makes it smell like febreeze. Now when you deplete the ozone, and murder your innocent brain cells, you can smell good doin' it.
Well after spraying and baiting, the problem was solved.
Until this morning.
I am not kidding when I tell you I killed over 100 cockroaches. I have pictures to prove it. I will post them.
For now I must go. Surprising the internet works here in kante.
pictures to follow. A little vomit just came up.
Not in Kante. Since I arrived, I do not use the latrine at night because there are usually around 15 lurking in and around the latrine. So I did what any american would do. I bombed the place. I bought the most expensive western roach bait Lome had to offer. Then I bought the most expensive roach spray imported to Togo. The spray even has a special cloaking device that makes it smell like febreeze. Now when you deplete the ozone, and murder your innocent brain cells, you can smell good doin' it.
Well after spraying and baiting, the problem was solved.
Until this morning.
I am not kidding when I tell you I killed over 100 cockroaches. I have pictures to prove it. I will post them.
For now I must go. Surprising the internet works here in kante.
pictures to follow. A little vomit just came up.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Ode to Voltic Spoons and Couscous in Water Sauce.
After ditching the scarlet T (trainee) for the exclusive V (vende…volunteer), the new stage hit the sandy roads of Lomé with the consumerist zeal rarely found since Tickle-me Elmo debuted. Before we could shop, we had to take an oath of allegiance to the United States Constitution. The swear-in ceremony felt similar to a graduation, or perhaps Bar Mitzvah, or any other right of passage. I even gave a speech in Lamba. The next day local radio stations broadcast segments from the ceremony, including my speech. WRGW anyone? Apologies to all Lamba speaking communities for butchering your language.
So after the swear- in ceremony we had four days in Lomé to buy everything we needed for our new homes. Plates, bowls, buckets, soap, forks, spoons, knives. This is a list of essential items to be purchased before moving into your new home. Also, this is a list of items that I left/never made it onto my car/never made it out of the store where I purchased everything. Long story short, I had to eat couscous in water sauce with a voltic water bottle cut into a shovel/spoon contraption. Eating with my hands was eliminated because there was no soap to wash with. I am a health volunteer.
Ishmael, the volunteer in Kante before me, introduced me to one of his friends Akanto from Kante. Akanto came down to Lome to say goodbye to Ishmael. After the swear in ceremony Akanto and his brother Roland invited me to eat fufu at their home in Lome. Having a friend in Kante will definitely make my transition easier!
Happy New Year
I am in Kara, the regional capital, and will return to Kanté on Sunday. Work opportunities should start picking up now that the holiday season is ending. On December 23rd I participated in my first Club Espoir, a monthly club for AIDS orphans and other children affected by HIV/AIDS. The club is held at Association Espoir Pour Demain Kara (AED), an organization I will be working with throughout my service. The children spent the morning making cards, decorating the AED building, and building the Togolese equivalent to gingerbread houses. Pictures to follow.
Did they have to put an overcoat on Saddam?
That wool fabric looks like it walked right out of Brooks Brothers.
While eating at la douceur, quite possibly the nicest restaurant in Kara, TV5 was broadcasting some fine French footage of sharks eating small animals (several varieties of seagull, and more urgently, a deer/ram type creature). Conversation ceased in the restaurant, attention moved from food to shark fury in seconds. The point is the restaurant was so nice it had TV5…I digress. The footage ended and the evening news began. French newscasters have really nice ties. Top story: Saddam hung. Really? Iraqi justice works in remarkably fast ways. My French is not yet refined enough to fully appreciate TV5 evening news, but luckily for me, camera phone video of an execution by gallows translates effortlessly from French, to Arabic, to Kabyé, to English.
This brings me back to Saddam’s coat. Maybe if he had sported a US issued prisoner uniform fully equipped with shackles and crazy beard attachment, this whole thing would have been more digestible. Instead, we get a frail looking old man wearing your grandfather’s hand pressed overcoat. And so the tyrant is dead. My only hope is that there will be less death now that he is gone. Maybe we can start focusing some needed attention on the ignored abuses committed across the African continent.
Harmattan makes northern volunteers cooler (literally)
The harmattan winds arrived about a month ago and there is a layer of dust and sand on everything. I wake up with a sore throat most mornings. I do not know if this is because of the dust or because of the drastic temperature fluctuations between the day and the night. The powers in the weather world are predicting the hottest year on record. I guess Al Gore was right all along. I cannot wait for the dust to settle.
So after the swear- in ceremony we had four days in Lomé to buy everything we needed for our new homes. Plates, bowls, buckets, soap, forks, spoons, knives. This is a list of essential items to be purchased before moving into your new home. Also, this is a list of items that I left/never made it onto my car/never made it out of the store where I purchased everything. Long story short, I had to eat couscous in water sauce with a voltic water bottle cut into a shovel/spoon contraption. Eating with my hands was eliminated because there was no soap to wash with. I am a health volunteer.
Ishmael, the volunteer in Kante before me, introduced me to one of his friends Akanto from Kante. Akanto came down to Lome to say goodbye to Ishmael. After the swear in ceremony Akanto and his brother Roland invited me to eat fufu at their home in Lome. Having a friend in Kante will definitely make my transition easier!
Happy New Year
I am in Kara, the regional capital, and will return to Kanté on Sunday. Work opportunities should start picking up now that the holiday season is ending. On December 23rd I participated in my first Club Espoir, a monthly club for AIDS orphans and other children affected by HIV/AIDS. The club is held at Association Espoir Pour Demain Kara (AED), an organization I will be working with throughout my service. The children spent the morning making cards, decorating the AED building, and building the Togolese equivalent to gingerbread houses. Pictures to follow.
Did they have to put an overcoat on Saddam?
That wool fabric looks like it walked right out of Brooks Brothers.
While eating at la douceur, quite possibly the nicest restaurant in Kara, TV5 was broadcasting some fine French footage of sharks eating small animals (several varieties of seagull, and more urgently, a deer/ram type creature). Conversation ceased in the restaurant, attention moved from food to shark fury in seconds. The point is the restaurant was so nice it had TV5…I digress. The footage ended and the evening news began. French newscasters have really nice ties. Top story: Saddam hung. Really? Iraqi justice works in remarkably fast ways. My French is not yet refined enough to fully appreciate TV5 evening news, but luckily for me, camera phone video of an execution by gallows translates effortlessly from French, to Arabic, to Kabyé, to English.
This brings me back to Saddam’s coat. Maybe if he had sported a US issued prisoner uniform fully equipped with shackles and crazy beard attachment, this whole thing would have been more digestible. Instead, we get a frail looking old man wearing your grandfather’s hand pressed overcoat. And so the tyrant is dead. My only hope is that there will be less death now that he is gone. Maybe we can start focusing some needed attention on the ignored abuses committed across the African continent.
Harmattan makes northern volunteers cooler (literally)
The harmattan winds arrived about a month ago and there is a layer of dust and sand on everything. I wake up with a sore throat most mornings. I do not know if this is because of the dust or because of the drastic temperature fluctuations between the day and the night. The powers in the weather world are predicting the hottest year on record. I guess Al Gore was right all along. I cannot wait for the dust to settle.
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