Monday, November 24, 2008

Togo or not Togo



Yesterday, I went to Togo for the first time. It literally is over the river and through the woods (or rather, palm trees). It’s actually pretty cool – we went down this little path I have always seen but didn’t know where it led, and suddenly there was a tiny river, maybe 20 feet wide, and a little boat ferrying people back and forth. I maintain that it couldn’t be that deep and you could probably walk across, but I did not take up my friend’s challenge to try it.

We went to Agba Na Ke, which is where the king lives. Though he’s in Togo, he is the monarch for the people of Grand Popo. GP is a weird little inlet on the map into Togolese territory, and it was only at independence that it was really considered part of Benin. So, as is the story with so many former colonies, the Xwla and Xweda people were divided between two countries, though the language, culture, and religion are the same and they are separated by 20 feet of water. There are some who now dispute the monarch’s authority in Benin, but most people acknowledge that Agba Na Ke is an important site in the history of the people of this area.

In any case, we did not go to see the king. Instead, we went to what I thought was a funeral, but might just have been a party. It was very cool – It can be hard for me to access “traditional” Beninese culture in Grand Popo because there are so many tourists and so people either assume they know what foreigners want to see or they just ignore my presence. Plus my house is situated in a pretty barren stretch of land – mostly hotels and overpriced restaurants directly around me. Anyway, it was cool to be able to experience a little bit of the fete culture of Togo. For example, when we arrived, they poured a little bit of alcohol on our feet to welcome us from our voyage. Hosts always offer water, so we took a sip of that. Then it was time for a shot of gin (at least it wasn’t sodabe). And finally, a plate of food (nevermind that it was only an hour or so after lunch).

Then, someone brought out a small statuette and I got excited – maybe I was going to see a real live voodoo ceremony! He then brought out baby powder and sprinkled it in what looked like a very ceremonial and occult fashion. Then, he very seriously placed the statue in a bucket and a towel over the blanket. The ceremony began…and ended with him miraculously pulling candy out of the statue. What I had taken to be a ceremony imbued with meaning was in fact a magic show. He proceeded to do tricks making money appear and disappear. He did a really gross trick in which I had to spit on my hand and then he made the spit move to the other side of my hand. I just hope that it was my spit that we were working with the whole time (I think saliva is gross…this was not my favorite trick). It was almost comical because he took himself incredibly seriously – one would think that David Blaine himself was there. In the end, he finished up and left and we all danced (including me – shocking, no?). Americans automatically look dumb dancing to traditional music. No two ways about it. But it’s a great source of entertainment to others so I swallowed my pride and flapped my arms with the rest of the women.

And that is the story of my afternoon in Togo. Borders are still strange to me because as Americans, we think of borders as things that are really far away and/or sites of heavy-handed state control and/or places of illegal activity. But borders can really be little strips of river that people don’t really pay attention to (except for the time change between here and Togo, which seems ridiculous) and crossing can be as normal as going to the weekend market on one side of the river or the other. Ok, enough philosophical musing. I’ve gotta go do real work (meaning reheating my dinner from last night and hoping I don’t give myself food poisoning…food storage is a bit tricky without a fridge in 90+ degree heat).

Life in the GPo

There have recently been requests from my loyal readership to offer a bit more insight into my daily life here in the GPo. At the risk of boring you all to tears, here goes.

Right now, I’m trying to start an English club and a book club, both projects I’m pretty excited about. Today, I met with the English teachers of the local high school to get them on board with the English club, which was my first real experience with a Beninese style meeting (think lots of protocol and hierarchy). Overall, it was a successful meeting, though we did spend about half an hour talking about ways that previous English clubs have failed. I think that was to help us avoid pitfalls but it did seem a bit fatalistic at times. All in all, I think the English club is going to be fun – I have visions of playing Hangman and Scrabble and Simon Says. I’m also going to try my damndest (sp?) to get my hands on some “Schoolhouse Rock” so if anyone has it and can burn me a copy of some choice episodes, let me know.

Right now I’m working my way through a Ziploc of brownies that the PC Country Director made. She’s visiting all the volunteers and she always brings baked goods on her visits (awesome!). On account of the ants, I have to eat the whole thing tonight (this is not difficult).

Hmmm…took a break to read the SELF magazine the CD left with me. Am realizing now how terrible Peace Corps is for the health. Lets see…fresh vegetables limited to tomatoes, onions, occasionally carrots and cabbage. Oh, and okra and eggplant. Yum. Abundantly available are yams, cassava, white rice, and other calorie-laden starches. One of the main dishes here is pate, or cornmeal paste. Oh, and everything is cooked in oil. Deepfrying is a favorite cooking technique. At least I’m eating local. I’m resolving here and now to try and eat salad at least once a week and to attempt Pilates or some other time of exercise a few times a week. Though I bike everywhere, Grand Popo is completely flat and I’m pretty sure I’m not getting much of a workout. As I am not known for my willpower, we shall see how long this lasts.

Finally, my official project here is to work on stuff with tourism with the Mayor’s office. I wish I could be more specific, but alas, I’m not sure the Mayor’s office has a more specific idea in mind. For the moment, I’ve been talking to just about everyone and trying to get a sense of what is happening in Grand Popo already and what people would like to see happen. So, a typical day usually involves going to the Mairie for an hour or two, then heading off to pick up a survey from one of the hotels (I’m surveying them on their needs and perceptions of the role of the Mayor’s office in tourism). In the afternoon I will meet with a guide maybe or go to greet some official I haven’t met yet. It’s a slow moving life. Right now, I’m working on figuring out what it will mean to me to be “successful” so I can start figuring out if I am working towards success.

I don’t know if that clarified anything for anyone but I’m going to try and post less about bugs and more about my life in the future. Bugs are easy because I usually have a very strong and visceral reaction that doesn’t require much processing. But for you, dear readers, I shall attempt to dig deep and give you something interesting to read.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Jesus Ants

If I’ve spoken to you in the last two months, I have complained about the ants. Dear Lord, I have never hated something so small, so much. They get into never before been opened jars of peanut butter. They infiltrated the Tupperware with my sugar in it. They swarmed my freshly baked cornbread. I swear to God, I found an ant inside the screen of my cell phone. They are everywhere. They can even walk on water.

For a while, I thought I was outsmarting them – I would open a can of sweetened condensed milk, and (not having a refrigerator) I would put the can in a bowl of water. This was after putting a piece of cardboard in the hole and putting the can in a Ziploc bag failed to repel the ants. For a while, the system worked. Then one day I awoke to a can swarming with ants. I concluded that either they had divine help, or they were sacrificing some ants and using them as an insect bridge from the edge of the bowl to the can. The problem is that I am utterly powerless in the face of both scenarios. If God is on their side, I should just let them have the damn milk. And if they are so organized and masochistic so as to literally walk on the backs of their fallen comrades, well then, I don’t stand a chance.

At first I was angry – I threw things, screamed, and cursed at the ants. Then I was resigned – I tossed the sugar, stopped buying condensed milk. Next, I was defiant – they were not going to take my fancy (and expensive) granola bought in Cotonou away from me, even if it meant that I had to eat ants. Now, I am trying a tactic of all out guerilla warfare. I have an array of insecticides, all most likely illegal in the US and causing unknown harm to myself and potentially my future children. One is called “RAD” which stands for “Read a Dream” which not only is nonsensical but also has nothing to do with insects. It promises, “One touch kills vermin in the whole room!” It works well in the moment but doesn’t have the long lasting preventive power I’m looking for. So Sister Francisca (not really a nun, but it would be funny if she were) gets me some white powdered stuff called “Commando” which has the Ghana Standards Board seal of approval. It is multipurpose: you can use it on your garden, in your house, in your latrine, and to delouse your dog or fowl. Some volunteers from Burkina suggested filling cans with kerosene and setting them under the table legs. This might work, though I’m afraid that frequent power outages (and subsequent match/candle usage) might not mix well with open containers of kerosene.

So we’ll see whether these new plans work out. If not, I might need professional help by the time I’m done with my two years (sometimes I sing to them: “I hate you little anties/ yes I do/ you’re the worst creatures in the world.” You can make up the tune as you go along.) In any case, you don’t need to worry about me getting enough protein.