Last One - July 2014 - Things I'm Going to Miss

1: Moto rides.

I really grew to appreciate the fact that there were no car taxis in my village, so that the only way out was to call a motorcycle taxi driver to come and pick me up. I will not, however, miss that sexy helmet.

2: A beautiful view ten minutes from my house.

3: The sound of rain on my tin roof.

4: Listening to, sitting and working with people.

I never became conversationally fluent in Kabiyé, but I learned to value just being in the presence of other people. I loved sitting with the women while they all talked and worked together.

5: Laughs, games, and dancing with girls club.

I did several different projects during my service, but girls club was by far my favorite. I looked forward to club every week, and I built some deep relationships with a few of them.

6: Candles at night.

I’m actually kind of glad I didn’t have electricity.

7: Time to read so many books.

My favorites were The Shadow of the Wind (thanks, Veronica, for the recommendation!) and Harry Potter.

8: Mango season.

I’d wake up and go out to the mango tree for breakfast.

9: Physicality of my everyday life.

I washed my clothes by hand, went to the well to get water, and walked 2-4 miles per day.

10: Family plan.

For most of my service, volunteers could call each other for free.  I have to credit the family plan with keeping me sane and, a biggie, offering a constant opportunity to speak English.

11: Juices.

Hibiscus, orange, lemon, and baobab juice were available all the time. So good.

12: Bright colors.

Everything is so vibrant: clothing, nature, food, sunsets.

13: Koi!

One of my favorite Kabiyé expressions –means “what?!” or “I am in a state of shock and disbelief.” Also “king king king!”, which means “a lot” or “really”. And “tdoh”, which means “okay”.

14: Seeing Papa work in his workshop.

My host dad is a carpenter. He makes chairs and tables and whatever other requests people have.

15: Hanging out with Maman in her tchouk stand.

My host mom makes beer out of sorghum for a living, and every Saturday she sells it in the market. I spent a lot of Saturday afternoons sitting in her stand, talking and hanging out with people as they came to buy beer.

16: Kara pool.

Fortunately, almost every day in Togo is warm enough for a swim.

17: The Shanks.

Jesse, Tiffany, and their two sons, Joshua and Owen, were an oasis of fellowship and good food during my service. Their friendship and support was invaluable to me.

18: Lomé beach.

Even though it’s the #1 place where people get robbed in Togo and there are piles of human waste you have to dodge as you take your afternoon stroll, the ocean view really pretty :)

19: All the weird food that came out of my kitchen that I somehow pathetically found to be delicious.

Cheese made out of milk powder, couscous doused in barbeque sauce, and rice with a mound of curry powder. Sriracha straight out of the bottle is also more filling and delicious than you might expect.

19.5: All the food that came out of my host mom’s kitchen that I rightfully came to deeply appreciate.

Togolese food is good. Corn paste and smashed yams don’t sound so appetizing, but let me tell you, they definitely can be. Gboma and sesame sauces are going to be pretty sorely missed by my stomach. Hot peppers and slimy sauces took some getting used to, but, I can honestly say now that I’m going to be missing it.

20: Normalcy of discussing bodily functions/issues with other volunteers.

The consistency of your bowl movements, color of your urine, and the strange rash on your ass became dinner table topics.

21: My host brother, Gabin, and sister, Léa.

I love them like we have the same parents – waaaaah.

22: Mail.

I loved going to the post office on Wednesdays and picking up letters from friends and family. I loved opening them. I loved reading them. I loved replying to them. Basically, I loved everything about it.

23: Pace and simplicity of life.

Which, as you may guess, is quite a bit slower and simpler. You cook food when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and work until your work is finished. Pretty much, schedules don’t exist. You just go with the flow – everything feels so natural.

24: Sense of community.

When there is a party, it’s for everybody. Grandmas and 14 year-olds are dancing in the same circle and sons and fathers are sitting and drinking beers together. Out of salt? Ask your neighbor. Don’t feel like watching your kids? Tell them to go next door. Need to pick your nose? No one’s going to judge you. Broke your leg and need people to take you places and cook for you? You’ve got nothing to worry about.

25: How easy it is to get hit on… or even proposed to.

Seriously, I was a hot commodity in Togo. I’m going to mark it up to my good looks, whit, and charm.

26: How acceptable it is to look grungy every day… and still get hit on and proposed to.

Bras were for dressing up days, which were not often. I think they think that maybe looking like you haven’t showered in days or washed your clothes in couple months is just how Americans prefer to look – I run with it. 

27: Having as much time to get ready in the morning as I want.

I took a good two hours every morning to eat breakfast, listen to the radio, sip on coffee, and read my Bible.

28: Buying all my food in the market.

Made me feel really healthy and organic and hipster. But it all tasted really good too.

29: The opportunity to learn so many different and unique things.

How to make soja, how to raise bees, how to graft a mango tree, how to make soap, how to do the dance ‘Corde a Sauter’, how to speak French and Kabiyé, and how to hang a mosquito net. These are all things that will most likely be worthless for the rest of my life unless I am a contestant on Jeopardy someday, but it has nonetheless been really interesting and valuable to me.

30: Funerals.

In Togo, funerals are a celebration. The community prepares a meal and everyone sings and dances to celebrate the life of the person who passed away. I thought it was a really meaningful way to look at death and life.

31: Diversity.

Religious, ethnic, and geographic diversity, specifically. I think, but I’m not entirely sure, that there are over 40 different languages spoken in Togo. Can you imagine? I can, but that’s only because I’ve been there. Up north, Togo is desert-ish and in the south you feel like you’re breathing water and that the Amazon is probably only a dozen miles away. Fetishism is really big, there are a lot of Muslims, and then, of course, numerous branches of Christianity in Togo. People are really accepting of different beliefs.

32: Relationships.

I know I’ve already mentioned a few, but I decided I’d just get the rest out there. I’m going to miss Irene and Rose sitting and laughing and talking on my porch, tea time with Eli and Simone, learning Kabiyé with Claudine, playing cards with Gabin and Léa, dancing with girls’ club, sitting with Edite and Simplice under the mango trees on Saturday afternoons, cooking with Maman, playing board games with the Shanks, praying with Jean, talking about life and all its twists and turns with Marie, and attempting to speak Spanish with Daniel. And, finally, my relationships with other PCV’s have been invaluable – esp. Matt, Sebastian, Matt and Julie – I looooove you!

33: Realizing how loud nature is.

At night I could hear bats, crickets, frogs/toads, birds, wind, etc. It kind of felt like I was sleeping outside. Except for most of the year I was covered in a blanket of sweat. Which, actually, still may have been the case had I ever decided to sleep outside.

34: Having such a high appreciation for the simple pleasures in life.

Never have I ever been so in awe and deeply appreciative of paved roads, chocolate bars, charged electronics, running water, hot showers, Mexican food, how easy it is to speak English, good cell phone reception, and shade/wind/fans/the general sensation of feeling chilly, as I have been in Togo.

35: Having a need and having it so satisfactorily satisfied.

You’ll be walking on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere with sweat dribbling down your back, and at the key moment a motorcycle will stop and pick you up and take you to your destination. You’ll be walking through the market having looked for shea butter for an hour, just about to give up, and a woman will walk by you with more shea butter than you could possible want piled on top of her head.

36: Perceptiveness/magical eyes Togolese have.

They can recognize people from a good half mile away. My host mom remembers where I set my cell phone last night. Lea notices that I missed a spot on the dish I’m washing. Although it can be annoying sometimes, it’s usually very helpful and really different from Americans. I think we are constantly over stimulated and tend to overlook small details.

37: The Togolese Card Game (le jeu togolais)

I’m really good at it. I mean it’s mostly luck, but what little logic is required, I execute quite strategically.

38: Complete acceptance of people who can’t sing.

Although it can be a little hard on the ears sometimes, it’s a beautiful thing. It doesn’t matter if we’ve got 5 different keys going on at the same time, everyone joins in and contributes their own musical ideas to what’s going on.

39: How cheap things are.

80 cent flip flops, 20 cent dinner, $14 monthly rent, $1 for a 25km taxi ride. The dollar menu is going to be feeling expensive.