A Quick Update on Life and Work...

After yesterday’s topic-based post, I felt it might be worthwhile to update anyone who still checks my page on the happenings of my day-to-day life. In terms of work projects, I’ve been teaching/leading two middle school clubs—one environmental science club in my village, and another girls gardening club in a nearby village. The environmental science club is much more lecture and excursion based, whereas the garden club mixes little lessons with trips to the garden where I give little pieces of advice. Sometimes I fear the lessons are sort of over the heads of my school kids, but I feel that they really appreciate being taught complex topics that challenge them. I try, for example, to present my environmental science club with graphs and figures every week, telling them that when they study science in college they’ll have a head start. Keep in mind, the idea that a child will go to high school (much less college) is by no means certain; in fact, it’s pretty rare for a child from my town to make the 13 km journey to the local high school. Thus, by me telling them they need these science skills for high school and college, as if it was a certainty that they’ll be attending both, I hope I’m raising their own expectations for themselves. In addition to clubs in my own region, I’ll be helping lead sessions at a summer camp for girls interested in science from across Togo. The general idea is that they will be able to go back to their own villages and help establish their own science clubs, without, necessarily, the help of foreigners. As many of you remember, I’m also active with local fish farmers, both by counseling groups I come across in other communities, as well as with the duck project with my own local fish farming group. We’ve had some sad news with the ducks as of late, with three dying of unexpected reasons. After building a ‘duckling nursery’, with one male and three females someone in my group made the mistake of placing a male who had escaped his own cage in with the females and other male. A showdown then ensued and one of the males killed the other in a dispute over the ladies. Then the next week (just a few days ago) the group member in charge of giving food and water must have forgotten to replace the dirty water with clean water, and the alpha male and smallest female died of—presumably—dehydration (ducks need an incredible amount of water for drinking and bathing.) All three were prepared and eaten, though, so I guess I’ll just postpone my planned Easter feast and call myself lucky that I still have six healthy members of the flock. I have also been making several trips to the small villages in my canton just, frankly, as a sign of respect to those who live there and who invite me to come and eat a meal with them. My work always comes up, though, so I get several opportunities to advise locals on food security, deforestation, and other general development issues. In two weeks or so, I’ve planned a walk to two mountain villages in my canton where a few volunteers and I will be discussing the gender equity program ‘men as partners’, which basically seeks to switch some of the burden of gender development from the women of the community to the men. Healthy relationships, fidelity, men’s health (sexual and otherwise), and sharing of household duties are just some of the topics that will be raised.

As always, I’m conjuring up ideas for new projects: my counterpart and I will soon be starting a model fish and rice farm (another form of integrated agriculture), where a sunken plot of land will feature two rice paddies that will flank a deeper canal where we will be able to raise Tilapia. If one manages the water correctly (i.e.-let the rice mature in only an inch or two of water, then flood it with about a foot of water when mature, then drain it again to harvest, while constantly leaving water in the canal), the fish will be able to both provide fertilizer and control some of the pests. Also, a neighboring volunteer and I have plans to start an environmental advocacy and monitoring program with well-known fetish priests in towns with Peace Corps volunteers across the region. The idea to use local religion as a basis for protecting “sacred” plants and animals came to me while on a casual visit to the fetish priest in my village (Americans know their religion by the name voodoo, and may call the priests themselves witch doctors, though in Togo and especially neighboring Benin it is a serious, and well respected religion, that often merges into Christianity and Islam, and is in no way threatening.) Basically, the way I see it is that when the native, biologically significant resources of a region are all simultaneously on the verge of collapse, any help is good help. If the fetish priest in a village can no longer find rare forest herbs because of deforestation, then him admonishing locals to not clear cut their land (for example) just may be the last, best hope for change. I hope all is well back home! Best wishes to everyone! J

My environmental science club...this picture was taken when I was discussing coffee (both the needs of the coffee tree as well as the actual beverage itself.) I had the kids try coffee from three different regions of the world--one of them being their own home grown Togolese coffee.

Alcohol(ism) in Togo

The passion that Ahossou shows for his sodabi (the local moonshine) is matched only by the animosity he shows for other—less refined—spirits. On top of telling me to never drink sodabi from anywhere outside the very tight confines of our region (and God forbid I should ever sample that swamp water they sell in Benin), my work partner and close friend always finds time to remind me to never share sodabi with anyone ‘on the street’ in our village. This admittedly sounds a bit less threatening when one realizes that there isn’t really a street in my town so much as a quaint little square with a rather nice church and a rather decrepit palais royale—though the old chief’s house does take a bit of charm from the traditional mud and bamboo construction and the two widowers the size and shape of lawn gnomes (canes and fuzzy bellies to boot) who reside there. They guard over a petite marché with a few ladies selling a few vegetables and three or four boutiques, which keep in mind have maybe ten things behind the counter. One (or usually more) of those ten things, always happens to be a myriad of sodabi bottles—multiple roots, herbs, and chili peppers infused therein as medicament for all your aches and pains. The liquor itself is the distilled product of palm wine, which in itself is the sweet, milky looking liquid that is naturally fermented inside of the palm trees that litter the landscape of these parts. Though it smells like vomit, it is actually rather tasty, and not at all strong tasting. Sodabi, on the other hand, packs a hell of a punch. The appetite for sodabi in southern Togo, like that of tchouk and tchakpa (local, unfiltered millet and sorghum beer) in central and northern Togo is simply insatiable. Sodabi stands can be found in almost every other familial compound in my village, and locals will stop to take it in the morning before work—just as we do with coffeehouses—straight through lunch and into the night. Just the other day I was told by a very respectable man that he only drinks the stuff in the morning before he goes to the farm and before dinner, as if that was downright puritanical. Others have more difficulty abstaining from the beverage: glossy eyed and with debatable motor skills a chunk of the population merely stays drunk. Their often foolish banter—normally somewhat innocent, though at times borderline abusive—seems to only grow louder when I enter the scene. Maybe it’s my friendly disposition, I don’t know, but drunks seem to be drawn into conversation with me every day. I usually don’t mind, so long as they only are looking to say hello or quiz me on my local language skills. Yet at times the knowledge that I’ll be confronted by someone who sees me as the source of their next shot is enough to make me steer clear of their usual haunts—especially at night or after a festival/funeral. The sad truth, that I’ve wanted to say for quite some time, is that alcoholism is secretly stifling the hopes of small communities across this country by stealing money out of men’s pockets: money that could be used on much more productive purchases (food comes to mind.) Don’t get me wrong, the money is at some level fed back into the local economy—people here are staunch supporters of their local stills—but that reasoning only goes so far. These concerns of mine, though, are not easily raised in village. If on one side of the advocacy spectrum (we’ll call it 10) are the ladies of prohibition who took axes to barrels of beer and bottles of whisky, and the other side (we’ll call it 1) is simply saying nothing at all, I’d probably—pitifully—be about a three. I’ll bring up the topic to close work partners and I’ve been a part of discussions on the issue at more formal conferences, but trying to ‘develop’ a ‘developing’ country means picking your battles (lest you lose your mind.) This, unfortunately, is one battle that will need a lot more than a few volunteers to be won.

J

Back in Togo…

After a wondrous three week vacation back home, and a three day decompression period on the beach in Ghana I found myself surpisingly content as I moseyed back into village. I had tentatively planned on a slow transition back-- a couple days in Lome, a couple days in my regional capital—so as to ease slowly back into small town life. It turns out, though, that the lure of my own bed was too strong for me to resist for long, and I soon squeezed myself into a cramped bush taxi and headed to—what is for now—home.

It should be noted that returning to any volunteer house in Togo after an even brief period away is an interesting event…to put it frankly, you never know what kind of new critters have decided to reside/die in your abode.

When I walked into my place the first thing that caught my eye was the tattered remains of seed packets (radishes, tomatoes, beans, moringa, and more) laying all over my small house. On further inspection I found a very interesting collection of half eaten things all over my house…here are just a few examples:

-tube of hydrocortisone cream
-tube of athlete’s foot cream (its precautionary people…)
-pepto bismol tablets
-half the label off a hot sauce bottle
-the plastic cap of a bottle of body powder

The list goes on, but I’ll leave it at that. I soon found the culprit, lying bloated on the ground, surely dying from the cocktail of ointments and plastic it ingested.

After cleaning the scene up it was time for a shower…where I just knew there was going to be something waiting for me. I slowly entered my bathroom, crossing my fingers hoping that there wouldn’t be a mamba waiting there to pounce. The coast appeared to be clear, and I soon relaxed…that’s when I saw it: a dead bat at the bottom of my shower bucket. At least I thought it was dead—the high pitched (but very much audible) screech that filled my bathroom proved otherwise.

I’m still not quite sure why it was in there, or why it couldn’t fly out, but I didn’t let it hang around long enough to ask…soon it was thrown out along with the mouse, and I eased back into the slow, quiet, and hopefully pest free life that I’ve grown so fond of.

It’s good to be back.

J

HAPPY Holidays...

I had heard that Togo was—reportedly—mécontent du vie (unhappy about life) from other volunteers in the past. Though at that time I didn't know that it was the prime example of a poor, unhappy little country; that is, at least, if I am interpreting this figure from The Economist correctly:

http://www.economist.com/blogs/dailychart/2010/11/daily_chart_1

Here's to celebrating a very happy holiday season at home...

Leave it to a Beaver to Build a Duck Raft...

Integrated aquaculture/agriculture is one tool among many to combat the rampant problem of food security in the developing world. The idea is simple: Instead of having one piece of land devoted to one thing (i.e.-a rice paddy, a fish pond, a livestock enclosure), you combine various types of food production in a way that benefits the harvest, while also conserving land.

There are many examples, from the simple to the complex, but they almost always involve the utilization of livestock for manure. In my village—where there was already a stocked fish pond when I arrived­—I have been working with the groupement piscicultutre to try, among other things, to improve the water quality of the pond. One of the best ways to accomplish this is by combining the fish farming with appropriate animal husbandry, usually by creating an enclosure for the animals either in, or directly next to the pond. The idea is that the animals will create both manure as well as lots of food scraps that the fish will then eat, thus creating a much needed nitrogen source that will speed up the rate of growth. This technique is most popular in SE Asia, where often times large fish farming centers feature pig, duck, goose, chicken and other husbandry.

I quickly became a fan of the scheme, not only because of the already mentioned benefits of integrated aquaculture, but also because it was something that is rarely, if ever, tried in Togo. Having worked with farmers here for over a year now I can say that one of the hardest obstacles in the way of food security is the overarching sameness of food production here. The majority of the Togolese population farms or owns livestock or both, and yet there are only a few individuals I know that have actively searched for creative new farming methods to implement. With that in mind, I wanted to introduce a way of creating and harvesting food that was completely unique—not necessarily so that it could be replicated by everyone, but so that locals could see that its always worth trying something new!

After researching I decided that I would introduce ducks into the fish pond, mostly because they aren’t incredibly expensive, and they are quite efficient producers of waste. Yet, there is only a couple feet of flat land next to the pond, so a typical little land structure for them to sleep and nest in wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead, I decided I would venture way outside the box and design a covered raft that would be set afloat in the pond. I realize that sounds like a pretty straight forward project, but I really can’t stress enough how new the idea of a raft was for my town. Indeed, until the raft was actually put in, I don’t think anyone actually knew what I was concocting; I told them it was a raft, but apparently the French word for raft isn’t exactly universally understood.

Now, though, since having stocked the raft with ducks a few weeks ago, I’ve been receiving daily visitors curious and usually surprised about the élévage sur l’eau. I’m not done yet, though: next up is a bamboo pier for ducklings (easier access) and I’d like to eventually try my hand at pig rearing.

Anyway, here are a few pictures for you to get an idea, and if you’re more curious about specifics then leave a question and I’ll be sure to get back to you!

Take care,
J

Chez Moi...et la Jardin.

My compound...my house is straight ahead in the corner (as you can see it isn't a mud hut!)

The kitchen/foyer...my drinking water is under my big filter on the left hand side...my stove is at the far right next to the orange gas tank.

I probably should have made my bed for this pic, but oh well...

This is still in the bedroom, don't be deceived, there are only two little rooms.




Et La Jardin...

This was taken after I first cut back all the brush at the garden; since it was dry season the weeds didn't grow back right away...

but as soon as the rains came the weeds shot back up and the winds of the first big storm blew over that tree from the previous picture. In the foreground, by the way, is the first compost pile I made.



This is a part of the actual garden section of my land. Its hard to see but there was a ton of water inbetween the beds...the day before this pic was taken the entire garden was flooded. In Africa, when it comes to waiting for the rains, be careful what you wish for.

Eventually, though, the rains let up enough for me to get a decent sunflower seed harvest!

Just so everyone can see a picture with me in it, here is one of me helping out the rice farmers.

Sheep Testicles Taste like Licorice...

In regards to the international culinary scene, Americans generally keep to a short list of players, with adventurous eating opportunities only presenting themselves so often. Moreover, the standard choices for ‘ethnic’ fare—Italian, Chinese, Mexican, and the like—are generally so dialed down and ‘Americanized’ that finding truly authentic dishes can become a challenge in even the most cosmopolitan of settings.

Yet there are those who avidly search, and quickly discover, the hidden morsels of the gastronomic world—the meals that come only after ordering off of a menu you barely understand from someone who you may understand even less. Fortunately for Americans, though, you don’t have to travel too far to find such experiences. There are eye opening dining options in even the smallest of towns in our country, so long as you’re willing to look.

I realized this some time ago, and had the fortune of being raised outside of a city where eating, and to a lesser extent eating unique fare, is quite encouraged. Still, though, for the many times I went looking for ethnic food, I can honestly say I never so much as came across a West African option. To even the most daring and/or knowledgeable of eaters, the food of this region is very much an unknown.

I suppose it has something to do with marketing. Most in the developed world see Africa as a place of hardship, where even if you’re not starving, you’re certainly not eating that much.

In reality the proper preparation of a good meal is just as important here as in America, and I have honestly found that once you get past an initial awkwardness, you find meals that you absolutely crave.

Of course, I’m not talking about a five course bourgeois feast either. Togolese fare (and by extension the food of this larger area) is quite simple, and largely based on the agricultural calendar.

The vast majority of the time a meal includes a carbohydrate/cereal/grain base with a sauce. I feel like 9 times out of 10 the base is pate, which is a corn meal porridge that is left to solidify; the closest thing to an American would be grits or Italian polenta. It is usually served with a green leaf sauce made with spinach or chard like leaves, red palm oil, and often with okra.

Rice is also common, especially in areas where it is able to be grown, such as where I live. It is often eaten with similar leaf sauces, but is most popular with a spicy tomato or peanut sauce.

Fufu is probably the most popular dish and is most often ate on Sundays or when money is available. It is basically mashed yams, which are pounded with long poles in a deep wooden pestle until it is sort of coagulated. To a newcomer it’s really nothing like mashed potatoes in America but to me it has taken on the same comfort food role, and is thus sorely missed when yams are out of season as they are now. If meat is available locals make a delicious gravy to go along with it that is spiced in my region with fresh peppercorn (not dried). If there is no meat then peanut, tomato, or eggplant sauce is substituted.

These are all typical family meals, but Togo also has a very consistent and somewhat odd availability of Western dishes. In most larger towns there are cafeterias along the roads that you can buy the same few things: spaghetti, couscous, and egg omelet sandwiches. Without fail, there are always egg sandwiches smothered in mayonnaise and fried with more oil than anyone should possibly need to fry a couple eggs. Along the street there is also a consistent supply of beans and rice, grilled corn, peanuts, fried tofu, rice porridge and many types or fruits and veggies.

I could go on more but will leave it there…

À la prochain!

J

ps- those sheep testicles, if you could believe it, were rather delicious…