24 December 2005
Oy vey, near the end of a long email yesterday, and the power went out. Now I'm in a hurry to finish some shopping and find a taxi north, so we'll see how much I can squeeze in this message. By the way, sister or Aleda, could you please do me a favor and post these emails I send out to the site for me? I never seem to have the time to do it myself; each step I have to take to get into the site and to where I can post a message just takes forever, and then I never know if it's going to work... Thank you!
I'm in Atakpame, my regional capital, to run errands and to kibbitz a little with my compatriots before they headed north to fete christmas together. I decided to stay in village for the holidays, since I've only been there since the 11th, and some of my village counterparts there encouraged me to celebrate with my "new family". I've been promised that both Noel and the New Year are quite the parties, with slayings of cows and goats and all the accompanying revelry. The wandering fuulani tribes have been in town a lot with their cows to sell for the occasion, and they are beautiful people to behold, especially the women, lithe, with coins and colorful beads hanging off their many long braids, and wrapped around their necks. And they seem so quiet and mysterious to me. I just stare at them, I can't help it, and they just stare at me too. God knows what they think of me. Heading out of village the other morning, down that long dusty bumpy road, we were blocked temporarily by their herd of cattle -- who by the way are oddly striking in and of themselves, very tall, white, skinny, with long white horns and very black eyes for stark contrast. The women were leading them off the path, and you could tell they had all their belongings neatly bundled and piled on their heads. Everyone here carries everything on their heads, hands-free (!) -- large basins of water, giant bundles of firewood, 10-foot long heavy planks, all their market wares --, so that wasn't at all strange to see. But I have this whole romantic vision of their nomadic existence, coupled with their enthralling beauty, and had this sudden urge to jump out of the car and follow them into the bush, the african version of running off with the circus.
But I didn't. I stayed in the taxi, met up with Jeff at the goudron (the paved road, and how they refer to the national highway), and had a nice cold fizzy pineapple juice, to celebrate the first opportunity to have a nice cold drink since leaving Lome. I later had a beer as well, which are double-sized here, and which left me kinda tipsy so early in the day.
Because I might have had reason to also celebrate my survival. Not that I would ever take a moto here -- because it is against the law of Peace Corps/Togo --, but if I HAD had to take one that morning, because it was my only chance to catch up with the last bush taxi outta village, then I imagine I would have been scared out of my mind. I bet too that it would have been a very dirty and dangerous experience --knowing all too well this road from an earlier bike riding adventure, the sun already way too low in the sky when I set out, big and heavy and very red. Night fell, and I wasn't sure how far I had left to go to get to Jeff's place, but I knew it was closer than my own village, so there was nothing for it but to keep going. The air felt great, there were bush fires in the not too far distance (slash & burn cultivation), and I had Kultur Shock adding their eastern european laments (and exultations I think) to the whole exotic feel. If it wasn't for the vague fear of accident or assault, I would have felt completely happy and carefree. I don't have time to tell the whole story of my trials and tribulations that night, but the gist of it is that for my first foray out alone at night in the African bush, it was quite pleasant, despite the many bad decisions I made that eve.
So I know that dirt road and its sudden sandy pits, muddy deep ruts, and even gaping holes with rebar sticking out. I can just see myself, clinging to the moto driver with one hand, holding my stuff with the other, trying not to bounce off the back while the guy speeds along to try to catch the car in front of us, and me yelling in french, No, Please, Slow Down! and him yelling back that we'll never make it if we don't go faster, and me waving my arm trying to get the attention of the taxi driver who's oblivious and leaving us in the dust, literally, and my contacts full of the dust and I'm crying because of it, and I know it's not much better for him and HE'S the one who needs to see the goddamn road...
In terms of village life so far, there of course is too much to tell -- a day of cotton picking here (which I knew I'd love), a cholera talk there (where I heard myself spontaneously invoking the name of God -- "God can only protect us so much, we have to do the rest. He gave us brains to think, free will to make decisions, language to speak to each other." I don't know what came over me, but god is big here. They love god. He is everywhere, on every store, bar, haircutting stand, taxi windshield). An AIDS talk coming up in January, TB testing last week, palm wine (with something swimming in it. I filtered it thru gauze first.), wooden penises (to demonstrate condom use, but it is SO hard to take a wooden penis seriously), the sky at night.
The sky at night. The moon was full last week, and the harmattan has the same effect on it as on that blood red sunset. No one in the village seems to notice, I guess they're so used to the sky here. The clouds and the dry lightning storms. Orion. Orion! I was so surprised to see him here, a piece of home, and I swear the little dipper is here too, but I may be confusing it with a piece of Perseus or Pegasus or one of those others, because the little dipper is connected to the north star, so it definitely doesn't make sense. I'm dying for someone to send me a constellation guide for the equator (Kath? you're my fellow space gazer...)
Okay, I have 10 minutes. For the family, or anyone else sending packages. I would love news articles, the NYT Magazine (I devoured Jeff's, the 11/27 Tsunami issue), stuff from the Stranger (Last Days!!!!! Jill, Jenneviere?), pen refills for my G7 gel pens (that's gotta be an AMS thing, they know what I'm talking about!), pens in general, notebooks, a 2006 Lonely Planet wall calendar, or any other calendar (one for me, and 1 or 2 to give away), crayons and coloring books, Bird I want you to bring me a Swiffer in June (oh; June for vacation, any time good before the 26th). Chocolate!!!!!
okay, gotta go .. love you all... please forward to whoever, and to grandma...
| Posted to: |