Amerika!

Ok, I am home in the US and will therefore be hunting down the last several letters I sent home to post on here and pictures too. Yeah internet! It is quite odd to be here. I am happy to see my friends and family but already miss the sounds of fufu being prepared, the Fanmilk honk, people balaying, etc. etc. I won't go so far as to say I miss the yovo song. Well, maybe a little.

Merry Christmas! Will get my usual cell number turned on today. Give me a call and buy me dinner!

Kisses,

hy

Amoebas

OK computer just ate everything I typed. Short version: got amoebas, got really sick, hve good days and bad days wondering if I should stay. Someone please proofread previous entries and correct grammar and spelling. It is killing me. Am coming home for Christmas. Please send cumin, bay leaves, mint and cilantro seeds.
Sorry, computers here make and already grumpy person grumpier.
love,
heather

August 13, 2007

So typical day at the saltmines. Got up, didn't bathe, found a 1940's turban of Mama's the kids were playing with in the dirt, crafted a fabulous outfit to match (Chanel red lipstick included) went to school (interspersed with general greeting and village excitement about my fabulous attire with the turban) learned stuff, missed 2nd class with an incredibly gratifying phone call from Mom & Dad, left school to be greeted by a full speed ahead run from the boys from my neighborhood screaming my name (I live 15mins from the school, they've never gone there and waited for me before), hung out with my boy posse for the rest of the walk home, stopped in a coutourjer (seamstress) shop to say hi and they started asking advice on the business, had a meeting with them on how to calculate REVENUE-EXPENSES=PROFIT, hard to teach an illiterate audience, but it worked. Came home finally, Mama freaked out because I wore her filthy hat with a Versace stomp (they call it "Miss Togo" as in "Louise, Louise nous voulous "Miss Togo") sat down to eat after some general revelry with the 20 kids that followed me home only to hear wailing from the 9 year old cousin who lves here half the time. "What's wrong" I ask. "She drank sodabi" was the reply. At which point I FREAK OUT. Sodabi is moonshine that could double as industrial cleaner/biodiesel fuel of the future. "Who in the hell gave her sodabi? Do you know how bad that is for children???" Everyone in the courtyard is cracking up. She found the sodabi and drank it on her own and now she is butt wasted. Honestly at this stage, around and still wailing because she got yelled at for drinking in the first place. I told her to try to make herself barf and lay down. Stay tuned for the next episode. Did I mention that I freaking love it here? I was made for this stuff.

Some day later-

So after, like, intense impatience for this artificial school-world known as "Stage" to be over, my girlfriends and I aside- we are the only girls/people out of 20 of us to
a. drink beer
b. talk about sex
c. be fun

Tonight we tried to name ourselves-since we are four, we decided on "(No) Sex in Togo" Apparently, I am a mixture of 1/2 Charlotte, 1/2 Samantha- totally accurate though I would have appreciated some Carrie fashion sense and some Miranda "know-it-all, get shit done" kind of tude, but hey, I can't be all 4 characters now can I? Carolyn is awesome and sort of from DC(Love OLD BAY) doesn't shave, is totally loud, and fun, and brash, and a professional cheerleader- hello- see a fit?? Kate is from Oregon, hippy ass lit professor mom, Middlebury College, urban planning degree from UT and dry as hell and honest and wonderful. We three are bitches. And then there is Megan- sweet sweet Megan- bad ass vintage trash digging awesome eye for color clothes wearing former high-end bedding designer from Chicago. Yes Gibran- we will all party together in Chi-town. Those are my girls. My friends, my sanity. God how I love you. P.S. If I do say so, and you know I will, we are all pretty. We are like the "Mean Girls" of Peace Corps. Dude, that's like a novel title right there. Love it. Or Heathers for those of you of my generation.

Later same night- to all future generations of Peace Corps Volunteers, NEVER, EVER underestimate the power of the hokey pokey. Seriously, If you are ever in a tight situation, teach a crowd of people that and you are golden for life.

Personal shout out continued.

6. Tasha- Thank you so much for your card and letter. I am so happy things are going well in your new job. It is true, everything happens for a reason. I am also happy to hear the car is doing well. I loved that car so much so I am pleased to know it is in good hands. I hope Brooke & Patrick are happy and healthy as well.

7. MDP Peeps- a. Debbie , my mom told me you are putting my letters on my blog THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I want to hear all of the goings on's at MDP. Fill me in!!! I miss the people and am curious to know how my accounts are doing but I am so far removed, it seems like light years ago. Even good old Baltimore political gossip would be great. Is Sheila Dixon still mayor? When is the race? Who is running? Is Keifer in the mix? How is Ed Hale? What is he up to? Do you ever see my dear Julie @ Maryland Art Place? How is Genny? I need Hampden updates!! Any Happy Hours? Pat Dugan? Are you well my dear? Give me office gossip and gripes and stuff. lee still tan and Leigh still Republican?? How are everyone's kids and marriages???

8. Julie Ann, my love. How are you? I miss you. MAP well? Any news there? Gossip? I think about you often and hope you are doing well. I am worried about you. How is Stefan? please tell me what is happening. How is your family? How does it feel to be married?

9. Bond & Lancaster peeps (except for Lipika & Andy) shame on you!! No letters? I need to know what is happening and I need Bill and Alex silly/wise words. Everyone gearing me up for the wedding of Gary & Suzie? Oh shoot- it just happened, well how was it?? Seth & Shannon, Terry's going away, Scott & Courtney, Alan & Jill- I need pictures, and gossip. I watch Jacque & Craig's Fell's Point documentary and cry. I miss you guys and I miss the hood.

10. Gibran- where is your globe trotting ass now? I need your wittiness. What are you thinking about? What is on your mind? How's Life? I need to know.

So totally random letter. Granola bars, conditioner, witch hazel, shelf bra tank tops and cute Forever 21 dresses are always welcome! Oops, beef jerky too- need protein big time! Gossip mags, Baltimore mags too. Much love as always. I am very happy here, but miss you too.

Love always,

Heather

Oh and used DVD's are great as well, chick flicks, documentaries, classics, TV shows- whatever. Anthropologie catalogs and cool ones like that! Fashion mags too please.

August 8th

My wonderful friends & family-

1. Please , I beg of you, post a note on the blog and ask for help posting my letters. No one knows if I am alive or dead and the few who truly love my bitchiness are beginning to get concerned. Thank you very much (or as they say here" akpe ka ka")
2. You know, homesickness is a funny funny thing. Mail & packages from home are so bittersweet. You should see us on mail day. We honestly smell each other's letters and shout "America, America-it smells like FREEDOM". It kind of reminds me of what it must be like in jail on mail day. "It smells like the OUTSIDE, like Freedom". Same excitement, same sniffing of efficient looking stationary. Newspaper clippings especially smell like freedom. Funny thing, distance.

3. Rachael, your letter was perfection. And we were talking. It totally heard you. General note again. Stamps are so expensive. Letters get sent to M & D, then hopefully posted. It's the best I can do. I will write more personal stuff to you shortly. In the meantime, stay away from Fair Hill and do not write to me about the HARRY FREAKING POTTER UNLESS YOU ARE GOING TO SEND ME THE BOOK!!!! Are you kidding me!?!?!?!? I love you more than always for real.

4. Lipika, dear sweet friend. Your letter was fantabulous. Please send more Lippy tales and Bond Street gossip. I crave it!! There is a Baltimore girl here that I met briefly. She is headed home for a visit in September. I begged her to go to Bond and Lancaster and hold up a sign and yell "Heather sends love from Togo." Then to go to One- Eyed Mikes. Please buy her drinks. her name is Bonnie. She promised me she would. I will get everyone back on the drinks when I get home, I promise. I miss you all dearly. Send pictures of BBQ's etc. Real ones not email. Obviously that just ain't gonna happen.

5. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY Mom & Dad. I love your love. I hope you know how rare it is and treasure it everyday. I miss backing in the glow of it and being your daughter. Noth that I;m not your daughter, but you know, giving you crap, being sassy, playing cards,etc. I know having parents like you is rare too. I am very lucky. I found this pagne to get you matching outfits, it is hilarious, but I need your measurements. For Mom, I need waist, hips, hip to knee. Dad, I need shoulders, chest, um, neck to waist????? In metric please. Just a shirt for Dad and a skirt for Mom. It will be like the square dancing days.

July 15

This note will be disjointed because I am trying to write a note with a child on my lap.

Lessons learned today:

• Unripe grapefruit bounce wonderfully and make great soccer balls. And after they've been kicked around for an hour, the juice gets ready and you can eat it.
• When playing grapefruit soccer, it is even more fun and funny to have Duran Duran and Bob Marley playing in the background
• Though grapefruits and frisbees can fall into deep wells, it is almost as much fun to get them out again, especially if the bucket falls in in the process
• Request for the letter- please send out a request to everyone we know to send many many band aids (kids ones from Ollies are a great idea and cheap) and some sort of bactine type stuff. The kids don't care when they get hurt, but it kills me.
• White people like myself plain ole can't dance "mama" points that out all of the time. "Louise tu ne dances pas bien" At least she's honest

August 1, 2007

Dearest peeps-

A quick word- I hope these letters are getting posted on the blog because there are alot of people I miss and want to communicate with and given the cost of stamps (more than a days pay for me) time constraints (non-existent), and technology constraints (also non-existent) there is no way I can do that. I had an intense "I miss Debbie" moment today and I don't want her or anyone to think I don't think about them often.

Another caveat, things have been really great lately and unfortunately I have only now found time to sit and write and I just had a really annoying moment so all of the good wonderfulness is going to be tainted with a "Heather impatience" type ordeal. So I am sitting on some steps in my courtyard, mama is cooking dinner and I am trying to work on my we noun memorization and pronounciation. This 8 or 10 year old girl who is really touchy-feely and usually very sweet is sitting next to me so I ask her to read the Ewe work first (there are pictures also mind you) and I will repeat it after her. I also ask her to correct me. I point to a word with a GIANT picture and the Ewe words typed underneath. She says the word in French. I try and say the word in Ewe, though I ask her again "Jane, you speak Ewe, I don't, I'm trying to learn Ewe, you need to teach me how to pronounce it. I already KNOW the word in French". It continues, but now after I say the word in Ewe with bad pronunciation, she just repeats what I say! Granted, it took me 1/2 and hour to realize that she was just repeating and reinforcing my incorrect pronunciation. Also, please realize that the Ewe alphabet looks quite different. (IN HEATHER"S LETTER SHE WRITES THE ALPHABET OUT BUT BECAUSE OF THE LANGUAGE I AM UNABLE TO COPY) and the word for watch (as in wristwatch) looks like this: Gafodgkui- Dude you try and guess how to spit that out. The word for child:Xedudu. Yeah , OK. Duck is fun: Kpakpaxe. That one is easy actually, but it fun to say. It sounds kind of like a chicken clucking. The fun stuff are Ewe words that come from English (there are Ewe in Ghana too). Oh, but before I get to that, do you want to her how to say "I am a peace Corps Volunteer?" Volunteer is a doozy: "Me nye l)l)nud)w)la le Peace Corps " (THE ")" ARE REALLY BACKWARDS "c"-SORRY)

OK, now for the Ewe words from English matching game.(BECAUSE WE AREN"T ALL CONFUSED ENOUGH ALREADY)
1. d)kita a. bricklayer
2. tela b.tailor
3. dreva c. lawyer
4. bikla d. doctor
5. l)ya e. driver
6. tsitsa f. teacher

Match the professions, Ewe & English. *Hint just do your best to say the Ewe word out loud and you might surprise yourself *Answers are at the bottom.

When you leave people you can also say "Bye Byelo" and the response is "Yo." Hee Hee, fun.

Adding to this intense frustration with my Ewe studying was the radio. The freaking radio. Anyone that knows me even a little knows that I HATE radio commercially type noises and will slam the off button faster that you can pop a groundhog with a rubber mallet on the Ocean City boardwalk. Ohhhhh, the food you can eat on a boardwalk. Ohhhhhhh, you don't know how lucky you are. I digress. Radio. So apparently, any jackass can get on the radio.

A. The music usually sucks. I am talking rap, hip-hop, Kenny G, Backstreet Boys, and the horror, Celine Dion. The manliest of men here, the coolest of the cool will croon, sway, and sing along to that ear filth poison. UGH. VOMIT.
B. The "DJ" talks and has very important things to say. Like over songs, during songs, whenever a thought enters their DJ pea-sized brains, they spit it out. There's more talk than music.
C. The volume. There is no halfway. Shit is loud. All of the time. Yet people respond to it as if it were background music.

Basically to my ears, it is like the worst commercial that you can't turn off. And that folks, is the cool station. That is the one that blares into the courtyard. The other station that I am hearing loud and clear is the one that Mama has on starting at 4am(on the dot, every day) is the Ewee/French- all church, all the time. Prayer, hymns, sermons, praise Jesus. And Mama, God love her, I know I do, has the worst singing voice EVER! And I am connoisseur of bad voices having a pretty freakin terrible one myself. Well, since Mama is a church -going woman, she knows all of the words to all of the hymns and sings along. It starts at 4am with prayers and hymns interspersed. I put in earplugs, but you can still hear. And Mama goes through an hour long service, on her knees in her room, her volume appropriately loud to praise God. Prayers, hymns, and since she is an opinionated woman, she throws in her "Amen", "Hallelujah", and "Hmmmhmmm". And since it wouldn't be right to not sing if you don't know all the words she hums then just as loud, stumbles on the melody, and joins in with real gusto when the chorus comes around. Ahhhh, the radio in Togo. Total ear poison. 2 different stations on normal days and nights. When other family members come, they bust out cassettes. There is one song that I absolutely LOVE! You must must find it on the Internet and listen. He probably even has a freakin Myspace page. His name is Aladzi. He is Togolese and Ewe. His songs are a mix of languages of Togo thrown in. My favorite song has a baby laughing and farting the whole way through until she/he starts crying at the end. Kokou says the song is called "Togolese" but he might not have known and said that to make me go away.

So, thanks to Heidi & Mom & Dad for the care packages and not that I'm soliciting, because after all, I have 2 years to go, but if C-Mart happens to get any cute dresses, shoes, or shelf-bra tank-tops, don't be afraid to send them my way. Also plain cotton low rise bikini underwear are always great. Bee jerky and Slim Jims, and Velvetta are wonderful as well. When I am able to use a computer I am going to try and buy stuff online. Oh! Also all Anthropologie catalogs-doesn't matter how old they are- will always be appreciated. All furniture I have to get and clothes to have to be made to order so I might as well get cool stuff. More letters soon , I promise. Love, kisses, and eat good things for me. Like sushi and Gorgonzola and spinach. And steak. And non-gross fish. And crabs. And oysters. Send rosemary, basil, mint, and soybean(edaman seeds (rachael's job)) Ama says "Dogbe". I say it as part of my salutations, but I don't know what it means and neither does she.

Love, love, love,

Heather

KEY to test:
1. d, 2. b, 3. e,4. a, 5. c, 6. f

(Everything in Capital letters was written by Debbie- sorry I had to add those comments in there.)

July 19

So many things crammed into a day. Once again, things want to come out in mixed up jumbo that won't make much sense. Mama is a retired mid-wife. She is also loud, bossy, brash, and all sorts of things that perhaps only someone who has loved Grandma Paulson dearly could also adore Mama. This morning as I came out of my room into the courtyard there were people I had never seen before waiting for Mama to return from mass. Strangers in the courtyard are nothing unusual so I greeted them blearily and perfunctorily and went about my morning business. He was in his 20's or 30's and she was bent over on the stoop, quite quiet and perhaps in pain. After dressing and sitting down to eat breakfast, they were also in the room (the only common room) across from me. Mama had returned and came out of her bedroom with a tiny first aid kit and led them into this other room that I thought was for grain storage, no one ever goes in there.

Mama comes back after a few minutes, chats about random things for a bit. I was trying not to be nosy but couldn't help it any longer "was everything OK?" I asked. She told me they had come from far, she was 5 months pregnant and the baby was "rotten" or "spoiled" (I'm translating from broken French, but that's some word you use for food gone bad). The mother had malaria and something was wrong. There was nothing I could do and I was late for lessons. Mama said she fixed it, the baby's OK now. Class was a nightmare this morning, luckily I talked to you all, so was riding high from all of that and preparations for post visit and the big conference tomorrow where we meet the Togolese counterparts we work with for the next 2 years, so it completely slipped my mind. We had the afternoon free so instead of going home like normal, we went to Kpalime for post-visit shopping, french fry eating and internet time. Coming home I want to show the family the African dress I bought for tomorrow. It's always a game to ask what Mama would have paid for something and then tell her what I paid. There's usually a huge "yovo" markup, but I am a fierce bargainer and a little local language goes a long way. I show my dress, model them for the crowd in the courtyard, you know loud fun brou-ha-ha. I take a bucket bath, come out and Mama is shouting to Ama (10 year old host sister) to bring her bleach and soap. Since Mama yelling to Ama to bring her something is by no means unusual, I stand beside her and make fun of her. Then I realize there is a hurried air that is quite unusual, I ask what's happening. She looks at me and says "the child has left" I'm thinking she's talking about her 40 year old party boy son Jean who just left the courtyard and ask "Who? Jean? He'll be back soon, he's always leaving", "no, no Louise, the baby was rotten, it's gone now." "What? What are you saying?". "It's finished, the mother is resting." Mama is laughing at the obvious shock and horror on my face and my stumbling, stumbling questions. "Louise, what's your problem, it was rotten, now it's gone, everything is fine." I walk around the courtyard in a daze. "But Mama, this is serious, it's sad....." Everyone is staring at me as if I am from another planet. "But Mama, can I do anything?" "Louise, do what? The work is finished. And what do you want to do? What can you do?" All of this is said with total bemusement, laughter, and surprise at my reaction. Everyone else is either laughing at me (not meanly, the " the yovo is so funny and strange" laugh) or going about their business. I am trying to eat and write this at the same time. They are serious about feeding their yovos here.

And all I can think of is hospitals, pre-natal care, malaria medicine, pre-mies that make it and the casualness of death here. They don't have the luxury of mourning every death.

OK, now I think I am going to lose it. No less than 5 minutes after I wrote the above, Kokou (host -brother-30's) stole a cigarette from Mama (jokingly-right in front of her), she also joking, yells "thief, thief" in Ewe, then they tell me that if a thief gets caught they throw a tire around their neck, fill it with gas, and light it on fire. Just thought you'd want to know. I mean , WOW!

No time to close properly. All is great. Off for a week at my new post in Notse. Wish me luck. I love you all and miss America!!

Love,

Heather

July 8th

So once again so many things are happening, it is hard to know where to start. Sometimes it is easier to start with the most recent and work backwards until I reach the time frame where I left off in my last letter. That may be optimistic that I will even be able to order things in such a linear fashion, but I will do my best. Then again, if jumbled up, mixed around time sense worked for Sartre and Faulkner, it can work for me.

As I may have mentioned earlier, I walk or ride my bike next to a busy road to go to lessons every day at least 4 times a day. To get to my house, I turn right on a dirt road, past the miller on the left, sound the community water pump, make a right and go into my courtyard.

The miller is the point of this story today. He truly is an extraordinary man. Most of you know how I feel about overly enthusiastic born- again. Christian types, but the miller really was alive with joy. He appreciated every single day fully. When going through our salutations in a mixture of French & Ewe, he never gave the traditional responses, but would say "Today is the most beautiful day, I am alive, you are alive, we are smiling, the children and goats are here. Look around us , today is a joyous day. I am full of the spirit of God, he is with me and I am happy" None of this was by rote and his face would shine with the meaning of his words. He was one of those people you could see from a mile off who was simply good deep inside and it radiated out to everyone around him.. He would sing as he ground the corn people brought him, over the deafening clatter of his mill breathing in the flour in the air.

Since I don't have a host father, as I adopted Dr. Bug as my grandfather, I asked him to be my father here. Thenceforth I addressed him as "mon pere". I would practically bow everyday to him because it just seemed right. He was an integral part of my day and he knew my schedule and would wait at the window for me and would know if I was late.This weekend our town was completely turned upside down with funeral of some important man in town. Tons of people from Lome were here and the streets were lined with new Mercedes and BMWs (can you freakin believe that? In one of the poorest countries in the world. These people may as well have been from Mars). There were also raggedy specially hired buses everywhere and our town was turning into a bush taxi stop as well. The streets were crowded with people wearing their best pagne (crazy colorful local cloth) suits- families would have their outfits cut from the same matching pagne. Now coming from Baltimore, I have seen some crazy African hairstyles with extensions and what not, but the hairstyles of every woman this weekend were extraordinary! Everyone from town was looking spiffy too, but you could tell the Lome-ers from the local from a mile away. The Lome women could wear make-up like we're used to and in a mainly subtle fashion. The local women I see everyday had lipstick on their eyelids and eyeshadow on their lips. The local men are mainly respectful, friendly, and non-threatening, the Lome men hissed and shouted "yovo" (foreigner in Ewe- we get called that at least 20 times a day). That's OK because when you respond back in Ewe and make joke they fall out of their seats on the side of the road in shock and the women literally roar with laughter ( and I like to think respect too), whatever- yovo-1 Lomer-zero.

So when I didn't see the miller working on Friday I assumed that he had to do something with the funeral and a cousin or some such was filling in. We also got our posts assigned that day, so I had a lot going on. Saturday comes and I have class then go to Kpalime to try internet again and buy pagne. I come home late and sleep at school to watch movies.

I woke up this morning immediately realizing I haven't seen mon pere for 2 days and vow to ask someone where he is. Well, he died this morning, to make a very long story short. My family only found out about 1/2 hour before I asked. Of course I burst into tears and ask if I can visit his family, where will the funeral be, etc. etc.

So my family takes me up the road, through some cornfields and winding paths to the miller's house. There are about 20-30 people sitting on stools and benches under the trees and wife sitting on the steps surrounded by women and family. Some people are sobbing and wailing. I'm trying to hold back tears because I'm not sure if it's ok that a yovo who they've only know for a month is crying. My family leads me to her, I give her my condolences, crying, and we hug and cry for a bit. Then they lead me inside to see his corpse laid out and shrouded. He just looks asleep, but I can see a huge lump which must be a hernia of some sort. They said he had it for a long time, but couldn't afford the surgery to fix it. I gave the wife some money to get his body taken back to his native village and we sit back under the trees and cry.

There are so many thins I could say about mon pere, thank god we got our picture taken together just 3 days ago. I really did love him.. This type of thing is what keeps me here when the petty things are tough. If I can help create sustainable businesses that employ people then those people can afford surgery.

There's so much more to share about life here, but this time I will give the miller his due respect and end here.

Thank you and I miss you all.

Love Always,

Heather

Request

Sean- If you know of some sort of laptop cover that would have been useful in the dusty season in Afghanistan, please send as I will be working during a similar dusty season with winds off of the Sahara. Also reserch project for Fells Point crew, Dr. Nikolov at Towson Dr. Tainson or Dr. Duncan can you please give him the blog address?), or if Javier knows anyone in Anthropology at Hopkins. I would like to read all available research and fieldwork on the Tamberma and also the Betamarimbe people in North East Togo and the latter in Northwest Benin. They live in the Tata Somba houses. Not only would I like to be well-informed in order to effectively and sensitively do my work, but also in my spare time see if I can add to the body of existing knowledge or a future PhD thesis of some sort. Please communicate through comments sections so there are no duplication of effort. It's OK if the sources are in French, but English is always preferable and I'll take what I can get. Also a small phonetics/linguistic book would help as the language I'll be learning is probably not written and is not used beyond the area. I would really appreciate as much help as possible as technology is beyond my grasp and academic libraries a long plane ride away. I know this is asking a lot. If the professors are helping maybe they could craft an assignment around it? If money is needed for shipping or book purchases, please contact my parents and consolidate effort there as well. I can't thank you enough. Hopefully, this will make my work more effective and also create sensitive tourism and approaches.

Love,

Heather

June 28th letter

It's 7:55 pm and I am in bed and was trying to sleep, but the singing evangelical miller who lives behind me is really going at it tonight. I swear to you his voice is just like Harry Belafonte's. It's lovely and the miller is so nice, I feel guilty putting my ear plugs in. Plus it is a bit early I suppose. A minute ago, I swear to you he was singing the Ewe version of the song that is something like "if you want to be happy for the rest of your life make an ugly woman your wife". It is cracking me up because the tune is the same (interspersed with breaks for evangelical shouting/praying/sermonizing- I know this because though I may not speak Ewe yet, beyond the basics, "Amen" and "Hallelujah" are universal) but sung in Ewe about being born again.

There are so many things here that tickle my funny bone and I think will sustain me while I am here. I have two more examples as well: I went to a wake the other night for someone in my family (extended- they live in the village, but not in my courtyard). Wakes are a really big deal here (aside - everyone gets their village name and their name tattooed to their forearm so if they die somewhere else they can be brought home for a proper burial. The girl that died had been in the hospital in Lome, so she was apparently brought back in a refrigerator in a pick up truck. Think about it- how else it going to happen? Thank god they had enough money for that). Anyway, the wake is supposed to be a joyous affair. We walk over at night, around 8. A rarity, it was my first time here out after dark. We come to a huge tree in the village with fluorescent lights hung from the branches, over 100 chairs set out, a big drumming and other percussion circle with singers, dancers, etc. There were a few speeches, but mainly songs sung by a group of special women, with men drumming. Then women from the audience would get up and dance in a circle around the drummers. All under a huge tree. Pretty freakin cool. Then they pass around plates for offering,then hand out candy. Or what I thought was candy until I put it in my mouth. COUGH DROPS.....Freaking cough drops?!?! Ahh, stuff like that takes you from be in sappily blissed out in your National Geographic moment to silently giggling at the incongruity of it all. I love this place.

The other funny thing is - you know the crazy colorful awesome African cloth I said everyone wears? Often it is abstract or pictorial in a way that you would imagine like flowers, or birds, or elephants. Well sometimes they depict other things like: drumsticks (as in chicken), sometimes the whole roast, sometimes TVs, toasters, cell phones. I saw a crisply pressed suit this morning with giant taxi stands on it. I'm talking street lamp, cobblestone, guy leaning against street lamp- all in fluorescent yellow, electric blue, vibrant orange etc. An entire suit! I bought one that looks like the inside of an ornate French cathedral, but I heard a rumor there exists ones with Saddam Hussein. I am SO on the lookout for that. Are you kidding me? A flirty dress copied from an Anthropologie catalog covered with Saddam Hussein with drumstick trim??? Seriously, I even have spies on the look out in Lome for especially weird ones.

So we got descriptions of the 19 posts the SED (small enterprise development) volunteers will be gong to at the end of training. I found one that my heart is set on- it is in the north (think hot, dry, dusty, but with baobab trees). There is a really traditional ethnic group called Tamberma who live in these amazing fortress crazy house/ hut things. UNESCO just dubbed it a world heritage site. It might be the only one in West Africa aside from Timbuktu. Google it for me. It is really remote for a SED post, but that's what I want. They are really independent and don't bother with the "Christian/Muslim during the day and traditional beliefs at night" idea the rest of the country has. They straight up have skulls hanging all over the place. You have to go 24K down an unpaved road to get there. I will work in trying to create tourism, support entrepreneurs, and work with micro- finance institutions. I hope I get it. I am already a "kiss-ass", but I am sucking up big time to be sure. By the time you get this, I'll already know. Got to go, it is late and mail pick-up is tomorrow. Write letters, send stuff don't forget me. Don't forget I love you.

Love Always,

Heather

help

Could anyone that is a guru assist me with posting Heather's letters on the blog? Also if you want to read other information plese call me Donna Yorkston, Heather's Mom 410 679 9579 . If you send a box for Heather we may wnat to coordiante items add what you send to the site. Thank you. Heather is well I spoke to her this am. She misses yu'all.

This is me my first day in village.

We also killed chickens for the fourth of july. My mom is supposed to uploading my letters on here, but if someone could call and help her out, I would really appreciate it. I am only able to use internet now because we are using Peace Corps computers in Lome. There's a long line, so obviously even pictures are tough to do. Internet as I am sure you have now realized is quite impossible and will continue to be so for the next few months while we are in training. Once we are done and get to post it will be much easier. Life is great here, but tough as well. This is definitely what I am have been meant

to do and am so happy to be here.

The second picture is me with my host family at a fashion we did with american and togolese fashion. I haven't gotten fat, just majorly stuffed my bra to fit the outfit. Last pix is in my courtyard with my family and some neighborhood kids. Look at the double rainbow!

It is hot as goodness here and the humidity is something else. My health has been pretty good so far let hope it holds.

All for now, please bug my mom to post my letters.

Love,

Heather

Grammar

I used poor grammar so Heather could correct me! Guess Who

Arrival to Togo

Heather arrived safely she said she loves it. Here is my numbers if anyone wants to call and chat 443 562 8501 or 410 679 9579 Love to all Mom

Here with my fellow ideologues

Is that a word? Meh, who cares - you get the point. Here I am with people who don't say "you're nuts"; who don't ask "why". It is a beautiful thing. 35 peeps, mainly female, all with a dream or a vision -- and a conscience. It is really great. And strange. And bittersweet. I love my friends and my family, but this is what I am supposed to be doing.
All is right and I am in DC with those with whom I will be spending the next 27 months.
We ate Malaysian and drank Singapore Slings and now it is time for goodnight - to my family, my forever friends, and my new friends.

Going Away Party

Just wanted to say thank you to everyone that came to my going away party. You have made my last few days here special. I will miss Maryland and all of my friends and family greatly. And Javier, your pix are great, thank you so much!

Pre-Shipwreck pix recovered!

This is early on in the experience, we dragged the boat over a sandbar into the marsh and kept paddling. It was totally an "African Queen" experience minus the hippos. There were bullfrogs, eagles, and herons though.




For the record, I made Carl wear the tie-dyed shirt.




Note the open water, that's where we were when the boat capsized. Granted we capsized after everyone along the shoreline came out to their docks to watch the scene unfold. A bit mortifying for my pride and I given I grew up here. This is all while a large power boat was attempting to drag us into safety. Doesn't really work when the wake sinks the boat. Live and learn and have fun doing it!
Oh, and it was the perfect situation to break in my Chacos and Ex Officio shirt -- they both performed admirably.

Down the homestretch

OK, so I have resigned myself to the fact that my luggage is over the allowance. Nothing I can do can get it under the required weight and I refuse to jettison a single pair of shoes. I already got rid of all of the candy bars and beef jerky to make room for more shoes. Ahhh, fun. Part of this entire exercise is to free myself from the bonds of consumerism and more more more, but really, a girl needs to be eased into this sort of thing.
On another note, if I have ever lent anyone on this list any DVDs (specifically looking for "Funny Face", "Harry Potter #4", and "The Gods Must be Crazy") I need them back!!!
So I had an amazing adventure with Lipika and Carl the other evening that resulted in our boat capsizing and sending my cell phone for a swim. We had to drag the boat back through the river and my parent's evil daschund had to sit on my head for the rescue mission cause his little legs don't swim so well. Lightening crashing all around dragging a metal rowboat in the middle of the Bush River. Too bad I can't get some of the pictures off of my now-dead phone, cause damn I bet they're good.
The disjointedness of this and all other previous posts so far has been pretty respresentative of my frame of mind right now, so sorry for the tough reading. I imagine it will get worse and things get more and more bewildering -- so much for this experience making a writer out of me!
Ta ta for now!

This map will be helpful when I start talking about place names. Lome is the capitol and we will train for 3 months in Kpalime. There are butterflies, cocoa, coffee, waterfalls, and mountains there. It is supposed to be lovely and cool.

I love you Baltimore

Ahhh, I am going to miss Baltimore so very much. I love this city with all of my heart. My decision to join the Peace Corps was not taken lightly, not only because of the challenges I will face, but the challenges my beloved city faces every day -- the problems I will be walking away from.


It is important to me to understand how a majority of the world lives. I do believe that borders are arbitrary and artificial and the problems of the world are therefore mine as well. We as a country and as a city will only get better if the world gets healthier.


I have lately had some daydreams inspired by the "Boys of Baraka". When I worry about leaving the issues of Baltimore, I salve my conscience with the idea that perhaps I will forge contacts and learn new ideas to not only bring back to Baltimore, but perhaps to be able to temporarily transport some of Baltimore's most troubled youth to a school or a program I set up somewhere on the African continent. I know the school didn't last because of bureaucratic issues, but having worked in insurance for 10 years, if there is something I can deal with it is bureaucracy on an African scale.


This is a ramble, I really just wanted to get off of my chest how much I love Baltimore and I want to thank Coralie for having the patience to make all of my "Funny Face" dreams come true. Granted, I should have been wearing a boatneck, nipped waist, full skirted 50's dream dress with a pillbox hat, but this is good enough:

Also, if anyone has any "Believe" stickers, or better yet the French version, "Creer", please please give them to me. I will take pictures of them up in my village and send them to you.

Ummm, yeah. This is what it feels like.

Packing

OK, just a little something here in case it doesn't like for people to subscribe when there's no real blog.
So, I am packing away. I mean how do you honestly pack for 2 years? I have like 20 pairs of underwear, a french press (I like my coffee and I like it strong), and duct tape. I mean really. I have to dress for potentially pooping my pants and being at the ambassador's house all at the same time. Are you catching my drift?
It takes me ages just to get dressed in the morning and now I have to add no-stick frying pans and handcrank shortwave radios into the mix?
Shannon, I think I may need to bribe you to come up to Harford County and help my ass before I go a little batty.
In the meantime, you can find me in the Dr. Bronner's aisle with armloads of ziploc bags, m'kay?