The Road Less Traveled

The road to Kara

Another program driver, Alex, picked me up at the Hotel Ibis around 8:00 in the morning. He was a little late because of the rain. We then drove through the city to pick up Mary at her walled compound on a small dirt road. Then we began our 420-km journey to Kara.

On the way to Kara I saw many villages with huts, though it seemed many of the huts were used for cooking and storing motorcycles. Other homes were made out of mud brick. The richest homes had concrete walls and tin roofs.

On the sides of the road I saw many women and children walking with bags, tin bowls, or bundles of wood on their heads. They wrapped cloth into a small, flat circle to act as a buffer or balance between the object and their head. Sometimes children were
carrying bowls of water to their house. Mary said in many villages there is no running water and no electricity.

I saw two other things on the side of the road. Many women and children left squares of crushed corn or cassava on the side of the road to dry out. Sometimes it was on a tarp or canvas, sometimes it was directly on the street. I also saw cars or trucks broken down on the side of the road. Sometimes the vehicle placed a series of leaves in front of and behind the vehicle
to tell other drivers there had been a breakdown. It reminded me of the branches left in Ukraine and Moldova to warn pedestrians about uncovered potholes.

I thought I had read in my guidebook that I would see grassland, something like the movie “Out of Africa”. And apparently if one goes near the Burkina border one can see just that. Instead what I saw were lush, tropical valleys and hills, and the occasional river.

We arrived in Kara about 2:00 and checked into the Hotel Concorde. Mary and I had a quick drink, a Gatorade-like diet soda called Sport Aktif, at the hotel bar/restaurant. Mary had wanted to eat something before her 3:00 meeting, but the cook had run off to the market.

Lunch and the market in Kara

Alex took Mary to her meeting, and Jacques took Jean (the local assistant to Mary) and I to a restaurant for lunch. Thinking of Mary’s advice that eggs are always safe (and safer than fish or lettuce) I had an egg-tomato “omelet sandwich”. It was excellent—because this is a Francophone country, you can get good bread and omelets anywhere. The price was reasonable too (less than $1). I also tried Castel Beer, which was good.

After lunch, Jean asked what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to walk around and see the city, or see the markets. So we walked a bit around the Grande Marche (Large Market) of Kara. The arrangement of the vendors and the road conditions reminded me a lot of one of the piazzas in Chisinau, Moldova. There were of course some differences. Some stands had a pot of hot oil with plaintains or cassava cooking in them. My favorite one so far has been the stand with chicken wings in a spicy red sauce—it looked like Buffalo wings back home.

I saw many fruits and vegetables for sale. The cucumbers looked okay, but the tomatoes and peppers seemed very small and appeared to be going bad. The bananas were a little overripe but looked good displayed in circles on trays. I saw dried cassava and took a picture—it looks like chalk. I also saw the biggest yams I’ve ever seen, and took a picture of that too.

I bought a few things in the market. I bought a palm fan like the one I saw at the Hotel Ibis restaurant. I saw what I call “babushka bags”, the plaid nylon bags old women sell in Ukraine and Moldova and which are also popular in China and India. But I saw more than plaid; I saw solid colors and pictures of birds and places like New York or Italy. I had to have some of the new styles. With Jean’s help I got them at a bargain.

First day of work

We went back to the hotel so I could take a brief rest and check out the two channels on TV. Then we drove to SIL, the language institute run by a bible translation service. This is where the meetings would be held. I was surprised to see such a large complex with Western money built on a dirt road near goats and chickens.

Upon arrival, I met some of the teacher trainers from the Ministry of Foreign Languages, called DIFOP. At 6:00, Jean welcomed everyone, and then had me take the floor. I am used to the unexpected, but the only thing I could think to do was turn it into an icebreaker activity, and then ask teachers to tell me about teaching in Togo. The most surprising tidbit was that the average class size is not 50 but 80 students; some schools have as many as 120 packed in. I could only hope what I was teaching would be applicable in such large groups.

Hangin’ with the PCVs

Mary called the Peace Corps volunteers she knew of in the area, and arranged to meet them near the hotel at a restaurant called Le Chateau. Eddie from L.A. and Mike and his wife (whose name escapes me now) from North Carolina were with Mary in the air conditioned room of the restaurant playing pool, drinking beer and sodas, and eating pizza. They told me some hairraising stories about bad taxi rides, sleeping outside because it was too hot inside, and more. It was quite enlightening.

Early start

I woke up at 6:30 in the morning. Not because of jet lag, but because on the beach I heard music again. Drums and bells. It sounded like the final lap of a race. When I opened the curtains, I saw men in shorts and tank tops running. I later asked a program driver about it, and he said different groups go running for exercise. Along the way they play drums or bells.

The musical wakeup call was my first opportunity to see Lome in the daytime. It was only then that I realized my hotel room had a view of the beach, the ocean, the restaurant, and the hotel pool. It was so beautiful, I didn’t mind that I had to get up at 6:30
a.m. to see it. By the third weekend though, I was wishing I could sleep in a bit later.

Second haggle

Mary, the program officer who arranged my visit, picked me up at the hotel a little before 12. She knew I needed to use an ATM, and said she needed to as well. Afterwards we could go somewhere for lunch.

I got into her car, a large Toyota station wagon. I was surprised and impressed that she would be willing to drive in Togo, let alone in such a large and expensive car. I found out later that she has worked in the region for many years and is married to a guy
from Benin, so she has learned to cope more or less with the road conditions. Also, the car had been bought at the port of Lome so it wasn’t that expensive.

We drove to the nearest bank, which I learned later from my map is on Rue de Commerce. As we got out of the car, a man approached us trying to sell necklaces. They looked nice, but I didn’t want to get into bargaining just then. We got our money at the ATM machine while a security guard sat a few yards away, then we went to the nearby supermarket. Many of the
products were French, and many were grain-based. The only things that stood out as unusual to me were the peanuts in old liquor bottles, halal meat (15 percent of Togo is Muslim), and the chocolate bars in the refrigerator section. It was also at the supermarket that I saw some good postcards; Mary said it was probably a good place to buy them so I did.

As we left the supermarket, another gift seller approached us to see if we wanted to buy anything. He had some cloth purses and pencil cases that looked interesting. I passed on the leather wallets and the leather-covered fruit knife. I chose two cloth purses
and a pencil case. Mary helped me get a price that left me fleeced but not completely fleeced. As I was getting ready to leave, a woman wrapped a cloth in traditional African colors around my waist. I don’t think anyone has done that to me since I wore a hula
skirt in Hawaii, and given that I was 5 years old and don’t remember much about the Hawaii trip I’m not even sure about that. It seemed to be a good fit. Again, I probably paid too much but Mary helped me get a halfway decent price. As I was leaving, the same lady gave me a bead bracelet, which she said was a “cadeaux” (a gift). For some reason, I was touched by that generosity. I wear it all the time now.

Mary said at that point we were at the entrance to the artisans’ market. I was stunned to hear that. The road into the market was a dirt one, and the stands looked quite ramshackle. It didn’t seem like a proper home for artisans. I was afraid if I didn’t leave
soon I’d spend all my money in one day. Mary said when I got back from Kara, she’d have a Togolese person take me shopping so I wouldn’t get ripped off. Plus by then I’d have a better sense of the country and of the value of goods.

As we were getting in the car, the man with the beads approached us again. Again they were tempting, but now I was sure we didn’t have time for that. He seemed pretty angry about that, especially since he could see I’d bought stuff elsewhere. He was even standing in the car doorway, and I feel lucky that I could eventually get the car door closed. But I did and we took off towards the center of town.

Lunch in Lome

As we were driving, Mary saw a croissant place and suggested we stop in. It looked a little dingy, but I didn’t want to be picky. However, it turned out that although they advertised croissants, they didn’t have any. Nor did they have coffee. The shwarma and fries looked good, but Mary said sometimes lettuce has bacteria in it, and if I was going upcountry, I shouldn’t risk getting an infection. She said she knew another good Lebanese place, so we drove over there. It’s next to the Hotel Palm Beach, which she said was walking distance from my hotel if I go in the daytime and don’t carry a big purse. I never got brave enough to walk back though.

Instead of Lebanese food, I opted for a French ham and cheese sandwich (served on a baguette panini-style) and “Cocktail du Togo”—a blended drink of avocado, banana, mango, and honey. The cocktail sounded awful when I first read the description, but then I thought, when I will I have another chance to drink a cocktail du Togo? And although the green color from the avocado was slightly off-putting, I couldn’t taste it so the drink was delicious.

Second night at the hotel

Mary drove me back to the hotel around 2:00. I put the essentials into my wallet with a strap, left my purse in the hotel, and started to walk along the beach. The street food and street people looked interesting. I might have walked on further, but the
clouds started to gather. I just barely made it back into the hotel before the storm hit. I was a little disappointed—I wanted to walk around more. By the time the storm had passed and I was motivated to leave the hotel room, it was nearly dark. I was afraid to be out on the street alone at night given all the warnings I’d heard. There were taxis and motortaxis which could have provided a fun adventure, but I wasn’t sure where to go or how I’d get a safe taxi back to the hotel (a leftover paranoia from my recent trip to Mexico City, where taxis are a target for bandits). I probably also would have been overcharged for the ride. I thought about the Hotel Ibis café/bar/disco across the street, but when I checked it out at 3:00 p.m. it looked pretty seedy and I was sure at 6:00 p.m. it would look even seedier.

In the end, I decided to stay in the Ibis compound. I went to the bar downstairs and tried an “Eku”. It’s a Bavarian beer that is bottled in Togo. It was very good. The bar staff offered me peanuts to go with it, then toasted coconut. Yum.

I went to dinner at the same hotel restaurant I’d been at the night before. This time I decided to branch out and try an African dish, gboma dessi. I wonder if the waiter, Ambroise, was surprised at my choice; he made a point of saying it was a Togolese dish and then gestured to the plant on the table to indicate I’d be eating a plant. I asked if it was hot (since cooked plants generally can’t hurt people as much as raw ones can) and he said it was. So I went for it.

I feel bad that I couldn’t finish all of it, and not just because I paid 6000 CFAs for it. It was spinach, meat, and fish in a brown spicy pasty sauce. The rice on the side helped balance out the heat of the dish. I could have done without the crab claws and crab body on and in the dish, but other than that it was great. The waiter asked if I wanted dessert, but I pointed at my stomach and said I couldn’t. He said in English, “tomorrow, don’t eat outside.” I laughed and said next time I wouldn’t.

Arrival and immigration

When the plane arrived from Paris at Eyadema airport in Lome at 6:30 p.m, it was already dark. Nevertheless, I could make out palm trees around the airport. My UCR colleague Carol, who spent 3 years as ... [Continue reading this entry]

I got back on American soil on September 22 after
nearly 3 weeks as an English Language Specialist in Togo (
West Africa). It was absolutely fantastic. I took
nearly 300 pictures which I’ve whittled down to 4
albums, ... [Continue reading this entry]

When it comes to the 4th of July in America, my main goal is to find the best place for fireworks. I had heard on the radio that Morongo Casino and Resort was hosting fireworks on Monday, July 3. It ... [Continue reading this entry]

On a Saturday in June, two of my friends from college who now live in Kirkland took me winetasting in nearby Woodinville. I had actually been to the area many years ago--the famous Chateau Ste. Michelle winery is there as well ... [Continue reading this entry]

I went to Seattle for four days in June. I got lucky weatherwise--it only rained on the drive to and from the airport. My cousin told me it had only been raining there every 3-4 days, which is kind ... [Continue reading this entry]

We had another big breakfast, and decided to take a few hours in the morning to walk around Munich before heading back to Peter’s hometown for New Year’s celebration with friends. We went to the Victualienmarkt, an outdoor farmer’s ... [Continue reading this entry]

We woke up at a reasonable hour for Fruhstuck (breakfast), included in our room price. The dining room was small, but the food and service were very good. There was meat, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggs, bread, cereal, and ... [Continue reading this entry]

The Drive to Munich We left Peter’s hometown in the morning. Although there had been some snow the night before, the roads were remarkably clear. We had Peter’s father’s Mercedes with all-weather tires just in case, though. About two hours into the ... [Continue reading this entry]