To act or not to act? To fund or not to fund?

Thursday, Oct 31, 2013

There are some questions that I think cross the minds of all Volunteers at some point during their service, if not sporadically throughout it. Will what I’m doing will leave any lasting impact? Am I helping my “community” or exacerbating an existing mentality of dependence and expectations of handouts from outsiders? To fund, or not to fund? To act, or not to act?

I always get the encouragement from people back home to “keep doing all the good work”. And while I know the comments are well meant (and often well received during particularly depressing moments), they often leave me wondering, “am I doing good work? Will any of it last? Is there not a better course of action?”

For instance, my official counterpart and several community health agents are pushing me to find funding to build household latrines in my village. An essential component of any village public health plan, no doubt, but my impression is that latrines seem to be valued more as an expression of wealth and status than as a way to improve public health. There are many ways to deal with excrement that involve little to no external funding, and yet no one does them. No one builds traditional pit latrines, no one even digs holes when they do their business. Its just left in the open and maybe covered with a rock or a couple of teak leaves. Yet everyone wants a fancy concrete structure of any kind in their compound to show off to guests.

My counterparts say that everyone in the village wants to improve public health, they want to reduce diarrhea and protect water sources but they “lack the means” to do so and they need me, the outsider, to come in and give them the resources. He expressed his desire for a large, two to three stall concrete structure in each household, expecting me to dish out bucket loads of money from the land of never-ending wealth. They had no expectation of doing something that could be expanded without external funding, of doing something economically feasible for their community, because the foreigners are there to give handouts and we keep on giving.

I’ve refused to do anything that couldn’t feasibly be expanded upon to reach other households. So I showed some other methods of excrement disposal that are within the means of most households in my community and the most accepted by a focus group of villagers was the Arborloo, a traditional pit latrine with a concrete floor that can be moved to a new pit when the original is full. The original pit is then covered and a tree is planted over the decomposing excrement . The project plan is to provide the concrete floor and a tin roof for 20-30 households who dig the pit and participate in sanitation trainings before the end of January.

Yet I fear that even by purchasing a few sacks of cement and building solid floors for the simple arborloos we plan to build, that I’m taking away from my partners’ seeming limited perception of self-reliance. Could they not be motivated to do this project entirely off their own means? Would that not promote a greater sense of ownership and value?

On the other side, organizing this project with them and reducing the financial burden ever so slightly for the first households who will adopt these latrines may encourage them to build the latrines faster and to educate others on their construction. Knowing that they will only receive the improved floor (which we plan will cost $15-20) if they dig the pit before the end of January and participate in at least a certain number of sanitation trainings may push the recipients to take action quicker than they would if left by their own means. Using financial assistance as a means for encouragement towards further action instead of an end in itself. At least this is the course I hope the project will take.

Then there’s the egg-laying hen project another counterpart and I have been pursuing, which hosts a different range of worries for me. Bernard, my neighbor and one of my most motivated counterparts, has been raising turkeys, ducks and chickens for the last 5 years. He learned some simple methods to improve his animal husbandry from local Togolese extension agents and has adopted nearly all the advice. He built cages to protect the young chicks from hawks, snakes and shrews and he warms the cage with jars of charcoal to compensate for the warmth of the missing mother hen. He prepares feed from a mix of corn, soy, fish powder and the scraps leftover after a day of grinding things at his mill. He vaccinates according to the recommendations from the Togolese Ministry of Agriculture, Animal Husbandry and Fisheries. In essence, he is a model student who apply each bit of advice he learns. A Peace Corps Volunteer couldn’t ask for more from a counterpart (but unfortunately, partners like this are rare).

 So when Bernard asked me to help him improve his animal husbandry, I wanted to find a way to do so. At first, it was clear all he wanted was money and I was avoidant. He said he wanted to build a fence, and he wanted me to find the money to help him do it. I suggested that he could do this with his own means but didn’t expect him to do so (I anticipated he’d be like others and just wait for a handout from the foreigner). Yet less than a week later, I returned to Bernard’s house and saw a fence being built with bamboo from the stand by the river and old chicken wire he’d collected. That’s when I saw he was serious and could manage a larger project.

So I connected him with a poultry raiser in a neighboring village who raises improved breed hens for egg production. Together we have developed a project to bring 150 egg-laying hens to Solla. The hope is that this will provide the village with a quality source of protein and nutrition without needing to travel 35km to find eggs. But also, it was to encourage a motivated community member to take the next step to improve animal husbandry practices and increase commerce in his community.

So where are my worries here? First off, it’s a large project with a budget of nearly $2000 and there is only one man who is directly benefiting from this aid. He has a couple “apprentices” who will help him, but he is largely in charge and will reap most of the direct benefits from the project. Would it not have been better if we’d developed a project that had direct benefits for a larger number of people?

To remedy this, we are planning to organize trainings with various community groups to teach some of the basic principals of improved animal husbandry, such as building cages and preparing feed. But I worry that they will expect financial assistance to do this and since they are not receiving it that jealousies towards Bernard’s large project will arise.

I can already sense the jealousies coming, and the chickens haven’t even arrived yet.  Why did I choose to help this one man so much? Why does he get the benefits? Isn’t this supposed to be a “community” project, so shouldn’t the “community” share everything?

I have responses to all these questions when they arise, but it won’t make the challenges any easier. I chose to help this man because he had already taken so many steps to help himself that I could trust him to manage a large project and let it evolve once I am gone. He gets to reap the benefits because he does the work and will realize the project and help it expand so that it can include other producers as well. The “community” will be seeing the benefits, although they may not be as direct and may take time. The local shops will see proceeds from egg sales, revenue that will stay in Solla instead of going to outside communities. Students who will help Bernard sell the eggs in neighboring towns and markets will receive an income to help pay their school fees. The gardeners neighboring the chicken coop will benefit from rich, organic chicken manure to fertilize their gardens. Others will benefit from the advice Bernard gives on how to take basic steps to improve their poultry raising.

I have fears and doubts about the perception of this project and my role in it. If it will be perceived as the foreigner taking preferential treatment towards one friend and handing him all this money from El Dorado while neglecting all others. If they will say that because I am a volunteer for “the whole community”, then the project benefits must belong to “the whole community”. But it is precisely the stress from these doubts that motivates me to find ways that the project can impact others so that they can see its value for the population of Solla as a whole.

This is the internal conflict of every volunteer before, during and maybe even after a project. But it is this stress of self-reflection on projects that pushes us to create approaches that will have the greatest impact. If we do not recognize the potential drawbacks, such as discouraging self-reliance or igniting jealousies, we are bound to cause some level of harm in any project we pursue. If we recognize these drawbacks, but do not respond to the stress they cause, then nothing changes. But if the internal conflict that seems to arises when considering to fund or not to fund, to act or not to act, is respected and given the space and time to develop, I think we can find solutions to address most of our worries.

Then when people back home say “thanks for all the hard work”, we can simply say “Thanks” and not feel such doubt about the authenticity of the question or the response.

Peace Corps Goals

From April 7, 2013 (more than 6months late... I know...)

 

For the last week I’ve been involved in several meetings about organizing, monitoring and reporting the work of Peace Corps Volunteers in collaboration with host country partners. Peace Corps is apparently trying to move towards being a more official development organization with more organized volunteers and efficient reporting. While I see the value of such a change, of reporting the impact that volunteers have and transmitting our work to donors and future volunteers, I fear that such a systematic approach may neglect the most valuable impact of volunteers: the change we can bring simply by being ourselves and being present. The everyday interactions are what makes Peace Corps, not the number of people who attend some training on nutrition or benefit from building latrines.

The English teacher at my village’s high school told me about the Volunteer who helped run an English club in his hometown when he was in middle school. His greatest memories weren’t the lessons he planned but the attitude he brought. The Volunteer would speak of places in the world that the students had never seen, see their own culture through a perspective they had never had, play music on his guitar that they had never heard and lived life with such vibrant enthusiasm and willingness to explore and share his findings. The teacher told me how it was his interactions with the young volunteer that motivated him to continue school, to study American Literature at university and to embody what he called “American values” such as curiosity, open-mindedness and respect for others.

It is beautiful to me that this is the impression we leave in the hearts and minds of the Togolese. I only wish that all Americans actually embodied these values instead of the bickering hatred that I find every time I read American news. Perhaps this is why I’ve nearly abandoned following the news; I prefer to keep the Togolese image of America. Not that they always have a perfect image of us. The Togolese know very well about our history of slavery and racism, about our military presence around the world and about our hesitation to accept immigrants. But they also understand that not all Americans are responsible for nor accept these unfortunate truths.

But Peace Corps isn’t solely about cultural exchange. Afterall, providing technical assistance to host countries is our first goal. But in my experience, this too is most valuable when it comes from personal interactions verses formal trainings. A couple weeks ago I was roasting and cracking cashew nuts with some kids in my village and we started talking environment. One of the kids was asking me if in the US we have a dry season like here or a time when the wells and rivers dry up. I explained that in my hometown in California there is a time when we can expect more rains and a time when we can expect less, but our problem of dried up wells (or at least reduced production) is often caused by a different culprit, overdrawing water so that the aquifer cannot replenish the well quickly. I used the example to explain water cycles and how if the processes that remove water from a system exceed the processes that replenish it, problems will arise. For instance salt water can be drawn into the groundwater and the water from wells can become briny. I used an example from the coastal city of Cotonou, Benin where this is a developing problem. One of the kids recalled when he visited family there and the water out of their well was salty. He asked his family if they had added salt but they responded that the water from the pump near their house has been like that for years. The kid, and likely his family, didn’t think of the likely connection between Cotonou’s growing population, development and thus water use and the increasing salinity of their well water. This led to our conclusion that while we should encourage development in Togo and throughout the world, its important to reflect on the actions we take, recognize the potential consequences and proceed cautiously.

Of course, this is easier said than done. How do we balance economic development with environmental security? I’d like to say that I’m hopeful Togo can find a way to develop harmoniously, but that hope is nearly wiped away when I see the congested Lome streets, the Kara riverbanks overflowing with garbage and the huge consumption of single-use plastics even in the village setting. But all these changes are so recent in the history of Togo that maybe there is still hope.

Don't you EAT?!?!

Written October 30, 2012:

As I said in the last entry, sometimes I pretend I don’t understand questions that have to do with my husband or the person wants me to give them money and I’m just not in the mood to make jokes. But most of the time I handle these situations quite differently.

First off- the husband question. Many Volunteers choose to just say they are married and their husband is well. Sometimes this works to end the conversation and other times it leads to questions like “where is your husband? In the US? Oh well then you must take a Togolese husband!” I decided early on that this approach wasn’t for me (unless I’m in some other city where no one knows me and I don’t feel like talking). So I respond to the “How’s your husband?” question by saying the truth, that I’m not married. This is often followed by “Oh you must marry a man from Solla! Before you leave we’ll find you a husband.” Always I say that I’m not searching for one, that’s not why I’m here. But then I take it a step further.

During my training, one of my teachers (a fabulous Togolese woman!) gave me the following idea: whenever anyone asks to marry me, I tell them to buy me a plane. This has since manifested into the following story that I tell to anyone who says they want me to marry them, or their brother, or son or whomever

“Well, as is the custom here, my father insists a dowry if I am to marry someone. And the dowry he demands is a plane. You see, the United States is very far from here and my father wants to know that I can visit him and my family and I can only do that if I have a plane. So, first you buy me a plane and then we can talk marriage.”

This is lead to several amusing proposals such as “see that pile of sticks there? I’ll make a plane with that and I’ll carry you to the US!” or “We’ll talk to the clairvoyants and we’ll go to the US during the night and return before morning” or “we’ll make this lid into a plane and we’ll throw it and you’ll arrive in the US!” Occasionally, the person says that I’ll buy the plane and we’ll give it to my father, but as they already know, that’s not the way dowry works here! (Plus, I obviously cannot afford to buy a plane)

So how does dowry work here? I won’t pretend to have a crystal-clear image of the situation; I’ve only been here a month. All I really know is that the prospective groom gives something to the bride’s family or does some act to show he’s worthy and to help the families bond. I’ll ask around more about this and write another post at a later date.

If I’m in a bummer mood, a little lighthearted discussion about marriage and planes is almost always enough to cheer me up. And, I can pretty much always guarantee that if I leave the house the conversation will come up at some point. Yesterday when I told someone I wasn’t married, the women responded “Don’t you eat?”

I was completely confused. “Of course I eat. I make food at my house,” I told her.

“No, no, no. You must eat here (pointing to the mouth), but you also need to eat here! (pointing to her babymaker) Don’t you eat?!?!”

I was completely caught off guard and had no clever response. All I could do was laugh and walk away.

Then and Now

Written Oct 29, 2012:

It is becoming challenging for me to step out of my daily life and take the time to reflect on everything I’m going through. Quickly things are becoming routine and commonplace and I forget how different my life today is from my life 3 or 4 months ago.  Then I was roadtripping with a friend in the US, able able to communicate easily with anyone I met, to come and go as I pleased, able to travel hundreds of miles in a day if we so desired or find solitude on a mountain hike.

Now I’m lucky if I speak English once a week. Fortunately my French level is decent enough that I’m still able to communicate with people, assuming they speak French- which most men and young people do, but with the older generations, especially women, its rare. And since my local language skills are nowhere near conversational, there are people I encounter on a daily basis where the words we exchange are utterly incomprehensible to the other. I can only get as far as the greetings or say where I’m going or coming from, yet even that is usually enough to get some smiles (especially from some of the marche mamas who seemed to have decided that my new name is “Alafia loo”, the response to most of the greetings). Needless to say, as soon as the conversation goes past my few stock phrases, there’s little I can do but smile, shrug and say I don’t understand. Sometimes I do this even when I do understand, like when the question has to do with my husband or the person wants me to give them money and I’m just not in the mood to make jokes (more on this later).

Now, it takes me an hour to go only 20km and I have to dish out 2000CFA (about $4, which I’ve come to view as expensive) to catch a moto just to get to the nearest town with another Volunteer. Somedays the journey is absolutely necessary, afterall, that’s where my mail is sent. But most days it seems like way too much energy to leave village. And traveling hundreds of miles in a day? Forget about it. Even if I wanted to, travel here is not conducive to long distances or quick arrivals. But I’m okay with that. For now I’m content to rest where I am, at least most days.

As for the mountain hikes, well, I can do that here. But its unlikely I’ll find any solitude in the process. There are people everywhere all the time and when I go for a walk, all eyes are on me. I’ve been sick the last few days and all I wanted was to be able leave the house and walk to the hospital without needing to talk to every person who sees Ouyobekpere  (me). But that would be rude, and so despite the fact that I felt like I was about to Level 10 (Peace Corps lingo for crapping your pants), I still greeted almost everyone I met.

There is one mountain, Siriyobe, where I can find solitude, but it’s supposedly inhabited by gorillas and giant snakes so no one goes there. While I don't fully believe the stories, they only make me more curious about Siriyobe.

But despite the challenges and the occasional discomforts, for the moment I don’t want to be anywhere else. It’s a little confusing when I think that it’s nearing the end of October and no doubt the leaves of the Midwest are in full color (or perhaps already fallen up in the UP). I get nostalgic when I think of the snow that will soon come to the UP, the smell of Autumn and the coming winter, or the aroma of pumpkin pie. Or when I think of tricker-treaters showing up at my parents’ doors back in California or of the Thanksgiving feast my family will soon be sharing.

Most days I try not to think about such things. Because there is also my life to be had here. There are new holidays to learn and embrace, new seasons to follow, new languages to speak and new faces to love.

“There is something to be seen in everything, and all pleasureable; things need not be especially strange or beautiful. One can get high on the dregs of wine, and full with nuts and vegetables. On this principle, where should I not be happy?”

-Su Dongpu

Moving to Sola

Tuesday 18 Sept 2012

Yet again, its been a while since I’ve written anything, but the last few weeks since returning from post visit have been incredibly busy. From finishing up language and technical classes, to preparing for the swearing in ceremony, to packing and moving to village, I’ve found little time to sit down and dump my thoughts onto paper (or more appropriately-computer).

             But now I’m in village and life has finally slowed to a more manageable pace. So the last three weeks… where do I begin? I passed my language test shortly after returning from post visit, which would have meant I could move onto learning local language, but there wasn’t a professor to teach my local language, so I just continued with French. 

            On Thursday, Sept 6 my entire stage and the formateurs and staff traveled to Lomé for our swearing in party- the time when we move from being trainees to full-blown volunteers! This year marked to 50^th anniversary of Peace Corps Togo, so the fête was much bigger than normal. It was held at the Palais du Congres in Lome which is a beautiful building! All the host families, teachers, staff as well as VIPs from Peace Corps and the Togolese Govt were in attendance.

            In years past the event has been held at the house of the country director, but this year being the anniversary, Peace Corps went all out! Dance performances, cake, speeches, the whole shebang! Not gonna lie, it was a little overwhelming but was enjoyable nonetheless. My host family and I all wore matching pagne outfits, even my two little sisters! I love my Togolese family :D

            After the fete, we spent a few days in Lome getting things we might need for post and enjoying a weekend together and free from the structure of training. I even got to see the ocean!

            Then we returned to our training sites for one last week of classes before moving to village. Typically volunteers leave for post the day after swear-in, but this was a peculiar year. My birthday was during the following week and I was very lucky to have it fall on the day where we shared cultural events with the host families. The EAFS did a little sampling of the Super Bowl that garnished a good number of laughs from the crowd, especially with only one person playing football with himself (and tackling himself). We also did a little Bad Romance halftime show with yours-truly as Lady Gaga. What better way to spend my first birthday in Togo?!?!

            The following day was our last day at the training sites. For me this was a whole mix of emotions. I was forlorn to be parting with my host family who I had come to love dearly during the past two months, but was also incredibly eager to get back to Sola! I packed up my room yet again, something I feel I’ve gotten very used to doing over the past few years and stared one last time at the blue walls before walking one last time to the tech house and loading into the bushtaxi up north.

            The trip ended up taking longer than expected and I chose to spend the night in the prefectural capital with a volunteer there instead of arriving to post late at night, especially since it was raining and I didn’t want to risk getting stuck on the road in the dark. But then early the next morning we drove out to Sola, I unpacked my things and now my new life begins!

            I’ve spent the last few days just hanging out a lot with my neighbors, practicing my salutations in local language and discussing differences between my life in the US and my first impressions of life here. I went to a Pentecostal church session with my neighbors on Sunday, which was full of dancing! I’m going to try to attend sessions at each of the churches to get a feel for the different religions practiced here and to meet more people in my village.

            Today I think I’m going to start putting together a compost pile or gather some supplies to start making some furniture (the one downside to having a new post- there’s almost nothing in my house). Petit a petit, le oiseau fait son nid (little by little, the bird makes his nest- a popular saying here that I find myself quoting nearly everyday). The village market is also this afternoon, so I’ll go greet some marche mamas and get some things to make a tasty eggplant wagash (local cheese made my the Fulani people) for dinner. Gourmet dining, village style!

-21 Sept 2012: Didn’t end up making eggplant wagash because there wasn’t any wagash at the market.  I can’t remember what I ended up making instead… but I went to Kara two days ago to do some business and meet up with a volunteer who lives there (Kara is my regional capital where there are good markets etc). I'm incredibly happy with my post since its out in the peaceful countryside yet the city and all its amentities are very accessible. I can't imagine a better situation

 On the road to Sola

 Farming rice in Sola

 One of the mountain villages in Sola

 View from the top of one of the mountains in Sola

My host sister, Lizzy, during a meal of spagetti. Elle mange bien- and she's got the belly to prove it ;)

Life in the Mountains

            29 Aout, 2012

There’s a part of me that thinks I should be sitting down more often to write down my thoughts. I keep sitting at this chair with far too many thoughts to unload because I’ve allowed vast amounts of time to pass since I last wrote.  And yet the only reason I have so much to put down is because I’m spending my time doing things other than writing. Who’s to judge that which is a better way to pass the hours, enjoying new experiences or reflecting and recording all that occurs.

            I cannot recall what was my frame of mind the last time I sat staring at this screen, writing to it and to all of you, so I’ll just jump into what the last week has been like for me. I’ve finally gotten a glimpse of my life for the next two years; I’ve finally seen Sola, the beautiful lush valley where I will grow my new world. The week at post was fantastic and I am finding it unimaginably difficult to think of how to dutifully encapsulate the experience.

            I arrived in the valley early in the evening last Saturday, just as the sun was making its bed on the west flank of the mountains. The canton chief and several movers-and-shakers of Sola greeted me with a small fête of Fanta, boxed wine and even some champagne! (FYI a canton is a classification of region somewhat equivalent to what we call a county in the US.) After the brief greeting I was introduced to my future home: a beautiful compound in which I have a living room, bedroom, bathroom and two terraces to embrace as my own.  The house is new, and due to this it is a little impersonal as of now, but have no fear, I will change that quickly.

Extra bonus: my compound has a bounty of fruit trees including four mango trees, two guava trees and a lemon tree in addition to the small field of corn, sorghum, okra and tomatoes that inhabits the center. Needless to say, I’m looking forward to mango season already.

I spent the week visiting several of the organizations currently working in my village, including the disponsaire (medical clinic), MUCAD (microfinance office), Affairs Social, and the lycee (somewhat equivalent to high school), CEG (somewhat equivalent to middle school) and two EPPs (somewhat equivalent to elementary school).  The lycee consists of a set of tables under an open air pavilion atop a small hill in the village next to Sola center- I’m not sure what the local opinion is of this set up, but its just what I dreamed of studying in when I was cramped up in the stifling white, windowless buildings that seem to characterize many schools stateside.

School isn’t in session currently; it’ll recommence in September. There were, however, some summer classes going on and I attended one with my neighbor M’fa, who was teaching some French classes. The teaching style here is certainly different than in the states. It’s much more direct and teachers are not hesitant to call students out- while these days I feel I have the confidence to persevere in such an intense environment, I think teenage me would have been terrified.

I spent my evenings with the people of my compound, including my landlord’s wife, Hermine, who is a student in Lome, her 9-month-old son and the 6 or 7 other kids that were always running around (some of whom are my landlord’s kids, not exactly sure on the relation of everyone though). M’fa would give us lessons in the local language and I was pushed to practice my French intensively. It’s hard to believe that I’m learning a new language through my second language (in which I’m nowhere near fluent).

People keep asking me if post visit was awkward, expecting me to share stories of language fumbles, loneliness and discontent. It goes without saying that my communication was in no way perfect, but that’s to be expected so I just laugh off my mistakes. There’s a strong joking culture here so I find it easy to twist everything with humor and people seem to embrace it. My landlord said he was impressed with how quickly I’m adapting. But in reality I don’t feel like I need to adapt at all; I’m just being myself and so far its working.

To be honest, I felt more at home in Sola than I have during my entire sojourn in the south. I can’t say if this feeling will continue as I come to develop a deeper understanding of my surroundings; perhaps these sensations are only an illusion of my initial honeymoon-esque level of joy. But I hope, and truly believe, that they will only strengthen with time.