The day after the "Fete" we went to Hotel Kara and sat by the pool. Because of the holidays many of the PCV's were in transit. So when the word got out that we were at the pool an impromptu party happened. Danny who is posted in the far north of Togo and Danyelka showed up. He is a second term PCV and Danyelka is his girlfriend from his first post in Nicaragua. They were getting her VISA extended. Lizie who is stationed in the northeast, and Emily who is to the east, also were there. Kara is a hub for transportation and it just so happened they were all passing through and felt an afternoon at the pool before they went to their reclusive posts was in order. Stac and Lizie who is from Louisiana caught a Zed (motorcycle transport) and brought back CHEEZEBURGERS!!!!!! This was something special for all of us and was quite a treat. Things like this are just not available in most areas. Later that evening we went to a Togolese Restaurant and had authentic food, which was delicious :) Pate is a starchy substance from...um....boiled cornflour? There was also a dumpling thingy and rice. You picked out what type of meat or tofu you wanted and a sauce. They make tofu in Kara for the country...ironic that Stacie had to stop being a vegetarian to become a volunteer....The really funny part is I think she was so meat deprived she seems to have gone the other direction! She said when she sees a chicken it is just like the cartoons. She sees a drumstick and meat walking by.
The next morning Stacie and I went to the Marche to buy food for breakfast and dinner. It was something like a very large permanent Saturday/Farmers Market. The difference being you really don't have other options. Add the fact there is no refrigeration = creative cooking and LOTS of planning. Most of the time what you make for dinner sits on the stove overnight and you heat it up in the morning to boiling for at least five minutes, that would be breakfast. There is no "stocking up" on anything because the rats or bugs will get to it before you do. Inside the Marche there are hundreds of tables and smells, some good, some not so much...
Buying meat is a challenge you have to look past the flies, make sure it was killed that day, know what color fresh meat and fat should look like, work your way around the less desirable body parts (i.e. the head with eyes that seem to follow you, the feet, tail, hide and bucket o' stuff) then examine the carcass, indicate what chunk you desire while they hack it off with a machete. All the while the smell of blood and offal fill the air. I found that if I repeated to myself, "I'll cook this to death" over and over, then I was able to execute the deal.
I followed Stacie through the Marche holding a cloth bag. She haggled each merchant over each vegetable we needed. She had her preferred vendors and tried to get something from each one. They knew who she was and shouted Pialo as we worked through the crowd. Some of the women she saluted even if we didn't buy anything that day. They really appreciated it. I never learned how to properly salute. It is something like, "Hi (insert name) how are you? Your health? Your family? Your house? Goats etc... In turn they ask you the same. It is quite a process and can last up to 20 minutes or more if Tchouk is involved.
Papa John and Stacie walked into village one afternoon for Tchouk Saluting. I stayed behind and prepared for dinner. I found out that if I had every ingredient chopped and ready, that it was much easier to cook with a headlamp. It starts getting dark in her house at 5 pm with the dust & smoke even less light. We ate on her porch by candlelight at night and battled chickens by day.
John had a "Togo French" lesson with Marie, Stacie's French tutor. The volunteers all came out for breakfast at Stacie's and then left for their villages. There wasn't anything left for another meal, but I got to cook again. Everyday in Africa is a challenge, just to accomplish the most basic preparations for life. If you can achieve one goal beyond basic needs, it was a very good day indeed.
The next morning Stacie and I went to the Marche to buy food for breakfast and dinner. It was something like a very large permanent Saturday/Farmers Market. The difference being you really don't have other options. Add the fact there is no refrigeration = creative cooking and LOTS of planning. Most of the time what you make for dinner sits on the stove overnight and you heat it up in the morning to boiling for at least five minutes, that would be breakfast. There is no "stocking up" on anything because the rats or bugs will get to it before you do. Inside the Marche there are hundreds of tables and smells, some good, some not so much...
Buying meat is a challenge you have to look past the flies, make sure it was killed that day, know what color fresh meat and fat should look like, work your way around the less desirable body parts (i.e. the head with eyes that seem to follow you, the feet, tail, hide and bucket o' stuff) then examine the carcass, indicate what chunk you desire while they hack it off with a machete. All the while the smell of blood and offal fill the air. I found that if I repeated to myself, "I'll cook this to death" over and over, then I was able to execute the deal.
I followed Stacie through the Marche holding a cloth bag. She haggled each merchant over each vegetable we needed. She had her preferred vendors and tried to get something from each one. They knew who she was and shouted Pialo as we worked through the crowd. Some of the women she saluted even if we didn't buy anything that day. They really appreciated it. I never learned how to properly salute. It is something like, "Hi (insert name) how are you? Your health? Your family? Your house? Goats etc... In turn they ask you the same. It is quite a process and can last up to 20 minutes or more if Tchouk is involved.
Papa John and Stacie walked into village one afternoon for Tchouk Saluting. I stayed behind and prepared for dinner. I found out that if I had every ingredient chopped and ready, that it was much easier to cook with a headlamp. It starts getting dark in her house at 5 pm with the dust & smoke even less light. We ate on her porch by candlelight at night and battled chickens by day.
John had a "Togo French" lesson with Marie, Stacie's French tutor. The volunteers all came out for breakfast at Stacie's and then left for their villages. There wasn't anything left for another meal, but I got to cook again. Everyday in Africa is a challenge, just to accomplish the most basic preparations for life. If you can achieve one goal beyond basic needs, it was a very good day indeed.
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