It was so good to see Stacie and to meet her people! This includes the "Village People", Peace Corps People, Business People (i.e. Post Office, Internet Cafe, Marche and whoever else she deals with along the way). Stac is able to converse with people fluently in "Togo French" which is its own unique flavor and Kabiye, the local language in Kara. Everyone calls her Pialo and I was quickly dubbed PialoMama or PialoPhotocopie.
Stacie lives and a small house in a compound with a few other families. There is no electricity or running water. She has a small two burner gas cook top and a charcoal stove for cooking longer than 20 minutes. Mazzie is Stacie's puppy. She looks like a small version of Sandy, Orphan Anne's dog. Mr. Bojangles, Stacie's cat had her second batch of kitties while we were there. Only two lived. Dogs and cats are eaten as delicacies and there is little medical treatment for people, much less animals. Garbage is dumped into big heaps and burned, or in the city of Kara dumped into the creeks and gutters where pigs, chickens, goats and whatever else picks over it. There was a huge colony of huge bats in one large tree possibly fruit bats. Some of the main streets are paved, but most are dirt. It is Harmaton season which is what they call cool/dry. Dust from the Sahara Desert fills the air along with smoke from the field and garbage burning. The people are downtrodden but very nice. We were never threatened or had anything stolen or even an attempt to do so. The Peace Corps is there for a reason, it is an extremely poor country with poor infrastructure. Neighboring countries seem to be better off in so many ways. All across Africa we experienced power & water outages lasting from hours to a day or more.
In Stacie's village Lama-kpedah, were treated like celebrities. Stacie threw a Fete for us. She bought two goats which the neighbors slaughtered and prepared as well as rice and Tchouk, the local brew of millet...an acquired taste that I did not acquire. Drummers came to her house in a compound and led the procession. We had finger clackers and danced parade style down the dirt path past many other compounds to the grade school where the entire village came out to greet us. Even the Chief! A large group of women were dressed in matching panyan (a lightweight, brightly colored fabric with wild designs so sweat doesn't show - brilliant!) They danced and sang for us and then we were instructed to join them. Benches were brought out and we sat while village politicians made speeches in Kabiye, which were translated into French and Stac translated for us. After a few of them spoke she would say, they too are very glad you are here, you are the first PCV parents to visit their village. Finally it was time for more eating, drinking and dancing. The heat, dust and smoke took a toll on us and we quietly left the party and walked back along a moonlit path to Stacie's house. Shortly after we heard the sounds of drums and singing coming closer. The courtyard filled with musicians, dancers and party goers. who finished the night there.
We got to experience the African forms of transportation:
Bush Taxi or Bus = sardines but smells worse and packed in tighter, may include vegetables, animals or any other thing you cannot even believe or imagine to be true. Then you flail down the worst pot hole, dusty excuse for a road dodging other similar vehicles, motorcycles, pedestrians, animals or anything else you cannot even believe to be possible such as fallen trees or fires burning uncontrolled. Not to mention unbearable heat/humidity sweaty, smelling, stinky humanity...oh...wait that was me. Throw in the driver stopping to salute his friends along the way, one or two of the five people in the front seat getting out to walk around the police check point, who also have to be bribed to continue anyway. Not at all relieving pressure of the people packed into the back of the car trying to sit on one cheek in effort to somehow make a four passenger car into eight, or a van meant for nine to hold 20. Fill the vehicle with dust and smoke, jolting from ditch to ditch, while still hitting every pothole, slamming down with such force that the wheel falls off (yes this happened) but most likely overheats requiring the driver to stop every 15 minutes to add water. This will last four to eight hours depending on your destination, which if you do achieve this, it is considered a successful trip.
Alternately in town the Zed, Moto, boda-boda or whatever you call motorcycles, carry people, animals, vegetables, or any other thing that you can't even imagine or believe. Flail down the street through pot holes, bumps, dodging pedestrians, animals, or any other thing that you can't even imagine or believe. No helmet on driver or passenger, fast as possible, if the road is paved, there is no such things as lanes or set directions in any direction, speeding vehicles and humanity hoping to reach their destination and survive another day in Africa. No wonder they dance and party harder than anyone else - they live each day as if it were their last and very soon, most likely they will be right.
We had a awesome time with Stacie. It went way too fast. We have many more stories that I will send as we have Internet time.
We miss you all!!!!!
MamaPhotocopie & Papa John
Stacie lives and a small house in a compound with a few other families. There is no electricity or running water. She has a small two burner gas cook top and a charcoal stove for cooking longer than 20 minutes. Mazzie is Stacie's puppy. She looks like a small version of Sandy, Orphan Anne's dog. Mr. Bojangles, Stacie's cat had her second batch of kitties while we were there. Only two lived. Dogs and cats are eaten as delicacies and there is little medical treatment for people, much less animals. Garbage is dumped into big heaps and burned, or in the city of Kara dumped into the creeks and gutters where pigs, chickens, goats and whatever else picks over it. There was a huge colony of huge bats in one large tree possibly fruit bats. Some of the main streets are paved, but most are dirt. It is Harmaton season which is what they call cool/dry. Dust from the Sahara Desert fills the air along with smoke from the field and garbage burning. The people are downtrodden but very nice. We were never threatened or had anything stolen or even an attempt to do so. The Peace Corps is there for a reason, it is an extremely poor country with poor infrastructure. Neighboring countries seem to be better off in so many ways. All across Africa we experienced power & water outages lasting from hours to a day or more.
In Stacie's village Lama-kpedah, were treated like celebrities. Stacie threw a Fete for us. She bought two goats which the neighbors slaughtered and prepared as well as rice and Tchouk, the local brew of millet...an acquired taste that I did not acquire. Drummers came to her house in a compound and led the procession. We had finger clackers and danced parade style down the dirt path past many other compounds to the grade school where the entire village came out to greet us. Even the Chief! A large group of women were dressed in matching panyan (a lightweight, brightly colored fabric with wild designs so sweat doesn't show - brilliant!) They danced and sang for us and then we were instructed to join them. Benches were brought out and we sat while village politicians made speeches in Kabiye, which were translated into French and Stac translated for us. After a few of them spoke she would say, they too are very glad you are here, you are the first PCV parents to visit their village. Finally it was time for more eating, drinking and dancing. The heat, dust and smoke took a toll on us and we quietly left the party and walked back along a moonlit path to Stacie's house. Shortly after we heard the sounds of drums and singing coming closer. The courtyard filled with musicians, dancers and party goers. who finished the night there.
We got to experience the African forms of transportation:
Bush Taxi or Bus = sardines but smells worse and packed in tighter, may include vegetables, animals or any other thing you cannot even believe or imagine to be true. Then you flail down the worst pot hole, dusty excuse for a road dodging other similar vehicles, motorcycles, pedestrians, animals or anything else you cannot even believe to be possible such as fallen trees or fires burning uncontrolled. Not to mention unbearable heat/humidity sweaty, smelling, stinky humanity...oh...wait that was me. Throw in the driver stopping to salute his friends along the way, one or two of the five people in the front seat getting out to walk around the police check point, who also have to be bribed to continue anyway. Not at all relieving pressure of the people packed into the back of the car trying to sit on one cheek in effort to somehow make a four passenger car into eight, or a van meant for nine to hold 20. Fill the vehicle with dust and smoke, jolting from ditch to ditch, while still hitting every pothole, slamming down with such force that the wheel falls off (yes this happened) but most likely overheats requiring the driver to stop every 15 minutes to add water. This will last four to eight hours depending on your destination, which if you do achieve this, it is considered a successful trip.
Alternately in town the Zed, Moto, boda-boda or whatever you call motorcycles, carry people, animals, vegetables, or any other thing that you can't even imagine or believe. Flail down the street through pot holes, bumps, dodging pedestrians, animals, or any other thing that you can't even imagine or believe. No helmet on driver or passenger, fast as possible, if the road is paved, there is no such things as lanes or set directions in any direction, speeding vehicles and humanity hoping to reach their destination and survive another day in Africa. No wonder they dance and party harder than anyone else - they live each day as if it were their last and very soon, most likely they will be right.
We had a awesome time with Stacie. It went way too fast. We have many more stories that I will send as we have Internet time.
We miss you all!!!!!
MamaPhotocopie & Papa John
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