Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Et le Travail?

This entry is all about the work I did in Togo. I did two types of work: teaching English and studying traditional medicine.

Teaching English

Soon after arriving, John, Charlotte, and I set up a biweekly English class for village middle schoolers. Because it was during the summer, it was completely optional for the students. English is taught in the middle school, so our class served as a supplement for those wanting to review what they already knew or for those wanting to get a head start for next year.

During the first few weeks, the classes worked well. Attendance was high, with the number of students being between 15 and 20. With each following week, however, attendance dropped. Eventually, there were only 5 students, and in the final couple of weeks, we didn't have class at all.

Why the decline? I would blame it on several things. First and foremost, this was the year of Waa, an initiation ceremony that happens only once every 5 years. Most students had siblings being initiated and so would have been too busy with their families to make it to class.

Some blame certainly rests on us, the teachers, as well. English is the language of opportunity, so the initial idea of English classes taught by Americans must have been absolutely enchanting for village middle schoolers - hence why there were 25 students at the first class. Upon arriving, however, students got a glimpse of reality: even though we're Americans who speak fluent English, we weren't capable of transforming them into fluent English speakers by the end of the summer. It was our job, as the teachers, to maintain an inspiring and encouraging environment despite this discouraging reality check, and I’m not sure that we succeeded in doing that. Some ideas about how to better encourage the students: we could have set up a reward system - for instance, a piece of candy for whoever correctly answers a question. We could have planned out all of the classes in advance rather than go just one class at a time with no final destination in mind. If we had had a final destination (for instance, mastery of salutations and basic getting-to-know-you conversations), we could have set up well-defined check points to make the students better feel like they were making progress.

Another problem was the lack of necessary materials. Nobody except us, the teachers, had French-English dictionaries. We didn't have simple texts for English language learners. Charlotte noticed while the students were copying down vocabulary words that many had completely full notebooks and were squishing our information into whatever margins they could find. Thus, I would suggest that the Duke in Togo students next year, should they decide to teach English too, bring cheap notebooks, writing utensils, some extra French-English dictionaries, and some old children's books from home to serve as English learning texts.

Sometimes what we lacked was the classroom itself. It was a school official who kept the key, and if the school official could not be located, we had no access to the classroom. When we did have the classroom, we lacked decent lighting. The chalkboard was old and dirty, making it hard to read. Therefore, needs include access to the key, lights (via solar panels), and white boards to replace the old chalk boards.

Studying Traditional Medicine

John and I spent time learning about the traditional medicines of Farendé. We did this by talking to a variety of guérisseurs (the French word for healers). All guérisseurs used plant-based treatments. For any given sickness, the treatment would involve collecting one or many plants and then preparing them in some way - either to be eaten, drunk, or absorbed in a sauna-like steam bath. All guérisseurs relied to some extent on the supernatural realm; for some, that was the Christian god, and for others, the spirits of ancestors. Some guérisseurs treated a variety of sicknesses, while some specialized only on one or two.

One of our objectives was to collect information. The challenges we faced in collecting information involved obtaining the names of plants. In many cases, we were only able to obtain the name in Kabiye. We had a book on the woody plants of West Africa, so we found the French and scientific names for most tree species, but we had no comparable book for herbs. However, the necessity of common names and scientific names is questionable, depending on for what purpose we use the information we collect. If the information stays only in the hands of the community, then Kabiye names are sufficient.



Our second objective was to create a better relationship between the guérisseurs and the village clinic. To do this, we organized a meeting toward the end of the trip between the guérisseurs, the chiefs, and the clinic workers to discuss how the two systems of medicine could better collaborate. This was... an interesting task. First of all, it was difficult to get a date and time set in stone. We started by going to the village chief. When we went to chief of the canton, he changed the time. We went back to the village chief, who then changed it again. It was back and forth like this for a while, with the clock ticking. Finally, a time was set, so we went around and informed our guérisseurs of the where and when. When the hectic day came (hectic because it was also the day of our goodbye ceremony), the guérisseurs who showed up were not the guérisseurs to whom we had talked. We still had a good discussion and it was still an effective first step in creating collaboration, but it would have been better with a higher attendance and with the guérisseurs whom we had interviewed. We should have set the date and time earlier, and we should have mentioned that there would be sorghum beer - then everybody would have shown!

Seeing how difficult it was to mobilize people for a rendez-vous, I would like to advise the students of next year to focus on the individual. John and I had several interviews with individual guérisseurs. If I had known that a certain guérisseur would not be at the final meeting, I would have milked that interview for all it was worth by devoting some time to exchanging ideas about collaboration between him and the clinic, rather than just discussing what sicknesses he treats and how. In other words, when you have a chance to discuss something one-on-one, don't pass it up just because a similar discussion is scheduled to occur later. Scheduling is a dubious thing in Togo, so use the instant with the individual whenever it's in front of you.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Chopping up Chickens

Photo post!


The first time we hiked up to the village of Kuwdé, the village elders held a welcoming ceremony, which involved the drinking of sorghum beer and the sacrifice of a chicken.


This guy is sacrificing a chicken for the upcoming initiation of his nephew, Olivier.


A monkey trap in someone's field! It's really nothing but a super-sized mousetrap. The cultivator told me to stick my hand on it. "No, thanks," I replied.


This lady is cool. She's from the mountain village of Kuwdé. She didn't speak a word of French, so she communicated her happy sentiments to us by dancing. It was awesome interacting with people with whom I didn't share a common language; facial expressions, gestures, and actions become the sole means of communication. It's like being at a loud concert or in a night club.


Of all the plants I saw in Togo, this one is my favorite because of the adorable white and pink polka dots on the leaves. I don't know the name of the plant, but I know it's in the family of Araceae (thanks, Plant Systematics). Our guide, Jesper, said that it wards off snakes.


Chameleon! Walking back from the market, I saw this chameleon strolling across the road. Wanting to take it back to my homestead to snap some photos, I commenced to pick it up. It clearly didn't appreciate this: it hissed and threatened to bite me. I decided that a chameleon bite was not a cool enough way to lose a finger, so I backed off, disappointed that I would return to the USA with zero chameleon photos. To my pleasant surprise, however, a kid who had witnessed the ordeal brought the chameleon to my homestead on this stick. Voilà, la photo.


Super-duper thumbs up. This picture shows my Togolese manicure and pedicure. I went to the market in Lomé and inquired about where I could obtain a manicure and pedicure. The people I asked went out of their way to find their friend who does nails. Eventually they found her, and she was an amazing sight; a market nail salon is a lady carrying a heavy case of nail polish on her head. The lady approached me, removed the heavy case from her head, and began cleaning the 5 pounds of gunk from the crevices of my fingers and toes. She did this using scissors; it was totally uncomfortable and highly reminiscent of the way dentists clean your teeth with those sharp picks. Next, she removed the chipped nail polish that was already on my fingers. She clipped my nails with scissors, filed vigorously, applied this lovely purple color, and added a protective coat of clear nail polish. The bill? Sixty cents. When I left her two dollars instead of sixty cents, her face lit up with joy. How much would the same manicure and pedicure have cost in the USA?

Je Dis, Hein...

This is a post about language. In the village of Farendé, most speak a hybrid of Kabiye and French, which one could call Frabiye. Our highly educated guide, Jesper, even spoke Frabiyanglais.

When villagers aren't talking in hybrid, and they're speaking French, you start noticing the peculiarities of their French. It's certainly not the Parisian French that we teach here in the USA. Rather, it's a mellowed-out African French full of quirks and amusing phrases. Here are some of them.

Bonsoir

In French French, bonjour (good day) is the standard hello. It can be used during any time of the day, even if it's not technically jour (day). In Togo, this is not the case. After noon, Togolese shift to bonsoir, or good evening. When you say bonjour to a Togolese after noon, they correct you by replying bonsoir, since it's evening at 1:00 P.M. Little kids pick up on this bonsoir frenzy so that they say it even when it's definitely not the soir. I heard a child say bonsoir as early as 7:00 in the morning.

My explanation for this insistent shift to bonsoir involves the nature of the villagers' mother language, Kabiye. In Kabiye, the greetings are 100% dependent on the time of day. Early in the morning, say 5:00 - 8:00 A.M., the greeting is nya na léo, which means "you and coming out [of your house]." Around noon, one says nya na ilum: "you and the sun." Finally, in the evening, one says nya n'dana (I forgot what that translates to). This being the case, it makes sense why French greetings are used in such a way so that each time of day has its own version of hello.

Ça va, non? / Comment?

The phrasing of "how's it going" is different in Togolese French. In French French, one asks comment ça va. In Togolese French, it's either "ça va, non?" or "comment?" Ça va, non? makes it seem like the asker is assuming that ça va (it goes) and just wants to make sure by asking. Comment just means "how," which is an amusingly brief way to ask how someone is doing. I became an avid user of comment. Time to adapt this in the USA: "How" can start meaning "how are you."

Et le voyage? Et la famille? Et le travail?

In Togo, ça va is followed by other inquiries. After asking how it's going, one asks about anything else there is to ask about. If somebody just got back from a trip, one inquires about the trip by asking et le voyage (and the voyage). The person's family (Et la famille?) and work (Et le travail?) are often asked about as well.

This is another quirk that can be explained by the nature of the mother language, Kabiye. In Kabiye, one asks "are you in good health?" with alafio-way, to which the response is alafia, "in good health." A Kabiye then asks about family, work, the voyage, etc. - are these things alafia also?

Voilà!

This is a phrase I heard a lot. We all sort of know what voilà means. It translates to "here it is" or "there it is" and is usually said when it, whatever it is, just recently came into view. For instance, say I'm searching for money in my pocket to pay for my ice cream cone. When I finally find the money, remove it from my pocket, and present it to the cashier, I say voilà.

In Togo, voilà is used in an abstract sense as well. When one is having trouble understanding what somebody is saying but then finally understands, that somebody says "voilà!" With my not-so-super-duper French, I tended to have trouble understanding, which is why I heard voilà so much.
Host mom: Blahoeponvwpau!
Me: Pardon?
Host mom: [speaking more slowly] *something coherent*
Me: Ohhhhhh!
Host mom: Voilà!

Bon

Bon means "good," like in good evening, bonsoir, and good travels, bon voyage. In Togo, bon is inserted into phrases as a sort of way to fill in pauses. "Qu'est-ce qu'on va faire?" "On va faire... Bon... On va faire ce qu'on peut." Translation: "What are we going to do?" We're going to do... Bon... We're going to do what we can."

Ou bien?

Ou means "or," and ou bien means something like "or even." It's tacked on at the end of a phrase of proposal. For example, "Would you like to interview some local healers today? We could go to their homesteads and see if they're around. Ou bien..."

Ou bien
is sort of a question, inviting the listener to respond with any alternatives he or she might have in mind.

Il faut...

When you're telling somebody to do something in French, you have two options. You can use the imperative form of the verb and say "do this," or you can demand indirectly by saying, "Doing this is necessary." Thus, you can say regardez! (look!) or il faut regarder (it's necessary that you look).

I don't think I heard the imperative form (do this! look!) even one time while I was in Togo. Instead, I heard il faut this and il faut that. Y a les moustiques; il faut fermer la fenêtre! "There are mosquitoes; closing the window is necessary!" I love this indirect way of demanding. It's a little less like you're pointing your finger at someone and saying "Do this! Do that! I shouldn't have to ask you to do these things!"

J'arrive / Je viens

J'arrive translates to "I'm arriving," and je viens translates to "I'm coming." When you're impatiently waiting for somebody, so you call him up and say, "Dude, where are you," these are both phrases that you don't want to hear. If he says, "J'arrive," he could arrive in 5 minutes or in 5 hours. The meaning is seldom "I'm arriving now;" it's more like "I will arrive... eventually."

Je dis, hein...

This is my favorite of all the peculiarities of Togolese French, and it's another one that I heard all the time. It translates to "I'm saying..." Togolese use this phrase right before repeating something you didn't understand the first time.
"I'm going to the store." "Pardon?" "Je dis, hein... I'm going to the store."

With my less-than-stellar French, I said pardon many, many times, so I heard je dis, hein often. Hein translates to "huh" as in, "Cool, huh?" and is pronounced like a really, really nasally "uh." The reason why je dis, hein is my favorite Togolese French phrase is because it's absolutely hilarious, largely due to the nasally hein. I don't think I ever got through hearing this phrase with a straight face. This is probably a sign that I need to grow up. One day... maybe.


A view from the village of Kuwdé.