Lomé is so noisy

A black and white bird sits at our bedroom window each morning and sings praises to its creator. It doesn't take long and it's joined by other joyful singers. All this would be wonderful, if it wasn't at 5:00 am! Anyway, how can anybody praise God at such an ungodly hour?!

Shortly afterwards our watchman goes around the house to switch off the lights. Inevitably he stirs up the dogs. We are thankful, that our two German Shepherds look and sound intimmidating. They are certainly keeping uninvited guests away and the whole neighbourhood awake. Has anybody ever succeeded in turning the volume down on dogs?

Now it's time for the bread man to toot his bicycle horn, energetically. We made the mistake and bought his merchendise once or twice. Now he thinks it is his duty to supply us with his bakery products every morning. He doesn't get it that we'd rather sleep. WHO WOULD WANT TO EAT FRESH BAGUETTES FOR BREAKFAST ANYWAY?

By now, it's about 5:30 am and the construction workers begin their labour in the neighbouring plot. Once there was even hammering going on early one Sunday morning. But not for long, I have to say. He had to face the breath of his unbrushed neighbour.

We finally close our eyes again and fall asleep. You know what is going to happen next. Yes, it's 6:00 am and the alarm rears its ugly head. Oh, I could send that thing flying. But then I wouldn't have a mobile phone anymore. Just give me 10 more minutes of sleep...

Somehow I don't remember Africa being so noisy. Every sound seems to be amplified, from shouting preachers to roaring traffic. There is no escape from the sonic flood. I so long for deep silence. But somehow I believe I won't get to hear it here in Togo.

Fiona practicing her skills as a headhunter.
Papa promised the girls a tub of gummy bears
for each singing bird they bring down with the slingshot.
No payouts yet.

in the box

The dispensation of signs and wonders has not yet ended. We received a parcle from Germany in our P. O Box this week! It had only been in transit for about a month. This is particularly amazing since the Togolese postal service is very sloooooow, unreliable and known to "loose" things. No wonder that the workers are unmotivated for they don't receive a regular salary.

If you are ever overcome with a sense of compassion and feel the need to send us some luxury articles like Kool-Aid, packets of salad dressing or gummy bears you might want to consider NOT sending them to this P. O. Box 252 in Lome.


Instead you can use a more reliable destination in the neighbouring country Ghana. Our Friends have a privat mailbag:
HCJB Global
CT PMB 218
Cantonments Post Office
Accra, Ghana
West Africa

For mail from you, we would even drive to another country!

School Days

We are old hands at this homeschool thing. We just finished our 3rd week! It has gone well so far, though it's nothing like the "real" thing. Both girls have had trouble getting used to it.

Fiona says, "This isn't my REAL school, that's in Kansas."

Elena said, "It just doesn't FEEL like school."

I know what they mean, but this is what we must do for now so we'll make the most of it.

We are meeting in our spare bedroom. It is the spare bedroom as it has a bed in it, but that bed is covered in books and papers. There are 3 desks--and a table next to an Action Packer for Sydney--and we now have loads of cool things on the walls. I think the more we get into it, the more it'll "feel" like "real" school.

Last week, they knew their school in Burdett started and it was somehow hard to be here and not there. However, they can write to their friends and even their classes which makes them feel slightly closer.

Here are a few photos. Roger says that if we weren't so impatient, they would be better photos. I doubt any amount of patience could help me though!!!

"It's way quieter here," said Sydney as the electric organ was quietly playing the opening hymn at church this past Sunday. An advantage to having our own wheels is that we can go to church wherever we want.

This past Sunday we went to the small church which meets in the chapel of the Baptist Seminary. The sermons are always in French and English (not Ewe and sometimes French) and they even have a Sunday School which they will translate for the kids.

It was a nice experience for all of us but I guess the main thing we liked about it was that, like Sydney, we were glad it was quieter. Oh, and we each got a Coke after the service, compliments of the Sr. Pastor to welcome all newcomers.

We've got a car!

After months of waiting, weeks of searching and days of running around, we finally have four wheels. Quite frankly, we were so desperate at the end, that we took anything that we could get. The vehicle was a real bargain. Isn't that what good stewardship is all about?!

Actually, this is the chosen one! A Nissan, which we just christened "Yovo" (the Ewe word for white person). Although it's a bit rusty, the overall condition is not bad, despite its 180.000 km on Africa high - or better - byways. Tomorrow morning we'll take our first drive to the beach. Can't wait!

Dog food

It has been brought to my attention that some of our 4-legged friends (those with whom our blog has been shared) are a mite jealous that our dogs get a cooked meal every day.

Let me assure you it isn't all it sounds. You see, they don't get to eat those lovely dry nuggets or that scrumptious moist stuff from a can. If we wanted to feed them such fare, we'd have to sell an arm and leg--it's just way too expensive.

However, we can buy rice by the 50 kg bag and bones from the butcher which have, unfortunately, to be cooked before the dogs can eat. It isn't a pleasant meal for me to prepare (I can't stand the smell of cooking bones and various other animal parts) but I can't honestly speak for the flavor, you must ask the dogs. Their favorite is when we put left-over gravy or pan juice in the rice.

However, they just might like a can once in a while--if they knew what they were missing.

African Cook

I'm so proud of myself! Today I started a charcoal fire and cooked the dog food, and most of our supper on it. It's VERY hard to find gas for our bottles (and when we find it, it's very expensive) and we had to find another way to cook. Yesterday Meme, the lady who works for us, bought a charcoal cooker and charcoal. She doesn't work on Thursdays, so I tried it myself. Believe it or not, I did it!! I got the thing lit and began cooking. The fact that the entire house smells like charcoal--which I can't stand--doesn't matter, I saved gas. We don't have a real "outside kitchen" and I thought our little "porch" thingy was enough. I need to find a place MUCH further from the house next time. Anyway, I'm proud of myself that I've become a good African cook today. Just have to get rid of this terrible charcoal smell!

Spot & Shake

I told you about my experiences on the local widow-maker. While it is often a scary passage, I sometimes enjoy driving to work on the moto-taxi (when the road is smooth and the wind blows through my hair). By the way, I haven’t had a hair cut since that fateful day in May. I don’t know if I every told you? Kathy had gone shopping, leaving the children with my brother-in-law and me. Well, we played around with the clippers and I ended up with my first “Glatze”. Needless to say, Kathy was not happy when she came home and saw my bald head. It must have made quite and impression on her, since it took her a while to forgive me for what I had done to myself. I noticed that her sentences were rather short for at least a week. Anyway, I really didn’t want to talk about my mane. All this is to say that I am still looking for a proper haircut here in Togo. We haven’t made many friends. So I can’t risk Kathy not talking to me.

Well, back onto the motorcycle that takes me to work. My latest sport has been a game of “Spot & Shake”. During my 12 km ride to and from the office I sometimes see very strange things on the motorcycles. The first unusual thing I’ve noticed on one of those two-stroke devils, was a woman! Call me a chauvinistic pig, but somehow, something didn’t look right. In all my time in Africa, I have never before seen an African lady in skirt and high heels driving a motorcycle. Obviously, I haven’t been to Togo before. Well, now I have and I’m waiting for my first female taxi driver.
As if that was not scary enough, I started to notice all the children on the moto-taxis. Between the driver and the mother at the rear, one can see little ones of all ages. Last week I saw a whole family. The little boy (about 3) was sitting on the fuel tank. Then came the driver, presumably the father, followed by a newborn, which was wedged in between him and the mother at the rear. Can you imagine what would happen if… I don’t even want to think about it.
Because of encounters like this, my soul has developed a protective layer. Now I can only shake my head at the sight of television sets and fridges. Seeing a 50-gallon drum, transported on the head of the passenger, seems to be quite normal. Don’t you do that all the time in Leeds and Philadelphia?
I wish I had a camera each time I spot one of those head-shakers. Last Thursday, while searching a barber (really!), I saw the funniest passengers yet (besides myself). On the motorcycle next to me I saw a real kid! With her legs tied and placed between the driver and the passenger, I spotted a goat the size of a microwave oven. It must have been on its way to a BBQ party. I assume it was the main guest. ;-)

What are the odds?

Yesterday, we decided to “try out” the Baptist church around the corner. We’ve had the “pleasure” of following all the services from our living room. Guess why they call those things LOUD speakers? Anyway, the girls didn’t want to go to an African church, because they think that they last too long, are loud and boring. But we had heard that the service would be in English and French. So, the girls put on their new dresses, and off we went. As the first “yovo” of the day, we were escorted to the front, sort of on display. Of course, it is a sign of honour (but it doesn’t always feel like a perk). After a while I started wrestling with God. So far the service had only been in Ewe (local language) and French, and it was very, very loud. I asked God to help me praise him, because there was nothing conducive to worship for me. I could already see that I was going have to endure this torture, hoping that it wouldn’t take too long.

All in a sudden my whole attitude changed. From one minute to the other I knew that God was in control of my life and that being at this church was no accident. In fact, it was exactly where God wanted us to be. I knew God had heard my prayer.
What had changed? While we were singing, a casually dressed man and boy walked in. As they passed, the man waved. I did a double-take. No, that couldn’t be. It was Amboise, the director of our language school in France. His wife had been Roger’s teacher the first term and our girls, and all of us, became really good friends with them. It was so astonishing. I mean we knew he was originally from Togo and still had family here, but he hadn’t been at home for 12 years and we had no idea that they were coming to visit. It was just too unreal. In a city of around 800,000 with many churches, he walked into the same one we had decided to attend that Sunday! What are the odds.

It gets more amazing. The lady sitting next to me asked, in French of course, what we were all talking so excitedly about among ourselves. I said that the man and his son who had just walked past were friends and we were amazed to see them. She asked me what the man’s name was. I said Teko (family name). She said, “My name is Teko as well, he is my brother.” Was I floored. No wonder he came to this church as his sister and brother-in-law go there, too. They live not far from us. It was all too much. It was hard to concentrate after that.

It was just too much to take in. I said afterward that it’s a small world, but I like better what the sister said, “We have a big God”. It’s too true. “Our God is a great big God. And He holds us in His hand.” (or as Sydney used to sing, “And He holds on Sydney’s hand”)

By the way, another “yovo” couple came in that morning, which also had to sit in the front. He was the guest speaker. He introduced himself as a teacher at a Baptist university in Texas. In fact they came from Marshall, Texas; just 17 miles where I went to high school! Another one of those co-incidences a-la-God!
By the way, the message was in English and French after all.

Something New

We've discovered we can do something new on this site. You'll notice photos that change at the left of the page. It's a collection of photos from our time thus far here in Togo. If you'd like an even larger look just click on the photos and it'll open another window.

Enjoy!