Oh Togo, Home Again

The electric atmosphere and energy in Africa surrounding the 2010 World Cup is contagious…more liveliness than usual crowds hotel lobbies and shops and cafés with small, staticky televisions. When an African team is playing, I would be willing to bet money on the fact that all eyes in the country are glued to the screen, filled with pride and anticipation. When you step outside, you can hear the buzzing of the recognizable horns from the stadiums in South Africa floating out of windows and open doors. Visiting my friends, everyone has a fingered piece of paper printed from the Cyber Café with the Cup’s schedule, on which they keep track of the scores of every match. The most exciting thus far has been the Cote d’Ivoire vs. Brasil match, in which, despite high hopes, Cote d’Ivoire and Africa’s star Drogba, lost the match in the tense and aggressive final minutes.

Our first weekend in Kpalimé, was spent with Aminou, head of one of our 2 groups of solar technicians, and by far the most enthusiastic. Often times it is almost painful to hear how much rides on the success of this project when looking into Aminou’s fatigued eyes, as he tells us “SunPower Afrique et l’Energie Solaire est mon avenir, depuis votre arrive je n’ai pas dormi” (“SunPower Afrique and solar energy are my future, since you have arrived I have not slept.”) No pressure…

Aminou took us to visit the installation that I had previously seen in the village of Agou-Akplolo, where we gave him a hydrometer and voltage meter we had brought with us, not to miss a training opportunity! Ron explained to Aminou and the boy who had been maintaining the batteries, how the system worked and how to maintain the batteries – neither of which were as understood as one would imagine they would have been, having been installed and maintained by the 2…Ron and Jon asked a lot of questions, both soaking in the methods of installation used as well as the level of true comprehension and knowledge. This has been one of the most interesting elements of our training –current methods vs. correct methods (often maintaining a very fine line in between and even more often, subject to interpretation); those who have already completed an electrical apprenticeship vs. those who have graduated from middle school; those who are and will always be laborers vs. the hidden minds of future engineers.

Piling back into the taxi, we continued further into the bush…stopping in a tiny, tiny village outside of Agou. No more than a handful of huts and sandy passages, a church and a massive Baobob tree, it was peaceful and quiet. Supposedly there was a solar system here…

A young boy (I can never tell the ages of Togolese children, since as a result of childhood malnutrition a 7 year old often looks like he is 4 and a 14 year old like he is only 9 or 10) silently led us to the Chef of the village to announce our arrival and ask for the whereabouts of the solar installation. Sitting in an aged wooden recliner, an ancient radio communicating in Ewe, and one inflamed foot propped up on a pile of sand, the village elder greeted us and pointed, instructing the young boy to take us to our destination. Few spoke French, as is often the case in rural villages, and I proudly showed off my growing vocabulary of my favorite vernacular :)

We arrived at a crumbling mud hut and looked anticlimactically at a rusting 25Watt (tiny) module atop a shockingly sturdy steel pole. Corroded wiring led to a charge controller long occupied by spiders, and then on to an empty battery box.

An old man came up to us and asked, in French, whether we were going to fix the solar. He continued, there is no electricity for kilometers, all of the surrounding schoolchildren would come here when we had light, and would gather around it to learn. Was this a TV commercial?? Like the “classic” African child with flies stuck to his tears, hands outstretched for a grain of rice? How could we refuse to return and repair what other yovos had long forgotten? We decided to use our precious extra PV module for this village, and promised to do our absolute best to return with it, along with a new charge controller and battery (which we will purchase in Lomé).

Returning to Kpalimé in the late afternoon we went to check on ourTeak, which we will be using as our module racking for FECECAV’s solar system. My dear friend Chantal enlisted her father, who is a wood sculptor and carpenter, to prepare 6foot lengths of the locally grown, durable wood. I had called and “placed the order” over a month ago. Upon our arrival, after several minutes of jubilant bouncing and shouts of “Kila! Kila!”from Chantal’s youngest son Eli, we arrived at a pile of 3 foot lengths of teak. Woops.

After about 25 minutes of back and forth, transfering of blame, me trying to calm Jon’s frustration and the ensuing offense taken by the opposite side, we reached an understanding and Papa Chantal planned to head of into the bush the following day to cut down a giant teak tree to meet our needs.

As I write this blog I think about the different way it would be written by Jon or Ron, experiencing the rusted out taxis with battered windshields and no seatbelts, elephant grass lined trails in the bush and shouts of yovo-yovo for the first or second time. I love the fact that while je suis habituée with it all, I still appreciate it. Everything. Every time. Every time I fall in love with Togo all over again.

Most nights Jon and Ron stay at Petite Suisse, where they have become prized visitors (I am old news by now) and, almost to the point of annoyance, are obsessed over as “Mister Jon” and “Mister Ron” (spoken with the notorious rolling “R” – Misterrrr Rrrron), and I go out to see my friends, loving every minute of the familiarity of being independent in Kpalimé and spending time with the group of people that have become my life here. Things are somewhat different now, but as is the case with nearly everything here, so much remains the same…

Walking home last night, the song “Uptown Girl,” blared out of a small bar on the side of the road. “Uptown girrrlll…livin in her white girrrl worrrllllld” it crackled out into the night. I did a double take as the lyrics took effect, laughed to myself and hissed at a taxi moto to take me back to Petite Suisse.