Greetings from Kouve!

I can’t believe I’ve only been here for two weeks… it feels like I’ve never not been here!

I’m writing from the Cyber Café in the village of Kouve, where the Education volunteers are making their home during pre-service training. Kouve is a pretty sizable town (compared to neighboring Zafi, anyway) – my host family tells me several thousand people live here. There are boutiques, bars, and a big market every Thursday.

My home here is  in the district of Kouve called Boli, which is pretty quiet, as far as this town gows. There’s a cement wall with big red doors surrounding my compound. Inside the walls, the ground is covered in Africa’s famous red dirt, and a dozen trees bearing bananas and limes are scattered throughout. There’s a large well from which I draw my big bucket of water every day, and a shower stall where I take my twice-daily bucket baths. We have one large-ish house where my family relaxes and cooks, and another, smaller building where I live.

My building has two rooms. On the left, my host aunt Abla sleeps with her three children (including adorable 2-month-old baby Joseph). My room is next door. It’s a little smaller than the bedroom I had growing up, and has cement floors and bright blue walls. Bedsheets line the ceiling to help keep out bugs and lizards. (These second-hand bedsheets are themed with cats and Harry Potter – how did they know me so well before I even arrived?) I sleep in my Peace Corps issued twin bed, and make sure to tuck in my mosquito net every night. I have a small desk, a little table to store my coffee mug and other food accouterments, and a corner dedicated to my many useful buckets.

Each morning, the sun comes up around 5, and I’m gently woken up by the sounds of sweeping. The red dirt gets everywhere, so a daily pass through the compound with a palm-leaf broom is a necessity. I get out of bed, sweep my own floor, and take a quick shower before eating breakfast al fresco with my sister (cousin? aunt? It all blends together for me here) Odette. Sometimes, we have bread with peanut butter or eggs, but occasionally, she makes beignets (and these Togolese doughnuts are the best I’ve ever eaten).

After breakfast, I hop on my bicycle (Dad – it’s a red Trek 4100!) and pedal to school. Some days, we have French lessons all day. These days, I go to my classmate Danielle’s house, where I spend the day with her, our one other classmate, Zach, and our instructor, Utsa. We do some work in a textbook, but mostly, Utsa just tries to get us talking as much as possible (and, of course, it’s all French all day). I’m nowhere near proficient, but I can feel my French getting better every day.

Other days, we have big group learning sessions. All of the volunteers in Kouve pile into the white Peace Corps van and drive the bumpy road to Zafi, where we join the food security and health volunteers. We spend the day with the Togolese Peace Corps staff in sessions with names like “Roles of the Volunteer in Development” and “Dealing with Unwanted Attention.”

Wherever I am for the day, my family sends me along with a packed lunch. Peace Corps advised our families to ease us in to Togolese food, so I’m still eating a lot of spaghetti and hard-boiled eggs, but I occasionally have pounded corn (called pate) with a sauce made of tomatoes and fish.

After school, I rush home to beat the sunset, which happens promptly at 6:30 every day. I have dinner with Odette, and we are sometimes joined by my host father, Aristide (who is my age), and his brother, Justlan. I could not have asked for a more wonderful host family. Everyone that I interact with (mostly these three people) speaks great French, and are so incredibly patient with my terrible rendition of the language. They are warm, funny, and respectful, and just such a blast to be around. Each night, we spend hours sitting outside and chatting, and it’s often the best part of my day.

All in all, life is good here in Kouve. With so many unkowns ahead (I don't find out where my permanent site is for another few weeks), it's nice to have a routine, and to be surrounded by such great people.