Togo means the other side of the river. Following Germany's defeat in World War I, the country was divided into two territories, one British and the other French. When the French part officially gained its independence under a dictator on April 22, 1960, its complete name became the Togolese Republic. (Independence was declared in 1958 but was postponed for two years due to a lack of infrastructure.) The official language is French because "we suffered under the French colonization" according to Joseph, the major religion is Voodoo, coconuts have replaced slaves as the major export, June 1 is the day that every citizen is to plant a tree, the annual per capita income is less than $500, the Fetish market is a traditional drug store, the rate of HIV-AIDs is between 20 and 30 percent, smoked fish is eaten almost everyday, and chewing sticks made from the alome tree are the basis for the capital's name of Lome.
Both our guides on this tour sponsored by the ship through Alba Travel Services had college degrees in literature so they could speak English, qualifying them to be teachers or tour guides. The unemployment rate is through the roof, and the competition for jobs is fierce. Kamal pointed out the large number of motorcycles that provide the fastest transportation and are often driven by people with college education who cannot find jobs in their field and are earning their livings by transporting customers on their motorcycles. The best way to make ends meet is to open a business. The first thing people do when they get a job in Togo is to acquire a loan and start to build a house because not owning a house is a shame. The house is built bit by bit as the owners acquire the money necessary to complete the project. Everyone seems to own or rent a space for a garden.
We passed a memorial depicting a white woman and a black woman holding hands to symbolize the friendship between whites and blacks. Our guide informed us that women have been very fierce in the fighting for the country. The first village where we stopped outside of Lome was Aqraba (???) where the chief welcomed us with libations by pouring water on the ground to let us know we should make this place our home. Having your photograph taken with the chief was an option. Then we walked to the wooden home of the Dutch slave trader and saw where the slaves had to squat in the lower level until the trader had the number desired to send on a ship abroad.
Then we went to the Fisherman's Village to witness the temporary housing that the families build from anything available from nature. The residents have better houses in their hometowns but they use these "informal" shelters while the fisherman go out to sea for a week or two at a time. These residents believe in polygamy because they need many hands available to do their business. Weaving the nets by hand and fishing are very hard work. We noted that the water in the lagoon had a yellowish cast because of the phosphates.
Our next stop was the village of Glidji to meet the priests who are the traditional healers. Every year in September, the village raises a stone to mark the new year for the people. The color of the stone symbolized the message for the new year: green for a rich harvest, red for hardship, white for peace and blue for flooding. The stone was whitish so the village should be peaceful. The priests and priestesses are selected by the gods. with Mama Koley being the queen of them all. The symbol of the eye meant the gods were watching us and would chase away evil spirits. The people believe that are gods are near us and their ancestors are never far from us. The cemetery was next to the village. While visitors were required to remove their shoes on the holy ground, we were permitted to keep ours on. Out guides told us that while the cities are for everyone, the village that is a person's hometown is only for them.
Our driver kept going into the country where we finally came to the Village of Wonders and Miracles where we would experience the Zangebeto Dance of the Night Watch Men. Our guides informed us that if we were lucky, we would see wonders. The man dressed in red was the chief commander of the entire ceremony. Once we were all seated along the sides of an open area, the native children came up behind us to watch with their wide eyes of wonder. (They already had an idea of what they would witness. We had no idea of what wonders we should expect.) They all seemed healthy and had good teeth. They were so cute!
The ceremony started with traditional dancers. Then these whirling haystacks of turquoise, magenta and gold straw entered and began twirling. The final bundle of gold straw straw, which wore a mask underneath its cranberry and turquoise straw hair. wiggled and shook to the beat. These haystacks could have been Africa's version of the roomba sweepers lifting up the leaves, twigs and sand. Men who acted as handlers for the haystacks lifted up the bundles or tipped them over to show the mesmerized viewers that there were little motorized statues underneath or nothing at all. Under the magenta stack was a miniature magenta stack that stood upright and then slumped down. The natives watered the tiny bundle so it would grow. Then the handlers placed the bundles in upright position so the haystacks could whirl around and walk back to the staging area. The children surrounded the bundles that started to chase them, scaring the children away. This was part of the voodoo ceremony. All this time, the handlers talked to the haystacks as if giving them directions. If one believes in spirits, the bundles may have been moved by ancestors of the residents, who were never far from their living relatives.
When the program was over and we started to board the bus, one passenger gave his empty water bottle to a delighted child. The children indicated that they wanted more so we began gathering the bottles and passing them to our guides to hand to the children. What started out as fun quickly turned ugly when the children started to fight over them and grab them out of each others' hands. Our guides yelled to the driver to flee the area quickly. It is difficult for us who have so much to understand the lives of those who have so little. We wanted to do what we could to make them happy but had no idea what the consequences of our actions could mean.
The form of voodoo that we had seen had been very mild according to what the ship tours had warned us. Our guides told us that extreme voodoo ceremonies often put people into a trance that may take one to two hours depending on the message that the voodoo ceremony wants to get across. We were still looking for the sacrifices of live chickens and goats. Our guide also informed us that security in the villages was not accomplished by police but by voodoo.
Other interesting things that we learned included that the children in the villages not only belong to their parents but also to the relatives in the family and then to the community at large. Children are named after the day of the week on which they are born and also may be named after an important event. When the baby is to be named, the eldest auntie carrys it across the floor while water is poured from the roof. The baby is told that struggles would be in life but that so would love.
We had a buffet lunch for which "you do not have to pay," at a beach resort and were entertained by a folkloric show that boasted new dances. Sara and some friends walked across the road to what Sara proclaimed was a "shopping emporium" where she could not stop buying African made products. Actually, it was only one vendor's stall. On our way back to the ship, we stopped at an arts and crafts market where Ginger advised Sara to purchase a batik T-shirt. Ken could not believe that she had spent that much for a T-shirt but Sara stated that her new fashion consultant had made her buy it. She gave the T-shirt to her graduate school roommate and maid of honor, Betsy.
The only negative aspect of the day was when we arrived back at the gate to the port, and one of the policemen at the gate thought that a passenger on our bus had take a picture of him. The guard on our bus told the policeman that she had no such picture on her camera but that did not stop the policeman from marching her and her camera off the bus to the guard station and then satisfying himself that she had not take a photograph. When she was back on board, our guides asked us to forgive the policemen because they are not highly educated. For a country that promotes tourism, it should train its police officers how to behave.
But we could not let a minor incident ruin our trip (except for the woman marched off the bus). Everything considered, our day was one of wonder and miracles!
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