Harassment

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice
at the end of the day that says “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
~Mary Anne Radmacher

Okay, so being a “Yovo” (white) in Togo automatically makes me stand out. It’s almost the equivalent to seeing a woman walking down the street in the U.S. wearing a burka or maybe a clown costume. Not only do people here stare and do a double take when they see me, they shout out things or occasionally approach me to try and stop me while I am walking down the road. I try not to be too bothered by this, and just ignore them and keep moving. I’ve only once had to defend myself by smacking a man with my water bottle because he came at me and grabbed me hard by my arms. Usually people just shout things at me.

Here are some typical comments: 

•  "Whitey! Whitey!"
• "Hello my sister"
• "You are pretty to have"
• "You must give me something/100cfa"
•  "Hello my angel, how are you?"
• "I am hungry, you must give me money"
• "Where are you going?"
• "tsssss tsssss......tsssssss....tssssssss.......HEY, HEY!"
• "Yovo, come see"
• kissing, squeaky sound

I don't mean to complain or whine here. I just want to explain what it's like to be white living in a big Togolese city. I don't have trouble ignoring things the little kids say, since they are so innocent, just doing what they see the other kids doing. It's the adults who bug me the most, because it seems like they should be old enough to know better, mature enough to show some restraint, or manners, or at least empathy.  I mean, I would NEVER call out "Hey Asian/red-head/black/fatty, etc." across the street to get someone's attention. I guess different cultures have different ideas about what is and is not rude.

These episodes make me feel everything from annoyed, to scared, to ANGRY. I try to remind myself to find the courage and patience to see beyond it, and feel compassion for the people harassing me. Yes, I am white and American. I grew up having more than they will probably ever have. I am only here in Togo for two years, and then I will return to the pristine, shiny United States, and they will still be here in Togo. I can understand possible feelings of resentment towards me, but I can't accept it as a valid excuse for this poor behavior.

On my bad days I just want to scream back at these people, and I admit I have lost my temper a few times. On my good days I try to remember that before forming an opinion about someone or passing judgment on them, we should think about what it would be like to live in their shoes, or in this case, flip flops.

The Daily Grind

  "We cannot do everything in Africa,

but doing nothing is not an option."

                                                                ~Lee H. Hamilton

My main job as an English and Gender Education Volunteer in Togo is teaching English. I teach four days a week this year, Monday-Thursday. The level of my class is equivalent to 7th or 8th grade back in America, but, most of my students are older than the typical 7th or 8th grader in the U.S. Failing a grade and having to repeat 1-2 times is not unusual here; it is quite common. This means that in middle school there are many students in their mid to late teens.

  

Last year I only had 17 students and this year I have 53. Last year I was able to learn names pretty quickly, but this year is a little more challenging. It’s not more difficult just because I have more students, but also because many of my students like to be called by their last name, and 29 of my students have last names that start with an “A” and sound very similar.

Overall, I have come to love teaching, and the time I spend in the classroom is really the highlight of my day. However, it’s not all BLISS.  Some days are really hard. About half my students are very motivated, pay attention, take notes, and do their homework. The other half don’t do much and only take down notes if I hover over them like a hawk, which is no fun. These students are the older students in my class, kids who have failed many times and really have no interest in school. They sit in the back and make fun of my American accent. They are constantly chatting and 15 of them have never done one single homework assignment all year. Maybe when they have to show their report card to their parents at the end of the trimester they will clean up their act, but probably not.  

In the meantime, my good students lift my spirits. From time to time they have said to me during class “Just leave them and keep going,” (Referring to the students in the back who are talking and not paying attention). When I see these students doing well and getting 100% on quizzes, I know I must be doing something right and that the lessons seem to be sinking in. It is so gratifying to see those who are eager to learn, willing to listen, trying so hard to learn English, which is their THIRD language, after Ewe and French!

I suppose no matter where you teach, you are going to find students who are more motivated and less motivated. That’s not too surprising. Then there are cultural differences: Differences in the value placed on education, different family dynamics, children who quit school to work, different laws about educational requirements, lack of vision to see how education could change in their lives….. Part of my daily grind is to try to keep the hope alive that I might in some small way be making a difference in these students’ lives. Once I had a young girl tell me that she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, because I was the first woman teacher she had ever known. I’m not moving mountains, but hey, it’s a start.