Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Moment of the Week
With secondary school exams going on right beside the music room we have turned the shoe room and area around the music room entrance into a 'whisper area' to cut down on excess noise. This has worked out quite well but I need to remind students of the change on a regular basis. At the end of a class I give out a merit sticker in the whisper area to the person who has done an outstanding job during our music session.
Today one of my kindergarteners (who has spent a fair share of time on the red time out chair this year) received a merit sticker for excellent behavior. He was so ecstatic he did a cute little happy dance and then whispered my name quite loudly. To hear him I moved closer and he gave me a big kiss on the cheek and skipped out the door loudly yelling 'I got a merit sticker and I kissed Ms.K. Today is the happiest day of my life!'
It's moments like this that brighten a dreary and cloudy day.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Culture shock #3
You have a what?
House help. Yes, that is right. We have someone clean, do dishes and laundry.
For us this took some getting used to, but it all goes back to the idea that those with wealth share it.
And while we don't have the money that the "Yovo, Cadeau" guys think we do, we can afford to hire someone to help with the house work.
This is the cultural way to spread wealth: our house help is then able to buy a motorcycle, giving the motorcycle dealer business. She then buys gas, giving the artesianal (re:illegal) fuel sellers some income. She can afford to buy more veggies from the market, support her family, etc.
Those with larger appetites hire cooks, those with children hire nannies.
The wealth spreads. Those who hoard wealth are seen as selfish and ungrateful to the local community.
I'm going back in the village...
One thing we have found that fundamentally shapes the way foreigners are viewed is the idea of the village.
Say a Togolese businessman loses their job, runs out of savings and food. 'Oh, I have to go back to the village,' he will lament.
Losing your job and running out of everything is not the end of the rope as there is always your traditional family home/land in the village. Sure, the once-proud businessman will have to bury his pride with the seeds he'll need to plant, but he still has a tribal network that will take care of him.
I've met quite a few Togolese who draw a similar conclusion about all foreigners. They show up for a few years, then leave. Where do they go? The logical answer must be: their village in America, with homes bigger than the ones we see in those Hollywood films.
This will often lead to the conversation of, 'when you go back to your country, can you take me with you?'
Now, while some expats do have homes, cars and businesses in America, I'm often left explaining that no, we do not have a home or car or village in Canada. So no, we can't take you back to our country because there is nothing there for us and 'our country' is now Togo.
Artesianal fuel & drug
Markets are informal, and that goes beyond the fruit and veggie sector.
Forex's are non-existant in Togo, money is changed at the border by scary looking guys holding thousands of dollars of cash in US, Euro's, Ghanaian Cedis and CFA. The only thing making them less intimidating is the fact that they're also wielding big nerdy 1980's style calculators.
Clothing is also sold roadside, and if you find something you like, just strip on down and try it on! It's a bit unnerving for those of us who are used to carefully guarded change rooms, but no one else blinks twice.
Given the proximity to Nigeria, which subsidizes it's fuel (unlike Togo), an abundance of smuggled fuel is available at discount rates on the roadside.
Unfortunately it is often dirty or watered down, so not necessarily the best to use.
But the trade does drive a large part of the informal economy. From the smugglers who bring it in (usually by boat), to those who warehouse the fuel, the distributers, the street sellers, the tens of thousands who rely on the product as they can't afford to buy from the pumps, etc.
It's a big business.
While we haven't looked into it too much, the street-side sale of expired pharmaceuticals appears to have a large following as well.
House help. Yes, that is right. We have someone clean, do dishes and laundry.
For us this took some getting used to, but it all goes back to the idea that those with wealth share it.
And while we don't have the money that the "Yovo, Cadeau" guys think we do, we can afford to hire someone to help with the house work.
This is the cultural way to spread wealth: our house help is then able to buy a motorcycle, giving the motorcycle dealer business. She then buys gas, giving the artesianal (re:illegal) fuel sellers some income. She can afford to buy more veggies from the market, support her family, etc.
Those with larger appetites hire cooks, those with children hire nannies.
The wealth spreads. Those who hoard wealth are seen as selfish and ungrateful to the local community.
I'm going back in the village...
One thing we have found that fundamentally shapes the way foreigners are viewed is the idea of the village.
Say a Togolese businessman loses their job, runs out of savings and food. 'Oh, I have to go back to the village,' he will lament.
Losing your job and running out of everything is not the end of the rope as there is always your traditional family home/land in the village. Sure, the once-proud businessman will have to bury his pride with the seeds he'll need to plant, but he still has a tribal network that will take care of him.
I've met quite a few Togolese who draw a similar conclusion about all foreigners. They show up for a few years, then leave. Where do they go? The logical answer must be: their village in America, with homes bigger than the ones we see in those Hollywood films.
This will often lead to the conversation of, 'when you go back to your country, can you take me with you?'
Now, while some expats do have homes, cars and businesses in America, I'm often left explaining that no, we do not have a home or car or village in Canada. So no, we can't take you back to our country because there is nothing there for us and 'our country' is now Togo.
Artesianal fuel & drug
Markets are informal, and that goes beyond the fruit and veggie sector.
Forex's are non-existant in Togo, money is changed at the border by scary looking guys holding thousands of dollars of cash in US, Euro's, Ghanaian Cedis and CFA. The only thing making them less intimidating is the fact that they're also wielding big nerdy 1980's style calculators.
Clothing is also sold roadside, and if you find something you like, just strip on down and try it on! It's a bit unnerving for those of us who are used to carefully guarded change rooms, but no one else blinks twice.
Given the proximity to Nigeria, which subsidizes it's fuel (unlike Togo), an abundance of smuggled fuel is available at discount rates on the roadside.
Unfortunately it is often dirty or watered down, so not necessarily the best to use.
But the trade does drive a large part of the informal economy. From the smugglers who bring it in (usually by boat), to those who warehouse the fuel, the distributers, the street sellers, the tens of thousands who rely on the product as they can't afford to buy from the pumps, etc.
It's a big business.
While we haven't looked into it too much, the street-side sale of expired pharmaceuticals appears to have a large following as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)