When we lived in Canada, there were a few things that we really did take for granted...
Kraft creamy peanut butter. We brought along one jar but we have already used a third of it. I know this type of peanut butter is all fake and mostly made of sugars and additives but it is my favorite type of peanut butter. Here one can get all natural peanut butter but I don't really like nuts and natural peanut butter is really really nutty and crunchy. With time perhaps I will adjust.
The first dusting of snow. I don't like cold and I really don't like winter but there is something magical with the first sprinkle of snow on the ground. Looking out in the winter to see the hills covered in white. Here the closest we get to having something resemble that first snowfall happens when we do not dust the house for 3 days.
Fast internet. Here Internet is slow. Painfully slow. pages with flash or many pictures take a long long time to load. There is slow internet or even slower internet here. We are grateful to have internet but should we ever have faster internet again, I hope I never complain about having Internet that takes less then five minutes to load Facebook.
Road rules. Some people may think traffic rules are in place only to irritate drivers. I would invite those people to come to Togo to see what happens when there are no real rules on the road. Turning signals are optional and can mean a variety of different things such as 'it is safe to pass, or don't pass me.' Usually you can stay safe if you remember the crucial rule: 'he who drives the largest vehicle will always win.' That and not all taxis are safe and their drivers aren't always sober. Even in the middle of the afternoon.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Two detentions for the price of one
Homework detention is something that I don't have to deal with too frequently because I give very little homework to students. In fact, my middle school students have only had to do one small homework assignment and one project for music this entire term. So what happens if students do not hand in their homework? Well...they get a homework detention.
Homework detentions happen at lunch to give the student extra time to work on the homework that was due. So I usually assume if students haven't handed their homework it can only mean they want to spend their lunch hour with me. A few weeks ago one student didn't want to spend lunch with me, so he told me he was Muslim student and had to go to the school mosque for Friday prayers. Since this must have been a recent conversion (he had never said anything about it previously and his friends seemed as surprised at this announcement as I was) I decided to wait outside the school gate on the street near a few parked cars to keep an eye on the mosque. When students came out of the mosque and he didn't show up, I knew we had a problem and I began trying to figure out what my next step of action would be. When one of his friends yelled from across the school yard 'why are you hiding behind that car?' and the offending student took off running down the street, I knew this was a huge problem. Unfortunately for him (very fortunate for me as this happened within 2 seconds of the student sprinting full speed) his 6 ft something tall and football built form tutor (form tutors are similar to homeroom teachers here) was walking up that very street. The football built form tutor yelled out the offenders name so loudly that even the birds stopped singing out of fear. After a harsh talking to from the tutor, the student followed me to detention with his head hung low in despair. Not only did he get detention with me for the remainder of lunch, he also had to serve another one after school with his form tutor because of his actions.
Homework detentions happen at lunch to give the student extra time to work on the homework that was due. So I usually assume if students haven't handed their homework it can only mean they want to spend their lunch hour with me. A few weeks ago one student didn't want to spend lunch with me, so he told me he was Muslim student and had to go to the school mosque for Friday prayers. Since this must have been a recent conversion (he had never said anything about it previously and his friends seemed as surprised at this announcement as I was) I decided to wait outside the school gate on the street near a few parked cars to keep an eye on the mosque. When students came out of the mosque and he didn't show up, I knew we had a problem and I began trying to figure out what my next step of action would be. When one of his friends yelled from across the school yard 'why are you hiding behind that car?' and the offending student took off running down the street, I knew this was a huge problem. Unfortunately for him (very fortunate for me as this happened within 2 seconds of the student sprinting full speed) his 6 ft something tall and football built form tutor (form tutors are similar to homeroom teachers here) was walking up that very street. The football built form tutor yelled out the offenders name so loudly that even the birds stopped singing out of fear. After a harsh talking to from the tutor, the student followed me to detention with his head hung low in despair. Not only did he get detention with me for the remainder of lunch, he also had to serve another one after school with his form tutor because of his actions.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
TP
Part of N's agreement with her school is that they provide housing. Very, very, nice, impressive housing. But just like all houses, things break or need repairing. The school takes care of all the maintenance at all 25+ of their houses and we must fill out 'work order request forms' whenever something needs repairing. And then wait.
Ever since we moved to this house, there has been a long list of things that need doing due to the previous tenant's lifestyle. Screens for the doors. Doors that actually close. Cupboards. Cupboards that don't fall over as soon as you put something in them.
The list has been getting shorter much quicker than we expected, but one thing that has been neglected is the toilet paper holder. I never knew how much I missed a simple fixture that holds a roll of chaffing, itch-inducing poorly recycled paper (now including bits of plastic for your wiping pleasure!)
After over a month of asking, one of the school's repairmen came over, and five minutes later, we finally had a toilet paper holder!!! No more twisting around, trying to find where it has rolled behind the toilet, only to find that the ants and cockroaches found it first...
Hopefully this month we can resolve the dozen dead power outlets, the bedroom door that won't stay shut, and maybe find a shower hose that doesn't leak all over the bathroom floor (leaving you ironically dry).
Ever since we moved to this house, there has been a long list of things that need doing due to the previous tenant's lifestyle. Screens for the doors. Doors that actually close. Cupboards. Cupboards that don't fall over as soon as you put something in them.
The list has been getting shorter much quicker than we expected, but one thing that has been neglected is the toilet paper holder. I never knew how much I missed a simple fixture that holds a roll of chaffing, itch-inducing poorly recycled paper (now including bits of plastic for your wiping pleasure!)
After over a month of asking, one of the school's repairmen came over, and five minutes later, we finally had a toilet paper holder!!! No more twisting around, trying to find where it has rolled behind the toilet, only to find that the ants and cockroaches found it first...
Hopefully this month we can resolve the dozen dead power outlets, the bedroom door that won't stay shut, and maybe find a shower hose that doesn't leak all over the bathroom floor (leaving you ironically dry).
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Two wheels or four?
As many of you know, we packed along two motorcycle helmets in our luggage. We planned on purchasing a motorcycle to zip around town on. When required, the thought was D could use it when off on assignment as well. Small, cheap, blend in with the crowd, good on gas, easy to fix -- what could be wrong with that?
But our plans have since changed. We are now looking for a car -- here's why:
While vacationing in Benin, we got caught in a sudden torrential downpour. (Trees across the roads-wind pushing the rain sideways-roads turning into rivers-can't see five feet in front of my face rain.) Thankfully we were in a vehicle. Watching motorcyclists scramble like drowning rats for any semblance of shelter planted the first notion that perhaps a motorcycle might limit our travels.
About a week later, we had some shopping to do in downtown Lomé, so we hailed a cab here in 'la Caisse' (literally, 'the cashbox' -- an affectionate nickname for our neighbourhood.) Within two minutes we had veered into oncoming traffic a few times, nearly side-swiped some very expensive SUV's and almost taken off a few motorcyclists' legs.
Turns out our taxi driver was not only drunk out of his gourd, but one of his front wheels was about to fall off. We calmly asked him to pull over at the earliest opportunity. As we tried in vain to hail another cab, two thoughts crept into our minds. Firstly, not all taxi drivers (or their cabs) are reliable. Secondly, I wouldn't want to be a motorcyclist when that cabbie is still on the loose.
Eventually we made it to the Grande Marche, finished our shopping and caught a cab back to 'la Caisse.' The drive was uneventful, until we came up to the entrance to the neighbourhood. A car had struck several motorcyclists -- injured people laying on the ground, motorcycle bits strewn across the roadway, etc.
Before that horrifying scene had a chance to sink in, a clap of thunder and a smattering of rain reminded us to hurry the last block home.
We didn't make it. Just as in Benin, the rain which we thought was at least 15 minutes away was upon us in a flash. Crazy downpour. Again. Now we were the absolutely soaked rats.
As we stood on the flooded street, trying not to think of all the goodies mixed in the rain water swirling at our ankles and over D's nice Josef Siebel sandals, the last nail struck Mr. Motorcycle's coffin.
And now, the search for a car begins...
The street after the five minutes of rain that changed our mind.
But our plans have since changed. We are now looking for a car -- here's why:
While vacationing in Benin, we got caught in a sudden torrential downpour. (Trees across the roads-wind pushing the rain sideways-roads turning into rivers-can't see five feet in front of my face rain.) Thankfully we were in a vehicle. Watching motorcyclists scramble like drowning rats for any semblance of shelter planted the first notion that perhaps a motorcycle might limit our travels.
About a week later, we had some shopping to do in downtown Lomé, so we hailed a cab here in 'la Caisse' (literally, 'the cashbox' -- an affectionate nickname for our neighbourhood.) Within two minutes we had veered into oncoming traffic a few times, nearly side-swiped some very expensive SUV's and almost taken off a few motorcyclists' legs.
Turns out our taxi driver was not only drunk out of his gourd, but one of his front wheels was about to fall off. We calmly asked him to pull over at the earliest opportunity. As we tried in vain to hail another cab, two thoughts crept into our minds. Firstly, not all taxi drivers (or their cabs) are reliable. Secondly, I wouldn't want to be a motorcyclist when that cabbie is still on the loose.
Eventually we made it to the Grande Marche, finished our shopping and caught a cab back to 'la Caisse.' The drive was uneventful, until we came up to the entrance to the neighbourhood. A car had struck several motorcyclists -- injured people laying on the ground, motorcycle bits strewn across the roadway, etc.
Before that horrifying scene had a chance to sink in, a clap of thunder and a smattering of rain reminded us to hurry the last block home.
We didn't make it. Just as in Benin, the rain which we thought was at least 15 minutes away was upon us in a flash. Crazy downpour. Again. Now we were the absolutely soaked rats.
As we stood on the flooded street, trying not to think of all the goodies mixed in the rain water swirling at our ankles and over D's nice Josef Siebel sandals, the last nail struck Mr. Motorcycle's coffin.
And now, the search for a car begins...
The street after the five minutes of rain that changed our mind.
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