When Dante wrote his book Inferno describing the 7 circles of hell I think sometimes he was describing life here in Togo. Okay so not really and I think that previous statement came out offensive so strike that from the record. Anyways, here are my 7 circles of hell starting with circle #1 (or circle #7…what ever is the outer-least “hellish”-circle)
#1 – the yovo song
“yovo, yovo bon soir
Yovo yovo bon soir
Ça va? Tres bien
Il faut donner moi bon bon”*
*or something like that
This song has become the bane of my existence. Normally I don’t mind the song; you learn to tune it out, ignore it, or maybe even sing along to it. But after the 100th time it’s like geez you silly kids, I have a name and you know exactly what it is because I tell you every time. The first words that come out of your mouth do not need to be yovo (“white person” in Ewe) or anasara (Kotokoli) or ansai (Kabiyé). I know exactly what I am; I don’t need you to tell me that I’m a “white” person. Thank you for stating the obvious. Shall I state the obvious…noir(e)? It’s funny because the song really didn’t affect me at all during stâge, but since arriving at post, it has slowly come to annoy me more and more.
#2 – chickens
Chickens, roosters, “noisy, feathery and tasty” pieces of meat, etc. Whatever you call them, I think they are finally getting to me. My compound mate’s rooster never used to bug me this way but then a month ago he decided that the best place to “cock-a-doodle doo” would be right outside my bedroom window, exactly 5 minutes before my alarm is about to go off. Thankfully Marc sold the rooster after it did its job and knocked up two hens. Their several cute black, white and yellow baby chicks were cute for the first three days. Then they decide that it would be fun to replace the “cock-a-doodle-doo”-ing by my window with incessant chirping outside my window just like daddy. Not to mention coming onto my porch with mom and pooping all over my patio, stealing food from my dog and taking a bird bath in my dish-washing basin. I mean seriously, will there ever be peace and quiet in my compound? At least the baby goats give it a rest but there is something about the high-pitched squawking of chickens, reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard that is slowly driving me insane.
If I find 5 more circles, I’ll update the list…
#1 – the yovo song
“yovo, yovo bon soir
Yovo yovo bon soir
Ça va? Tres bien
Il faut donner moi bon bon”*
*or something like that
This song has become the bane of my existence. Normally I don’t mind the song; you learn to tune it out, ignore it, or maybe even sing along to it. But after the 100th time it’s like geez you silly kids, I have a name and you know exactly what it is because I tell you every time. The first words that come out of your mouth do not need to be yovo (“white person” in Ewe) or anasara (Kotokoli) or ansai (Kabiyé). I know exactly what I am; I don’t need you to tell me that I’m a “white” person. Thank you for stating the obvious. Shall I state the obvious…noir(e)? It’s funny because the song really didn’t affect me at all during stâge, but since arriving at post, it has slowly come to annoy me more and more.
#2 – chickens
Chickens, roosters, “noisy, feathery and tasty” pieces of meat, etc. Whatever you call them, I think they are finally getting to me. My compound mate’s rooster never used to bug me this way but then a month ago he decided that the best place to “cock-a-doodle doo” would be right outside my bedroom window, exactly 5 minutes before my alarm is about to go off. Thankfully Marc sold the rooster after it did its job and knocked up two hens. Their several cute black, white and yellow baby chicks were cute for the first three days. Then they decide that it would be fun to replace the “cock-a-doodle-doo”-ing by my window with incessant chirping outside my window just like daddy. Not to mention coming onto my porch with mom and pooping all over my patio, stealing food from my dog and taking a bird bath in my dish-washing basin. I mean seriously, will there ever be peace and quiet in my compound? At least the baby goats give it a rest but there is something about the high-pitched squawking of chickens, reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard that is slowly driving me insane.
If I find 5 more circles, I’ll update the list…
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