So I totally spaced writing about one of the best things that happened to me this past week. It was quite possibly the most defining day in my six months here.
As it happened, last Tuesday morning started out like any other. I showed up to school at 7h05, took a quick note of the unfinished homework from the day before, taught my lesson, and went promptly to the cafeteria at 8h to ease my hunger pains. I found out that the bishop wasn’t eating breakfast that morning and for some strange reason the devil woman didn’t eat with the rest of the community a half an hour earlier. That left the two of us to eat together in silence. As usual I let her take her bread and share of eggs first, and then something strange happened. I spoke. I asked if she was finished with the eggs before I took them. She shook her head. So I thought, come on I took the step meet me halfway, even a harsh yes would’ve been better than a shake of the head, which didn’t even answer the question as the action meant she didn’t want anymore. I rephrased the question so that “no” meant that I could have the rest of the eggs, heck I probably could have asked her if she was from earth and I still would have gotten the same shake of the head response.
In any case, I ate my portion of eggs with the ever-looming hotelier (Eugene) in the background constantly peering in to see if I had finished and if there were any scraps left that he could scarf down. I can’t stand it when he does that. Every day, he comes in and asks if I am finished with the hot water and tray of condiments so that he can clear them and go on to do more important things, as if he has more pressing things to do. His job at the monastery is to look after the guests, hence hotelier. Not that I abuse that, hell I even offered on multiple occasions to clear everything so that I could sit in peace for a little while, but for some reason or another that one never manifested. The woman meanwhile, washed her bowl while leaving her full loaf egg sandwich on the table to be taken back to her room.
So far so good, but it was then that I shook the bottle. Generally I wash my breakfast dishes. From the start Colin and I, with the exception of our learning curve period, washed our own dishes and most of the communities’ breakfast dishes (cookware included). But when I am pressed, for school or work, I neatly stack them and leave them with the rest of the breakfast dishes. No problem whatsoever with it, in fact I am told to do it by the people who know my work around the community. Well on this particular Tuesday, I left my dishes (which consist of a bowl, a spoon, a knife, and a plate – none of which are very dirty as I have tea and bread with an occasional egg). I stacked them neatly with platter used for the eggs, wiped off my seat, and went to the garden.
Here it comes, I heard the woman about five minutes later saying, “(translated for your convenience) He is down at his friend’s place (aka, I was working in the garden).” Then I heard Eugene. I turned around from my daily survey of what needed to be done and saw him by a window. He yelled down in a condescending and aggravated voice, “You forgot to wash your dishes!” Replying and toying at the same time, “What dishes?” I gave it a second and went again, “Nope I didn’t forget, but you mean bowl, spoon, knife, and plate; right? I guess I can go back and wash those.” He took the bait. “And the egg platter?” Time to go off…”Oh, that’s my responsibility?” His response, get ready for this cause it literally almost had me doubled over in laughter, “You were the last one to use it.” Come on, are you freaking kidding me?! I haven’t heard that one since 4th grade or maybe an infrequent sibling squabble. With a huge grin on my face I calmly said, “I have to teach and because I am doing so while everyone else is eating I am predispositioned to clean up after them? I guess in the future I can just be sure to run to the kitchen, be the first one to take the food, take the best pieces of food, and let the other person there clean up after me!” That one did it, the cork came flying out of the bottle. The woman was standing next to him, but out of site hoping to witness me getting a verbal lashing for not cleaning up after myself. Nope, she went off on that last comment like a nuclear explosion. Eugene even started to laugh, more so out of nervousness as she was threatening a lot of things and finished her little tirade with “…NO, in that case I am going to go back to Lomé.” I was thinking ‘DIEU MERCI!’ but something inside of me prevented it from coming out as that would have sealed the deal and also could have had some negative ramifications (although most of the people who heard the rant were thinking the same thing). I turned around and went back to work, feeling smug about my position for reasons that will soon become evident.
Blaise came out to the garden not a minute later with an even bigger smile than I had at the time. He all, but congratulated me on the little ‘victory.’ Little it was, and I knew it. I stood up against being coerced to act differently than I wanted to, differently than what should be done – not because I thought it was best, but because it was right. As I have realized in my time here, it is not the people as much as it is the mentality of the community that takes the biggest effect in situations like this.
Time for the background, which should clear up a few things about this story. The night before at supper there were only seven people total eating in the kitchen. Two monks were sitting in their assigned places at the 3rd table, but were told to move up to the 2nd so that only two tables had to be served. One did, one didn’t. The one who didn’t was the one who was previously excommunicated, but later conditionally readmitted to the community. He rattled off a few statements to the sub-prior as to why he would not move. They were all horrible arguments and everyone knew it. It was wrong of him to publicly defy his superior like that, but what was worse in my mind was that Eugene started laughing at him. Maybe I have a soft spot for people in that position because I have been there before, but self-serving laughter at someone who is visibly defeated is degrading and distasteful. Throwing salt in the wound and making sure that it stays there if you will. It was not reprimanded or stopped. I was furious, but bit my tongue from lashing out at him. If Africa has taught me another thing, it’s patience. There is a time and a place for everything, but this wasn’t the time for me to fight even though I was ready.
Next, as far back as I can remember here (which is a long ways) I have made it very clear that breakfast is by far the most important meal for me. I can eat anything save slimy sauces for the other meals, but I need a good, strong breakfast. With that said, it was great up until Eugene became the hotelier. For whatever reason the breakfasts have declined drastically to the point where some days I am told that there is luke-warm water and yams if I would like them. Nope, not gonna take it. On top of it, I am a fast eater. Get in, get it in you, get on with life. So when I say that he rushes me to eat faster so that he can clear the table, you know that I am being rushed and subsequently left to clean up whatever happens to get left behind. Occasionally I obliged, but not any more. On top of it all, I have already described the woman who is back again for whatever reason (vacation I think). But she does not work. She sits in her room or around some of the monks who are doing minor chores, or she goes on walks. Yes, I understand you are sick. Get over it, you’re not dead and I have no pity for you – btw wash your own darn egg platter and the next time someone tries to throw a hand out the least you could do is have the decency to give a verbal response. Also a few days before any of these events took place, I quietly mounted a revolution against the poor breakfasts by buying my own bread and eggs and making my own mid-morning ‘snack,’ which I am allowed to do, but it starts the behind-the-back chatter. I’ll take it over the chatter I get from my stomach and malnourished muscles.
Moving on. Later that same day, after hauling downed trees from the garden to the kitchen (by myself mind you, while visibly seeing a few people napping), I asked Eugene if there was any hot water in the kitchen (as there generally is for anyone who needs it, I take a cup of it with a spoonful of honey for health and energy in the afternoon). He said sorry, but all of it was given to someone who was sick (code for the woman). He went back to his conversation with the other person who was there hoping that I would disappear. I thought, no worries, I’ve got matches and hauled enough wood to make a bonfire the size of a small hut. Prosper, the LB, saw me walking away without the water and asked why I didn’t have it. I explained that I was going to get some matches and he generously helped me make a fire in front of Eugene. The LB has turned a corner of late and while still big and clumsy, he is a genuinely nice person. Eugene then had the nerve to tell me that when I had finished that I should prepare the water for the evening meal. And later that night he asked me to charge his new phone while I was in Kara. I don’t know why I obliged to both, willingly. That is a lie. I know all to well why; I can dance and I know it. I can play the political game as well as anybody and better than some. All it takes is hard work and integrity. You can’t argue with someone who has given you results and has shown you the honesty with which those results have been obtained. It is a large part of why nothing more came from the early morning encounter. If he takes that to anyone, he looks lazy for not washing a plate that he is technically responsible for. And the other monks would rather see me continuing my work than washing dishes. He has no ground to stand on and he knows it and he knows that I know it.
Time for the vindication part to come it. I had a beer with Ezekiel that night in Kara. We shot the breeze for a little while before he brought up some issues about the school and the large problems that it was facing. I gave my 2 cents, saw an opening, seized the opportunity, and hit a home run. Time will tell if it was in the 1st or 9th inning of game 1 or game 7. But I pulled the problems of the school into the mentality around the monastery. Game over. I pulled out every single meaningful argument that I could muster that was backed by verifiable events and data. This was the talk that I had been waiting for, the talk that the program needed to have in order for it to function here, the talk that only someone on the outside and not bound by the traditional rules of monastic life could have had. And I felt liberated. My small sufferings and trials over the past 6 months finally paid off, not completely, but it’s a start.
The person who needed to hear it heard it and what was surprising is that he knew most of it. He was waiting for me to say it, before acting on it. From within the community a position can seem self-serving, but from someone who has nothing to gain from any potential change – it’s the unbiased opinion that is very difficult to come by in a closed community.
And now, it is back to the grindstone for a few days before a nice little day trip to a safari in Benin (yes, Tony I will watch out for the lions) and then in two week’s time - Nairobi, Kenya.
My experience in Togo is now winding down for the near future. I don’t want to be here for the changes, some of which I already know about, and I absolutely refuse to be here for. I will visit again in a few years time to see how time has affected the course of this community and the people that it affects. Hopefully it will be changed for the better and I think it will be, I know it will be.
Boom, Roasted.
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