Totally Togo

Francis and I with cousin Franky, in the village of Sevagan, Togo.

The crossing of borders, motorbike taxis, drinking Togolese beer, defecating into a cement hole, greetings with spiritual readers and sleeping under the stars – for me, this was totally Togo.

Recently I travelled to Togo, alright, it was a while back now (early October, 2011) but life has been just too wonderful and I forgot to post this blog. It was done though, I swear.

For those of you who don't know, Togo - officially the Togolese Republic - is the West African country bordering Ghana to the East. It gained independence from France in 1960 and the official language remains to be French, although the majority of locals communicate in their native languages.

With a population of approximately 6.7 million, Togo is home to over 37 tribes and 99 per cent of its population is of Native African descent. 

The country is highly dependent upon agriculture and is known for being a regional commercial and trade centre. Cocoa, coffee, and cotton generate roughly 40 per cent of export earnings, with cotton being the most important cash crop. Togo is also the world's fourth-largest producer of phosphate.

Although a significant minority can be found of those who practice Christianity and Muslim, the largest religious group in Togo is of those who practice indigenous traditional beliefs, often referred to as traditionalists, making up over 51 per cent of the countries religious status.

As mentioned, in early October 2011 I needed to get out of the city, and so, headed to Togo. It was an approximate four hour drive on public transit (tro-tro) to the Togolese border in Aflao. I purchases my Visa at the border for 60 cedis and literally, walked across into the capital of Togo, Lomé.

I travelled with my partner Francis, whose grandmother is Togolese. Neither of us fluent in French, it definitely helped being with someone who spoke Ewe, one of the many local dialects.

Once in Lomé, we walked the roadsides lined with hawkers, vendors and tables for currency exchange. Our plan was to travel further inland to visit an uncle in the small village of Sevagan, so  we each grabbed a motor-taxi and headed towards the next station to pick a car the rest of the way.

Similar to Northern Ghana, Togo relies heavily on motorbikes as a main means of transportation. There was something exhilarating about sitting on the backside of a stranger's motorbike, driving alongside the Ocean's shoreline deeper into a West African city I had never been to before.

I was loving it.

Once making it to the station, we grabbed a shared taxi and travelled for roughly another two hours. By the time we arrived in the village of Sevagan, the night had grown dark. We made a phone call, were told where to be dropped, and stood at the side of the road looking rather silly. A man soon came and gestured us over, introducing himself as the uncle we were coming to meet.

The size of African families tend to be larger than in North America, sometimes having more than 10-12 siblings. With lack of resources, opportunity and poor communication networks, when family members migrate to larger cities or neighboring countries, it isn't unusual for family members not to meet until later in life, if ever.

This was the case for Francis and his uncle. Our visit to Togo would be their first meeting.

One of my most admirable characteristics of African culture is their relationships. Family is family, and friends are family too. You are always welcome and what you have, you share. Even if you don't have the same mother or father, or aunt or uncle, when someone is in need, you are the same family.

Our uncle greeted us warmly and took us on the back of his motorbike to his house, where we would be staying for the duration of our visit.

As it was late, the family was asleep. We entered the self-contained compound, with no electricity and no running water, and were directed to our room. There was a wardrobe, a window, a clothes line hanging vertically across the room and a straw-stuffed mattress for us to sleep on.

I was still loving it.

At the break of dawn, we woke to the sounds of the roosters. Got up, had our bucket shower and shared the tea, milo and bread we had brought for the family. We ate in a small sitting room and were only joined by the man of the household, while the mother, one of two wives, ate outside with the children. 

As polygamy is common in West Africa, this came as no surprise. 

We spent the morning getting to know the family (with my lack of French and Ewe I really just smiled, held a lot of hands and played with the children) and then it was time for us to explore.

We were given Uncle's motorbike for the day, and after fixing a flat tire within the first two seconds of our journey, we knew it was going to be an adventure!

We drove down red-dirt roads, surrounded by green fields and palm trees. Past hut-homes made of dried clay and crowded village water pumps. We smiled at mothers hand washing their clothes in buckets and waved at the children chasing our bike, laughing while they sang 'Obruni,' or white lady.

We had nearly made it to a nieghbouring village, the village Francis' mother had grown up in, when our tire popped. After pushing the bike to a mechanic to fix popped tire number two, we continued on our way.

 

Spiritual father performing a consultation.

In honour of traditional spirit, we decided to visit the home of a spiritual leader for a consultation on our way the river. Upon our arrival, we were offered water and I was instructed to drink, but “not to much, your stomach might not handle it.”

We presented the spiritual leader with some coins and in return he laid out a bag of ornaments upon his mat on the dirt floor. The ornaments including beads, shells, stones and wood pieces of all shapes and sizes.

He then began chanting to the gods on our behalf. We were each given a token from his clothe and told to hold it tight, and ask a question or think of an issue we would like guidance on. 

We did as we were told, then returned our ornaments to his mat. Rhythmically, the spiritual leader shook a string of beads above the ornaments on the blanket, lightly chanting in Ewe to the Gods. 

He would touch a rock, pick it up and replace it in a different location on his mat. He would run his fingers through the small mound of beads beside him, then blow into a seashell.

Then, in Ewe, would translate to us what the Gods had said to him.

As mentioned, I clearly don't speak Ewe, so Francis would translate the information being passed on to me through the spiritual leader, from the Gods.

It was my first spiritual consultation and I found the process incredible. The spiritual leader was offering insight in connection to the thoughts, questions and concerns I had meditated on while holding my token, or ornament. 

He gave me insight on my family, friends, profession. He discussed with me possibilities of following my passion and what would happen if I chose to stay in Africa. He warned me of things, and people, to be cautious of, shared advise on personal attributes and warned me not to consume groundnuts for the next 16 days.

Although he did not provide a crystal clear, 'yes' or 'no' through the consultation, what he did provide was even greater. He provided wisdom, insight and an opportunity that allowed for spiritual growth and intellectual expansion. 

Togo is the origin of Voodoo, and often people speak about traditionalism as a form of voodoo. Even so, it is not the same as often imagined in the sense of rag dolls and push-pins. It's a spiritual connection to that which is greater than you, and a belief that through concentration and devotion you can communicate with the Gods. 

 

It is seen by people around the world as a dangerous practice, as 'black magic' and witchcraft. Perhaps the only thing frightening about it, is that which is unknown or understood. What we are not custom to and therefor fear.

I left feeling empowered. I was thankful for this new experience and felt I had become a wiser person because of it. It doesn't matter if you believe it or not, if you practice or don't – to me it was the ability to be a part of the experience that made it real. Isn't that the one thing that always does.

After saying our thank yous and goodbyes, Francis and I drove to the nearby river. We turned the corner on our motorbike to the most incredible view. A sandy shore merging into clear water, surrounded by fresh green fields being grazed by a heard of traveling cattle. Children playing in the river on jerrycans while woman hand washed their clothes and the men fished with handcrafted nets.

It was so, so beautiful. 

Children playing amongst jerrycans alongside the riverbank.

The sun began to set and Francis and I set to return home. When we returned we saw the family curled up, laughing together in the yard on straw mats under the cool night sky. We went and grabbed of our own and lay a few yards away enjoying the clear dark blue sky, filled with stars. 

You can't see stars like that in Accra.

I lay still; completely content, completely at peace. I layed staring at the sky for as long as possible, fighting the urge to close my eyes. I wondered how many others were laying with their backs on the ground, admiring the same star filled sky, enjoying the feeling of tranquility and appreciation. 

Thanks universe, I totally love Togo.