Home

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I feel like I can better describe my home to you now.
Home turf starts, after a long trip’s end and the deposition of myself from the taxi, at the carre-four between the goudron to Lokossa and the terre-rouge to Athieme. I am greeted by about ten zemidjan men, with twenty more on reserve, who all say, “Bon Arrivee!”
“Merci!”
“Athieme, non?”
“Oui, Athieme. 200F.”
“Non, Madame/Tata, c’est 300F. L’essence est cher.”
“O, ao.” Finger wag. “La vie est cher. C’est 200F.” And I start to walk away.
“Okay okay okay.”
With the subtlest of nods my price is agreed on and away we go. Yes, this happens every single time.
I pass by a couple of villages that are also home to some of the women I work with. I wave on passing by, even if I don’t recognize anyone, because I am sure to be recognized by someone, and don’t want anyone saying I am rude.
The garden/tree nursery is to the right, just before Ghislain’s home, two places I always search for familiar faces. Patrice is often in the garden, watering, and Anes and/or Edward are killing time and goofing off under the pyote (spelling?). Sometimes I pass by Ghislain on his bike, while waving to him of course.
I enter Athieme. The chef d’arrondissment’s office is to the right; sometimes my friend the Secretaire is out front beneath the trees. I wave to him. Across from the office is a friendly lady who sells various forms of fried bread and some cook drinks. Almost always with her is Bertrand, one of the friendliest zemi-men, who always offers me a free ride home if I am walking, since we live in the same direction. I wave to both of them, and they say bon arrivee.
The mosque is to the right, from which I can hear the call to prayer clear across town at my house. Next-door is the CEG, or College d’Enseignment (spelling?) Generale, the secondary school for Athieme and many surrounding communities. I make regular appearances there for the English Club (I taught Row Row Row Your Boat last time) and just behind at the playing fields for basketball Wednesdays and Saturdays. Also, behind the CEG is the neighborhood with Mathurin’s and the Secretaire’s home.
Back to the main road: the intersection just past the school has my favorite beans and rice lady and bread lady. I practice and learn Mina while eating a lot of beans and rice. There are crowds of zemi men beneath a tree on one side and under a shelter on the other side. I wave to all. “Bon Arrivee!” The road to the right leads to the neighborhood aforementioned. I would write the name, but I confuse people when I speak it, so I won’t attempt; this neighborhood has the goods. All the fried snacks are here; bread, sweet potatoes, plantains, yams, etc., all with a good bit of piment on the side. Lots of students I play with, and a few of the girls in the club live down this road too.
Back to the main road again: the next little intersection is again a “T”. To the right (my neck is getting sore) are the shops of Maturin’s wife, where I buy eggs sometimes, and all of my wheat flour and baking powder. Continuing past her stores eventually puts me in her home’s neighborhood. Directly across from her road is my tailor.
The next intersection is a big one. To the right is the neighborhood of Athieme-gon. To the left is the neighborhood of Gbedji, where Hortense lives. This intersection also is the little marche and the semi-supermarche and other food vendors. And, a crowd of zemis in whatever shade they can find.
Almost home. The next road to the left has the buvette with the coldest drinks, and the telephone, and forms a circle with the previous left. A little past is the most pleasing buvette: fairly cold drinks, open air, and friendly staff. This buvette is attached to the Maison des Jeunes, the city hall-like structure, used for any public functions. Next-door is the douanes, who regulate the marche traffic between Togo and Benin. There is also a barbers’ shop and phone cabine, all of whom are my friends. They teach me Mina.
Across from all that action, and to the left finally, is the school where Mathurin works. The Centre de Sante, Health Center, is next door.
The next left leads to the big soccer stadium, two other villages, and the Mono River. I also pass in front of my home on this rode. Usually, though, I don’t take that left, but continue past the woman selling on the corner, waving, past CLAC, past the post office, past the road to the Catholic Church, cut through the yard in front of the mayors’ office, thus missing another excellent beans and rice lady, the mayors’ home (I am good friends with his kids), and the river, and passing just in front of the gendarmerie, through some tall grass, past my backyard (two orphans who live in the nearby orphanage say bon arrivee while at the well) and to the fence gate.
“Enyo. Akpe-lo.” Pay the zemi and walk to the door, where Derique is so happy to greet me.
Ah, chez moi. I open the doors where the heat from inside chases me back out after putting down my stuff. I straddle the planter to the right and greet Emelda, the girl who lives next door. I either drag out a chair or just sit on the porch railing to read my book and enjoy the breeze. Maybe after a while a friend will drop by to chat or fix the program for the following day, or ask a question on their English homework. In any event, I am home, wondering what dinner I will find/create and if I might want coffee or tea.

Translations:
L’essence: fuel
La vie: life
Cher: expensive
O/ao: no in Mina/Kotafon
Bon Arrivee: similar to Welcome
Goudron: tar, or black top road
Terre-rouge: red dirt
Carre-four: intersection (even if it’s a “T”)
Athiemegan: where the founder of Athieme lived
Enyo: it’s good, in Mina/Kotafon
Akpe-lo: Thanks bunches in Mina.

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Photos

CLAC
CLAC at CLAC. I call the "head librarian" CLAC, as well as the building.

Friends
Koudjo and Romarique (spelling?) at CLAC. I also play basketball with these guys.

Yovokomey Court
My friends! They did all the work. They do most of the playing too. Kofi is being silly in this picture.

Comments

[Dad Kraus]

Can not wait to visit!
Hey yovo Africaner! Your home sounds like a good place! Your friends and family here are all talking about coming to visit. I can not wait to meet your friends, of course we will need a translator to converse. Oh yeah, the picture of the road in Africa looks amazingly similar to the mud road next to ours here in Kansas!