At a local foodstand, a woman mixes a pot of akoumé.

After Brian took a quick a reconnaissance run, we decided to explore the neighborhood by foot.
    Around 10:30, we walked in a loop: east on Avenue Akéi, north on Boulevard Jean-Paul II, back south on Blvd J-P II, and then west on the dirt roads parallel to Akéi. The whole walk took 2 hours.
    It was lovely walking around, seeing people and not getting hustled. I know we were an odd sight: foreigners walking. Zemidjans would slow down, pausing to see if we needed a ride. The destination of our walk was a little shoe shack Brian thought I'd like. I had bought plain black sandals yesterday and was looking for something more Togolese. The boy at the shoe shack was very shy and had a small voice. Brian thought the child had said something about his Papa not being there. I was a little disappointed because I'd rather shop by the road instead of at le Grand Marché, where the people were so ravenous.
    On the return portion of the loop, we walked through hard packed dirt roads. Children too small for school played near their mothers. One small boy, about six, was carrying an open container of water on his head. I was impressed by the dexterity and strength he needed to carry the 2-3 gallons.

Fait Comme Moi
Brian was hungry so we stopped at a food stall near the interior north of Avenue Akéi. At the front of the food stall, women had several pots containing different sauces. The sauces were served with akoumé, a fermented white corn mush the consistency of cooled Cream of Wheat. The interior section was an enclosed sitting and eating area. The exterior cooking area had several fireplaces where they prepared hugh pots of akoumé
    Brian chose akoumé served with a gumbo sauce. We sat in the eating area where one of the women set the table with cups of drinking water (which I didn't drink; I drank only bottled or filtered water), a large bowl of water, and a small bowl with something blue. I wondered if the blue lump was something to eat. A sniff revealed it was soap. The big bowl of water was for washing hands.
    Here's an irony for you. I think Americans either take cleanliness for granted or they see the world coated in bacteria — hence the recent craze for "anti-bacterial" products. Frankly, I rarely saw my co-workers wash their hands before eating although they'd spent the day touching telephones, doorknobs, and computer keyboards. In Togo, people eat with their hands; they're a lot more sensitive to good eating hygene. (And the hot weather has created a society where multiple daily showers are the norm.)
    "Fait comme moi!" urged on of the patrons. I declined. "Non, merci. Je n'ai pas faim." The truth is that I hate gumbo, never having recovered from a bad gumbo encounter in the early 90's. Brian chatted with a university geography student named "David" Tchona Ayefouni. David was very charming and said he'd be happy to show us around Lomé if we ever needed a guide. He also said that it was easier for Francophones to learn English than Anglophones to learn French. What was unspoken was that American Anglophones often learn a 2nd languge much later than other children in the world. English-only fanatics discourage bi-lingualism.
    Charlie was pleased we'd seen the area by foot. "That neighborhood is called Forever." I asked what they call it in French. Charlie said, "Forehverh!"

The Marine House
That evening's entertainment involved going to the U.S. Marine House to see The Truman Show. Six Marines are posted there to protect the U.S. Embassy. They show a film every Friday night, outside when it doesn't rain. The ex-pats there were mostly teachers, embassy employees and their children. The American children had better French accents than their parents.
    Before the show started, I chatted with people who gave me recommendations of places to visit during our visit. We were urged to go to Ouidah, Benin. Voudou is strong there and we had to see La Porte du Non-Retour, a monument to slaves. The place place to stay? An absurdly named spot: Mon Pied Ton Pied or My Foot Your Foot.
    There was an interesting cross-cultural moment while we watched the movie. In one scene, Truman discovers an odd photograph in his wedding album. Using a magnifying glass, he sees that his wife crossed her fingers behind her back while she sealed her wedding vows with a kiss. There was a murmuring in the audience, because the meaning of the crossed fingers was unclear to some of the viewers. Crossed fingers can mean all sorts of things. In this case, crossed fingers behind the back negated the wedding vows — it was a lie. •