Défelé

I was offered an opportunity to drive an hour into the mountains for a mass on Sunday by the prior. Not being one to willingly miss out on an opportunity to change things up a bit on the typically low-key weekends, I obliged. My response was followed up with, “Ok good, we’re leaving at 5h30.” FML. I was assured that we would just be going for the mass and then returning promptly after lunch, which gave me some comfort in knowing that I wouldn’t be spending the entire day on the road. I wasn’t expecting to completely follow the schedule that was given to me, but I was definitely not expecting the events that occurred.

The 5h25 wake up call on the 5th alarm that I set the night before wasn’t as rough as it could have been, but it sure wasn’t fun either. Groggy Greg climbed into the van with the Archbishop and the prior for the two-hour ride during which I dozed in and out of sleep while listening to my music. We arrived, had a bare bones breakfast of leftover porridge and then made our way to the little chapel. I managed to find a seat among the hundreds of people gathered to see the 5 marriages, yes 5 marriages. I spent the next four hours hunched over on a wooden bench scrunched between a rather large woman and a little girl who was in danger of falling off throughout the ceremony. It was not how I envisioned spending my Sunday morning. It wouldn’t have been as bad had there not been ten eager cameramen (most using 35mm film cameras out of the 70s, one with a video camera out of the mid-90s, and one with a newer video camera and a stage light). Between being blinded by the stage light being shown in my face every time he passed by to get a shot of the crowd and having my view blocked from the other 9 guys I got glimpses of the action.

After the mass, I stood awkwardly outside of the chapel greeting anyone who came up to me while waiting for my two chaperones. We meandered our way back to the curator’s house all the while thinking ‘eat and leave.’ We got back and eventually started eating while the wedding parties made their way to the house before the separate celebrations started at all corners of the town. The food was pretty good, but the lack of people willing to talk to the white guy that no one had ever seen before made it for a rather solitary meal. I did grab the attention of a little girl whom the archbishop made sit next to him, but that didn't last too long. I even picked up on some not so happy thoughts from some of the brides who weren’t too thrilled about the white stranger getting served first with the nicer dishware while they were stuck with the plastic fill-ins. The ensuing eye contact would’ve turned a lesser man to stone.

After eating my fill and sitting/watching the feasting I was delighted to see Bernard (the prior) motion that we were leaving. Yes! I can still salvage some of the day for personal use! Nope. We ended up driving to three of the newlyweds’ parties and subsequently having to turn down food each one on account of not having any room for more. Up until the third one, we had been giving lifts to random people and some of the other celebrants of the ceremony. Upon leaving the third house however, it was just the three of us. Finally, we can go back to Agbang; except, wait, we are driving North not South. Damn. We made a stop at a house about 25 minutes North of Défelé to say hi to some family friends. Afterwards we were Southbound, finally. But this time we took a right and headed West. We stopped at a convent, chatted for another half hour and then drove one of the sisters to another convent on the other side of this little town where we sat and chatted for another half hour. At least at the second place there was some popcorn (of all things wonderful to find in an African village). At this point it was already 5 o’clock and I had given up all hope of getting back in time to do anything I had planned. By then I was hoping to make it back in time for supper.

We finally got on the road and started the journey back to Kara. I wish I could say that the journey was uneventful, but alas we were stopped at a blockade (the likes of which I had never seen in Togo). Apparently all traffic was grounded between a town a hair south of Défelé and Kara. We were initially told to go back to the end of a 2-mile line of cars and trucks before finagling our way to the front by saying that we had an archbishop and a prior in the group. We waited for about 20 minutes and then coerced our way past the blockade saying that we were going to let the bishop wait in the comfort of a parish house not far away. We took back roads to another small town not too far away only to find out that the passage to the main road was blocked off here too. Apparently January 24th is the anniversary of the death of the former president who died in a plane crash. I couldn’t tell you what was going on to commemorate it, but the president went cruising by with his brigade of followers. After the main part of the caravan had passed, Bernard snuck into the tail end of the pack giving us a free road at high speeds for a little while before turning off of the presidential route. We made it back in the nick of time for supper and then I proceeded to pass out hoping that my I would sleepwalk and do all of the work that I had wanted to do earlier.