I took a nice little excursion today. Had I known that it was going to be a three hour drive where 8 people were crammed into 2 rows of a van I might have reconsidered. Had I known that we were driving halfway to Lomé I would have said “no” flat out. This marks the 5th time that I have made it halfway between Kara and Lomé in less than 2 weeks. I was hoping that the last time that I saw this town and road would be on my trip to the airport. That didn’t happen, but there is a silver lining to little road trip in which the monks left me with the bishop at another monastic cellule where I knew absolutely no one (I was furious when I found out as the reason for the trip was to visit the home of the Prior for his mother’s funeral and I had absolutely no choice in the matter). There happened to be 2 Polish priests staying here (one who lives here and another who presides in a Kpezinde Parish (close to Agbang, and I have seem him before).
My rage didn’t last too long as I sat down to see a table full of snacky foods and a bottle of scotch placed in front of me followed by beer and then wine at supper. I basically drank my frustration away and am now typing this slightly inebriated. But the food was good as was the conversation, which was nice not having to stop and wait for it to be explained for other people. I was also called courageous by the Polish priest from Pkazinde for coming back after taking Colin to the airport. Call me blind, but I still don’t see where courage comes into play. I am doing exactly what the people from Togo have been doing their entire lives and as far as I can discern what their parents and grandparents had done before them. If they can do it then there is no reason why I can’t. With that said, the Polish priest also said that he knew the menu at the monastery and he was surprised that I had made it this long. He used “catastrophe” as the description of his experience with the food there. So I got that goin for me.
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