Service Please!

A big struggle I have had since being here is trying to exercise my rights as a customer. It’s definitely an exercise - a big workout - and one that doesn’t bring any results!

One thing I have discovered about Togo is that you can get some great pizzas here! So, one day, after attending a hospital appointment with my husband, we were feeling peckish and wanted to find somewhere local to eat. After about 10 minutes of slowly cruising around on the motorbike, we spotted a rather attractive restaurant, with a seemingly attractive menu. We went in, sat down and ordered a drink whilst looking through the menu.

As I looked at the pizza menu, I spotted one that looked good, it was called “Pizza Speciale” and the toppings included tomato, mozzarella, sausage, onions and peppers. So, I placed my order and waited patiently for my freshly baked pizza.

After a while, along came the waitress and placed the plate in front of me. When she lifted the cover off the plate, to my shock horror the pizza firstly looked like it had come straight out of a box and into a microwave. Secondly, it had pepperoni, large bits of ham (which I don’t eat!) and mushrooms - nothing like what I ordered! My initial reaction was to ask my husband to explain to the non-English speaking waitress that she had made a mistake. As he explained to her, I heard her reply in the local language (Ewe) “She did order a Pizza Speciale, right?” My husband said yes. She then told him to wait a moment and went off somewhere. When she came back, to my disbelief, she was holding a “Ristorante” pizza box (you know Ristorante - the frozen pizzas that you can find in Tesco, Morrisons and the like). The box was labelled “Pizza Speciale” so she insisted that this was what I ordered.  At this point, I was getting rather annoyed…

I asked my husband to explain to her that people don’t order according to the name, but according to the description! How do I know what a Pizza Speciale is? Firstly, no one told me it would be out of a box! Secondly, the toppings described on the menu were completely different to what was in the box! I was baffled as to why they did not at least copy the description on the box! At least I would have known not to order it! I demanded that she get the manager as I was in no way prepared to pay for what I had not ordered.

As the waitress went to speak to her manager, my husband followed her. He returned within 2 minutes basically saying that the manager was having none of it and that we’d have to pay for it. I was fuming at the injustice I was facing. I thought to myself, “oh yeah? We’ll see who’s having none of it!” I told my husband to leave the money for the drink we’d ordered and let’s go. It turned out he was having none of that. He turned to me with a look of disbelief at how seemingly irrational I was being. This confused me. He then said “We can’t leave here without paying for the pizza. They will make a scene!” I replied “firstly, we have not touched the pizza and secondly this is not what I ordered, so why should we pay for it? Thirdly, how can they make a scene when we get on our bike and speed off? We’ll be gone in 10 seconds!” My husband now thought I was being totally out of order and proceeded to argue with me…

Long story short, after being made to feel like the unreasonable foreigner amongst a group of like-minded natives, we had to pay for the pizza and my husband took it away with him. He was far from impressed with my behaviour and I was far from impressed with the whole situation! Coming from a world where “the customer is always right” I could not understand how the person providing a service to me, the paying customer would make a mistake with my order and basically want me to pay for her mistake! Completely foreign to me and beyond my comprehension!

The honest truth is that this is just one of several customer service-oriented run-ins I have had since being here. I will tell you another honest truth - this is one of the many reasons for lack of prosperity in Africa. Here, many people fail to see the bigger picture. They fail to realise that good service brings repeat custom. They don’t know that word of mouth is extremely powerful and very effective when it comes to business. Their greed and desperation not to lose out on anything makes them blind to reasoning. What they don’t know is that in the long run they are losing out on much more! I had a similar run-in at a restaurant in Ghana. I have never been back there and tell everyone I know how bad the service is!

On the flip-side, at a recent weekend away in Kpalime, my husband and I went to a Belgian restaurant. We ordered burgers and chips. My husband decided that he wouldn’t have chips anymore so I asked the lady “can we have one without chips please?” she nodded. When she brought our plates, she had given us both chips and my husband no cheese in his burger. We pointed out the mistake and she apologised, saying she thought we said “one without cheese” and brought him a slice of cheese. As the chips were already on the plate we ate them. When the bill came, we were not charged for the chips, even though we had eaten them! We were so impressed with the service that we gave her a generous tip. In addition, although we ate somewhere else the following night, we still went back there for drinks because of the good service we had received. How did we get to know about this restaurant? Through a stranger we met when booking our tickets to Kpalime. She heard we were going there and recommended this “simple but lovely” restaurant to us. She told us that it had been recommended to her when she went to Kpalime and she loved it. Can you see the chain reaction here?

I cannot speak for all of Africa, or even for all of Togo and Ghana, but from my experiences so far it is clear that there are many who have yet to grasp the concept that good customer service will always pay off. 

Desperate Housewife Part 2

Out of frustration with my predicament and with the person I had become, I confided in a close friend. I not only needed a cure for my “Desperate Housewife Syndrome” but I also needed a listening ear – someone who could feel my pain and perhaps even feel a bit sorry for me. She quickly responded “right, you need a project!” She could not have been more right. She put me in contact with a mutual friend who was running a Bible Camp for kids in Togo and needed some fun activities. I offered to come in and run a jewellery making workshop with them.

On the morning of the class I got my husband to drop me off at the camp. As I entered the room, I saw a large group of children, divided into four teams. Each team had a colour. They did various activities in order to gain points for their teams. It was heaps of fun to watch.

After a while, it was home time for many of the children, but the older girls were invited to stay behind and take part in some jewellery making! I taught them how to use handheld jewellery tools to make earrings. They thoroughly enjoyed the session and made some lovely pieces.

When the class had ended, I was asked to speak to the girls about my journey with God as a young Christian girl, trusting in God and how I ended up meeting my husband. I shared with them my highs, lows and the mistakes I made. I told them that when I trusted in God, He led me down the right path and to the right person for me.

The girls found this very helpful and later that day I received a text to say that the girls really enjoyed the day and they were very inspired. This was very fulfilling for me, but the Bible Camp was only 3 days long, so this was not something that I could do on a regular basis…It was then that it hit me! I already had projects of my own! Regular ones! I was so focused on my husband not being around, that I forgot about all of the things I could have been getting on with!

I had the Purple Touch website to write for. I also had my business; although I was not able to physically run it, I had the extra time to think up and implement new ideas. I was also able to do more email marketing. When I started to focus on these things, I found that this worked to my advantage. I was able to secure many more contracts as a result of my e-marketing and on a recent trip to London I setup my new contracts and got everything up and running!

In addition to this I realised that being a British girl of non-African heritage, living in West Africa for several months was something unique. I was experiencing so many differences in culture that I wanted to document them all. That’s how I started up this blog! This, my business and many other things keep me more than occupied.

A recent trip to London reminded me of just how busy my London life is! I therefore returned to Africa with a different frame of mind. I resolved to enjoy the free time that I have and to use it to think – something that many of us don’t have time to do in London!

Now, thank goodness, I no longer suffer from Desperate Housewife Syndrome! When my husband does go out to work or out with friends, I have plenty of things to get on with. When I do have free time I use it to plan for our future, to talk to God and to evaluate different areas of my life. This has all worked to my benefit and to the benefit of my husband.

I learnt a huge lesson from this. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations that may temporarily handicap us. If we let our emotions overpower us we can quickly become helpless and a burden to others. Our emotions can also cloud our judgement and prevent us from seeing possible solutions to our problems right away. If I had allowed my emotions to completely overtake me, I would have become a very immature, needy wife and a real burden to my husband! Neediness is not cute, nor is it befitting of a 20-something year old woman!

I am glad I had a friend who set me straight – that helped me on the path to using my own common sense to realise that there was a simple solution to my problem! Unfortunately, friends with good advice may not always be available when we need them, so a level head is needed!

We women will always be emotional to some degree, but after the tears (and sometimes, tantrums) we need to focus on finding the root of the problem and what can be done to solve it. If we do this, we will often find that the solution is right under our nose!

Desperate Housewife! Pt 1

My temporary relocation to West Africa was definitely a culture shock! Not just because of the completely different way of life, but because personally I was miles apart from my busy London lifestyle, where I am constantly on the go.

In London I run my own creative business, where I not only coordinate a number of creative services, but I am responsible for securing new contracts and managing a number of employees and sub-contractors. Life can be pretty hectic at times and I often find myself having lunch on the tube, in-between appointments! That aside, I absolutely love spending time with my family and friends and I’m always thinking of new fun things we can do together…

A few weeks after my wedding in Ghana, it was time to get out of holiday mode. The fun and games had come to an end. My family and friends who had travelled to Ghana for my wedding had now gone back to the UK and our honeymoon period was also over. We now had to get back to reality (well, back to my husband’s reality), so we went back to Togo (where my husband lives) and he started working again.

As my husband works for himself, he often spends long hours at his shop, finishing off orders for people. At times he would leave for work late morning and come back at 10 or 11pm. It was during this time that I began to feel quite lonely. My husband had his work to keep him busy during the day, but I no longer had my business to run around for. Although I was still coordinating my UK based business from here, I had friends and relatives in London helping me out and I would often only have to go online to check everything was running smoothly. This meant that within a few hours my “working day” was over. I would then spend time cleaning and doing my household duties, but they only took up a certain amount of time too. By 5pm I would find myself sitting in my room watching French TV, waiting for my husband to come home from work…

On Saturdays, my husband would try to finish work early and we’d spend quality time together in the evenings, but on Sundays after church he often wanted to go out with his friends. When I accompanied him I would feel silly sitting there whilst they all joked in their local language (which I could not understand a word of at the time). However, when I chose not to accompany him I would feel slightly bitter inside that he’d gone out with his friends and left me at home, knowing I had no friends of my own to go out with. It was in these moments that I realised I had changed. I found myself being needy – I had never been like that in my entire life!

I had always prided myself on being a very independent individual. I liked doing things alone and enjoyed my own company, but now here I was feeling lonely and needy. I felt like a desperate housewife and I hated it. I needed to do something to change…

To be continued…

Death and Bereavement in Africa Pt 3

Saturday 16^th June, my husband got up bright and early for the funeral service of his uncle. He had told me not to come as the funeral service started early in the morning and afterwards, they would be taking the body to Togo to be buried and then they would travel back to Ghana. They would spend a total of 6 hours on the road.

I had planned to spend the day chilling out and doing some retail therapy at Accra Mall, but due to my taxi driver letting me down, I had to stay at home. I was thankful in the end – I spent most of the day sleeping. I hadn’t realised how tired I was, especially after the events of the previous day.

At about 9pm my husband arrived home. He told me about the funeral and burial and gave me the programme to take a look at. I read the tributes from his wife, children and nieces and nephews. They were all very sad. My husband said that this day had been particularly sad, because although he had been dead for a while, the burial made everything official. He was really dead. His body was now in the ground and never again would he walk this earth.

Sunday was the third and final part of the funeral. It was called Thanksgiving day. There was a church service, followed by a party at our late uncle’s home. Music was playing and food was being served. A book also went round for those who wished to present a thanksgiving monetary token to the family. Those who wished to contribute wrote their names, the amount they were giving and the family member they wished to give to (whether the children or widow). The money was then placed in a large wooden box and then divided later on.

As the day went on people were all in higher spirits than the previous days and towards the evening everyone gathered in the living room of the house and started singing and dancing to gospel music. Uncle’s oldest daughter started imitating her father’s dance moves – he was quite a mover! That was a bitter sweet moment… As the night went on “light-off” struck, but that didn’t stop the singing and dancing. Someone lit a candle and everybody continued with the songs of praise.

Later on, we all held hands and said a group prayer. My husband and I left shortly after that. As we were on the way home, my husband said to me “I finally realised that my uncle died. All this time it seemed like he had travelled, but now I realise he is gone” I told him that although his uncle had gone and there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back, he left plenty of good memories to be cherished and he also set many good examples to be followed. Uncle was a hardworking and very innovative man. He always had good ideas and was able to make them happen. He encouraged others to go for their dreams and was himself a great achiever. There is so much to be learnt from the good things that he did and also from the mistakes that he made. He will certainly be missed because he made such a difference.

Uncle’s death had certainly been a unique experience for me personally and although it was one that I wish I and all those who loved him did not have to experience, I did learn two main things:

Firstly, we should cherish our loved ones whilst they are with us. We should make the most of our time with them – teaching them, learning from them, making amends with them and more. I say this because when they are gone, we will still miss them dearly, but at least we will not regret the things we did or did not say and do.
 

Secondly, death is inevitable. It’s the sure end for all of us. But, if we live our lives in the way that our Creator wants us to, we can be sure that after death we will certainly live again. When a loved one departs from this earth, we will not see them again in this life, but if they died as true servants and believers of God, then they truly have gone to a much better place and one day, we will surely see them again.

This is the end of my death and bereavement experience, but I leave you with something that I read on the Facebook wall of one of my good friends – I couldn’t agree more with this:

“When you were born, you cried and world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die the world cries and you rejoice…”

Death and Bereavement in Africa...Pt 2

Week commencing 9^th June 2012…this weekend was the impending funeral of my husband’s uncle. I must admit I was very nervous about the upcoming events. Firstly because it had been almost a month since uncle’s death, so everyone had calmed down and life almost continued as normal for most, but with the funeral and the burial, emotions would be high once again. This would make it real – he really did die. This would be the final goodbye. Secondly, because my husband had given me an idea of how funerals in Africa tend to take place. They run over 3 days – the first day being a Friday, when the body of the deceased is “laid in state” (laid openly in a room at his home). I just didn’t know what that would be like.

So, Thursday came and we were on the way to Ghana. We arrived late afternoon and stopped by at uncle’s house to check that the funeral plans were going okay. The next day we got up early to go back to the house. My husband wore black. I had packed a black dress but it needed ironing. My husband told me to wear my normal clothes and we’d iron the dress when we got to uncle’s house. We arrived to witness many preparations underway. The front of the house was being draped in red and black fabric (those are the funeral colours in Africa) and at the back, meat was being butchered and food was being prepared.

Most people were in their normal attire, but after a short while they started to change into black and red clothing. My husband ironed my dress for me and as I went to the room to change, I realised the top back of the dress was see-through and I needed to wear a vest! I had completely forgotten about that! At the same time, one of the girls happened to be leaving for the market, so I gave her money to buy me a black vest.  It was a few hours before she returned…those hours seemed like years…

As more family members arrived I became increasingly concerned that they may have thought I was being disrespectful. Here everybody was in long, black and red outfits, heads covered and there I was, sitting there in my knee-length white skirt and floral top! I was so embarrassed. I let out a huge sigh of relief when the young lady returned from the market with my vest.

During this time, my husband had gone to the morgue with his cousin to dress the corpse of his uncle and prepare it for being laid in state. Uncle’s daughters and nieces waited at the house, chatting and watching TV. I listened to their conversations and as well as being admirable of how strong they were trying to be I was also touched by what a close family they are. The family is a large one and most of the girls are around the same age, so it’s nice that they have each other for support.

It was late afternoon when my husband phoned me to say that finally everything was ready and that they were on the way. They were actually now 15 minutes away. I asked him if he was okay and told him I’d see him soon. As I hung up I had butterflies in my stomach. The body was coming home. I didn’t know how everyone was going to react but I knew it would not be easy.

Uncle’s daughters had also received word that they were on their way and I saw their faces change. I looked at them and I have to admit my heart sank. It was going to be a very, very sad moment for them. I couldn’t imagine how they were feeling. After about 10 minutes, I could hear the faint sound of a siren and I became nervous. In Africa, they carry the body in an ambulance and sound the siren the entire journey from the morgue to the house. I knew then that they were nearby. The siren became louder and louder, until finally we could hear them coming down the road to the house. By this time there were quite a lot of people at the house and there were chairs and a marquee outside. I sat on a chair not too near to the gate and just waited. As they arrived outside the house, people started to cry and scream. Then uncle’s wife ran out crying. It was a very painful experience and very, very intense. The cries and screams increased and I saw the children crying as my husband and his cousins carried their uncle’s coffin past everyone, into the house.

After a few minutes everything went silent. My husband came to see me, to check that I was okay. I told him I was fine, but at that moment I cried. It was a very sad affair. My husband comforted me. He had surprised me. It was difficult for him to have to dress his uncle’s body and carry his coffin, but he had kept his composure. He even said to me “are you proud of me for being strong?” I was certainly very proud of him.

Shortly afterwards, the body was available to view. It had been placed in a room at the front of the house, which was normally the living room. The room had been beautifully decorated and specially prepared for the body to be laid in there. There were flowers and framed pictures of uncle at different stages of his life. One of uncle’s daughters refused to go in and view the body of her father, but later I had seen she had written on Facebook something to the affect of “daddy is home now, but he is not moving…he is dead” That was heart-wrenching. It was now becoming real – never again would they talk to their father, they would never dance with him again, never laugh with him. Not in this life anyway.

Later that evening, another uncle who is a pastor held a short service for close family members. The service took place in the living room, around the body. My husband asked me to attend. It was conducted in Ewe (the African language of Togo) but my husband translated. Afterwards, some family members and friends left, but many stayed until the early hours of the morning. At about 5am, my husband took me home and then got ready to return to the house for the second day of the funeral. I didn’t attend as they would be travelling from Ghana to Togo for the burial and my husband thought it would be too much for me…

To be continued…

Death & Bereavement in Africa...Pt 1

We were less than 4 weeks into married life…it was a Monday night and we had just come back from my husband’s shop. We were chilling at home, watching TV when my husband received a phone call. His uncle had been very ill over the weekend and was now in hospital. My husband went into a panic over needing someone’s phone number and when he realised he had left his blackberry at the shop he went back out to get it.

Whilst he was gone I sat in my chair, wondering how I would cope with a grieving husband if the worst were to happen. I had hoped the worst wouldn’t happen, but couldn’t help but pray and ask God to prepare me for whatever difficult situation might be on its way. I was in a brand new country, with a brand new marriage – these adaptations were already enough to cope with! I did not know how I would be able to manage a possible bereavement too!

A few hours later, what I feared the most had come upon me – my husband’s uncle (whom he loved so dearly) had passed away. When we received the news my husband cried like a child…All I could do was hold him. I felt bad and was in shock at this seemingly untimely news. I knew I had to be there to support my husband, but the events that followed, I was not prepared for.

The very next morning, another of my husband’s uncles was travelling from Togo to Ghana, where his late uncle had lived with his family. We decided to go with him. After an approximate 3-hour drive we arrived at the house. I couldn’t help but be worried about what would come as I would see all his children and his wife. I knew they would be devastated and there would be nothing anyone could do to comfort them. As I got out of the car I could hear a woman screaming in the house. Her screams were like screams of agony. It was almost unbearable. As I got inside there was sadness everywhere, as was to be expected. The children were crying and others were sitting there silently with sad faces. The screaming was coming from a room in the house and continued for about 10 minutes.

Throughout the day many, many people came to the house to offer their condolences. Some were silently sympathetic, but others screamed and wailed, some even threw themselves on the floor. This heightened emotion was all very new to me and I can only describe it as a culture shock. At one point, the atmosphere became too much for me and I had to leave the house and go for a brief walk. Whilst walking I burst out crying. Not so much because of the death, but because of the intensity of the situation. The atmosphere was so unfamiliar and very overwhelming and at that moment, there was no one there who would have understood exactly where I was coming from. I was the only foreigner. I was the only one who had never experienced such a thing in my life. To everyone else this was normal. It may not have been welcome, but it was normal. I decided to dry my tears and get my act together. This was not about me after all and my main purpose was to be a support to my husband and to the family if at all possible.

The next day, before going back to Togo, we had to go to the mortuary to view the body. I knew this would not be an easy affair, but knowing full well that after death the body becomes only a shell I was not afraid of going to see it. I was mostly worried about how the family members would react seeing their beloved uncle, father, brother lying there, lifeless.

Whilst on the way to the morgue, I did not know exactly what to expect. All I knew was that we were not in Europe, we were in Africa, so the conditions would certainly not be to European standards, but as long as everyone could view the body and leave peacefully that was the main thing. When we got there, we had to wait a while, until we were told that the body was ready. As we entered the room, the first thing that hit me was the smell. It was an indescribable stench. I suddenly could not bear to breathe in. There were flies everywhere and also several dead bodies – and people working on the dead bodies in front of us! I did not expect that...at all. I saw a glimpse of my husband’s uncle, who was laid towards the back of the room. After that I had to make a quick exit.  Had I known that the mortuary setting would be like that, I would never have gone…

Shortly afterwards, we headed back to Togo and the family began to make plans for the funeral, which would happen a month later.

To be continued in my next blog…

I 'Heart' Togo!

In my last blog “Homesick” I promised that I would share with you some of the things I love the most about my new temporary home country, Togo! So, here goes…

Living near the Beach

I currently live about a 10-15 minute walk from the beach, which is great! No such possibility in London! Living so close means my husband and I can go for leisurely walks on Sunday afternoons or enjoy the ocean breeze on hot days.

The pets at the Family House

At the family house in Lome, there is quite a bit of outdoor space and my father-in-law, an animal lover , has many pets. He has goats and rabbits (which he sells on occasion) a kitten, a budgie a dog (of course) and a monkey, which I love!  He says his next pet is a parrot!

Very Affordable Beauty Treatments

Here in Togo, beauty treatments don’t have to be a luxury as they often are in good old London! I can get my hair washed, blow-dried and set for 400 francs (equivalent of about 50p) and a full manicure and pedicure for 3,000cfa (about £4.00)!

Extremely Affordable Tailoring!

Togo is great for getting your own clothes custom-made. The market has a wide range of fabrics to choose from – both African print and European fabrics. The tailoring is so low cost that you could afford to get a whole new wardrobe! My husband recently ordered 5 tailor-made dresses for me. Grand total for workmanship: approx. £30.00!

French!

The main language in Togo is French.  All of the signage and billboards are in French and the majority of TV programmes and films have French voice-overs .  Instead of seeing this as an obstacle, I see it as an opportunity to learn a brand new (and rather fabulous) language!

Siesta!

Siesta is common practice here in Togo. In the middle of the day many workers go home for lunch a few hours’ rest and then head back to work. Although I find it hard to rest during the day, I think the concept is great and it’s a far cry from London’s rat race culture, where siesta is definitely not a possibility!

Interesting Outdoor Places to Chill

In Togo, you can find many gardens and parks that have been fitted with places where you can go to eat drink and listen to music. These places are great as they are in the middle of nature - surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers and some, near the water! They are great for fun times with friends or chilling with your significant other!

Fried Sweet Potato, Spaghetti and Degue!

Believe it or not I had never eaten fried sweet potato before coming to Togo. In my culture we always boiled it or sometimes even mashed it! In Togo, it’s common to eat fried sweet potato with chicken sausage, noodles and a tomato and onion sauce.  I have to say I really enjoy it! Another Togo speciality is hot spaghetti, which can come in a red sauce, with chicken sausage or beef, onions, peppers and mayo. There are places in Togo that only sell spaghetti as it’s very popular

Something sweeter is a favourite of mine called Degue (pron. “deg-eh”). It’s sweet cous-cous with youghurt – really nice  J

Moto-Culture!

The main form of transport in Togo is the motorbike! There are taxis available, but most people have their own motorbike or get around on a “taxi-moto” or “zemidjan” as they call it here in Togo – basically you hail down a motorbike, tell the driver where you’re going, agree on a price, get on the back of the bike and off you go! This means there is hardly any traffic on the streets of Lome – the complete opposite to traffic-ridden Accra!

These are just a few things I love, as well as the outdoor swimming pools, night-time candy stalls and more. Indeed I still miss my hometown from time to time, but I am glad to have found these little treasures in Togo! 

J