La Fete e(s)t le Fufu

December is always a crazy month – holidays, travel, end of the year-hype and Togo has proved to be no different. The pre-holiday buzz reverberated in the capital city of Lomé with 2 enormous fairs selling everything from cheap candy and clothes to unattainably expensive solar energy modules. My personal favorite gadget was the Fufu-Mix (fufu is a staple food made of ignames pounded in a large mortar and pestle typically by 2 young women); a hoard of people, faces pressed against the glass of the demonstration, watched in awe as an over-sized blender whipped ignames into fufu in mere minutes. But would it taste the same? Would people buy it? How would they know fufu was for sale if they couldn’t hear the rhythmic pounding and see the wooden rods like pistons pumping through the air? It was like watching the 1950s unfold…

Rang in the New Year out in Lonvo (see aforementioned small village) to the sound of occasional waves of drumming and cheers throughout the night. I’m not sure anyone actually had a watch to know when midnight struck ---but “la fete continue!” We celebrated with three days of wandering between huts giving well wishes, taking sips of sodabi (the local moonshine) and eating enormous portions of fufu or rice with spicy tomatoey sauce. After receiving several gifts of ignames and a portion of freshly killed goat (with some of the fur still on), Mike and I decided to invite over some guests and step up to pound some fufu ourselves, accidentally ending up with an enormous amount which fed not only the chief and a few friends, but also the neighbors and the women who loaned us their mortar, and then when there was still some left, a whole nother family. Who knew 3 ignames would go so far?

The next day the young girls of the village wrapped in matching swaths of fabric performed a series of seriously athletic dances under the shade of dried palms at the center of the chief’s compound; their mothers smiling proudly watching from the sides. Periodically an audience member would throw candy at the dancers, who would quickly snatch it up and hide it in their skirts, dancing all the while. But if they caught the eye of the lady calling the shots she would give a look and they’d have to give it right back. A young boy sitting beside me dove hard for a piece of candy, risking a clobbering by kids twice his size, and successfully snuck back to his seat, only to unravel it and find a rock where the candy should be… But with a feast of rice afterward everyone went home satisfied.

Best wishes for the New Year! From one village to another.