Night Before Christmas (Dec 24th)

T’was the night before Christmas and not a creature was stirring expect the bat in Jennifer’s house. But, that’s the end of the story. Let’s go back first to the beginning. The day before Christmas I left Asrama and took the moto ride in to Notse. It was Saturday and thus, marché day in Notse. I was pretty much down to spaghetti noodles and eggs. Therefore, I needed to go out and buy some veggies otherwise my Christmas day was going to be pretty lean.

Notse the day before Christmas on marché day was something to behold. People were everywhere selling chickens, carrots, pimont, and pangne. It was overwhelming all the sights,sounds, and smells. I made a quick sweep of the marché to get an idea where what I wanted to buy was located. Women tend to set up right next to each other selling the same thing. Not exactly smart when it comes to economics, but it makes shopping a little easier. I’ll know the bread ladies are over there and the women selling cabbage are next to them.

Once I had a general idea of the layout, I snagged some bisap from a girl selling them from a bucket on top of her head and made my way over to Hotel Effata, which isn’t far from the marché. Their chicken sandwiches are delicious and filled with veggies (more then I eat in a week combined). Though it’s a little pricey, it’s well worth it.

When I was done eating I went back to the marché and bought the essentials (and stuff that’s rare to find at my marché): carrots, cabbage, potatoes, and good bread. Then I motoed back to Asrama trying to get back before then sun fully set. Swarley, my dog, was ecstatic to see me. I leave for a couple of hours and he’s practically trying to jump into my arms like I’ve been gone for days. I opened my door and set my bags down. By this time it was dark in my house so I went to my bedroom to grab my candles and I heard something moving over head.

I screamed, of course, and quickly found my head lamp. There was a bat the size of my palm flying around my bedroom. The absurdity of it made me laugh and then call my Father since I figured he too would get a kick out of a bat trapped in my house on Christmas eve. Dad, suggested that I find my host family to help me and to be careful and not get bit. Last thing I needed would be to have to take another trip to the med unit before a major holiday because the creatures of Togo decided to attack me.

I intended to take my Dad’s advice, but my host family was nowhere to be found. So I grabbed my bali (Togolese broom) and decided to try and heard the bat out my front door. It had to have been quite the sight; me swinging a broom at a bat hanging from my drop ceiling with Swarley barking like crazy and me screaming every time the bat swooped down to get away from my broom.

I’m not sure who was more terrified . . . me or that poor bat. It took fifteen minutes for the poor thing to find my open door and make a hasty get away. All part of the fun and excitement of living in Africa.