At least now, when it rains, most of the water finds its way down the sides. This is the next section after improvements. Driving in Togo is even more fun on a moto-bike. This evening I rode home from "downtown" after dark on my moto. Love how every rut, hole, and stone looks so much different in the shaking light of a single beam headlamp.
This was an interesting week. Told the students at Bible Institute "English Class" that I had managed to get invited to a "tea" for 15 ROTC students from the USofA that are teaching English to Togolese military officers. Asked them to pray that God would open a door to getting some material from what our government sent to Togo for an English curriculum. Made some good contacts and should know in a day or two if fruitful. The get together was at the Kennell's home and one of the first things to happen was to meet a Captain (Togolese) who located Sergeant Gabriel (transferred from Kara Prison command) for me and now while I am at the youth conference in August I should be able to get together with him.
ROTC students are all ARMY (so glad it was not Air Force) and from all over US including Hawaii. They will only be here a few more days and then back to home. Really great group of young people and at least one Christian that I was able to talk to.
Friday Christophe and I went for a ride to the International Airport at Niamtougou and were invited to meet the Commandant of the Airfield, given a briefing and then escorted on a tour of the control tower. Enjoyable experience for me and I think unique for Christophe. Most Togolese do not get opportunity to interact with those in positions of authority.
Still have not met the President and only five and a half months left. May have to make a trip to Lome if he does not stop by Jon's house while he is here in Kara.........
Accumulating memories and filing them in "brain" album for future enjoyment. Wish I was eloquent that I might be able to paint word pictures of the sights, sounds and smells of Togo. Even a simple thing like having a cup of coffee in a restaurant that would be a bistro if in France with two walls open to the night and creepy creatures doing their creepy things in the garden next to my table. The music of Togo in the background and conversations in French from the table next to mine add to the mystique, making me feel like I am in an Agatha Christie story and Hercule Poirot should be entering stage left. (Hercule Poirot est un détective belge de fiction créé par la romancière Agatha Christie.) Exposed to to much BBC and an overactive imagination.
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