The Foreign Service Journal, January 2012

J A N U A R Y 2 0 1 2 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 21 Lasting Impressions When I first arrived in the Agu District of Togo, I did not plan to stay long. I had already spent two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Honduras and, while I was de- lighted to have a second opportu- nity to serve, I told myself that if I did not enjoy the experience, I would quit and return to graduate studies in the States. As it happened, I surprised myself by serving as a Vol- unteer for three more years and then joining the local Peace Corps staff. Every time I was ready to return to the States, something would come up. Like the unforgettable African sunsets, the sights, sounds and smells of the conti- nent captivate you. And as the years wear on, you feel something deeply that makes it harder and harder to leave. I completed my Peace Corps service in 1976 in Niger and then embarked on a Foreign Service career with USAID that took me to every subregion of Africa. Though I was involved in a wide variety of complex projects over the next two decades, I think I did not learnmuch new after leaving my first Peace Corps village in 1973. In all of my subsequent work, I regularly asked myself how this or that project would work in my Togo village. That remained my indispensable compass throughout my long development career. I spent time with several African presidents (Eyadema, Bongo, Kountché, Sékou Touré, Kérékou, Nyerere, Buy- oya and Chissano), as well as top Somali warlords Mo- hamed Farrah Aideed and Ali Mahdi Muhammad. I also met a number of other heads of state at Sékou Touré’s fu- neral in Conakry inMarch 1984 (see “The Grand Syli’s Fu- neral” in the February 2011 Journal ). But my most in- teresting meetings have been with local authorities, tradi- tional chiefs, sorcerers, witch doctors and religious leaders. Of course, hundreds of other people have played parts in my long African saga, as well: journalists, authors, tourists, donor representatives and missionaries who lived all their lives in Africa. They, along with the 17 U.S. am- bassadors I served and dozens of Foreign Service col- leagues, helped shape my views about Africa. In my mind’s eye, I can still see the faces that made the most lasting impression. Most of them are ordinary Africans going about their daily business of surviving. I see clearly the faces of shop owners, women preparing food at the roadside, people struggling with heavy loads on their heads, beggars, street children, the hordes of people riding bicycles and mo- torbikes. The list is as endless as the impressions are indelible. Of course, my firsthand exposure to Africans each day added to my huge reservoir of experience. Sadly, many of my African friends have now passed away — a fact that brings home harshly the realization that life expectancy in Africa is low. As I often point out, I have been in Africa longer than most Africans: today a majority of the population is less than 16 years old. One result is that the knowledge of many tradi- tional customs has been lost. The passing of respected eld- ers has also left youth adrift. Far too often, today’s role models are wealthy but corrupt officials and leaders of criminal gangs. Post-Independence Euphoria During my first decade in Africa, a post-independence euphoria prevailed. The atmosphere was happy, colorful and full of hope. We all thought our mission would unfold like theMarshall Plan and, within a few years, Africa would be able to move ahead on its own. The idea was to work ourselves out of a job by building local capacity, enabling countries to become economically, as well as politically, in- dependent. Forty years later I am very far from being out of work, and most African countries are more dependent on external aid than ever before. In the earlier years we had much more fun than today, especially as you could go anywhere — day or night — without any security concerns. We went to remote places to hear the drums play all night under a full moon and drink our fill of fresh palm wine. The language of talking drums was interpreted for us by the few old men who understood it. People sang and danced and laughed until the sun came up. Ceremonies of all sorts took place, and we were all careful to pour a drink on the ground for the ancestors be- fore we drank anything ourselves. At that time, there were popular local songs, and “high life” and rumba music were in vogue. Some of those old tunes and the sliding sound made by the dance steps are still in my head. (Now when I am down, I listen to rumba music from the Congo to pick up my spirits; a Congolese once told me that rumba music was invented to fight mis- F OCUS We all thought our mission would unfold like the Marshall Plan and, within a few years, Africa would be able to move ahead on its own.