The True African Legacy

From time to time I've fancied myself quite the entrepreneur – so much so that I've been lucky enough to be carted half-way round the globe to pass on my experiences doing things with buzz-worthy names like 'capacity-building' and 'synergistic facilitation'. However, now that my feet are on the ground, its beginning to dawn on me that the bit about me knowing something about business is worth about as much as that tract of swampland I bought out in Nevada – the true entrepreneurs are here, sneaking yams across borders, carting boxes of fresh baked bread to the street corners every morning, using cell phone connections to run back-door internet cafes. Africa's strength lies in its people, in their resilience, in their ability to create jobs where none exist.

The road between Lome (the capital) and Kpalime (the closest city to our staging) is called, pragmatically, the route national. This road connects the capital to the uppermost corner of Togo, at the Burkinabe border, acting as a life-line through the impassable parts of the interior. There are other roads, for sure, and where there aren't roads, there soon will be, but most of these are a bit like a moto-cross rally, and, at worst, something resembling the surface of the moon. 14 of us were coming back up the route national yesterday, having all just finished 8 days visiting our future posts, establishing business contacts, reconnoitering the surroundings, establishing our households, and, in my case, tracking down a stable supply of schwarma. We spent the night at a fellow PCV's, trading stories, grilling au americain, and drinking about 5 too many beers, and were all in various stages of lethargy for the ride back. We jostled along, avoiding livestock and taxis, swerving for potholes and mud deposits from the deluge that started 12 hours earlier and had yet to let up, but never slowing down. Once you step foot in a bush taxi, you go as fast as possible, as much of the time as possible. Sure, taxis flip, but hey, relax - you're gonna die sooner or later anyway. The speed is a necessity, as things here travel more by momentum than locomotion. If you can get something going here (read: if), only a handful of things will ever stop it before its final destination – (most of these fall into the 'aw, shit' category) things like Satan rampaging across the hinterland, sudden chauffeur defenestration, or, as we all found out, unofficial checkpoints consisting of shirtless locals and very big logs. You see, where you or I would see a dull stretch of highway, Africans see a meal ticket. In case you were wondering, there are lots of logs in Africa. Lots. I call it job security.

Cost to move a log in Togo – 50 CFA and up, depending on disposition and skin color -

Sometimes the only difference between capitalism and extortion is what side of the wallet you are on.