If someone were to ask me what I truly loved, a few things would come to mind. There are the bucolic standards – family, life, freedom – but assuming for just a second that I am a healthy, well-adjusted individual we can delve to a much more fun, superficial level. I would say that I love seeing my breath on a cold morning. I love the smell of sun-soaked skin after a day swimming in the river or searching for shark's teeth. I love it when sons show respect to their mothers. I love the exhaustion and relief that come intertwined at the end of a long run. I love the walking stick I had to leave in the states. I love hearing the exact right set of chords at the right time. I love the excitement that comes with taking a huge risk. I love waking up and trading a knowing smile with someone. I love wine. I love cheese danishes (I'm talking, really love cheese danishes).
As I'm sure you can imagine, I could keep going. We all have those little things that make us smile and keep us centered even in unfamiliar environs. My environs are quite unfamiliar to me, so I've had to make a concerted effort to find things that can keep me centered, balanced, focused. When we fall out of sync with ourselves, we end up falling into patterns of extremes – adjectives followed by 'too much' – sleeping too much, reading too much, crying too much, drinking too much. At home, surrounded by family and friends our patterns keep us grounded, if albeit at times, quite bored. At home, I drink lots of hot tea and take long walks in the woods. I find back-alley bars and sit for hours with a bottle of wine and a good book. I hug my parents. Here its a bit different – in such a different environment its much easier to go a little ape-shit from time to time. So, what to do? Well, I've found a new love – everyone, meet tchouk. Tchouk, everyone.
Tchouk is, at its simplest, home-brewed millet beer. Millet is ground in a mill (called a moulin here – a windmill) which produces a red clay-colored powder. This powder is mixed in with a huge pot of water and left to settle for a few hours. When all seems calm, the froth at the top is scraped off and a huge fire is lit underneath. The brew is stirred for many hours and then left to ferment for many days. As a fun bonus, charcoal is thrown in with every batch. When asked why, I received the all-encompassing response that, by the earnest look across Maman Colette's face, settled all further discussion– 'for the ancestors'.
Still, by reducing it to its basic constituents does it a great injustice, for tchouk's meagre means belie its greater purpose as a whole. Tchouk comes originally from the northern parts of Togo, brewed by the Kabye and Kotokoli. I've heard the best of the best can be found near Dapaong and Mango. Brewed every morning and fermented in either 3 or 5 day shifts, a community's morning visit to the tchoukstand (called the 'cafe matinal') is comparable to a morning coffee at Hardee's back in the states. Gossip is traded, stories swapped, the difficulties of the day sloughed off with each calabash. There are two main types of tchouk – the vrai tchouk and tchokpa (I am clueless as to the spelling there). They are fundamentally the same thing, with only a few variations in the brewing originating from their locations up north. Tchouk tends to be a bit sweeter, less fermented, and less alcoholic. Tchokpa on the other hand, is darker, spicier, more fermented, and quite a bit stronger (still, maybe only 5% by volume). I've heard lengthy diatribes from local experts expounding upon even more minute differences between further delineations (loso-micine, kabye-micine, dapaong-micine) but for all intensive purposes, just know that there are a few types and while you aren't expected to drink one exclusively over the others, depending on where you are from you are expected to profess your love for your natal brew, no matter how deferentially you choose to do so.
Now there are much more efficient vessels for inebriation in country. A 50cfa (a dime's-worth) shot of sodobe will buddy you up much faster than 5 or 6 calabashes. But tchouk isn't drank here as we would drink it in the states. Tchouk is used primarily to escape from the heat of the day and relax with conversation. There was tchouk stand a stone's throw away from my house in Agou-Akoumawou, which I used almost daily as an impromptu Ewe lesson. It didn't take long before I was known throughout my stage as Mattchouk. I've continued the tradition here in Lome, and truly enjoy my daily excursions. As a happy side effect, my Ewe has become relatively passable --- and I owe it all to those dirty calabashes of tropical swill. So, in the effort to better integrate, learn some local language and stay centered, anytime I see my local maman's drapeau sitting out front of the tchoukoutchounuƒe I always make sure to sidle up and enjoy a few quiet minutes with friendly smiles where everyone knows my name. And, hey, here its not a bad thing that me tro va egbe sia egbe. If I come back every day, it just makes me one of the locals.
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