First and foremost, one must know how to open a coconut. I do not really know how to do this, so I asked my friend, Bienvenue, to do it for me. He used a machete quite craftily. We poured the water out into a cup, which I then later used (for evil) in the jam. We then used knives to crack the "meat" of the coconut out of its shell. We then scraped the brown skin off of the coconut and washed the pieces before chopping them into very fine little pieces. Next time, I will probably use a grater. Here is Marthilde, my friend in village, demonstrating the cut coconut pieces.
After that hour long process, Bienvenue crushed the coconut pieces on a stone slab (Togolese use this to 'ecrase' most things they put in sauces, such as tomatoes, onions, piment, etc. especially for their fufu sauces. I think this is sort of like using a chopping board, except no choppy choppy, only crushy crushy.) Note picture of him in action. His girlfriend, Marthilde, made fun of him and started singing a booty shaking song as he was doing it. I laughed a lot.
Maybe next week, I will send a more personal story of my travails here in We(s)t Africa. It's rainy season and everyone is out in the fields. Except for me. This last picture is of Marthilde acting as a chief of the coconut jam jars (Chiefs in Togo wear fabric draped over them as she is demonstrating here). Wish me luck
on the marathon this Sunday. And I would like to send a shout out to Ivy Antigone Chiavarini. M'waezo lo (Welcome in Ewe)! I can't wait to meet you, you little precious morsel!