I lived in Togo for a while, Glen - so a long way from where you were but still dreadfully imbalanced in terms of the haves and have nots.
I was there as a croupier, working at the casino of the Hotel Sarakawa. We were housed in private villas and each had a personal maid - my maid's name was Veronica, although she insisted that I call her Sister Veronica. I am from humble beginnings myself and my mother has cleaned for other people; needless to say, this made me very uncomfortable. In silent protest, I washed my own underwear, only to find that Sister Veronica was mortified - it apparently reflected badly on her.
Just down the lane from my villa was a small 'lean-to' type affair. A corrugated tin roof supported by two wooden posts and backing onto a fence. It was home to five or so families. I used to pass by on my way to the bakers and invariably bought them a few loaves of bread. That went down very badly indeed with my casino owning employers. I was contracted for a year - I was home much, much quicker than that. I'm far from a political person but I couldn't stand the inequalities.
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