Monday, November 23, 2009
thanks
On this day of celebrating thanks, I begin to list in my head the things I am thankful for. The list is topped by my friends and family who have encourage and supported me so much through this journey otherwise known as Peace Corps (and life on the grandest scale). There have been some hard times and without these people I may not have stayed in Niger as long as I have. With the situation here, we are consolidated outside of our villages and were barely given a chance to inform our communities that our absence would be prolonged by factors beyond their or our control. I am thankful that I was placed in a village that is so open and accepting. I am not forced to completely change my cultural identity. While I am respectful of theirs they are also reciprocal. They love when I dress up but they know I don't have to. I am thankful to have found so many adoptive families here. I know in my heart that if I had to leave tomorrow I'd always have a place to come back to, wouldn't even need to bother with informing them. I'm thankful to have found such a patient and understanding fiance. There are many people who don't understand our connection but we both understand where the other is coming from. Never did I imagine that the superlative from training would be true ( I was voted "most likely to marry a host country national") I am thankful that I have the means to take care of myself as well as the people close to me here. I also want to take care of my friends in America but that will require lots of patience.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Solid
Oh what a crazy whirlwind this month is turning out to be!
I had settled back into life after returning from my American vacation in August. The months have flown by, and I find myself already in November eagerly looking forward to the fete Tabaski. Tabaski is seventy days after the end of Ramadan (the month of fasting). Imagine a country wide BBQ. My favorite part is the fried sheep meat … this is the only way I will eat entrails (because they become unrecognizable and they taste like bacon). Sadly, it seems as if I will not be in my village.
There have been some security issues in this dear country of mine. Luckily, nothing in my region, but we have a nationwide security plan which we are all subject to - no matter where the threat is. So, I find myself with my team, and we are all lacking information. This is not the fault of our staff; they are bending over backwards trying to accommodate us and to find out information. So far, this is "Day Four" of Consolidation. I am luckier than most because a guard at our bureau lives in my village and I’m sending some bush notes with him to update my coworkers, neighbors, and my fiancé.
There have been some security issues in this dear country of mine. Luckily, nothing in my region, but we have a nationwide security plan which we are all subject to - no matter where the threat is. So, I find myself with my team, and we are all lacking information. This is not the fault of our staff; they are bending over backwards trying to accommodate us and to find out information. So far, this is "Day Four" of Consolidation. I am luckier than most because a guard at our bureau lives in my village and I’m sending some bush notes with him to update my coworkers, neighbors, and my fiancé.
Oh yes, so here is the official announcement. I didn’t plan on coming out with it until the new year, but the circumstances and options are rapidly changing. Moctar and I are engaged. We are working on his paperwork to get a fiancé visa - meaning that once he arrives in America we have three months to marry. We are planning a traditional ceremony for friends and family here in Niger which I pray will still be able to happen this July or August.
With all my newfound free time I am getting myself into planning mode. Keep your fingers crossed that these problems will resolve quickly and I wont have to end my service before intended, thus leaving behind a fiancé who depends on me to walk him through all this American paperwork. Pray for my ability to be patient because I severely lack in that department. Look for pictures on facebook!
With all my newfound free time I am getting myself into planning mode. Keep your fingers crossed that these problems will resolve quickly and I wont have to end my service before intended, thus leaving behind a fiancé who depends on me to walk him through all this American paperwork. Pray for my ability to be patient because I severely lack in that department. Look for pictures on facebook!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Visitors from a Faraway Land
This has been one of the busiest and most tiring weeks of my Nigerien life. My dad and brother, Andrew, arrived in Niger around (my guess) 4 AM on Tuesday. My neighbor, Cheikna, and I had come from Kollo to meet them at the airport. We decided to drive into Niamey around 9 PM so we could eat dinner and be ready. Cheikna underestimated how tired he would be so after we ate we ended up in a parking lot behind a friend’s house, me “sleeping” in the car and him on the ground between two cars with my mosquito net attached to their hoods. Unfortunately for me, the mosquitoes were out in full force. I haven’t been bit so bad since my first night in Kollo (last September).
Finally, at 5 AM I finally saw my brother’s little mohawked head. Customs is crazy slow but they were in Niamey. I forgot to mention how bummed I was by Air Morocco changing their flight so they had to spend to days in Paris rather than with me. We pulled into Kollo a little after the first prayer call and just before the sun had completely risen. Omar and Boubacar helped take their bags off the roof of the car and we sat down. I was giddy since (they were here) they had brought me so many goodies aka … beef jerky, popcorn outlet Columbus mix, toys, tuna, all kinds of stuff. I let dad get some sleep and I took Andrew with me, by bush taxi, to Niamey to exchange their money.
Lucky for Andrew we got cabine (the front seat of the bush taxi … with the driver). He didn’t have to sweat next to a complete stranger. Andrew’s hairstyle proved to be quite the attraction. We stopped to take on some passengers and I greeted two women who were staring at us annasaras (white people). One of the ladies asked me what I was doing with a Foolani (a tribe in Niger). Apparently, both fulans and Touaregs have Mohawks. I nicely told them it was no Fulan, it was my brother. They had a great laugh.
Niamey went off without a hitch. We got a city cab to the bank and I showed him the grand and petit marches. We exchanged the money and walked next door to Amendines for some pain au chocolat. We stopped at score for some drink mixes and Gouda cheese …. I had hot money in my pocket so I had to indulge myself a little, right? The bush taxi ride back to Kollo was the exact opposite experience. We were crammed all the way in the back sweating like crazy. We made it back to my house and Andrew crashed immediately on my couch … We didn’t hear a peep from him for the next 5 hours. My boyfriend, Moctar, stopped by and brought lunch for us. It was spaghetti with sauce and 2 huge chickens. It was delicious and so sweet of him. He really liked my dad and they got along great despite the language barrier.
After naptime we walked all the way to Moctar’s house to meet with his family. Moctar even saw us on our way. He was going to buy drinks for us and he passed me on the motorcycle. I told him if he caught us again on his way back that I wanted him to take Andrew on the motorcycle since he’d never ridden one before. Sure enough, just as we were passing the mosque, Moctar showed up. Dad and I kept walking to the house … man it felt much further away with the sun beating down on us. But at least the crazy man had stopped following and shouting at us. When we all met up we watched TV and chatted with Moctar’s dad … I translated. They were both falling asleep but there were no problems. When it came time to go Moctar offered to take us back by motorcycle. I told him not to worry about me and my brother but that he should just take my dad back. He refused so and Andrew and I took a seat outside waiting for our turns. This is why I love this man. He’s so considerate. I can’t imagine how much gas he used up … but I insisted on repaying him (he wouldn’t let me so a few days later I sent him the amount of gas money in the form of cell phone credit insisting it was from my dad).
I told my dad not to eat too much since we were going to my neighbor’s (Cheikna) house for lunch. They made niebe which the typical rice and beans dish. We ate and brought some back for the sleeper. One thing about Niger and hospitality – you will NEVER go hungry when you are someone’s guest. In fact you will be fed so much for your first meal that it will become increasingly different to eat ANY subsequent meals. Just ask Dad and Andrew for verification. I had planned fari masa and sauce for dinner but due to a communication error we now had TWO dinners planned. My friend Hayatou didn’t understand that I said the next night we were coming to his house so his dad rushed out and bought everything for his wives (yes, he has two) to prepare. I felt bad not eating some of the fari masa even though it would still be good in the morning so Dad and I went and each had two. It was delicious and I know that in twenty minutes my dad and Andrew would be suffering from some serious gastric issues. Hayatou’s family went all out for us. Korba Korba, macaroni with sauce, tea, coffee, coke, fried sweet potatoes, chicken!
I’m a bad daughter! I forgot to warn them about the food issues and how to say they were full and be serious. So, as I was hiding in my little corner with my now empty plate, Hayatou’s dad was scooping more and more onto their plates. Finally, after coke, leemu hari, and coffee we rolled ourselves back down the street to my house. I almost prayed for vomit to ensue so that my stomach would feel better. No such luck but I popped some Tums and was alright.
The next day we went to my inspection. On the way I stopped so we could chat with one of my English speaking friends. They loved their Niger experience but I think they wished they could have talked more with everyone. But luckily language barriers don’t stop interaction possibilities …. Greetings and handshakes are huge here. Andrew was fascinated by that concept. We brought popcorn and toothbrushes for my coworkers and then continued on to my counter part’s house. Again we ate so much. They brought us egg sandwiches … silly me I thought this was the lunch … it was just the appetizer. They made us sweet potato fries and chicken (the theme for the week, apparently). Luckily the fries were Andrew’s favorite meal. Before lunch was served we played my favorite card game – huit americains (think uno/crazy 8’s).
Again, they were so full and Abdou’s house is so far that I decided to take them home by bush taxi. Andrew and my dad got cabine and I sat in the back. It wasn’t even close to full. That night we took it easy and ate at Cheikna’s house. Omar was so excited to meet my brother. The poor kid kept coming over but it was always when we were resting. But he took Andrew to go play soccer with him and Boubacar. The only downside to having guests that brings presents are all the unlucky people that don’t receive the gifts … so many people came knocking at my door.
Andrew wore the bubu (men’s long shirt garment) that I brought for him complete with his pink prayer cap. He looked really good. Unfortunately, the one I bought for my dad was too small. When we got to Cheikna’s Maman even put Andrew in a turban and me in a sahari (the Touareg women’s wrap dress).
Wednesday night we went to the river with Cheikna. I had planned to take the kids too and go in a canoe. Well, the kids had pissed Cheikna off so much with their fighting that they were now banned from the trip so it was just the four of us. My dad didn’t want to get in the canoe so my brother and I set off. Unfortunately, the men were not as good at moving the ship as the first man had been. I thought we were going to tip twice. Luckily, we didn’t but we did hit some sandbars. I didn’t realize the water would be that shallow almost in the middle of the river (especially the day after it rained).
Thursday was the most laid back. We didn’t even leave INRAN (my neighborhood) until 5PM. We had lunch at Moctar’s sister’s house. She lives down the street from me and right next to Hayatou. She served them a plate and didn’t force them to eat which they seriously appreciated. She even let us watch her wedding video. That night we ate at Cheikna’s again but this time it was only me. I bought sweet potatoes and meat for them and I told Maman that I’d be the only one eating the maca. Hayatou came over and watched American Dreamz with us. Andrew and I couldn’t sleep so we wended up talking until 2 AM.
At 640 the next morning the car from the inspection arrived (early) to take us to Hamdallaye to visit the training site and my host family. I had planned on spending the night with them but my host dad surprised me and said we’d be sleeping on site in the infirmary where there’s air conditioning. I think Hamdy was my favorite part of the trip. The town is so much quieter and all the people I needed to see came to me. I was so happy to see my host brother, Ismael, back from school in Mali. He’s even planning a visit chez moi in Kollo. We hung out under the hangar and had pop and tea. The tea was too strong for my dad and brother but I drank for them.
Finally, at 5 AM I finally saw my brother’s little mohawked head. Customs is crazy slow but they were in Niamey. I forgot to mention how bummed I was by Air Morocco changing their flight so they had to spend to days in Paris rather than with me. We pulled into Kollo a little after the first prayer call and just before the sun had completely risen. Omar and Boubacar helped take their bags off the roof of the car and we sat down. I was giddy since (they were here) they had brought me so many goodies aka … beef jerky, popcorn outlet Columbus mix, toys, tuna, all kinds of stuff. I let dad get some sleep and I took Andrew with me, by bush taxi, to Niamey to exchange their money.
Lucky for Andrew we got cabine (the front seat of the bush taxi … with the driver). He didn’t have to sweat next to a complete stranger. Andrew’s hairstyle proved to be quite the attraction. We stopped to take on some passengers and I greeted two women who were staring at us annasaras (white people). One of the ladies asked me what I was doing with a Foolani (a tribe in Niger). Apparently, both fulans and Touaregs have Mohawks. I nicely told them it was no Fulan, it was my brother. They had a great laugh.
Niamey went off without a hitch. We got a city cab to the bank and I showed him the grand and petit marches. We exchanged the money and walked next door to Amendines for some pain au chocolat. We stopped at score for some drink mixes and Gouda cheese …. I had hot money in my pocket so I had to indulge myself a little, right? The bush taxi ride back to Kollo was the exact opposite experience. We were crammed all the way in the back sweating like crazy. We made it back to my house and Andrew crashed immediately on my couch … We didn’t hear a peep from him for the next 5 hours. My boyfriend, Moctar, stopped by and brought lunch for us. It was spaghetti with sauce and 2 huge chickens. It was delicious and so sweet of him. He really liked my dad and they got along great despite the language barrier.
After naptime we walked all the way to Moctar’s house to meet with his family. Moctar even saw us on our way. He was going to buy drinks for us and he passed me on the motorcycle. I told him if he caught us again on his way back that I wanted him to take Andrew on the motorcycle since he’d never ridden one before. Sure enough, just as we were passing the mosque, Moctar showed up. Dad and I kept walking to the house … man it felt much further away with the sun beating down on us. But at least the crazy man had stopped following and shouting at us. When we all met up we watched TV and chatted with Moctar’s dad … I translated. They were both falling asleep but there were no problems. When it came time to go Moctar offered to take us back by motorcycle. I told him not to worry about me and my brother but that he should just take my dad back. He refused so and Andrew and I took a seat outside waiting for our turns. This is why I love this man. He’s so considerate. I can’t imagine how much gas he used up … but I insisted on repaying him (he wouldn’t let me so a few days later I sent him the amount of gas money in the form of cell phone credit insisting it was from my dad).
I told my dad not to eat too much since we were going to my neighbor’s (Cheikna) house for lunch. They made niebe which the typical rice and beans dish. We ate and brought some back for the sleeper. One thing about Niger and hospitality – you will NEVER go hungry when you are someone’s guest. In fact you will be fed so much for your first meal that it will become increasingly different to eat ANY subsequent meals. Just ask Dad and Andrew for verification. I had planned fari masa and sauce for dinner but due to a communication error we now had TWO dinners planned. My friend Hayatou didn’t understand that I said the next night we were coming to his house so his dad rushed out and bought everything for his wives (yes, he has two) to prepare. I felt bad not eating some of the fari masa even though it would still be good in the morning so Dad and I went and each had two. It was delicious and I know that in twenty minutes my dad and Andrew would be suffering from some serious gastric issues. Hayatou’s family went all out for us. Korba Korba, macaroni with sauce, tea, coffee, coke, fried sweet potatoes, chicken!
I’m a bad daughter! I forgot to warn them about the food issues and how to say they were full and be serious. So, as I was hiding in my little corner with my now empty plate, Hayatou’s dad was scooping more and more onto their plates. Finally, after coke, leemu hari, and coffee we rolled ourselves back down the street to my house. I almost prayed for vomit to ensue so that my stomach would feel better. No such luck but I popped some Tums and was alright.
The next day we went to my inspection. On the way I stopped so we could chat with one of my English speaking friends. They loved their Niger experience but I think they wished they could have talked more with everyone. But luckily language barriers don’t stop interaction possibilities …. Greetings and handshakes are huge here. Andrew was fascinated by that concept. We brought popcorn and toothbrushes for my coworkers and then continued on to my counter part’s house. Again we ate so much. They brought us egg sandwiches … silly me I thought this was the lunch … it was just the appetizer. They made us sweet potato fries and chicken (the theme for the week, apparently). Luckily the fries were Andrew’s favorite meal. Before lunch was served we played my favorite card game – huit americains (think uno/crazy 8’s).
Again, they were so full and Abdou’s house is so far that I decided to take them home by bush taxi. Andrew and my dad got cabine and I sat in the back. It wasn’t even close to full. That night we took it easy and ate at Cheikna’s house. Omar was so excited to meet my brother. The poor kid kept coming over but it was always when we were resting. But he took Andrew to go play soccer with him and Boubacar. The only downside to having guests that brings presents are all the unlucky people that don’t receive the gifts … so many people came knocking at my door.
Andrew wore the bubu (men’s long shirt garment) that I brought for him complete with his pink prayer cap. He looked really good. Unfortunately, the one I bought for my dad was too small. When we got to Cheikna’s Maman even put Andrew in a turban and me in a sahari (the Touareg women’s wrap dress).
Wednesday night we went to the river with Cheikna. I had planned to take the kids too and go in a canoe. Well, the kids had pissed Cheikna off so much with their fighting that they were now banned from the trip so it was just the four of us. My dad didn’t want to get in the canoe so my brother and I set off. Unfortunately, the men were not as good at moving the ship as the first man had been. I thought we were going to tip twice. Luckily, we didn’t but we did hit some sandbars. I didn’t realize the water would be that shallow almost in the middle of the river (especially the day after it rained).
Thursday was the most laid back. We didn’t even leave INRAN (my neighborhood) until 5PM. We had lunch at Moctar’s sister’s house. She lives down the street from me and right next to Hayatou. She served them a plate and didn’t force them to eat which they seriously appreciated. She even let us watch her wedding video. That night we ate at Cheikna’s again but this time it was only me. I bought sweet potatoes and meat for them and I told Maman that I’d be the only one eating the maca. Hayatou came over and watched American Dreamz with us. Andrew and I couldn’t sleep so we wended up talking until 2 AM.
At 640 the next morning the car from the inspection arrived (early) to take us to Hamdallaye to visit the training site and my host family. I had planned on spending the night with them but my host dad surprised me and said we’d be sleeping on site in the infirmary where there’s air conditioning. I think Hamdy was my favorite part of the trip. The town is so much quieter and all the people I needed to see came to me. I was so happy to see my host brother, Ismael, back from school in Mali. He’s even planning a visit chez moi in Kollo. We hung out under the hangar and had pop and tea. The tea was too strong for my dad and brother but I drank for them.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Return of the Green
The rain has returned and so has the green. I didn't realize how much I missed the color of life. I was riding into Niamey this morning and I couldn't believe how different the landscape looked. I was last in the city two weeks ago and the whole route looks different. Not to mention the amount of dead frogs in the road. I don't mind it though ... it's one less croaking in the middle of the night. I had recently taken to sleeping outside again. I finally found a way of attaching my mosquito net ... this process is actually performed by my friend, Hayatou since he is tall enough to attach the rope to the nail on my wall.
Rainy season also has marked the return of the creepy crawlers. Speaking of insects, I HATE crickets and ciccadas. They are magnets to hair! Sadly, this means that as soon as night falls and I hear the ending theme to Au Coeur du Peche I head inside. I can't even stay long enough to eat dinner. I have to come back for it or the kids bring it to my window. Well, that was until I saw my first snake and now Henett refuses to set foot near my house in the dark.
One night I heard my dog, Leila, barking (sidenote – it takes me much longer to write blogs now as all my words want to exit my mouth in French first ... grr!) I opened the door to see what was wrong. Usually her barking means someone is at my door or she's just crazy. I noticed there was something skinny and black coiled into the nook of my front door. I slammed it shut as quick as I could. Not too eventful thankfully.
With the coming rainy season is also the coming of a new group of people to Niger. I can hardly believe I've been here a year already. It's been full of ups and downs but I'm making it. Sometimes I feel like I'll live with nothing to show (physically) of the work I've done. I haven't had much luck or patience with the avenues for funding. My counterpart is also not very receptive to projects that don't require funding. Luckily I have a great group of friends and neighbors who are always willing to go along for the ride and to take in what I have to offer. Informal activities are my saving grace in this country.
I still go to my inspection (almost) every day but I spend less time there. I go to the middle/high school and make an effort to talk with the professors. I am hoping to start an English club next school year. I have started another project. I'm afraid to even start looking for funding ... this is always the hardest step. The project is a micro-finance group for women in a village called Seikoukou. They organized themselves and have already pulled together enough money to begin constructing a little store. Hopefully, I will be able to help them find funding for a roof. I'll get more information out as soon as I get it translated. I am most likely going to do a Peace Corps partnership fund which means my fellow Americans will be able to help me out.
It is almost vacation time and I absolutely cannot wait to eat myself into a coma as soon as I get back to America, hello Chipotle! But I am more excited for the arrival of my dad and brother to Niger. They will spend a week with me eating, sleeping, and hanging out like I do. It's one thing to see pictures and hear stories but it is quite another to actually get to experience it firsthand. I can't wait for the day they get here. We're going to have a big lunch of fari masa with chicken and sauce. Then I'm taking them to the river to go on a perogue (fishing canoe).
Rainy season also has marked the return of the creepy crawlers. Speaking of insects, I HATE crickets and ciccadas. They are magnets to hair! Sadly, this means that as soon as night falls and I hear the ending theme to Au Coeur du Peche I head inside. I can't even stay long enough to eat dinner. I have to come back for it or the kids bring it to my window. Well, that was until I saw my first snake and now Henett refuses to set foot near my house in the dark.
One night I heard my dog, Leila, barking (sidenote – it takes me much longer to write blogs now as all my words want to exit my mouth in French first ... grr!) I opened the door to see what was wrong. Usually her barking means someone is at my door or she's just crazy. I noticed there was something skinny and black coiled into the nook of my front door. I slammed it shut as quick as I could. Not too eventful thankfully.
With the coming rainy season is also the coming of a new group of people to Niger. I can hardly believe I've been here a year already. It's been full of ups and downs but I'm making it. Sometimes I feel like I'll live with nothing to show (physically) of the work I've done. I haven't had much luck or patience with the avenues for funding. My counterpart is also not very receptive to projects that don't require funding. Luckily I have a great group of friends and neighbors who are always willing to go along for the ride and to take in what I have to offer. Informal activities are my saving grace in this country.
I still go to my inspection (almost) every day but I spend less time there. I go to the middle/high school and make an effort to talk with the professors. I am hoping to start an English club next school year. I have started another project. I'm afraid to even start looking for funding ... this is always the hardest step. The project is a micro-finance group for women in a village called Seikoukou. They organized themselves and have already pulled together enough money to begin constructing a little store. Hopefully, I will be able to help them find funding for a roof. I'll get more information out as soon as I get it translated. I am most likely going to do a Peace Corps partnership fund which means my fellow Americans will be able to help me out.
It is almost vacation time and I absolutely cannot wait to eat myself into a coma as soon as I get back to America, hello Chipotle! But I am more excited for the arrival of my dad and brother to Niger. They will spend a week with me eating, sleeping, and hanging out like I do. It's one thing to see pictures and hear stories but it is quite another to actually get to experience it firsthand. I can't wait for the day they get here. We're going to have a big lunch of fari masa with chicken and sauce. Then I'm taking them to the river to go on a perogue (fishing canoe).
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Trip out East
Ten months in country and here I am making my first trip out East… in fact, my venture out of my region. Trekking across Niger in the back of a Peace Corps ambulance is not the African safari one might envision. There’s not much in the way of scenery. Lots of red sand, dry bushes, a village scattered here and there. There are no lions, no elephants, and no giraffes. Rather the animals on MY Nigerien safari are goats, cows, and donkeys.
Although it’s not quite what I imagined when I heard I’d be living in Africa, there is one undeniable fact. There is a majestic presence in the simplicity of the terrain and its inhabitants. Now, when I use the word simple I do not mean, “oh the simple minded Africans” because in reality the culture here is much more layered and complex. But simple in the vast majority of people expect nothing of you except a sincere greeting. Most Americans would think they’re being taken when someone immediately opens up their home, their world, and their life to them but that is just Niger’s nature.
We pass a small grove, a miniscule oasis. I notice the building shapes have changed. Where I live most building are rectangular where as now the buildings are circular. There is still a lot of mud housing but there is more architecture involving millet stalk. The shape of the buildings tells a lot about the socio-economic status of the village. Rectangular, mud buildings signify a wealthier area.
I stopped writing because the road got bumpy. I arrived in Konni with no problems. The hostel here is just a little different than ours. The biggest difference is that bathroom and shower areas are outside. I wasn’t planning on using a latrine again but you do what you gotta do. The hostel even has a dog! The tallest and sweetest dog in Niger... his name is Gouley. I had hoped to go out with my demysters and see their villages but it didn’t work out that way. My second plan was to go home with a volunteer from my stage. But, she lives pretty far and I’m a somewhat nervous traveler. So I ended up just staying in Konni at the hostel. It worked out in the end because I saw 2 people I knew (one from Hamdallaye and one from Niamey).
On Monday night my friend Karimou beeped me (call and hang up). I hadn’t talked to him in awhile so I decided to call him back. I asked him how his family was (his wife just had a baby a month ago) and he asked me what I was up to. When I told him I was on vacation in Konni he told me that our mutual friend Hama was also in Konni for work. Later that night I got a call from an unknown number. It was HAMA! I was so excited. Karimou must have called to let him know.
The next night Hama came to the hostel to pick me up and show me where he lived and works. It was so close to the hostel. It was so good to see Hama. I know he likes me but we’re able to maintain our friendship. I call him my crazy (ay follokom) and we always end up laughing. I also spent Wednesday night with Hama and some of his friends from work. We talked about all kinds of things and I just looked up at the starts feeling completely content.
Although it’s not quite what I imagined when I heard I’d be living in Africa, there is one undeniable fact. There is a majestic presence in the simplicity of the terrain and its inhabitants. Now, when I use the word simple I do not mean, “oh the simple minded Africans” because in reality the culture here is much more layered and complex. But simple in the vast majority of people expect nothing of you except a sincere greeting. Most Americans would think they’re being taken when someone immediately opens up their home, their world, and their life to them but that is just Niger’s nature.
We pass a small grove, a miniscule oasis. I notice the building shapes have changed. Where I live most building are rectangular where as now the buildings are circular. There is still a lot of mud housing but there is more architecture involving millet stalk. The shape of the buildings tells a lot about the socio-economic status of the village. Rectangular, mud buildings signify a wealthier area.
I stopped writing because the road got bumpy. I arrived in Konni with no problems. The hostel here is just a little different than ours. The biggest difference is that bathroom and shower areas are outside. I wasn’t planning on using a latrine again but you do what you gotta do. The hostel even has a dog! The tallest and sweetest dog in Niger... his name is Gouley. I had hoped to go out with my demysters and see their villages but it didn’t work out that way. My second plan was to go home with a volunteer from my stage. But, she lives pretty far and I’m a somewhat nervous traveler. So I ended up just staying in Konni at the hostel. It worked out in the end because I saw 2 people I knew (one from Hamdallaye and one from Niamey).
On Monday night my friend Karimou beeped me (call and hang up). I hadn’t talked to him in awhile so I decided to call him back. I asked him how his family was (his wife just had a baby a month ago) and he asked me what I was up to. When I told him I was on vacation in Konni he told me that our mutual friend Hama was also in Konni for work. Later that night I got a call from an unknown number. It was HAMA! I was so excited. Karimou must have called to let him know.
The next night Hama came to the hostel to pick me up and show me where he lived and works. It was so close to the hostel. It was so good to see Hama. I know he likes me but we’re able to maintain our friendship. I call him my crazy (ay follokom) and we always end up laughing. I also spent Wednesday night with Hama and some of his friends from work. We talked about all kinds of things and I just looked up at the starts feeling completely content.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Recent Activities + Homesickness
Wow - so in one week I will be 23! I joke with people that I'm officially old and while I know that it's not true ... I can't help but feeling a little old. Speaking of old, Joshua (my youngest brother) turned seven yesterday. What a little man! I am trying to think of another time when I've been on my own for my birthday. College doesn't really count because you go out with your friends and I still managed to see my family on or around the actual day.
Here I am in Niger, almost at the 23rd and though I am surrounded by friends and a surrogate family here I still can't help but feeling a little homesick. This feeling is compounded by the stress stemming from a lack of measurable success. I feel perfecftly content knowing that I am VERY integrated but if someone happened to look at me in Kollo they might think all I do is hang out. The truth is I've got so many ideas, even a few in real stages of movement (i.e. awaiting funding, permission from school directors) but for whatever reason nothing is completely getting off the ground. Now, this lesson has been pounded into our heads since day one. I know things are slow but I want so bad to be able to feel a huge success.
For the moment, I am counting all my small successes (these are probably the ones I'll remember most, anyways) such as being able to have a complete conversation in Zarma, being greeted by almost everyone on my way to work, cadeaus, kids art ...
Also, I want to thank everyone who have been sending letters and packages. They make my weeks and months here. Just a funny story to share. A few packages ago I received a bag of Skittles. Now I had been craving these so bad that as soon as I got home I ripped open the bag and went through 1/4 of it. Now, in the heat of the moment this seemed like a good day.... The rest of the night I spent moaning on my couch about a tummy ache (this was in between the fitful boughts of sugar-induced coma). But true to form, I repeated this same action four days in a row. I can't really tell you if I honestly expected different results.
Now recent activities:
In a bid to have something concrete to do each day (besides making an appearance at my inspection) I am trying to host an English study table and club. The director was making it very hard on me to just do the table like I wanted (an open forum for students to come to me ... on school grounds ... for help with homework). He wanted me to lock a number down for a group but I struck a compromise and am now doing both a club and a study table. But - I won't know for another week if he'll actually let me use the (abandoned) library as my workspace. None the less I am excited to have something to plan and look forward to three times a week!
I have one field trip and one book club waiting on funding. Keep your fingers crossed. I am still researching book donation sources as well as trying to carve out details on an art project I want to do. My neighborhood kids love drawing with me and I want to do something with that.
I also recently got to host two demysters (demystification was when the trainees got to spend a weekend with a volunteer to see what life is like for them). This wasn't quite typical since the two new volunteers were transfers from Madagascar. They had been there for 9 months but none the less it was a good time. I literally gained 3 pounds from all the food. My counterpart made us hashed chicken and kudu ku (sweet potato fries). My neighbor made us chicken and rice, and another neighbor made us masa and macaroni with meat sauce. We walked around Kollo and stopped at all my usual hang outs. We went to the Sunday market and took a tour of the river. That was a first for me and I enjoyed it as much as they did. We followed it up with dance parties on my porch to Nigerien music. Don't forget all the leemy haari (mmm popsicles)
Here I am in Niger, almost at the 23rd and though I am surrounded by friends and a surrogate family here I still can't help but feeling a little homesick. This feeling is compounded by the stress stemming from a lack of measurable success. I feel perfecftly content knowing that I am VERY integrated but if someone happened to look at me in Kollo they might think all I do is hang out. The truth is I've got so many ideas, even a few in real stages of movement (i.e. awaiting funding, permission from school directors) but for whatever reason nothing is completely getting off the ground. Now, this lesson has been pounded into our heads since day one. I know things are slow but I want so bad to be able to feel a huge success.
For the moment, I am counting all my small successes (these are probably the ones I'll remember most, anyways) such as being able to have a complete conversation in Zarma, being greeted by almost everyone on my way to work, cadeaus, kids art ...
Also, I want to thank everyone who have been sending letters and packages. They make my weeks and months here. Just a funny story to share. A few packages ago I received a bag of Skittles. Now I had been craving these so bad that as soon as I got home I ripped open the bag and went through 1/4 of it. Now, in the heat of the moment this seemed like a good day.... The rest of the night I spent moaning on my couch about a tummy ache (this was in between the fitful boughts of sugar-induced coma). But true to form, I repeated this same action four days in a row. I can't really tell you if I honestly expected different results.
Now recent activities:
In a bid to have something concrete to do each day (besides making an appearance at my inspection) I am trying to host an English study table and club. The director was making it very hard on me to just do the table like I wanted (an open forum for students to come to me ... on school grounds ... for help with homework). He wanted me to lock a number down for a group but I struck a compromise and am now doing both a club and a study table. But - I won't know for another week if he'll actually let me use the (abandoned) library as my workspace. None the less I am excited to have something to plan and look forward to three times a week!
I have one field trip and one book club waiting on funding. Keep your fingers crossed. I am still researching book donation sources as well as trying to carve out details on an art project I want to do. My neighborhood kids love drawing with me and I want to do something with that.
I also recently got to host two demysters (demystification was when the trainees got to spend a weekend with a volunteer to see what life is like for them). This wasn't quite typical since the two new volunteers were transfers from Madagascar. They had been there for 9 months but none the less it was a good time. I literally gained 3 pounds from all the food. My counterpart made us hashed chicken and kudu ku (sweet potato fries). My neighbor made us chicken and rice, and another neighbor made us masa and macaroni with meat sauce. We walked around Kollo and stopped at all my usual hang outs. We went to the Sunday market and took a tour of the river. That was a first for me and I enjoyed it as much as they did. We followed it up with dance parties on my porch to Nigerien music. Don't forget all the leemy haari (mmm popsicles)
Friday, March 13, 2009
Allahou Akbarou
As normal, she awoke seven minutes before the cry of her alarm. For whatever reason it was always seven minutes. She could accept this as a sacrifice. She was content that after only three weeks in country she could sleep through the first call to prayer, you know, the one at five AM. The first day in her village was the only time this immunity failed her. Granted, she was not accustomed to the loud speaker that screeched and crackled. If, “Allahou Ahkbar…” were the words she were to wake up to she would have much preferred to hear her neighbor’s deep, flowing voice like in Hamdallaye.
She flopped over, momentarily surprised when she didn’t hear the creak of her Hausa bed beneath her weight. Then she remembered, “I’m in Kollo now. I have a real house and a REAL bed”. A sleepy smile crept across her face. She most certainly did not miss having to set up her bed every day. Chalk it up to American laziness following her to Niger. However, sleeping outside had fascinated her for at least the first few weeks in country.
In Hamdallaye, she would carry her mattress out of her hut and place it on the twin sized Linkin’ Logs set also known as a “Hausa bed”. She would unfold her sheet, lay her pillow down, and throw anything else in that she didn’t want to try and hold when she would eventually squeeze under her mosquito net. Most days she was diligent about performing this task before night fell and the insects emerged. Crickets were the worst. They would fling themselves recklessly onto her half raised net, her clothes, and (wretch) her hair.
After the masa incident her third week of training, crickets were public enemy number one. She had ventured to the market that rainy morning craving the millet griddlecakes with sugar AND tonko. With her prize in hand she walked up to the training site, her mouth watering the whole way. If she had been in America she would have devoured the bag on her walk. But, in Niger, eating while walking was considered a faux pas most likely due to the social nature of mealtime.
She finished most of the masa in the refectoire but took the rest with her to French class. As soon as she put the cake into her mouth she knew something was different. She pulled the stiff, prickly culprit off of her tongue and examined it. Wedged between her thump and pointer finger was the leg of a cricket!! “Please let me find the rest of this,” she repeated rapidly in her head. Sure enough, a legless cricket (most likely steamed to death) lay at the bottom of the plastic bag. She looked to her teacher for sympathy. The woman was scared of caterpillars for goodness sake. Yet there was no sympathy to be found. In its’ place was a stifled smile. She had nearly choked on the one thing the teacher was not afraid of. Go figure, the irony tickled her pink. Maria was not scared, she said, “Because we eat crickets here.”
Chuckling at the memory, she turned onto her back and sat up, the fan blasting her in the face. In two swift sweeps she gathered her hair, having slightly dampened from perspiration during the night, from her neck and into a hair tie. Mornings were her favorite part of the day, even more so during the month of Ramadan. She would walk to her inspection, the heat would be minimal, and her villagers would be in full swing. Their stomachs were still full from having gorged between 4:30 and 5:30 AM. Fatigue wouldn’t set in until at least eleven when the heat began to oppress.
With each day she was more confident with her greetings. “Mate ni kani? … Mate gaham? … Mate goyo? … Mate fu?” She loved the way they threw the greetings together, barely waiting for the response of, “samay samay” (fine, fine). It felt like a competition and she was just glad she could finally be a contestant. If only she had a 100 CFA piece for every time she’d heard, “kala suuru” (have patience). In reality, language was the largest barrier. As an education volunteer she needed French but as a member of her village she needed Zarma. Her situation was a little more complicated than most. At the start of training she had been a Hausa speaker. Once again, this change in plans turned out to be a worthwhile sacrifice. But it was the times when she couldn’t find the words in either Zarma or French when she suffered in silence, literally. These moments, even though rare, deeply affected her identity … my identity.
She flopped over, momentarily surprised when she didn’t hear the creak of her Hausa bed beneath her weight. Then she remembered, “I’m in Kollo now. I have a real house and a REAL bed”. A sleepy smile crept across her face. She most certainly did not miss having to set up her bed every day. Chalk it up to American laziness following her to Niger. However, sleeping outside had fascinated her for at least the first few weeks in country.
In Hamdallaye, she would carry her mattress out of her hut and place it on the twin sized Linkin’ Logs set also known as a “Hausa bed”. She would unfold her sheet, lay her pillow down, and throw anything else in that she didn’t want to try and hold when she would eventually squeeze under her mosquito net. Most days she was diligent about performing this task before night fell and the insects emerged. Crickets were the worst. They would fling themselves recklessly onto her half raised net, her clothes, and (wretch) her hair.
After the masa incident her third week of training, crickets were public enemy number one. She had ventured to the market that rainy morning craving the millet griddlecakes with sugar AND tonko. With her prize in hand she walked up to the training site, her mouth watering the whole way. If she had been in America she would have devoured the bag on her walk. But, in Niger, eating while walking was considered a faux pas most likely due to the social nature of mealtime.
She finished most of the masa in the refectoire but took the rest with her to French class. As soon as she put the cake into her mouth she knew something was different. She pulled the stiff, prickly culprit off of her tongue and examined it. Wedged between her thump and pointer finger was the leg of a cricket!! “Please let me find the rest of this,” she repeated rapidly in her head. Sure enough, a legless cricket (most likely steamed to death) lay at the bottom of the plastic bag. She looked to her teacher for sympathy. The woman was scared of caterpillars for goodness sake. Yet there was no sympathy to be found. In its’ place was a stifled smile. She had nearly choked on the one thing the teacher was not afraid of. Go figure, the irony tickled her pink. Maria was not scared, she said, “Because we eat crickets here.”
Chuckling at the memory, she turned onto her back and sat up, the fan blasting her in the face. In two swift sweeps she gathered her hair, having slightly dampened from perspiration during the night, from her neck and into a hair tie. Mornings were her favorite part of the day, even more so during the month of Ramadan. She would walk to her inspection, the heat would be minimal, and her villagers would be in full swing. Their stomachs were still full from having gorged between 4:30 and 5:30 AM. Fatigue wouldn’t set in until at least eleven when the heat began to oppress.
With each day she was more confident with her greetings. “Mate ni kani? … Mate gaham? … Mate goyo? … Mate fu?” She loved the way they threw the greetings together, barely waiting for the response of, “samay samay” (fine, fine). It felt like a competition and she was just glad she could finally be a contestant. If only she had a 100 CFA piece for every time she’d heard, “kala suuru” (have patience). In reality, language was the largest barrier. As an education volunteer she needed French but as a member of her village she needed Zarma. Her situation was a little more complicated than most. At the start of training she had been a Hausa speaker. Once again, this change in plans turned out to be a worthwhile sacrifice. But it was the times when she couldn’t find the words in either Zarma or French when she suffered in silence, literally. These moments, even though rare, deeply affected her identity … my identity.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
She's coming to Americ-uhhhh
I’m coming home (for a little while anyways). There are only 131 short days until I step foot in Ohio. I believe that I have reached the point of integration. The “When There is no PCMO” (Peace Corps Medical Officer) handbook says there are 4 stages of cultural adaptation. The first is being fascinated and excited by the things that are new. The second is when this excitement is replaced by frustration. The third stage is when you are in your post and you are taking the first steps to integration i.e. practicing your language as well as trying AND failing at cultural activities. The final stage is when you can successfully navigate your community and culture.
So I can only imagine that I will have to go through these four stages again when I get back to America. Only this time I will be on warp speed. I mean I only have three weeks to re-adjust … momentarily… to American culture. I’ve already accepted the fact that I will probably end up crying at least ten times. I started reading a book by Brigid Keenan titled, “Diplomatic Baggage”. Granted I am NOT an ex-pat wife but I can completely understand her angle of uprooting herself and then having to question her decision she is faced with something new and most of the time scary.
I got to thinking that I’ve really handled the situation well. I’ve been very lucky in that I live in a relatively Westernized area of Niger. I mean, I’m only thirty kilometers from Niamey. I have indoor plumbing (ignore the fact that my water has been cut off for two months) and I don’t have to wear typical Nigerien woman garb unlike some of my peers. Today I was very amused when I started listing off the things that I’ve seen and done that some people would never imagine.
How many people can say that they drink their morning coffee or tea out of a plastic bag? How often do you see a donkey cart trotting along beside a car? And camels? Well, I mean, where do you see them other than in a zoo or on the side of a cigarette carton? Here’s some Western versus Eastern perspective for you:
Each morning I wake up to my cell phone alarm (W)
I ride my bike to my job (W but more eastern since it’s not a car)
I buy my breakfast food from a woman sitting on the side of the road and it comes in plastic bags (E = open cook stoves are not the same as street vendors and how many street vendors do you see in Westerville, OH?)
Every woman around me is covered head to toe in beautiful (HOT) fabrics even though the temperatures almost always surpass 100 degrees F. (E)
Donkey carts (E)
Lack of power and or cell phone coverage from noon until 4 PM (E)
Street children singing in Arabic trying to earn some food (E)
Handicapped and mentally ill people wandering the streets with no help (W/E)
Buttas (for those of you not yet acquainted with this word: it is a plastic tea kettle used to hold word for abolitions during prayer, as well as washing your hands and private parts after using the toilet) (E)
Marriages where the bride and groom aren’t even in the same city (E)
Men mumbling along to American songs thinking they’re all that but you can’t help laughing because they don’t know 1) how to pronounce or 2) the meaning of the words they are attempting to sing. (E)
Eating with my hands (E) but that is cancelled out by the fact that most of the time I am given a spoon.
“Fofo, anassara” – would it ever be acceptable in America to walk down the street and say “greetings white person” … I don’t think so (E)
“Cadeau, cadeau” (E) Westerners like giving gifts but in day-to-day life most things are given as exchanges.
Leemu haari – plastic bag popsicles aka pieces of heaven (E)
Yogurt in a bag (E)
Frarma and franglais (E) people here are so much better with languages.
Items in the market are more expensive for me therefore I have to send a child with my money to shop for me (E)
The obvious nature of communication. “Hey you’re riding your bike to work” … thanks for pointing out what I already know. (E)
Having slow internet is more frustrating than having no internet at all (E)
No markets are indoor except for in regional capitals (E)
Bush taxis = cars that defy all laws of safety yet still manage to get you where you need to go (E)
Tea making requires three cycles with a mini tea pot (E)
The list is funnier in my head but granted, I’m the one who really understands what all this feels like. I try to explain it but without living it a little bit the experience is kind of lost in translation. Kai, quelle dommage! One of my biggest fears is not having anything to talk about when I get home. I mean, I’ll have stories but I don’t know how many of them will be interesting outside of the Peace Corps community. That’s why I hope all of you look at my pictures. Then you can start preparing interesting questions for me to answer (so much easier than me just rambling on).
The things I most look forward to generally revolve around the sharing of culture. I can’t wait to watch a LONG slideshow of all my Africa photos thus far. I can’t wait to give out my souvenirs (jewelry, figurines, clothes, toys), and I especially am very excited to burn CDs of my favorite African music for all my friends.
So I can only imagine that I will have to go through these four stages again when I get back to America. Only this time I will be on warp speed. I mean I only have three weeks to re-adjust … momentarily… to American culture. I’ve already accepted the fact that I will probably end up crying at least ten times. I started reading a book by Brigid Keenan titled, “Diplomatic Baggage”. Granted I am NOT an ex-pat wife but I can completely understand her angle of uprooting herself and then having to question her decision she is faced with something new and most of the time scary.
I got to thinking that I’ve really handled the situation well. I’ve been very lucky in that I live in a relatively Westernized area of Niger. I mean, I’m only thirty kilometers from Niamey. I have indoor plumbing (ignore the fact that my water has been cut off for two months) and I don’t have to wear typical Nigerien woman garb unlike some of my peers. Today I was very amused when I started listing off the things that I’ve seen and done that some people would never imagine.
How many people can say that they drink their morning coffee or tea out of a plastic bag? How often do you see a donkey cart trotting along beside a car? And camels? Well, I mean, where do you see them other than in a zoo or on the side of a cigarette carton? Here’s some Western versus Eastern perspective for you:
Each morning I wake up to my cell phone alarm (W)
I ride my bike to my job (W but more eastern since it’s not a car)
I buy my breakfast food from a woman sitting on the side of the road and it comes in plastic bags (E = open cook stoves are not the same as street vendors and how many street vendors do you see in Westerville, OH?)
Every woman around me is covered head to toe in beautiful (HOT) fabrics even though the temperatures almost always surpass 100 degrees F. (E)
Donkey carts (E)
Lack of power and or cell phone coverage from noon until 4 PM (E)
Street children singing in Arabic trying to earn some food (E)
Handicapped and mentally ill people wandering the streets with no help (W/E)
Buttas (for those of you not yet acquainted with this word: it is a plastic tea kettle used to hold word for abolitions during prayer, as well as washing your hands and private parts after using the toilet) (E)
Marriages where the bride and groom aren’t even in the same city (E)
Men mumbling along to American songs thinking they’re all that but you can’t help laughing because they don’t know 1) how to pronounce or 2) the meaning of the words they are attempting to sing. (E)
Eating with my hands (E) but that is cancelled out by the fact that most of the time I am given a spoon.
“Fofo, anassara” – would it ever be acceptable in America to walk down the street and say “greetings white person” … I don’t think so (E)
“Cadeau, cadeau” (E) Westerners like giving gifts but in day-to-day life most things are given as exchanges.
Leemu haari – plastic bag popsicles aka pieces of heaven (E)
Yogurt in a bag (E)
Frarma and franglais (E) people here are so much better with languages.
Items in the market are more expensive for me therefore I have to send a child with my money to shop for me (E)
The obvious nature of communication. “Hey you’re riding your bike to work” … thanks for pointing out what I already know. (E)
Having slow internet is more frustrating than having no internet at all (E)
No markets are indoor except for in regional capitals (E)
Bush taxis = cars that defy all laws of safety yet still manage to get you where you need to go (E)
Tea making requires three cycles with a mini tea pot (E)
The list is funnier in my head but granted, I’m the one who really understands what all this feels like. I try to explain it but without living it a little bit the experience is kind of lost in translation. Kai, quelle dommage! One of my biggest fears is not having anything to talk about when I get home. I mean, I’ll have stories but I don’t know how many of them will be interesting outside of the Peace Corps community. That’s why I hope all of you look at my pictures. Then you can start preparing interesting questions for me to answer (so much easier than me just rambling on).
The things I most look forward to generally revolve around the sharing of culture. I can’t wait to watch a LONG slideshow of all my Africa photos thus far. I can’t wait to give out my souvenirs (jewelry, figurines, clothes, toys), and I especially am very excited to burn CDs of my favorite African music for all my friends.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
My arms hurt from the crutches!
Another week in Niamey… I hate coming into the city so much but usually I can get in and out without having to spend too much time away from Kollo. This week I am in town for training. I have a volunteer friend who has now extended into a third year of service and she is now working for an NGO called PRAHN. They are associated with CBM. The organization started off servicing the blind in third world countries and eventually came to encompass many other disabilities. I have been really intrigued by the material and I’m hoping I can work on inclusion in Kollo. When I was doing my school observations I noticed that there were some handicapped children, mostly physical handicaps. I know that there are many more children in my village and I wonder why it is that they don’t go to school. The reasons are actually very obvious. The culture that I live in is very influenced by public opinion and shame. There’s a lot of superstition which is something I’ve found very hard to combat.
Unfortunately, I had to miss part of the training today. After 8 months in country I have finally experienced amoebas … dun dun dun … It’s actually not as bad as what I’ve heard. I mean everyone’s different. Apparently, I have iron stomach. I think I’ve actually been sick for awhile but only now was it serious enough to give me cause to check it out. I started my medicine today and aside from stomach cramps I’m doing alright. I’ve stayed most of the day inside our bureau. It was a much better option than the hostel. I mean it’s air conditioned and today it was really quiet.
I am a little more tired today which is no fun. On the rare times I do overnights in Niamey I have dinner at the same place. It’s a little “diner” called Continental Breakfast. I know the whole staff there and most nights we play cards until the place closes down. Tonight I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay out. For one, I’m exhausted and two, they don’t have ANY sort of bathroom, latrine or anything so if I have to go to the bathroom I’d have to make the walk back to the hostel.
This weekend I am taking my friend Ricky back to Kollo with me. That means I’ll probably also follow him back to his village. I have been there before but it was only a twenty minute stop. I’m a nervous traveler (the first time I go anywhere) and then I’m fine. We’re going to hang out with my neighbors and make neibit (rice and beans … delicious). We’ll probably have tea and stay up most of the night. I hope my amoebas don’t block that too much for me!
Unfortunately, I had to miss part of the training today. After 8 months in country I have finally experienced amoebas … dun dun dun … It’s actually not as bad as what I’ve heard. I mean everyone’s different. Apparently, I have iron stomach. I think I’ve actually been sick for awhile but only now was it serious enough to give me cause to check it out. I started my medicine today and aside from stomach cramps I’m doing alright. I’ve stayed most of the day inside our bureau. It was a much better option than the hostel. I mean it’s air conditioned and today it was really quiet.
I am a little more tired today which is no fun. On the rare times I do overnights in Niamey I have dinner at the same place. It’s a little “diner” called Continental Breakfast. I know the whole staff there and most nights we play cards until the place closes down. Tonight I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay out. For one, I’m exhausted and two, they don’t have ANY sort of bathroom, latrine or anything so if I have to go to the bathroom I’d have to make the walk back to the hostel.
This weekend I am taking my friend Ricky back to Kollo with me. That means I’ll probably also follow him back to his village. I have been there before but it was only a twenty minute stop. I’m a nervous traveler (the first time I go anywhere) and then I’m fine. We’re going to hang out with my neighbors and make neibit (rice and beans … delicious). We’ll probably have tea and stay up most of the night. I hope my amoebas don’t block that too much for me!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
random blurb on my random life
What have I been up to lately? It feels like forever since I’ve been on the internet but that’s not necessarily true. After IST (I had an amazing time living with my host family again) I participated in camp Hamdallaye. It was weird to be around 30 or so kids who all spoke English. We were working with kids from the American School in Niamey. It was fun but I spent the week in utter misery. I thought this was supposed to be the land of diarrhea. Let me tell you, I would take diarrhea over constipation ANY day.
I ended up rushing myself home just so I could lay in bed and pray for my bowels to start functioning again. Once they did, all was well in Niger (well in my world, that is). I went back to work at the inspection and tried using the internet at IPDR, the technical school. As my luck would have it the electricty cut off right as I was hitting enter to check my email. This has happened on numerous occasions but I was starting to feel cursed. Luckily, the next day I was able to get on. But slow internet is more frustrating than no internet at all.
Okay – now – what I have been up to. I have mostly been laying low, still trying to find more out about where I live. I did more school visits and attended a CAPED meeting which is basically teacher in-service day where they review the curriculum and teacher strategies although not much of this actually happened.
Valentine’s Day was cute. I went to a soiree (dance) at IPDR with a group of friends, one of whom has a crush on me. We danced the night away and I made it back home by 4AM! This is not a usual occurance.
It’s getting hotter and hotter which completely zaps my energy. I used to find reasons to get out and just ride my bike but now its so hot. My puppy is gaining weight. I got her after IST. She was a stray who would always hang around with the gaurds outside our hostel. I told them I wanted her and they caught her for me and kept her until I was ready to go to Kollo. I named her Leila. She’s much more of a happy dog now. She is crazy at night … again a result of the heat I think. She lays wround all day in the shade and then is ready to run when night falls and it cools off. I’ve had some pretty funny looks when I’ve been out walking her. Ticks have also been an interesting new experience. I’d never seen a tick before and one day I was petting Leila when I noticed something green on her neck. I thought it was a tumor but the next day it had disappeared. Then a few days later it was back and I was kind of scared.
I have also planned my trip home! I will get home the 22nd of July and head back to Niger the 10th of August. I am soooo excited but also nervous. I lost 50 pounds and I have a feeling I will be gaining a lot back … I mean the plan for my first night is to hit the Wendy’s in the airport, have a real dinner at Chipotle and pass out after a Tim Horton’s iced cappucino. But, considering I want to look good for Shiree’s wedding I will probably take it easy until the week after her wedding!
Still working on translating mass amounts of half written project ideas … basically I suck at life but I’m having a good time.
I ended up rushing myself home just so I could lay in bed and pray for my bowels to start functioning again. Once they did, all was well in Niger (well in my world, that is). I went back to work at the inspection and tried using the internet at IPDR, the technical school. As my luck would have it the electricty cut off right as I was hitting enter to check my email. This has happened on numerous occasions but I was starting to feel cursed. Luckily, the next day I was able to get on. But slow internet is more frustrating than no internet at all.
Okay – now – what I have been up to. I have mostly been laying low, still trying to find more out about where I live. I did more school visits and attended a CAPED meeting which is basically teacher in-service day where they review the curriculum and teacher strategies although not much of this actually happened.
Valentine’s Day was cute. I went to a soiree (dance) at IPDR with a group of friends, one of whom has a crush on me. We danced the night away and I made it back home by 4AM! This is not a usual occurance.
It’s getting hotter and hotter which completely zaps my energy. I used to find reasons to get out and just ride my bike but now its so hot. My puppy is gaining weight. I got her after IST. She was a stray who would always hang around with the gaurds outside our hostel. I told them I wanted her and they caught her for me and kept her until I was ready to go to Kollo. I named her Leila. She’s much more of a happy dog now. She is crazy at night … again a result of the heat I think. She lays wround all day in the shade and then is ready to run when night falls and it cools off. I’ve had some pretty funny looks when I’ve been out walking her. Ticks have also been an interesting new experience. I’d never seen a tick before and one day I was petting Leila when I noticed something green on her neck. I thought it was a tumor but the next day it had disappeared. Then a few days later it was back and I was kind of scared.
I have also planned my trip home! I will get home the 22nd of July and head back to Niger the 10th of August. I am soooo excited but also nervous. I lost 50 pounds and I have a feeling I will be gaining a lot back … I mean the plan for my first night is to hit the Wendy’s in the airport, have a real dinner at Chipotle and pass out after a Tim Horton’s iced cappucino. But, considering I want to look good for Shiree’s wedding I will probably take it easy until the week after her wedding!
Still working on translating mass amounts of half written project ideas … basically I suck at life but I’m having a good time.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Life in a Plastic Bag
I find it funny how many things require plastic bags in this country think clear plastic, no zip locks. For example I literally had one day where everything I ate or drank came from a plastic bag. Breakfast - yogurt in a bag (not my favorite but it was free) beans with mayo and bread (because I went back to the inspection rather than eating it there I was forced to eat out of the bag because there were no utensils or bowls to be found) Lunch - egg sandwich carried home in plastic bag. Leemu hari (Nigerien popsicle in which you bite a corner off the bag and push the icy juice through). Dinner was kudu ku (sweet potatoes) which I bought in the market and then made into hors d'oeurves (think Nigerien potato salad).
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Tolerance in Niger
Tolerance is a tricky concept. The Nigerien people are constantly telling each other (and me) to "kala suuru" or "say hankuri" which in Zarma and Hausa mean "have patience". What then is tolerance and where is the line between patience and tolerance? Loosely, I can understand tolerance as having the patience and fortitude to accept others, no matter how different they are.
This how reflection started a few weeks ago when a good friend of mine (http://www.sheswhy.org/) asked me about the state of Special Education and Disability services in Niger. From a concrete standpoint, there wasn't much to work on. I did some research and found a report from the US Department of State (http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2003/27742.htm) Under the section of persons with disabilities the report states:
"The Constitution mandates that the State provide for persons with disabilities; however, the Government had not implemented regulations to mandate accessibility to buildings, transportation, and education for those with special needs. Societal discrimination against persons with disabilities existed. Observers reported that many persons with mental disabilities were rejected by their families due to the stigma surrounding mental illness in the country. "
To almost every extent this is still true. There is a stark contrast between Niamey and where I live in Kollo (which in all American standards is not much less than a suburb of Niamey) In the city you see many a person in wheel chairs which actually look like hand pedaled bicycles. There is no obvious attempts for accessability. The roads are hard for cars to travel on and side walks are merely lots of sand that are difficult for the able bodied to trudge through.
In Kollo, the most often seen disability is the "fou(le)" are mentally ill. There is most certainly a stigma to mental illness and most of it stems from ignorance and the conflicting beliefs as to what actually causes mental illness. I have a few personal examples of my experience with the mentally ill in Kollo. The first is of a woman I see every day. She lives outside, wears the same pagne (wrap skirt) everyday and is usually seen talking and laughing to herself or searching through the Ecogar (motorpark) for food. One time I was walking home and she followed me screaming "Ca va, Ca va?" I was a little alarmed more by how loud she was screaming into my ear. A man passing told me to be careful because she thought my bag was food and then he got inbetween us and kicked sand at her. I told him that wasn't necessary and that I could handle myself. A few weeks later I was sitting with a group of friends and I was drawing. The woman was across the street and for whatever reason I am always drawn to this particular woman. I started sketching her. Someone asked me why I would ever want to keep that picture as a memory. I explained to him that just because one person doesn't see beauty or life in another person doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.
Another time I was followed by a young woman in the market. She didn't talk to me but stayed close behind me. I was with my neighbor kids and they were scared to death. They told me to give her money and she would leave me alone. I told them that everything was okay and that they didn't need to worry. They had such fear for a person that it was hard for them to understand. I explained to them in French that I didn't have a reason to fear her because I understood that's how she was born and after I understood that I wasn't scared.
Now for some positive experiences. When I was observing in the schools I paid special attention to see if there were students with disabilities and, if so, what kind of materials were they given to aid the learning process. The second school I visited started off much like the first. They start the day with recreation time where the students go outside and run. One girl sat out because her right leg was a bit shorter which caused her to limp. Most of the time she sat with nothing to do. The teacher then gave her a job of collecting all the other student's snack money. While it gave her something to accomplish, afterwards she went back to doing nothing but watching.
In the class she was very confident and the teacher called on her many times and her answers were always correct. There was little that she couldn't do in class.
I'd be very interested to talk to some teachers about their exposure to pedagogy relating to mental and physical disabilities. For now all I can do is observe and impart my perspective whenever the oppurtunity arises.
This how reflection started a few weeks ago when a good friend of mine (http://www.sheswhy.org/) asked me about the state of Special Education and Disability services in Niger. From a concrete standpoint, there wasn't much to work on. I did some research and found a report from the US Department of State (http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2003/27742.htm) Under the section of persons with disabilities the report states:
"The Constitution mandates that the State provide for persons with disabilities; however, the Government had not implemented regulations to mandate accessibility to buildings, transportation, and education for those with special needs. Societal discrimination against persons with disabilities existed. Observers reported that many persons with mental disabilities were rejected by their families due to the stigma surrounding mental illness in the country. "
To almost every extent this is still true. There is a stark contrast between Niamey and where I live in Kollo (which in all American standards is not much less than a suburb of Niamey) In the city you see many a person in wheel chairs which actually look like hand pedaled bicycles. There is no obvious attempts for accessability. The roads are hard for cars to travel on and side walks are merely lots of sand that are difficult for the able bodied to trudge through.
In Kollo, the most often seen disability is the "fou(le)" are mentally ill. There is most certainly a stigma to mental illness and most of it stems from ignorance and the conflicting beliefs as to what actually causes mental illness. I have a few personal examples of my experience with the mentally ill in Kollo. The first is of a woman I see every day. She lives outside, wears the same pagne (wrap skirt) everyday and is usually seen talking and laughing to herself or searching through the Ecogar (motorpark) for food. One time I was walking home and she followed me screaming "Ca va, Ca va?" I was a little alarmed more by how loud she was screaming into my ear. A man passing told me to be careful because she thought my bag was food and then he got inbetween us and kicked sand at her. I told him that wasn't necessary and that I could handle myself. A few weeks later I was sitting with a group of friends and I was drawing. The woman was across the street and for whatever reason I am always drawn to this particular woman. I started sketching her. Someone asked me why I would ever want to keep that picture as a memory. I explained to him that just because one person doesn't see beauty or life in another person doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.
Another time I was followed by a young woman in the market. She didn't talk to me but stayed close behind me. I was with my neighbor kids and they were scared to death. They told me to give her money and she would leave me alone. I told them that everything was okay and that they didn't need to worry. They had such fear for a person that it was hard for them to understand. I explained to them in French that I didn't have a reason to fear her because I understood that's how she was born and after I understood that I wasn't scared.
Now for some positive experiences. When I was observing in the schools I paid special attention to see if there were students with disabilities and, if so, what kind of materials were they given to aid the learning process. The second school I visited started off much like the first. They start the day with recreation time where the students go outside and run. One girl sat out because her right leg was a bit shorter which caused her to limp. Most of the time she sat with nothing to do. The teacher then gave her a job of collecting all the other student's snack money. While it gave her something to accomplish, afterwards she went back to doing nothing but watching.
In the class she was very confident and the teacher called on her many times and her answers were always correct. There was little that she couldn't do in class.
I'd be very interested to talk to some teachers about their exposure to pedagogy relating to mental and physical disabilities. For now all I can do is observe and impart my perspective whenever the oppurtunity arises.
Holidays in Niger
I’ll admit that I wasn’t very enthusiastic about the holidays. There’s no snow, it’s hot, my iPod was broken which means no Christmas music. I felt like a Nigerien grinch. Not really … that’s just for effect. BUT, I received a package from my family full of XMas goodies, including a small tree. When I got back to Kollo that night my sisters (this is how I refer to the daughters of my neighbor, Cheikna were beyond excited. My sisters include Messara (25), Henett (17), Talit (12), and Nany (9). It was Nany and Talit who were the ones helping me set up and decorate the tree. We looked through old magazines to find pictures of Christmas-y things and then taped them to the wall behind the tree. It turned out really cute. Now that I have a camera again I will take pictures before I take it down. It was still three weeks until Christmas but I constantly fielded questions about what kind of festivities equate Christmas in America.
The week of Christmas I received two packages. One from my dad contained a replacement iPod (his old iPhone) and the other was XMas gifts from my Aunt Vicky. Unfortunately the customs agents already did the honor of unwrapping the present but there was still enough wrapping to keep the gift hidden from its recipients. She also sent a gift for me which I’ll admit, I did not wait for. But hey, it’s my house, I do what I want! P.S. Aunt Vicky, if you’re reading this, the bracelets are VERY much the style here and you don’t know how many times I’ve had to refuse women who ask for them.
Christmas Eve I celebrated with my Fada. It’s not quite the same as the Boy’s Club in Hamdallaye but it’s fun. The Fada consists of Cheikna’s son Mohamed, our neighbor Hayatou, and their school friends. It was actually pretty cold so we decided to go to my house and they could prepare the neibit (the staple of every fada – it’s rice and beans with a tomato, onion, and oil sauce … served with Tonko which is crushed red pepper) outside of my house. I was having fun but it really hit me that I wasn’t at Grandpa’s house and I didn’t make my cottage potatoes. When Hayatou mistook the sugar for salt I felt a little better after laughing my head off.
Christmas morning I went to church and celebrated with our group. After church, Henett and I prepared the gifts. I divided Vicky’s 40 gold bracelets saving 3 for me, 10 for the girls and 3 for Maman Cheikna. I went to the market and bought two decks of playing cards as my gift for the boys. I taught Henett how to gift wrap and then we went to their house to deliver their gifts.
The week of Christmas I received two packages. One from my dad contained a replacement iPod (his old iPhone) and the other was XMas gifts from my Aunt Vicky. Unfortunately the customs agents already did the honor of unwrapping the present but there was still enough wrapping to keep the gift hidden from its recipients. She also sent a gift for me which I’ll admit, I did not wait for. But hey, it’s my house, I do what I want! P.S. Aunt Vicky, if you’re reading this, the bracelets are VERY much the style here and you don’t know how many times I’ve had to refuse women who ask for them.
Christmas Eve I celebrated with my Fada. It’s not quite the same as the Boy’s Club in Hamdallaye but it’s fun. The Fada consists of Cheikna’s son Mohamed, our neighbor Hayatou, and their school friends. It was actually pretty cold so we decided to go to my house and they could prepare the neibit (the staple of every fada – it’s rice and beans with a tomato, onion, and oil sauce … served with Tonko which is crushed red pepper) outside of my house. I was having fun but it really hit me that I wasn’t at Grandpa’s house and I didn’t make my cottage potatoes. When Hayatou mistook the sugar for salt I felt a little better after laughing my head off.
Christmas morning I went to church and celebrated with our group. After church, Henett and I prepared the gifts. I divided Vicky’s 40 gold bracelets saving 3 for me, 10 for the girls and 3 for Maman Cheikna. I went to the market and bought two decks of playing cards as my gift for the boys. I taught Henett how to gift wrap and then we went to their house to deliver their gifts.
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