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).

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.

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)

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'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.

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!

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.