I wish I would have updated this site more often but sadly there is no undoing time and now here I am a RPCV (although the R = returned) is not quite so true. I am still in Niger but within a week I will be back with a Nigerien fiance by my side. But, I do plan on backtracking a little with the help of my journal as well as this recent motivation for writing. I think I have become inspired by all the African memoirs I have been reading lately, not to mention the extra amount of spare time I have had lately. Thus, "The Day I..." was conceived and I envision it being a (re)collection of short stories from my experiences in Niger. So here's an excerpt from my own personal African memoir which in truth I write for myself since memory is infallible but I would be lying if one day I didn't hope to publish it. But for now it remains in my ever expanding notebook, in my journal, and in my heart.
"The Day I Got Rained on Inside a Bush Taxi"
Whoever would willingly choose to enter a bush taxi on a rainy day is either stupid, desperate, or just really bored. Already most of the seventeen passenger vans are ill-equipped to still be on the road. This scenario is worsened by the fact that these taxis often hold more than 17 passengers, are usually piled high with baggage (sometimes even doubling the height of the vehicle) and are most often seen going at breakneck speed.
On this particular day I was just too stubborn to let the rain ruin my plans of spending the day in the capital. When I left my house the rain had abated yet the sky was still threatening with its black clouds encroaching on the white fluffy and hazy blue clouds to the east. I waited for a bit as I expected I would since rarely do taxis make the trip all the way to my side of Kollo, and even more rare do they make this extra 2 kilometer trip while it is raining. Luck was with me and I didn't have to wait more than 5 minutes when a taxi rolled up. I squeezed myself into an additional seat in the aisleway. It wasn't the most comfortable position as the hip of the large lady next to me were pushing firmly against my own hip. Once we arrived in the center of town a few people descended and I could move to a much more comfortable spot, a move which would prove to be a little bit foolish.
I didn't realize until the rain started to pick up again that the left side window was not complete. What should have been two sliding windows was only one and the woman behind me and the girl sitting to my left quickly pulled it towards her so the rain wouldn't hit her but would slap me in the face and completely soak the front of my clothes. I couldn't really protest because she had got there first and putting the sliding window in a different position might only splatter the raindrops differently across my face. In these situations there's not much one can do. I put my bag behind my back, leaned forward and as out of the line of fire as possible and then I took in the sights of my last rainy season in Niger.
In between Kollo (my village) and Libore (a neighboring village) there is a strip of land that has now been flooded with live sustaining water. Normally this strip is a barren sand bed but now it is lush with all kinds of greenery. Grass, corn, and millet are beginning to stand taller than I do. They lean in the wind and the rain pushes down on their leaves. I love seeing camels appear out of nowhere to graze or drink. They are a welcome site as compared to the more often seen cows, goats, and sheep. The water is so swollen today that even the little sand bars where the women come to wash their clothes and dishes is completely submerged. There is only two small children today braving the rain to wash dishes. They let the dishes float onto the water and they quickly submerse them in the water. It looks deeper than it must actually be otherwise they would surely lose these dishes. But their experienced hands work fast and they don't even look bothered by the rain. They are half clothed and I wonder if their skin has goosebumps as bad as mine does.
"The Day I Got Spat on"
There is a common misconception during the month of Ramadan, a holy time of fasting and prayer, that while abstaining from drinking one must also constantly spit so as not to DRINK! I have heard some debate among villagers as to what this means. Most believe you must only spit if your mouth is full and there is phlegm. Others spit almost every other minute, pausing only to chew on sticks which supposedly help them curb their hunger. I stand adamantly on the side that says it is NOT necessary to spit. We salivate naturally and for a reason.
This stance is now even firmly upheld after returning from the market last week. I was walking into the motor park, where all the bush taxis wait. I was taking a shortcut to my inspection when all of the sudden a man turned and spat on me. He was just as surprised as I was although I feigned not noticing so he could save face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him prepare to grovel and apologize but I just kept walking. It's funny how after two years in a country, certain things no longer phase you. I knew it wasn't intentional but all I wished I could have said to him was to look both ways before unloading a mouthful of spit.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
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)
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