A Goodbye to Babagade

There was a quote from a Niger volunteer somewhere in the Peace Corps paperwork I was given before I came that said something like "The hardest part about Peace Corps Niger is leaving". When I read it I thought how cheesy it was that Peace Corps put that quote in the paperwork. But, well...it's true. One of the most emotional days were the last 24 hours in the village. I knew I was attached to the people of Babagade, but I would have never thought it would be that hard.

Unfortunately things ended in a rough way- I had to watch my best friend Kadija forced into marriage and leave the village just a few days before I left. Kadija is a woman I call my sister, literally we don't use each others names she just calls me Ay Kayna(my younger sister) and I call her Ay beero(my older sister). She's in her mid-thirties and didn't want to get married- her dad was forcing her and her new husband is about 65 years old. So on a Thursday night Kadija was uncontrollably sobbing as they loaded all her stuff up and took her away on 2 donkey carts. The worst part was ending our two years of friendship knowing she didn't want to leave the village...

My last day in the village was Tuesday, so all day villagers were coming to tell me "bye-bye" and just hang out for the last time.
"How could you leave us, Kadija? You've been with us for two years, you sat with us, chatted with us, joked with us, raised our kids. We will never forget you."
"You're leaving us now? We got used to you, you are our people, our family. It's just not fair."
"When you leave we will miss you, Kadija. You need to stay, two more years. We'll build you a bigger house. We'll marry you off to a village man."

To my village women, I told them that I would be going home to get married, to look for a husband. And when I come back it will be with my new husband. I told them though if i don't get a good husband, a good lucking husband, I won't be back to show him. So they all blessed me, "May God show you a good husband!" One of my friends even gave me great advice: "You need to get fatter. So when you go home, in only two days you'll get a husband!" Well, I won't be following the advice anytime soon....I was hoping they'd learned something from me in the past year....

My last night in the village I hung out with Katumie, one of my closest friends, and helped her fry up the meat from the Tabaski celebration that was just ending. We chatted for hours, then i finally asked her why she didn't braid or get her feet henna'd for the holiday. She said her heart had been so broken about me leaving that she didn't do anything, she didn't even get her fabric sewn for her new outfit. But didn't her husband ask her why? She told me that she'd been telling him for days that she was sick. At night time she came over my house after we had been chatting for a while and she gave me her ring that was on her finger and told me "You've given me so much, I will always remember you. I want you to have my ring. You can never forget me." We both started crying and just sat for a little bit together then she went back to her house....

The next morning I woke up and when I opened my door about 9-10 of my women from my concession were coming in and out of my house to greet me. It was sweet- they just sat around for the last time as i was packing up. I was holding in all my tears as I was rushing around cleaning up and giving stuff out for the last time. I gave my house one last check, closed my door and said "A ban" meaning, "it's all finished". When i turned around, nearly all the women in my house were crying. I didn't expect it, and all of a sudden tears were just flowing from my eyes. I shook each of their hands, they blessed me with "May God show us each other" and they walked me to the edge of the village. As I was getting closer to the river a younger girl told me to stop, Katumie is coming to walk me out. She had to sneak away from her husband by pretending to go to the river to get water. She walked with me for about 40 minutes, both of us crying, without tissues, thus blowing snot rockets the entire way. Finally I got into the boat and waved to her from the river and I was out.

As much as i wanted my goodbyes to end there, the next village I got to was the village Kadija just got married into. So I searched out Kadija's new house. It was so cute- she was so excited to see me when i walked in. She brought me into her new house and showed me around, shining in her new Tabaski outfit. All of a sudden I started crying, and then she started crying. Finally she walked me to the edge of the village and I was in a boat for the last time on the River Niger, then took my last bush taxi ride and headed to Niamey.

And there it is, 2 years in the African bush in the middle of nowhere. It's crazy to leave this continent tonight not really knowing when I'm coming back. But one things for sure, I'll be back sooner than later. Now it's time to start my repatriation plan to America. As the Zarma's say, Kala Alomar- "until a long time......."




Our stage COS picture, minus a few...

How to Make American Food

This past week was Tabaski, a Muslim holiday. It's similar to the end of Ramadan holiday in that everyone gets new clothes, braids their hair, and henna's their feet. For this party nearly every family in the entire village sacrifices a sheep/goat. The insides are mostly eaten the first day then it's smoked by the fire. The second day that smoked meat gets fried up in a big vat of oil, and dear Allah is it delicious! The first day there is a big meal in the afternoon which each women in my concession brings a dish. At the end of Ramadan holiday I made lentils, this time I made "American Food". Since my gas ran out, I had to cook it over a 3 rock stove. So here's the recipe:


Amerik Hawru
2 cups chopped onions
1/4 cup chopped garlic
oil
1 large can of tomato paste
2 small bags dried, pounded cassava
1/4 cup curry powder
1/3 cup peanut butter
1 can of green beans
3 spoonfuls powdered milk
2 liters water
hot pepper pounded
salt
2 poulet maggi cubes
3 cans sardines

3 bags pasta

Saute onion in lots of oil. Add garlic once the onions are translucent. Add all other ingredients. Stir. When cooking pasta be sure to overcook it, normally about 25 minutes. Add all together in one big dish and eat with your hands.

Enjoy! My villagers ate it right up, I'm sure you will too since it's American! Even as we were eating they just kept telling me "Iri go ga te Amerik borey" meaning "We are being Americans".

I walked out of my house and saw this:


Smoking of the meat:

Happy Thanksgiving!

He'll be dinner soon....

And for today with just a few weeks left a quick reflection of Niger:

Things to Miss about Niger:
-Sleeping right under the stars every night
-FRIENDS- both peace corps and village friends
-Sitting around for hours and talking about....nothing
-The kids
-Walks in the bush
-Niger generosity & forgiveness
-Having time to do whatever I want
-Village life
-Coming out of the bush after being in for a month and appreciating the smallest of things- running water, showers, cups, plates
-Coming out of the bush and eating mediocre Annasara food and thinking its Allah's gift to me
-Getting care packages- tearing them open and enjoying everything to the last bit
-Being a celebrity everywhere
-Belly laughing with villagers
-African sunsets

Things NOT to Miss About Niger:
-Amoebas!
-Bush taxis
-Waking up with random bug bites
-Bugs crawling all over me when I'm sleeping
-Having a food craving and waiting all month to eat it
-People asking for gifts all the time
-Marriage proposals(or maybe I will miss them?)
-Setting up a mosquito net over my cot everynight
-Mosquitoes/ black flies
-HOT SEASON! i.e. 120+ degree days sans electricity
-Constantly being a foreigner because of my skin


Last night a few other PCV friends and I were sitting around eating Oreos(brought from the motherland) dunking them in milk, eating them like they were God's gifts to all of us- appreciating it like no other. I'll miss that-eating Oreos in America may not taste as good! And this weekend it's back to the bush for the Tabaski Fete then a goodbye to Babagade Koira....

A Culture of Dependency

I couldn't thank Peace Corps more for giving me the opportunity to live in Niger over the past two years- it's given me the chance to live at the village level with the people and truly integrate into the culture and speak the local language. Speaking the language has let me really get to the level of the local people and get a feel for what's going on, but unfortunately I'm ending my two years here with a negative view of foreign aid -- it just doesn't work.

I don't know about other third world countries receiving foreign aid, the rest of Africa, or even the rest of Niger. I can only speak for the people I've lived and worked with over the past 2 years.

Nigeriens are so used to receiving gifts from westerners that they assume that's what westerners do - provide gifts. After so many years of receiving foreign aid in the form of pumps, machines, fences and food, among other things, they now expect it, and sadly, they depend on it.


There is a prominent man in my village, Tino, who is more educated than other men. When my parents came for a visit, he was upset with them for not bringing sacks of food and liters of oil for each villager. This is what the village expects; they are incredibly isolated, and their very limited experience with westerners is completely with aid workers. When I tried to explain to Tino that my parents don't have enough money to do buy it, he argued back saying America has money and if they had enough money to buy a plane ticket then they certainly had enough money to buy everyone sacks of food.


When the water pump of my village broke down shortly after I finished bringing the machine for the village, they asked me to fix it. I told them that I think they should fix it themselves. So, my best friends in the village laughed and said they would just wait for the next volunteer to come and they would ask the new volunteer. But why can't they just do it themselves instead of waiting?

When I try to motivate the men to do work that is income-generating, they refuse; they tell me to pay them first, and then they will work. This is unfortunately how NGO's operate - they pay villagers to do work that will eventually help themselves. These are the same men that after the bad harvest this year told me to call my American people to send them food. What is it about this culture that people are just not willing to work for themselves? Somehow, the relatively constant stream of money, food, and other types of aid have given the culture a very dangerous sense of entitlement, which has replaced their ability to be productive for themselves.


I now can only question the future of Niger- will it get worse here or will people, somehow, figure out how to pull themselves up by their bootstraps? On one hand, it seems that Nigeriens are not ready to help themselves; on the other hand, frighteningly, it seems like the relatively generous amount of foreign aid is responsible for this cultural problem. never thought I'd say this - I came here to help people, as I felt like it is our duty, as humans, to help others who may be suffering. Unfortunately, sometimes it feels like the help we offer, even though it abates the short-term pain, has been somewhat disabling in the long-term. The generosity of others has disenfranchised Nigeriens of their ability to help themselves. Perhaps it's time for other NGO's or other foreign aid organizations to pull out of Niger and let them figure out how to work for themselves.

Another Week, Another Visitor, Another Prez

My sister Kitty came to visit, and as the third member of my family to travel to this god-forsaken land, I gave her a very good idea on what to expect. However, for the third time, I was reminded that no matter how hard you try to set proper expectations, it's really impossible for people to understand until they arrive.

Kitty and I did the standard activities - saw the giraffes, drank Biere Niger in Niamey, and took a bush taxi au village. But on day 3, she called our sister in New York and politely requested that she doesn't have much to report on, but that she would like a hot shower upon return to the US. Her requests to our New York sister gradually became more and more dramatic, finally resulting in a long hot shower, free access to a washing machine, a pile of clean towels, as well as a warm robe. Demanding? You decide. I thought so!

However, she was a great sport, even with her first flight getting cancelled and leaving a day later. But after all, there are much worse places to be stuck in for an extra day, right? Maybe not....But, in the bush the village ladies dressed her for the party and we killed my cute little goat. I think she enjoyed the experience of seeing it here, even if the actual experience of feeling it is, well, uncomfortable, to say the least.

And some quick notes on her week, as she was bothered and enjoyed different things than I about Niger:

~Kitty seemed to get annoyed by having the kids around, who demand to have their pictures taken, then again demand to see it. Well, they never get their picture taken so it's a treat for the kids-I guess I'm just used to it. Speaking of pictures, my mom sent some of my villagers. I had 6-7 women in my house when I first brought them out and the first one had my friend Natiee and I. She was sitting next to me, pointed at it and said "black person and you". Then everyone in the entire room laughed as she didn't even recognize herself in the photo, but merely called herself a "black person"!

~Although not all the kids seemed to like her- one of my favorite little girls was deathly afraid of her- why? not because of her skin color- but because of her long hair! Finally when Kitty pulled it back Wasila stopped screaming!

~Kitty seemed to enjoy the okra sauce- where I refer to it as vomit sauce!

~One thing for sure- Kitty loved the attention from West African men! Whereever we, anasaras, go in Niger it feels like any man is eager to talk to us. It gets really tiring. When what feels like an entire country of men would marry you, its just annoying. But Kitty ate it right up! Everywhere we went she was willing to talk to the men that were smiling at her- where no one was willing to talk to me. I guess Niger has worn me down that now I just yell at everyone in Zarma! The celebrity life has gotten to me- now i understand why celebrities go nuts!

~This past weekend we went up to Ayorou to see the market then went up to Firgoune. Firgoune is a village right on the river and hippos are aplenty there. We went for a hippo watch and saw nearly 12 hippos. Luckily, we made it out alive. The next day we headed to the Ayorou market which was really unique- Ayorou is close to the Mali border and a lot of different ethnic groups gather at this market. We then went to the Anasara hotel for a little lunch break- Kitty even got to see corruption at its best! We had four meat sticks and a plate of fries, which would normally cost about $4. Well, the bill came and it was $10. I thought this is crazy, so I calmly asked the waiter in french. They told me it was expensive because I didn't discuss the price before I bought it. Seriously? This is a restaurant, aren't prices already decided?! Then the next guy they brought me to talk to told me the cost of the plate was $7. So why $10? That was the cost, once again I didn't discuss what it should have been. Finally they brought a third guy around and I had enough with the polite french and started yelling at these 3 different men in Zarma. They realized I was kind of a Nigerien since i speak the local language (and can yell like a Nigerien) and decided to give me some of the money back. During the good times, when I'm crying about leaving my village, I'll think about times like this!!! AWW get me out of here!

So with that hopefully Kitty is relaxing in the first world, eating all that beef jerky and chocolate she can get. Oh, America....

I can't end this blog without commenting on the election...OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA! Although it was unfortunate to not be in America during the election- there was so much excitement here. I stayed up nearly all night to hear the results- which was announced at about 5 am to have friends and family in both Niger and America texting like crazy. Although my sister and i were by ourselves in the middle of nowhere in Africa, we still celebrated! Nigeriens had so much excitement about having a black president- before the election every taxi we got into people would immediately ask if I voted. The educated men in the village were all talking. So now when my villagers ask me if there are black people in America- it's easier to explain by simply saying our president is black!!


A little video of Kitty getting off the camel:

Marriage, Divorces, Tampons and more...

This past week we got back from a 3-day training at ICRISAT- an agricultural research center about 40k from Niamey. Roughly 10 PCVs each took a counterpart from their village- which i actually took the two men I’ve been working extensively with for gum arabic. But all the Nigeriens seemed extremely motivated and interested and hopefully walked away from the training with some new knowledge

Then for my village- my first day back to post after Gerewol I was unpacking and left a box of tampons out. My chief, Issa, came by to greet me on returning from my trip and pointed at the tampons and asked what they were. I avoided his questions but his curiosity took over and he kept asking. Finally I explained it to him- but that still wasn’t enough. I finally opened the tampon and showed him. The shock on his face made me laugh at what a funny cross-culture moment it was. But, seriously? Last time I leave tampons sitting out on my table!

The same chief that I was chatting with about tampons that day was also going through his second divorce. Why? His wife and him were fighting. His wife, Haoua, often brings her work to the next village over during the day to visit her family. But Issa didn’t agree that she could leave the house during the day- never mind the fact that Issa is constantly traveling himself and is really only at his house at nighttime. So a divorce is in the works. But he also doesn’t have much to worry about, given that in the Islam religion men are allowed to have up to 4 wives, Issa still has two more at home.

With my birthday this week I was explaining to my villagers that I would be a year older when they saw me next. They looked at me and said “Ni santo!” which translates to “You’re old and not married!”. For a language that only has 3 colors (black, white and red) it’s impressive they have a verb for “old and not married”.

Just before I left my village last weekend there was a meeting with about 15 men outside of my concession. Later I found out that it was a meeting to organize the wedding of my best friend, Kadija. Normally I’d be happier for someone getting married- but Kadija has already been married and when she divorced she decided she didn’t want to marry again. If you talk to Kadija about marriage, she’ll tell you she’s seen marriage, its awful because of how much the husband beats the wife and she never wants to get married again. Kadija is now in her mid-thirties and her dad, who is probably in his mid-seventies, decided it is not acceptable for her not to be married. So the father of the new groom came from another village came and paid her dowry, which was about $500, then they did the special blessing, without either the groom or bride present. And now it’s all in waiting until the marriage ceremony happens in the next few weeks….

All that and I milked a goat for the first time this week then made goat cheese with my villagers! The difference between American goat cheese and Nigerien goat cheese? In Niger, you pull goat hairs out of the cheese as you eat it.

And with that, my older sis, Kitty arrives today! Woohoo! And he’ll be dinner on Thursday….

Gerewol!

This past weekend 4 other PCVs, a guide/friend and I headed out to Gerewol- which turned out to be one of the coolest cultural experiences I've had in Niger....

Gerewol is a big festival held each year around this time for about a week by the Wodaabe- which are a subgroup of the Fulani ethnic group. The festival is pretty much a beauty pageant- for the men. The young Wodaabe men come with elaborate clothes and put on makeup to accentuate the whites of their eyes and teeth. Wodaabe beauty also stresses height, thus the high turbans and feather add height. The Wodaabe are sexually liberal- women come to the event just to check out the men and maybe even hook up with a man for the night.

Wodaabe man putting on makeup
On Friday, we all headed out from Niamey to Abalak on an 11 hour bus ride. When we finally got to Abalak we hopped in an open back truck for about 35k into the bush. Each one of us had loads of questions- we really had no clue as to what Gerewol exactly was until we got there...

When we arrived it was just tents everywhere....not any type of Niger tent, but a tent you would buy from REI- nearly every single Wodaabe has one at the event. We got in at night time, and just heard from a distance the singing going on. When we finally got settled we all headed over to check it out. It was a tight circle of men, standing shoulder to shoulder in all of their makeup and clothes, singing a song. Our guide took us into the middle of the circle- and I could just feel the energy of the entire circle. That night it was almost a full moon, so we could see people but not quite see their faces. They were so interested in us- being tall people they would just bend from all directions to see our faces. People would just come to touch/stroke our hands and arms. It was like they were looking at us as "creatures", but we were doing the same!

On Saturday morning we walked around the festival for a bit. The first place we were at was the men's beauty contest. The men (who are extremely vain and go everywhere looking in their handheld mirror!) put makeup all over their face then line up in a straight line. They have quite a bit of momentum however, and sing and move with the song. Eventually a woman comes and declares the "winner" by kind of like throwing a cloth at them to point them out. During the day there was also a women's housing exposition, where each women had their housewares on display. Several days during the festival there is also a camel race, but we weren’t lucky enough to see it.


Beauty Pageant

That afternoon I got my hair braided- Wodaabe women braid their hair in three braids, one on each side then one in the back, then in the front is a big "poof". No other way to explain it. Luckily, because my hair had been braided for several weeks it was nearly exactly like their hair. It did the poof with no problems! Everyone was interested to come to see if my hair was real- I’ve never had so many people pulling on my hair in my life! As we walked around, what felt like every person there had to talk to me, due to my new hairstyle. When other guys asked our guide about me, he made up a story: "She's also Wodaabe. She's from America. Her father was here at the beginning of the festival, but her mother couldn't make it." People would answer with a "WOW! We knew she was one of us, she has our hair, but we could tell by her nose!" (A defining feature of the Wodaabe tribe is their more pointed nose whereas Zarma's tend to have flatter noses). After hearing so many times that they wanted to marry me off to a Wodaabe, I finally told one women that I was already married. She lit up with excitement and told me we should swap husbands for the night! Which is normal for Wodaabes….

On the last night we were at Gerewol we heard more dancing. Although we were tired we finally went to go see what was going on. When we arrived, there was a dancing circle, but this time the men were singing for the women as they danced. As they were all happily dancing with a few hundred spectators, a prominent Wodaabe man came. The men started talking quietly to the side as everyone went quiet. The entire group broke up; when we asked the women they told us that this man didn’t agree that the men and women could dance together. And with that, due to this one man, the entire party of the night ended.

Overall it was a fantastic time. It was fun to hang out with friends up there and camp out(as if we don’t camp enough already). Unfortunately I don’t speak Fulfulde(the language of the Fulans) so Claudia was constantly translating. But one things for sure- my sign language has vastly improved! Although next time I would bring something better to sleep on- sleeping on just a sheet on the ground isn’t the most comfortable, and definitely doesn’t help with the bugs crawling all over me at night! I even managed to get a short video up of the men’s beauty contest- not the best sound quality but gives an idea of their singing/dancing style. Also check my flickr page for more photos. And with that, Gerewol 2008 is finshed and it's back to the bush again.



The women's housewares exposition




Gerewal video-beauty pageant

i heart taxi brousse

There are days when I'm in my village. I look around I feel like, 'How could i ever leave this place?' I see my friends, my family, my niger mom- people I've lived with for the last few years. It'll be a tough day when I leave Niger...

And then I get on a bush taxi. Bush taxis are supposed to hold 19 people, three rows of 4 people each, one row of 5 people, and 2 people in the front with the driver. Not luxurious, but the problems come when they decide to just pile more people in the taxi. Put a kid on your lap. Squish another person in, no problem. Keeping in mind Nigerien women are big. You also have to be alert for the peeing babies that get handed around.

And then the stench. When it's 120 degrees and you're in a car with people that don't wear deodorant, you can imagine the smell. Add in the smell of animals....and it's like each bush taxi makes its own soup.

The car? A piece of shit. You're lucky to get a car that will start up. But if it doesn't? No problem, everyone gets out to push. After that, 9/10 times there are car problems. Flat tires. But leave it to a Nigerien to solve any car problem—they are thrifty people. The other problem is the seats which maybe had cushion at one point have none now. It’s all worn down so you're pretty much sitting on a piece of wood that you’re lucky if it even has a back. Comfort. True comfort. Sometimes I've gotten in a car and there are chickens running around my feet.

Although most bush taxis are covered, to get to Gotheye from my village (about 30k) all that’s available is open back trucks. The great thing about an open back truck is you can just load people on- no limit! Animals too! I've been on some trucks with over 30 people loaded up in the back.

The people? They like to harass anasaras!! They don't leave us alone. I mean, I know I'm cool but seriously that cool that everyone in the car insists on talking to me, asking to marry me, giving me their babies? I guess the answer is yes, I am cool.

My favorite bush taxi yet was the other week where there were about 15 goats on the top of the car. Well when you’re driving 100km/hr and a goat starts peeing, it was like a spray for everyone in the car, kind of like a shower.

And that's only the bush taxi ride. It doesn't include the 6k walk and three boats it takes for me to get to Niamey. Describing a bush taxi doesn't even give it justice.

Normal? Not normal? You decide. But be thankful for the sweet public transportation of America.



**also, see new pictures on flickr account

En brousse

Another month in the bush another month in review…

-UPDATE: Firstly as an update to the July blog about visiting Mehanna. Well about a week after returning to Babagade I got a bush package sent to me via bush taxi containing 45 eggs from the school director in Mehanna. I was ecstatic to receive it as it’s nearly impossible to get eggs in the bush. I called the school director and thanked him. Another week later I received another package containing 35 eggs. When my villagers saw me open it they looked at me in all seriousness and said “Kadija, you know he wants to marry you!” Okay, enough! So, I never called him back as I was busy with my parents coming a few days after. But he preceded to calling me every single day over and over, sometimes up to 12 times a day! He was even calling the schoolteacher of my village to track me down- creepy! And then….he showed up at my house, even more creepy! I yelled at him, told him I was busy. You’d think he’s learned a lesson. But no, he’s still calling. I guess that’s what I get for living in country where you “buy” a wife….

-One story my villagers keep telling me:
One night when my parents were in my village we were eating dinner with about 10 other villagers. My mom wanted a chair so my dad got up and got her a chair. Then she needed to wash her hands, so my dad brought her water to wash with. Finally, my dad brought my mom a bottle of drinking water. Sounds normal, right? Well, all of my villagers watched and couldn’t’ believe what they were seeing. They all laughed as in Nigerien culture men sit around nearly all the time just waiting for women to wait on them. They don’t even get water for themselves!

-Interesting sometimes the Nigerien concept of money. The other day I had on my new Chaco sandals my parents brought me. One ofmy friends asked me how much they were- I told her very expensive(Nigerien sandals cost about $.80-$1). She asked me if they were more than $1. Well, yea, a lot more. More than $1.20? Yes. But maybe that’s why they keep telling me America has money!

-The other day my friend told me how happy I must be that my parents brought me lots of money when they came. I told them in America when you turn 18 years old you have to make money for yourself. My friend looked at me confused, and asked, “What do women do, become prostitutes?”

-At the beginning of this month the fast of Ramadan started. I forget how cranky everyone gets! The 2nd day of Ramadan I told my villagers I would fast with them. So at 5 AM my friend Katumie came banging on my door long enough to make sure I woke up and got out of bed. So I ate breakfast and went back to bed. During Ramadan Nigeriens break the fast at the end of the day with kool-aid and tasty food. Since I didn’t have anything before sunset Katumie brought me what Zarmas call “kopto”, which means leaves in Zarma. Since it’s rainy season the women go around picking the weeds from the ground and boil them like spinach. So I was starved so I was eating quickly- but then I noticed a funny black round thing on my fork.. As I picked it out I looked more carefully I noticed it was a pellet of goat poop. Yes, read that again- goat poop. Only in Niger.

-I had some apple scented dishwashing soap sitting out so one of my friends asked me what it is. Most soap in Niger is in teh form of bar soap so she had never seen liquid soap. I opened it for her and she smelled it….”This smells like candy!” She loved the smell so much she started rubbing it all over her body! She needs lotion, not dishwashing soap!

This week I'm in town for my Close of Service conference....crazy I'm leaving this country in less than 3 months...

The Parents Take Niger

Last night wrapped up a week long visit with the 'rents. Although I was pushing for them to visit for two weeks, i think they were "Niger'd out" after being in the bush! The first day they arrived I took them to what is considered to be the nicest hotel in Niamey. I told my mom I could have found her a cheaper hotel, but I know she prefers luxury- she looked at me and said "This is luxury?" I was a little concerned about how they would manage the rest of their trip, but they adjusted just fine....
After a few days of searching for giraffes and getting a glimpse of Niamey we headed to Babagade. As we arrived we recieved a warm welcome from the village we tried to sit down and relax...but the welcoming didn't stop! Nigeriens love to greet, and when you're tired of greeting, you greet again! All afternoon people from all over the village came in to see both my parents-my mom newly named "Haisatou" and my dad "Soumaiaylou". The kids came quickly to begin the staring that never ended for the entire 4 days they were in the bush! Then they would try touching my parents to see if they would turn white too!
Both of my parents seemed to adjust quickly to the bush- no running water, no electricty, the dirt, the uncomfortableness, my small house. Except for one thing- they both avoided the toilet insisting they didn't know how to use it! Who would have thought my parents- the people that taught me how to camp, would have been so concerned about squatting?!
Besides the toilet they seemed to enjoy meeting and chatting with my villagers. It was an interesting meeting of the two worlds- women and men that I've referred to as my dad, mom and Nigerien family for the last year and a half finally meeting my real parents. Although some of my friends were tough on them- one of my friends was insisting my dad needed to go work in the field for the day. The women insisted my mom had to stay around and pound millet and rice. One things for sure though- both parents kept commenting on the happiness that they could see in the village, an innate happiness. The women and men of Niger just don't stop joking.
It was interesting to see both my parents adjust to the village life by themselves. My mother had no problem heading out into the village and sitting with the women by herself, regardless of a huge language barrier. As for my dad? He became the Pied Piper! When we were at market my mom and i went for a little walk around and left my slightly cranky dad by himself sitting. When we came back he had nearly 30 kids gathered around him, teaching them English. He'd point and the kids would answer "eyes, nose, chin". Keep my dad around this country and these kids will be speaking English in no time!
That night after getting back from market we were all exhausted and as we were going to bed I got a knock on my door. When I answered it it was one of my villagers bringing my parents a gift: a live chicken. I didn't quite know what to do, but my mom in her limited zarma kept saying "Alhamdulala". Which in this situation translates to "No thank you". She thought she was being nice! After settling the situation we finally had a new little pet tied to the bed!
The third day in the bush we had a party and killed a goat for the visiting annasaras. All the women in the village came to eat some rice and goat then to dance the afternoon away. Although (very) hectic, it was fun to hang out for the day with the buzz of the village around.
After four days in the bush we went back to the same hotel we stayed at when they arrived- which they now recognized as luxurious! After a few more days in Niamey both my parents survived Niger- including the near death hippo ride!

Patience in Tough Times

http://www.phrasebase.com/countries/niger/

Fertility rate= 7 babies per woman

Birth rate= 49.95 births per 1000 people

Infant mortality rate- baby deaths per 1000 births= 122.23 babies die per 1,000 births

Those are the statistics.

Right now is rainy season and with rainy season is hunger season. Right now it feels like everyone is sick in the village….malaria is sneaking up on everyone.

This past week I went for a walk to the Fulans (a nomadic ethnic group) that that live behind my village and chatted with them for a few hours. They told me I had to see the little Fulan twins that were only a month old. When I walked in, they showed me the first baby- a girl who was small, but still moderately healthy. Then the mom pointed to the other little boy who she told me "didn't have health." But this little boy was beyond not being in health- he was on the verge of dying. When I asked, they told me his mouth hurt and he couldn't breast feed. What? This child hasn't been able to breast feed for a month except what you've forced upon him? Looking at this child just killed me- reminded me of the commercials of "the starving kids in Africa" on TV. He almost appeared as a skeleton lying on the bed, every bone popping out of his body. When I asked his mom why she hadn't taken him to the doctor at all for medicine, she told me she had no money. But you have cows, chickens, sheep and donkeys, go sell an animal and you'll get money! Finally after me yelling at everyone including the child's grandparents, father, and father's brother that afternoon they brought the child into the doctor's office.

Distraught as I was, I started asking my villager about it. "Nigeriens, we like giving birth! We like babies!" But why have more babies if your babies will die? "We'll give birth again!" And from the mind of a villager, why nurse a very sick baby back to health when it would be very expensive when you could just give birth again?

I started explaining to my friend how in America we like all of our kids to live and how our health is so important. But with every explanation, I got nearly the same answer "She will give birth again." That same day a baby that was just a month old died in my village. Then, 2 days later the little Fulan boy died.

All that and the next morning I woke up to three of my villagers knocking on my door to let me know that Sophie, my neighbors 2 ½ year-old little girl, died of malaria that night. While the tears streamed down my face, they looked at me and said "Patience, Kadija. Have patience."

Your Guest is Your King

When I first arrived in my village I brought along the book "In Sorcery's Shadow" by Paul Stoller to read. The book is about animism in the region I live in, with a big focus on the larger town of Mehanna. It just happens that Mehanna is at the end of the unpaved road that i live in, so I hear about it often. But, it is still about 70k from my village, and I hadn't been there yet. So a few weeks ago Rachel and I gathered our mosquito nets up and we were off to Mehanna. The chief of my village gave us the name of a contact he had that we could ask for when we arrived. After a long day of bush taxi riding and sitting at a nearby market we arrived in Mehanna. Upon arriving Mehanna, we showed up at the shop and asked for my chief's contact, Issifi. The women sitting there called Issifi, and told him he had guests. Really? Yup, there are two annasaras here asking for you.

So about an hour later Issifi shows up as he had also been traveling. After we greet him, I explained how I got his number. Then with a smile on my face, I told him "We will sleep in your house!" So with that, we became his guests. He started leading us around the village, brought us to his friend's house so we could wash up. After our walk around the village we decided it would be best to sleep in the school as it would be like giving us our own house for our stay in Mehanna. When night time rolled around the school teacher set us up an enormous mattress to sleep on, complete with pillows and sheets. A sweet treat when we expected to just be sleeping straight up on the ground! For dinner, they set us up with a table, tablecloth, chairs, and a few amazing pots of food with an enormous fried fish on the side. Oh those luxeries! After dinner they even brought us come cokes! And with it all we didn't lift a finger!

After a great night of sleep we woke up the next morning to...more food! An enormous bowl of fried eggs with a side of bread! And when I insisted they didn't have to do it for us...what do they tell us? "Your guest is your king" A Niger proverb. And wow, we were definitely the kings, (or queens?) of this village! The second day we hung out at market for a few hours then made our way back to Babagade. We didn't see any crazy sorcerers but sure did experience Nigerien hospitality.

Conclusion? I'd highly recommend showing up at a random village in Niger and telling some random person you will be sleeping in their house for a few nights. Hospitality at its best!

Monthly Rambles...

Well...almost two months, I'm a little behind with the blog. What was my welcome back to the village after returning from Ghana? Mom's of every little baby boy in the village, and every little boy coming to my house, pulling down their pants to show me they've been circumcised! And they were so excited about it! (Circumcision is part of Muslim culture). Definitely gave me a good laugh....

It's been a more or less typical few months in the village- a few weddings, many babies born, and sadly a few babies died. A pair of twins died just days after being born, another little girl that was 2 weeks old died. And unfortunately hunger season has started. I was talking to one of my friends, asking her about how many children she has (although it's generally an impolite question in Niger, as its a sign of how much money one has). She told me 5, but then started naming off all of her children that have died. Shocked, I found out that she has given birth 13 times, 8 children have died. 8. An incredible number that's still almost unbelievable to me.

When I was talking to another villager, I was asking her questions in an attempt to figure out the family tree of the village. After I had written down about 15 people, she busted out with "I married my grandfather." Umm, seriously? No, no this can't be. God is big. Wow, you married your grandfather? God is very big. In the bush in Niger they really only use the terms "child", "mom" "dad", etc, so they don't tend to use uncle or cousins. But finally I broke it down with her, and she married her great-uncle. Still shocking, to say the least.

Other village news? The water pump in my village broke. So I've been going to the next village to fetch water. A 12 minute walk with 20 liters of water on your head isn't the easiest. But, then that pump broke. So next up? the river. But at that point the 20 minute walk through mud and water was just a little too much, so I sent a kid. They did fix the pump in the next village so it's back to fetching my own water.

All that, and I bought 2 goats and 3 chickens! Being an anasara (white person) walking 2 goats on a leash back from market has never gotten me so much attention! One goat will be killed and eaten next month when my parents visit, and one when i leave in December. Although I'm afraid I am already becoming to attached and won't be able to kill either of them!

And most importantly....the machine at Babagade is up and "fufuing" rice! I can't thank everyone enough for the contributions back home.....and the women can't either! They are constantly showing me their hands telling me they won't suffer anymore! They love buffing their enormous calluses!

Unfortunately my camera broke...so until my parents come I don't have any pictures to put up...so stay tuned for the pictures of the rice grinding machine!

and we're back

Wow. Wow. Wow. when I visited America everyone asked me if I felt culture shock. My answer- not really. I felt like i clicked back into my American self. But this time, after traveling around West Africa? Holy shit. I don't quite know what to say to give these countries justice. As soon as we crossed the border into Benin--it was green. Ghana, they have sidewalks. Crosswalks. Not only do public restrooms exist, they offer toilet paper. Heck, they even sell toilet paper on the street. Women in Burkina Faso, a country more similar to Niger, wear pants. Ride bikes. It was like just crossing the border into Benin was a whole new world. All in all it was interesting to see Niger in comparison to its neighboring countries.

But....Vacation was amazing. After a quick few days through Benin and Togo we reached the destination we'd been dreaming of for over a year: Ghana. Before getting to the ocean our first destination was Wli waterfalls. Barbara, Claudia and I did the roughly 2 hour hike to the upper falls. After an extremely strenuous 2 hour hike (wearing flip flops) we got a chance to swim in the waterfalls. Heaven at last. All while speaking what felt like a foreign language, ENGLISH!
Then on to the ocean, sunbathing, and just lounging on the beach. The ocean was amazing though, almost took Barbara out a few times as she came panting out of the waves. (Near death experience number 2.) We bummed around the coast for about a week then headed up to Kakum national park. Kakum has a canopy walk, consisting of 7 bridges up to 40 meters over the tropical rain forest, unique to Africa. Although I think it was a little above my thrill level as it turned into a major thunderstorm when we were in the middle! I think my knees are still shaking from the walk!

Finally we said goodbye to the coast and several long travel days later found ourselves in Dogon Country, Mali. We spent about 3 days hiking around Dogon, going village to village, up and down the cliffs. Dogon people have an extremely unique lifestyle as they live in the cliffs. Thousands of years ago they moved to the cliffs to escape tribal enemies. Originally it was the Tellem people that moved into the high cliffs, using black magic to climb up the walls. Although none of us were able to get into the high houses as today even scientists wonder how they got out there. Our guide was insisting they used vines but who knows. Being in Dogon country actually turned out to be the most relaxing, enjoyable part of our whole trip as Dogon people were laid back, friendly, and overflowing with culture.

But soooo good to be back in Niger. Made me appreciate Nigeriens. No hassles, no getting ripped off, no one grabbing me as i walk to market.

So it's back to speaking zarma and in 2 days back to Babagade.....

But before then, here's a Vacation by the Numbers:
(see Flickr site for more pictures)

# OF.....

...days on vacation: 26
...countries visited:5
...cities/villages visited: 24
...hours spent in buses/bush taxis traveling: 73
...Fanmilks consumed(i.e. ice cream in a bag): 62
...hostels without running water(or broken): 7
...number of screaming matches over taxis ripping us off: 7
...languages we learned to say hello in: 10
...hard boiled eggs consumed on a bush taxi: 27
...braids on my head: 204
...stamps in my passport: 14
...nights slept in a shared bed: 18
...times we almost ran out of the current currency: 3
...times Barbara almost died: 2
...West Africans that want a mohawk thanks to Claudia: a lot
...villages visited in Dogon Country: 7
...times I was hit on by men I didn't want to talk to: too many to count
...times getting ripped off: I don't want to think about it. Far too many.
Favorite place? A tie between Wli falls and Begnemoto in Dogon country


Two Weaves and a Mohawk drinking fresh coconut juice oceanside

Swimming at the Upper Wli Falls

The canopy walk at Kakum National Park

Crossing the ravine by a "ladder" in Dogon Country

V A C A T I O N

Well, almost….Next Friday morning Barbara, Claudia, Kim and I are catching a bus outta here. The next 3 ½ weeks will be spent traveling Benin, Togo, Burkina Faso, and Mali. Barbara and I got our hair braided yesterday so we're ready to go...and we’re headed straight to the beach!

But before then...Came into Niamey earlier in the week to start getting visas, which are pricey! Then my group that I swore in with is all heading to Hamdallaye tonight for mid-service training. Although we're a lot fewer than when we started, down to 25 out of the 37 people.

As for the bush? Been super busy! Tring to get all these pepinieres of trees started/planted before leaving for vacation. Several villagers are starting a pepiniere to outplant as live fencing when the rains come. I’m also working with the men again planting nearly 2000 gum Arabic trees in a pepiniere. And the motivation this time? When my parents come they’ll be helping transplant the trees to the field. After all, what’s better than two “old” annasaras planting trees in the desert?!

What else? Babies and weddings. A woman in a nearby village gave birth to 4 babies, all girls. I can’t even imagine the pain she suffered. When I went to see her and the babies at the doctors office the next day, she was lying on the ground and could barely lift her head to greet me. Later that day an ambulance took them all into Niamey. Rumor has it one has died so far, three are still in health. God is big.

And weddings? About 2 months ago Fati, 33 years old, showed up in my neighbors house. When I asked my villagers they told me she is my neighbor’s daughter, had been living in Niamey but just got divorced for the second time. A few weeks ago a man from another village showed up at her house to give her mom the bride price: 100,000 CFA and a cow(worth up to 400,000 CFA). Six days later her stuff was packed and she left Babagade for her 3rd marriage. As her eight year old daughter watched her leave she was screaming in tears. Sad but kind of interesting, she didn’t take any kids from her previous marriage, including her 3 year old son. One marriage ends, another beginning...

On another note? I’m learning Nigerien sign language! There are a few deaf people in my village and nearly everyone can communicate with them. So I figure it's my turn to start learning. The funny thing is though when I’m signing, other villagers that are warching will tell me “I swear to God Kadija, you hear Zarma!” Well, what’s to hear?

And lastly, a plea to everyone reading this, even if we’ve never met: something has happened in my life- I have finished every puzzle in my Sudoku book. Every single puzzle. So please, someone send me a new book. I need some way to fill those long 120 degree days. Here’s my address:
Lulu McCourt
Corps de la Paix, PCV
Gotheye, Niger
West Africa

Thank you and Allah loves you.

I Love This Country

There's nothing I love more than lying on my millet stock bed, in my mud house...with my stomach aching like crazy...going to my hole, err bathroom, every few minutes...feeling like I'm going to vomit. All this knowing I have to walk 2 hours the next morning to catch a bush taxi...to get to Niamey...to see my doctor. Too sick to cook I was eating up all the granola bars that just came in a care package from my dear Grandma. Oh, and Nigeriens pounding on my door all day and night Tuesday to greet and bless me on my health. And its 110 degrees. Amoebic Dysentery, Bacteria, and bleeding from the intestines, aka shitting blood. I love this country.

Other than thinking I'm dying, what have I been up to? A few weeks ago Barbara and Elyse came out to my village to help me paint a world map on my school. Went well, got the map painted. Unfortunately, when they were around my gas tank was having some problems, well not really working at all. So the solution? We cooked over a 3-rock stove. I kind of felt like a circus act as what felt like the entire village came to watch me cooking over fire. But we were still able to make pretty normal food: tuna samosas, zhatar bread, tortillas, potato chips. And since I just bought a dutch oven, I was able to make bread! My villagers were all doubting me when I was putting it in, but an hour later it was like magic- a loaf of bread came off the fire!



Anything else? I painted the door on my house lavender. My villagers are jealous and even want their door painted too. See new pictures I've posted. So, as soon as my stomach returns back to a normal state I'm getting out of Niamey and back to the life au village.

Another day in their life??

Well it's been a tough couple of days. When I came to Babagade just over a year ago my first morning I walked out my door and there was a baby naming ceremony, (ie baptism) in full swing. My neighbor, Ramatou, was the mom of a new baby, Umu. Since little Umu was born the same time I got to the village I often followed her growing up over the past year. We even celebrated her first birthday a few weeks ago.

This past week Tuesday afternoon as I was leaving my house another friend told me that i should go to see Ramatou as her daughter is sick. I don't think there was anything anyone could have told me to prepare me as I walked into her house for what I was about to see: Ramatou was holding Umu in her lap as Umu's eyes were rolling around and she was constantly moaning. As I choked back tears, Ramatou let me know that Umu had only been sick since the Tuesday before. Within 2 hours, Umu had died. Ramatou, probably in her late 30's, has given birth to 9 children, now only 5 are living.

The funeral was equally shocking. The men took the body almost immediately to bury in the cemetery. The women sat in the house and grieved while the men sat in a group outside. They grieved through the night and the next morning, but by 10 am or so it was back to life as usual. Not a single person shed a tear, including Ramatou. In fact, the women of my village told me that if Ramatou would have cried other villagers would have insulted her. Is that really fair, a women isn't allowed to cry over her own child's death? It was by far one of the saddest sights seeing a suffering child, but nearly equally shocking the way death is just another day in their life.

back to da bush

After being in Niger for a while, my sense of compassion became oddly dulled.... dirty, naked, hungry children, began to seem sort of normal, and the filth and frustration of the poorest country in the world seemed less shocking. Returning from America allowed me to see it with the eyes of the first world, again. The compassion in my heart grew in my first week as I saw the children's torn clothing( or none at all), their malnourished distended bellies, and their toys consisting of dead rats and cow dung as play-doh. Instead of seeing my friends, my home, I could see Niger for what it is: one of the poorest countries in the world. Seeing the poverty with fresh eyes had reinspired me and gave my projects a new importance.

Unfortunately...sometimes, I wonder if this place can possibly change. I received such a warm welcome when I returned from America, and I was excited to work on my projects. So just a few days after being back I tried to round up the men to do work with the gum arabic trees. After an hour, only 4 men came. What? In a village of over 1000 people there are only 4 capable men? The other men, all sitting around idly, even had the audacity to ask where the money is that I brought for them from America because "America has money."

So if "the developing world" continue to bring them food aid, water pumps, health care, etc. will they ever change and work for themselves or just keep on waiting?

Aside from my frustrations, it's been a great couple of weeks back in the village. I didn't sleep much, since everyone in the entire village came to greet me. Additionally, shortly after I got back my next door neighbor got married (bride: age 15, husband: age 30+?). The celebration brought lots of people from the area to my village, as well as three nights of blaring crazy music and 3 days of random people wanting to see my house. And what do you do at a Nigerien wedding? You eat! Dance! Give money!! Women sit around gossiping and every few minutes more food gets passed around. For 3 days. It was fun, and everyone was happy. With a new bride and groom they decorate the house and give them furniture, dishes, and hang cloth on the wall. The new bride even got a chandelier!





My projects have picked up, so I've been busy planting Moringa with the women, tapping gum arabic trees with the men, and working with the school for GLOBE (environmental education). About 2 weeks ago I figured out that only 1 out of 12 girls in the 6th grade class can read/write. The literacy reports say that about 15% of girls in Niger can read. But in the bush, i wouldnt be surprised if that number was more like 1-2%, as I don't know a single older woman in my village that is literate. What to do? I'm trying to organize a literacy group with the school girls. Sadly, they just don't have the time to come, since the parents make them stay home to get the housework done. I'm trying to figure out incentives to have them show up at my house....any ideas?

I also saw a piece of wildlife....

....a crocodile!! look closely

I'm in Niamey for a couple days to load up on project supplies then back to the bush on weds....

The Good and Bad

It feels so good to be back!....well, almost.

So to start things up....A BIG THANKS to everyone who donated to my Women's Millet Grinder...the proposal is filled!!! Just getting ready to head back to my village and start up with some serious meetings. Get the house built for the new millet grinder then in a matter of a few weeks my women's group leader and I will be making the purchase. So thanks to everyone for their support!!

And the bad? Well, there was a landmine yesterday in the capital, Niamey. Actually within a few kilometers from the Peace Corps hostel. Creepy? yes.
Read about it:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7178529.stm

The creepier part is that no one has claimed responsibility for this landmine, or the others that were set in December. Yesterday we weren't allowed to leave the hostel for a few hours, then were only allowed to go places by foot. But today, it's life back to normal.

So back from America with probably 50 pounds of dried fruit, thanks to my mama. And lots of other food, after all who knows when I'll see a place like Costco again till the end of my service?! I even took some pictures of the grocery store: eggs, milk, chickens and produce. I'll try to explain the concept of how we buy stuff from the grocery stores. A little bit bizarre?

I put up some of Lauren's pictures on my Flickr website. Unfortunately, when I was robbed, all my pictures from the last 6 months or so were stolen with my camera. So those will never go up. But for now, I'll leave with a picture Lauren took: my friend's 8-month old baby chewing on a raw chicken head, right after it was cut off the chicken we were about to eat. Someone get these babies pacifiers! Normal? Lauren didn't think so. I don't even know anymore!