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