In the past two months, I have been to visit friends in their villages, had some time to let loose a bit in the capitol, and have developed a much stronger bond with my community. Much like the rest of my time in Niger, I have been riding the emotional rollercoaster for the last couple months, and let’s just say, it’s a good thing I like rollercoasters. I have been hit with some intense bouts of homesickness and had to turn to friends for support – the friend I chose at the peak of my emotional rollercoaster ride doesn’t quite know what to do with crying people, so we were a pretty comical pair. But, without her support and willingness to just let me cry, I would probably be back in California searching for jobs that just don’t exist right now (Thanks T-Dub!).
I continue to face daily struggles, but with each passing day, I grow a little bit stronger and a little better equipped to face these challenges head on. As of today, there are only 20 months left of my service in Niger…
My “Piece” of Mind: Writing this blog has been one of the most rewarding and beneficial elements of my service in Niger thus far. Not only is this blog a means for me to accomplish one of the three primary goals of Peace Corps – helping promote a better understanding of Nigerien culture on the part of Americans – it is a way for me to clear my mind and express myself.
There are things about living in Niger that are so very different from life in America that it is often hard for others to even fathom what it is that I am experiencing. I am often only able to turn to my fellow volunteers, the people who are living and experiencing the same things as me, for support as they are the only people who will understand what I am dealing with and won’t look at me as if I am crazy. It is through this blog that I hope to share some of these differences in the hopes that my friends and family will have a better understanding of the daily challenges I face.
I also want this blog to serve as a medium for me to reach more than just my circle of friends and family. I have heard from many people that they have shared my blog with their circles friends and family and I couldn’t ask for anything better than that. There are people that I have never been acquainted with who follow my blog and sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I have the opportunity to reach so many people through the simple act of posting my writing to this page.
While writing this blog every chance I get is a part of my work here in Niger, it has also provided me with an outlet for my thoughts, pains, and struggles. I take great joy and pride in writing these entries and feel a sense of relief at knowing that the people I look to for support in the States have a little bit better understanding of my experiences. Writing has become a sort of therapy for me and has opened a window to a kind of creativity that I have never tapped into before.
So, thank you for continuing to read my blog and please continue to share it with your family, friends, co-workers, etc.
“To whom much is given, much is expected”: With a great deal of time for thought and reflection, I have found myself thinking a lot about the American culture of giving, or the lack thereof. Here in Niger, as it is largely a Muslim country, people are very giving. If a struggling family with little money cooks a meal that will barely feed their own children and you show up to the house at dinnertime, they will gladly feed you despite the fact that they may go hungry themselves. This kind of generosity is not shown only to me being that I am American. In Niger, this kind of generosity is shown to all people regardless of their color, religion, socioeconomic status, etc.
One afternoon in my village, I read a newsletter from the organization that I used to work for in San Francisco. There was a piece on a woman who volunteers for the organization in which she offered insight into the reasons behind her desire to volunteer with adults with developmental disabilities. She mentioned having heard the quote, “To whom much is given, much is expected,” and how much it resonated with her.
After reading the piece, I found that I was also very struck by this quote. I began to think about the life that I have been blessed with and the opportunities available to me. I am one to whom much has been given and I do believe that as a person who has been lucky enough to lead such a privileged life, I am obligated to give back to those who were not dealt the same hand as me.
I am trying to apply this way of thinking to all that I do here in Niger. I am trying to be a more giving person – I want to adopt the Nigerien idea that when you give to another, something positive will eventually come back to you. I want to be less concerned with how my giving something away will affect me, but how it is going to improve the life of those who are on the receiving end. I find that when I am asked for money, I immediately think about the fact that if I give my money away, I won’t have it anymore and I think of all the things I can no longer buy with that money. When asked for something I own, I deny the request as if what I have is irreplaceable or absolutely necessary to my survival, when the truth is whatever they have asked for is available in abundance in the U.S.
I am trying to consciously change my thought patterns so that I am no longer concerned with what I will or will not be able to purchase with that money (and undoubtedly, what I would want to buy is nothing that I absolutely need). I truly have all that I need, especially in the material sense, and I know that I have the ability to help those who are in need and don’t have access to all of the things that they need to survive. I hope that in these next two years, this way of thinking becomes second nature and no longer requires an extra thought from me. If I can achieve this, then I believe I can bring the giving spirit of Niger home to America and perhaps it will lead others through example to the benefits of giving even in times of hardship.
“Ay man faham.” – Language Barriers: Learning two new languages, switching between the two (sometimes within the same conversation), trying desperately to understand what’s being said to me, and trying to make myself understood is a daily struggle for me. It gets easier with every passing day as I get more and more comfortable with both French and Zarma, but there have definitely been moments full of miscommunication.
One afternoon during my first month at post, I went to the main road to search out some street food for a snack. I went to my favorite Solani (yogurt in a bag) guy and bought a couple bags of Solani. As I was walking back to my house, a group of men starting calling out to me. I heard them yelling “wundiya” (Zarma word for young woman), Madame, and making the “Pssst” noise that is perfectly acceptable in Niger when you wish to get a person’s attention. I thought that this group of men was just trying to get my attention because they wanted to talk to the Annasara (Zarma word for stranger/white person) and I was not interested in dealing with all of the marriage proposals that were inevitable in this situation. That being said, I ignored the men and kept walking. Of the few words that I could actually understand, I heard them saying Solani amidst the rapid flow of Zarma coming from these men. At this point, I thought without a doubt that they were just interested in harassing me and wanted nothing more than for me to give them the Solanis I was carrying. I continued walking with my head held high and walked with a purpose, determined not to let these men get to me. They continued to yell to me until I was out of ear shot. I was irritated and wished that I had the language to tell them that they were disrespectful and should be ashamed of themselves.
I was nearing the end of my walk back to my house when I looked down at the bag I was carrying with my Solanis in it. I noticed that I didn’t have a good hold on the bag and my Solanis were dangling precariously from the bag, about to fall to the ground. I realized in that moment that the group of men was not yelling at me to harass me and ask for my Solanis, they were calling out to me to tell me that I was about to lose my Solanis. I instantly felt horrible and recognized that I was too quick to assume the worst in this group of men.
When you’re in a new culture, learning a new language, and trying desperately to figure out how to integrate, these things are bound to happen. I definitely learned that even though I stick out like a sore thumb here and everyone is interested in me, that everyone is not out to get me. In fact, here in Niger, it is quite the opposite. The people of Niger are so welcoming and understand how important it is to treat their guests with warmth and kindness. Another lesson learned…
Le Lézard et le Savon: As you all may know, I have the luxury of an indoor bucket bath area in my house. It was painted dark blue by the previous volunteer and provides a great haven for those unsavory creatures that abhor the light and wish to torment me with their presence. Among the menagerie of insects that wish to call my “bathroom” their home exists one pleasant inhabitant: a gecko. He is about four inches from nose to the tip of his tail, his coloring is a mixture of neon greens and pinks, and I have named him Jack.
I enjoy having this little guy around – he’s cute, tiny, and he helps in my quest to control the insects in my house. Although I do love Jack, he has one slightly irritating habit – he has an affinity for soap and habitually expresses his love for soap at four in the morning.
The previous volunteer left behind a small blue soap dish and two pieces of old, petrified, Nigerien soap. I have neglected to dispose of this soap as a direct result of laziness and no real need to get rid of it. I first learned of Jack’s love of soap one morning when I happened to be awake at 4am because I was making frequent trips to the latrine due to a case of food poisoning. I had just laid down after an episode of flushing out whatever toxins had found their way into my system and began to hear the sound of something banging around in my bathroom for about five minutes. I was a little unsettled by the noise and unsure of its cause, but too sick to care that much.
The next morning, after recovering from the food poisoning, I decided to see if I could find out what had taken place in the bathroom the night before. I wasn’t entirely sure I would like what I was going to find, so I made sure to arm myself with a flip-flop before entering the bathroom. I flipped the light switch on and walked into the bathroom, arm cocked with flip-flop in hand poised for the kill. Luckily, there were no unsavory creatures to speak of and I was able to relax and survey the scene. I looked around and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary right off the bat, but then I noticed that a piece of petrified soap was missing from the soap dish. I glanced around the bath area and found the missing piece of soap lying next to the drain hole of my bath area. I immediately connected all of the dots and realized that it must have been Jack who had made all of the racket the night before.
I left for the capitol that day, so I wasn’t able to figure out if it was truly Jack that had been playing with the soap. However, when I returned to my village, my suspicions were confirmed when I was awoken again (on multiple occasions) in the early morning by the same silly behavior and came to find the soap in new location the following day.
Jack is an excellent addition to my home, but I can’t help but wish, especially at four in the morning, that he preferred my soft, noiseless loofa to soap. Then perhaps I could at least sleep soundly until the first call to prayer at five in the morning. But, if soap keeps Jack around, I suppose I can learn to live with it.
Hincinizey (Baby Goats) – My Babies:
John Henry: He was the first-born, a strapping young man with his white fur speckled in tiny brown spots just like his mother. He was obviously eager to greet the world as it only took about ten minutes for him to make his entrance. He learned to stand and walk within an hour of his birth and had a very healthy appetite.
Now, nearly 3 ½ months later, John Henry is growing fast – his belly widening with every passing day. Although he was the first born, and the larger of the two born that evening, he is a timid fellow and doesn’t like to venture too far from his mother’s side. In all honesty, he’s a “Mama’s Boy.” Even though he is too weary to really explore his curiosities, I love him dearly and hope that with age and maturity, he gains the bravado to leave his mother’s side and make his own way.
John Henry is center and that's his mama to the right.
Eating...as usual.
He's a bit camera shy.
Just hangin' out.Jacco: As the second-born, he was significantly smaller than his big brother and had his work cut out for him. He was wide-eyed and curious from the start, but he simply couldn’t get his legs to cooperate and couldn’t get moving as quickly as he obviously hoped to. Eventually, he found his legs, and just like John Henry, he had a very healthy appetite.
He was my favorite from the moment he entered this world. He is solid brown with a small white blaze on his head. He looks nothing like his mother or brother, so I can only assume he got his father’s good looks. During his first few weeks of life, I would pick him up and pet him and he would often tuck his head between my shoulder and my neck and fall asleep. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that one should not cuddle with baby goats – they give you rashes and ringworm. As my mother always told me, “Look with your eyes, not with your hands.” It’s taken 26 years, but I think I may have learned my lesson. However, he still comes to me for scratches from time to time and of course, I oblige.
In his fourth month of life, Jacco has grown into a strapping young lad. He is now equal in size to his brother and has got quite the belly these days. He remains curious and slightly mischievous – often encouraged by the third baby of the family whom I will introduce momentarily. If I had 100 CFA for every time I show up to my friend’s house to hear that my goats had eaten all of the food, I would be a wealthy woman.
This picture makes him look so big, but he's just a little guy.
He loves banana chips...and anything else edible for that matter.
I think he looks so regal in this photo. My handsome little guy!Bella: The lone girl in the bunch, Bella was born to my friend’s other female goat. She was born two weeks following John Henry and Jacco and was born an only child. As an only child, Bella was able to develop into a sizable young lady and despite being born two weeks later, was the same size as John Henry and Jacco. Even though she is not related to John Henry and Jacco, she is a perfect mix of the two – a patchy brown and white beauty.
Bella holds a special place in my heart. She is no princess, in fact the best way to describe her is as a troublemaker. From day one, she has been an independent and brave little lady. She is definitely the most daring of the three and certainly leads the pack in mischievous behavior. She pushes the boundaries on everything and the boys can often be found following in her step. She is a leader by nature and continually makes her own way in this world.
That's the "I swear it wasn't me!" face.
I have her attention now, but give her two minutes and she'll be into something else.
She's a sweet little lady.
Jacco and Bella snacking together.Shout Outs: I have to give this shout out to my bro! He has let me vent, even when I am simply overreacting to something trivial. He has picked me up in those moments when I feel so low that I can’t see even the slightest glimmer of a silver lining. He has encouraged me every step of the way through this adventure. And, he has reminded me on many occasions just how lucky I am to be here and how so many people would love to be in my place. Thank you Christopher – without you, I could never do this.
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