The Newest Member of My Family

And Now, Please Welcome Miss Mabel…: On March 14, 2009, I purchased a strong, healthy, female donkey for 37,000 FCFA (approximately 70 USD). She was brought to my village by a Fulani man from a village 16 kilometers away. She had made the long walk home throughout the night and arrived at my door hungry and thirsty. I immediately gave her a bundle of Subu (dry wild grasses) and a bucket of water.

Look at this beautiful girl!

She is definitely a Nigerien donkey as she is skittish and uneasy around people because her first years on Earth were spent getting hit with sticks and forced to work. She’s a stubborn lady, sort of moody, and all she does is eat, poop, and holler. But, she’s my girl and I love her for it.

We think she might be pregnant!

Mabel's hangar. She was hanging out with one of my favorite Peace Corps friends.

It has been two and a half weeks since I got Mabel and she is making herself right at home. She now comes when I call her, she nuzzles against my leg as I scratch her head and neck, she is getting more and more comfortable with taking food from my hand (she loves treats), and she follows me around the yard whenever I’m out there doing chores. The next step is to get her accustomed to walking around the village.

My villagers are all so excited that I got a donkey and can’t wait to see me riding around on her. They laugh so hard just thinking about it, so I can only imagine the hysterics that will follow once Mabel and I hit the town.

Taming the Beast…I Mean, Naming the Beast: In Nigerien culture, when a child is born, the family waits seven days to give the child a name. On the seventh day after the child’s birth, the family has a celebration, a prayer is said for the child by a religious leader called an Alfa or Marabout, and the parents reveal the name of the child to the Alfa. The Alfa then speaks the name alound to all those attending the celebration. This tradition and the celebration that follows is called a Cabey (pronounced Cha – bay).

I gave Mabel her name according to Nigerien tradition and waited until seven days after purchasing her to reveal her name. My villagers were quite impatient and constantly asked me what my donkey’s name is and when I responded by telling them to have patience and wait until the cabey, they would laugh hysterically. Half the fun of having a cabey for Mabel was going around the village telling my friends and counterparts that I had purchased a donkey and was going to have a cabey for her. They thought it was the silliest thing they had ever heard, but were excited about it and pleased that I was embracing their traditions, even if it was for a donkey.

Saturday, March 21, 2009, was the day of Mabel’s cabey. We had a small celebration at my friend’s house with fari masa and sauce, music and dancing, and many of my friends from the village came to celebrate with me. The women worked their fingers to the bone preparing the food for the celebration and three of my friends from the Peace Corps came to my village to meet Mabel and help her celebrate this momentous event.

The guest of honor, being the stubborn lady that she is, was a bit disagreeable as I labored to get her to walk with me to my friend’s house for her party. I let her off her lead in my yard with the intention of putting her on a sort of leash to walk over to my friend’s place and as soon as she was set free, she took off and went straight for her favorite spot to roll around in the dirt. She promptly plopped herself down in the dirt, rolled to and fro, and kicked up all kinds of dust. Once she was satisfied with her rolling, she proceeded to lounge around in the dirt, refusing to get up and get moving. And, I should add that we were already late to the party. Finally, she decided to get up, but then refused to let me put the leash around her neck. I literally chased her in circles around my concession. My friends were close to rolling in the dirt as Mabel had done because they were laughing so hysterically. After about ten minutes of chasing the crazy beast around the yard, she decided she’d like to listen to me and stopped so that I could put the leash around her neck. We then started the very slow process of walking to my friend’s house, but she kept a pretty good pace and didn’t fight me too much. Upon arriving at the party, she was introduced to her siblings from another mother, John Henry, Jacco, and Bella. Those three weren’t too thrilled with their over-sized guest at first, but eventually warmed to her and all were content. My friends offered Mabel some delicious subu and a bucket of water and Mabel was distracted enough to quit protesting.

She's a stubborn little lady. And, it doesn't help that she's not too fond of kids.

One of my friends from Peace Corps brought scraps of fabric for Mabel and I braided a special collar for her so that when she is finally allowed to wonder freely throughout the village, my villagers will know that she is Samira’s (my) donkey and that her name is Mabel. She was given her pretty new collar at her cabey.

After eating and drinking until we were close to exploding, we gathered under a shade tree and I quietly revealed Mabel’s name to the Alfa. My friend’s younger brother, one of the kindest most vibrant men I have met in Niger, served as the Alfa for Mabel’s cabey. He said a prayer in Arabic for Mabel and then revealed to my family and friends the name I had chosen for my donkey. After the short ceremony, I was congratulated and everyone seemed happy and content. My Peace Corps friends and I then untied Mabel and headed for home. The walk home was nearly as trying as the walk to my friend’s house as Mabel was a woman on a mission and was practically trotting in order to get herself home. I decided to show my friends the comedy that ensues when I try to ride Mabel and my friend whipped out the camera just in time to catch it all on video. One day, I’ll break that donkey, but for now, I guess she’ll be the one doing all the breaking as she hollers throughout the night, interrupting my R.E.M. cycles.

Hanging out at the party...

This is the Alfa as he was saying a prayer for Mabel.

The guest of homor in her fancy new collar.

Family photos...

I know her name is sort of old fashioned, but there’s an inside joke behind it and it makes my Peace Corps friends and me laugh! Plus, listening to Nigeriens say Mabel’s name is seriously hilarious!

"We Can Shake the World"

It has been nearly nine months since I packed my bags, left the Bay Area, and embarked on the craziest adventure of my life. It has taken a while, but I am finally starting to feel very content here and I feel as though I am really starting to thrive. One of my closest friends from Peace Corps Niger came to visit me in my village and he commented on how much he has seen me grow and change in the last 9 months. He even went as far as to say that I was glowing. It was then that I truly realized how much progress I have made here and that for now, this life suits me. I am excited to have reached this point in my service and I am even more excited that others can see it. I hope to be a positive example for others and perhaps I'll even be able to be an inspiration.

Even though I have reached a very positive point in my service, it can often be hard to find motivation and inspiration. I find myself listening more closely to the lyrics in songs or seeing quotations jump off the page at me as I am reading. Often times, these lyrics or quotes are just what I need to remind me of my purpose in Niger and to reignite the fire in me that made me come to Niger in the first place. I know that sometimes we tend to get lost in the day-to-day routine of the American lifestyle, so I thought I would share some of my inspiration with you in hopes that a flame will be lit anew within you.

This entry is the first of many to come, so be ready for a ton of updates!

Yes, I Do Actually Do Some Work Around Here!: My focus as an education volunteer here in Niger is going to be on teaching/tutoring English. I have chosen this area of focus for a few reasons:

1. After completing my service in Niger, I would like to go back to school to get a Masters in Education and teach high school English and English as a Second Language (ESL). Therefore, my experience in Niger will not only make for an irresistible resume, it will provide me with invaluable field experience, something that can never be learned in a university classroom.

2. English is something that I know and understand very well. I feel confident enough in my skills to help others as they learn the language and the students here can definitely benefit from learning from a native English speaker.

3. Teaching/tutoring English is something that interests me and I feel as though I can put a lot of passion into the design and implementation of English language related projects.

4. And, most importantly, the English teachers at the middle/high school in my village have expressed a desire to work with me.

I am in the process of preparing to do an “English Festival” with four grade levels in my village. This is something that the previous volunteer in my village did and it was a hit among the students. I will put my own spin on the project in hopes of making it my own and in order to keep it fun and interesting for the students who wish to participate. The project will run throughout the month of April and possibly a little into May. I will hold tutoring sessions every evening for one hour for four weeks. Each week I will focus on a different grade level: Troisieme (9th grade), Seconde (10th grade), Premiere (11th grade), and Terminale (12th grade). Troisieme and Terminale students have examinations at the end of the year – Troisieme students must pass an examination in order to move on to Lycee (high school) and Terminale students must pass an exam in order to graduate from Lycee. Both of these examinations have English portions, so I will work with those students on preparing for the test. With Seconde and Premiere students, I will focus on supplementing what they have learned in class and encouraging them to speak the language. Of the students who choose to participate in the festival, I will reward the student from each grade level who receives the highest marks in their English class.

After the English Festival, I will start work on preparing for three other projects. I would like to try and find funding in order to get the English department at my middle/high school books. There were books at one point in time, but they were essentially stolen by a teacher who has been moved to a new school. Therefore, my English teachers and their students have been trying their best to teach/learn without having books. This will be an expensive undertaking and finding someone to fund the project will be challenging, but the bottom line is that my school needs these books.

I will also work on designing a teacher training for English teachers in my sub-region. I will create a training curriculum in which my counterpart and I teach classroom management, curriculum design, positive reinforcement, and gender-sensitive teaching methods. I hope to have this project designed, funded, and implemented before the start of the next school year.

Lastly, I am currently working on designing a correspondence project between English students from my village and French students from my high school French teacher’s classes. This will be a letter writing project in which the students will write to one another once a month or once every two months, whichever time frame proves to be feasible. Each letter will have a topic that corresponds to both what the students are currently learning in class and to a specific cross-cultural goal. In this way, I hope to help the students practice what they have learned in class and to provide them with a greater knowledge of the culture of their counterparts. It is in this way that I also hope to address two of the primary goals of the Peace Corps which both involve cross-cultural education at home and abroad.

I would like to combine the letter writing portion of this project with a mini photo project. I hope to get each Nigerien student involved in the project a disposable camera and invite one of my Peace Corps friends who is a fabulous photographer to come and give a brief lesion in photography – how to use a camera, photo composition, etc. After the students learn how to use a camera, I will have them take their cameras home with them and ask them to document, through photos, a day in their lives. I will have them take photos of their home, family, friends, school, favorite places in the village, etc. After each student has taken their photos, I will have the film developed. The students will then write on the back of each image and describe, in English, what is seen in the picture. Once everyone has finished with their photos, I hope to send them to their counterparts in the U.S. I then hope to have the American students do the same thing, except using French, and have those pictures sent to Niger to be given to their Nigerien counterparts.

Organizing this project is a slow process as I have limited access to internet and phones, so communication takes more time than usual and nothing in Niger seems to happen in a timely fashion, according to American standards of time. But, I have about five months to get ready. This again will require that I procure outside funding and it may be difficult to do so, but this is something I truly believe in and can see a great deal of value in it, so if need be, I will fund it myself to make sure that it happens and these kids get the chance to participate in this project, something they may not otherwise have the chance to do.

High Hopes and Realistic Expectations – The 44th President of the United States of America: I know this entry is a little late as President Obama was sworn into office over two months ago, but with the current state of America’s economy and the difficult times many Americans are facing, I thought it would still be poignant to remind people that while it is necessary to put great faith and pride in our President, it is also necessary that we remember that he is just one man, one man who has inherited a very difficult task and has a mountain of damages caused by bad decision making to reverse. It is important that we hold President Obama to a high standard, but we must keep our expectations realistic and always remember that he is only human. We must trust that he will do his absolute best to turn America around and pull her out of this great hole she is in, but remember that this mess was not created over night and it will not be remedied over night. As Nigeriens would say, “Have patience.”

This was a prayer said for President Obama by The Right Reverend Gene Robinson (made famous as the openly gay Anglican bishop). Unfortunately it was not televised because of an "error in executing the inauguration ceremonies."

“Before this celebration begins, please join me in pausing for a moment to ask God's blessing upon our nation and our next president.

Oh God of our many understandings, we pray that you will bless us with tears, tears for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women in many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die a day from malnutrition, malaria and AIDS.

Bless this nation with anger – anger at discrimination at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants; women, people of color; gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. Bless us with discomfort at the easy simplistic answers we prefer to hear from our politicians instead of the truth about ourselves and our world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be fixed any time soon and the understanding that our next president is a human being, not a messiah. Bless us with humility, open to understanding that our own needs as a nation must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance, replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences.

Bless us with compassion and generosity, remembering that every religion's God judges us by the ways we care for the most vulnerable. And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of the President of the United States. Give him wisdom beyond his years, inspire him with President Lincoln's reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy's ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King's dream of a nation for all people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our ship of state needs a steady calm captain. Give him stirring words, we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color blind reminding him of his own words that under his leadership there will be neither red nor blue states but a United States. Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him strength to find family time and privacy and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters' childhoods. And please God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents and we're asking far too much of this one, we implore you oh good and great God to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand that he might do the work that we have called him to do. That he might find joy in this impossible calling and that, in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.

Amen.”

I found this prayer to be absolutely beautiful and a wonderful reminder that it is not just President Obama who has changes to make. We, the American people, have the resources and ability to make a difference in this world, whether it be at home or abroad. With the inauguration of President Obama, the United States has stepped into a new era, we have been granted a fresh start, and we have a responsibility to our nation and the world at large to take advantage of this opportunity and start inciting change.

Motivation and Inspiration: My mama sent me the new John Legend CD in a care package and being starved for new music the way I am, I listened to it right away. The last song on the album is called, If You're Out There, and as I listened to it, I got goose bumps from head to toe. It was one of those songs that really spoke to me and has a lot of bearing on my situation here in Niger. So, I thought I would share the lyrics with you and encourage you to listen to the song and take the time to really listen to its message.

If You're Out There
John Legend

If you hear this message
Wherever you stand
Calling every woman
Calling every man

We’re the generation
We can’t afford to wait
The future started yesterday
And we’re already late

We’ve been looking for a song to sing
Searched for a melody, searched for someone to lead
We’ve been looking for the world to change
If you feel the same then go on and say

If you’re out there
Sing along with me
If you’re out there
I’m dying to believe
That you’re out there
Stand up and say it loud
If you’re out there
Tomorrow’s starting now, now, now

No more broken promises
No more call to war
Unless it’s love and peace
That we’re really fighting for
We can destroy hunger
We can conquer hate
Put down the arms
And raise your voice
We’re joining hands today

Oh I was looking for a song to sing
Searched for a leader
But the leader was me
We were looking for the world to change
We can be heroes
Just go on and say

If you’re out there
Sing along with me
If you’re out there
I’m dying to believe
That you’re out there
Stand up and say it loud
If you’re out there
Tomorrow’s starting now, now, now

If you’re out here
We can shake the world
Believe again
It starts within
We don’t have to wait for destiny
We should be the change that we want to see
If you’re out there, oh oh oh

If you’re out there
And you’re ready now
Sing it loud
Scream it out

If you’re out there
Sing along with me
If you’re out there
I’m dying to believe
That you’re out there
Stand up and say it loud
If you’re out there
Tomorrow’s starting now

If you’re out there
If you’re out there
If you’re out there

If you hear this message
Wherever you stand
Calling every woman
Calling every man

We’re the generation
We can’t afford to wait
The future started yesterday
And we’re already late

The Life and Death of Po-Po: A Goat's Story

WARNING: This is a sensitive topic and the images in this entry are graphic at times. Please be aware as you read ahead and do try to read the entry in its entirety.

Most of you know that when in the U.S., I am a strict vegetarian, very strong in my beliefs and set in my ways. As I have mentioned in a previous entry, I have abandoned my vegetarian ways while living in Niger because I came to recognize that the process of raising, slaughtering, and consuming of meat in Niger is nothing like the meat industry in the U.S. – an industry that disgusts and appalls me.

To give a little background as to why I feel the way I do, I’ll give a very brief history of the practices of the meat industry (focusing on beef cattle) and contrast it with the process typical to Niger. Cattle are what is known as ruminants. They are one of very few animals that are capable of breaking down grasses and turning them into nutrients. They have evolved as grazers and serve a very important role in the sustainability of grasslands. That being said, cattle are not meant to eat anything other than grasses. Their digestive system was built to break down grasses and it serves them well. In the States, beef cattle are kept on crowded, filthy farms and they are fed corn as it has been proved to bring cattle to slaughter weight significantly faster than grazing. Not to mention, corn is so widely produced in the U.S. that it is cheaper to feed the cattle corn than grass. Because cattle are not designed to break down corn, they are prone to illness and are pumped full of antibiotics on a daily basis. In short, the piece of meat that makes it to your dinner table is dirty, as it often finds its way past USDA inspections, and ridden with antibiotics. Not only does the meat industry mistreat the animals and muddle with an evolutionary path, they are extremely wasteful in their practices.

Niger essentially conducts itself in a completely opposite manner. That’s not to say that their methods are perfect; there are still sickly and underfed animals in Niger, but the process here is much more natural and small-scale. Each Nigerien family, finances permitting, often has 2-3 sheep or goats that they raise and breed. Their animals are either taken out to graze in the fields or are fed grasses and grains at the home. They are not pumped full of hormones or antibiotics and while they are kept in confinement, they are given the space to move and are not forced to sleep in multiple layers of their own excrement. The animals are valuable to the families, serving as both food or profit if sold.

Because I carry the beliefs I do, I have always thought it necessary for me to truly experience the process of slaughtering, preparing, and eating an animal. As Niger is a Muslim country, I am not able to actually have a hand in the slaughter of an animal because the religion states that only a Muslim man is to take part in the slaughter of animals. However, given the opportunity, I took part in and documented the slaughter of a friend’s goat for her going-away party as she completed her service in Niger. The experience was difficult and left me trembling and in tears, but I learned a lot both about the process and about myself. The slaughtering of animals is never a pleasant experience, but I truly believe that the process here in Niger is one that is natural and respectable.

In the next portion of this entry, I will share with you both in writing and through images, the process of slaughtering, preparing, and eating a goat in Niger. As I mentioned at the opening of this entry, the images can be somewhat graphic at times. I have tried to use this opportunity not only as a learning experience, but as an opportunity to explore some of my creativity in writing and in photography. It is my hope that this portion not only serves as a cross-cultural learning opportunity for my readers, but as an exhibition of art. As you read ahead, I ask that you keep those things in mind and look at this as a chance to learn more about Niger and Muslim culture.

Meet Po-Po, a three-year-old male goat. He was purchased in early 2008 with the intention of fattening him up to be slaughtered in celebration of the closing of a fellow volunteer's service. Until his death, Po-Po lived a wonderful life. He had friends, was well-fed, and given plenty of space to move about and stretch his limbs. He was never given any medications and he lived out his days in the warmth of the sun.

Islam strictly states that an animal to be slaughtered must be done so in the name of God by a Muslim man. Therefore, prior to killing the animal, a prayer and blessing are given. It is also stated that if multiple animals are to be killed, no animal should ever see the killing of a fellow animal. In my opinion, this practice creates a human-animal connection and promotes a true appreciation for the sacrifice of the animal and its ability to meet many daily human needs.

This is in contrast to the Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) common in the United States. These CAFOs hold large numbers of animals, often inside and at high concentrations, with the goal of producing as much meat as possible at the lowest possible cost. These animals are placed on conveyor belts at slaughter time and are moved through the process in rapid succession. Mistakes are often made, animals suffer as a result, and there is little accountability among CAFO empoyees.

Animals in Niger are killed by slicing the throat and allowing the blood to drain from the animal. While the process is not necessarily quick, it is done in such a way so as not to cause the animal any distress. In watching the slaughter of Po-Po and subsequent killings for Tabaski, the Muslim holiday that follows the end of Ramadan, it was clear to me that the animal was calm prior to its death and there was very little struggle on the part of the animal. There were no cries of protest from the animals, nor did they fight the men keeping them still. While the animals undoubtedly felt some pain, a fact unavoidable in the killing of animals, they were not distressed or combative which allows for an easier passing.

Once the animal is clearly dead, the men begin to skin the animal. This is done by first cutting into the skin at the base of one hind leg and separating the skin from the flesh and bone. The men then begin to blow into the hole, which pushes air between the skin and flesh throughout the animals body (picture this as a giant animal balloon). They then remove the animals genitallia and discard it as it is considered dirty. The skin is then cut away from the body and set aside for other uses.

The process used in the slaughter and preparation of animals in Nigerien culture encourages that people be held accountable for their actions and does not allow people to use the "out of sight, out of mind" thinking to justify the practices of its people - a state of mind widely accepted in the United States.

After skinning the animal, it is then gutted. The skinning and gutting of the animal is not bloody or disgusting as the method they use to slaughter the animal allows the blood to fully drain before proceeding. The entrails are set aside to be washed, diced, and placed onto skewers to be cooked at a later time. The head and hooves are also set aside to be cooked the following day in a goat head stew. The carcass is then laid flat and two five-foot-long sticks are pierced through the skin in the shape of an X (see below).

A spit of sorts is constructed and the carcass is propped up against it. A fire is then lit about four feet away from the meat. The meat is slow cooked for about six hours and I can't even begin to tell you just how tender and tastey it turns out. Many of the following pictures document the cooking process and some I took in an attempt to create art out of an unfortunate situation.

The following day, Po-Po's head and feet were boiled and then placed ina sauce to be served over pounded millet. I made it a point to participate in every aspect of Po-Po's slaughter and wanted to experience all that he had to give to the community. That being said, I ate some of Po-Po's brain, tongue, and other mystery parts. I didn't enjoy it one bit, but I do have an appreciation for the fact that not a single part of Po-Po's body was wasted. Every piece of his body had a specific use and there was absolutely no waste in this process.

I write this entry not because I wish for everyone to become vegetarians. On the contrary, I simply hope to open people’s minds to other ways of doing things and to inspire people to think more about what they eat and the systems they support in their consumerism. I am not against the eating of meat; what I am against is the maltreatment of animals and the diversion away from the human-animal connection. Challenging the meat industry in the U.S. is my way of standing up for what I believe in. I do not expect everyone to feel the same way as me. I challenge you to find what it is you stand for and start taking action to insight change – whether it be the welfare system, the lack of programs for the homeless in San Francisco, or the rights of people with developmental disabilities. Whatever it is that you believe strongly in, I hope that this entry inspires you to think about it and how you might start to aid in that cause.

Suggested Reading: If you are at all interested in finding out more about the food we eat in America, I strongly suggest reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan, if you haven’t already. It will begin to give you insight into what it is that makes it onto your dinnertable in the evening and into your digestive system without being judgmental or invasive. I found it to be a great introduction to the world of food and how it is used and misused in the U.S. And, as an added plug, it was written by an author from Berkeley, California – shout out to Cali!

6 Down...20 To Go!

Where Does the Time Go?: As of today, January 10, 2009, I have been living in Niger for six months. This is not only the longest I have ever been away from home, it is the longest I have ever gone without being able to see and touch the people I love. These sixth months have presented me with challenges that I never thought I could possibly face and while this has been one of the most difficult experiences in my life, it has undoubtedly made me a stronger, wiser, and more compassionate person. For that, I am truly grateful and will continue to fight through the homesickness, language frustrations, and cultural struggles in order to successfully finish my service in Niger.

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.

Photos!

It's photo time again! These are meant to help give you an idea of what my living situation is like and who some of my friends are.

Bismillah...

This is a seasonal lake just outside my village. It's absolutely beautiful.

Another shot of the lake.

I saw these kids as I was walking home from the lake and thought it would make a great photo.

Another shot I took while walking.

They really wanted to have their picture taken. This reminds me of AT&T commercials...more bars in more places ;)

This is the view from my concession door...that's my house!

Facing my house, this is looking down the left side. This is my AWESOME shade tree.

This is looking toward the right from my concession door.

This is the view from the front door of my house, looking out toward my concession door.

Looking at my raised patio and the front door of my house.

That black patch on the right is my burn pile.

Looking down the right side of my house. The green patches are melons!

This is my dilapidated shade hangar...I'll be using it as my goat shelter.

Looking down the left side of my house at my latrine - close-up to follow.

This is behind my house...not all that exciting.

My water spigot!

These giant toads live at my water spigot. Sometimes there are 7-9 of them piled on top of each other between the rocks. I love them!

I talk to them every night when I get water for my bucket bath. "Hello little froggies, what're you doing?" (some of you will know exactly which voice I use for this one-sided conversation.)

My latrine: this is where the magic happens...every morning, promptly at 6:30am...seriously, you could set your watch by it. What? Too much information? Welcome to my world!

This is the view from the mesa accross the road from my house. The pole in the center of the photo is the radio tower - that's essentialy my house.

The view to the left from my favorite place to sit on the mesa.

The view to the right...

This is the soccer field below the mesa where I will put on a bi-annual soccer tournament...in sha allah.

This is my baba (father) in my village. Doesn't he look strickingly like Morgan Freeman?

This is one of my best friends at post. He is a fabulous tailor and one of the most positive people I know. He rocks!

This is the woman whose family I eat with every night. And, that little guy on her back is "my son."

Warning: I have promised to bring this little guy home with me to the U.S. He is my favorite baby!

One of my favorite people (the woman I eat dinner with) and some of her motley crew.

We laugh so much when we're together!

My little brother (my friend's son).

This is one of my favorite little guys. He's such a sweet kid and so loving!

She has an amazing spirit and reminds me so much of home!

This little girl is an absolute sweetheart.

The girls!

I don't know this woman, but I thought this would be a nice photo.

Another one of my best friends at post. This woman rocks!

I think she is so incredibly beautiful.

This is her daughter...I love this kid, she is so sassy (just like her mom).

Oh so cute!

Another great friend who is the wife of the brother of my friend above. She is such a gentle soul.

Her little boy...this is the face he makes all the time. So silly!

Another friend that lives in the same concession as the two friends above. She never fails to make me laugh!

This is her husband. He plays the drum at village weddings, baptemes, etc.

This is their eldest son...he has such a gorgeous face and is the sweetest little boy.

Their youngest son. This guy can dance and can already bang out a beat on the drum - just like his daddy.

Their little girl. She got in the bucket on her own - we don't know why.

...she hates the camera! (This is one of my favorite shots!)