Today is August 8, 2009, and in just two days time, I will have been in Niger for 13 months. This marks the half way point in my service and officially starts the countdown to my return to the U.S. This milestone, like everything else I have experienced or encountered during my time in Niger, has sparked a great deal of reflection and thought.
I look at the time I have left in my service and instantly feel relieved that I am on the home stretch, but also stressed as it seems there isn’t nearly enough time to accomplish all the things I hope to in the remaining year of my service. Needless to say, this next year is certain to fly by and I hope to use this time in such a way as to finish my service in Niger with no regrets.
It has been about three months since I last updated my blog and a lot has happened during that time: I took my first vacation in nearly a year and visited my family and friends in the U.S. for a month, Niger entered into a time of civil and political unrest, the much anticipated rainy season got off to an excruciatingly slow start, I struggled to readjust back to life in Niger following an amazing vacation, a new group of volunteers arrived in Niger to begin their training, and hunger season has created an atmosphere of tension and uncertainty.
Times are hard, not just in Niger with the lack of rains and a countrywide food crisis, but in the world as a whole. As a Peace Corps volunteer, the challenges facing Niger have become my challenges and have created brand new obstacles for me to face in the attempt to accomplish my goals for my service in Niger.
Troubled Times Lie Ahead:
Hunger Season – Hunger season has been upon Niger for about five months. It is a time when Nigeriens face famine due to grain stores having been used throughout the previous year and the obligation to wait for rainy season to bring the water necessary to grow the crops that the majority of Nigeriens live on throughout the year. It is a time of desperation and daily hardship. It is a time in which many Peace Corps volunteers lose their beloved pets due to villagers struggling to feed their hungry children and seeing a source of nourishment in the volunteers’ cats and dogs. It is a time of illness as the rains bring disease-harboring insects and the lack of proper nutrition doesn’t allow for the production of much needed antibodies to fight infection.
Rainy Season – Unfortunately, the effects of hunger season are exacerbated by the fact that this year’s rainy season has been poor to say the least. Typically, the rains begin in mid-June, but are very sporadic. By July, the rains are starting to come more regularly, but still only fall about once or twice a week. In August, the rainy season has usually hit its full swing and the rains are falling at least every third day if not more. This lasts through the beginning of September and then the rains begin to taper off as October opens.
So far this year, the rains have fallen only a handful of times throughout the month of July and when the rains have come, they have been brief – barely enough to soak the ground. We are now over a week into August, a time when rains should be falling every-other-day and we have only seen the rains fall twice in my area. The rains have been so poor that farmers have had to plant and re-plant their seeds upwards of three to four times already this season.
World Food Crisis – A poor rainy season has dire consequences for a country like Niger, a country with little money and the majority of its population surviving on subsistence farming. Without a good crop yield, many Nigeriens will face famine throughout the coming year, especially those living in the bush. Incidence of malnutrition and illness will skyrocket and before long fear and desperation will drive people to extraordinary measures to feed their families.
Niger is not the only country facing such challenging circumstances. The world as a whole is facing a global food crisis and many third-world countries are facing famine. Droughts, desertification, global warming, and a slue of other environmental elements are effecting the world’s food production.
As populations grow exponentially in third-world countries and their national debts continue to spiral further and further out of control, these countries are forced to look toward their agricultural goods as a resource for raising foreign exchange capital. The global economy is such that the wealthiest nations are the ones able to afford the purchase of agricultural goods from third-world countries. With wealth comes power, thus the buyers from the wealthy nations have the power to set the prices of the goods they wish to import. The price of most exports from third-world countries fluctuate frequently and often leave the sellers with little to no profit. The money that is received for their exports is often regulated by corrupt governments and does not get distributed to the people. Consequently, the people of third-world countries are left with no grains to feed themselves and they never reap the benefits of the price their crops earn on the global market.
Despite the global market for export crops instability, many third-world governments continue to put a great deal of money toward export crop systems. More and more land is given to large-scale crop production, therefore taking away valuable croplands from the average citizen. Without access to land to grow their crops, people are unable to grow enough food to last throughout the year. This vicious cycle leads to drastic decreases in domestic food production and an increase in local market prices for grains.
Malnutrition – Niger is a sub-Saharan country with harsh climates and many environmental issues facing its landscape. There are few crops that thrive in such conditions and Nigeriens are at the mercy of the seasons in order to grow their major crops and their off-season vegetables. It is these factors that contribute to a diet that makes it difficult to reach the proper level of nutrition and caloric intake in a given day.
The human immune system is reliant on a constant and steady source of nutrients in order to serve its purpose and to reach 100% of its functioning. In a country that already struggles to find proper nutrition in its food sources, Niger faces an even greater lack of nutrients with the food crisis. As malnutrition increases, the immune systems of many Nigeriens will begin to break down and will no longer perform the vital task of fighting illness and infection. Many Nigeriens will succumb to illness and because their immune systems are not getting the proper nutrients to produce disease-fighting cells, they may not be able to fight off even the most common and basic of ailments.
Illnesses and Maladies – The rainy season, whether the rains are falling frequently or not, is a bug’s favorite time of year. While I would normally take this opportunity to report on my many encounters with six and eight-legged, winged creatures, the appearance of an abundance of insects brings with it a far more troublesome effect than simply annoying me. The rains and the humid atmosphere create a perfect breeding ground for disease-harboring insects.
Rainy season can be just as aptly called Malaria season. Plentiful bodies of standing water allow for the rapid procreation of Malaria-carrying mosquitoes and because most Nigeriens lack the proper protection against mosquitoes – Malaria prophylaxis, mosquito repellent, and mosquito nets – they are that much more susceptible to contracting Malaria. Along with Malaria, this is a season of Typhoid fever, Pink-Eye, and many other ailments.
To date, I have already made two trips to the hospital with my Nigerien family as both my “little brother” and my “father” were afflicted with Typhoid fever and Malaria, respectively. Both illnesses required a three-day stint in the hospital, constant IV fluids, and serum injections twice a day. On top of this being very frightening for the family as existing medical treatments in Niger, while better than nothing, remain very primitive and one never knows if the illness will claim the life of their loved one, hospital stays and the purchase of medications are very expensive. Luckily for my Nigerien family, they are financially stable enough to afford the medical care they require, but if the family continues to get sick, as they undoubtedly will during the next two to three months, the funds will run dry and they will be forced to seek other less effective means of treatment. For most Nigeriens, especially those living in the bush, hospital stays and the purchase of medications are not financially feasible and people are forced to rely solely on traditional medicines to cure their ailment.
For my part, I have tried my best to make sure that my Nigerien family has adequate mosquito nets to sleep in and when they do become ill, I try to contribute to the purchase of important medications and make sure that they receive the care that they need. I only wish I could do the same for all of the families in my village, but unfortunately such a thing is completely unrealistic.
Staying Positive – Despite the myriad struggles facing Niger, Nigeriens remain a very resilient and positive people. They continue to find reasons to smile each and every day and they will never cease to answer greetings with a positive reply. No matter what their current circumstances may be, no matter what hardships they may be facing, the Nigerien people continue to live their lives to the fullest and never seem to wallow in their own self-pity. They are grateful for each day they are given and for everything that they do have.
I have found this to be one of the most inspiring elements of life in Niger. It reminds me that although times may be tough and I may be experiencing daily stresses, poor health, or any of a number of struggles, I am lucky to be where I am and to be having such a unique experience. It’s a great reminder to be thankful for what you have and to live each day as if it may be your last. So, I encourage everyone to live a little more like the Nigeriens – stay positive, be thankful, and remember that tomorrow is a new day.
Calling All Storks – Mabel’s Expecting!: Ok, so maybe I can’t say this with 100% certainty, but with each passing week, it becomes more and more apparent that Mabel’s belly is growing. Let’s put aside the fact that she’s one seriously well-fed donkey for the time being.
A couple of weeks ago, my Baba mentioned to me that he was able to see Mabel’s teats. I believe the conversation went a little something this: “Hey Samira, ay go ga di ni farkay fuffey! Ay man di a fuffey kala sohon.” Translation: “Hey Andrea, I can see your donkey’s boobs! I didn’t see her boobs until just now.” So, it appears as though Mabel’s teats are starting to swell a bit, which leads us to believe she’s brewing a not-so-tiny bundle of donkey joy in that ever-growing belly of hers.
The same day, my Baba and I were taking care of Mabel when my neighbor walked over to the wall to chat with us. She remarked that she thought Mabel was growing and that she had gotten bigger around the middle. So, in Niger, a country in which all it takes to prove your identity is two people who will vouch for you, it would seem that Mabel is indeed pregnant as two people have commented on her current girth.
If Mabel is pregnant, her gestation should be approximately one year and if she’s pregnant enough to have slightly swollen teats, this means she was probably pregnant at the time I purchased her. And, if that’s the case, there may be an addition to the funny little farm I’ve created here in Niger around the end of 2009. So, everyone send Mabel and me your best baby donkey ju-ju so that I can spend the last few months of my service playing with a fluffy little donkey baby!
Interconnectivity: As most of you know, I have never been a religious person, nor have I ever been all that spiritual. However, I recently had one of those moments that revealed just how interconnected humans and nature are and how some greater power, whether it be a god, multiple gods, or some force of nature, maintains a certain balance in this world.
It started when my best friend in my village's husband got ill. He answered the first evening call to prayer in seemingly good health, but returned home afterward and within minutes was violently ill. We quickly arranged to take him to the village hospital and once he was settled in and given his first rounds of fluids and medications, I returned home for the night.
The next morning, upon arriving at the hospital to see my "father," I was told that early that same morning one of the family's prized ram was dead of unknown causes. My best friend then recounted the story of the previous year when she had gotten seriously ill and had to be hospitalized in the capitol. At the time she owned a cow, which are worth a great deal in Niger, and during her illness the cow inexplicably died.
After hearing this story and looking at the current state of my "father's" health, I began to reflect on the significance of the deaths of the family's animals. To some it may seem far fetched, but I truly believe that the animals were taken in order to leave room on this planet for my friend and her husband. Whatever the case may be, I am grateful that my friends are now in good health and that I have another day with them.
Shout Outs: I just realized that I haven’t been giving any shout-outs lately and that is simply unacceptable. So, I'm going to have to give this shout-out to one of my favorite ladies, Shalon. Not only has Shalon been one of the people who regularly calls me and gives me the support I need to continue living and working in Niger, but she has also coordinated with all of our friends at the gym to put together care packages for me. She has been an amazing friend and support system for me and for that I am truly grateful.
Shalon, you ROCK! <3
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
April 2009 - Stories and Reflections
A Battle of Epic Proportions – One Woman and an Army of Ants: It was the end of another blistering hot day and I was finally getting home after an evening with my Nigerien family. I had no more than stuck the key into the lock on my front door when the phone rang. I got the door opened and answered my cell phone. It was my parents making their weekly phone call. I quickly dumped my things and was getting ready to go back outside to chat with my parents (it echoes really badly inside my square, cement house) when I spotted a big ol’ cockroach on my screen door. I quickly told my mama that I needed to kill the creature quickly and asked her to bear with me for a second. This nasty, prehistoric looking insect was not going down easy and I proceeded to jump about the house chasing the cockroach with a flip-flop as it ran all willy-nilly around my feet. Needless to say, there was some screaming, a lot of missed attempts at smashing the cockroach, and a lot of ridiculous giggling as I hopped about the house. But, after a few misses, I was finally able to squish the roach and properly dispose of it in the yard. With the cockroach problem solved for the night, I went out on my raised patio and chatted with my parents. I put the bug incident out of my mind, but I should have known that there was more to come – the cockroach at my door was surely a sign…
I finished chatting with my parents and by that time it was about 10pm and I was ready to bathe and go to sleep. I went through my usual nightly routine of getting everything ready so that all I had to do after bathing was turn off the lights and climb into my mosquito net. I went into my indoor bucket bath area and inspected and detected, looking for any unsavory creatures that needed squishing. I didn’t see any bugs, but I did notice that there was an odd pile of dirt built up just inside the drain hole from my indoor bucket bath area to the outside of my house. I looked at the pile of dirt for a moment and tried to decide why it was there. Perhaps Mabel was sniffing around the hole earlier that day and she snorted causing dirt to fly in the hole. Or perhaps the frogs that tend to take up residence in my bath area during the heat of the day were back and they brought the dirt in with them. Or maybe it was some sort of insect. I decided to go outside and see what I could see from that angle.
I walk outside and around the side of my house and see a sea of giant ants. These aren’t your average, everyday breed of ants that are almost microscopic in size. These are ants on steroids! They’re about an inch in length and there are at least three different types of ants within the colony: there are slightly smaller ones that are very light in color and tend to blend in with the sand; there are medium sized ones with huge black heads and clearly visible pincher-like things, red middles, and black rear ends; and then there are the ones that are at least an inch long with wings.
So, now I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either I brave a bath and disturb the ants with the run-off from my bucket bath and risk being covered with ants while stark naked. Or, I take some Rambo, the insecticide used in Niger, and Rambo the heck out of the little beasts, risking them overtaking my bath area in their desperation to escape the Rambo and the confusion of their death throws. I opt for the latter, grab my Rambo, and powder every ant hole I see. When finished, I go back inside to see what’s going to happen and sure enough, hundreds upon hundreds of ants start pouring into my bathroom. And of course, they’re running around all willy-nilly because they’re in the process of dying.
Those of you who know me, know that this just isn’t my idea of a good time. I don’t like bugs and no matter how small they might be or how well I have adjusted to life amongst the insects in Niger, they still give me the heeby-jeebies. So, I want you to picture this, it’s 10pm, most Nigeriens are sleeping, and there I am in my bath area with a flip-flop in one hand and a broom in the other. One woman against literally hundreds of enormous ants. I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom floor, smacking ants as thy get close, brushing them down off of the walls, and making sure that none of them get past me and make their way into the main room of my house. This epic battle lasted for an hour and forty minutes. For an hour and forty minutes I stood in that bathroom smacking ants and cleaning up the carcasses until finally they stopped pouring into my bathroom.
Needless to say, I was victorious and finally was able to take a nice, cool bucket bath in peace with only one stray ant trying to come in my bath area and disturb me. I finished bathing and got ready to hit the sack as it was half past midnight and I knew Mabel was not going to care how late I was up and would start braying like clockwork at 6:30am.
Before heading outside to climb in bed, I gave my house a quick once over with my flashlight to make sure the ants hadn’t infiltrated the rest of the house. I shone the light into the room that I keep my clothes and bathroom supplies in and to my utter disappointment, I see that the battle is not over. This time it’s not ants that are challenging me to a dual, it’s a centipede. Centipedes are nasty looking creatures, they’re fast, and their sting is immensely painful. So, of course, I’m freaked out and angry at the world for putting so many unpleasant beings in my home.
I grab my trusty bug-killing flip-flop and prepare for the second battle of the night. This little creepy-crawler puts up quite a fight and zips left and right along the base of the wall. I see an opening for a good whack and I nail him, but it was as if he didn’t feel a thing. He continues to dart left and right. Suddenly he sticks is head in a groove and luckily for me, he’s just like an ostrich. He thinks he’s safe, but to his surprise, I give him another solid whack. This time I know he felt it, but he’s still zipping around as if unfazed. By this point, I am pissed. I’ve given the little intruder two good whacks, but to no avail. I’m ready to end this fight once and for all, so I gather my courage and I give him one heck of a smack. This time I know he’s not going to bounce right back, but the job still isn’t complete. I quickly give him one more really strong smack and finally he’s still. I watch him for a moment, brush him across the floor, but it is finally done. I conquered the beast! But seriously, four whacks?!?! Are you kidding me? Who on Earth decided that I was fit to volunteer in Niger, West Africa where the bugs have mutated into intelligent, fighting machines?
I may have won this battle, but the war is surely not over. The ants will rise again, but I can guarantee you (and them) that they will fall again!
Hot Season Observations:
1. Ducks don’t like the heat – my friends, the two women I eat lunch with each day, have two ducks in their concession, a male and a female. With the temperature topping out at nearly 120°F or more daily and the sun beating down on Niger through a cloudless sky, the desert sand is so hot that it will literally burn your skin. One afternoon on a scorching hot day, I went over to my friends’ house for lunch and sat down to chat with the ladies. During a lull in the conversation, I began to watch the ducks as they walked from their tiny pool of water across the hot sand to the muddy patch of earth just outside my friends’ bathing area. The ducks journey consisted of about 20 yards across the sweltering sand and as I watched them embark on their daring excursion, braving the hot sand just to nibble on some fresh green algae near the bathing area, I was overcome by laughter. A duck’s webbed feet are not immune to extreme temperatures and these two ducks certainly felt the blistering heat beneath their feet. These are large ducks, bigger than any you will find on the lagoons in Alameda, and thus they have very large feet. What this amounts to is a great deal of surface area that must touch the red-hot sand. In order to safely reach their destination, the ducks began to do a “hot sand dance” and hopped, to the best of a duck’s ability, toward the smorgasbord of algae awaiting them. They looked like a couple of scuba divers, with flippers on their feet, trying to run across the beach. Their little duck butts wagged to and fro, ever more pronounced than usual. (If you’ve ever seen the stage performance of Mamma Mia, I’m sure you can picture the scuba divers running around with flippers on their feet.) Perhaps I am simply starved for entertainment, but I was nearly rolling with laughter at the sight of these silly ducks with their waggling behinds. My laughter in turn caused my friends to laugh as they often think I am slightly bizarre simply because our cultures are so different.
Maybe you had to be there in order to fully understand the comedy of the moment, but when you’re sitting in 120°F heat, sweating so profusely that you’re salting your food as the sweat drips from every pore in your body, you take whatever laughter you can get.
2. The maximum temperature I have seen recorded in my area this hot season is 130.5°F. That’s ridiculously hot by the way!
3. Sweating is a constant during hot season. I wake up in the morning and the simple act of rolling over to tell Mabel, “Just five more minutes,” (she starts hollering at about 6:30am) creates beads of sweat on my forehead. During the day, I keep a bandana with me at all times so that I can wipe the sweat away from time to time because I’m dripping on or in everything I touch. I come home at the end of a very hot and sweaty day to bathe and hit the sack, and I’m still sweating! I bathe with some cool water from my guula (a ceramic water container) and as soon as I stop dumping cool water over my body, I start to sweat. I get ready for bed, all the while dripping with sweat, and climb into my mosquito net. After about a half an hour of lying completely still and staring up at the stars or reading a book, the beads of sweat finally disappear. And then, a blissful night of limited sweating. However, some nights I sweat throughout the night as well. The moral here is this: during hot season, I sweat virtually 24 hours a day.
“Festival d’Anglais” – Lessons Learned: On May 1, 2009, I finished my first major project in Niger. I ran a month-long “English Festival” with the students at the college/lycée (C.E.S.) in my village, which is the equivalent of an American middle/high school. I did after-school tutoring with four different grade levels in English for one week each. The goal was to help prepare the students in Troisieme (freshmen equivalent) and Terminale (senior equivalent) for their examinations at the end of the year and to help supplement what the other two grade levels had been learning in class.
The project was by no means 100% successful and did not run as smoothly as I would have hoped, but it was an excellent learning experience and helped me to see how best to run a similar project the following school year. Despite many set-backs, there were equally as many things that made every bit of my preparation for and commitment to the project worth every minute:
During the first week of the project, I was able to get to know an amazing group of 11 Troisieme students. They were incredibly motivated students, worked extremely hard, and I could tell they yearned for the extra help with their English. They enjoyed the tutoring sessions so much that they asked the following week if they could have more classes with me. There excitement about the project was infectious and with this particular group, I know that I actually reached them and that the work I had done with them was worthwhile.
Through preparing for and running the “English Festival,” I was able to develop excellent relationships with my counterparts and other staff at the C.E.S. in Birni. My main counterparts are four English teachers, two men and two women. They are the most amazing teachers and have so much passion for what they do. Teachers, let alone good teachers, are hard to come by in Niger and I truly believe that my village is one of the luckiest villages as it has some incredible teachers for all subjects. My counterparts speak very good English and they are so grateful for any help I give them or their students. I feel that I have 100% of their support in anything that I do and they are willing to guide me every step of the way. Words don’t seem to do them justice, they are just the most amazing people and every single day that I leave the C.E.S., I reflect on just how lucky I am to be able to work with them.
There are many things about this project that I wish had gone better, but the lessons I learned from this first attempt are invaluable and will make me all the more successful in the year to come. I look forward to the next school year and all the doors that have opened to me as a result of this project.
Internalizing the Thinking of Others: I have now been living in Niger for 10 months and I can comfortably say that I have integrated into Nigerien culture – I speak both a local language and the national language, I follow Nigerien customs and cultural norms, and I have become a valued member of my community. With this level of integration comes a great deal less daily stress, I no longer fight intense bouts of homesickness, and I now feel as though I can turn to villagers when I need emotional support or guidance. It is because of this level of integration into Nigerien culture that I have become truly happy and content in Niger.
However, with this level of integration comes new struggles and a new consciousness. Niger is a Muslim country and there are very strict gender roles. Men are the bread-winners, they are the heads of the household, and they are treated with the utmost of respect. Women are stay-at-home mothers, they are the ones who run the household, and they are not meant to be seen or heard.
While many Nigerien women have begun to challenge this oppressive system, many people still cling to these rigid gender roles. No matter how successful a woman may be in her education or career, she is still treated as a second-class citizen and men remain the most highly praised and respected.
After finally finding my place within Nigerien culture and within my village, I find that I am now significantly more conscious of this gender divide. I have become aware of the fact that I have begun to internalize this thinking that women are less than men. In social situations with men, I often find myself sort of cowering away from them and I allow them to treat me as though I am not the educated, successful, intelligent, and capable woman that I am. I allow men to completely disregard me while standing in a queue and move ahead of me. I allow men to climb onto a bus or bush taxi ahead of me even though I have been standing there, waiting patiently for my turn to board. I allow men to ask personal questions and probe into my personal life without reprimanding them. Worst of all, I allow men to treat me as though I am not as worthy of their respect as any other man.
This is something I would never allow to happen in the U.S. I am certainly not the most independent or strong woman, but I am confident in who I am and I believe that I deserve to be treated with respect. I try not to allow anyone to walk all over me and I will not be made to do anything I don’t want to do. I am proud of my accomplishments and I am proud of the woman I have become. That being said, I would never allow anyone, especially a man, to treat me with disrespect and to make what I have accomplished in my lifetime insignificant.
As I have become conscious of this internalization of a sexist system in Niger, I find that I view myself much differently than I used to when living in the U.S. My self-esteem and my pride in my accomplishments is no longer what it used to be. Sometimes I question whether I ever was the person I used to see myself as. I have started to simply accept the way I am treated by Nigerien men, thinking that I must deserve it. I know this thinking is not only unhealthy, but unrealistic as well, but when you live within a system that pounds this kind of thinking into you every moment of every day, you begin to believe it.
Part of the reason that I can’t combat this thinking as successfully in Niger as I would be able to in the U.S. is the language barrier. I simply do not have the vocabulary to shame a man who treats me poorly or acts inappropriately towards me. In the states, I would call a man out for mistreating me and I would make him feel like the scum of the Earth. I would stand up for myself and use my words to make sure there is no question about how I feel about the situation. Unfortunately, I just don’t have the language skills and the ability to think as quickly on my feet in a second or third language to make my feelings known.
Being conscious of this internalization is both detrimental and beneficial to me. Unfortunately, I am conscious of the way I am feeling and it can sometimes get me down. But, knowing what is causing me to feel the way I do gives me the opportunity to consciously try and change my thinking and to try to keep this system from stripping me of my pride and self-confidence.
Only in Niger…:
Only in Niger would you be in the middle of teaching an English lesson when the class is disrupted by a young goat walking into the classroom and making a great deal of racket.
Only in Niger would a child be squatting on the side of the road relieving himself in one form or the other and trying desperately to get you to say hello in response to his incessant “fofos.” (Maybe I’m just crazy, but I’m not all that interested in greeting a child who is squatting on the side of the road.)
Only in Niger would you be willing to plunge your hand into a communal bowl of food with four children who don’t use soap when washing their hands.
Only in Niger would you continue eating from a bowl that a baby chick just walk through and pecked around a bit.
Only in Niger would you sleep outside, under the stars, just 15ft. away from a pooping, braying, donkey.
Only in Niger would you be trying to give an English lesson with nearly 20 guinea fowl outside the window squawking obnoxiously.
Only in Niger would you be cooking at home with friends, using a can of Off! bug spray to roll out your home-made tortillas.
Only in Niger would your feet get so dirty that you can no longer distinguish between tan lines and dirt lines.
Only in Niger would you come home to hundreds of giant ants in your bathroom and then proceed to spend an hour and forty minutes trying to kill them so that you can take a bucket bath.
Only in Niger would you arrive at your house at about 9:30pm to find a scorpion waiting to greet you as you open the door.
Only in Niger are you able to buy a complete meal made from naturally grown and harvested goods for $1.50.
Only in Niger would you witness a chugging contest for a two-year-old little boy. No, he wasn’t chugging alcohol, this is a Muslim country and alcohol is frowned upon for people of all ages. But, he was chugging a cup of coco (a millet drink) to a chorus of children and adults alike chanting, “Wey, wey! Wey, wey!” And upon successfully drinking all of the cup’s contents, he threw his arms in the air and yelled, “Gagner!” (which means to win in French). It was absolutely precious!
Just Because It’s Funny…: I just don’t think it’s fair that none of you get to see just how ridiculous my hair is on a daily basis. So, once again, here’s a little taste of how things are going on the hair-growth front:
My first set of cornrows in Niger!
Lookin' vraiment Nigerien!
And then, I took the braids out...
I was going for a sort of Don King/Side-Show Bob look.
How'd I do?
The morning after braid removal.
I look like a troll doll...
...and to think this took no preparation at all.
The portrait of beauty!
Despite how crazy my hair may be, it is finally growing out and I can honestly say that I am finally starting to feel feminine again. I know that my femininity and my identity as a woman should not be wrapped up in my hair, but for me it is – in my world, long hair is the epitome of femininity. And slowly but surely, my hair, and thus my femininity, is returning!
I finished chatting with my parents and by that time it was about 10pm and I was ready to bathe and go to sleep. I went through my usual nightly routine of getting everything ready so that all I had to do after bathing was turn off the lights and climb into my mosquito net. I went into my indoor bucket bath area and inspected and detected, looking for any unsavory creatures that needed squishing. I didn’t see any bugs, but I did notice that there was an odd pile of dirt built up just inside the drain hole from my indoor bucket bath area to the outside of my house. I looked at the pile of dirt for a moment and tried to decide why it was there. Perhaps Mabel was sniffing around the hole earlier that day and she snorted causing dirt to fly in the hole. Or perhaps the frogs that tend to take up residence in my bath area during the heat of the day were back and they brought the dirt in with them. Or maybe it was some sort of insect. I decided to go outside and see what I could see from that angle.
I walk outside and around the side of my house and see a sea of giant ants. These aren’t your average, everyday breed of ants that are almost microscopic in size. These are ants on steroids! They’re about an inch in length and there are at least three different types of ants within the colony: there are slightly smaller ones that are very light in color and tend to blend in with the sand; there are medium sized ones with huge black heads and clearly visible pincher-like things, red middles, and black rear ends; and then there are the ones that are at least an inch long with wings.
So, now I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either I brave a bath and disturb the ants with the run-off from my bucket bath and risk being covered with ants while stark naked. Or, I take some Rambo, the insecticide used in Niger, and Rambo the heck out of the little beasts, risking them overtaking my bath area in their desperation to escape the Rambo and the confusion of their death throws. I opt for the latter, grab my Rambo, and powder every ant hole I see. When finished, I go back inside to see what’s going to happen and sure enough, hundreds upon hundreds of ants start pouring into my bathroom. And of course, they’re running around all willy-nilly because they’re in the process of dying.
Those of you who know me, know that this just isn’t my idea of a good time. I don’t like bugs and no matter how small they might be or how well I have adjusted to life amongst the insects in Niger, they still give me the heeby-jeebies. So, I want you to picture this, it’s 10pm, most Nigeriens are sleeping, and there I am in my bath area with a flip-flop in one hand and a broom in the other. One woman against literally hundreds of enormous ants. I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom floor, smacking ants as thy get close, brushing them down off of the walls, and making sure that none of them get past me and make their way into the main room of my house. This epic battle lasted for an hour and forty minutes. For an hour and forty minutes I stood in that bathroom smacking ants and cleaning up the carcasses until finally they stopped pouring into my bathroom.
Needless to say, I was victorious and finally was able to take a nice, cool bucket bath in peace with only one stray ant trying to come in my bath area and disturb me. I finished bathing and got ready to hit the sack as it was half past midnight and I knew Mabel was not going to care how late I was up and would start braying like clockwork at 6:30am.
Before heading outside to climb in bed, I gave my house a quick once over with my flashlight to make sure the ants hadn’t infiltrated the rest of the house. I shone the light into the room that I keep my clothes and bathroom supplies in and to my utter disappointment, I see that the battle is not over. This time it’s not ants that are challenging me to a dual, it’s a centipede. Centipedes are nasty looking creatures, they’re fast, and their sting is immensely painful. So, of course, I’m freaked out and angry at the world for putting so many unpleasant beings in my home.
I grab my trusty bug-killing flip-flop and prepare for the second battle of the night. This little creepy-crawler puts up quite a fight and zips left and right along the base of the wall. I see an opening for a good whack and I nail him, but it was as if he didn’t feel a thing. He continues to dart left and right. Suddenly he sticks is head in a groove and luckily for me, he’s just like an ostrich. He thinks he’s safe, but to his surprise, I give him another solid whack. This time I know he felt it, but he’s still zipping around as if unfazed. By this point, I am pissed. I’ve given the little intruder two good whacks, but to no avail. I’m ready to end this fight once and for all, so I gather my courage and I give him one heck of a smack. This time I know he’s not going to bounce right back, but the job still isn’t complete. I quickly give him one more really strong smack and finally he’s still. I watch him for a moment, brush him across the floor, but it is finally done. I conquered the beast! But seriously, four whacks?!?! Are you kidding me? Who on Earth decided that I was fit to volunteer in Niger, West Africa where the bugs have mutated into intelligent, fighting machines?
I may have won this battle, but the war is surely not over. The ants will rise again, but I can guarantee you (and them) that they will fall again!
Hot Season Observations:
1. Ducks don’t like the heat – my friends, the two women I eat lunch with each day, have two ducks in their concession, a male and a female. With the temperature topping out at nearly 120°F or more daily and the sun beating down on Niger through a cloudless sky, the desert sand is so hot that it will literally burn your skin. One afternoon on a scorching hot day, I went over to my friends’ house for lunch and sat down to chat with the ladies. During a lull in the conversation, I began to watch the ducks as they walked from their tiny pool of water across the hot sand to the muddy patch of earth just outside my friends’ bathing area. The ducks journey consisted of about 20 yards across the sweltering sand and as I watched them embark on their daring excursion, braving the hot sand just to nibble on some fresh green algae near the bathing area, I was overcome by laughter. A duck’s webbed feet are not immune to extreme temperatures and these two ducks certainly felt the blistering heat beneath their feet. These are large ducks, bigger than any you will find on the lagoons in Alameda, and thus they have very large feet. What this amounts to is a great deal of surface area that must touch the red-hot sand. In order to safely reach their destination, the ducks began to do a “hot sand dance” and hopped, to the best of a duck’s ability, toward the smorgasbord of algae awaiting them. They looked like a couple of scuba divers, with flippers on their feet, trying to run across the beach. Their little duck butts wagged to and fro, ever more pronounced than usual. (If you’ve ever seen the stage performance of Mamma Mia, I’m sure you can picture the scuba divers running around with flippers on their feet.) Perhaps I am simply starved for entertainment, but I was nearly rolling with laughter at the sight of these silly ducks with their waggling behinds. My laughter in turn caused my friends to laugh as they often think I am slightly bizarre simply because our cultures are so different.
Maybe you had to be there in order to fully understand the comedy of the moment, but when you’re sitting in 120°F heat, sweating so profusely that you’re salting your food as the sweat drips from every pore in your body, you take whatever laughter you can get.
2. The maximum temperature I have seen recorded in my area this hot season is 130.5°F. That’s ridiculously hot by the way!
3. Sweating is a constant during hot season. I wake up in the morning and the simple act of rolling over to tell Mabel, “Just five more minutes,” (she starts hollering at about 6:30am) creates beads of sweat on my forehead. During the day, I keep a bandana with me at all times so that I can wipe the sweat away from time to time because I’m dripping on or in everything I touch. I come home at the end of a very hot and sweaty day to bathe and hit the sack, and I’m still sweating! I bathe with some cool water from my guula (a ceramic water container) and as soon as I stop dumping cool water over my body, I start to sweat. I get ready for bed, all the while dripping with sweat, and climb into my mosquito net. After about a half an hour of lying completely still and staring up at the stars or reading a book, the beads of sweat finally disappear. And then, a blissful night of limited sweating. However, some nights I sweat throughout the night as well. The moral here is this: during hot season, I sweat virtually 24 hours a day.
“Festival d’Anglais” – Lessons Learned: On May 1, 2009, I finished my first major project in Niger. I ran a month-long “English Festival” with the students at the college/lycée (C.E.S.) in my village, which is the equivalent of an American middle/high school. I did after-school tutoring with four different grade levels in English for one week each. The goal was to help prepare the students in Troisieme (freshmen equivalent) and Terminale (senior equivalent) for their examinations at the end of the year and to help supplement what the other two grade levels had been learning in class.
The project was by no means 100% successful and did not run as smoothly as I would have hoped, but it was an excellent learning experience and helped me to see how best to run a similar project the following school year. Despite many set-backs, there were equally as many things that made every bit of my preparation for and commitment to the project worth every minute:
During the first week of the project, I was able to get to know an amazing group of 11 Troisieme students. They were incredibly motivated students, worked extremely hard, and I could tell they yearned for the extra help with their English. They enjoyed the tutoring sessions so much that they asked the following week if they could have more classes with me. There excitement about the project was infectious and with this particular group, I know that I actually reached them and that the work I had done with them was worthwhile.
Through preparing for and running the “English Festival,” I was able to develop excellent relationships with my counterparts and other staff at the C.E.S. in Birni. My main counterparts are four English teachers, two men and two women. They are the most amazing teachers and have so much passion for what they do. Teachers, let alone good teachers, are hard to come by in Niger and I truly believe that my village is one of the luckiest villages as it has some incredible teachers for all subjects. My counterparts speak very good English and they are so grateful for any help I give them or their students. I feel that I have 100% of their support in anything that I do and they are willing to guide me every step of the way. Words don’t seem to do them justice, they are just the most amazing people and every single day that I leave the C.E.S., I reflect on just how lucky I am to be able to work with them.
There are many things about this project that I wish had gone better, but the lessons I learned from this first attempt are invaluable and will make me all the more successful in the year to come. I look forward to the next school year and all the doors that have opened to me as a result of this project.
Internalizing the Thinking of Others: I have now been living in Niger for 10 months and I can comfortably say that I have integrated into Nigerien culture – I speak both a local language and the national language, I follow Nigerien customs and cultural norms, and I have become a valued member of my community. With this level of integration comes a great deal less daily stress, I no longer fight intense bouts of homesickness, and I now feel as though I can turn to villagers when I need emotional support or guidance. It is because of this level of integration into Nigerien culture that I have become truly happy and content in Niger.
However, with this level of integration comes new struggles and a new consciousness. Niger is a Muslim country and there are very strict gender roles. Men are the bread-winners, they are the heads of the household, and they are treated with the utmost of respect. Women are stay-at-home mothers, they are the ones who run the household, and they are not meant to be seen or heard.
While many Nigerien women have begun to challenge this oppressive system, many people still cling to these rigid gender roles. No matter how successful a woman may be in her education or career, she is still treated as a second-class citizen and men remain the most highly praised and respected.
After finally finding my place within Nigerien culture and within my village, I find that I am now significantly more conscious of this gender divide. I have become aware of the fact that I have begun to internalize this thinking that women are less than men. In social situations with men, I often find myself sort of cowering away from them and I allow them to treat me as though I am not the educated, successful, intelligent, and capable woman that I am. I allow men to completely disregard me while standing in a queue and move ahead of me. I allow men to climb onto a bus or bush taxi ahead of me even though I have been standing there, waiting patiently for my turn to board. I allow men to ask personal questions and probe into my personal life without reprimanding them. Worst of all, I allow men to treat me as though I am not as worthy of their respect as any other man.
This is something I would never allow to happen in the U.S. I am certainly not the most independent or strong woman, but I am confident in who I am and I believe that I deserve to be treated with respect. I try not to allow anyone to walk all over me and I will not be made to do anything I don’t want to do. I am proud of my accomplishments and I am proud of the woman I have become. That being said, I would never allow anyone, especially a man, to treat me with disrespect and to make what I have accomplished in my lifetime insignificant.
As I have become conscious of this internalization of a sexist system in Niger, I find that I view myself much differently than I used to when living in the U.S. My self-esteem and my pride in my accomplishments is no longer what it used to be. Sometimes I question whether I ever was the person I used to see myself as. I have started to simply accept the way I am treated by Nigerien men, thinking that I must deserve it. I know this thinking is not only unhealthy, but unrealistic as well, but when you live within a system that pounds this kind of thinking into you every moment of every day, you begin to believe it.
Part of the reason that I can’t combat this thinking as successfully in Niger as I would be able to in the U.S. is the language barrier. I simply do not have the vocabulary to shame a man who treats me poorly or acts inappropriately towards me. In the states, I would call a man out for mistreating me and I would make him feel like the scum of the Earth. I would stand up for myself and use my words to make sure there is no question about how I feel about the situation. Unfortunately, I just don’t have the language skills and the ability to think as quickly on my feet in a second or third language to make my feelings known.
Being conscious of this internalization is both detrimental and beneficial to me. Unfortunately, I am conscious of the way I am feeling and it can sometimes get me down. But, knowing what is causing me to feel the way I do gives me the opportunity to consciously try and change my thinking and to try to keep this system from stripping me of my pride and self-confidence.
Only in Niger…:
Only in Niger would you be in the middle of teaching an English lesson when the class is disrupted by a young goat walking into the classroom and making a great deal of racket.
Only in Niger would a child be squatting on the side of the road relieving himself in one form or the other and trying desperately to get you to say hello in response to his incessant “fofos.” (Maybe I’m just crazy, but I’m not all that interested in greeting a child who is squatting on the side of the road.)
Only in Niger would you be willing to plunge your hand into a communal bowl of food with four children who don’t use soap when washing their hands.
Only in Niger would you continue eating from a bowl that a baby chick just walk through and pecked around a bit.
Only in Niger would you sleep outside, under the stars, just 15ft. away from a pooping, braying, donkey.
Only in Niger would you be trying to give an English lesson with nearly 20 guinea fowl outside the window squawking obnoxiously.
Only in Niger would you be cooking at home with friends, using a can of Off! bug spray to roll out your home-made tortillas.
Only in Niger would your feet get so dirty that you can no longer distinguish between tan lines and dirt lines.
Only in Niger would you come home to hundreds of giant ants in your bathroom and then proceed to spend an hour and forty minutes trying to kill them so that you can take a bucket bath.
Only in Niger would you arrive at your house at about 9:30pm to find a scorpion waiting to greet you as you open the door.
Only in Niger are you able to buy a complete meal made from naturally grown and harvested goods for $1.50.
Only in Niger would you witness a chugging contest for a two-year-old little boy. No, he wasn’t chugging alcohol, this is a Muslim country and alcohol is frowned upon for people of all ages. But, he was chugging a cup of coco (a millet drink) to a chorus of children and adults alike chanting, “Wey, wey! Wey, wey!” And upon successfully drinking all of the cup’s contents, he threw his arms in the air and yelled, “Gagner!” (which means to win in French). It was absolutely precious!
Just Because It’s Funny…: I just don’t think it’s fair that none of you get to see just how ridiculous my hair is on a daily basis. So, once again, here’s a little taste of how things are going on the hair-growth front:
My first set of cornrows in Niger!
Lookin' vraiment Nigerien!
And then, I took the braids out...
I was going for a sort of Don King/Side-Show Bob look.
How'd I do?
The morning after braid removal.
I look like a troll doll...
...and to think this took no preparation at all.
The portrait of beauty!Despite how crazy my hair may be, it is finally growing out and I can honestly say that I am finally starting to feel feminine again. I know that my femininity and my identity as a woman should not be wrapped up in my hair, but for me it is – in my world, long hair is the epitome of femininity. And slowly but surely, my hair, and thus my femininity, is returning!
Friday, March 27, 2009
What was I thinking?!?!
Self-degradation – For Your Viewing Pleasure: Since one of my last blog entries was quite heavy and very unpleasant for many of you, I’ve decided to start this entry off on a lighter note.
Let me begin by saying that I wish I had never cut all of my hair off! Not only do I feel like my femininity was lost the day I cut off two ten-inch ponytails and more from my head, but it has been a source of great embarrassment for me in Niger because Nigerien women do not have short hair.
I cut my hair for two primary reasons: 1) I have always wanted to see what short hair would be like and I thought the timing was right since I would go through any awkward stages away from the people I generally want to look good for, and 2) I knew it was going to be hot in Niger and running water is scarce, so having all the hair I had before cutting it would have made things tough.
Needless to say, I am in the process of growing out my hair and I must admit that I am so glad I’m going through these ridiculous stages here in Niger rather than at home. So, for your viewing pleasure, comic relief, and my personal humiliation, here are the documented phases of hair growth in the seven months since I went all Britney Spears on myself one Sunday morning and completely buzzed my head:
Here's me on my birthday, two days after buzzing my head, looking like the poster child for fari masa. The quote in the picture reads as follows, "Life is like a fari masa. Sometimes it's delicious, and sometimes it makes you feel like shit."
Having fun with friends about three months after buzzing my head.
Rocking a faux-hawk about five months post buzzing.
First thing in the morning. Why I let anyone document this, I have no idea.
A nice profile shot.
At the end of a day of sweating and getting dirty. This is about seven months after shaving my head.
Again I ask, why do I document these things?!?!
Fresh outta bed...bright eyed and bushy tailed! Or should I say bushy headed?
After going to the pump to try and tame this rat's nest.
Alas, there is no taming that rat's nest. I feel pretty, oh so pretty! 
This is the view from just inside my front door.
To the immediate left of my front door. This is the kind of kitchen top chefs dream of!
Still looking to the left of my house toward the back. That's my bed. That's where dreams are made!
Looking to the right of my front door toward the back of my house. That's a guest bed, so go ahead and book your flights because you have a free place to sleep.
This is to the immediate right of my front door. This is the "sitting room." Looks luxurious doesn't it?!?!
A closer look at the "sitting room."
And, last but certainly not least, my bathroom. That's right people, that's all I got. Makes for a great bucket bath though!
Let me begin by saying that I wish I had never cut all of my hair off! Not only do I feel like my femininity was lost the day I cut off two ten-inch ponytails and more from my head, but it has been a source of great embarrassment for me in Niger because Nigerien women do not have short hair.
I cut my hair for two primary reasons: 1) I have always wanted to see what short hair would be like and I thought the timing was right since I would go through any awkward stages away from the people I generally want to look good for, and 2) I knew it was going to be hot in Niger and running water is scarce, so having all the hair I had before cutting it would have made things tough.
Needless to say, I am in the process of growing out my hair and I must admit that I am so glad I’m going through these ridiculous stages here in Niger rather than at home. So, for your viewing pleasure, comic relief, and my personal humiliation, here are the documented phases of hair growth in the seven months since I went all Britney Spears on myself one Sunday morning and completely buzzed my head:
Here's me on my birthday, two days after buzzing my head, looking like the poster child for fari masa. The quote in the picture reads as follows, "Life is like a fari masa. Sometimes it's delicious, and sometimes it makes you feel like shit."
Having fun with friends about three months after buzzing my head.
Rocking a faux-hawk about five months post buzzing.
First thing in the morning. Why I let anyone document this, I have no idea.
A nice profile shot.
At the end of a day of sweating and getting dirty. This is about seven months after shaving my head.
Again I ask, why do I document these things?!?!
Fresh outta bed...bright eyed and bushy tailed! Or should I say bushy headed?
After going to the pump to try and tame this rat's nest.
Alas, there is no taming that rat's nest. I feel pretty, oh so pretty! 8 Months and All I Have To Show For It Is…: Having been in Niger for eight months now, I have created quite the medical resume for myself. In the past eight months, I have contracted or experienced the following ailments:
1. Amoebas and Bacteria (twice)
2. A cold (too many times to count)
3. Ringworm (twice)
4. Unidentified rash on my neck (twice)
5. A period that lasted 30 days (yeah, you read that right 30 days)
6. Strep Throat
7. Food poisoning (really fun when your latrine is 30 yards from your front door)
8. Bacteria (twice)
9. Giardia and Amoebas
10. Yeast Infection
11. Heat Rash
***Numbers 2 – 6 were all contracted at the same time. October was a fun month!***
Ok, so maybe I have a lot more to show for my time here than this list of illnesses, but when I think about all of the ailments I have dealt with and come out stronger on the other side, I just want to pat myself on the back. I’m not the only volunteer in Niger who has been put through the ringer when it comes to getting sick, in fact my statistics are pretty much average. There are others who are always sick and I mean always. Yet another reminder that Niger is one of the three hardest posts in the Peace Corps…man, I am AWESOME!
“Sweat Until Your Clothes Come Off” – Hot As Sahel: Today is March 17, 2009 (that's the date I actually wrote this entry) and it is freakin’ HOT! As I write this entry, I am sitting in my house in nothing but a pair of soccer shorts and a sports bra, hoping that there aren’t any Nigeriens peaking into my house as this is highly culturally inappropriate. As a matter of fact, if I had it my way, I would be stark naked right now. Let me remind you that I am sitting and typing a blog entry, an activity that requires very little movement or physical exertion, and I am literally dripping sweat. Oh, and to top it all off, my fan petered out on me last night, so I have absolutely no respite from the heat.
THIS HEAT IS KILLING ME!
It’s about 5:20PM and the heat of the day has passed, but the thermometer in my house, which may or may not be all that reliable, reads 37°C or 100°F. I think it’s safe to assume that it was around 105°F at high noon today. Now, I know this doesn’t seem that hot to many of you, but consider two things: 1) I am from the San Francisco Bay Area where temperatures in the summer months tend to stay in the 80s, and 2) This is only the very beginning of hot season in Niger, which means that at the peak of the season, temperatures can reach upwards of 120°F. So, if it’s already this hot, I don’t even want to think about what the rest of this season has in store for me.
I’M MELTING!
I’ve become addicted to countdowns. I’m counting down the days until I can come home for a visit. I’m counting down the days until the World Cup. I’m counting down the days until the end of my service. And now, I am counting down the days until rainy season comes, which is roughly 100 days.
OH WOE IS ME!
Peace Corps Niger CRIBS: It doesn’t make any sense to me, but for some unfathomable reason, MTV wasn’t interested in doing a segment for MTV Cribs on my house here in Niger. I simply don’t understand how a plain, rectangular, cement structure with no indoor plumbing and a latrine in the yard doesn’t entice them.
Since MTV won’t do a segment on my humble abode, I have taken matters into my own hands and will now offer you an insider’s look into a Nigerien mansion.
Behold…
1. Amoebas and Bacteria (twice)
2. A cold (too many times to count)
3. Ringworm (twice)
4. Unidentified rash on my neck (twice)
5. A period that lasted 30 days (yeah, you read that right 30 days)
6. Strep Throat
7. Food poisoning (really fun when your latrine is 30 yards from your front door)
8. Bacteria (twice)
9. Giardia and Amoebas
10. Yeast Infection
11. Heat Rash
***Numbers 2 – 6 were all contracted at the same time. October was a fun month!***
Ok, so maybe I have a lot more to show for my time here than this list of illnesses, but when I think about all of the ailments I have dealt with and come out stronger on the other side, I just want to pat myself on the back. I’m not the only volunteer in Niger who has been put through the ringer when it comes to getting sick, in fact my statistics are pretty much average. There are others who are always sick and I mean always. Yet another reminder that Niger is one of the three hardest posts in the Peace Corps…man, I am AWESOME!
“Sweat Until Your Clothes Come Off” – Hot As Sahel: Today is March 17, 2009 (that's the date I actually wrote this entry) and it is freakin’ HOT! As I write this entry, I am sitting in my house in nothing but a pair of soccer shorts and a sports bra, hoping that there aren’t any Nigeriens peaking into my house as this is highly culturally inappropriate. As a matter of fact, if I had it my way, I would be stark naked right now. Let me remind you that I am sitting and typing a blog entry, an activity that requires very little movement or physical exertion, and I am literally dripping sweat. Oh, and to top it all off, my fan petered out on me last night, so I have absolutely no respite from the heat.
THIS HEAT IS KILLING ME!
It’s about 5:20PM and the heat of the day has passed, but the thermometer in my house, which may or may not be all that reliable, reads 37°C or 100°F. I think it’s safe to assume that it was around 105°F at high noon today. Now, I know this doesn’t seem that hot to many of you, but consider two things: 1) I am from the San Francisco Bay Area where temperatures in the summer months tend to stay in the 80s, and 2) This is only the very beginning of hot season in Niger, which means that at the peak of the season, temperatures can reach upwards of 120°F. So, if it’s already this hot, I don’t even want to think about what the rest of this season has in store for me.
I’M MELTING!
I’ve become addicted to countdowns. I’m counting down the days until I can come home for a visit. I’m counting down the days until the World Cup. I’m counting down the days until the end of my service. And now, I am counting down the days until rainy season comes, which is roughly 100 days.
OH WOE IS ME!
Peace Corps Niger CRIBS: It doesn’t make any sense to me, but for some unfathomable reason, MTV wasn’t interested in doing a segment for MTV Cribs on my house here in Niger. I simply don’t understand how a plain, rectangular, cement structure with no indoor plumbing and a latrine in the yard doesn’t entice them.
Since MTV won’t do a segment on my humble abode, I have taken matters into my own hands and will now offer you an insider’s look into a Nigerien mansion.
Behold…
This is the view from just inside my front door.
To the immediate left of my front door. This is the kind of kitchen top chefs dream of!
Still looking to the left of my house toward the back. That's my bed. That's where dreams are made!
Looking to the right of my front door toward the back of my house. That's a guest bed, so go ahead and book your flights because you have a free place to sleep.
This is to the immediate right of my front door. This is the "sitting room." Looks luxurious doesn't it?!?!
A closer look at the "sitting room."
And, last but certainly not least, my bathroom. That's right people, that's all I got. Makes for a great bucket bath though!Thursday, March 26, 2009
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. 
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. 
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...
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.
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!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
"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
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
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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.
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.
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!
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!
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