Sunday, May 24, 2009

Four Seasons

In Niamey. Came in because I 1)chipped a tooth and so have a dentist appointment and 2) wanted to grab my passport so I can participate (incha allah) in a bike ride in Benin this coming week - though nothign certain yet.

It rained last night, a good solid rain. So that begs the question, Is rainy season here?

Of course in Gaya we had our first 'rain' way back on April 20th, but it was a pitiful amount and since then there have been a couple of good sprinkles, but nothing substantial that has really gotten people excited to plant their fields.

In honor of the upcoming (and long awaited) rains I wanted to give a brief summary of the four seasons Niger style:

June - September : Rainy season. The long dry spell which lasts the entire year finally breaks and the dust, quite litteraly settles, so that things have a cooler and cleaner feeling. The temperatures drop, at least when it's raining, which is a god-send at night when hot season can make it almost impossible to sleep. The downsides are that after the rains, the strong sun here will pull the mositure back out of the ground and it can become VERY humid - think the South in the US, only with hotter sun, but just as much humidity. It feels like the earth is breathing out one long steady hot breath. Another downside is the bugs. They die out over the long dry spell, but come the rains, come the mosquitos, flies, etc. This is malaria season as well as planting season.

October - November : Mini Hot Season. After the rains end there is typically a two month period where the heat rears its ugly heat again. Really I think that the heat never went away, the rains just mitigate it a lot and so after the rains it seems as if the whole world heats up again. This is harvest time as well so lots of hot work for Nigeriens.

December - Febuary : Cold season. Keep in mind cold is a relative thing here. Cold could be 80 degrees, but sometimes it gets down to the parka wearing depths of 60 degrees... parka wearing if you're a Nigerien, though for me, a fleece is enough. Surprising how we can become accustomed to a certain range of temperatures. I frequently think, oh it's not too hot today, only to look at a thermometer and see it read 95. Cold season can be nice since it's 'cold', but it's also the start of the long dry stretch where everything green starts to wither and die and the dusts of the Harmatten start to haze the sky and coat everything in the house in a fine layer of sand. This is the time when people do their gardening so tomatoes and other veggies are more available.

March - May : HOT season. Pretty self explanitory. 110-115, even as high as 120 in some places and times, though not usually that hot in Gaya. The dust of cold season continues to hang around, but the winds stop blowing for days at a time and the heat can just settle in like a blanket that one can never throw off. Pretty terrible at night when the temperature barely changes from the day time. Life during hot season is largely onr of trying to stay as cool as possible, naps in the afternoon, and a lot of sweating. Bus rides are a bad idea during hot season (though unavoidable usually). The saving grace of hot season is that the mangos start to ripen.

Just a short post about nothing. Small chat on the weather if you will.

Kala Tonton.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Musings on Development

A short preface for this essay: I just started reading The End of Poverty by Jeffrey Sachs and will be reading Dead Aid when I receive a copy in the next couple weeks (thanks mom and dad!), so my opion here (and as the side bar says, MY opion, Peace Corps' it is not) may change and evolve, as perhaps this essay will as well as I shift through the thoughs even more. This is just my view at the moment as I exist here in Niger; West Africa. Enjoy.


Development in Africa - Big Men, NGOs and Money

I heard a book review on BBC a while back about a book by a Zambian author, entitled Dead Aid. It’s about development in the third world, or I guess more like what’s wrong with it and why development here in Africa lags so far behind. I’ve yet to read it, but a copy is on the way, and from what I hear, its themes tie in with much of my musings and conversations of the past couple months as I start to sum up in my head what I’ve done here, what I’ve seen, learned, and accomplished.

Up front, Africa is not the US, Africa is not Europe, not Asia, or anywhere else. Africa is a unique place (aren’t they all really?) and what works elsewhere will not here. Africans see the world differently, they value different norms.

African culture is centered heavily on Big Men, that’s to say chiefs (village, tribal, etc), governors, presidents, generals, dictators, even the local police sergeant. There’s a certain affinity to look to these people and to have a sort of patronage relationship where, if you just go along and support him, you’ll get something in return. In fact, glad handing to important types is so important, people will even allow themselves to be humiliated by Big Men and give no resistance. It’s why I have to inform the Inspector, the Mayor, the Prefet (like a local governor), the local counselors, and everyone deemed important before I so much as think of doing something.

This is a system and way of thinking that pre-dates the arrival of white folks (read Europeans). I just read Things Fall Apart and the first section is pre white arrival and one can clearly see these themes expressed. Colonization only played into and upon this system. Europeans appeared and became the Big Men of Big Men through intimidation, violence, and lots of nice, shiny things to sell and give away. All these being acceptable ways of becoming a Big Man, Europeans were easily integrated into the social hierarchy in Africa as the Biggest Men without altering society at all. In fact, supporting this system just helped Europe maintain its control. What use would encouraging democracy and civil equality have to six white guys trying to maintain control and dominance over 3 million black people?

Maybe you can see how, after Europe pulled up stakes and left following World War II, there was a sudden power vacuum for the new Biggest Men. Europe said, “Now that we’re gone, you should have governments like we do,” but it was a concept without foundation in Africa, even under European rule. Sure, people could understand the concept, those with high levels of education could even cherish the idea behind it – equality – but without an anchor in social life, democracy is a concept like quantum theory, to be taught in schools, to profess knowledge and acceptance of, yet, secretly at night, in bed, to admit to oneself that there’s something that is floating just out of conceptional reach, making the whole thing sort of alien and unreal, unnatural.

Can we superimpose a vision of social order upon a culture that has historically been arranged around another, almost opposite, concept? No. At least ‘no’ in the short term. Culture change usually takes a long time, something America and Europe are learning the hard way in other places where we’ve tried to ‘encourage’ democracy.

And even in our own past we can cite examples of change occurring at a slow pace. In the United States, where ‘all men are created equal’ is the most basic concept professed in our culture, it has taken hundreds of years to progress to the point where in reality men and women of different color really do have equal rights and there’s still room to move forward. How long will it take for this to happen in a land where ‘all men are not created equal, some are Big and many are Small’? It’s no wonder that half a century after African ‘independence,’ countries are still trying to figure out what their society represents and where it is going.

Like America and European societies, development, economically and in terms of health, wellness of life, must be tied to ‘development’ socially. Perhaps it is better to term it as a ‘move’ toward more liberal and humanitarian thought, a more just, equal, and predictable society, since some may not view this as ‘development’, but social change, for good or for bad (development would imply ‘good’ and many people see African society as just fine where it is). In the West this social ‘development’ (or ‘change’ or ‘move’, whatever) started with those on the bottom, the farmers in colonial America, the proletariat in France, the serfs and indentured servants of the world raising up to demand their place at the table and their piece of the pie. The idea that development only really occurs if everyone gains benefit, all boats rising together, as I recently found myself explaining to one Nigerien colleague with whom I was having a conversation about the topic.

In Africa, development has been mostly done backwards. The influx of big money in the 80’s and 90’s just went, for the most part, to support Big Men and the Big Man mentality. Instead of helping, this money has been a hindrance in many ways.

During the 60’s and 70’s there wasn’t really that much in the way of aid going to Africa, and I think Africa was actually more firmly on the path to development than it is now. Speaking for Niger at least, I can say for certain that education and infrastructure were better developed than how. I have to clarify though, that’s to say they were better developed for those with access. Yes, those living in the bush still went without, but those educated were well educated and those living in the cities had well planned and modern cities. From this start, which was largely funded by the governments and private enterprise of the countries themselves, the road to development, as happened in the US and in Europe, runs from the cities outwards to the ‘bush’ or ‘countryside’. And this is where Africa lost its way on the path to ‘development’. The West, I think rightfully, thought that they could provide money and help rural Africa develop, but instead of really helping, we just gave tons of money to allay our guilt at seeing starving children on the news.

This new influx of money went first to the governments, where, being of the Big Men mentality, everyone skimmed a little off the top as it made it’s way out to the bush. Africans expected this to happen, they still do really, but now it’s usually written into a budget as ‘per-diem’, what people are paid daily to just come and do what they should come and do anyway. However, Africans also expected governments to actually do some development, and this is the normal path of the farmers, the workers, demanding of their government an equal chance in life. What changed was that money began shifting more and more to NGOs and away from the government exclusively as the West saw the graft and waste governments were creating and instead of demanding better accountability, they just tried to work around the problem, hence the birth of the Non-Governmental Organization as imputis for development.

Two things happened with this development on ‘development’. First, governments got a ‘get out of jail free’ card to play on actually having to do any real development. NGOs were now the real face of it, not government Big Men, who were now just supporting actors allowing them to hold power and profit, but show even poorer results. Second, NGOs started throwing money into one project after another as budgets grew and grew and grew through the last two decades of the 20th century. But this money came with no long term support or coordination within the country, what should have been the role of government and local actors, meaning that many projects that had cost much to start ultimately failed due to a lack of oversight and long term vision.

In the 1980’s in Gaya, for example, some NGO came in, saw the river, saw the climate, and thought ‘this area could do really well if we brought in fruit trees and planted orchards here.’ GREAT idea. This area is ideally suited for mango, orange, lime, grapefruit, banana… So the NGO built workers’ housing, irrigation, provided transport, seeds, and know-how to the initial workers, and then they left. No real thought was put into what happens next. The government took over for a while, but the money was never the same and everything began to fall into disrepair, disarray. Eventually, maybe some four years ago, the government finally just said ‘enough is enough, we’re done, we’re outta here.’ Luckily for Gaya, fruit orchards, once started, are a pretty easy thing to keep up. I’m not sure entirely how they were divided up, but now they are all privately owned and in addition to the fruit trees most private spaces also sport vegetable gardens thanks to the proximity of the river and some wells long ago dug by the NGO. The buildings, buses and farm equipment are still here, but they’re falling down or rusting hunks of scrap with no use. Gaya’s biggest development story has a happy (enough) ending since it transitioned easily into private business, but what if this had been a story of school buildings or material, or a water pump for a village (as opposed to an open well – both time/energy saving and more hygienic), or a hospital? The NGO’s pull out, and then the government’s, would have meant the whole thing would have collapsed, a waste of time and money in the end.

So now money has corrupted an already corrupt system. Aid money has, I dare say, set Africa back on the path to development. It has become, as Reagan era reformers would say, a hand-out society, where, at all levels, from small villages to Presidents, everyone just expects some fund, foreign state, or most likely, some NGO to come in with a bunch of money, spread it around, and then leave, probably leaving some new shiny stuff behind as well. ‘Development’ has become about overseas Big Men bringing stuff and money to those in need and after twenty, almost thirty, years of that, it has become the new standard and expected by all.

Being a Peace Corps volunteer, I get the bad end of that standard. I’m not a big NGO (or even a small one) with money or stuff to give to people. The idea is that, unlike many NGOs, I integrated into my community, became a part of it, while the Swiss NGO in Gaya, of which I never see the two white guys running it, hunkers down in their big beautiful house with guards, a cook, and air conditioning. Fairly enough, they work mostly in the bush, not in town, but why do I never see them in market or even just walking around? Because they are money and stuff and I am community and integration and an attempt to understand where I live.

As a volunteer, I’m more about connecting with people to exchange ideas and culture. And, really, that is what development in Africa needs the most: Guidance and ideas, not money. A road map on how to move forward, not the means by which to do it. It needs people willing to go live in a village for a year or two to teach them about desertification or nutrition or clean water or the importance of sending their children to that brand new shiny school the government or some NGO just built next door, instead of holding them at home. Sounds like Peace Corps, I know, but what needs to be different, is that these people should really know what they’re talking about. Peace Corps trains volunteers for two to three months before they head out to post, that’s not sufficient to really provide knowledge on many subjects. It’s lucky for us that, being Americans, and highly educated Americans for the most part (it’s not easy to make it into Peace Corps without higher education) we already have a head start on most villagers so we can fake deeper knowledge than we have. It’s not a stretch for us to know hand washing is important, but for an African villager….

More importantly than training Americans, or whatever other foreigners may chose to live as Africans in Africa (JICA!!! Japanese are awesome!), development in this way, that is, community based, should really be done by, what Peace Corps terms as, Host Country Nationals (HCNs) – people who live in that country. Training them for three months is different than training us. Language – not a problem. Cultural integration – not a problem. Just get them trained on the information; how to plant fields more efficiently, how to fight soil erosion, how to rehydrate a baby with diarrhea. To employ HCNs in this way would provide much needed jobs and would help develop, not just knowledge at the village level, but social development – Imagine a woman trained and sent by the government to help farmers farm better, that would turn some heads. Even just a man would mean stirring the pot a little and that’s something that’s need to create social change.

A teacher and a community development agent in each village!

This type of agent wouldn’t be something for Peace Corps to train, don’t get me wrong. That’s not Peace Corps’ role. But the ultimate goal of PC is for us not to be needed anymore for development. I would love to see one day where PCVs are cultural ambassadors, who may work with HCN development agents on projects, but whose real ‘job’ is just to integrate, spread good will on the behalf of Americans and to take home an understanding of foreign culture to share with others.

Being an education volunteer, that’s the area I usually focus on the most when I think about development. Education, though, really is the base of development. Education in the ABCs and in soil restoration are equally important and both are sorely neglected, but formal education, schools, as I mentioned before are, unfortunately, worse now than they were ten, twenty, thirty years ago. That’s entirely true, from a matter of perspective. Let me explain.

Starting in 2000, Niger launched a ten-year education plan to revamp a system that stagnated through the late 80’s and 90’s. The goal was to bring a school within reach of every child. Admirable. Problem was, who’s going to teach in this school? Under 14 years old is the fastest growing population group in Niger, so that means not only ‘who’s going to teach this year’, but ‘who will be the teacher that we will need to add to that school in two years and then again another the year after and then again another new teacher two years after that’. Niger started a crash course program to train teachers and send them into the bush, which unfortunately has just produced many poorly trained and underpaid teachers. So education may be more widespread than previously, but on a whole it’s of poorer quality as compared to the 70’s, for example, where schools may only have been found in the big towns, but they were funded, equipped with books and university educated teachers, not only from Niger, but from other West-African countries, in other words, a quality education, though limited in its access.

This is nothing to say about the lack of funding the program has received from Niamey. Months will go by and teachers won’t be paid. No wonder they go on strike what seems like every other week (though something must be mentioned about the French influence here…). I just recently read a manifesto published by the biggest teacher’s union in Niger, the Société National des Enseignants du Niger (SNEN). The manifesto demanded that the government immediately produce the promised money for the ten-year plan that has been undistributed for almost a year now, amounting to billions of francs CFA, millions of US dollars. That’s money, not just for teacher’s pay, since that tends to be the first thing paid, but for also for books, school buildings, everything within the educational system. The manifesto warned of an implosion of the education system if nothing changed and I’m not sure that was just tough language. Would you do the hard and all too often thankless task of teaching for free while you see members of government getting acquitted of embezzlement charges and drive home in their brand new Hummer? What kind of future teacher will a student who receives a sub-standard education make, and what kind of downward spiral in educational quality does this mean?

Africa is a land of Big Men and the Big Man mentality. The Big Men drive hummers and send their kids to private school and the rest of the country watches and says nothing, or says very little because the squeaky wheel gets greased in Africa, but not usually in a good way. The sudden influx of money and NGOs in the 80’s and 90’s just increased the monetary power of the Big Men while letting them shirk many of the responsibilities of doing the actual development work. That’s not to say things haven’t progressed in the last twenty years at all, they have, just horribly, horribly slow when it comes to government services. Private sector has boomed in Africa. Even in small and remote villages one can often find cell phones, and when standing on a certain termite mound, facing east at 4:30AM, a network signal. Buses now criss-cross the country, meaning (more) reliable transport of people and goods, though roads remain questionable. Even in the public sector, education is more widespread, though not of an acceptable quality and health ‘huts’ are a common feature in most moderate sized villages, though, again, adequate training of employees is sometimes lacking. One just needs to look at Ghana or South African to see true democracy on the march.

What is needed to put African back on the path to true ‘development,’ both in the terms of services and socially, is a little tough love. The money needs to be harder to get, it needs to be given only when appropriate accountability can be shown. NGOs need to stop spending and giving blindly with their hearts and work with local actors to create long term vision and development. A lot of that will require more people like Peace Corps volunteers, people who can help create links between local communities and NGOs, between communities and government. These facilitators don’t have to be Peace Corps, better even if they’re HCNs, but they have to be someone integrated, trusted, and respected by a community, but not a Big Man with money and power, someone normal, someone anyone in the village could become, someone who just knows people and things, someone who embodies knowledge for development’s sake. Whether Nigerien, American, or Japanese, people in these type of positions are the way forward to drive change, call it ‘development’ if you think it’s good, both in terms of society and services rendered and knowledge gained.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Wednessday

4/29/09
Woke at Megan’s house in Malanville, slept real well with belly full of taco and beer.
Made a trade of bike maintenance on her breaks for coffee and bread with Nutella, then off to Gaya. I decided to take the ‘back road’ once on the Niger side of the river, but even with no semi-trucks to threaten flattening me, it was a bad idea cause I had to fight the sandy path the whole way, mostly up hill. I went straight to the inspection and was pretty much soaked in sweat by the time I got there. Rinsed off at the tap nearby, but that just added to the look of a drowned rat.
Chatted, made formalities with the inspection peoples, and then was asked to get their new computer in order.
It was a computer brought from CEGII, one of our middle schools which was granted a couple of computers by an NGO, but has no power… Typical. So someone had the idea to use it at the inspection, and they need a computer, so this is good. Unfortunately, someone also had the idea of first using it at one of the local cyber cafes. (Well, only one works now, so I guess it was the cyber café). This is bad, since it was taken there without any anti-virus software installed and began its career at the inspection chalked full of viruses.
Had a hell of a time with it, every time I tried to install the antivirus it would crash and restart; some virus defending itself by preventing the installation was my guess. Had to revert the computer to it’s initial state to get Avast installed, then scanned the hard-drive: 437 infected files of some 4000 scanned. Over 10% filled with viruses.
Now that it’s protected, we have to figure out a way to get office onto the computer – I had to delete it, reverting to a previous-to-installation date to get Avast to work. They have a pirated copy of Office 2007, but it won’t install until we get Service Pack 2 installed, which is difficult when there is no internet…
Said I’d come see what I could do in the afternoon. For now, lunch.
Went to Illiasou’s shop for a water and ended up eating lunch with him. He gets food from his brother’s wife who is a great cook, so I like to eat with him and it’s always African style, with our hands, which I also like. Hung there for a while, then back to my place to do some laundry: sheets, 1 of the 2 pairs of pants, 3 of the 4 pairs of boxers. Can’t bring myself to buy more – rather would save the money for the trip, besides I have some…. They’re just in Niamey.
Watched some of How I Met Your Mother and slept a bit during the hot part of the day and by 4 was back at inspection to try to do Avast and Windows updates.
My Inspector actually has an internet connection which works over one of the the cell phone services. It’s just REALLY REALLY slow. But even though it was too slow to get the updates downloaded over a three hour time frame, I was able to check my email and prepare the first three days of this “week of posts – a week late” for the blog. I count it a success then.
Then I got a text from Sommer, a fellow volunteer who was coming down to visit, saying that she was at the bus station, so I made my way there on my bike (scary night-time ride). Went back to my place, made curry, caught up on life, and then, 9:30PM, time for bed. Tomorrow, James and Serette are coming and we’ll be headed to Malanville for pool and pounded yam.


I guess that makes a week of daily posts. I did get a little long-winded in the end, talking about nothing much, but, regardless, I hope y’all enjoyed it and have a better idea of what my day to day life is like. I may actually take to writing more often if I stay here in town for a while, though I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Tuesday

4/28/09
I knew it wouldn’t last. I am writing this entry the morning of the 29th at the inspection, listening to theories of Kaddafi (the Libyan president) as a destabilizing factor for countries. Evidence: He passed through Mauritania, now there are problems there. Then he passed though Guinea, now problems there. Just a month ago he was here in Niger…. Problems to come?
Anyway, this is supposed to be about yesterday, Tuesday. Up and going through the normal morning routine, when my attention was drawn from the overly juicy mango I was eating to the knocking at my front gate.
Dripping juice from my chin and elbows I made my way to the tap to rinse and opened to door. It was Megan, she had biked up from Malanville to do our radio show that afternoon. I hadn’t been expecting her till later and here she was already at 8AM. No big problem. Welcoming Megan in, I told her I needed to run by the inspection quick. I had a meeting with Saidou to talk about a possible field trip with some student government kids.
Took a show and then my leave after a bit of catching up, being over a month since we had last seen each other.
At the inspection everyone was gone, all out in the bush doing a tour of schools. Even Saidou who I had just talked to the day before was MIA. So typical and so frustrating.
Deciding maybe I’d try again in the afternoon after the radio, I was taking my bike out onto the road when I saw something strange: Someone white. Well whiter at least than your average Nigerien. It was the new JICA volunteer in town, Hidenori. We had been texting back and forth a bit, but had yet to make a face to face meet.
Stopping by the road side, we exchanged pleasantries. He’s learning Haussa and not very strong yet in French so we had limited comprehension, but sill all good to talk to another foreigner. Was leading him back to my place to hang there for a bit when I saw Saidou flagging me down.
Stopping by the road side, again, (second time within 100 feet), I talked to him for a couple minutes. Introduced him to Hidenori and asked about the plans for our possible trip.
Here’s the run down on this work stuff –
Right now, Ibrahim, who works at one of our local NGOs that works with human rights is really into the student government concept. It fits well with teaching civic rights/responsibilities, children’s rights, etc. He has been instrumental in helping fund the elections (ballot paper, envelopes, etc.) and now wants to organize a training for the student leaders to help them better understand their roles. He asked me when I saw him last week if Saidou could be the one to lead it since he had been at my training in Niamey.
Saidou, who works at the inspection, wants to do a trip with a small group of students and teachers from each school to Kollo, where there are student governments which have been in place for a couple years, as a way of seeing SGs already up and running. A way for students to have an idea what they themselves should be doing their own SG work.
Similar ideas right? Help students understand their roles and responsibilities within the student government frame-work? I thought, hey let’s combine, work together. We can do a couple days of training and then a trip, or vice versa, trip then training. Either way they seem to work well together.
Saidou was pretty cold to the idea and after pressing him on it, he said he wants Ibrahim to ask him personally if he wants to be the trainer, not to go through me. It’s a Nigerien respect thing. Can make work hard when you have to worry about insulting someone all the time, I was just trying to be a communication between the two. Guess I better figure out a solution for that, I still want to do a combined project and the school year is running by, so we need to get on this quickly.
After telling Saidou I’d talk to Ibrahim about asking him personally, I left with Hidenori for my house. There we chatted along with Megan for a bit, then he was off to get oil for his motorcycle – Yeah, Peace Corps get bikes, JICA get motorcycles. Meh.
Megan and I finished up the radio script for that afternoon, which I had done most of the day before. Needed her to bring knowledge of Meningitis, since I know next to nothing about it except that we’ve had a outbreak recently in Niger and now Doctors Without Borders is doing a vaccination campaign that I wanted to promote on the show (“Meningitis is bad! Get your kids vaccinated!”).
-- They call Meningitis ‘jinde kobu’ here : twisted neck --
The show was also to be on Malaria since World Malaria Day was just a couple days before and the hospital and other locations were giving out mosquito nets. I wanted to make sure people understood their importance in malaria prevention (i.e. “don’t sell them, don’t use them as fishing nets”). Also talked about symptoms, treatments, and other prevention techniques, like cutting down all the weeds behind the house where mosquitoes are likely to hide during the day. Prepared lunch while we finished up, the napped under the kitchen fan for about an hour before getting stuff together and biking to the radio station.
After the sweaty ride in the 110degree heat up the hill, we got there, started to set everything up, and then…. Power outage. Typical. No power = no radio. We sat and waited, but our whole time passed and no power, so we started to get ready to go and, as if on cue, the power comes back on. Again, Typical. TIA – This is Africa. Oh well, next week then.
From radio station, biked to Malanville. Megan had just returned from Cotonou and had brought some SOUR CREAM with her, so we were going to make tacos.
Quick stop at the market for flour and peppers, and a delicious, semi-frozen bissap (hibiscus juice), then to her house. Everything was made from scratch except the beans (from a can) – tortias, bean and tofu filling, salsa, sour cream. Amazingly delicious.
After dinner we went out for a beer with Melanie, the German student is doing some research and work on fish and fish stock in Malanville.
Two beers, good conversation (in English!) and back to Megan’s for a well deserved bucket bath and bed.
Played a little harmonica. Megan said I should play her to sleep, so did just that, then put my own head down and slept well and deep.
One problem on that day – Didn’t memorize the day’s quota of ‘The Raven.’ Leaving that for the morrow.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Monday

4/27/09

Up at 6, sore from a rough night of sleep on the millet stalks (maybe sorghum?), but was eager to get on the road before it got too hot. Left Sia by 6:30 and was on the open road. Felt great, as always, to be biking. Makes me look forward to our end of service motorcycle trip through Europe.
Broke for a fruit and nut bar, water, and stretch break at what I thought to be about half-way, then back on to continue to Gaya. Reached here at around 8:30, so two hours, a little longer I’m guessing than the last time I made the trip, but last time I had been biking more and was in a little better shape. Good news though, is that sitting here writing this up tonight, I’m not the least sore or achy from the ride.
Once back, I did the morning routine, showered, had a quick breakfast, and then was off to the inspections. Neither inspector was around, nor was my counterpart for student government work, Saidou, whom I had been hoping to catch. Made him a call, set up a meeting for tomorrow morning, happy that my French and zarma skills are to the point where phone calls are generally easy affairs and that communication is now not really much of an issue.
Visited both inspections briefly and then came back home to do laundry, now an almost daily experience, having moved most of my stuff, including clothes to Niamey when I thought I was leaving. That leaves me with only a like five shirts, two pairs of pants, and four pairs of underwear. Now that everything is there, why go through the effort of bringing it all back again?
The zipper broke on one of my pants while I was washing though, so I had to dig through my clothes trunk, which is really just a collection of torn/non-wearable clothes since the move, and pulled out an old pair – torn on the leg, hole in one pocket (Remember Jeremy – money in the right pocket!), and, though I don’t feel like I’ve lost a any weight here, they’re a bit too big for me. Lacking a belt, I’m now using some string from my house to hold them up. Classy, I know.
Grilled cheese lunch. Trying to use up the Velvetta since no refrigerator.
Worked on memorizing stanzas 5/6 of ‘The Raven’ and then napped. Ok maybe I was a little tired from the bike ride since I slept (or half-slept) for two hours.
At one point, I woke up drenched in sweat, so went and showered, and then laid down again soaked, water is much better then sweat.
Slowly roused myself later. Shower again, since was once again sweating, then played harmonica for a while before writing up a script for my radio show tomorrow. Megan’s coming up from Malanville and we’re going to talk about malaria and meningitis.
Made macaroni and cheese and peanut butter (need a protein source) for dinner. Read some of Le Petit Prince, my new book, played with the kittens and am now ready for bed.

Kitten News-
Still no names, but I’m starting to see each one’s personality. I have two outgoing ones who aren’t really afraid of me anymore, and one scaredy-cat who hides under the bookshelf whenever I pass. The two are making their first playful foray into the garden tonight, Musu and myself both on alert for that damn tomcat who seems to be on the prowl around here, all too possibly for kittens.

No power since I’ve been back. Long time, even by Gaya standards.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Sunday

4/26/09

In Sia, 45k North of Gaya, visiting David with Mary Abrahams (our Country Director) and Lynn Foden (our Africa Regional Director).
Sleeping on a haussa bed – think millet stocks buddle together – with no mattress or sheets and then going to bike back to Gaya in the morning, some true good-ol’ Peace Corps living.
Day started out pretty normal. Sunday – tried to sleep in, thought I slept in, but when, after what I imagined an hour of laying there, I got up to find that it was only 7AM. Normal morning routine and then off to market to find ginger, mangos and limes; I’m brewing up a batch of mango wine which I hope to have ready by Cinqo de Mayo.
After walking all over Gaya looking for decently priced mangos (one problem of whiteness is that everything is more expensive) and limes, I came back to my house to wait for Mary, who was on her way down to pick up Lynn from the Niger-Benin border.
She showed up about 11:00. After chit-chat for around half an hour, she got a call from Lynn saying she was on the Benin side of the crossing and so we went down to our side and the timing was great as she was just finishing up the paperwork when we got there.
From there, I took them to lunch, my new favorite restaurant, Maquis de Tropique. Couscous and chicken. Yum. And Mary paid! Double yum. And we had cokes! I felt spoiled.
Back to my house, showing off my kittens and then to inspection for a brief meeting with some counterparts.
After the meet and great and small talk with one of my inspectors and some other people, Mary and Lynn invited me to come up to Sia with them for the night. I would have to find my own way home, but that’s not too big of a deal, I just told them to strap my bike to the top of the car and I’d ride back in the morning. I’ve done it before, I can handle it.
We came up the road to Sia, stopped shortly to drop things off and then went out to visit two volunteers who live right near by, Ely and Emily. Emily was the first stop and her village was great. Beautiful place. They have a couple of big trees right in the middle of the village which have been hijacked by this parasitic tree which grows up around the existing tree’s trunk and slowly crawls upward taking over branches and sending down creepy hanging ‘roots’ or something as it progresses. Cool trees, they have a naturally haunted look and it’s weird to see two distinct sets of leaves and bark on the same ‘tree’. Unfortunately, her village also has a lot of malnutrition, nothing extreme, but it’s all the more sadder that it is normal. Too many distended bellies and faded hair.
Then we were off to Ely’s, where my good buddy Kim was before here time finished. The big surprise was that he got a goat so he can enjoy fresh goat’s milk each day. Good time watching him milk it. Then it started to RAIN. I love rain. After a short visit, it was back into the car and back to Sia for dinner.
Been fun hanging with the two directors for the day. It’s not just us volunteers who live in a small world and thus talk about each other, catch up on the gossip of people, events, and Peace Corps changes, but PC staff is pretty much the exact same, small and interlinked with many connections. They’re just privy to a lot more information than we are as volunteers.
Dinner of rice and beans and CHICKEN! Boy, chicken twice in the same day. Really, meat twice in the same day is a rare and amazing thing here, so I ate my full and now am sitting happy with a full stomach ready for bed. Sleep now.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Saturday

Saturday April 25, 2009-

Saturday! Would be more exciting if yesterday hadn’t been a holiday anyway. In fact, I was busier today than yesterday in many ways. Started by getting up around 6:30 again, soon after sunrise. It’s so easy to get up early here since the sun is always raising 7 or earlier and I sleep outside so the biological clock is more in tune to raising earlier, whereas in the states, especially in Washington, the sun raises later, as late as 9 it seems to me, and I sleep inside so can avoid the sun if I want to sleep in. Not possible here.
Woke up, did a quick work out and then was off to Rahman’s wedding. At 730, I went to the mosque near the bus station where they did the praying and then came back to his old house, which is just two doors down from mine, for the chatting and eating that accompanies a wedding. We were fed tapioca and a meat sauce with bread, was actually really good. Spent about an hour there chatting and eating, then since I had run through my usual conversations (hey you’re white and you hear zarma!, the heat, where can I get a visa?, your buddy just got married so he’ll be tired tomorrow –nudge nudge, wink wink, etc), I took my leave.
On the way out Rahman asked if they could use my electricity to power some speakers so they could have music. The house they were at is his OLD place and since he moved the power company had cut the power and so he brought over a long extension cord and we ran it from my house through the yard of the empty house next door and to his place. No problem, I told him it was his wedding gift.
So here’s how weddings work here: Once the man has found who he wants to marry, he approaches her family and they set a price, once paid the wedding can go ahead. It involves praying in the morning, then a day of leisure and food, and that night the man goes to the woman’s house to "take" her, and him and his buddies speed off on their motorcycles and in their cars to the new husband’s house where the new wife is installed and hangs there for a week and all her friends come see her in her new place and friends and family of both come to bring them gifts.
After leaving his place I came home (the whole 40 feet away) and played harmonica for a couple hours, forgot how much I used to like practicing an instrument, so was back reliving my hours of practice I used to do in high school. Wouldn’t say I’m getting good yet, but I’m starting to be more comfortable and quicker at figuring stuff out.
Then I read a little more from a book of Edgar Allan Poe poems I have. I’ve decided to try and memorize the entire "The Raven" poem. It’s long, but if I can do two stanzas a day, I can have the whole thing done in 9 days. Something to fill my time with, better than thinking too much. Quote the raven, Nevermore.
Napped again for the hotter part of the day, and about 3pm made my way out into the market. I’m having a tailor here make me a suit. It’s an experiment. He made me some nice dress pants, so now I’m giving him a chance to do the jacket too. We’ll see if it comes out nice or not. I was adamant I don’t want the ‘funk suits’ people wear here, real baggy jacket with short sleeves and a much too high cut. For good or for bad only gonna cost me about 30 bucks.
Then was off to hang at Illiasou’s shop for a couple of hours. He’s a good buddy of mine here, sells sodas, bags of water, yogurt, and a local millet drink (which is actually quite tasty once you get used to it, first time it’s a bit of a surprise).
-- Side note that here in Niger and elsewhere in west Africa, bags of water, juice, even yogurt are all over the place. They’re GREAT and so convenient, but unfortunately create a bunch of waste. I would love to see them in the states, especially since we could recycle the plastic. There’s not much better than a cold bag of yogurt in the morning. –
Illiasou’s shop has a TV, so half-watched Die Hard With a Vengeance dubbed in French, half-wrote/recited the first two stanzas of The Raven for two hours. Wrote a short poem about African kids, just a first draft but here ya go:

Bare footed, heedless of sharp rocks
Or thorns or other sole-full shocks,
They run and shout
And chase each other about
How many children can one country contain?

Whether in bright dresses
Or shirts and pants torn from the stresses
Of this daily life,
Dirty faces attest
To hot weather and strife.

Often cheerful, sometimes tearful
Always staring at "the white."
They’re often the part that softens my heart
In a country which as accustomed me to hard sights.

I’ve gotten more into writing, including poetry, as of late. Something I miss from the days when I was in school and that I have sadly let fall to the side since, much like playing and practicing an instrument. It’s too easy to NOT do something, even something that brings you joy. Why do we do that to ourselves? Why do we stop doing the things that bring us the best joys?
One joyful experience I was all too happy to enjoy today was the new toy a friend of mine across the street received from Nigeria today.
I was headed back home from Illiasou’s place and saw a group gathered around a table or something just around the corner from my house. Interested, as it seemed everyone else was, I wandered over to see what it was. It was a pool table!!!! Irikoy beri!!!! I was so excited. Who cares if it’s missing a ball, or that it’s a small table with small sized balls? It’s mostly flat and has a cue!
There was quite a sizeable crowd gathered around to watch the two guys playing. I saddled up next to my friend and inquired about the table and he said it was his and that it had just been unloaded from his friend’s truck direct from Nigeria. He asked if I knew how to play, did they have snooker in the states? (It’s not a snooker table, I don’t think, just a small pool table, but then again I don’t really know much about snooker). I told him I’d played a little before and so I was up for the next game.
They played 8 ball like in the states, but scratches mean the next player gets two shots instead of one, even for table scratches. No problem, just note to self - don’t scratch. I came out well, went up one ball to six right away, but then ran into that age-old problem of all his balls blocking the shots I have on mine. So after a while he finally made a run and it was three to one and then… I missed an easy shot and he ran the rest. Sad end to a game that started with some good shots, a cut and a bank that had the crowd laughing about Anasaras and how they know games. The guy went off laughing, telling me to meet him same time tomorrow.
Luckily no one else wanted to play so I got in a second game against the guy who had brought the table to town. Won it and regained the honor of white people everyone at being good at bar games J Had to snap a couple pictures as I walked away. Amazing! A pool table in Gaya. I would never have imagined.
So back at my house now, waiting for the rice to cook for my dinner, should be good by now actually, so I’ll sign off for today. Three days gone and three actual posts. I might make this after all.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Friday

Friday April 24, 2009-
Was watching the Cowboy Bebop movie on my laptop last night after dinner, when suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my concession door. "’Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping on my chamber door – only this and nothing more." (Was reading Poe this afternoon… and I should try to get Mary to let me post her re-imagined Raven sometime)
Turns out it was just another PCV, Dillon, who I had forgotten was coming down from Sia to stay with me for the night. He came in so late because the thunder and lightening I had been watching actually came down as a heavy rainstorm there and kept his bush taxi from leaving. And then of course there was the obligatory ‘oops, we ran out of gas’ moment, so then it took even longer.
This morning he took the early bus to Niamey. For my part, I took my freshly oiled bike out for a ride to the border and back, about 20km. It was nice to get in a good ride, being in Niamey destroys my bike riding time. I definitely think that returning to the states, I’ll be in the bike lines.
Stopped by the market on the way back to pick up some supplies – mangos, rice, pasta, bread and matches. Then came back home to water the garden, work out, eat breakfast and wash some clothes. Since today was a holiday I had no place to go and so I lazed around. I finished reading "Things Fall Apart" and played harmonica for an hour or so. Then it was lunch, made some Nigerien inspired spicy rice stuff.
Today was Friday, of course, so it was prayer day, meaning that by 1pm there was a crowd in front of my place, packing the alley way between my house and the mosque. As it always does, that means that I can’t leave until the prayer is over. So, like usual on Fridays, I just hunkered down, ate a big lunch and took a nap.
After napping, I played with the kittens, played the harmonica, then went for another stroll through the market. I bought fried fish to give to the cats and tofu for myself. Walked around a bit greeting some friends and ended up at my buddy Innocent’s place, not far from my house. Innocent is from Nigeria and so speaks english well and it's always nice to slip back into native tongue.... Sat there for a while chatting, talked about many a thing, including relationships, the heat, and lots of football (soccer for you americas) Allez Barcalona, revenge Liverpool!!!

Made a list of things I saw while sitting on his stoop:
-Street side motorcycle maintenance
-Cigarette vendor with his wares stacked high on his head
-Girls passing in brightly colored fabric
-Men passing still sporting their Friday prayer best
-Cow carts loaded down with mud bricks and small boys at work
-Children running around, chasing each other and laughing
-Negotiations
-A man sweeping up garbage from the street
-The tailor across the way at work in a shop with an eclectic array of wares – fans, generators, cloth, thread, linoleum flooring, and TV stands
-A young man who had to run to jump up on the back of a truck that didn’t wait for him as it was leaving market, his buddy extending an arm, action movie-style to help pull him up
-A herd of goats passing by, poking about for food among the trash
-A man pushing a cart full of 10 gallon water jugs for sale
-A coffee/tea vendor with his carry stand full of drinks and bread, and his big hot water pot and attached charcoal heater
-A motorcycle taxi passing with a kid in front of the driver and a woman with a big basket of market produce on her head behind
-A traditional medicine vendor with his cart full of old plastic water bottles full of roots, leaves, and other assorted remedies
-A mute motorcycle taxi driver trying to negotiate a fare with grunts and gestures

None of that is anything out of the ordinary, except the mute driver, had never seen him before…

After hanging there for an hour or so, it was back to my house to make dinner, which was another heart-attack sandwich, this time with grilled onions, tofu, and some more velvetta cheese. Yum.
Heard an interesting radio show on music schools in Venezuela on the BBC, how they can act as agents of social change while encouraging musical accomplishment. So now, power out, typing up day two of the week and watching How I Met Your Mother, that stupid cute show with Doogie Houser.

Well then, I have a wedding to attend in the morning and a shower to attend to this evening. Until tomorrow, Incha Allah.