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

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

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.

Last week This week

Finished writing my last entry in the journal I brought to country (Thanks Chass; GREAT gift!). I was never the most frequent writing, typically writing once every other week, with spurts here and there of actual chronicling of my Peace Corps life; mostly thoughts, and major events. So, wanting to write a bit today, I’ve turned to journal writing on my laptop and thought it would be interesting to try to write about my day to day life and events for a week, EVERYDAY, which I don’t think I’ve ever done before. So here’s to the effort! It'll be posted as a daily update a week later, so 23rd on the 30th, you get the picture. Here we go.....

Thursday, April 23, 2009 –
Woke up a little early this morning. Actually set my alarm, since 6:30 is near-enough to sunrise that I may have slept late. I sleep outside on my front porch, a small, maybe 12ft by 6ft, cement area under the eaves of my house. Shelter from the rain and the sun, this is where I spend the majority of my time at home.
Finally rouse myself from bed about 6:45 with a little help from Musu asking me to open the door so she could go in for breakfast. The kittens came out from under the bookshelf, where they’ve taken to since I spent two weeks in Niamey, to greet their mom and get their own breakfast. They’re still scared of me when I’m by myself and, if outside their bookshelf cave, will bolt back in if I get too close, but they’re totally fine with me if Musu’s there also. Haven’t yet named them, guess after I lost the first patch, I’ve sort of taken on the Nigerien mentality that you should wait a little while to know that a baby will live before giving it a name. So I’m tossing around ideas in my head, trying to figure out, first of all, which kitten is which and their personalities.
After playing with the kittens for a little while I went through my typical morning routine: Swept the porch of the dirt blowing in during the night, converted my bed into the "couch" (I sleep on a cot with a mattress on top and a mosquito net, so during the day I pull down the mosquito net, thrown a blanket over the whole thing, push it to the side of the porch and, presto, extra seating), then while listening to the BBC I did my little bit of stretch/workout, watered the garden and trees, did the night before’s diner dishes, made breakfast – oatmeal and a small mango – showered, read a little and went off to the inspection just after 8.
The inspector from the primary inspection asked me to come in to type something up for him. I’ve become the official typer for him when he has something. Others around there can do it, but if I’m around and nothing else to do I like the task, a good way to work on my French. Today it was a letter from the school director in Albakazé about girls’ education in Niger, why it’s important, what’s hurting it, etc. The inspector had it typed, to make copies to give out to each teacher in the region. Nothing new in the letter, but really, in order to get the changes needed, it is necessary to constantly reinforce the message, so bravo Mr. L’Inspector.
After having typed up the letter, dictated to me by one of the other inspection employees (not an easy task to listen to French and type it out, but good practice), I went off to the other inspection to inform them of the coming visit of my Country Director and the Africa Regional Director for Peace Corps. This Sunday, our Country Director, Mary, is coming down to pick up the Regional Director at the Benin/Niger border and then see and visit some volunteers on the way back to Niamey. So Mary asked me to organize a small meeting for them to meet some of my Nigerien counterparts. Also wanted to ask the inspector about a way to get CEG 1 to do a better job of stamping and storing the English textbooks they just received. I went by a couple weeks ago and they were just piled in the shelves, not even being used yet, with a single "property of" stamp on the cover page. This in comparison to the CEG II director who stamped the front, back, side, and multiple pages to prevent theft and has them numbered and organized in boxes for use in class. Again, the two sides of development and Niger.
Chatted with everyone for a while about the heat, politics, etc. Then, since the inspector is off to Niamey to have medical stuff checked out by a doctor friend of his, wished him safe journey and by 12:20 was back at home to make lunch and hunker down away from the heat. Luckily for me there was power so got to use the fan! Did laundry and hung it up to dry and then made lunch, a heart-attack sandwich of melted Velvita Cheese from mom’s last care package (which was great by the way- Thanks!). Yesterday, I even had some pre-cooked bacon I was able to put on it, tasted like a bacon-cheese burger (thanks Kim! Bacon was what I chose from the Ely/Gaya package). Amazing.
After lunch, I watched a couple of episodes of Cowboy Bebop on my laptop, played with the kittens, who are still scared of me in absence of Musu, then napped from two till about four PM. Roused myself, trying to figure out how to spend the afternoon. Thought about going to greet the librarian at the MJC and see how the books I gave them are. Instead, figured I’d do another load of laundry (sheets and two towels) and work on my bike, which was in poor shape after a couple of months of neglect and hot, sandy, windy weather. Gave the bike a bath and watched as the sky, which had been a bit cloudy on my awaking, gathered layers of clouds from white to gray to dark gray. Then I gave the gears a good oiling, the brakes a little fine tuning, mostly doing more harm than good as always, to the point that if I just have it running in the end, I’m pleased with myself.
Started the split pea soup for dinner while working on the bike, so after mechanic, manly time, went to fix the onions, garlic, curry for the soup, then sat out and read from "Things Fall Apart" and watched as the sky turned darker and darker and even heard a couple clashes of thunder and saw some lightening.
I don’t want to say that rainy season is here already, hot season has just now hit it’s peak and that lasted for over a month last year, almost two. So to say that now, two weeks into the full fury of hot season would be over-optimistic, but it has rained already once this week, briefly last Monday, and has been cloudy and thundery both in the evening after the rain on Monday and in the evening today. No good solid rain however.
Power went out around six thirty or so, so had to spend the rest of my cooking time with my headlamp on my sweaty head. Now it’s about 8 o’clock, soups almost done, power just came back on, conveniently just in time for the prayer call, and the thunder has faded, but the sky continues to be covered and with the moon blocked out and no power, it was pretty dark around here. One big difference between my post and a bush post is that here the utter darkness of a bush night with no moon is lost unless there is a power outage (which happen multiple times daily, but usually it comes back in just a few hours).
Not a super exciting day all around, but was nice to get my bike into shape and have split pea soup and CRACKERS (thanks James for leaving them behind! – Side note, James gets a package a week, sometimes two, so my house is usually overflowing with food from them, and I often get little goodies. At his post he has an entire trunk full of care package food. Irikoy Beri! – God is Big!)
Tomorrow is a Nigerien holiday – Concord day – so no work at the inspections or the MJC, was thinking of doing a morning bike ride, then going to market… well, we’ll see, hopefully I can actually fulfill this commitment to write daily for a week.

When Everything Seems to Mean Something

Ever been through one of those points in your life where every song lyric is brilliantly poignant to your own situation? “How did he know? That’s exactly how I feel, what I’m going through.” Every movie’s hidden messages of redemption, loss, love, brushing your teeth in the morning, is speaking out to you. Where life revolves around your problems, or at least since they're constantly in your head, while not even thinking directly about them, they pop up in the strangest ways, when you least want them. But then, when the problems fade and the world changes and starts to look brighter, even that seems to be reflected in the world at large.

It’s been a couple of weeks like that for me. I couldn't count the number of song lyrics I’ve written down in my journal and scraps of paper lately.

“Maybe there is a God above,
But all I’ve leaned of love
Was how to shoot someone that outdrew me

And it’s not a cry that you hear in the night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah”
- Jeff Buckley

“Breaking and rebuilding and we’re growing,
Always guessing, never knowing.
It’s shocking, but we’re nothing,
We’re just moments
We’re clever but we’re clueless
We’re just human, amusing and confusing
Trying, but where is this all leading?
We’ll never know.”
- Jack Johnson

“I will carry on, bury all, bury all, bury all.”
“… the notion that I don’t need anyone but me,
Don’t drink the water!”
- Dave Matthews

“You’ve made me smile again,
In fact I may be sore from it,
It’s been a while.”
- Ben Folds

“If revolution had a movie, I’d be theme music.”
- Common
(Ok, this one, I just love the line, but not necessarily as it applies to me. Common is great. Saw this interview with him in Elle just yesterday, not sure he’s all the message MC he used to be, but still got respect.)

I could go on, but where would we end up? I’d just be the Pandora radio of music quotes, and not even the best I’m sure.

Been here in Niamey for just over two weeks now. I hadn’t really wanted to stay here so long, but I think it’s a good thing I am here. I needed to see some American friends to unload on. My Nigerien and Nigerian (From Niger and Nigeria respectively) just see relationships in a totally different light than we do in the US. Here, especially in Niger, relationships between a man and a women usually jumped straight from “hey there” to marriage since ‘dating’ isn’t really an approved of thing, at least outside of the cities. If you like a girl and want her as a wife, you go talk to her parents and settle on a price and then, if you all agree, she’s to be your wife.
Thus, it’s not really that marriage is about love, more so about convenience and first impressions… and money of course. In Nigeria, they like to think that love has more to do with it, for sure ‘dating’ and relationships are a little more western, or maybe it’s a little more Christian juxtaposed to the Islam. Whatever it is, people are more likely to have it casual there for a while, but even that… well it’s a West African thing that women are for having a kids, cooking and cleaning. Of course, you want a woman that you like and who is good at pleasing you, but really as it boils down to the essentials, love is the first thing boiled off. There is love here, no doubt, but it’s not integrally tied up in the institution of marriage as we see it. Though, even in the US we romanticize love and marriage to the point where we forget that they are separate entities.

But I digress….

I wanted to say that I had to escape the African view of women and relationships for a while. Most all my African friends kept saying, “She’s with someone else, that’s why she broke up with you,” “Leave her, she’s no good if she can’t please her man.” Really though, there were two guys (Nigerians) who fielded very open minded opinions about her need for space and love finding a way and things going as they should in the long run. I was quite impressed, yet another example of how Africa is at a cross-roads of ideas and customs. The globalization of media has really meant a huge impact on the way people in the developing world see the world since it’s mostly western ideas on TV and the radio. At least here in West Africa. There’s local media, there’s Nollywood – the film industry in Nigeria – But even that takes large cues from the stories of Hollywood and the west, Bollywood too is a huge influence, so you get most movies being about love overcoming obstacles or good triumphing over evil, movies spouting their ideals, but real life still, for the most part, clinging to the traditional views.
It’s nice to see when the two, media and traditional viewpoints, coincide rather than combat. For example, I’m reading Things Fall Apart right now. A contemporary book, but written very much like an Africa fable is told. Not so far into it yet, but really interested.

Have I lost you yet?

Problem with writing on the fly without somewhere to go.
But if you’re game, let’s press on.

Was talking to my friend Mary the other day about a very similar subject: the diversity of influence on American culture. We were saying how the greatest thing about American culture is it’s vastness and depth, it’s innumerable foreign and domestic influences, all meeting and melding into the greatest cultural stream that the world has seen. Black, White, Chicano, Indian, Native American, Irish, German, Protestant Catholic, Conservative, Liberal… Like I said, one could make an infinitely long list of adjectives to describe the actors of social influence within American society. – or I could just say, People of all colors and creeds have had input and influence on what is now “American Culture.” This is an amazing thing.
It’s also an amazing thing to see a different culture and a different world view. Living in Africa the last (almost) two years has really opened my eyes to the way culture is different in different areas, but really not all that different in the end. All cultures hold many of the same values, respect, family, hard work, as important and so have commonalities. This new age of global media and information though is having a similar effect on other countries that the US’s history of immigration had on it. Cultures are starting to mix more and more, blending in places where it would never have ten years ago even. My buddy, Illiasou, the other day in Gaya showed me, on his cell phone, the Google search he had just done to learn about the Obama’s, he was especially interested in their new dog. And really, Obama has become, I think the first president to REALLY, TRULY, be an international figure. Everyone knows about him and, while that obviously has something to do with his personality and charisma, I think it has just as much to do with the globalization of culture, being that the US is still (for now) the cultural power house of the world, people hear about US the most.

Culture – A society’s set of norms, traditions, and values.

But also influence and information I think.

The world is changing, it’s always been changing of course, but it seems to be going faster and faster, spinning with increased anxiousness. Instant communication between any two points. A straight line is no longer the shortest distance between two points. This ease and quickness of cultural exchange can’t help but increase the rate at which the world changes. For now it continues to be a top down influence of media dispersing dominant culture around the world, but even that is changing. TV like Al-Jazira (actually a very good news station if you give it a chance) or radio like BBC Haoussa are giving voices to people not usually associated with the mainstream. Internet will do this even more and even faster as it starts to become more globally available.

In my point of view this is all a good thing. Just like the immigration history of the US has produced a culture that has so many and varied influences, the chance to have cultures around the world broadcast themselves can only but help diversify the world. A person in the US can now read a Peace Corps blog from Malawi and understand more of the culture there. They could also read a blog written by a Malawian and understand even better that culture. And it’s all at their fingertips. The globalization of information gives the smaller voices a chance to be heard along side the bigger voices. Bigger voices still have the power of top-down information decimation, especially where people are reliant on radio/TV as apposed to the internet, but as information and culture exchange shifts more with the technology available, we’re gonna see greater and greater power for the small voices and that will help diversify culture and maintain culture in areas where big voices are in danger of imposing their weight and changing it.

Well, anyway... that's enough rambling, maybe I should organize my thoughts more next time.

Last weekend was my 26th Birthday and to celebrate I went out with some friends, had a steak dinner. Good times.

People have been requesting some videos of life here, speaking of cultural exchange over new media, so here are a couple I just uploaded to facebook (so painfully slow):

The present Is too much for the senses, Too crowding, too confusing - Too present to imagine.

Was introduced to the wonder that is Robert Frost. I mean, who hasn't heard of Frost before, but for most people, as it had been for me, it's "The Path Less Chosen." Last night I got to read through a large collection of his poems thanks to Mary's enormous, well thumbed-through book. Some notable poems I ran across are below, they range from large and life-pondering to 'hey, that's what it is like when it rains here also!' Enjoy.

I WILL SING YOU ONE-O

It was long I lay
Awake that night
Wishing the tower
Would name the hour
And tell me whether
To call it day
(Though not yet light)
And give up sleep.
The snow fell deep
With the hiss of spray;
Two winds would meet,
One down one street,
One down another,
And fight in a smother
Of dust and feather,
I could not say,
but feared the cold
Had checked the pace
Of the tower clock
By tying together
Its hands of gold
Before its face.

The came one knock!
A note unruffled
Of earthly weather,
Though strange and muffled.
The tower said, "One!"
And then a steeple.
They spole to themselves
And such few people
As winds might rouse
From sleeping warm
(But not unhouse).
They left the storm
The struck en masse
Like a beaded fur.

In that grave One
They spoke of the sun
And moon and stars,
Saturn and Mars
And Jupiter.
Still unfettered,
They left the named
And spoke of the lettered,
The sigmas and taus
Of constellations.
They filled their throats
With the furthest bodies
To which man sends his
Speculation,
Beyond which God is;
The cosmic motes
Of yawning lenses.
Their solemn peals
Were not their own:
They spoke for the clock
With whose vast wheels
Theirs interlock.
In that grave word
Uttered alone
The utmost star
Trembled and stirred,
Though set so far
Its whirlnig frenzies
Appear like standing
In one self station.
It has not ranged,
And save for the wonder
Of once expanding
To be a nova.
It has not changed
To the eye of man
On planets over,
Around, and under
It in creation
Since man began
To drag down man
And nation nation.

DEVOTION

The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean-
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

CARPE DIEM

Age saw two quiet children
Go loving by at twilight,
He knew not whether homeward,
Or outward from the village,
Or (chimes were ringing) churchward.
He waited (they were strangers)
Till they were out of hearing
To bid them both be happy,
"Be happy, happy, happy
And seize the day of pleasure."
The age-long theme is Age's.
'Twas Age imposed on poems
Their gather-roses burden
To warn against the danger
That overtaken lovers
From being overflooded
With happiness should have it
And yet not know they have it.
But bid life seize the present?
It lives less in the present
Than in the future always,
And less in both together
Than in the past. The present
Is too much for the senses,
Too crowding, too confusing -
Too present to imagine.

SAND DUNES

Sea waves are green and wet,
But up from where they die
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.

They are the sea made land
To come at the fisher town
And bury in solid sand
The men she could not drown.

She may know cove and cape,
But she does not know mankind
If by any change of shape
She hopes to cut off mind.

Men left her a ship to sink:
They can leave her a hut as well;
And be but more free to think
For the one more cast-off shell

THE FLOOD

Blod has been harder to dam back than water.
Just when we think we have it impounded safe
Behind new barrier walls (and let it chafe!),
It breaks away in some new kind of slaughter.
We choose to say it is let loose by the devil;
But power of blood itself releases blood.
It goes by might of being such a flood
Held high at so unnatural a level.
It will have outlet, brave and not so brave.
Weapons of war and implements of peace
Are but the points at which it finds release.
And now it is once more the tidal wave
That when it has swept by, leaves summits stained.
Oh, blood will out. It cannot be contained.

IN TIME OF CLOUDBURST

Let the downpour roil and toil!
The worst it can do to me
Is carry some garden soil
A little nearer the sea.

'Tis the world-old way of rain
When it comes to a mountain farm
To exact for a present gain
A little of future harm.

And the harm is none too sure,
For when all that was rotted rich
Shall be in the end scoured poor,
When my garden has gone down ditch,

Some force has but to apply,
And summits shall be immersed,
The bottom of seas raised dry-
The slope of the earth reversed.

Then all I need do is run
To the other end of the slope,
And on tracts laid new to the sun,
Begin all over to hope.

Some worn old tool of my own
Will be turned up by the plow,
The wood of it changed to stone,
But as ready to wield as now.

May my application so close
To so endless repetition
Not make me tired and morose
And resentful of man's condition.

Life or something like it

It's hot season once again. Fun. I'm also single once again. Fun. Which is worse? Well, I'm gonna have to say that's a toss up, at least breaking up doesn't give me heat rash. Just heartburn... :)

Anyway, it's not that big of a thing. She needs space to think things over and what better time to get space than when we're already thousands of miles apart? If it's meant to be and a strong enough love is there then things will be fine in the end. Sometimes you have to let the things you love go and see if they will come back. Can't say as I blame her for it, we've not had the easiest relationship and should it work in the end, this will just be another brick building up our foundation.

But hot season.... now, THAT ain't never gonna change. Glad I can pick up and run from it eventually. Been about 110 everyday for a couple of weeks now. Sweating all day long, trouble sleeping at night for soaked sheets. To be honest, the worst is yet to come temperature wise, it's just the humidity in Gaya these days that's killing me, as the temperatures rise that will die down a bit, until the rains come that is, and then.... well each season is special in it's own way let's say.

But really, regardless of everything that seems to be going bad for me right now (and it's been a hard couple of weeks for sure), god, as they say, works in mysterious ways, and I am in a certain sense glad to still be in Niger. It's sure that the projects I would have been close to 'finishing' would have been a last minute PAIN, since even till now I don't have all the community contribution required for the books. Asking for Nigeriens to give money is like pulling crocodile teeth.



I have a chance to now do some more traveling around the country, visiting other volunteers and seeing their villages. In fact, I'm off to my good buddy Josh's village on Sunday for a week-long visit. Tomorrow I'm visiting Mary and cheering on kids in a soccer tournament she organized for her commune. After Easter, it's back to Gaya for a couple weeks, then I hope to travel East for most of the month of May, seeing places where I don't speak the language (hausa), maybe will learn some while out there. Then in June I have a conference in Niamey on closing up our service. After that, well we'll be playing that one by ear, or heart, to see what happens next.

I forgot to bring my long hoped to be publish rant on African development to Niamey with me, so that will have to wait for another day, but I would like to relate a little bit about what I've been up to in this, maybe futile, attempt to help Niger develop.

STUDENT GOVERNMENT-

It's been a smashing success. People have loved it. We had radio coverage of the elections and other school directors have been asking when we can get them tried so they can start governments in their own schools.

And best of all, I didn't even really do that much. I put a lot of effort into the conference in Niamey last year, and had a couple of people from Gaya trained on impletementing student governments. MY counterpart Seidou has been amazing and after a brief hiatus for christmas travels, I came back and within two weeks we had a conference with the directors, teachers, and students' parents from two of our local primary schools. After the two day (two morning) training, the directors took it all on themselvs to organize the elections, even seeking out funding for materials from one of our local NGOs that works on human rights, especially those of women and children, so it fit great with their goals as well.

It has seriously been the highlight of my service to see these schools and my community pull together to accomplish something like that without relying on me or some big international NGO. That's very encouraging and the type of thing that PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) should be focusing on, but it's all too easy to get caught up in 'hey my village needs this, let's find money!' I mean so many things DO require money and we know how to find it better than many Nigeriens, it's just well, money corrupts. But that's my whole thesis, so I'll develop it more later and instead talk about....

I have a giving the pictures here captions to help tell the story of the elections, you may find it interesting.




THE BOOKS

Still waiting on, yep that's right, the devil - MONEY. The community contriubtion side for this project runs like this: 25% has to be provided by the community. And so for this project, the remaining books (after the initial two schools took their earned shares) were divided into 44 book lots, one available to each of the 16 CEGs in the Gaya commune for a total contribution in their price of 40,000CFA, about $80. I figured that's a small price to pay for such a benefit (and it is), but getting people here to value education, especially ENGLISH education to the point of putting up money has been a challenge. Some communities jumped at the chance and had the money to me in a couple days, others just had the 'if god wants it, he'll drop the money from heaven into our director's hands, cause we sure as ain't paying that' attitude. Sad, but true. Some people just don't put any value on education, it's not perceived as having much value when, most likely, you'll end up planting and cutting millet, even merchants who need to read and write, do math, only need a primary level education. What good is English then?

Well, let's see, how about doing business in an English speaking country. Nigeria, Ghana, ever heard of them, they're the two biggest west african economies, you think maybe you would want to have the ability to do business there. How about, going to high school or university? Both REQUIRE you to pass the english part on entrance exams. Well, whatever, doesn't ring a bell for some people.

FRUSTRATION

It's the name of the game as of late. Maybe it's my personal troubles, the heat, or something I ate, but sometimes I just want to burn this whole damn country to the ground. There are so many just uneducated and clueless people. And the food... :(

But then invariably I will have a conversation with someone in zarma and see that light in their eyes go on when I describe something NEW and DIFFERENT to them, and I know that a new connection was just made. Or I see a cute kid, like the beggar kids who hang outside my house. The greet me home like puppies, running up, yelping "ca va", not always welcome, but seeing this one girl smile everytime I see her breaks my heart; to know that there's nothing I can do to change where she is and how, in many ways her life is already laid out for her. It's a smile of such innocence and beauty, how can it exist on a girl who has to beg for food? (though they get fed pretty well since setting up shop outside my house and just across the street from the mosque, helps also to have the good shade from the trees there)



There's always something, even in my most 'I hate Niger' moods to put a smile on my face, unfortunately it's also true that the constant 'Nigerienness' of some people do nothing but wear me down. I refer to the DAILY and REPEATED episodes such as (translated from zarma of course):

Kid: "Hey white man, white man, hey look over here!!! White man!!!!!!"


Man: "Hey, how's the wife?"
Me: "I have no wife, I'm too young"
Man: "Well, I'll bring you a wife. A nice young girl, you know *wink*. She'll help you with all your 'work' *wink* Come on you need a nigerien girl to marry. I'll go get one right now."
Me: "no, really that's fine. Ha ha ha *laughing so he'll stop, joke's done*
Man: "How about I bring her by tonight?"
Me: "Thanks, but that's fine, I have a girl back home, I can only have one"
Man: "Oh, you can have one there AND one here. She'll never know..."
AND so on and so forth....


Me: "How much for the shirt?"
Merchant: "5000CFA" - that's like 20 times the price it should be
Me: "Really, you know I live here, what's the real price."
Man: "That is the price. Ok, how about 2500, you're white you can pay that."
Me: "Nope, goodbye."
I make a point of NEVER buying from these types, just the ones who offer a resonable first price


Director of CEG I, the bad side of Niger: "We need more tables, find us some tables, we need your help."
Me: Thinking 'Yeah and I bet you already got money to fix the ones you have, but spent it on beer and prostitutes', though saying "Yeah, I would if I could, but like I tell you EVER time, I don't have money."
Director: "But you know people who do right....?"

*SIGH*


So Niger is wearing on me, but like I said, there's always a bright spot if you keep your eyes open, mostly the smile of a child or the kindness of a complete stranger on a bus, the things that I love about Niger. Just like in life everywhere else, joy is often hidden in the silver linings of a cloudy situation. Kala Suru.

Enough for now, I don't want to be so negative in my writings, but you go where the flow takes you sometimes.

I'm happy (and incredibly sad) to be here still, and we take life one day at a time, and try to do good things for those we can, and really THAT is a very nigerien sentiment and one we should all be able to take to heart.


Check out my new pictures of Gaya, student government elections on Picasa. Until the next time.

P.S. WILLIAM COBOS - For God's sake leave me your email address next time so I can get back to you! What good is it to start a blog so we can communicate if I can't even write on it or send you an email!!! But I like the name you gave it.