Here is a great run down of the Coup d’etat in Niger. Everyone is hoping for the best. I talked to my school teacher Sidiq. He is going back to school for a degree in sociology and is living in Niamey. He heard the gun shots but luckily no one he knew was hurt. They were all pretty scared for a while, but things settled down quickly. Ir’koy m’in halessi!
I watched an excellent movie tonight. If you get a chance please at least check it out and watch the trailer.
Everything about this movie seemed familiar to me. The landscape was very similar, the buildings made from traditional materials. The schools looked just like the ones in Niger. Even seeing soldiers with their rifles slung lazily over their shoulder’s reminded me of my time in Attaforme. I am so happy that Niger hasn’t descended into the chaos of war yet, but it has been teetering for so long and it is only getting worse there. I would hate to think of my school children, my teachers and all my friends having to go through that kind of hell.
The movie was both uplifting and very sad. It ended on a great note and I hope that life can only get better for people around the world. If you want to complain about the problems you have, then you really need a reality check. I am sorry, but your life is much better than these people, and you know what? They are surviving. They are sucking it up and powering through the pain and misery, and most of the time they are laughing and dancing.
It is times like this that I miss my time there. I miss the good people and the attitude that kept your smiling through the tough times. It is times like this that I forget all the hard times, the frustrations, and just remember that people are good people. They are trying to survive and they are doing the best they can with what they have.
I am so grateful for the chance I had to work with such people. I am afraid that I took a lot more from Africa and Niger than I gave. Hopefully one of these days I can give it all back.
My activity never seems to stop as this week I turn from dirty bush volunteer to upscale fasion model. Kadi, a local clothing designer who was schooled in the U.S. put on a show of very bright and hippy-esque clothing that I was able to model to hundreds of people at the Grande Hotel. I had three seperate outfits, and all of them fit me extremely well. As many of you know I am not one to where fasion designed clothing, or even clothing that fits right. I generally prefer loose fitting, comfortable clothing that allows breathability and easy maintanance. Instead I doned low cut purple pants that flared out, and made my behind look better than I have ever seen. I try not to be to vain of a person, but I looked good last night, in all of her clothes, and I knew it. I also have a beard and the long hair that made me fit the character of the show perfectly. I have never had so many compliments on the way I looked or even how I acted while walking.
Needless to say it was a lot of fun, a huge ego boost (not that I need one) and a fun distraction from bush life. It felt good to be on stage again, playing a role that is not me and nailing it to a T. I miss theatre more than I thought, and last night proved it. I am ready to audition for a show or anything else that might cross my path.
After modeling we all went out dancing at one of the clubs in Niamey. I have never gone to a club in country, and I haven’t been ‘clubbing’ since 2004, so it was an intersting event. I danced for three hours with little break and was happy to see that I am not completely out of shape. Clubs are not my scene. They are far to load, far to fake and far to expensive for my taste. Last night was fun though, the club was free as was the water, the music wasn’t too bad and I really had fun dancing. I still prefer my folk music and a quiet cafe, but I could be convinced to go out and dance the night away at least one more time before I leave country.
After a week of traveling I figured another week wouldn’t kill me, so I returned to Gotheye, my market town, but instead of hoofing it the four miles back to my house, I waited for a car to come pick me up to start the wonders of Guinea Worm week. Guinea Worm is a nasty little parasite that you get from open water sources like lakes and puddles. It gestates in your body for nine to twelve months, growing up to a meter in length, and then it bores a hole through your skin and seemingly attempts to escape your body. As it leaves your body it waits for you to enter a body of water, where it spews forth its eggs, thus infecting everyone else using that water source. It’s a cruel little thing and can cause all sorts of infection and badness.
The good news is that it is almost gone in Niger. There were over a hundred cases last year and each year it is diminishing. The parasite that causes Guinea Worm can be easily blocked by a small, easily used filter that is inexpensive and has been handed out to villagers all through Niger. The area we went to, Dargol, is about forty kilometers west of Gotheye and had roughly one hundred cases last year. Our job was to go to villages in the deep bush who still rely on pond water for drinking and bathing; to replace their filters and instruct them in there proper use.
We arrived in the village I was posted to on Thursday night. Jackie, who is a consultant for the Carter Center and who organized the event, Mihoko, the Japanese volunteer who specializes in GW, a driver, me and Soumana the animatuer. Jackie and Mihoko left the next day, but not before we walked around all morning, promptly getting sun burnt and exhausted. We rested the rest of the day and they took off. Then it was just me and Soumana.
The village we stayed in was small with a lot of different hamlets surrounding it. It was deep in the bush, and the people were not used to Peace Corps Volunteers. It was fun showing off my Zarma, and nice to be around someplace completely new. The terrain was much different as well, with mesas and rock formations all over. I am used to being on the river where places are flat and somewhat wet. This was hilly and dryer than I car for it. May I never live in the south west of America; because I don’t think I could take it at all.
In the afternoon of the second day Soumana received a phone call. His wife had given birth, but the child had not survived. That little bit of info colored the rest of the trip into something strange. I started writing two songs, but they are not finished yet, and I started writing again. It had been a while since I had written anything. It was sad, but there was little we could do, so we kept working.
We ended up changing a lot of filters and showing several people how to use them correctly, which was rewarding and happy. On the other hand I saw the most emaciated dog I have ever seen, begging for food and being hit with sticks to go away. I also saw a baby goat whose back legs were broken, hobbling along trying to survive while its kin played around him. Possibly the saddest thing I saw was men and women drinking mud water from a whole because people at the water pump wouldn’t give them water.
So while we did a lot of good work, there was a lot of sadness and reminders that life in Africa is harsh for everyone, but continues to go on anyway. On Monday the car returned to pick us up and then I came in to Niamey. I am still in a strange place, not sad but just here.
After a lovely couple of weeks basking in the glory of my post I reluctantly returned to the land of Niamey, but instead of wasting money on fruit and other goodies I continued on into the mysterious east side of the country to visit a friend who was getting married. After a long sixteen hour bus ride I arrived in Zinder, the former capital of Niger, weary and needing rest. I promptly made my bed and passed out only to awaken at dawn to catch a bush taxi to go to my friend John’s, the one getting married, market the day before the wedding. We arrived at the ’station’ and I got to see the wonderful bush taxi’s that Zinder has to provide. Imagine a 1950’s truck that has to be crank started, covered in dents and possibly blood, and enough people loaded on top of, inside of and hanging on to, to scare even me; and you have a poor description of one scary car. We were lucky to have a ‘comfortable’ spot located on the top of the cab, not inside mind you, but on top of. We did have the added luxury of sitting on top of our bags, and the bonus of being able to hold onto the straps that were keeping our luggage from falling off. So with that kind of start we got going into the bush of Housa land. There are a lot more hills and in some places more trees than in Zarma land, but for the most part it is mostly the same. After a tenuous trip, of bumps and thorny trees waging battle against us, we arrived at market. Market was fairly similar to what I am used to, with a few added goodies to make it worth while. We spent the day sleeping, meandering about, and finally ended the day by walking five kilometers to John’s village through fairly deep sand. When I walk in and around my village it is mostly hard pan, so walking through sand is a bit of a difficulty if you’re not used to it. After our arrival we cleaned up as best as we could and then I passed out once again. The morning started the festivities, and the first thing that happened was the slaughter of a ram. I am fairly used to animals being slaughtered, but this one was a bit different. After slitting its throat and letting it bleed for a bit, the guy cut open a hole in its leg, stuffed a stick into it, fished around, and then proceeded to blow the animal up like a balloon. They do this to separate the skin from the meat, but damn if it something else to look at, at nine in the morning and still dazed from two days of travel.
Soon guests started arriving and around one or two in the afternoon the party really got started; the highlight being a traditional drum band with crazy town crier and singer. The band was what I was expecting, and after much pounding and yelling about god knows what in Housa, they proceeded to try to get people to dance. This went on for what seemed like forever as one after another Peace Corps volunteer got up and danced for the village. At one point, thinking that I would get away with not gracing the dancing area, the band came up to me, and while yelling to everyone, they brought the drum right next to my ear until I finally got up and did a little dance for them. No worries though, by this point I could barely hear anyway, so the loudness was not as bad as it could have been. To end the whole ceremony there was a lot of speech making, an allotment of praying in Arabic for the well being of the marriage, and then to cap it all off a lot of food. After eating rice and whatever organ meat I could procure, the celebration waned as people left to return to Zinder or the bush. It still shocks me that some people don’t like good organ meat. Earlier in the day I received the liver from the ram after they found out how much I like liver. There is nothing like fresh food. Finally most of us jumped onto one of the Peace Corps cars that had come for the wedding and we returned to Zinder, where again I crashed for the night after a third very long day. The day after the wedding one of the NGO’s in Zinder, Goal, was nice enough to hold a reception, where we made home made pizza and listened to American music. It was nice to talk to and hang out with more than just volunteers and to see how other organizations do things. Sadly I didn’t get much sleep and then walked onto a bus for the fifteen hour bus ride back to Niamey, (Buses are never on schedule and the times are always different) which is where I am currently. Tomorrow I am going back to the bush for all sorts of excitement, but I will save that for next week.
The last few weeks have been some of the most hectic of my service. I came into Niamey two weeks ago and had to find some Nigeriens to play with Sebastion, Josh and I for the 45th aniversary celibration that was to take place on the day of swearing in our new volunteers. After running around like a chicken with its head cut off Sebastion and I managed to get some people from the CFPM who we worked with during the week of Pangea. After a few jam sessions we preformed for the American Abassador, the Director of Peace Corps (world wide) and a lot of other folks I can’t even name. For the third time in my service I was on Niger National Television, and the second time when I was the focus of a news story. Yeah for life in Niger.
After all of that, on the night of swear in, some friends of mine invite me to go with them the next day up to Abalak to see Gerwal, to see the Wodaabe. The Wodaabe are a Fulani tribe in Niger that refused to give up any of its culture and heritage when Islam became more prevalent. Many of them are Muslim, but it would seem that they are Wodaabe first, and Muslim second. They have elaborate costumes and ancient dances and rituals that they preform after the rainy season. The one difference about this years even is that there were no tourists! Because of the recent attacks by the Tau regs, the entire north of the country is off limits to most travelers at their own risk.
So five PCV’s and our friend Mohamed, who is a wodaabe who lives in Niamey and invited us up, head out to Abalak, which is north of Tahoua, at five in the morning on a crowded bus. After many stops and a complete change of scenery we end up at our destination, find our 4/4 driver and head out into the bush. As we were driving in hopefully the right direction we stop near some trucks that have pulled off and end up picking up a man who claims to know the way. As we set off again the moon rose a wicked yellow color and the plains of Central Niger came into full splendor. The view was breath taking as we flew along a sandy road in the middle of the bush. It took several turns and a little nervousness, but finally we made it to a Gerwal, just not the one we were supposed to go to. It was night and we were tired, so we made camp and I crashed.
The next morning we woke up early and I watched the sun rise over the last part of the Sahel before it turns into the Sahara Desert. In a few months, after no more rains, the whole area will turn back into a lonely desert until the rains come again next year. But not right now, now it is rolling grass land and sparse trees for as far as the eye can see. We broke camp and drove off to Mohamed’s families Gerwal. We found it in no time during the morning before the heat took over. We greeted the chief and soon set up next to Mohamed’s uncle.
We spent three days there, and it is hard to describe what I saw. The Fulani’s are a very beautiful people, and they take great pains to be so. Everyday they would put on make up, drink tea and then dance until the next day. When I woke up in the morning after the first day they were still dancing as they had been since ten that night. It was simply incredible. The whole ceremony is split into four parts. The first is in the morning were they wear leather coats, paint their faces a lighter shade of brown and try to focus attention upon their eyes and teeth. The white and strait er they are the more beautiful they are. The more beautiful they are the more likely they are to get a wife, which is the point of the whole celebration. During all the parts they roll their eyes and sing about things that are good. In the late afternoon all of the men stripping down to skirt, and it is meant to show off their bodies. They sing during this part, but do different dances to try and show themselves off. The third part starts after dark, and has the most intense singing and dancing. They lit up four huge bon fires and nearly 400 stripped down men were chanting and dancing to entice a bride. All of the events are heavily coordinated by older men and women who are constantly yelling at the young men and women to behave. There is a master of dance and of song. The singing during the third part is insane. Each family group gets assigned a different part to sing. There are insane rhythms, bass lines and tenor parts that mix and roll. The best is when everyone would stop for a few seconds, and then like a blast from the heavens they would all start at once. I was lucky to be right in the middle sitting down just absorbing it as it came. The last part of the whole celebration came right after the night singing. Men come together into large circles and dance and chant for close to ten hours they come in and out of the circles, maybe sleeping a bit maybe not. This seemed the least contrived and most fluid of all the different pieces and was my favorite.
The celebration can last for weeks or even a month and is roughly the same everyday, with Wodaabe coming in and out during the whole time when they can. I could not last for weeks or even a few more days. As we drove back to town I became feverish and ended up being sick until we made our way to Niamey. To much heat and too many people destroys my strength, but it was well worth the whole thing just to see the Wodaabe do what they have been doing for centuries. As a bonus I even had my hair braided like a Wodaabe man. That made for some interesting experiences, but I might save that for another post.
So I got to spend an entire week at post! The problem is that it started out poorly. After being in and out of Niamey, planting trees and puting up fencing I made it back to my house for a chunk of time. I came after having a bad day and was just happy to be around my villagers eating and talking with them again. The next morning I went to the school garden to see my trees and half of them had been attacked. They are not dead, but they were stripped and mangled of leaves and bark. The dead fencing around the garden was in shambles and my little gum arabic trees, that have been waiting for effort and rain to plant them, were over grown with weeds. I started weeding and then broke my weeding tool. I went in search of my school teacher, but couldn’t find him. After a bad day at the hostel, another one followed suit leaving me bitter and angry.
Eventually things got straitened out and we weeded everything, and started fixing the fencing. It still needs work but that will come over the next week, that is, if fate is willing. At the end of the week I felt better then I have in some time, I just wish it would have started out that way as well.
It has been a busy couple of months. I have been in and out of Niamey, Gotheye and my village, seemingly constantly. The good news is that I have not been sick and that I have gotten a lot of work done. I bought all the supplies for a Hectare of Gum Arabic. Kate, Boo and I put up fencing and planted nearly 400 trees while avoiding the rain and any number of fun things that happen during the rainy season.
It felt good to be doing something, especially something as concrete as a fence and as many trees in the ground. By Niger standards everything got put together quickly and efficiently. I could not have asked for anything more. The last batch of trees, for live fencing will be put in, if they are not already, within a week or so and then the hardest part of the project will be completed. There will be some trainings at the end of the year, but those shouldn’t be to difficult.
I got to go visit a friend of mine, Jason, in a neighboring region. It was good to get out of the Tillaberi region to a place that feels and looks nothing like my own. I live on a flat flood plain, and Jason lives up on a huge messa, with rolling hills and little ponds. We also made it down to Gaya, which is the southern most city in Niger. It didn’t even feel like Niger. It was green, muggy and very very busy. I am used to wide streets, if there are any at all, and a much slower pace of life. It was good to see, but I am glad to be back, and I am looking forward to going back to post.
That might be difficult. The main road out of town had a bridge wash out, and the ferry that crosses the river beyond the bridge is broken. The back laterite road washed out after the last rain, so getting back to post will be all sorts of fun side detours and whatnot. Other volunteers in the region have been getting in and out, but it has been taking a lot of extra time.
So a week and a half ago I got sick. I got the runs, and a fever. I didn’t think much of it until a few days later when I was still getting both. Then on last thursday after putting in a full morning of work and still carrying the symtoms I noticed a pain in my right side. Right above where my leg meets my pelvis. This scared me because that is where your apendix is. So I called Dr. Laurant and he told me to come in to Niamey. If I couldn’t make it and I got worse he said they could come get me. I was still felling well enough and the pain wasn’t noticible unless I started prodding my side. A long trip later I ended up in Niamey, which is where I have been since. The pain got worse over the next few days. I never wanted to throw up and I never lost my appitite. I was baffling several Doctors at once. On Saturday they decided that if I continued to get worse they would send me to Dakar, and that if my conditioned stayed the same I would go to Dakar. The next day I started feeling better. This was again confusing, but not unwelcome. They waited another day of me getting better and then put me on Antibiotics. I am feeling normal now, though I am a bit tired and need some rest before I get out and about again.
Its hard to say what I had. I had Amoebic dysentary when I came in, and the pain could have been caused by that. There is some other things it could have been, and they have me on Antibiotics to kill them if that is what it was. Either way I am feeling better, and with some rest I can get back to work. The rains have started and there is water coming down the seasonal river near my house. I have trees to plant and only a few months to do them.
Other than my random mystery illness, which I had one of last year, which also turned out to be Amoeba’s, I am feeling fantastic. I love my new neighbors and the excuse to get around the bush a bit more to visit them. My trees are doing well and things will be turning green in a few short weeks. All in all life is rather pleasant now, at least when I am healthy. I miss my villlage and I missed my banjo until my friends brought it to me a few days ago. The banjo makes me very happy.
After far to much time in Niamey, but after a wonderful week of music I am finally heading back to the bush. The last few days of the music camp were amazing. I did my session on the banjo, which the ambassador didn’t make it too, so no tv for me, but it went well anyway and that is what is important. I danced everyday of the week, and I am still sore in places I didn’t know existed. I learned a lot, and hopefully taught a little. Its hard to say, but in the end it was nice to see Nigerian culture and people who are relaxed and happy with what they are doing.
I loved the entire week, but I am tired. I am tired of being around people constantly. I don’t do well if I don’t have my own space to return to, I start to go nuts. Yesterday I hid in the hostel and read a book. That rejuvinated me and I am ready again to do what ever. The nice part is that I get to go back to the bush and really recharge my batteries.
Its hard to explain all the things that happened over the week. Playing with Rastas, playing the blues, learning traditional dancing, learning modern dance and so much more. I saw almost every famous Nigerian musical artist come through the center at least once. I even head banged to Metalica to show Nigerians all the different types of music. It was a strange and wonderful week and I am both sad and happy to see it end. It was one of the best experiences I have ever had in the Peace Corps, and yet I am ready to return to the quiet of the bush to write poetry and to walk along the river.
The mango trees are waving to me and the river is whispering my name, I must return; it is time.