Under the Sahelian Sun: Adventures in Niger

The Last 48 Hours

2009-05-22T05:38:00.000-07:00

The program officially ended over a week ago, but 7 of us went down to Benin for a week, primarily motivated by a desire to see the ocean. We stayed in a fishing town called Grand Popo and enjoyed a week of salt-filled, humid air. Everything in Benin was different, from the goats that were not tall and lanky but fat and short to the climate that was lush and green rather than dry and dusty to the dominance of voodoo and Christianity over Islam. Being in Benin was relaxing, but of course traveling overland in Africa was a bit stressful, especially getting back from Benin to Niamey. If you look on a map you'll see that the coast of Benin is a long way from Niamey. Our flight to the states leaves tonight at midnight, so we had about 48 hours from leaving Grand Popo to get to Niger for our flight and of course things didn't go smoothly.

Hour 48- We were waiting at our hotel in Grand Popo for the 2 taxis we'd hired to come pick us up and bring us to Cotonou to catch our bus to Niamey. We had left 4 hours in case things went wrong to make the 1.5 hour drive to the bus station. The taxis didn't show, so we had to start asking "friends" we'd made during our week in Grand Popo to try and find us a bus.

Hour 47.5- About 3 men are making calls and searching for some form of transportation. Everyone seems optimistic and says "il n'a pas du probleme" but I was getting nervous.

Hour 47- A "bus" arrives. The bus turns out to be a car the size of my subaru outback, but we squished in all seven of us plus two guides who want to come along for the ride and help out.

Hour 46.5- On the road to Cotonou and our car brakes down momentarily. We pull over and the driver gets out, opens the hood, and luckily does something that fixes things and we're on our way again.

Hour 45.5- We enter Cotonou, a bustling city that is way more intimidating than Niamey, and it turns out our driver doesn't know where to bus station is. I call the bus station worker who I had reserved tickets with and he chats with the driver and two beninoise guides who are with us. Our bus is leaving in an hour and they say "il n'a pas du probleme"- we'll make it.

Hour 45.25- Car breaks down again and we pull over where we pay a women to pour gas into our tank with a funnel as our driver yet again fixes the engine.

Hour 45- Lawali gets a call on the cell phone and it's Omar, who works for the bus company Air transport telling us we just drove by the station. Apparently even at night it's obvious when there is a car full of anasaras. We do a u-turn and make it to the bus station one hour before it leaves.

Hour 44.5- A fight breaks out at the bus station next to where we are standing and we all almost get pushed into a wall. We flee the room and everyone laughs at our apparent fear. Everyone else seems calm and barely react.

Hour 44- Bus leaves, miraculously on time.

Over the course of the next 22 hours the bus was stalled because another bus had broken down in the road and we couldn't pass it. We stopped at multiple bus stations for pee breaks in latrines without holes, something that occurs often and that I still haven't quite figured out. We stopped at a military checkpoint, which involves a string blocking the road, that took over an hour since earlier that day a bus had been caught trafficking drugs. Eventually, 22 hours later, we rolled into Niamey and took a taxi back to the welcoming CFCA.

After a much needed sleep, today I've been enjoying my last day in Niamey. I got my last egg sandwich and said goodbye to my host family. I'm about to make one last run to the musee to say goodbye to the artisans. At midnight, we will board a plane for the beginning of the next long trip, this one should be about 21 hours, but after traveling to and from Benin, Air France sounds luxurious; all the free, cold water I want, free food, wine, soda, movies, air-conditioning, toilets, and no bumps that will leave my arm bruised from hitting the window repeatedly. I'm still sad to be leaving Niamey, but the Benin trip was a nice transition that allowed us to relax, reflect, and also yearn for the ease and security of the states. I'm sure ill yearn for adventure as soon as I get home, but after four months, I think I'm ready for some comfort for a little while. I hope everyone is doing well and that everyone has enjoyed the blog. I will see you all in the States. To kala tonton.

Etakas

A Dust Storm

2009-05-05T04:18:00.000-07:00

Last night, after writing my blog about how I'll miss the constant excitement of Niger, something new and unexpected happened again. I was sleeping soundly when I woke up the the dreaded realization that the ceiling fan was slowing down and the electricity had gone out, for the third time that day. Then, there was a sudden gust of incredibly strong wind that slammed my doors and windows closed. The wind picked up even more and all that could be heard was it howling and slamming everything around the CFCA. I couldn't sleep, so I got up to see what was going on. The wind was pushing so hard against my door that for a few seconds I couldn't get it open. Finally I opened it and walked outside where the wind was knocking everything over and nearly blew me off balance. I felt like I was in a scene from some horror movie. When I got downstairs, Saraki, the RA, was up too. She said that it was a dust storm. As soon as she said this, I noticed how the air really was full with dust, even more than usual and it was caking my eyelids and making it difficult to keep my eyes open. Most of the CFCA woke up and came outside. We all just stood as the wind whipped around us and actually provided some relief from the heat. Had I not known it was a dust storm, I would've thought that a tornado or hurricane was rolling in. I wish it had been daylight, because then I would've been able to see the cloud of dust as it billowed towards us, instead we just had to feel it around us. After about 20 minutes, the electricity turned back on and the wind died down and we could go back to sleep. It was pretty crazy and all seemed like some weird dream this morning.

What I'll Miss From Niger

2009-05-04T13:00:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it, but we are almost into our last week in Niger. The program officially ends on the 14th and we're in the process of taking finals and getting ready for the "soiree culturelle" in which we will humiliate ourselves in front of everyone we know or have worked with in Niger by performing the drumming and dancing we've learned. I won't be back home until the 23rd since I'm traveling to Benin, after the program ends, to see the refreshing ocean. However, my time in Niger is running out. While I'm excited to go home and see friends and family, and not be constantly dehydrated and sweaty, I'm sad to be leaving this country behind. I figured I would just write some of the things I think i will most miss from Niger.

1) The ability to wear absurd colors and patterns on my clothing. Here, every day is like dress up day in first grade. I'll miss wearing Nigerien outfits, watching the boys walk around with turbans and bubus, and having it be cool to wear things so flashy that they would be used to make clown attire in the states. For example, one girl has an outfit made out of a fabric that is bright yellow, orange, blue and covered in ducks. Here, there's nothing out of the ordinary about and everyone says she looks great.

2) Being somewhere that animist traditions are still valued, believed, and followed, despite the fact that everyone will tell you they are a fully committed Muslim. Coming from an incredible rational, scientific evidence based background, it has been great to just be around people that believe in the supernatural. Animism doesn't criticize personal behavior or try to convert in the way of Christianity or Islam and it therefore makes me less uncomfortable to take part in. Going to the feticheur, seeing griots at weddings, going to a possession ceremony, and hearing explanations of everyday occurrences through the eyes of a belief system that was so foreign to me before coming has been fascinating and fun.

3) The absurdity of daily life. Never really knowing what is going to happen makes everyday and every exit from home a potential adventure. While sometimes it was definitely frustrating to have things not go according to plan and tiring to be in a place where I wasn't quite sure how things worked, I'll miss the hilarity of living in Niger. Whether it's having a taxi cab driver pull over and take a 10 minute tea break while you're waiting in the car, getting a popped tire on a moto and seeing your supervisor try to refill it with a bicycle pump, getting stuck in traffic because a herd of cattle is crossing the street, having a friend's friend, who I just met, hear it's my birthday and whip out a fully wrapped present from under his dashboard to hand to me, or having the post office worker bring out my mutilated package and say sorry, we have rats and they have eaten your package, something slightly odd is always happening and I'll miss that.

4) Nigerien hospitality. While getting food forced down my throat wherever I go has at times been a challenge, Nigerien's openness, friendliness, and desire to take care of visitors, friends, and family has been very nice. Whenever I've entered a home, marriage ceremony, possession ceremony, office, or any new situation with new people, I have been welcomed enthusiastically even though I am a complete stranger. It's always awkward to walk into a room where you don't speak the local language, don't fully understand what's going on, and look so different from everyone around you that the whole room stares. However, I've learned to embrace those moments, smile, and try to communicate as best I can without any embarrassment by the laughter that usually follows. When I've shown up to new places, usually brought by someone who then abandons me to socialize, no one has ever questioned my being there, they have offered me food, a seat, water, and sometimes a small child to hold. This no questions asked hospitality is a nice break from life at home and the fact that Nigeriens don't seem to think these interactions are in any way awkward has allowed me to enter social situations that I normally wouldn't.

While there are probably many more little things that I'll miss but won't really realize till I get home, these are some things that right now I'm scared to lose. Of course Niger isn't perfect and I've been here long enough to stop romanticizing it in the way I often do when I visit countries for shorter periods of time. There are plenty of things I'm looking forward to returning to in the States, mainly food, family/friends, understanding how it is appropriate to act and not having to always watch myself in fear of offending someone and misrepresenting Americans, and of course not being so hot. Still, it will be really difficult to go back to the excesses of the world's richest country after living in one of the world's poorest. It will be hard to be in a place where most people don't care, or really know about, this country that I now value so much. This will especially be difficult after seeing the way Nigeriens embrace America, love Obama, and often seem to know and care almost more about our politics than the their own. I can only predict so much how things will go when I get home, but I'm sure it will be a mix of many different thoughts and emotions. I'm already in the process of trying to come back here after graduation, so at least I'm not leaving Niger with no hope of coming back. Good luck to everyone else who is grappling with coming home from study abroad. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone back in the States this summer.

Etakas/Emily

Nigerien Transportation

2009-04-26T03:29:00.000-07:00

The other day I saw a cow on top of a bush taxi. I'm not sure how they managed to get a full grown cow, with horns, on the roof, bush taxis are about the size and shape of minivans, but it was there, sitting patiently on the side of the road, waiting for the driver to take it away to some unknown destination. I'm always surprised and oddly impressed with the way nigeriens transport goods, livestock, and people. To start, the motto seems to be that there is always room for more. You may think there is no more space for you in that bush taxi, but I've never been denied a ride. As long as you're willing to sit on someone's lap, we've fit about 8 students into normal taxis that are smaller than most american cars. When there isn't room on the inside of a vehicle, it is always possible to ride on the outside. I've seen men sitting nonchalantly on a couch, on top of about 8 feet of grains bags, on top of a pickup truck, barreling down the road at 50 miles per hour. Motorcycles are not built for two, but for however many can hang on, and sticking a toddler in front near the handle bars is perfectly acceptable. I think one of my favorite motorcycle transport use scenes was when I saw two men driving through Niamey on a moto with a giant queen size mattress balancing on their heads.

Livestock transport is equally, if not more, creative. Live goats get strapped onto the top of cars, the backs of motos, and even the handle bars of bicycles. One time, I got into the back of a bush taxi and I kept thinking I heard a sheep baaing, but there was no sheep in site, so I figured I was just hearing things. However, I kept hearing the noise, and then I finally realized that their was a sheep stuffed underneath my seat.

Seeing that cow on top of a bush taxi was one of the more impressive examples of cow transport that I've seen, but I also often see multiple cows sitting down, squished together, in the back of a pick-up truck. I think the most I saw was 8 cows at one time. I have no idea how the get them all into the pickup truck, sitting down, and calm enough to not gorge someone with their horns.

Just like there is always more room in vehicles, there is always more life and use that can be gotten out of cars, trucks, and motos. Vehicles that would have been long thrown into the junkyards at home are puttering along and helping their owners make a living. When I was in a bush taxi in Konni, and was fortunate to be sitting in the more spacious front seat next to the driver, I looked over and realized that in all the spots where the dials on speed, motor condition, gas level, etc would be on the dashboard, there were just empty plastic circles. The dashboard was completely blank. No one could know our speed or gas level, but it didn't matter, we continued along, carrying a cargo of about 30 people in the back. Also, in the states, we are overly concerned with having 4 wheel drive vehicles for off-roading. Most of Niamey's roads are unpaved, but the little taxis seem to do just fine navigating them. It may be bumpy, but in the end I've always gotten to my destination. Additionally who cares about a few scratches on your car. Driving in Niamey is essentially like playing a game of bumper cars. Sometimes you stop at a red light, whoever is quicker passes through the one lane opening, and if someone rear-ends you or knocks off you side mirror, you just move on, because, as the nigeriens say, everyday about everything; "Il n'a pas du probleme".

The last thing that is added to the mix of the hectic, but exciting world of nigerien transportation are the donkey carts and the camels. Even in the capital city of Niamey, cars share the road with donkey carts and camels. Sometimes, your taxi gets stuck behind a donkey pulling water and you just have to wait patiently until there is room to pass. On the side of the road there are camels either being walked and carrying mats in from the bush or being ridden, and somehow controlled, by men who sit relaxed on top as they ride along side the the zooming cars, motos, and buses.

When safety consciousness and regulation are thrown out the window, figuring out transportation is a whole different ball-game. It's sometimes scary, usually funny, and always surprising to get from point A to point B.

Etakas

The First Rain

2009-04-21T08:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the hottest day yet in Niger. It was around 115, which it has reached already, but the air was stale and it no longer gets cooler in the night, so the day felt much more stifling. The nigeriens have started complaining about the heat, so I know that it actually is hot and that I'm allowed to admit to myself that I am incredibly physically uncomfortable. It's kind of like in the bitter days of winter at home when the first thing everyone says to each other is a complaint about the frigid weather. Here, instead of complaints about the cold, it's complaints about the heat. When you enter a class, get in a cab, or walk into a store, someone will say, "akwai zahi", which is hausa for "it's hot" and I always shake my head and agree as the sweat pouring down my face proves that yes, it is hot. The best way to describe the heat is to imagine living in a sauna. Then imagine that when the wind blows it's not refreshing but rather feels like a blow drier is being aimed directly at your face. That's about how hot season in Niger feels. To sleep, we wrap ourselves in a pagne and take a shower then walk directly to bed without drying off. The pagne usually stays wet long enough to allow you to fall asleep. Hopefully a power outage doesn't happen in the middle of the night, leaving you without a fan and without hope of a restful night of sleep.

Last night, however, came a welcome surprise that I never thought I would experience while in Niger. During the day, there were a few scattered clouds in the sky, which provided a little more shade than the usual bright blue, cloudless skies of Niamey, but I didn't think anything of it. At night, a couple of us ventured out to an air-conditioned bar to seek some refuge. As we left the CFCA, the air felt different and the wind was blowing a cooler breeze, turning the leaves on the trees upside down. At home, I would assume these signs to be that of a rainstorm, but here I was afraid that would be too good to be true. Then, just as I thought it was impossible, there was lightning and all of us jumped with excitement at the possibility that rain might actually happen. Still, no drops fell, and the tension in the air remained. We got to the bar and I kept running outside to check if it had started raining, but nothing happened. A couple hours after the lightning, I started to think my wish wouldn't come true. Around 1130, I decided to go home and attempt to sleep. I got a taxi and was about half way home when all of a sudden it looked like someone had dropped a bucket of water on the taxi's windshield. Just like that, it was pouring rain in Niamey. Everyone outside ran for cover and the taxi driver and other passenger immediately started rolling up their windows. I, on the other hand, was squealing with delight and yelling, "C'est bonne! Il pleut! C'est bonne" and sticking my head out the window to catch some of the raindrops on my head. The taxi driver just laughed at me and shook his head, asking if this was the first rain I'd seen in Niger. Finally I got dropped off at our road, luckily before the rain stopped, and, concerned for the fate of my hand-made leather sandals, I took them off and ran barefoot through the rain on the dirt road to the CFCA. It was night, but if any Nigeriens had seen me, I'm sure they would have thought I was insane. I was planning to wake anyone up who was sleeping, but the rain had already woken up everyone, and even Betoje, sick with malaria, was outside enjoying the storm. All of the nigerien staff and friends were hiding for cover, but all of us anasaras were loving the shower.

The rain poured for about 20 glorious minutes, and then, as quickly as it started, the rain stopped. Unfortunately, the rain brought some humidity to the air, but it was still refreshing. Today, the air smelled damp and the dust that normally fills the air was slightly matted down on the ground from last night's storm. I don't think I've ever gone 3 months before without rain or at least some form of precipitation. To be able to experience the relief of Niger's first rain of the year was very cool and made myself, and everyone around me, in much higher spirits.

Etakas

Konni pictures

2009-04-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

baby camels near the peace corp volunteer's village

one of the grain storage structures

a cow coming back from being herded by fulanis during the day infront of the pcv's home

some women on one of the roads to the gardens

camels at the watering hole.

Konni

2009-04-12T03:00:00.001-07:00

This past week we stayed with peace corps volunteers in Konni. Konni is an 8 hour drive east of Niamey, located about 7km from the Nigeria border. Konni is the base for one of the peace corps regions, so there is a hostel there that peace corps volunteers can stay at. We stayed at the hostel for one night before heading out to villages with pcvs. For my village stay, I was with an agriculture volunteer, Jessica, in Tonga, with a population of 250. The village depended upon agriculture for their livelihoods and grew millet and sorghum in the surrounding fields. Most villagers also possessed some livestock, mainly cows, donkeys, and goats, that were used as security in case the crops failed. All throughout the village were clay grain storage buildings that look like giant ceramic bowls I made in elementary school art class. Unfortunately, at this time of year many of the storage units were empty and it was the beginning of what my pcv called "hunger season." It's towards the end of the dry season and most of the crops are gone. Many of the village men move to Ghana or Nigeria during this season to look for work and extra money. One of the projects that agriculture volunteers work on is obtaining shallow wells for gardens during dry season. There are a few gardens already near Tonga and I visited one during my stay. The gardens was like a little oasis in the dry, sandy brushland. They were green, cooler, and provided much needed produce like tomatoes, carrots, and cabbage. Ideally, by building more wells for these types of gardens, the men will be able to stay and work on them during dry season and the villagers will have supplemental, and more nutritious, food. Now in the village, 95% of what is eaten is either sorghum or millet. I had the unfortunate opportunity to try some of this food and it was by far one of the most unappetizing things I've eaten yet. Tuwo is basically sorghum ground up with water into a purply mush and covered in a slimy, spicy sauce. You can't bite down too hard, because little bits of sand get into the sorghum as it is pounded. It is also pounded right next to the livestock area, where animals have been doing their business all day. You just have to ignore all of the things your parents and teachers ever told you about sanitation and hope for the best. The tuwo honestly didn't taste as bad as it looked, but that wasn't really saying much. Still, I was glad I tried it since that it what most Nigeriens live on all year.

The few days I stayed in Tonga were incredibly relaxing and slow paced. I milked a cow for the first time. Here, the female cows have horns. I didn't realize that we cut off our female cows horns in the states until coming here. I played with baby animals (goats, dogs, and cows) and as usual the nigeriens laughed at the strange love the white people have for animals. I played with lots of human babies as well and watched as they ran around naked and were given free rein to climb wood piles, throw rocks, and get into some vicious little fist fights. Unlike many volunteers, my pcv didn't pay someone to pull her water and she did it herself everyday. I helped her out and pulled water up from the well and then carried it precariously on my head back to her compound. I'm always impressed with the physical strength and toughness of nigerien women. Pulling water is a workout and then carrying it on your head left my neck and back sore after only 3 days. We also only had to pull water for two and we only had to make about a minute with the water. Most women pull many more buckets and carry it much longer distances. Of course, the men don't help at all with this.
One of the most interesting things we did was hang out with some of the tuaregs who lived nearby Tonga. We went on a walk and came upon the tuareg camp, where, in typical nigerien hospitality, we were invited in, given a seat, offered food, and made tea. I've spent time with tuaregs in Niamey, but they are all tuaregs who have given up the nomadic lifestyle. The tuaregs near Tonga were just settled in Tonga for the dry season, with their herds of camels, goats, and cows. Once the rainy season starts, they will pack up their campground and head north to the Agadez region. During the dry season, when there are fewer crops, there is little tension between the Tuareg herders and the Hausa farmers, but once the rains fall and the crops are laid, tensions rise over land use and apparently ever year there is a murder between the two groups. Although with my low-level hausa I couldn't understand most of what was said, I was happy to just sit and observe the camp set up and the Tuaregs. There is such a relaxing vibe when with tuaregs and there is much more equality between men and women in their culture. They don't practice polygamy and women are much more respected.
The peace corps village stay was much less challenging than I had expected. Although there was no electricity and therefore no fans, it felt much cooler than in Niamey, where the heat gets trapped. I was told it hit 120 during our days in the village, but it just really didn't feel that bad. The mornings are cooler and it dropped low enough at night for me to use a sheet while sleeping outside. Between 12 and 4, you just don't move and sit under and tree. Having no electricity just meant going to bed early and waking up earlier than I would normally. Additionally the moon was so bright that it was easy to see most things going on outside. Latrines I'm already used to since we have to use them all the time here and the pcv latrines are much nicer than most since each volunteer has their own, personal one and they get much less use than say the horrific latrines we use at bus stops. I thought I might spend a few days in the village and think twice about joining the peace corps, but instead this experience actually made me a lot more excited about the prospect of joining. It's definitely a challenging experience, especially here in Niger, but it's also such an amazing opportunity and adventure. Now, we're back in Niamey and are entering our last month in Niger. It freaks me out that we're in the last part, but luckily a few of us are going on a week long trip to Benin at the end, so I'll be sure to get in at least one more adventure.
Etakas

More Photos

2009-04-05T05:16:00.000-07:00

a medium dancing at the possession ceremony. She was possessed by a red spirit later on.

calabasse players digging the holes under the spirit canopy to put their calabasse in

playing with a baby goat at the possession ceremony

a camel crossing one of niamey's streets

dressed up for a marriage

Spirit Possession

2009-03-29T15:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I attended my first spirit possession ceremony. Amina picked us up in the morning and drove us far out into the outskirts of Niamey where you feel like you're out in the bush rather than in a nation's capital city. We arrived at noon and had to walk the last portion because the dirt road was impassible by car. The ceremony was being held at a griot's home on top of a small hill where the wind blew through with a steady breeze. The ceremony was supposed to start at 10, but when we arrived at noon, the calabasse (a type of percussion instrument) players hadn't arrived so the ceremony hadn't started. We had to just wait until the unknown hour that they would come. While waiting, I found out the reason for this particular ceremony. Amina's cousin had called for the ceremony, which means she hired a griot to set things up, get spirit mediums, music, and food. She is a third wife and called for the ceremony to have vengeance on her husband's other two wives. The other wives had been making her life miserable and she was hoping she could ask the spirits to make her husband divorce his other wives. Therefore, the spirits that would be called were the red spirits, who are godless and angry, and the Hauka- one of the more aggressive spirits that emerged as a spirit family after colonization. The Hauka represent the colonizers and european military.

As usual, the calabasse players took forever to come. While we waited, we talked to feticheurs, ate, played with baby goats, talked to the other spectators, and even took a nice nap under the musician's and medium's thatched roof. Finally, at 230, the calabasse arrived and they dug the holes to put the calabasse in which allows for a deep, loud sound. The one-stringed violin player was already there and we were ready to go. Once the music finally started, there were probably about 100 people gathered around to wait and watch.

The first part of a possession ceremony is to dance and prepare "the floor" (sand in front of the musicians) for spirits. Of course, the nigeriens wanted to see the anasaras dance and before I knew what was happening, all of us students were dancing in front of the musicians. At first we were dancing with nigeriens, but suddenly I was left alone with Hamudsha and the feticheur was motioning for me to dance by myself. I took a breathe, thought of one of the dances we learned in our traditional dance class, and just went for it; stomping to the rhythm and swinging my arms towards the calabasse players. There were cheers and laughter, but everyone was smiling, so at least I didn't offend anyone, plus now I can officially say I danced for spirits at a Nigerien possession ceremony.

After dancing, we sat down, and let the mediums (those who can get possessed) dance. Under the tent/roof/hut, the griots were yelling at mediums, encouraging the spirits to come. As the first sign of red spirit possession, one women started shaking and crying. Finally, she lifted her arm over her head and stood up, so we knew the spirit had come. She ran back in forth on the floor and started to shake her arms violently before falling to the ground, screaming, and pawing at the dirt. Another women was starting to shake and cry. This women was a surprise, because she wore a full muslim headdress down to her knees. In Islam, believing in spirits is one of the greatest sins, yet here was a women who was conservative enough to fully veil herself, starting to get possessed. In fact, before the ceremony began, most of the audience and participants had been praying to Allah at the call to prayer. It just showed so clearly what everyone had been telling me: that even though Niger is labeled as almost entirely Muslim, there are contradictions and animism still has a hidden stronghold. After about ten minutes, the spirits decided not to stay and both women sat back down.

We waited longer, with more singing and dancing, hoping something would happen. Then, another women started flailing and screaming, falling to ground. She was followed by two more men. All were in the process of being possessed by red spirits. All of a sudden, the women around me scream, jump up, and run. I jump up startled and turn around the see the man behind me hurling himself about 3 feet in the air and slamming violently down on his back. He did this about 6 times and with such force I thought his head would crack. Then he stood up, with crazy eyes, jerky movements, and foam spewing out of his mouth, and I knew, from seeing a video and hearing descriptions, that this was a Hauka. As he walks towards the floor, I see that there's another women possessed by a Hauka. She is stomping, saluting, and spitting massive amounts of white foam out of her mouth. Then, I realize it's the muslim women from before, but now her headscarf is nowhere to be seen and her head is exposed to the world as she walks around angrily.

This time, the five spirits are here to stay, and their costumes are put on. Each spirit has a wardrobe that is put on the body of the medium when the spirit has fully arrived. The women who has called the ceremony goes inside to have the first conversation with the spirits. Her family goes in as well and Amina informs us that she has arranged for us to go in as well. So, we all pile into this little house and wait for the 5 spirits to come in and join us. The red spirits didn't really make me nervous, but the Hauka really freaked me out and I wasn't really looking forward to being stuck in a tiny house with them. They entered and the red spirits sat down, but the Hauka walked around, shaking everyones hands, slapping their backs, grabbing shoulders, and making the strangest grunting, guttural noises. Then, the Hauka male comes over to us and takes turns shaking our hands. He grabs my hand so hard I think he's going to break it. The Hauka women then comes over and shakes all of our hands. She is foaming so much that her spit hits me. Suddenly, a women screams and drops to the floor in the corner of the room. She is getting possessed and her sisters run over to untie the baby from her back. The women had jumped back and almost hit her baby on the wall. Luckily, the baby was removed in time. Amina asked me to hold the child while they tried to take care of her cousin. I ended up carrying around the baby for about an hour as everyone asked the spirits questions and the Hauka strutted around the room giving menacing stares. Despite their angry appearance, the Hauka had nice things to say to us. They told us we would be protected during our stay in Niger and that we would be brought good fortune.

After awhile, we went outside, and I found a family member to give the baby back to. Eventually the spirits came out to say goodbye. They all shook our hands, screamed, cried, and ran around, causing all the watching little children to scatter. Then, the final dance began. One by one the possessed fell to the ground and were brought to a mat where they lay, exhausted, and lifeless. The last Hauka, the male, danced angrily and forcefully then fell in the air, landed on his back, jumped up, ran around, and was caught and calmed by on-lookers who brought him to a chair now that he was back in his human form. All the mediums drank water and looked drained. None of them remembered anything of the past 2-3 hours when they were possessed. I couldn't find the muslim women possessed by the Hauka. Amina told me she was probably busy praying to Allah for forgiveness. None of the mediums looked happy. Being a medium is not desirable. They are not paid to attend ceremonies but are obliged to go to any ceremony that requests the spirit they are a medium for. Mediums don't choose to be mediums, the spirits choose them. When a person goes into "spirit sickness", they must go to a griot who tells them they must become a medium for a certain spirit or stay sick and maybe die. If mediums don't do their spirits bidding, there are tales of spirits killing the medium.

Once the final dance was over, it was 730. We had been there for almost 8 hours and the sun was setting. Everyone was exhausted and thirsty. We said thanks and goodbye and headed back home.

It's hard to accurately describe seeing a possession ceremony. All I can say is that when you see someone possessed, especially by the Hauka, it's hard to provide any rational explanation for what is happening. Seeing the man throw himself on the ground with back-breaking force, the white foam that was streaming out of the Hauka's nose and mouth, and then seeing a women, who I would see on the street as a conservative muslim, take off her veil, strut around, foam, and salut all made it impossible to think these people were acting. Something was going on and if spirits aren't the explanation than I'd love to know what is. It was the scariest, most fun, most exciting, and most interesting thing that I've ever experienced. Hopefully, we'll be able to go to more. There's a youtube video called Mad Masters by Jean Rouch that shows a Hauka possession ceremony in Ghana. The Hauka in that video act identical to the Hauka I saw yesterday. If anyone wants to have a taste of a possession ceremony, they should watch that video.

hope everyone abroad is having interesting and exciting experiences!

Etakas

Homestay: Family Diahara

2009-03-27T04:56:00.000-07:00

At the homestay reception with my family

This week was our homestay week where I was placed with the Diahara family. The family lives about a 10 minute taxi ride away from the CFCA in a quartier called Kalley Sud. It is a five family compound owned by a old women referred to as "la vielle". she rents out the 5 small homes to different families and there are two shared latrines for the whole compound. Although latrines aren't my favorite, I was fortunate to have atleast a hole in the ground. Another student, Betoje, had an enclosed area with no hole and spent nearly the whole week trying to find out "where it goes." My family consisted of a mother, sister (Kadidia), cousin (Binta), a visiting niece (Lela), and a "bonne" or maid (Sada). Nearly all of our families had "bonnes" working at their homes. My family was fairly poor, my host mother's job was selling yogurt drinks and juice on the street, but they still had a bonne. From what I understand, poor girls from outside the city come to Niamey, live together, and work cheaply for families throughout the city.
I wanted to stay with the Diahara family because I wanted to spend more time with Nigerien women. I certainly got my wish and spent most of the week hanging out in the compound, helping to wash and cook, which makes up the majority of women's time in Niger. However, I had assumed that since it was a female headed household, it would be a progressive household with a feminist mother like Amina. As usual, in Niger things are never as expected and I knew things wouldn't be quite as I imagined when my host mother and sister showed up to pick me up with their heads fully covered in the more conservative muslim fashion. I immediately felt slightly embarassed by the exposed shoulders of my tighter fitting nigerien outfit. When we got home I discovered that the father had died which explained why Madame Diahara lived without a man. Her daughter Kadidia, went to university in Algeria and is working in a lab here in Niamey. Kadidia explained that she had decided to start wearing the veil in high school when she better understood her religion. It's still so hard for me to understand choosing to put on the veil, since it remains a symbol of oppression in my mind, however, at least in Niger it is a choice and not required by any formal law. For women like Kadidia who choose to wear the veil it is a symbol of their submission and respect for Allah and a protection against the wandering eye and impure thoughts of men. On Sunday, when Kadidia was going to take me to her aunts, she asked what I would wear. I said I could wear my outfit from yesterday and she paused and then suggested I wear one of her outfits. She brought me what is essentially and two piece, shapeless, long-sleeved mumu. I easily read between the lines and understood she wanted me to dress more conservatively. The whole family then praised my beauty in the mumu and it was given to me as a gift. However, after wearing it all afternoon, I realized it was incredibly comfortable in the heat. If people here actually think I look good in a mumu, then I might as well take advantage of it and wear it.
My family was incredibly welcoming and friendly, as is almost everyone here. The girls are ages 12, 13, and 17 and my host sister is 26. Everyone except for the bonne, Sada, spoke french, so I was able to communicate very well with almost everyone. There were also two young boys, 4 months and 3 years, living next door. This was perfect because I like little children, but only in small quantities. It was also fun because I was the first white person both of them had seen. Being little kids first white person is always entertaining. At first, the kid walks in the room, stops dead in their tracks, and just stares at you. Sometimes they cry, but the little boys Boubacar and Abdul didn't, they just stared. Then, if they don't run away crying, I walk over slowly and crouch down next to them. After a couple more seconds, I put out my hand for them to touch. Usually, the kid will gingerly touch your skin and once they realize nothing bad has happened, they'll be comfortable and just want to play with you. This is what happened with both the homestay kids and Boubacar, who can walk and therefore has the freedom to explore on his own like all children here, would come over often to play with me. The baby Abdul was brought over often to sit in my lap and he was very amused by my hair. He did barf on me once, but other than that , I really enjoyed playing with both kids and they weren't too demanding like some children here, starved for individual attention, can be.
Most of the time spent at home revolved around food; either buying supplies, cooking, eating, or cleaning. Meal time was the most trying time at homestay, for all the students, as nigerien hospitality involves an expectation that guests will eat massive quantities of food. Every meal felt like an episode of the travel channel show "Man verse Food." The large platter with unknown meat came out. My host mother piled my plate with rice, sauce, fries, meat, salad, and bread in quanties about 3 times the amount I would normally give myself. I would shove as much food in mouth as possible and when I slowed down or paused for a second, one of the family members would forcefully say the dreaded phrase, "Il faut manger!" Which translates to "One must eat!" I would then shove more food in my mouth, hoping it was enough, but it never was and "Il faut manger" would be yelled again. Finally, my family would be satisfied with the massive quantities of food I had by some miracle shoved down my throat in 100 degree heat. With sweat tripping down my face, the plate would be removed, and I could relax. All of this forceful eating came from a wish to make sure I, and all the other students who experienced the same thing, were taken care of. There is no such thing as being a picky eater here. You eat what is put in front of you, no questions asked. I love the fact that no food is wasted and you never hear a kid say in a whiny voice, "Ew, I don't like that." Also, weight gain is not a negative thing or a social taboo to discuss. Every day my host family would tell me that I must get fat and that I would get fat if I would just eat what they gave me. I explained how in the States people don't want to get fat, and they just laughed at me and said, "Il faut manger!"
I got my wish during homestay of connecting with nigerien women in my age group. I've already promised to go back there this sunday to hang out. At the Diahara's I slept outside under the stars, and besides being woken up by the call for morning prayer, I slept better in the somewhat cooler night time air. I'll probably sleep over there at least a few more times throughout the semester. It was a good week and I'm very glad I decided to live with the Diahara family even though, as usual, they weren't what I expected. I'll try to post some pictures of my family tomorrow. Hope everyone is doing well!
Etakas

Bill Gates Must Have Many Wives

2009-03-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

The other day I had a very entertaining conversation with some artisans at the musee. The artisan next to me, whose name I keep forgetting, asked me if I knew of Bill Gates. I said of course I knew about Bill Gates. He then preceded to inform me that he was very rich. I said I knew because he was the richest man in the world. At that point the artisan said yes he is very, very rich and he must have many wives. He asked me how many wives Bill Gates had. I laughed and stated that he only had one wife. The artisan looked shocked and laughed, saying "seulement une!". I said it wasn't legal in the U.S. to have more than one wife and he laughed and said, "so that's why a lot of white men like to come here." I laughed and said that I wasn't sure if that was the reason since in the U.S. many men have many girlfriends, they just can only have one wife. I was also sure to mention that many women have many boyfriends, which got another chuckle out of him.

I kind of always assumed that Nigeriens knew that polygamy wasn't allowed in the U.S., but at this moment I realized that was an incorrect assumption. Of course, from the viewpoint of many Nigeriens, it would be safe to assume that a very rich man would have multiple wives. In Niger, it is legal and socially acceptable for men to have up to four wives, as is allowed by Islam. Women can't legally deny their husbands more than one wife. Some divorces do occur because of a wife's refusal to allow her husband another wife, but most of the women I've talked to seem to believe that, because they are muslim, they must allow their husbands to take up to four wives. My favorite argument against polygamy came from my wonderful feminist professor Amina. She said that the Koran allows men four wives if they can treat, care for, and love all equally. Amina says she believes it's impossible for a man to have four wives and not show preference for one over the other, so she believes it is going against religion for these men to take another wife. There are many arguments on either side, and although I still firmly believe it is impossible for women to be equals in a society where polygamy is allowed, I am trying to keep an open mind and I have seen many examples of polygamous families that function very well. Either way, I found it a funny and interesting moment when I realized how to many it may seem incredulous that the richest man in the world could only have one wife.

Tomorrow we are starting our one week homestays. Several students are going to be living in polygamous households and I'm very curious to hear about those experiences. In my new obsession to meet nigerien women, I opted to live with a single mother family with two daughters, one is 15 and one is 26. From what I know, they live in a compound with five other families and I'll be sharing a room with the older daughter. There are hardly any single women headed households and I'm really curious to find out more about how they ended up in their situation and how they are perceived by others. In general, there is a huge stigma here against women raising children alone. It will also be really nice to just live in Niamey with a family and see a different side of the city. I also might get to go to a possession ceremony on sunday which would be awesome since I've been learning about them in class and they are absolutely fascinating. Although Niger is a Muslim country, animism still plays a large role, it's just more hidden. The longer I'm here the more I realize how real a role spirits play in people's lives. I've already gone to a feticheur (a sort of fortune-teller) twice and I'm starting to believe there is some truth to it. It's also just really fun to throw away some of my rationality and let myself believe in things like possession and spirits. Here, it's easy to do so and most of us in the group are hoping to see multiple possession ceremonies and go back to the feticheurs. More updates to come after homestay is over. I had a great birthday yesterday, thanks for those of you that sent me messages!

Emily/Etakas

Eating Out

2009-03-14T02:29:00.000-07:00

Most days we have our meals prepared within the safe food handling confines of the CFCA. However, as time has gone by, almost 2 months today, we have have had more opportunities and more courage to eat out. This was especially true in Burkina where every meal we had to find on our own. Eating out in Niger takes patience and leads to many funny and gross adventures.
There are three options if you want the cheapest meals in Niger or Burkina. The first is the reliable egg sandwich. For about 50 US cents, you can get a half loaf of bread stuffed with scrambled eggs, onions, and spices.
The second option is brochettes and fries. With this choice, one dollar will get you a plate of fries and usually 3 or 4 skewers of grilled meat. This is a slightly more risky choice than the egg sandwich as it involves mystery meat. I'd say the reintroduction of meat into my life is one of the largest changes I've made since coming to Niger. Since 6th grade, I had not touched red meat, but here the options for vegetarians are incredibly limited and I decided to just dive in. The other day it really dawned on me how much of a 180 I've done when I was sitting outside on a bench, waiting for my brochettes to come. There was a massive goat carcass a few feet away, surrounded by flies, being hacked up in the open air by a man who then passed the meat pieces to a women next to him that threw the meat on a grill for several minutes, then put the meat on a plate and handed it to me. With a little mustard on top, I dove in. Unfortunately, this meat was not one of the happy surprises of eating out and had a very strange texture probably due to that fact that it came from a different part of the animal than I'd ever eaten before. Still, with the fries to help me out, I finished most of the meat off. In Niger, there is no nice, pre-packaged meat. You can't forget for a second that what you are eating is coming from an animal. Although it sounds grosser, I almost like it better, because it's so in your face. If you can't handle seeing exactly where the food you're eating is coming from, then you probably shouldn't be eating it.
The third cheap eats option is the staple rice and sauce. All around Burkina there were hole in the wall "restaurants" serving the one choice item of rice and sauce. Sometimes, it's a good sauce. At one restaurant, which consisted of a few chairs and a table on a covered deck next to a motorcycle repair shop that blew fumes into our faces throughout the whole meal, the red sauce was a pleasant surprise and I finished off the heaping plate of rice very satisfied. This meal costs a total of 60 cents.
However, on other occassions, we weren't so lucky. I think I can safely say that one of the worst meals of my life was at one of these rice and sauce restaurants in Banfora. We were walking around searching for restaurants, tired, and very hungry. Finally, I saw this faded, broken sign that said "Restaurant", so we figured, what the hell, we'd try it out. We walked down a little path that seemed like it led to someone's house until we got to a few tables and an outdoor cooking area. After standing there awkwardly for a few minutes, a man finally got up and came over. Our conversation, in broken french, went like this:
Me: hello
Him: hello
Me: Do you have food
Him: (pause) yes...we have food
Me: Can we eat here.
Him: (pause) yes...you can eat here
Me: What do you have to eat
Him: (pause) we have rice
Me: do you have sauce
Him: I don't know...let me check (he goes to talk to a women) yes we have sauce
Me: Can six of us eat the rice and sauce
Him: (pause) yes, you can eat
So after about 10 minutes trying to figure out if we could eat rice and sauce at this "restaurant" we were seated outside under a thatched roof. The sun had set at this point, so I asked if there was any light. And, after a long pause, he answered that no, there was no light. So here we were, waiting in the dark for our food, barely able to see eachother. When the food finally came, we couldn't see more than just an outline of what we were eating. There were big chunks in the sauce that were either vegetable or meat and the only way to find out was to bite down. Someones sauce tasted like fish and there were defintely some pieces of meat that had questionable textures. Everything was going okay until Inuwa nearly broke his front tooth on a piece of bone. At that point, it became hazardous to eat the sauce in the dark, so I tried to pick around for the plain rice. In the end, I wasn't hungry anymore, but I'm not sure if it was from eating enough or from being grossed out. We left the restaurant and paid our 40 cents. Miraculously, no one got sick that night.
We've been back in Niamey for a week now and it has been fairly uneventful. Everyone has been pretty lathargic due to the fact that the hot season is definitely starting and additionally a high proportion of people have been getting sick. I was getting pretty cocky about my stomach's ability to handle things, but 2 days ago, I got hit pretty badly with something and was immobile for 24 hours. Although there are many potential causes, I think I know who the culprit was of this particular stomach sickness. When I was out with R and A, the microfinance organization, we stopped at one of the women's houses who makes and sells juice for a living. I was hot and she offered me a cold bottle of her juice. I downed it quickly and then noticed the bottling operation that was occuring to my left. There were piles of dirty plastic bottles that seemed to have been collected from the street's trash piles. A women was taking the bottles and washing them in a bucket of very brown looking water. Then, the juice was put in and it was handed over for sale. Although I am a proponent of recycling, when I realized the bottle I had just drunk from most likely came from one of Niamey's open garbage pits, and was cleaned in cold, murky water, my heart sank. A day later, I spent 24 hours between the bathroom and my bed, so I'm just going to assume it was the juice. However, now I'm better, and life goes on, but I am going to be more cautious again about what I'm eating and drinking.
Eating out in Niger, or doing anything for that matter, is always an adventure and a test of patience. As long as you can find the humor in every odd, unexpected, and unplanned moment, then life is good and full of excitement and lots of laughter.

Burkina Faso!!!

2009-03-08T00:02:00.000-08:00

petting a crocodile

getting too close to hippos

climbing rock formations in banfora

with kids in the cliff village near Bobo

Last night we got back to Niamey from our ten day trip to Burkina Faso. Over the course of the trip, we visisted three cities/towns; Ouagadougou, Bobo, and
Banfora. This led us to travel west from Niamey into Burkina, where we spent a night in Ouaga, then southwest to Bobo, then further southwest to Banfora (close to the Cote d'Ivoire border), and then back up to Ouagadougou for the final stretch of our trip. All this travel led to lots of bus rides, for which the air-conditioning broke within the first hour of the first trip, and lots of views of the countryside. The landscape in Burkina, especially once you get farther and farther west and south, is much greener than in Niger. There are more lush trees and the air itself is filled with less dust and more humidity. At several points, we saw large areas of cultivated land that stretched on endlessly and reminded me of some of the fields I see in upstate NY. There were some high-tech irrigation systems that were spraying water accross the cultivated land, something I have not seen at all in Niger. Even the villages we drove through seemed slightly more prosperous. Rather than homes being constructed primarily of reeds or mud, the homes along the side of the road in Burkina seemed to be made of more sturdy materials like mud bricks or even some cement. Another noted difference was the several train tracks we crossed over during our trip. In Niger, there are no trains, so that was definitely a change in Burkina. Also, I saw no camels during the trip.
Ouagadougou:
Arriving in Ouagadougou, I was surprised by the size of buildings, the bright lights, the neon signs, the heavy amount of human and motorized traffic, and the lack of animals in the roads. I don't think any of us realized just how low-key and underbuilt Niamey is until we came to Ouaga and saw how different an African capital city can be. The city had more mopeds then I've ever seen, making it very perilous to cross the street. The city was also teeming because of the film festival FESPACO. FESPACO is the largest and only pan-African film festival, that occurs once every two years in Ouaga. This meant there were lots of tourists in Ouaga and we ran into people from all over the States. I even met someone from Brookline. During FESPACO, there are films playing all day along with festivals with music, craft markets, and more. At one festival, I was interviewed by TVMONDE news and ended up being on West African television later in the week. During the four days in Ouaga, I saw films from Algeria, South Africa, the DRC, Cameroon, Guinea, and Ethiopia. Some of the movies weren't so good, but L'absence from Guinea and Teza from Ethiopia really made an impression on me and were incredibly well done and moving. It was very interesting to see the different viewpoints film-makers take from different parts of the world. One annoying part of being in Ouaga was the aggressiveness of vendors. Especially because of FESPACO, street vendors were teeming. In Niamey, people will try to sell you things, but with a smile and a few no thanks, they usually leave you alone. In Ouaga, vendors were much more pushy and would follow you around for long periods of time, shoving their merchandise in your face. The men were also more aggressive and several of us had our arms and shoulders grabbed, which hasn't happened once in Niamey. This made me really appreciate the respectful nature of Nigerien culture.
Bobo:
Bobo is another commercial hub in Burkina Faso. Here, we were spoiled by a stay in a really nice hotel, equipped with nice air-conditioned rooms and a huge pool. While in Bobo, we visited a cliff village that still follows strict animist traditions. I was impressed by the high french level of the kids in this village and overall in Burkina it seemed that the level of french was higher, especially in more rural areas, than it is in Niger, where outside of niamey hardly anyone knows the language. While, Bobo was interesting, it was my least favorite city of the trip. Some of this had to do with the fact that the vendors were even more aggressive than in Ouaga. Many of us got followed for hours by people trying to sell us things. I'm sure it is something I would get used to and learn how to deal with if I stayed in Burkina for a long time, but for now, I really just am glad that in Niger people only yell at you on the street, rather than follow you and shove their merchandise under your nose.
Banfora:
Banfora is a small city that had a completely different vibe from Ouaga and Bobo. It is smaller and more laid back. Banfora is very close the the Cote d'Ivoire border and it had a much more tropical feel. There was also a lot more reggae influence with lots of rastas, who are present throughout Africa, showing what an influence Jamaica has had. While in Banfora, we were able to do lots of outdoorsy activities leading to some funny/scary animal encounters. The first day, we went on little canoes to see hippos. Since we never saw them close up in the Niger River, I wasn't expecting to see them in Banfora. However, suddenly we were about 30 feet away from a family of five hippos, babies included. In our little canoe, that was probably a third the size of a hippo, I didn't feel to secure. The statistic that hippos kill more people in Africa than any other animal kept playing through my head. However, our guide ensured us that they were "nice hippos." Another person informed me that "the day the hippos don't want us to enter the water, they will come out of the water, block our entry, and tell us no...until then there is no problem with the hippos." For some reason, this logic didn't really make me feel any better. Another day, we visited a crocodile lake where crocodiles, that we again were reassured were "nice crocodiles", were lured out the water with dead chickens for us to pet. The crocodile's head was distracted with a chicken as we pet its tail and another guide warded off the other crocodiles with a little twig. Somehow, we managed to get through both encounters without trouble, so maybe the burkinabes were right and they really were just "nice" hippos and crocodiles. The best day in Banfora consisted of climbing these massive rock formations and then swimming in cascades that reminded me a lot of Ithaca's gorges. The landscape around Banfora was just so green and lush that it was hard to believe that we were still technically in a Sahelian country.
Overall, the trip was great. Arriving back in Niamey, I just felt so calm and it made me realized how comfortable I've become here. I'm glad to be back to Niger where I can greet in local languages and where the only people who really ever follow me around are children. After a vacation living in air-conditioning, going back to the beginning of the hot season without it seems a little more daunting, but I also realized that your body adjusts a lot more to the heat when you don't live in air-conditioning. It's the shock of temperature change that is really unbearable. I hope everyone is doing well!
Etakas

meeting nigerien women

2009-02-24T10:09:00.000-08:00

In the past month, I have met many nigeriens. While there are handfuls of men who would love to chat with all of us all day, the challenge still remains in getting to know nigerien women. When I walk out in the street, most of my fellow pedestrians are men. When I go to the musee, every single artisan is a man. When I go out to bars, the only nigerien women out seem to be prostitutes. This is a result of a culture and religion that place different expectations on women than ours does at home. In my age group (let's say 19-25), most of the nigerien women I meet are married and have at least one child. They spend most of their time at home, caring for both the family and their husband. For the women who have resisted cultural pressures to get hitched, living alone is out of the question. All single women, even those who are in their 30s, live at home with their parents. I've been told that those who live alone are assumed to be prostitutes. This makes it difficult to find women my age to just hang out with. If I was taking care of a family right now, I certainly would have different priorities.
From an early age, girls in Niger are caretakers. Throughout the city, there are girls from about 7 years old and up, carrying their baby brothers and sisters on their backs. Sometimes it seems almost every women I see has a little child attached to them. At first, it's hard to even notice and you just see that a women has a large colorful shawl covering her head and back, but then she turns to the side and you see the little pudgy feet sticking out and realize she's carrying that tray of mangos on her head with a little baby wrapped tightly to her back. The women often isn't the child's mother, but a sister, grandmother, aunt, or friend. When the fertility rate is 8 kids to a women, and men seem to play virtually no role in child-rearing, there are plenty of kids to be held by each spare arm and back. Whenever I smile at a baby and show any interest, the child is promptly placed in my arms, without question or worry. Usually, the baby is naked, since most little kids here are allowed to run around nude as most little kids in the states would probably love to, and I always hope the kid doesn't have any urges while in my arms, then they usually begin to cry as their eyes widen when they notice my alien, white skin. The mom/grandma/aunt/sister/friend, laughs and takes her child back, but I'm always glad to have offered some welcome relief, even if just for a few minutes.
One way that I fortunately have been able to meet women and see their homes is through working with Rencontre et Action, the microfinance organization that I have a community placement with. They provide small loans to women who run small businesses. They're usually street vendors who sell juice, ice cream, water, fried bread, or millet. When I go with R&A to collect loans and register new women, I basically just get to hang out at their houses, attempt to chat in Hausa, play with babies, and have women laugh at me as I try to perform their household tasks like grinding millet (which made me incredibly thankful for our food processor at home). Today, at one home, I had a pretty typical conversation. Introductions were made, I said where I was from, and explained I was learning Hausa. Then, I was asked if I was married with children. Usually, within the first three minutes of any conversation with a Nigerien (taxi drivers, artisans, bartenders, vendors, professors, neighbors, strangers, men, or women) I am asked my marital status and about my children. This time, as usual, I responded that no, I was single without children. The women said Jam! (Zarma for Too bad!!) and then asked when I would get married and suggested that I do so here in Niger because my time was running short. I said I wasn't interested for 8 years (which had to be translated because my limited Hausa had run out at this point) and then the woman shook her head, acted like she was crippled, hunched over, and pointed to her teeth and then to the floor. Although I already understood from the visual, this was translated to me as meaning I would be too old in 8 years, my teeth would fall out, and no man would want me. I laughed, and made a motion of brushing my teeth and then gave the universal thumbs up sign. She seemed to understand and just laughed again, shaking her head, and told me to marry a nigerien.
There is a growing number of women in Niamey who refuse to feel the pressure of marriage and kids. I have met many of them and I'm trying to keep up those contacts. It's cool for me to have a nigerien feminist professor, Amina, who speaks out against polygamy, young marriages, and never-ending children, because those opinions are hard to come by here. One Tuareg women told me, "taking birth control is like eating your children". That phrase sums up well the strength of the stigma in Niger against having no, or few, children. As usual, cultural differences are fascinating and what would make me the norm here would lead my friends and family at home to be shocked and concerned.
As the temperature is steadily increasing, I am preparing to head to Burkina Faso tomorrow to see the film festival FESPACO. I had a great visit with mom and really got to show her a lot while she was here. I'll try to update from Burkina, but I'm not sure what the internet situation will be. I also might meet up with Leah who is coming up to see FESPACO from Ghana!
Hope all is well with everyone
Etakas

Mom is here!

2009-02-18T07:52:00.000-08:00

Mom and I with Salesue, the tailor, and the new clothes he made for us

Getting ready for the canoe ride with Barke

Mom and I on the Niger River

Mom met my artisan Mahamadou, where we proved that I actually have been learning how to make silver jewelry...

At the musee, in front of batiks

Mom in front of one of the tapestries, we ordered one to be made like this for over the fireplace in waterville

First night in the bush

2009-02-16T12:34:00.000-08:00

On Saturday we spent our first night out in the bush. We went to Park W, which is a wildlife reserve that borders Niger, Benin, and Burkina Faso. We didn't see a whole lot of wildlife, but managed to glimpse some monkeys, water buffalo, antelopes, and warthogs. We stayed at a campsite by the Niger river and since there was no electricity, the night sky was incredibly beautiful and full of bright stars. One of the best parts of camping out in the bush, away from the city, was that the temperature dropped low enough to leave me chilled and in need of a sweater.

The biggest adventure of our Park W weekend was the drive there and back. Driving in 100+ degree heat, without air conditioning, it is essential to have all windows wide open for maximum air circulation. However, because the drive was on a dirt road, open windows and high speeds led everyone in the car to be a shade darker from dirt at the end of the trip. The dirt/dust here is very orange and everyone exited the cars looking like they had gotten a cheap spray on tan. Throughout the drive, Yakawa and I were trying to find solutions to cool ourselves down. We both ended up just pouring water over our heads every 20 minutes, which burns when it first hits your skin since sitting in the sun leads it to be the temperature of tea, but then allows you to feel cooled by the breeze. The group's favorite consequence of driving (or sitting in general) through Niger's heat is what we have lovingly termed "swamp ass." This refers to the sweat puddle that grows underneath you over the course of a voyage. While this might be embarassing in the states, here it has become an accepted fact of life for us anasaras whose bodies are unaccostomed to constant hot weather.

Despite the heat, I loved our drive through the bush because of all the amazing views and sites. I can't get over the barren and isolated landscapes of Niger. The flat brushland goes on forever with scattered huts, livestock, people, and dry, cultivated fields that will in'challah (the common nigerien saying for with god's will) bring food once the rainy season hits. All along our drive we would see herders alone with their cattle, surrounded by empty space, on their way to somewhere, but how they navigate to get where they want to go, I can't imagine. One of my favorite sites, was seeing a group of about 20 camels just walking unguided near to where we were driving. Like these camels, many animals can just be seen traversing the brushland on their own. I have seen barely any fences in Niger, but some system must exist for herders to keep track of, and find, their animals. Throughout the drive, we would occasionally pass groups of kids, who screamed, waved, and yelled "anasara cadeau" (which translates to "white person; present"). No one in our group could figure out how the kids could so quickly tell that we were white as we barreled down the road in a cloud of dust. However, somehow they always knew before we passed as "anasara cadeau" was yelled everytime, without fail.

After only 24 hours in the bush, we went through a broken window, popped tire, engine trouble, and a runaway truck that went off the road into a bush. We were tired, dirty, sweaty, and sore from bouncing all day on dirt roads. In this first bush encounter, we all agreed, the bush came out on top. However, it was really fun, and I can't wait to see all the adventures that occur when we spend a full week in the bush in peace corps villages during the real hot season this april.

Tomorrow mom arrives at 430pm and I'm going with the program director sue to pick her up. I can't wait to see her and am excited to show her around and see how she views Niger.

Etakas

wearing nigerien clothes

2009-02-14T04:15:00.000-08:00

After being in Niger for almost a month, most of us have made the jump to wearing some nigerien clothing and trying just a little bit more to fit in. Buying nigerien clothing is one of the most fun activities in Niamey. You go to the grand marche and just let yourself get lost in its confusing maze of alleyways until you see the pagne (african fabric) that catches your eye. All throughout the market there is every possible pattern and color that you could imagine. After getting the pagnes you want, you can either wrap the fabric around you like many women do here or bring it to the tailor and design a full outfit. Getting a full outfit tailor made costs about 8 dollars. Most of the girls in the program have now gotten dresses and skirts made and the boys are in the process of getting bubus made along with learning the skill of wrapping turbans.
Wearing nigerien clothing is fun, but it is far from helping me fit in here. To start, every time I wrap a pagne around myself, I am stopped by a women who undoes my awkward wrapping job and fixes me in public. I'm getting better at wrapping, but my method seems to still scream "wrapped by an anasara". The second problem I'm finding with wearing nigerien skirts is the lack of leg mobility. At home, I seldom wear skirts below my knee, but here, everything is down to my ankles as showing your knees in public is incredibly scandalous and viewed like inappropriate cleavage at home. The first day I wore my new skirt out, I couldn't keep up walking with my american friends because the skirt constricted my lower leg motion. As they dashed out across the street in between cars, I almost didn't make it because the skirt didn't allow me to run quite as quickly as I expected. I now understand why nigerien women seem to walk at a very slow pace. It's physically impossible in these skirts to bustle along like I do at home.
The most challenging moment I had in my tightly wrapped pagne, was at the niger-chad soccer game. For whatever reason, there were only 2 doors from the outside into the stadium. In order to get to where the crowd was, you had to jump about 4 fence-like barriers. Getting to our seats was easier because I could take the time to awkwardly climb over the fence. However, when the game ended and hundreds of nigerien and chadian soccer fans were making a move to leave the stadium, things were more difficult. The first fence was about as high as my chest and everyone around me seemed to jump easily pop over it. However, with my poorly tied pagne, lack of leg motion, flimsy sandals, general lack of flexibility or agility, and the knowledge that everyone was staring at me, since the 9 from our group who went were the only white people in the entire stadium, I faltered. Somehow I got over the fence without flashing anyone, without dropping my purse, and without ripping my skirt. However, I did cut my hand on one of the fence's spikes, which I failed to notice due to the fact that my full concentration was on how to move in my new, nigerien skirt. Thankfully, I got a tetanus booster before I left.
So at the end of the day, wearing nigerien clothing is fun, but I'm still just the awkward anasara that will never really blend in. It's okay though, because I just assume that people are laughing with me and not at me.
Today, we're going to Parc W for the night to see some wildlife and ride on the top of 4 wheel drive cars. Also, my roommate, Hamudsha, got malaria, but she's fine. She's the first and probably won't be the last, but we're all trying to be as careful as possible and, don't worry mom, i've been vigilantly taking my malaria pills and covering myself in deet everyday. hope everyone is healthy in the states and abroad!
Etakas

Week 2 Pictures

2009-02-10T12:15:00.000-08:00

at the livestock market in baleyara with some tuareg men and their camels

betoje, inazadan, and inewa looking for a nice spot to pee in the landscape outside niamey

this is what happens after you have braids in your hair for five days

getting some African braids from Binta

Baleyara

2009-02-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

Today we left Niamey for the first time since our arrival. Once outside the city’s boundaries, you can truly enjoy Niger’s beauty and emptiness. The trash disappears, traditional thatched homes replace larger modern buildings, and more camels, goats, and donkeys can be seen than cars. All around you, as far as you can see, is flat brushland and the only visible road is the one you’re on.
After 2 hours of pothole jerking driving, with a little off-roading, we arrived at Baleyara. Baleyara is a huge Sunday market, with the largest livestock market in the country. People come from hours away to buy and sell goods. People arrive in camel caravans, on donkey carts, in bush taxis, by foot, and in huge trucks with massive crates of live chickens on top. In Baleyara, you could really see Niger’s ethnic diversity. There were Tuaregs in turbans, Fulani women with headscarves, hausa men with facial scarring, and people of all ethnic groups sporting eminem and tupac t-shirts, American style sunglasses, and flip-flops.
In Baleyara, we were even more of a rare commodity than in Niamey. As usual, anasara was yelled at us from every corner but when we responded with hausa and Zarma greetings, the surprise and smiles were even greater than in Niamey. As we walked around the market, an entourage of children slowly developed behind us. Everytime I turned around a new kid was there and by the end of the day, there were about 15 following us.
The high volume of animals in the market presented a new set of dangers. Since reins don’t seem to exist here, trotting donkeys are only controlled by a stick that the rider tries to use to direct it. On several occasions, my Nigerien guide Hassan had to pull me out of the way of a rogue donkey cart that was a little too big for the narrow market walkways.
By far, the coolest part of the Baleyara market was the livestock section. There were hundreds of goats, sheep, cows, horses, chickens, and camels. At first, we were so fascinated with the animals that we sort of forgot they were real, but I was brought back to reality when a fulani man grabbed me to prevent me from getting too close to a bull that was about to kick. On the other side of me another bull started bucking and I jumped back a couple feet which led all the merchants to start laughing. By the time all this happened, we were deep in the livestock market and were surrounded by cows and bulls(who here have massive horns) so I gingerly made my way out avoiding camel and bull butts along with the many mounds of animal poop that were scattered all around.
At the end of the day, we were tired, dirty, and smelled of a wide array of things (goat meat, spices, camels, and many that were unknown).
It was a good day and tomorrow we start our second week of classes. The temperature is still rising (it was 106 today) but in the dry weather it's not unbearable yet. I still have not felt sick and as a result have gotten more adventurous with street food, which may turn out to be a bad idea, but so far, so good. I hope everyone in the states is enjoying the winter!
Etakas

Walking in Niamey

2009-02-04T06:39:00.000-08:00

Now that orientation is over, there is no longer a van to take us from destination to destination and we are on our own to navigate the streets of Niamey. There is no longer the protective shell of the van separating us from Niger. In the past couple days, I've done several things without help: hailed a taxi to and from the grand marche, haggled down the price of a scarf, went on my own to buy phone credit, crossed a busy street without getting hit by a bike or car, and walked in the dusty, heat to and from the musee. These all sound like simple tasks, but here they were quite an accomplishment.
Walking around Niamey, I feel less like a viewer and more like a part of the city. People still stare and yell anasara, but now I can stop and greet people, rather than just drive on by. Saying simple greetings like "Fofo", "Ina Kwana", and "Mate ni go" in hausa and zarma immediately brings smiles and then a string of quick responses that I never understand. When in doubt about what to say, I always just say "Ay ga ba Obama", which means I like Obama in zarma, and without fail most people within earshot will smile and yell "Oui, Obama, Obama." I think Obama is even more loved here than the United States. His picture is all over the place and even the artisans at the musee have his poster at their work stations.
While walking around Niamey is more exciting than being driven in our anasara filled bus, it is also a lot more challenging and draining. The heat means that what would be an easy walk back home becomes an exhausting expedition that leaves you covered in sweat. It makes sense that the pace of life moves more slowly here, because it seems almost physically impossible to bustle through life at the fast rate we do at home.
Walking through Niamey, Niger's poverty is also a lot more in your face. One of the most visible signs is the large amounts of trash that are scattered throughout the city. Niger has virtually no system of trash collection, so trash is dumped in the streets, pushed into piles, and burned. Walking also exposes you more to beggars. Although the beggars in Niger aren't very aggressive, turning away from the outstretched hand of a child you know needs food is painful and it is something I don't think I'll every feel comfortable with.
So far, each independent walk in Niamey has been an emotional rollercoaster. After each second of feeling sad or frustrated by one thing, there will be a new thing that will make me smile or laugh, whether it's successfully using my hausa, getting a wave and smile from under the head-wrap of a tuareg man riding a camel, realizing I actually recognize and know some of the street vendors, or having a little boy come up to me and hold my hand as I'm walking while his mother watches and laughs. At the end of the day, sweaty, hot, and exhausted, I'm always genuinely happy and there's nowhere else i'd rather be, even if it offered air-conditioning.
more pictures to come soon, when i have the patience
etakas

Braids and Henna

2009-02-01T11:17:00.000-08:00

Today was a perfect day in Niger. We had our “lunches in Nigerien homes” and Lawali and I went to Binta’s (who helps maintain the CFCA) home. She lives in one of the poorer outskirts of Niamey, where the pavement ends. We had to ride there in a bush taxi, which basically consists of a minivan stuffed to the brim with people. It reached 105 degrees today, so I luckily got a spot squished against the window. The ride was short and we arrived at Binta’s community. Binta lives in a one room house with a small, grass/reed fence enclosure. She migrated from Mali and up until a year ago lived in a squatting community closer to the CFCA. However, the government has been destroying “illegal” squatter communities and Binta was forced to leave. Now she’s starting over in the new community we visited.

I came to Niger expecting to not like the food and to be hungry a lot of the time. The opposite is true. Even though Binta has no stove, she managed to cook an amazing meal with rice and Senegalese meatballs (which I’m now eating since my vegetarianism has ended in niger as all meat here is “free range”). Lawali and I were stuffed, but Binta laughed at our weak eating and even told Lawali that he ate like a girl.

After lunch, Binta brought out some rubber bands and I quickly realized she was planning to braid my hair. Coming to Niger, I had decided not to have my hair braided. Mainly because I just cut off nine inches and figured shorter hair would look pretty weird in full braids. However, I couldn’t really say no to the women who had just welcomed me into her home and fed me. Additionally, living in Niger is no time to be vain. Halfway through the head-wrenching process of having my fine, slippery hair forced into tight African braids, another girl from the village came to do my traditional henna. So, I was outside with my hair in Binta’s lap, my hand on one girl’s lap, and my feet stretched out on blocks so they didn’t touch the ground and ruin the henna design. I was immobile and had children surrounding me, staring, and laughing. I guess Nigeriens don’t really have arm hair, because a couple little girls seemed incredibly fascinated with mine and played with it through the whole Nigerien spa process. Three hours later, I was fully braided and covered in beautiful henna. My hair looks a little like snoop dog, but it could be worse. It’s also nice to have it completely off my neck in the heat. Additionally, I provided the other Americans in my program with some entertainment when I showed up after “lunch” with my entire head covered in unflattering braids. Anyways, I now feel like I have a Nigerien mom here and Lawali and I are definitely going to try and go back to Binta’s to hang out with her family and the kids in her community.

Today was the last day of orientation and tomorrow we start classes, community placements, and in general our own lives here. I'm getting a cell phone so that I won't have to continually rely on our RA to contact people. I'm taking 4 classes: intro hausa, a french class on nigerien culture and society, a performing arts class focused on drumming and dancing, and a community placement. As of now my community placement will have 3 parts: working on silver jewlery with an artisan at the musee, helping an orphanage with its feeding stations throughout niamey, and helping a small microfinance institution recruit new women and keep up with current members.

I hope classes are going well for everyone at home

Etakas

Officially hot

2009-01-30T08:17:00.000-08:00

So I am officially hot. When we arrived in Niamey and everyone around me said it was a cold period, I thought they meant that we were in the cold season. However, what they really meant was that we were in a week-long cold snap of beautiful, comfortable, 80 degree weather. Now the “cold snap” has ended and it’s the normal “cold” season high of 98 degrees. It’s fine in the shade since there is no humidity in Niger. However, I have yet to see a cloud here, so shade is a rare commodity offered only by the scattered tree along the road. The heat we are experiencing now is manageable; the terrifying fact is that in about one month it will be getting up to 20 degrees hotter at the peak of the day. I never go long without being reminded of this pending doom as every Nigerien I speak to, from a taxi cab driver to my professors, asks me if I’m hot now, to which I respond yes, and to which they then chuckle a little and go but this isn’t the hot season; the hot season is hot, so so hot. At this point I’m just really curious and I have this weird macho attitude where I want to feel the hottest of hot just to prove I can handle it, rather than being reminded everyday that soon I will be experiencing the hottest weather of my life. Soon enough, I’ll understand what all the fuss is about and sadly I’m pretty sure people are not over-exaggerating about this one.

Today we went to the American embassy. The embassy is massive and full guarded. To get in, you must present a passport to two sets of guards, go through metal detectors, and get your bags searched. Once inside, we met the ambassador, head of security, and head of the marines. It was very interesting to see all the different government career paths that led people to Niger. Although everyone was very nice, one woman stated that next time she hoped to be stationed in a “nice European country with some fast food”. Since all of our group opted out of studying in Europe and chose to come to Niger, where we hoped to find no fast food chains (and up till now thankfully haven’t seen any), we couldn’t really relate to her on that point.

The embassy world is a little American bubble. They told us about all these activities that the Americans in Niamey have like club nights, games nights, barbeques, etc and one of the marine wives was very non-discreetly trying to set us up with single marines who she said were excited to see “new faces”. Then we ate burgers, fries, pizza, and milkshakes at the rec center where you can get all “American cuisine”. If I’m ever missing greasy American food, I can go there to get my fix. Although I’m not planning on spending my time in Niger at American functions, it will be interesting to go to some of the events just to see the American “expat” world of Niger. The rec center also has a swimming pool, so that will be useful in the hot season.

After gorging ourselves in the traditional American style, we had to walk out in the heat and squish into sweaty taxis. I think all of us now regret finishing off the plate of fries.

Everyone is now lying around in a food coma and we are waiting for some peace corps volunteers to come have dinner with us. They will give us yet another perspective on living and working in Niger.

Officially hot and terrified for the “real hot” (but still not sick!)

Etakas

Some pictures from week one

2009-01-28T09:06:00.001-08:00

Here's a truck that's packed to the brim and probably getting ready to head out into the sahara. this was taken from within Niamey. You can see that there are lots of tuareg or fulani men (with the wrapped heads) sitting on top.

This is the view from right outside niamey taken on a hike we did

this is from our dusk canoe ride on the niger river.

This is what happens when unskilled americans try to ride camels. here the camel is getting down to let us get off.

This is a view from Barke's roof of the camel that we got to ride. Although it looks empty, this is only about ten minutes by car from the center of Niamey

where loving dogs is weird...

2009-01-27T05:26:00.000-08:00

Cultural differences are always interesting. One that is particularly amusing here is the difference in how animals are viewed. Saraki has a dog, Weylallo, who lives with us at the CFCA. She is adorable and basically all of the students love her. She is treated with love and attention like many dogs in the states. Here, dogs, and animals in general, are not viewed as cute and cuddly. All the Nigeriens think we’re crazy and weird to treat a dog like a kid. Since there are so many stray dogs, they become more like pests; going through garbage and bothering people. I guess having a pet dog for many Nigeriens would be like us imagining someone loving, sleeping with, and naming a New York Ciy sewer rat.

In general, Niger would not be an animal lover’s paradise. You have to kind of get over any deep empathy for animals and understand that here, camels, goats, sheep, donkeys, etc are being used for a purpose; either transport or food. Most Nigeriens have better things to think about then whether that baby goat looks at you with adorable, innocent eyes. Live chickens are tied together by their feet and hung from motorcycles by their buyers and I wince each time I see someone hit their donkey or camel. However, it is nice to see pack animals being used for a real purpose like transport, rather than just for our amusement and pleasure. Before here, I’d only seen camels in zoos, but even in Niger’s capital city, camels are everywhere carrying goods into and around Niamey from the Sahel and Sahara.

Today we saw lots of transport camels when we crossed the Kennedy Bridge, which is the only bridge in Niger that crosses the Niger River and also a bridge that was financed by the United States, hence the name Kennedy. Most of the city lies on our side of the river, but the national university and some other areas are across. We met with the university president, who was very welcoming and gave us the option of using their library and sitting in on any classes we want. Then, we climbed some little hills/plateaus that jut up away from the river. Climbing only a little ways really gave a sense of how flat the country is. Additionally, you could see Niamey in the distance, the tallest building in the country (at 12 stories) was visible. There was some green right along the river and besides a few Niamey buildings, there was just a never-ending expanse of dusty, flat land with scattered brush and trees. The view was breath-taking and really showed how empty the country is. There are a diminishing number of places in the world that don’t feel over-run with human growth, but Niger is definitely one of them.

Tonight, we are going to have a dinner with our professors. Considering the largest possible class size is 14, there will be a very different student-teacher relationship than at Cornell. I’ll try to get pictures up soon, but I’ve been having trouble. The internet works well for word documents but uploading pictures is really, really slow. Still, I’ll try, even though neither pictures nor words can truly depict this place or give it justice.

Etakas

Camels, canoes, markets, and eating with your hands

2009-01-25T10:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we went to Barkes house. Barkes was a BU Niger program student for 3 semesters in the late 90s. He came back to live here, bought a piece of land on the Niger river, and built a giant mud brick house, powered by solar panels. He speaks fluent Zarma and is completely integrated into his community along with helping out a lot of local kids. His home is incredible and you can climb up on the roof and overlook the Niger river. Although his house is in the city of Niamey, its slightly off a main road and feels like youre in a small village hundreds of miles away. That’s what is so amazing about Niamey; it is so calm and it is so easy to get away from noise and crowds. I don’t quite know how to describe it, but I’d say that Niger is the most soothing country that I’ve ever been to. Barkes arranged for us to ride a camel around his property, which was pretty fun and we basically just chilled with his neighbors, drinking traditional tuareg tea. The most amazing and inspiring man that we met there was a blind sheperd who herds his sheep by barkes house everyday and climbs trees with a machete to gather leaves for his sheep. The sheep just follow him like puppies. The ability that people have to persevere never ceases to amaze me.

After tea time and camel rides, Barkes arranged for us to ride canoes on the Niger river. We ended up watching the sunset while out on the water. The boats were VERY close to the water and one us was assigned the task of using a bucket to dump out water that was coming into the canoes through holes so we wouldn’t sink. We saw a hippo from far away and as cool as it was, I was glad to not have a closer look, considering a hippo could have knocked us over with its breath. After the sun set there was this crazy mist over the river that touched the water so that you couldn’t see where the water began; it just looked like a wall of fog. As we rowed into it, I felt like I was in some movie scene, entering the underworld or some other dimension.

One of my favorite things about Niger is that there are hardly any tourists. In other countries, things like camel rides and canoe trips are targeted at tourists for pre-packaged “traditional” experiences. Our camel ride was from a guy who had just come in from outside Niamey with reed sheets (used for fences and houses), carried on his camel’s back, that he was selling in Niamey. Barkes bought some and then asked the guy if he could be paid to give some rides. The man was probably wondering why these crazy anasaras (white people) wanted to pay money to ride his camel around. After we were done, he got some extra cash, and left on his way into Niamey with his goods on the camel’s back. The canoe ride was given by some fishermen that Barkes also knew. It just feels so much less artificial here than when I’ve done “touristy” things in some other places. It’s nice.

Today, we paired up with Nigeriens our age to get a walking tour of Niamey’s markets. Markets are a place of sensual overload. They are narrow, confusing, winding, and full of new smells, noises, and people hitting you from every direction. I bought some beautiful fabric that I’ll bring to the tailor soon to have a dress made. What amazes me about markets is the diversity of stuff that’s available. In the states, we think of Niger as being in the farthest corner of the world. Yet, in the market there were Obama shirts, lacoste shoes, converses, usher shirts, etc. At one point we ended up in the meat section of the market. Although I’m no longer practicing strict vegetarianism, and in theory animal meat doesn’t bother me, being surrounded on all four sides by intestines, goat legs, and hunks of meat with the hairy tail still hanging off it, was a little more than I could handle at this point. Apparently my face gave it away because Jacoa (our Nigerien guide) took one look at me, laughed, and waved me in a different direction, safely out of the meat section.

Later we ate our first traditional meal at Sue, our director’s house. It was very good, but I think we all burnt our hands in the rice (since Nigeriens traditionally eat using their right hand, without silverware). It was tricky to eat gracefully without a fork but we succeeded and the communal bowl was emptied by the end.

Right now I’m writing outside (on the alphasmart that mom so wisely gave me to bring). The sun is setting and I can hear muslim prayers in the distance. I should probably go inside because the mosquitos are starting to swarm around me and I haven’t put on my deet yet.

I hope all is well back home and abroad (for my friends who are studying all over the world)

Not sick or hot yet,

Etakas

Ay ma Etakas

2009-01-24T05:25:00.000-08:00

Ay ma Etakas

My new Nigerien name is Etakas. It is from the Tuareg tribe, which consists of the traditional nomadic people that live in the sahara desert of Niger. Etakas means the bush- not bush like a shrub, but bush as in the wilderness of Niger and Africa. Our bapteme/naming ceremony was very fun. There were drumming groups, singers, and dancers. Lots of people showed up and even the head of the national hospital and the head of the the American embassy were there. The oldest tuareg dance troupe in niamey, one that was passed down to the leader by their grandparent, performed and at the end all of us students were forced to dance on stage with them in front of everyone. As usual, my awkward American body could not quite feel the beat and I looked like a fool, but everyone laughed and loved it, so it was great.

After the bapteme we went out to a bar to meet our RA saraki’s friends. The bar, as I believe most bars and things in general are here, was outside and on sand/dirt. You never really forget for long that you’re in the desert here, because aside from a few paved roads, red sand is constantly under your feet. I’m starting to build up the red layer of caked sand on my feet that can be seen on those who’ve been here for awhile. By the end of the semester, I’m sure they will look quite impressive. Anyways, the bar was fun and I got to practice french with Saraki’s nigerien and french friends. The bar provided us all with our first latrine experience in Niger. The latrines here are like turkish toilets, for those of you reading who’ve traveled in Europe, but they don’t flush. Latrines always make me wish for a moment that I was a man and that I could just go wherever I please. It’s convenient for the boys on our program, because, as our director informed us, in niger men can pee where they please and apparently it’s the responsibility of the viewer not to look, rather than the doer not to relieve themselves in public. But, we survived, and I’m sure will become very skilled at the whole latrine thing. The most shocking thing about being out at night at the bar was that I was actually chilly and had some goosebumps, something I never expected here. It’s the colder season now, but it’s till 80s and 90s, but its dry so it feels great. However, many nigeriens walk around with huge coats and hats, which is funny for us coming from the northeaster winter. I’m enjoying this weather now, because in a month I will essentially be living in an oven.

Today, we went to the national museum where students can do their community placements with artisans. I think the musee will be one of my favorite places in Niamey. It has zoo animals, museums, and tons of artisans working on everything from silver, to weaving, to wood carving, and all right there in front of you. The stuff is beautiful, and it’s authentic, not just corny, touristy “african” art. The artisans are all very friendly and will explain to you just what they’re doing. One silver jewelry artisan was tuareg and showed me how to write my nigerien name with tuareg symbols, so I think I might get that carved by him into some sort of silver necklace. I’m sure I’ll be bringing back lots of art, jewelry, etc to the states- maybe presents for some of you…especially if you write me a letter...

Right now is our post lunch siesta and later today we’re going to a former BU students house on the Niger river and taking canoe rides, my fingers are crossed to see a hippo! At night we're going to a concert with nigerien and senegalese musicians and apparently some good afro-reggae music.

I hope everyone is doing well!

To, kala tonton

Etakas

We made it to Niamey

2009-01-23T00:32:00.000-08:00

Getting to Niger takes a looong time. When you get to Paris and realize you still have a four hour layover followed by a 5 ½ hour flight until your destination, traveling loses any of its fun. On the plus side, the 24 hours of travel really gave our group of fourteen a chance to bond before our arrival. Secondly, on that second flight, the route takes you over the sahara and flying over that endless desert is a breath-taking experience. For about four hours of the flight when I looked out the window, there were hardly any clouds and I could see straight down to never-ending sand dunes with no signs of civilization. When we began our final descent into Niamey, it was like landing in a rain or snowstorm, when you can’t see the ground until the very end, but instead of snow or rain, it was dust that obscured the view. When we got below the dust and were 20 seconds from landing, that was when it is me where I was going. We flew over scattered huts, the Niger River, a couple roads, and then we landed. The only other plane on the runway was some massive US military plane, showing again how US presence is everywhere. Mom- on the flight to Niamey- get a window seat, it’s not to be missed.

Sue, our director, and Saraki, on of the RAs, met us at the airport. By some miracle every single piece of luggage for every student arrived. This, apparently, almost never happens on the first try. The airport scene wasn’t overwhelming and there weren’t huge crowds outside the way I’ve heard my dad describe at some African airports. I got to sit in the front seat of the van for our drive to the CFCA (where we are living). Immediately, the familiar smell of burning (garbage, wood, food) reminded me of Botswana and Nicaragua. The road was shared with cars, buses, pedestrians, bicycles, and goats, but just like the airport scene, it didn’t seem overly crowded or bursting at the seams, which was, and will be, very nice.

The CFCA is actually nicer than I expected. I am sharing a double room with a girl Sarah from Chicago and we share a bathroom with 2 other girls. We have a dog, a hammock, and a bakery with french bread for the morning, so I really couldn't ask for more. Today we are going to the bank to change money and getting a tour of the city. Tonight is our naming ceremony so I will be given a Nigerien name at a celebration with 250 invited guests. This will be my last post with my American name, after tonight they say we are officially baptized as nigeriens.

More to come and maybe some pictures

Safe, healthy, and happy from Niger

Emily

3 days till departure!

2009-01-18T10:13:00.000-08:00

So in 3 days I'll be boarding a plane and heading off to Niger for 4 months. I figured since it's now the final countdown to my departure, I should put up the first post to my blog. I've been planning to study abroad on Boston University's Niamey program for almost a year and the past semester has been full of anticipation and exciting discussions with friends and family over the experience that awaits me. On many occasions I've given my reasons for choosing Niger and most of you reading have probably already heard them all.
1. Since my experience in Botswana 4 years ago, I have wanted to go back to Africa. Niger is in Africa
2. I wanted to go to a french speaking country, because I want to improve my french skills. Niger is a french speaking country.
3. I study international development at school and wanted a hands on experience living in a developing country to enrich my understanding. Niger is on the United Nations LDC (least-developed countries) list.
4. My mom works for BU, so I wanted to go on a BU program for the financial benefits. The Niger program is run by BU.
Those four main reasons framed my initial decision to go to Niger and since last March when I applied, I have grown increasingly more excited for this specific program. Every single alumni that I have spoken to has been incredibly enthusiastic about their experience. Everyone said it changed their life and everyone said that it was unexplainable unless you go yourself. Many of the alumni have gone back to work and live in Niger and quite a few have even married people they met during their time in Niger (a statistic that scares my parents). This semester, I met a Nigerien grad student, Mamadou, who upon learning that I was going to Niger, instantly helped me prepare and has already introduced me to his family and friends in Niger. Basically, everyone I have met who is connected to the BU program or just Niger in general has been excited, friendly, and helpful and each has made me more confident that I made the right decision in signing up to study in Niger.

At this point, I'm pretty much packed and I've bought almost everything I need. About 50% of my luggage is pharmaceuticals with things like shampoo, tylenol, soap, etc. I feel like I'm bringing a pharmacy with me. I have band-aids, disinfectant, cold medicine, and a different medicine for every level of diarrhea (from that caused by a mild stomachache to a medicine with the instructions to use only in "severe" cases- I'm not really sure what constitutes a severe case, I can only hope that I never meet the criteria). Another large portion of my luggage is given to books since I have a goal to read for pleasure again (a novel concept to many of us at school- except for you, Kate :) ). I'm hardly bringing any clothes since I've been advised to buy most of my clothes once I'm there where they can be hand-made by a tailor and be more "culturally appropriate". The clothes I am bringing don't take up much room since the temperature will regularly be in the high 90s.

In case it wasn't obvious, I can't wait to go. I'm waiting for the moment where I panic, but with 3 days left, it still hasn't happened. I think it still just hasn't sunk in that I'm actually leaving. I have a feeling I won't really believe that I'm going until I get to the airport and set foot on that plane. Of course I'm nervous for some things, mainly the incredibly hot weather and the high probability that I will get violently ill at some point during the semester, but other than that I am just sooooo excited. I think what I'm most looking forward to is the opportunity to just be allowed to absorb. It is an amazing opportunity to be given four months where the largest expectation and request imposed on me is to be open minded to a new country, culture, society, etc. I'm hoping to just give in to the experience and see where it takes me.

So, those are my thoughts right before I leave. I'll try to update this blog as regularly as possible, but I'm not sure what the internet situation will be like. I will also try to post pictures, because I know that those make things much more interesting. Hopefully I'll have lots of funny and interesting stories to share. For anyone who wants to send me emails, I'd love to hear from you. My email is ecgoldsmith@gmail.com
If you feel like sending a letter that may or may not arrive before I come home, then please do. I'm sure it would feel pretty cool to get a letter from home once I'm over there. The address is:
Emily Goldsmith
BP 10652
Niamey, Niger
West Africa

If you write me, I promise I'll send you back a cool postcard with exotic stamps

Keep in touch!