Thanksgiving Fashion Show...Lost Footage

Just found these pics, photo credits to Eric Camball, from waaay back at the Thanksgiving Day fashion show. I miss my Niger stage.

Reprise

YouTube - Niger: Beauty in the Toughest of Places

Niger banda

Thanks to the feedback of several readers, I've decided to keep some kind of blog on my Peace Corps Senegal experience: http://salamsenegal.blogspot.com/

I'm still on an Arabic kick...which will make no sense in a year.

Blog (again) an aesthetic disaster, but I will work on this...

Point of Information

Disconnected from American media (which I never pay any mind anyway), I heard a rumor that the press said Americans were being targeted in Niger. From our experiences IN Niger, this does not seem to be the case. Of the several incidents over the last year or so, both French nationals (kidnapped and some killed) and American embassy personnel (came under fire only) and U.S. embassy people, FR people working with the mines up north, a FR aid worker, and maybe some FR tourists made up these groups, but our understanding was that any European or American had a bounty on their head, but FR or other embassy people viewed as very wealthy and likely to pay a ransom were targeted more than Americans. There were no incidents involving PCV's.  A disturbing aspect of the latest incident which precipitated our evacuation was that it was possible the terrorists simply grabbed two white people. Given that many people think we are French sometimes, this was disconcerting. But with the info I have, it seems wrong to say Americans were being targeted.

Manti wiza (NOT much to my surprise...probably not grammatically correct), the media cannot be trusted to deliver correct information. I don't want to be spending my time spreading rumors, so I want to stop before any more speculation, but I wanted to clarify this poss faux pas.

Epilogue: Senegal Bound

What an unbelievable roller coaster last week, especially last days. Impossible to recount properly. Last afternoon at like 1630h, we got some options for ways we could quickly join a new program. I was unsure, thought I had a plan, then looked at an option I had overlooked around 2100h, and it blew my mind. It's funny after looking at a lot of stuff that you're luke warm about, and then you read something that seems so perfect...you know. It's as though they actually know what they're doing over there. Through the rumor mill, Senegal's health program has an excellent reputation. I finished reading the packet literally walking to the wine bar, and the decision was made to put my name in the hat for the health program in Senegal.

Today at 1600h, they posted a list of names. My name was on it. How this happened I have no idea. Friends with better qualifications than me were left of the list for Senegal or other countries to which they had applied. There will be 7-8 of us from Niger going to Senegal, five of us from my stage, including some of my closest friends. I am, right now, the only male and only CHA going from Niger. They will give us 4-5 weeks of some kind of training, and then we're in. Running of 4 hours of sleep, but totally jazzed up and overwhelmed. Literally bouncing up and down. Been not quite sure what to do with myself, first waiting to hear news if I got the assignment, and now excited and nervous for a new position so soon. Was this the right decision? I think so, and I really hope so. We will leave within the week. No vacation. No time home. I will miss all my friends from this stage terribly.

We're done two birthdays this week already. The deputy director of the Peace Corps called us to thank us, etc, etc., and she said they had heard about our rendition of "Don't Stop Believing" and so she and several other Peace Corps Washington staff played the song and sang it to us over the phone. We clapped twice expecting them to be done in an instramental or something...and then they would be still singing. My name is on the list, and our shenanigans have spread to the D.C. office. I am doing something right. I will be given a tremendous opportunity in a dynamite program to do some real legit work. Expectations will be high, and I will have to prove I am more than cheap tricks and shenanigans.

This closes out the Niger blog I think. I'm not sure how I will record the adventure in Senegal. I think I have been thinking too much, holding on too tight. We will see. Thanks to all for reading.

Peace Corps Suspends Program in Niger; All Volunteers Evacuated Safely

WASHINGTON, D.C., January 17, 2011 – Peace Corps has suspended its program in Niger due to ongoing concerns about volunteer security. All 98 volunteers are safe and accounted for and have been safely evacuated to another country. Volunteers will take part in a transition conference and if possible will be offered the option to complete their service in another Peace Corps country.

Peace Corps will continue to assess the safety and security climate in Niger. The safety and security of volunteers is the Peace Corps' highest priority.

"The Peace Corps has been committed to development in Niger for nearly five decades," said Peace Corps Director Aaron Williams. "We have excellent relationships with Nigerien people and communities and we are grateful for the strong partnership we have had with counterpart organizations and the Government of Niger."

Prior to the suspension, Peace Corps had operated in Niger without interruption since 1962. Over 3,000 Peace Corps volunteers have served in Niger since the program was established, working in the areas of Agriculture/Natural Resource Management, Health, Education and Municipal Community Development.

Evacuation

My apology/ explanation to my village on the 1/4-1/3 portion of the wall that I was able to chalk board.

We picked up my friend in his village, and a crowd of villagers led him to the car. The picture doesn't quite capture it. The villagers came up to the car and told another PCV in the car that they were not going to let us take him away.

This about sums it up.

le 14 janvier (evacuation recap)

Wednesday, le 12 janvier.

I am at the clinic. My phone rings once, a number not in my phone. I let it go.

It rings again. Same number. Looks like a PC number. I step out.

One of the FARM APCD's. He greets me. He says he's going to read me a text message from Peace Corps. He begins to read. When does it hit me? When do I get it? Peace Corps is leaving Niger. I squat to the ground in the clinic yard. Overwhelmed. I start to cry. Boys come to get water. They cannot see me cry. Am I listening? Yes, yes, I'm listening. I get up. Wander aways some. Squat again. We can't talk to other PCV's about it until when? When are we leaving? Don't tell people at home. Don't tell village all of what's going on. Tell them you're going to Niamey, that maybe you will come back. Do I have any questions? So, we can talk to people when?

Phone call ends. Do I go back to the clinic? I cannot. I am overwhelmed. I walk quickly to my concession. I am crying again I think. I call home. It's like 0500. Mom picks up. I can barely get it out. They're pulling everyone. I ask her to call me back. What is overwheleming? For me, it's all the effort. Now, starting from scratch again. Especially the language. I had been SO stressed and unsure about learning a languge. I had never done it before. It was a major flaw in my experiences and accomplisments. And I did it. Well it was going. And now to have to start over. And now is the hardest time. And we just have to endure it. Get through the first week, first two weeks, first month, first three months. Now we have the opportunity to go home. Do I want to go home? I had wished for it some in first week. But, no doubt that would be a terrible defeat. Now, the easy out option is given to us. It will take strength to choose against it. So much work to come.  I settle down. Talk to mom some. 

Walk back to clinic. Get a text from my friend. We parry a bit. I call him. We're on the same page. I talk to him. Several other friends. Don't know what to say. We don't know what to do. Don't know exactly what's going on.

I don't know what to do. Knowing I am leaving actually has my spirits in the moments lifted. Sure, let's help some boys carry some water to the school. I'll be gone in a day, I can do anything. Should I pack? Take pictures? Go back to clinic? Walk around town? I decide to make lunch, so that when I decide to do something, I will not be hungry. Don't need to worry about food. I make pasts with the laughing cow and some spices. Brilliant combination.

The little kid in the fam I share a concession with pokes his head in. I greet him excitedly. I am leaving in a day. He can poke his head in all he wants. I decide to walk along the gardens by the river to try to get some pics. Also of the ville. It is nice to just walk, with no agenda. My "agenda" for the day out of the window. I am glad to have my little friend with me. I want to impart some major lessons to him in these closing hours. I become increasingly uncomfortable about taking pictures. This is why I don't take them all the time. I'm not a tourist. This should be my home. But now I want to be able to show people. I am ashamed to take pics of people directly. I wait for them to pass, then snap a pic from the back. My expensive camera. My tourists' eye. People seem not to mind. But, as we approach the ville again, it creates, as expected, too much spectacle. People yelling, pulling at me. Take their picture. I missed someone. Someone didn't see. Enough enough. I don't need pics this bad. I'm leaving in a day, but can't handle satisfying people's curiosity about the camera. It's just a picture, calm down, sometimes a pitiful scene again, but if someone landed a space ship in my front yard I would rush to check it out. At the time when I feel my patience is most, my patience is tried to its limit anyway.

I snap some pics of the gardens where I worked. Some pics of the route over which we tracked rabbits. Over which I ran in the morning. I think pretty much to the picture, each one, as I take it, seems to fail to capture the moment I try to capture. The pic of the rogo we planted. You see the ground we tilled, the river. You do not feel the shade as contrast to the sun. You do not hear the birds. You do not feel the breeze. Nor appreciate how awesome all these are in the middle of a desert-ish environment. You cannot swivel and see the full panoama. You cannot hear the Zarma I spoke. You cannot see us working, the stereoptypical PC scene, testament to my ever so partial success. You cannot see the Nigeriens watching me, the annassara speaking Zarma and tilling the soil. You see the place, but you see nothing of the scene. The picture taking seems for naught mostly, but I had to satisfy to pull to snap SOMEthing.

I escape to my concession. I talk to another friend. I realize I need to pack. Need to be ready to go. What to bring, what to leave? want to bring a skeleton packs of stuff...but what if we go straight to another post? Hard to know what we'll need when we don't know what we're doing. I end up packing a fair amoutn, but leave a lot behind. All the essentials I feel. Literally had JUST felt settled some. Just FELT a PCV. Had just set this stuff up, now I rush to take it down, pack it up.

I walk around briefly. My patience is thin some on the walk around, which usually gives me strength. Hard to say the extra fofo, greet the extra person, pay close attention to understand, when I will be gone in a day. What does it matter? I bring my world map to the guy who lives by the bricks we mad who had asked the questions. We have a great conversation. I try to explain how the spin of the earth's axis gives places far north and far south sometimes all day and all night. This is very hard in Zarma for me. I draw a map of the solar system in the sand to show the different planets and how they revolve around the sun. The sun does not revolve around the earth. He is grateful for the map.  I feel good about leaving it for him. Should I have left it for the school? Help the greatest number? I want to reward a friend.

I am on my way back. Someone gets me. My contact wants to see my. Do I have my phone? No, it's charging in my house. Peace Corps called him. I jog home. Don't want to do any more greetings for 30 min. Just need to confirm with our APCD. Will get picked up tomorrow morning, not exactly sure when.

I tell my contact's wife to tell him to come over when he gets back. The doctor is not there. I tell his wife to tell him to come over. I will make dinner for them. And tell them.

My room was just done. Now it is empty again. I cook the sweet pasta with cheese with spices. My contact comes. We sit on the floor. It is fun to play host. We sit on the rug. He writes some stuff in Arabic on the chalkboard. His name. My name. He has to go pray. I thought the last prayer was past. I feel stupid. It takes him a long time to come back. I worry he has forgotten. I am not looking forward to this convo, maybe the most important convo of my Zarma career. He finally comes. We sit on my rug and eat. It's pretty cool. I'm sitting eating dinner with a Nigerien, having legit conversation in Zarma. Four months ago I was bugging out about FR. He asks about the phone call. I try to explain what's going on. I hope he gets it. I tell him to give the seeds to the farmers and the other stuff to people. I give him a pair of shoes. He looks at some other stuff. He seems real pumped about the pair of shoes. That feels good.

It's funny, as a friend and I discussed, that for our stage, we did exactly what Peace corps does NOT do. We were there for a short period of time, and just gave out a bunch of stuff. When PC returns to Niger, these village that knew PC for a week only will have a skewed experienced. We all left tons of stuff. I, and others too, even left various amounts of cash in various pockets.

Pocket notes from this day:
"got phone call. in clinic. leet it go. same #. picked it up. Sangrey. Said he wanted to read us a message...when did I know we were all coming out? squatted in lokotoro kwaara. started to cry. he asked if I was there. kids greeting me. can't cry. you serious? so hard. do it again. option to wuss out? we're done...but we haven't done anything yet. easy way out. so hard, past week. even wanted to be pulled out sometimes. that cup would pass me by. but have to get through it. overwhelmed. didn't know where to go or what to do. went to concession. called home crying. mom there. I'm coming home? or am I? haven't earned it yet. off phone. back to clinic. distracted by boy carrying water. now everything fun that cup will pass. like when race over, even bad race, it's done. feel guilty to have that GOOD feeling. pain over, for now. what to do? pics? pack? am I to show up home without the $2000 I spent on stuff for the trip? embarrassing but not my call. not an Early Termination. can visit Drew and Cait? would be fun. or even my vaca to east Africa! with cash in lieu. time to go home? time that I wanetd? I should have insisght from this...what to do know? what do I WANT to do? I dunno. want vaca. to relax. with friends and family. collect. figure stuff out. wish had blogs from last 3 days. village is nice. could I stay like Drew and I joked about? want someone to know I had a MASTERFUL first week. wish I could get some affirmation on that at least"

"wish blog was caught up. should I take time to recap? want to be with stage"

"hoping to figure stuff out. now more doubt that not. more questions that answers"

"giving like this...guess it works? stuff with camera tough and food would run out...I dunno. Hard to know how to play that. Give and give and give?"

"waiting for guy to come back from prayer. this will be hard, my last Zarma speech- hope I, NEED to, nail it. want it to be done so I can be in my thoguhts, go to bed and be done. tought waiting more.

"today the dad of the family in my concession wearing a bin Laden shirt. [people had seen kids around one of the little towns near where we trained with one]. Just like the Obama shirts, right? They don't know? I hope so. same as voting. The main point is people don't really know what's going on..."

Thursday, le 13 janvier

Did not sleep well. still feel some unsafe at night. Think of things to do before I leave. Want them done. Finally, mornign prayer comes. Finally, sun comes up. 0645. I get up. A few quick packing changes. Put on oatmeal. Try to snap some pics of sun coming up. Look for doctor. He's not there. See my little bro. Pull him into my concession. Give him the last special lollipop I have. Grape. Tell him to study well. Tell him with knowledge and health, he can do anything. Hope it sticks. Have breakfast out in family's concession. Not so  Actually, kinda fun. Real fun. No fear now, I'm leaving in few hours. At some point, tell that family mom and dad. Bring over my bin of food. Not a ton left, but definitely stuff they probs never see (e.g. canned meat, Nutella, cereal). Drop off stuff at clinic, doctor stilll not there. Don't want to not get it over there. Go to magarie to tell him. Not sure it sinks in. Come back. Worried car will roll up any moment. Not ready. Go back to clinic. Sage femme there. I explain the situation. Show her the meds I brought, all the stuff Peace Corps gave us and my mosquito net and some money in case the clinic needs it. She is really nice. I'm on my way out and the doctor comes in. I run through it with him. The sage femme sits behind the desk. I sit across from her. The doctor sits on the patient table next to all the stuff. He starts to go through it, and I just sit mesmerized. Item by item, he identifies it, I chime in when I can, mostly Zarma, some FR, some questions, some miming (e.g. cough since I forgot the Zarma word). It is mesmerizing. I dunno why. They are nice people. He moves slowly and deliberately though it. I think they are grateful, probs some confused, probs now probs very misinformed about how Peace Corps works. When we're done, I head back to my concession. Would have liked to work with them. I erase the chalk board. Write an explanatory note to my village in Zarma on the chalkboard. Funny, of course, because no one writes or reads Zarma, but I don't think I can do it in FR...nor Arabic. Hope they get figure it out. I pull my bags onto my bed outside. Hang my solar charger to charge my phone and...wait.

Kids swing in hammock. It breaks again. Decide to try to tie it someplace instead of hammering it into wall. Tie it under their shade hangar. I think it will stay. Good. Glad I got to do that.

Wait.

Pace my concession. Check my phone constantly. Kids sitting inside. Doesn't bother me. I'm leaving. I pull out the Sesmane Street book in FR that I found...somewhere. Read it to kids, translating into Zarma. Here I am, six months maybe after starting FR, and I"m translating the kids book from FR into Zarma. That's a huge accomplishment for me, having neer learned a language before, and it's the hardest part of giving this up for me. Gotta do it again?

Woman comes while I'm reading. To look at my concession. Asks what I'm doing, where I'm going.

Waiting.

Sit outside of concession. See the magarie's go to guy. The guy who set up my house, etc. I explain it to him. It seems he doesn't quite know what to say. Maybe this happened before reading. I am getting nervous, too many people know. waiting too long.

Waiting.

Another lady comes over. Kinda asks some questions I try to evade. It's getting painful. I just want to sit and watch my phone, but the kids usually follow me. They look at my bags at my cell phone charger. They ask for everything, rubber bands, strings, the few cents of change I left on the table. I give them rubber bands, the clothesline hangars, the string from my kwaadi door. No, I don't have any more candy. My patience is thinned. How is string a toy? No, they can't have my Livestrong...the only thing left on my wrist. No, don't touch the solar charger.

We have no word. It's like past ten. At some point, I hear the driver had gone to the other side of the river first. Finally, he arrives. We load up. He looks in my concession. Tells them to move my bed inside. Asks me for a lock. I have packed it. Want them to be able to take stuff out. Small crowd. Small specacle. Minimal explanation. And we're off.

I ask him "Mate no?", like "What's up?"...trying to be careful. I know it will be hard on the staff. He turns to me slightly, his look not pained, but utterly dejected, and says "A si boori" or something that (No good). I feel so bad for the staff. This guy has worked for over twenty years for Peace Corps. He had evacuated from the Tahau (sp) region last year. Now, the country is totally out. I feel we are abandoning not only our villages, but these people who, it is noted, have dedicated their lives to Peace Corps Niger. Next year, PC Niger would have celebrated 50 years of unbroken service. No longer. I am told the staff, almost a full staff, will be kept on for a full year. To keep things going, in the hopes that the situaiton will resolve itself quickly and PC can return. Today, our training director, remember from the pic from swear in, came with us to Morocco. He seems so down. On the bus ride from the Casablanca airport, to our hotel in the capital, people kept commenting "Whoa! Real roads!", "Wow, fat cows like America!", "Wow, the ocean!", "Real soil!", etc, etc. Such exclamations come from Americans who have lived in one of the poorest countries of the world in the desert for 6-24 months. But, to a Nigerien, I worried they would be wholly insulting. How much better Morocco is than Niger, wala? I really really felt badly for our training director, a man larger than life, having led all trainees for 25 years, hearing his country picked apart by some 20 something year olds on a bus in Morocco. I guess he just wanted to be back in Niger, green grass or no green grass. Some lessons PCv learn well, others not.

I also feel so badly for older PCV's. I took it very hard at first, but being reunited with some of my stage mates, with more to come, I am reivigotated. I am jazzed up. Excited for this mini new adventure. Excited to have some say in where I will go. I do have to go. I have not really done anything. I want to be a PCV. In fact I was one. I cannot claim to have finish something I only barely started. I am excited to have some say in where I go. I am excited to see the countries we might be sent. Wish our stage could stay together, but also look forward some to another training. Now I know I can do training. But, the older volunteers. Had been there for a year. Had started projects. Had known their communities so well. Left so much more behind. Real friends. Work have started, not finished. They are taking it hard, many of them. I feel a freshmen again. I don't have the right to feel very upset. And I think out stage is taking it fairly well. We're bouncing back quickly. Excited. Looking forward. But, I feel guilty for our excitement, seeing their pain.

Last night, a mess at the hostel. Everyone trying to fit all their stuff, for us, three months worth, for others, two and a half years, into two bags of 23 kilo's each. Food left behind everywhere. Much eaten. Much left behind. A huge mess. Even here, American excess can be found. The driver from our region comes. Feel guilty...all the food. Our positive spirits. Older PCV's talk to him. I want to reach out to him, but have no rapport. Feel nothing I can say can mean anything. I hope someone said the right thing to him.


le 14 janvier

We left Niamey in the early morning. Working off...less than four hours sleep. More than many. Some have slept 4 hours in the last 48 hours. Everyone filled with anxiety to varying degrees. Hopped a flight to Morocco. Rolled into a nice hotel, maybe the nicest in which I have ever stayed. We moved out bags in, and then had an overwhelming buffet lunch. An older PCV, one I knew the best, looked at all the food and covered her mouth. Took a step back. Another paused entering the room. She could not finish her food. Both look dejected and overwhelmed all lunch. I am told the culture shock coming BACK is hardest. Maybe one day I will know.

"so this is evacuation? who would know". we have three or four cars leaving the hostel towards the airport. 0430. The most dangerous part, perhaps? The whole thing surreal. Very odd. The week at ville seems so far off, almost like it didn't happen.

On the plane, I sit next to a women, speak Zarma. She replies in English. Zarma done. I'm really proud to have learned the language. Had been such a huge concern. I did know if I could do it. The stewardesses speak Arabic, and French, and English. Arabic and French writing. Some English. So, we're back to square one. Not understanding anything. A few generally "Islamic" phrases we learned ARE arabic, so we can use those few. I'm kinda in language mode, excited to learn some Arabic...even though we'll be here maybe only a week.

I type up recap from blog days missed on plane. Don't look out window much. See desert though. Pretty unreal. Surface or Mars. Would have been cool to see Sahara, but that part of Niger even MORE unsafe. Untouchable for us without asinine risk. Want to close out "business". Catch up and finish out blog. I debate whether to continue blog through transition or into next assignment. I think no. At least not now. It's been very helpful for me and for people at home, but I hold onto it to tight, stress too much about it. want to just relax, experience, and think, without carrying the historian's burdeon of "recording". Want to be rested and have no agenda when the rest of our stage rolls in on Monday, and we start official business on Tues. Spent almost three months in Niger. Now I get a mini trip to Morocco. Next, who knows. It's turning into quite an adventure.

Will not speculate on circumstances of kidnapping, but other theories than the news about Al Quaida (sp) circulate. With the elections coming up, perhaps related, perhaps not.

There has been so much to experience, so much to record, it tears me up to have to put some on paper or type some up so quickly. For every though I remembered, every lesson I captured, I surely missed dozens more. For every great picture, a million greater moments were missed, could never be captured. 

Peace Corps Niger, destination Niger. Over. About 48 hours for my group from the phone call to touching down in Morocco.

More pics

Some of the erosion cutting into the mesa and ville.

By the Window

Looking out my window into the family's concession.

Niamey city lights from the front of my concession, looking across and beyond the river.

Around the ville

Looking over my wall towards town. My concession was on the west (?) edge of town, just before the clinic.

Some kids posing for a pic down by the river.

Shade! With birds and breezes! I loved the gardens adjacent to the river.

The river. For a few days, I assumed the flowers in the foreground were birds.

Onion plots I watched the farmer water. At some points, the garden plots were feet from or feet into the river.

The cassava I helped plant. Well, I helped till the ground.

Besides the river, the erosion into the mesa made the topography really cool, with mesas and gullies and cliffs.

Ay ya voluntaire no, walai.

So this is what a PCV looks like?

Ay sola ay windio.

Bed. Pull it inside during day and put in on the mat to avoid dust. Mosquito net gets dusty though.

I made the shelf with some kwaadi. My little next door bro kid helped me. Hooks better for hanging towels than stuff. Also, carboard perfectly covers the latrine hole (not shown). Little things like that.

Finally have hammock set up! Fun to relax at night and look at stars (when not dusty). I keep my water in that big bucket thing.

Flags up! Left spot for Nigerien flag. (Why is this pic blurry?)

Sweet rug! Can sit, relax, eat, on my own floor. Can do cals without getting dust everywhere! (Note chair bottoms duct taped and cardboarded so they don't stratch carpet.)

Closet. To the right, out of the pic, hangs kitchen stuff. Drying towls, frying pan, water bottle.

le 14 janvier ( recap till clinic)

Recap. Apparently the solar charger does not currently charge the laptop. Jam. So much happening, safe to say more than ever?, bad time to be behind on updates. Will refer to my notes from the pocket notebook...

from the le 9 janvier
"tired. on feet a lot. ok to rest some today? some big days coming up with brick making". I asked my contact if people rested on Sun. He said they rest on Fri, the day everyone (all men) pray together at the mosque for the 1400h prayer (allula, wala?). Jam.

"house looking great...except two most important things- wall painted and rug down. will feel good when those things done". Dreading having to move stuff out, sweep floor, paint, move stuff back in. Not sure exactly how to do it. Torn about whether I should ask about/ hold out for some clay/ brick material to patch small holes in wall before putting blackboard paint down so as to have a perfectly smooth surface. Not sure if this is letting me procrasintate on it.

Walked around in morning with the guy who came to the supervisors conference. We went to the small ville less than 1k from my ville...the one I am not sure why it is it's own ville.
"uncomfortable- 3 people (4?) asked me for gifts, money. partl nervous people will see my expensive cereal, dried fruit, pasta. I have so much wealth in the house it would blow their mind! Is that part of it? Feeling guilty for recognizing that? How little do these people really have? Do they have nothing? Want more? Who can blame them? I blow through my snack 2x as fast- shouldn't they ask for a little something? So this is poverty? Or is it? Flies on the baby's face. Dust everywhere. It's dusty yea...hate being asked for stuff...because it reminds us how much we have? Feel guilty like I'm doing something wrong- is it because I have so much more then them? So much to lose if they take it?"
walking around, guys building a house, and two women asked me for money or stuff. It irritates me some. The guys asked for some money to buy coffee. I said I didn't bring money. I brought my hands so I could work with them. They quickly said no, no, no. Of course, I do have tens of mil sitting in my house. Woman asks for my phone. I say if I give her my phone, how will my contact call me. I joke that he will end of calling her. He talks to her, I think explaining about Peace Corps some maybe. I want to get away from her and get distracted by kids so I can't catch what he says. I notice at some point my contact has a ten mil bill in his pocket.

Two deaf people in the ville. Again, seems a bridge too far. There doesn't seem to be an "official" sign language. People motion and point and...maybe the point gets across. The other day one guy was with us some in the gardens. He has a garden. So one way or another they are taken care of.

One boy has spit drooling out of his mouth. Dawns on me he must be mentally challenged. I watch him interact and this makes sense. Kids just kind of are deferentially polite some...don't pay too much attention to him unless he engages them directly.

So much dust! Cannot see the river from my windio (concession)! Crazy. No sandstorms yet.

In afternoon, I watch the kids study the Koran. The teachers, my contact one of them, write in ink on basically wood cutting boards. And the kids sit and recite it over and over until they can recite the whole passage from memory. I try to ask if the kids start from the begigining and memorize the whole thing or if they just do more or less random segments, but I don't think I articulate the question properly. I'm not sure. Just on Sunday? No every day, from like 1400-1600ish maybe? In between those prayers, in between school ending for lunch and picking up again in afternoon before dinner...still not exactly sure on that school sched. I think I could come and study Zarma while they study the Koran. Or, when I get a copy of the Koran, I could read it here, they would prob like that. I wonder if the kids are learning to THINK, or just memorizing to memorize. Are they learning Arabic or just memorizing passages? I see signs and confirm that sometimes (how often?) they burn millet stalks so the kids can study by firelight at night...same as in Cochetamu (sp bambata). Again, I can't help but wonder at the appropriation of millet stalks (I learned the word- kwaadi).Boys and girls split when studying Koran. One girls comes up, I ask if she is the only one. My contact says know, and I think motions to the other side of the wall... are there actually "bobo" girls over there? I cannot see. 

"hard to keep focused (if it even is the focus) on project- helping them. PST- focus is language. Now on getting bearings, culture, and integration, blending into well oiled wheel of community"

Erosion looks to be a big issue. During the rainy season, water cuts gullies from the river towards the kwaara. The water runs from the higher ground around the ville towards the river. While it makes the topography interesting, at some points, these sometimes big chasms are literally METERS from the edge of town. Some rock-in-wire stuff were put in, but not sure if its helping. Can't get a straight answer from villagers about HOW quickly the erosion is happeneing. At least it seems to be a clear need. Of course, I know nothing about erosion, but... kaala sooru (like, have patience). I note they should mark where the erosion is now, so they can measure it's progress.

"saw mirror first time since Wed. face of PCV? look good. tan lines around vortex."

Feel very good at night again. Perhaps sit in my hammock so see the stars some before going to bed. Text friends. Write. Perhaps on this night the dust accluded the stars.

I think again about people asking me for things. A harsh lesson in priviledge. As a white, male, American, I come to Niger and I am afforded all sorts of privildge. "white people show up and they assume we're rich, brought presents, can do anything". What do we think when WE see in America black people from other countries? Do we ask them for presents? I would like to think that priviledge and...power are geograhically relative. That as a white person in the extreme minority now, this experience approximates the experience of minorities in America. But, it dawns on me for sure now, this is unfortunately for our consciences NOT true. As a white person, even in the minority, I am honesetly a kind of king. I may be in a minority. But the power dynamic is still swung heavily in my favor. Sometimes not, but overall yes. Later, I think I comment how I can do anything. People let me observe their work. For example at the clinic later in the week, I just pop in and sit in on consultations. A black visitor from Niger comes to America with a well respected program, wants to learn about American medicine. Can he stroll into the local clinic and observe? How does HIPPA (sp? what does it stand for again?) feel about that? I honestly don't know, but I know it is not the same. Maybe ESPECIALLY in Niger, where I am told they respect their guests of any dumi very much...white, male, Americans have a double whammy of privildge. To be white in Africa is not the same as being black in America, I must conclude. Trite for some perhaps, but an important lesson for me I think.


le 10 janvier

Morning activity: making bricks!! Make bricks from like 1000 to like 1300 or something.  They collect clay. I see them closer to the river swinging...pick-axes? or something into the cliff to fell clay (kinda looks some dangerous the way overhangs are created...). Then they add millet chaff (Zarma chaff = du). Then they add water. They mix in the water my jumping and dancing on the pile in barefeet. This is how you mix the stuff to make cookstoves some too. At least there is no manure is this. First thing I do, I jump in on this, hoping to gain some instant credibility. People are not sure, I think, that I am serious about actually working. They mix it with their feet, with the shovel, add more water, etc. When it is deemed right they shovel some onto a open sack, and it is carried and dropped in kinda lines. Then, someone takes the mixture and puts it into a mold. Some more to the mold, but that's basically it. I end up making the brick mold. It's actually way harder than I thought. One is bent over or squatting/ kneeling on ground. The stuff is heavy to move around. And picking up the mold off of the clay is actually real hard. It kinda sticks some. I work for a few hours. I make 40-45 bricks. People wander in and out. They are impressed some at the annassaras work. I think again this is classic Peace Corps. Just working with the people.

I really like the kid who is kinda organizing the project. He looks in his mid teens, so maybe he is early twenties or older. He is real strong, real cut. He moves fast, works hard. Great smile, good attitude. I think we should be friends. Also like one of the kids from rabbit hunting. Also a guy by where we made bricks. Asked a lot of sincerely inquisitive questions about the US. I note these people I like.

I stress about when to leave. I think it's really important to see the whole job through. You get one perspective by popping in and out of things for an hour or so here and there, but you gain an entirely different perspective by sticking it out the whole bloody time...you get to see the full cycle of the work. I want to have lunch. I am so tired. Can I last till the prayer call before 1400h? I don't know. I am soon beyond tired adn settle into the exhausted work more, not terribly foreign, but haven't been there in a while since running has been mad lax. They tell me to take a break. At some point I do. I say I'm going to head home, they say stay for lunch. I worry about the food. Here we go...village food. How sick will I be? I hesitantly drink some of their milk porridge. Is it true the cow's here have TB? Later someone comments it won't give me stomach distress? We'll see I say.

Had looked at pics with people again yesteday maybe. Had thought about reading the posters from home, the notes from my stage. Decide against it. It seems these things oddly work in reverse. They should empower me, but they just make me sad. I am many times better off not looking at them when "in the field". Explain to kids how mom is crying in the pics the day I left and this makes me sad that I made my fam sad by abandoning them. See some great pics of mom, dad, me, girls smiling and I am reminded I am forming no new memories. Look at the notes from my stage and am reminded how we are apart, how all the hard work that earned such nice words has passed, cannot be dwelt on, and the hardest work is still to come.

"so much dust"

Feeling so great in P.M. I think this was the day in the afternoon that I finally swept out the place, but the blackboard paint up, got stuff moved back in. I'm like mostly set up! Again, the terror is in the anticipation. Just get it done and the work goes. The paint smells terrible, an oil base. I hope the table holds me. I put up all three cans, it covers a third of the wall? Will need 7 more acns. 15-20 mil. Well worth it...right? I'm willing to splurge to have a bloody blackboard in my room. Gives me great excitment. Mad props to...whoever sent the material thing to cover my mouth. use it to paint to limit inhaling toxic fumes more than needed.

"feel I am living the PC life. I am PCV. Excelled at all points up until now. Everything that has needed to happen has happened. Now nervous about "real" work to come. The true test, ya?"

So I am a PCV. I completed the application process. They said learn FR. I learned some FR. They said learn Zarma. I learned Zarma. I am at my site, I am observing, I am learning, and I working with people. I am doing it. Again feels this creates so much expectations and pressure for the "real" work. I am excelling...can I keep it up?

I am lying in my hammock, writing this in my journal. About how this is kind of it. The house set up. I am here. I am doing it. I am a PCV. Now it begins for real. Feeling good. Get a text from a friend in Maradi. Something like "two more FR people found dead in bush in Tillaberi. be careful.". Wtfuck? A separate incident from the kidnapping, etc. a few days before? I live in the bush in Tillaberi. Where? Up towards Mali, where we would expect something like this to happen? Where the terrorists from the few days prior were chased down? South of Niamey? This would be VERY unsettling. I read the text and my stomach drops. She doesn't have any more info. I text other friends in our region. No one knows. I am suddenly very scared. For real. The danger is now real. "in the bush in Tillaberi". My friend says she will sleep with her machete. I think about sleeping with a knife. Run through scenarios. Escape best option. Should I pack an escape bag? Really? Am I going to pack an escape bag? Wonder if I should sleep inside? You can see through the millet stalks and "door" to my bed very easily. But inside, there is only one way in and one way out. I'd be trapped. I get ready for bed. Not as fun being outside under the stars any more. Will keep phone on. Lying down. Hear a car. A car? There are no cars in my ville? Jesus, really? I look through the kwaadi. No one. Shadows only dance. I retreat to the bathroom, so I cannot be seen so easily. Jesus, I'm hiding in the latrine. So THIS is Africa... I come to my senses. Danger only in my mind for now. Lie back down. Soon, texts come in. A friend had checked with the security guy. He knew nothing of the incident. A text from the friend in Maradi: oops, something got lost in translation. Not a new incident. Same one as few days prior. Sorry. Serious? "Danger" passed...of at least perception of danger lessoned. But night ruined. How quickly we go from feeling safe to essentially fearing for our lives. I do not sleep as well.


le 11 janvier

Hands will not come clean from brick making. Soo sore. Suprisingly to me, it's my legs, hamstrings/ adductors the most. From squatting. Shorter run. I must be running 10 min miles feels like.

I realize this is cold season. I need to acclimate better before it's 130. I wear my chords and a winter had. Feeling very Nigerien. People ask why I don't have a coat (you don't feel cold?) and I can now site my winter hat and heavy pants. It's true, the mornings have been cold. I would run in long sleeves in addition to long pants, but can't find the shirt I want.

I am afraid to use some stuff. The awesome towel Aunt Jayne sent for example. The "gone running" long sleeve shirt I brought along for such cool morning runs. Worried it will "break" too soon. want to save tricks. Two bloody years. I will have bought new stuff, ya? But those are my thoughts.

Today, elections. I look forward to a "rest" day of just observing, sitting. No kilometer hikes. No making bricks. Voting takes place at school. I mill about, some uncomfortable to just plop in. I shake someone hand. He asks if I am a new volunteer. He was at the swear in. Did he hear me speak? Oh, that was me? That's great. I ask if I can observe. He says sure. Offers me a seat. Tells everyone I'm the new volunteer, maybe he mentions I'm the one who gave the Zarma speech, and that I'm going to watch, tali si no. Privilidge.

A young guy sits next to me. My age maybe. I ask him many questions. Text my friend also watching elections in his ville. I put together pretty well I think what is going on. Kind of. People come in. The must have a voting card they get in the city 20+k away that says they can vote. They show it to a guy. He checks their name on the list. They move to the next table. This first vote is for the Say "municipal" elections. Each candidate for conseignair (sp bambata) has a little slip of paper on the table. The person takes one of each. Goes behind a screen, either woven dala or cardboard. They put one slip of paper in an envelope. Seal it. They discard the rest into a plastic bag. The come out. They put the envelope in a plastic bin. They go to another guy with a list. This vote for the Tillberi region. There name is checked. They repeat. Then, to show they have voted, they dip their left thumb in ink. Done. Often, if not always, it seems there is some confusion. Instead of a line, the stations are set up (both on the official poster hung and in the room itself) in a zigzag.

I think, watching democracy in action, how we take voting for granted in America. I don't give much at all about voting in America, but here it interests me greatly. A sophmorish perspective for sure. My "teacher" tells me just about everyone here votes. I explain not so (case in point, me) in America. I wonder if violence will mar the elections. Am I safe watching the voting like so? I dunno, but I like being in on the action. Later, I tell people I watched the elections. I learned how it works some. I say, I will observe learn what they do. Today, they vote. So today, I watch. I learn. They agree, nodding their heads. I think this is good.

I worry again about when to leave. It's monotomous, but want lunch. Hungry. Is lunch coming? Never entirely sure. Worry again about dirty food or dirty hands. I am unsure, but I walk around, my contact says "you going home?" I take the excuse, say I will come back. Home, want to repack some. Be 100% settled. I am interrupted by kids going rabbit hunting. Damn. I go with them. They are here. Don't want to lose cred. Very bitter about dispution in my "sched". My legs are so tired. I can't even keep up with these like 10 yr old kids going up and down the mesas. I am looking more closely, but I know how my legs feel, they could easily drop me. Worry I should have stayed at voting. Important to see start to finish. Worry about stuff left on floor. Wanted to be set up. How will I make up that time? Always unsure, second guessing what I'm doing. "Feel I should see, do so much...want affirmation I'm doing right". Time chasing rabbits totally ruined by my inner dialogue. Need to learn to more easily shut it off. Ashamed when kids come in to have all my stuff out, my food trunk open. Damnit. They see my wealth.

Finally go back to voting at 1700. Voting to end aat 1800. Not sure if people have eaten, but everything is as it was, except everyone is mad tired. It's a long day to be sitting. I try to settle back in, but feel so guily. I got to leave. I didn't sit with them through it. I think about Ramadan. I feel my cred is destroyed by not watching the vote ALL day...how will I feel when the entire village, except me, is fasting. Problem for later. "Should have stayed. Should have brought them food...not on it. Just so much to/ could be done".

I note some people don't know what they're doing. They don't know democracy, inter....wait, I didn't know what I was doing either. If they don't vote, they don't know. First vote for these people in a while? So they don't know the protocol. I don't either. Don't want to read too much into it. I wonder how much the people know about the candidates. People can LEARN anything. They can learn to vote.

Finally, it is six and the voting ends. I want to watch them count. Each party has a rep to obseve the count. The sun is setting. The room getting dark. By the end, they are relying on cell phone flashlights to write down the tallies. An "election" lamp is floating around, but alas, no batteries. They put the carboard on the floor. Dump the envelopes. A dozen men squatting over papers on the floor. Darkness coming. I want to take a picture of this democracy in action. But then, the ballots are a sea of blue. Interestingly one sided...my friend said a candidate came to his ville and literally gave the town money. I asked someone here if candidates came, did something for town. He says maybe 2 came. I try to understand if the person who visits gets all the votes, but I'm not exactly sure what is going on. What IS clear is that the election, at least at this level, is most certainly "fair" in the sense that people can vote anonymously, the count is correct and double checked. But, it seems people in the villes don't know anything about the candidates or the issues. A candidate comes, he talks to people. Maybe he gives out t-shirts, maybe money (heard both from volunteers) and who are these people going to vote for? "Fair", yes. Informed, no.

Kids have been outside all day. Adults swat them away with kwaadi. Things seem to be getting more frantic as the counting progresses. Kids popping in. Forget when it hits me, but they want to little ballots. The little slips of paper. After the first count is done, someone throws the papers outside and the kids go crazy. Picking them up. They try to invade the room in small scirmishes. Second vote done. We are shoed by a VERY tired guy who seemed to be kinda in charge. I walk away a little. See someone through up ballots. Kids go CRAZy collecting them. Maybe this happens again. Just crazy. They're just bloody colored slips of paper.

Random notes: losing pullup callauses again. Can't find a bloody place to do pullups. This really bothers me. It's very easy to see the body getting weaker.

Stopped by doc office to say hi yesterday. Have yet to spend any real time there. The doctor was in the room with a stethescope with a patient. "Oh yea, health is my role. Does this make me excited? I don't know so much going on. Love the gardens, brick making. Voting raises issues of government. Health. Feel not qualified for anything so what's the difference. Really like doctor though..."

I learn an organization did a census of elible voters. So some work already done. Maybe.

Uncomfortable at night again. Day, the threat seems noexistant. At night, wild scenarios run thorugh my head.


le 12 janvier

Plan for day to observe clinic. Will have been here for one week today. Feel if I can observe clinic, I will have had a wildly successful week. Hit most things.

"am I homesick? that goddamn despair feeling..." that is often with me when I wake up. I recognize it as same when I got invitation. Fear about work ahead, about leaving home, about all the unknowns. Same from lang immersion. Anxiety about not feeling well, not maximizing work time with so much work to be done. Worry about not getting to type up blog. Worry abotu not recording properly these expeiences. Of not remembering all there is to remember. Without blog to type, I feel I record less? SO much to absorb I don't write long enough at night. The "gap" in my blog notes I worked so hard to prevent here, at maybe the MOST crucial time. My first few days in ville. Though, I did miss the first week of PST. Maybe it is ok...Maybe I am writing too much? Need to just let it go and just experience. Process it later. I don't know.

Get to clinic. "Clinic. Numbers- population census. Ok. Disease surveillance. Ok. I can make a contribution here. Do they need this? Erosion? All the other ideas? So much doubt and uncertainty."

Fuck. Doctor not there. Went to Say again. Another wrench in my "sched". Roll with it...how? Should I observe school today, come back later or tomorrow? Sage femme there. I will need to build rapport with her too. I sit in "waiting area". She comes out, I greet her. Not sure what to say. She pulls in a few patients. I sit. Finally, I approach and ask if I can watch. Some awkward moments while I feel this out. Finally, I settle in. Ok, good. Observing clinic. Hell, I've never shadowed a doctor in America. Priviledge. I just sit in on consulations, etc.

I am enjoying observing the sage femme (what is a sage femme...like a midwife who has had schooling. this woman may be a nurse? the doctor may be a nurse. I rarely know. Whoever is THERE is doctor for the day, they have to do everything anyway so functionally one's background doesn't matter). She is very nice. She asks if I understand stuff. I ask questions. Rusty on some of the health vocab. So much more to learn. It's easy to phase out and not catch anything, but if I dial in, I can understand what is being said to varying degrees. I feel important.

And around this time one week ago, I arrived at my site.

RECAP OF WEEK ONE

I have...
- starting day 2 or 3, greeted magarie every morning to start day (after my stuff) and walked around town some. Then, walked around or sat with people in that like 4-7 block for some period of time (not all of it). Everyone, I think, has seen me. It seems they all know my name.
- set up my home, as much as possible. This is a huge boost to me. This, and establishing some kind of schedule helps me feel like I'm clicking.
- hunted rabbits. Eaten a squirrel thing.
- visited the gardens. Observed and helped with some garden work
- visited one of the other smaller villages (twice actually) and met with and talked to magarie
- made bricks
- observed the elections
- observed the clinic
- played with the kids some (but less after first day or so. will have to look into this)
- blown through a dispropotionate amount of food

I have not...
- gone to a market yet
- left my ville (i.e. traveled alone. I will not this later)
- done laundry

I noted several times something like "don't forget how hard it is". Because, I look at what I did the first week, and I think I did real well. Several people said they were bored in ville. This blows my mind. Some people spending most of time in clinic. I didn't get to clinic for a week. So much of community to see. I feel integrating into the daily fabric, whatever that is, paramount now. There will be time to do the "work" later. But, I don't want to forget all the mental energy and ups and down, all the times of doubt. But, I did it. Again, I am a PCV. I did the first week, and I think I did it well.

le 08 janvier

Today

Can't shake bad feeling in A.M. Did not help, today the guy I met at the supervisors conference came knocking at my door and woke me up at 0745. That means I slept for a good long while. Between waking up, running, cals, and breakfast, he and the kids that live next door kept popping in. REALLY drives me crazy when I can't get squared away in the morning. Hate it. Really makes me feel like I have no safe space. Poss this contributes to me feeling uncomfortable. Sometimes I am afraid to make noise in my room, fearing someone will hear, remember I'm here, and want to come over.

Also have yet to find a suitable place for pullups. Major jam.

But this guy is real nice. I tried to invite myself over for dinner, thought it would be good to chat with him. Also worried with oatmeal and pasta...that's only two meals. Cereal will not last. No bread for the nutella and jelly I got. One meal short a day. cecena in afternoon not a full supplement.

Walking around with this guy, we met three guys going to the gardens. Perfect. I hopped on that and went down to the gardens. At first, I felt some awk trying to articulate that I wanted to see and watch and work with them. Felt I was a bit of a bother. They sent me off with the deaf guy. Again, a deaf Zarma speaker is much harder to understand than a regular Zarma speaker. But it was ok. Finally, I settled in with one guy who watered some onions, then tilled some ground to plant some rogo, which I think is cassava for English speakers. The guy and I worked literally side by side, using a kind of shovel/ pickax thing that I think in Zarma has the same word as shovel. Then I watched a guy make a dala, a woven mat/wall thing made of thin little stalks of some plant. It's what is on my shade hangar and what they added to my bathroom so no one can see in.

The gardens are amazing. All along the river, there are gardens, Lots of mango trees, so there is actually shade. The gardens go right up to, and sometimes into the river. The river is at its peak breadth now I am told, and when it recedes, I think they will plant some stuff on the ground the river left. They said guys will sleep under the mango trees in the hot season. Shaded and maybe a breeze still comes off the river. I think it would be so cool to just hang out down there. I want to get my own garden, some of my own space, that I can work. I have a ton of seeds I bought before leaving Hamdy. Not sure if its too late to plant. Also don't know what I'm doing. Decided just to watch for now. (Later a guy, I think, said he is going to give me some garden space?! Freakin awesome!).

So, to water the onions: the onion plots were right up against the river (marked off by sticks and flags so they know how high it will get...I think). They had dug a well by hand a few meters above the gardens. The water table by the river must be mad high. They had also dug a little track for the water to run on, exactly what I had dug for my latrine, except on a much larger scale. So the guy stands in the well (it's wide for a well but not very deep obviously...he's up to his knees...maybe) and uses a "bucket" thing to throw water from the well onto the track. The water just runs downhill in the track to a plot. When they want to water the next plot, they move the "dam". They have put dirt blocking this track or that track so as to control where the water goes. They want to water the next plot, they take a shovel, move the few shovel fulls of dirt in front of the second plot to the first, and the water is successfully diverted. It's like sandcastle making at its finest. I can't believe how simple it is, and how well it works.

Felt real good about morning. Walked up to the ville by myself around 1330. First time I have been walking (not running) alone. Feels fun to "know my way around" enough (it's not that hard to find the ville). Think again how awesome the ville is and how I just need to bloody relax and enjoy it. Standing in the garden with the wind coming off the river....it's just an amazing place to be. So many worries dance in and out of my head. I'm living the dream: farming in rural Africa. Need to chillax.

Also note that I need way less water now than when I first arrived. Partly due to less heat, but I think the body has adapted. I don't carry water with me when I walk around, even for three hours outings in the morning. Don't drink liters and liters when coming back either.

Somone just said salam aleykum and my stomach knotted, worrying they were coming for my concession. False alarm. It's this stress I need to lose.

Major news when I check my phone Two FR nationals kidnapped in Niamey. Whoa. For me, things like this always hit me weird. It actually relaxes me. The danger is too abstract, not real. Unlike people barging into my concession during the day. I am not vicerally afraid. Instead, I feel kinda badass for being involved in a dangerous situation. Moreover, it is entirely out of my hands. What does worry me I realize, is being "consolidated" to our regional capitals or being evacuated from the country. These days are TOUGH, ups and down like crazy, but we MUST endure this first month and three months. Getting pulled out just to have to reenter just makes it more diffult I think (unless we could really hit the Zarma, which would be hard). And being pulled from Niger would be SOO hard. All the Zarma would have been for naught. Three months in...do I restart in a different country? Split from my stage here. Just across the board, that would be sooo hard.

Again, the possibility of the other reinforces that this is good. Thinking about getting pulled actually gives me some joy in being here. I was given lemons by a guy in the garden. I decide to make lemonade for my neighbors. We cut up all ten little lemons (and our fingers a little) and add a full waranka (100 CFA) bag of sugar...and if I do say so myself it's damn good lemonade. I drink a small cup, give a bunch to the fam, then take some to some important people in town. Feel very good about this.

More progress on the room. Feel things are getting set up. Getting pulled would really suck. Get a text later from an older PCV, says possibility of consolidation or evacuation not likely. Good I guess. Back to business. My friend is right though, kidnapping in Niamey does not say much about the safety of the country. "Green zone" ever shrinking. He is also right that being American and Peace Corps and not FR and more wealthy only helps if people know who we are. Every day we are asked if we are FR or American or something.

Some stress in P.M. Tomata paste cans expired and no good. Jam ate two. Now have less to work with when making pasta. Eaten the week's quota of cheese and two weeks worth of cookie/ cracker things and a week or two's worth of cereal. The market better have some good stuff or I will be eating very humbly the last week or two. No bread is a real killer. Then found a mouse running around. Think I chased it out. Have all my food in my metal chest, but had left out the bread the guy brought me and an orange. Threw away my garbage, moved food out. Jam bambata. Maybe I should get a cat? Worried about dinner...again. Not sure if the guy understood me inviting myself over. Again I'm nervous eating. I'm eating and I hear him coming...fuck. But he greets me only. This time misunderstanding works in my favor. I can relax. No more distubances (I think tonight). Day done.

Oh, yesterday was the first day I spoke no English. Texted, typed, thought, and wrote Eng, but did not speak it (unless one dude offered a few broken Eng greetings). Today had some Eng phone convos so streak broken. Felt better about zarma today. Some smaller convos help me understand. Still feel I'm not really learning new vocab or grammar. Less than a handful of new words.

So much to absorb, I don't know how to do it. I have my pocket notebook, but I don't want to be stopping every second to write something down. Do I record all the details of the garden work? Do I write down EVERY word I don't understand? Should I study these every night? Just want to say screw all the extra stuff and just live it, but I think for me I could reap huge benifits from organizing everything an hour or so every day. Maybe I should be doing that instead of blogging.

Tomorrow maybe I will visit people making bricks. Need to go back to the clinic. Maybe I should start obseving there twice a week? Feel it is less dynamic than in gardens, around town. Two major things to do with room: paint blackboard wall and clean floor so I can put down the rug. These will have my room functionally set, if not completely done. Not sure if I want to fill in all the holes on the wall before paitning. Embarrassed to ask for materials (the brick material would work I think) and kinda don't want to take the extra step. Settling into routine some. I hope I can handle it. Lots of time on feet. A soft tissue injury would be such a slap in the face.

le 07 janvier

January? Oh, right, it's still hot in Niger in Jan.

Writing while eating to try to expediate bed process. Worried someone is going to bring me dinner again. Will just eat it for breakfast.

Woke up...off. Don't know why mornings are like this. Woke up quater to eight, worried I was "late" to deliver the magarie's dishes. Went to run, thought my little neighbor was telling me not to, something about the dog or needing to go to the magarie's house. Wha? Ran anyway.

The terrain here has so much character...for Niger. Or anywhere I guess. Small canyons and gullies in between mesas. By the river, gardens and actual trees and shade and if you close your eyes and just listen to the birds (and you're in the shade so the sun isn't "koron-ing" you...you might think you're actually in some kind of forest.

My runs have hills now. Not long ones, but short steep ups and downs in the gullies.

There are birds here. Not sure if there were in Hamdy. But way more by the river.

Noticed erosion from water that runs towards the river during rainy season? Will have to look into that.

After stopping by magarie's house (decided even when I don't have plates to drop off, this is a good idea), went to walk around. Planned to find some peeps working in the garden. Instead found a guy going to funt rabbits. Joined him.

We trekked maybe 2-3k out. Wind was blowing, I followed the adult. We and the kids split up. Sometimes the kids would stay low, by the river, and we would stay high on the mesas. We would throw rocks into bushes to flush them out. He had three dogs with us. I thought, this is super fun. I'm too tired to describe it in detail, but it was sweet. Couldn't tell if he was good at it or not, but we didn't get any rabbit. Only one squirrel like thing that the kid made as an afternoon snack. Actually pretty tasty. A few times, we looked at footprints. A few times we though we had something and everyone would run. I felt we were tracking something; really cool. I hope this whole experience is not about fulfilling my sophmorish fantasies of Africa, but trecking across the terrain tracking some animal is pretty bloody sweet. EVERYWHERE by the river are gardens. There are so many. Why this is a CHA site and not a FARM site I have no idea. So much happening here. Want to ask for some garden space so I can plant some stuff. Saw rice in the river, but be the kind that needs to be flooded. Thought again I don't know much about anything...but I can cover several kilometers on foot no problem. In a few months, I hope to be catching rabbits daily.

Had my notebook and would write down words I didn't know. But never really went over them. Feel I'm blowing it; not studying Zarma actively. But taking "down" time to fix up room. Some more good progress today. Other half of my bathroom wall installed. I put up a hammock, think I decided on a room arrangement. Put up a clothesline INside, but it's not quite working.

Food today: leftover dinner from last night, bowl of cereal (first box done. balls), oatmeal and raisins, cecena and fari masa, pasta with tomato sauce and some spices. Solid. Worry I am going to run out of Niamey tricks WELL before I go back to Niamey.

Talked to guys in afternoon sitting on benches just hanging out. They talk too bloody fast, I understood very little. I much prefer one on ones. Worry I'm not picking stuff up fast enough. Felt the same on lang immersion I remember. Need to think in two weeks increments to see real gains.

Tomorrow, maybe I will help some kids make bricks.

Note from the first day I got here: noticed people laughin when I said did stuff. People staring from a concession or two away while I set up stuff in my concession. Laughing is cool when I'm laughing. I dunno on that first day it made me unfomfortable.

le 06 janvier

Woke up tired. That feeling off...couldn't label it until later. Worried about faux pas with dinner food brought from magarie last night. So, last night, I had cereal. Then made pasta...then people brought me food.  Ate some pasta. Ate some of their food. Or visa versa. And was embarrased to have this extra food. Hid it in a bag and then discreetly discarded it this morning. What an idiot. I had already leanred that giving extra food to neighbors is a great way to get on people's good side. Really blew it.

Ran to edge of coolest looking mesa. What an awesome view. Did not entirely cut through my feeling...Thought, again, that it would be way more fun to share. Now, I think, even with the village kids, like when we ran through the gully yesterday.

Want house set up.

Met with magarie in the ville less than 1k from my ville. Why it is a separate ville I have no idea. We talked for an hour or two, and I really enjoyed it. One on one, with him talking slowly and me asking him to repeat, I get almost everything. I told the kids to be quiet when it was hard to concentrate. If I lose focus for a few minutes, I get lost. He seemed really cool. He talkeda about how America is rich because people eat until they're full and people can wear nice, clean clothes and people can wash with soap. He said in Niger people don't get educated, so they work but can gain no money. He said sometimes people go to school in the city, but then don't come back. I think. If he did say that, it's interesting because another PCV had said, regarding that very situation, "who can blame them?" He said more, and I'm overemphasizing these points by vitrue of me remembering them now, but I enjoyed it.

Put a label on that "off" feeling...uncomfortable. On the defensive. Don't like it.

In my room, very overwhelmed. What to do? A million things, it seems to do (clean walls, where to put tables, could I find something to cauk the holes before I paint even if I wanted to, how to string clothes up, can the walls take a nail...)

At some point, kids were coming up to my door. It makes me so uncomfortable to have people poking in, looking in. I told some to leave, say salem aleykum, and come back in. Some kids were just standing inside the "door" while I was putting up clothes line, and I told them to leave, that I would come out to play, but no one INSIDE my concession. This really tears me up. I just gave a goddamn speech empahsizing the importance of kids, and indeed they have been my best friend here, but it drives me crazy when I have no personal space or time. I can't think. Just spin in circles. Feel a spotlight is on me. This is the "fishbowl" effect no? Was I not warned of this. I'm quite a novelty, I need to give them a break. Wished I hadn't snapped some. Holding on too tight. Very hard to "let the children come" whole heartedly.

Left, settled on a bench with kids around. Decided to show pics from home. As I was about to reveal them, the magarie called me in. He told me any or all of the following: 1) be careful of donkeys 2) don't run through town (also something about donkeys?) 3) don't associate with kids so much, adults will help me learn Zarma, etc. 4) I should go rest in my concession. Wtf??! Tried to clarify with his kids numerous times. Still mad confused. Went back to my concession. Felt some a prisoner in my own concession. Did not know what to do, worried I had made a mistake, done something wrong, even though I asked and they said no. Got what I wished for, no kids, right? I love kids. Just not in my concession. Would be very upset if I was "dissalowed" from hanging out with kids. Feel so much pressure to get things right, to "set the stage" right for my work to come, from the walks aroudn town to how I set up my room to NOT making mistakes...when I'm generally so confused. Could use an adult friend STAT. I let myself read the Christmas letters from home, a bad idea, but that's where I was, and let myself cry (#2).

Read one letter from my stage. A perfectly written uplifting letter from one of my closest friends. He's talking about a me that seems, at times like this, so far away. I feel paralyzed my indecision or confusion. Although it can't cut through exactly, I tape it up above my door. My plan is to open one a day. That will help me through the first month. I tried to make some moves; hung the two flags on a wall. May not be the right move, but I made it. Did something.

Confidence shaken. Tried to push it, go out, then rebuked. Wha?

Then total redemption:
Showed pics from home to some kids. Went to sit and talk with some men (not kids). Older kid invited me to come with him to the river on his how turko (cow cart). He let me drive it down! Not as hard as it looks, at least when you go mad slow. He took it through the edge of the gully section. At the river, a dog came. People hate dogs here. I'm not a pet person, but I don't get their hatred. People pull me back to protect me. Then the dog comes back, tries to bite a woman, she drops all the stuff she has on her head and runs away. People are yelling, all excited. Kids are picking up sticks and rocks. People are montioning me farther back, behind a cart to protect me. The dog tries to bite a donkey on the tail, the donkey tries to kick it. The dog leaves. I hop on the cow cart and the boy drives it up. Kids walk alongside the two carts headed up to town, everyone is yelling and talking excitedly. Kids pick up two rocks each. I want to jump out and pick up some rocks, start a war party, but decide not to look like an idiot. We pull through town, the kids are Paul Revere-ing it up, yelling about the dog to everyone. On the way down, I have a true smile that these adventues are exactly what I signed up for. Decide I need to spend LESS time in the house, which just makes me stressful (feel I should be out, feel I'm not getting the private time I want).

Then, some dudes walk me to my concession, and add another wall to my bathoom wall. It's higher and cannot be seen through at all. This is cool. One little thing that hadn't been QUITE right, fixed. The other side will be brought tomorrow. I ask if we can raise the walls all around, so kids can peep in, so I can stand up and not be seen. They say yes. Talk about replacing the sheets I hung with "dala", this woven straw stuff that is real legit to keep the sun out of my shade hangar. How nice of them! My ville is really awesome. I was proud to show off the little changes I've made already. The flags. The sheets. Need to give myself a break. Two years a long time to settle in. Don't need to finish the house in two days.

Start to make some food, some little things around house. Wash for first time in ville. After afternoon cry and wash, I feel clean. Some accompished. Room seems to be putting itself together.

Same food problem. I make maka, they bring me food. I solve it correctly this time. Eat my mac and cheese, eat some of their food. Save some for breakfast. Give the rest to my neighbors. Live and learn.

Talk to Kay. Am I really in Africa? The phone shrinks the world. Am I using it too much? Too little?

Say I will drop off the pot in A.M. to magarie. Jam. Another A.M. meeting. Have some kind of plan for tomorrow. See how it goes.

At night, you can see the lights of Niamey. I feel kinda bush, but can see the biggest city in the country. Not that bush at all. Nothing like Maradi or Zinder I imagine. The stars are so bright at night though. Tempted to move bed out of shade hangar so I can see, but fear the morning sun.

Day 2.

le 5 janvier

Another one of those days I can never have back. Installation (i.e. moving to site)

Set alarms for around 0630. We were to be picked up 0730. Woke up 0715. Jam. Even though I tossed and turned some and woke up a bunch of times as usual, I was happy that I was relaxed enough to sleep until 0715. Or just mad tired.

Driving to my site....yup, definitely nervous now.

Took my first Zarma phone call in the car. I think it was from the guy I met from my town during the supervisor conference. I told him we were the car and going to our village. I think about half the convo was greetings, etc. But then, I was told this guy had left the ville, and I didn't see him, so maybe he called from wherever he is? I dunno.

One worry that popped into my head on the way: worried I won't like it. My home, the setup...any and all of it.

My friend is taking a cat to her site. On the way to my site, it pooped in the cage. And it smelled. Jam.

Installation went well. I spoke a bit when the PC person was done with their shtick. I hit just about everything I wanted to say, without looking at my "outline"...though I did have it open in my pocket notebook. Told them they are my friends and family now. Told them I know there is a lot of work to do, but first I need to learn Zarma and learn about our village. I ended with a Zarma proverb, one of the ones I dropped in my speech, and I got a raukous applause. Then someone had a question. The guy asked if I was the person who gave the Zarma speech at swear it; he heard it on the radio. Yes, that's me. Really, couldn't have asked for a better set up.

Really started, or did, hit me as we're unpacking, they're loading up, I'm standing there waving goodbye, I'm standing in my house. Didn't think it would happen to me because I know there are so many things to do, but I thought "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" Wanted to walk and see people, but I thought the guy said to wait on that? Want like a week of no interruptions to set up my room and such, but can't have that. What am I supposed to do?

Based on people talking to me afterwards, worried I projected my Zarma skills too much. So many times, people talking too fast, too many at once. I'm not getting much...fluency would make this SOO much easier.

The site is SOOO nice. I am indeed up on top of a mesa a few hundred meters from the river. I have a view of the river from my doorway to my concession, even from the one little window in my room. My "house" is one square room, that is actually part of someone else's house. But I have my own concession and my own (brand new!! no poop or cockroaches yet!)latrine. The room is pretty small, but with my bed outside it opens up. The ceilings are mad high!!! Crazy. Makes the room feel bigger. Only prob is they are so high (maybe ten feet?) I can't realy get up there to afix anything without dangerously standing on my tip toes on my sketchy tables.

Major jam. I noted to my friend during the town meeting thing that one guy seemed really cool. This guy came and talked to me and def was really cool...but then said he's leaving for exode (when men leave to go to another country to find work and send back money) tomorrow. Jam bambata. There goes my most trusted connection already.

Holy crap. I have my own concession. My first apartment!

Dicked around the concession. wanted to walk around. Want time to unpack. Really want to get out of tie and change out of dressy clothes. What to do?

Went to CSI, met doctor or nurse of whoever. Really cool! Now, with the first guy leaving, my favorite guy in ville. I'm excited to work with him. Young. Seems real cool.

Met a teacher. Not sure if he knew about me. He seemed confused. I wasn't sure how much info to give him (e.g. has he ever heard of Peace Corps?)

Walked around town. Accumulated 10-20 kids in tow. walked around some. Came back to my concession, told the kids I was going to rest. Put up some sheets on the side of my hangar (like an overhang) to block the sun. They brought my door...not perfect, but at least there is something there now. Around four, went with kids (they were waiting based on our prior agreement) down to the river. They wanted to run. They told the ville I would run every morning, and now I think that I run everywhere or all the time. The landscape is so cool. So much more character than just the desert. There is a small canyon thing where water runs to the river during the rainy season. It's filled with soft sand, and the kids jump in it. Hilarious. I debate, then gently follow. Only a few feet. The sand is soft. It's fun, we're like exploring. We get to the river, I decline swimming or washing, explaining it may be dangerous for my health. Which is true. We walk run back, walk around town more. THe kids show me how to wrestle. We walk around more. There are about 30 kids in tow for this afternoon excursion. many times of confusion. Too many people talking too quickly at once. We visit the smaller ville a few hundred meters away. The kids say I should see the margerie, but he's not there. I get an appointment to return 0800. Jam. Already, my schedule is filling up. The kids are great guides. Telling me where we should go. Who I should talk to. Getting me out when the convo done.

Try to set up a hanging light, which fails. Try stove. Can't get it to work. Eat some cereal (with powdered milk...I got some of the baby stuff cause it has extra vitaments...that or the cereal is mad filling). Get the stove working. Put on some pasta. Some girls bring me food. Jam. Now I have two dinners.

Mad tired. Room a mess. Since I knocked some bee or wasp nests off the wall, it's dirtier than when I started. My two tables don't make up for the two shelves and so my stuff is still in bags. I'm not sure I can even nail into the walls, though there are nails there, to run my fishing line to hang my clothes. My water filter had a crack in the bottom and duck tape didn't do it. I filled up my two water bottles by letting the filter drip directly into my bottle. They will bring me a new one tomorrow. Would very much like to sleep for 12 hours.

Main issue (the same issue): personal time and space. Despite the lecture during installation, people don't really wait for my response to salem aleykum to come into my concession. This would not be too bad, but they also don't take the hint to leave. They mill about. The walls are not very high. I'm working and kids are looking over. I mean, I'm a huge novelty, so this should not be suprising, but it makes me uncomfortable. I will hang out for 8 of 10 hours, as long as I know I have my two hours to do whatever and that time is safe. From today, I never knew when my time was, when someone would barge in, if I should be out talking to people, if someone was watching me. Need to be better about asserting myself, but I don't want to shoo people away really. Again, people say there's bored, there's nothing to do at site. I don't get it. Setting up the room itself will take time. I can keep walking around, sitting with people, romping around with the kids for an infiniti amount of time. I could just follow the doctor around. There are maybe 8-10 little hamlets aroud my town within 10k I could visit. One town over, there is a HUGE agricultre research institute. Across the river is a bigger town. I could sit in on classes. I could study Zarma. The people were told to help me learn, so the kids are giving me all these new words at a mile a minute, all at once...I find it hard to learn that way.

Going to go to bed.