"Farida!" my host mother beckoned me (using my new, Nigerien name) into her house and held up a yellow complet (the traditional west african dress made up of a shirt, pagne - wrap around skirt - and headscarf). Several women excitedly helped me into these new clothes, as I relished in the recognition of laughter's universality. I can't say much to them, but it's funny that my pagne keeps falling off, and we all understand that.
The night felt electric. Maybe because of the excitment of all the PCTs and host families as we got ready to go to a "fashion show"/dance party at the Peace Corps training site. Maybe because of the oncoming monsoon.
We tried to beat the rain, but I constantly had to stop and readjust my african garb, and the downpour hit moments before we reached our destination. During the rainy season it rains once or more a week. The monsoons come quickly. Huge clouds roll in from the east and turn the sky red from all of the sand they carry. The wind picks up, the temperature drops, and the much needed rain falls, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. It's beautiful. And for a short while, its cool. Sometimes even cool enough to wear a sweatshirt! (Not need a sweatshirt, per se, but wear one...)
And then there are the frogs.
If I could only put into words the sheer volume of these frogs...On the way home from the fashion show that night I made my way back through the village with a few other trainees, heading for our respective huts. We inched our way along the edges of the streets, dodging the enorous puddles left from the storm. And the frogs were screaming. It was loud enough to tempt me to cover my ears. Reminiscent of a fire alarm at BC... Who knew such small creatures could make so much noise??
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