“It looks like California!”
“Leah, no, it doesn’t.”
Okay, Mozambique is not California, but after 10 months in Niger, to me, it looked it. There are big streets (with street lights!), skyscrapers, palm trees, coastal views, and even a few mansions (over where the president and ambassadors live… to be fair, that’s a pretty nice neighborhood in Niamey, as well…). There’s a movie theater, ethnic restaurants, trendy bars. None of the buildings appeared to be made out of mud brick. It was warm and mildly humid. I just kept thinking, “California!”
In reality Mozambique is a very poor country, with an alarmingly high AIDS rate, and if someone had come there straight from America, I’m sure no parallel between Maputo and CA would have been drawn. But I’ve been living on the cusp of the Sahara, and Niamey has precisely one skyscraper and very few paved roads. I’ve been told that it is the last remaining capital city that allows livestock to roam the streets, so there are goats, sheep, cattle, everywhere you look. The fact that I could so easily have confused this “third-world” country with one of the wealthiest parts of the United States might give you some idea of how underdeveloped Niger actually is…
I spent a good portion of our time in Moz making exclamations that all went along the same lines. “OH MY GOSH!! YOU HAVE (insert something I hadn’t seen in months…mostly food related)!!!” Hopefully Vic didn’t find this too obnoxious…
And then there were the cultural differences…
“Is this okay?” I asked as we walked down the street, holding hands.
“Yeah, kid, its fine.”
“Are you sure??”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Seriously???”
I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that PDA in any form could be acceptable. Holding hands in public?! Oh, the shame. Oh, the scandal. Girls walking down the street with their shoulders and knees showing?! I blushed every time they walked by… But then, this is not a Muslim country. There are different rules. And the higher level of infrastructure is, I’m sure, directly related to how much more tourism Mozambique gets than Niger, which has its pros and its cons. Still, despite these glaring scenic and cultural differences, there is a certain level of commonality of experience amongst PCVs, and maybe especially PCVs in Africa. The joys and frustrations of living and trying to work in another culture, learning another language, sticking out everywhere you go…While our experiences are obviously very different, where it counts we still are able to understand each other.
“Leah, no, it doesn’t.”
Okay, Mozambique is not California, but after 10 months in Niger, to me, it looked it. There are big streets (with street lights!), skyscrapers, palm trees, coastal views, and even a few mansions (over where the president and ambassadors live… to be fair, that’s a pretty nice neighborhood in Niamey, as well…). There’s a movie theater, ethnic restaurants, trendy bars. None of the buildings appeared to be made out of mud brick. It was warm and mildly humid. I just kept thinking, “California!”
In reality Mozambique is a very poor country, with an alarmingly high AIDS rate, and if someone had come there straight from America, I’m sure no parallel between Maputo and CA would have been drawn. But I’ve been living on the cusp of the Sahara, and Niamey has precisely one skyscraper and very few paved roads. I’ve been told that it is the last remaining capital city that allows livestock to roam the streets, so there are goats, sheep, cattle, everywhere you look. The fact that I could so easily have confused this “third-world” country with one of the wealthiest parts of the United States might give you some idea of how underdeveloped Niger actually is…
I spent a good portion of our time in Moz making exclamations that all went along the same lines. “OH MY GOSH!! YOU HAVE (insert something I hadn’t seen in months…mostly food related)!!!” Hopefully Vic didn’t find this too obnoxious…
And then there were the cultural differences…
“Is this okay?” I asked as we walked down the street, holding hands.
“Yeah, kid, its fine.”
“Are you sure??”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Seriously???”
I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that PDA in any form could be acceptable. Holding hands in public?! Oh, the shame. Oh, the scandal. Girls walking down the street with their shoulders and knees showing?! I blushed every time they walked by… But then, this is not a Muslim country. There are different rules. And the higher level of infrastructure is, I’m sure, directly related to how much more tourism Mozambique gets than Niger, which has its pros and its cons. Still, despite these glaring scenic and cultural differences, there is a certain level of commonality of experience amongst PCVs, and maybe especially PCVs in Africa. The joys and frustrations of living and trying to work in another culture, learning another language, sticking out everywhere you go…While our experiences are obviously very different, where it counts we still are able to understand each other.
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