My First House!

So here it is: my first house!

The second picture is the view from my window (which more often than not includes a camel or two).

The other outdoor picture is of my concession (outdoor walled-in area where I sleep and hang out). The sticks you see will soon have more sticks on top of them to create shade (which is called a "hangar" in french... not sure what to call it is english). Also, the door will *hopefully* be attached in the near future.

The last two pictures are of the inside of my house. It is a one roomhouse, with mudbrick walls, a cement floor, a tin roof, and two windows. On my table you see a water fliter and gas stove, and in the bottow picture you see my bookshelf (which I obviously couldn't live without!) and the trunk where I keep food.

Home Sweet Home! :-)

Ramadan

As I mentioned, it's Ramadan right now, the month long Islamic fast during which Muslims do not eat or drink anything from morning prayer (about 5am) to evening prayer (around 7pm). Since virtually everyone around in Muslim, the fast affects basically every aspect of daily life. It's been really interesting to witness, as it is a very different kind of fast than I am used to. For starters, it's completely uniform, unlike lent. Everyone does the same thing and everyone knows that everyone is doing it. Technically if someone is sick, pregnant, or travelling long distances they are absolved from the fast, but for the most part it seems that most people partake regardless of those circumstances. While not eating from 5am to 7pm is certainly a challenge, I don't think that holds a candle to abstaining from drinking water through the heat of the day, especially here. As a matter of necessity, so as to avoid heat stroke or severe dehydration, activity dwindles and people spend a lot more time sitting in the shade during this month.

At first, the constant discussion of the fast threw me off a bit. Understand, as far as lent is concerned I try not to mention that I'm fasting and to keep what I'm doing/not doing for lent to myself and am accostumed to others treating their fasts in a similar way. But the difference here is that everyone is doing exactly the same thing. People talk about it, often, but they typically talk about it just as they would the weather. "Hello, How's your health? How's your family? How's your fast?", etc. go the regular greetings.

This discussion of fasting has also put my Hausa skills to the test. When asked, I've explained that I'm not fasting now but that I do a different fast in March. (Although I do think I'll participate next year, when I'm in my village..) "Do you eat food?" they ask of Christians during Lent.
"Well, yes, we do."
"Do you drink water?"
"Well...yes."
And then they look at me as though I'm utterly ridiculous, and either say "That's not a fast!" or "That sounds like a great fast - I wish I could do that one instead!"
I try, to little avail given my uber-limited vocab, to explain that it's not necesarilly easier, just different. That it lasts longer and each person chooses what they will give up and/or do. Still, I feel like I've done a pretty serious disservice in my explanation, and thankfully I won't have to attempt that discussion with my villagers until next year, when, inshallah (God willing) my language will be slightly more proficient.

Officially a PCV!

I’m swearing in tonight. After nine weeks of training and two additional weeks of language classes, I’ve been given an “intermediate high” rating in Hausa and will be sworn in tonight with five others. Training was long, often exhausting, and unbelievably helpful. I’m so glad to be done with that phase of PC and to be finally moving into my village and starting my work here.

I will go back to Konni tomorrow or Tuesday, and will spend about two days there before getting installed in my village. This will give me a little time to get my stuff in order and do some shopping before heading into the bush, but the real reason for the wait is that Ramadan is ending this week, and there is a huge celebration on Wednesday or Thursday. It would be somewhat overwhelming to try to move in during the fete, so we’re waiting until it’s over. BUT I will be in my village later this week, and I cannot wait. I know it will be difficult, especially these first few months during which I will be trying to:

-learn Hausa
-get to know people (ie make friends so I’m not sad and lonely all the time.)
-brainstorm possible future projects and counterparts to work with
-set up my house (my first house!)
-and much, much more, I'm sure...

Anyways, it will be tough, of that I'm sure. But I can’t wait.

Surprise Safari

Transportation in Niger is anything but romantic. There are bush taxis, which are usually 15-passenger vans that take you from one village or city to another, and by "you" I mean you, 25 other people, and the occasional livestock. And then there are the buses, for the much longer journeys, such as the treck from Niamey to Konni, my regional capital, the city about an hour away from my village.

that's right, *my* village.

We had site visits last week, and I got to take said bus ride out to Konni (about 7 hours... not bad compared to my friends' trip of 14+ hours!). I met most of the other volunteers in my region, saw the hostel (Peace Corps property for the region where we have team meetings, and are able to come in to write project proposals, etc.), and spent 4 full days in my village. but I'll talk more about that later... What I'd really like to tell you all about was the bus ride.

the buses, while hardly Greyhounds, are significantly more comfortable than the alternative (bush taxis, that is), mostely because they only allow one person per seat (for the most part...). Still, the roads are...bumpy... very bumpy...

So there I was, sitting between two other trainees on our way out to site visits, talking to pass the time, occasionally attempting to read (which is basically impossible for more of the road... see above paragraph), and generally spacing out. Suddenly, some of the Nigeriens started getting excited and pointing. One woman tapped us on the shoulder and pointed out the window.

There were giraffes. RIGHT NEXT TO THE ROAD.

They were literally within about 30 feet of me. Standing, looking, eating from a few of the trees. About 15 wild giraffes.

I should mention that this particular heard of giraffes is the only herd of West African giraffes left.

And there they were. Tall and elegant and strange and beautiful.

"So this is Africa..."

On the bus ride back, I was telling my friend Kira, who had been on a different bus on the way there and didn't get to see the giraffes, about the whole experience. Then our bus suddenly came to a stop.

"How funny would it be if the bus was stopping because a giraffe was crossing the road?" she joked.

It was.

And we saw several more standing on the side of the road, once again.

breathtaking. that's really all there is to say.

I do have to get going now, but I'll be sure to write more about my village soon.

Also - I have a niece!!! As of three days ago! And she is BEAUTIFUL!!! :-)

miss you all and hope all is well in the states!

The Trials and Tribulations of Communication

"One coffee pleace. Without breastmilk, thanks."

How would you respond to that request? Thankfully, for a friend of mine, the man who sells coffee in our village is used to Americans and our awkward attempts at speaking Hausa and Zarma. Only after two weeks of ordering coffee every morning did my fellow PCT realize that he had been using the wrong word for milk...whoops.

Most days, for most of the day, I sit in a small, round hut with 3 or 4 other PCTs, staring quizzically at our language instructer as she pantamimes dramatically to indicate the meaning of the newest Hausa phrase. It is an entertaining, although often exhausting, game of charades.

Learning a new language, one completely unrelated to anything else we know, comes with many challenges and awkward moments. It's already very obvious that a good sense of humor and the ability to laugh at yourself are absolute musts for life in Peace Corps/Niger.

Monsoon Season

"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??

stargazing

I saw the big dipper the other night. It's completely vertical from this point of view. Strange. Totally familliar and yet totally foreign.

I love it at night here. It cools off a lot and there is almost always a breeze. I'm staying with a family of four in the village outside the Peace Corps training site, although each night about a million kids and teenagers come over to watch TV. They watch a Brazillian soap opera, dubbed in French, the news, and Hausa music videos. I sit and watch the starts, instead.

Re-learning

I am sure that anyone who joins the Peace Corps, or anyone who moves from western civilization to a developping country for that matter, expects to need to learn a lot and drastically alter their day to day routines. I knew that everything would be very different. I even had some ideas about what it would be life. However, the experience of needing to re-learn absolutely everything is...well... strange.

I'm learning Hausa, relearning how to go to verbally communicate. I had to be taught how to go to the bathroom (although I'll spare you the details), how to eat, dress, sit, wave, bathe...Nothing is familiar, and yet, somehow, everything feels natural (most of the time).

With the accomplishment of the most mundane tasks I find constant reassurance. "I can do this."

Somehow, the ability to eat rice and beans with my right hand gives the assurance that two years here is a manageable thing. Because, here, it's all about taking things one step at a time.

Welcome to Niger

We stepped off the plane onto the landing strip and into the blazing sun. "This isn't the hot season," we keep reminding ourselves, as we wipe the sweat from our foreheadsand fan ourselves with whatever is available. It may not be the hot season, but it certainly is hot.

Once we all were through customs, having had our passports, visas, World Health Org. forms checked, I and 46 other Peace Corps trainees congregated by the baggage claim conveyor belt. All of our backpacks, suitcases, and guitars made it here safely, and 47 PCTs breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Tondi, a 6foot+ Nigerien man with the jolliest laugh imaginable, led us outside, where we were met by a group of smiling Peace Corps volunteers with welcome signs and bottles of water. "Is it cold?" someone asked hopefully.

"No...this is Niger. Don't worry. You'll love it."

So far, I do.