Transition Conference

The adventure continues in Morocco for now…

Thank you all for the kind emails and other messages of support, I feel so lucky to have such an incredible support network around me and it’s making this whole process a lot easier.

I have been in Morocco well over a week, and it looks like I will be here another week and a half before I head to RWANDA. Beginning February 6 (the day after Daniela turns the big 1-6!) I will be a Peace Corps Rwanda Community Health Volunteer.

How this came about is a little bit of a mystery and I’m not sure what sort of universal alignment of stars has allowed me to fall into this… all I can say right now is WOW.

When I arrived in Morocco Monday January 17^th with the remaining Peace Corps Niger Volunteers (PCVs) we began what is known in the Peace Corps world as a “transition conference”, also known as: this sucks a lot. We spent a week going through all the things normal PCVs do when they close service after two years: meetings on what it’s like to return to American culture; resume building and career opportunities; lots of medical exams to make sure we didn’t have crazy parasites… you get the picture.

We also had lots of meetings to discuss how to continue our Peace Corps service. Close to 100 PCVs were evacuated from Niger and almost everyone wanted to continue working in another country. I think this desire to continue service speaks volumes about the caliber of people I’ve had the pleasure to work with over the last three months. Unfortunately, however, finding transfer positions for 97 PCVs is not easy.

The transition conference staff (who were all incredibly patient and understanding) gave us four basic options: 1) COS. Your service is considered finished, move on to something else. 2) Re-Enroll. Go home for a few months, rejoin Peace Corps as a new volunteer. 3) Expedited Return to Service (ERS). Start Peace Corps all over again within the next 60 days. 4) Direct Transfer (DT). Go directly from Morocco to another country and continue serving as a volunteer.      

Although most people were interested in ERS or DT, very few spots were available, and even fewer matched each individual’s language and skill sets. When the options were first presented, I decided re-enrollment would probably be best for me. My thought process was: life is not a race, and now is not the time to jump back into anything. ERS and/or DT seemed great if you knew exactly what you wanted, but chances were exactly what you wanted would not be available.

The next day, the ERS and DT positions available were posted for all of us to see. Among the positions posted was one in Rwanda, as a Health/Organizational Capacity Development Volunteer: I could not have written myself a more perfect job description, or picked a more interesting country.

The next day, after some confusion (my dear friend Jorie Aldrich and I often confuse Peace Corps staff), I learned there was in fact a position for me in Rwanda!

So right now I’m waiting in Morocco until Peace Corps Rwanda gets everything straightened out. Again, I have no idea how this ridiculous set of circumstances has allowed me to be in the position that I’m in, but I won’t question the cosmos…

I am really excited about my new position in Rwanda and the chance to travel Morocco. I have been incredibly lucky given the circumstances; still, my heart is aching for Niger. I know it’s easy to look back, now that I have hot showers and a real toilet to sit on, but I’d give up running water in a second to go back to Niger.

I guess what I'm really realizing now is the extent to which my privilege really separates me. Not only do I get swooped out of danger as soon as Peace Corps deems it necessary, but I get flown to safety in a beautiful country, given a mini vacation, and a new job. Meanwhile, my Nigerien colleagues and supervisors are out of jobs and potentially at risk.

It’s a really strange predicament and I’m not sure what to do about it other than simply acknowledge it for the time being… sai hankrui.

Evacuation

I’m writing this blogpost from Rabat, Morocco, where all Peace Corps Niger volunteers have been evacuated as of January 17.

The recent kidnapping and killing of two French nationals in Niamey, by Al Qaeda of the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) terrorists caused Peace Corps Headquarters and the State Department to rethinking the safety and security of all Americans, specifically PCVs in Niger. If you want to read more about the kidnappings and other recent attacks on foreigners by AQIM, I suggest reading articles from the Associated Press, or Africa Review… or google it yourself.  

I really do not have words to express my disappointment, my profound sadness. All I can say is I hope expressing my immense heartache helps better describe to everyone back home the warmth and generosity I experienced in Niger. I leave Niger with a better understanding of development, but also a greater appreciation for its people and their way of life. Sai hankuri (have patience) is the phrase I kept hearing over the last week. Now I’m trying, but it’s difficult.

I was assisting with prenatal consultations at the health hut in Kore Hausa (my assigned post), last Wednesday, January 13^th, when my boss Souleyman called to break the news. I tried to go back to work after I hung up the phone, but within minutes I had to excuse myself and go home to regroup.

As soon as I reached my concession I started weeping. It came all of the sudden and surprised me: I had been in Kore only a week, I don’t cry easily… and still there I was sobbing uncontrollably about leaving the place I was getting so excited to call home.

Ami, Masbahou’s wife, must have heard me because a few minutes later she called over the thatch fence that Masbahou wanted to talk to me. When I got back to the health hut Masbahou, concerned, closed the door.

I tried to explain in my best Hausa that Peace Corps told me I had to leave because of insecurity in Niamey. He asked me if I was scared. “Of course not!” I replied. “So why are you crying?” he replied with genuine concern and wonder. In Niger, no one cries.

“Ina son zamna nan, cikin Kore!” I replied. I want to live here, in Kore. Masbahou smiled and told me not to worry, that as long as I was not scared there were no problems. Then, in a more serious tone, he told me I could not cry. If I cried, everyone else would cry and that would be a problem. I took this request to heart and spent the next twenty-four hours trying my best to comply.

Again, I am without words to express my sorrow. Everyone in Kore Hausa welcomed me with open arms from the moment I arrived. When I told Masbahou I was not scared, I was being completely honest. Niger is the safest I have ever felt in my entire life.

There’s a lot more I want to say and incha’Allah I will write more about these experiences soon. I am going through an evacuation conference in Morocco at the moment, unclear what my immediate future holds. I literally do not know what country I will be in three days from now. BUT I am safe, and relatively healthy. Thanks to everyone for all the support so far and stay tuned for more news. 

Arrival in Zinder!

I’m starting off the New Year in my new home: Zinder! We left the training site at 4AM on December 31^st and arrived in Zinder around 8PM. The bus ride was long and not at all comfortable.  Niamey is around 560 miles away from Zinder. This distance would probably take me eight or nine hours to drive in the U.S., but the road conditions in Niger make the bus ride quite a bit longer. We took the national road was mostly paved, but also included patches of sandy road that sent me flying out of my seat a couple times.

Some of the older volunteers here in Zinder came to meet us at the bus station and welcomed us with motorcycle helmets. In a previous blog post, I explained various methods of transportation that exist in Niger. Well, I have a new addition: kabo-kabos.

Kabo-Kabos are motorcycle taxis, and the only taxis in Zinder. Now if you’re reading this blog, chances are you know me and you know that I am pretty clumsy. So you also understand me getting on the back of a motorcycle, with a forty-pound traveling backpack strapped on my back and a ten-pound small backpack strapped to my front, is not the best idea in the world. This scenario becomes an even worse idea when you include the fact that my unlucky driver was also carrying two more, very large duffle bags on his lap while driving. Add to this the fact that we’re driving on unpaved sandy roads. (But don’t worry Mama-- I was wearing a helmet!)

I did in fact survive my first kabo-kabo ride. When we arrived at the Peace Corps hostel the driver seemed pretty annoyed. In a culture where physical contact (particularly between men and women) is almost unheard of, my clinging onto his back for dear life might have seemed offensive. Also, I’m pretty sure my legs flying all over the place did not help… Sai hankrui, have patience!

Once at the hostel, I enjoyed a delicious dinner of hamburgers and peanut butter cookies with the new and old members of Team Zinder. I was too exhausted from the long bus ride to go out to celebrate the New Year but I was pretty proud of staying awake until midnight.

Usually I make New Year’s Resolutions. This year I am not. I’m beginning the New Year in my exciting new home, but still unaware of what the year might really bring me.  Right now I’m shooting for good health and happiness, and I wish the same to all of you. Happy New Year! 

Swear in Speech-- English Translation

Ladies and gentlemen, honorable guests, salam alikoum!

Thank you so much for being here today to celebrate with my friends and me this landmark event in our Peace Corps Niger careers.

I would like especially to thank Madam Ambassador Bisa Williams for offering her house to us, the Deputy Ambassador for hosting us, and the Secretary General of Niger’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs for his presence with us today. I would also like to thank Country Director Valerie Staats for all of her support during our training.

I speak on behalf of all my stage-mates when I thank, from the bottom of our hearts, all the people who have worked with us over these last few weeks. In particular, I would like to extend our gratitude to all the Peace Corps staff, current volunteers, employees of the training center in Hamdallaye, our host families, our teachers, and of course, Tondi. It is only thanks to your work and infinite patience that we are here today. Thank you so much.

Before I continue, I would just like to highlight that my friends and I have been diligently studying Hausa and Zarma during our entire training period. And now, I have been asked to give a speech in French.

These last few days in Hamdallaye have been difficult for me. We have had to say goodbyes to people who have become our friends and our families. During one of these goodbyes, I told my neighbor that her daughter, Aida, had grown a lot since my arrival. In October, she could barely walk, and now she runs all over the place. Her mother responded that just as her daughter has grown, my understanding of Niger and Hausa have grown as well.

Before arriving in Niger, I knew almost nothing about this country. But now, after two months, I have learned a lot.

At the same time that Aida has learned to put one foot in front of the other, I have also learned how to walk and talk here. Our understanding of Niger’s richness, in particularly the richness of Nigerien people, grows a little bit more each day.

My stage mates and I, we are health, agriculture, and environmental volunteers. Our most visible work lies in the development of humans, trees, and animals. But, in the villages we travel to tomorrow, and where we will spend the next two years, growth will also be social development—between us and our neighbors, our friends, and our Nigerien families.

For good growth, trees and humans both need a good foundation and strong roots. Each one of us arrived in Niger with our own base, but we have established important roots during our formation.

Now, training is over.  We are ready to go off.

After this moment, with a strong foundation and solid roots, the real work of growth and development begins with our Nigerien friends.

Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you.

I’m a real Peace Corps Volunteer!

As of December 30^th I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer! The swearing in ceremony took place in the morning at the U.S. Ambassador’s residence in Niamey.  Over 400 people were invited and Nigerien T.V. and radio stations were also present. The event reminded a lot like a high school or college graduation, complete with many photo shoots, fancy clothes, and fold up lawn chairs.

The event was beautiful. The weather was perfect—not too hot and even a little wind! Before the official ceremony, “cocktails” were served. In other words, a great assortment of sodas, popcorn, chips, and peanuts were available.

I was really honored and proud to have been asked by my stage to give a speech in French. In addition to remarks from our training manager Tondi, the Peace Corps Country Director Valerie Staats, and the Niger Deputy Ambassador (I think that’s the official title), three new PCVs (including myself) gave speeches. First my stage mate Alison gave a speech in Hausa, my friend Dan followed in Zarma, and I finished with French.

I have to give props to my stage mates Eric and Nora who both speak much more eloquent French than I do for their help. I was really nervous about my accent before hand, but I think it turned out ok! I’m posting the French speech I gave and a quick translation in English incase you’re curious.

After the speeches, Nigerien national TV interviewed me! They asked how I was feeling and I told them that I could not be happier to officially be a volunteer and start working in Niger. They also asked if training had been difficult at all and I told them that of course, moving to a new country, learning a new language and adapting to a new culture were difficult but that my stage mates and I had incredible support from both the Peace Corps staff and our friends and family both in the United States and Niger.

The Kasua (Market)

Shopping in Niger is really fun. It can also be stressful. Luckily, I’m becoming a decent bargainer (I think).

Most medium to large sized towns in Niger have a market day. This is one day a week where people come from the surrounding areas to sell everything from flip-flops to coconuts. From the markets I’ve seen, it seems like they are generally divided into a couple different sections: a meat section (do not recommend for delicate stomachs), a live animal section, a clothing/fabric section, a vegetable section (mostly hot peppers, tomatoes, onions, and garlic), and a “stuff” section.

The “stuff” section is pretty entertaining. In addition to all types of pirated Gucci and Armani, you can find soccer jerseys for all European teams, and soccer jerseys for team Obama.

In Nigerien markets you can buy a complete soccer uniform (in pretty much any color) that says OBAMA both on the front and the back. You can also buy Obama flip-flops, belts, hats, flashlights and my favorite: Obama boxers. Regular t-shirts with Obama (alone and/or with his wife and children) are also everywhere; as are t-shirts with Avril Lavigne and Cristina Aguilera circa 2005.

Christmas

Merry (belated) Christmas and Happy (really belated) Hanukkah!

I spent Christmas in a very similar way to how I spent Thanksgiving: at the Peace Corps site with my stage eating delicious food! To be perfectly honest, Christmas was a little rough. Perhaps because I had experienced no issues celebrating Christmas away from my family in Ghana three years ago, and Thanksgiving was uneventful, I sort of expected to have no trouble with being away for Christmas this year…

Unfortunately, most of the day I found myself thinking about what everyone back at home was doing. Things like Daniela performing Sugar Plum in the Nutcracker, and my dad reading The Gift of the Magi by the fireplace. A combination of inclement weather in London and general slowness in the Niamey Post Office prevented my group from receiving any mail the entire two weeks leading up to Christmas, which only added to the homesick and distant feeling.

Although I was a little down most of the day, I went to bed in great spirits. The stars on Christmas night were incredible! I’m pretty sure I counted seven shooting stars. This is one of my favorite things about Niger. No matter how my day goes, I can always count on seeing an incredible star show at night and this always helps remind me of how happy I am to be here.

Scarification

You may have noticed in some of the pictures on this blog and on my facebook some unusual markings on the faces of many of my Nigerien friends.

A traditional practice in many parts of Niger is to engrave markings on your face. These scars are done at a child’s naming ceremony, which occurs a week after a baby is born. Different areas in Niger mark people in different ways. For example, Hausa people from the Dogondouttci area often have two long marks across each cheek, beginning at the end of your lips and extending all the way to your ears. Many Zarma women form the Tilaberri region have a small vertical line on each cheek.

The way the practice has been described to me, scarification is an ancient tradition that began as a way to ensure that warriors, who often traveled far from their homes, would always be able to identify people from their area and find their way back no matter how far away they were.

The scars are really beautiful. When I first heard about this practice I thought it seemed like an unnecessary practice, but it’s really no different than tattoos or piercings in the U.S.

*Author’s note—due to my slow internet connection, I am unable to post pictures of these scars but stay tuned...  

iPoop

Author’s Disclaimer—this blog post is about poop. I do not advise reading while eating.

Peace Corps Volunteers talk a lot about poop. It can change from morning to afternoon here, and it’s a very clear indicator of the status of your health. Also, it happens to be in your face a lot.

Animal poop is everywhere on the street and your home because people live in very close proximity to them. People poop is also everywhere. Outside cities, there is little running water in Niger, and any relatively secluded area is a perfectly acceptable restroom.

Sometimes there are more official looking restrooms. On my bus trip back from Maradi after language emersion, I got up the courage to use one of the public rest stop bathrooms. Imagine a line of Port-a-Poties at the end of big concert. They’re heavily used and they smell bad, lots of questionable water/mud on the ground, no toilet paper left. Now imagine that when you walk into said port-a-potty, instead of the actual seat that you sit on, there’s just a whole in the ground, about seven inches in diameter. The whole is only about six inches deep and at an angle so whatever goes down is going to flow to some undisclosed area.

I entered the above-described latrine in a haze, having woken up from Benadryl-assisted sleep. The smell and general appearance of the latrine woke me up a little more, as I realized maneuvering this situation might take some thought. I started to pull down my pants and PLOOP! …That would be the sound of my iTouch, not my poop, falling into the latrine.

Now before you go ahead and judge me I want to remind you of the numerous times you’ve heard someone say, “My cell phone is amazing! I dropped it in the toilet and it STILL WORKS!”. Well, my iTouch is not so amazing because it did not survive the latrine fall, but I think it was worth the risk.

All this to say, I am now iPod-less. My iTouch is now on its way back to the U.S. for repair. I’ll keep you posted on Apple Support’s professional assessment.

Kokoa (Nigerien Wrestling!)

It turns out wrestling is really popular in Niger. I got a first taste of what Nigerien wrestling is like over language immersion. I walked through sandy fields to a neighboring town and promptly found myself part of a group of probably one hundred or so people circled around two young men, decked out in fake Armani jeans and Arsenal FC shirts, grabbing at each other’s arms and legs. Two other men stood on the sidelines: one man with a winter coat (it was probably 85ºF out—this is “cold” in Niger) was acting as the referee, and one man circling the crowd, pounding on a drum and making sure the kids stayed far enough away from the fighters.

This I learned was amateur kokoa-ing, which is popular in rural villages. The National Wresting Tournament occurred a few weeks later. The day after Christmas, while walking through the large open market in Niamey, my attempts to bargain were often interrupted by sudden outbursts of screaming men who were crowded around radios listening to the fights. The same night, I watched the final match on my neighbor’s TV. The wrestlers look like they’re a weight class under sumo wrestlers, and wear similar diaper looking bottoms. 

The kids all went crazy when the National Champion was finally announced. A large looking man from the Maradi region was paraded around the sandy arena on a horse and soon after received a check for 7 million CFA (around $14,000) and a car. Hadija, my host sister, remarked that he would now have many marriage proposals, so I should get in line.

Language Immersion

In order to speed up our language learning, Peace Corps Niger incorporates a two-week language immersion trip into volunteer training. I traveled to a small village in the eastern region of Maradi with five other trainees and two language trainers to immerse myself in Hausa.

It was certainly a learning experience. The idea of language immersion was not at all foreign to me. Between 1999-2001 I lived in Malaga, Spain with my family while my dad directed a study abroad program for Dickinson College students who wanted to learn Spanish. While in Malaga I saw three years of college students come in with almost no Spanish and leave communicating easily.

Perhaps because I had already seen the results of being completely immersed in a language, I went into the immersion with the intention of speaking absolutely no English and trying my best to communicate only in Hausa.

In reality, it is very difficult to communicate in a language you’ve only been learning for a month and a half. It is even more difficult to try and communicate in said language with people who speak your mother tongue fluently. These setbacks were very frustrating, but I did end the two weeks with a better understanding of Hausa, life in a rural village in Niger, and also my stage-mates!

My favorite part of language immersion was definitely the host family we stayed with. Esta, my five-year-old host sister, is probably the cutest child I have ever seen. During my free time, I taught Esta and her brother Jacob how to sing heads-shoulders-knees-and-toes. One evening, after a particularly frustrating language-learning day, I took my iPod and twirled Esta around to Frank Sinatra’s “Just the Way You Look Tonight”.  This quickly led to a large dance party of Nigerien children and American Peace Corps Trainees moving around to Lady Gaga and the Cupid Shuffle. It was amazing.

Overall, I left language immersion with less confidence in my Hausa speaking skills than I had hoped, but certainly more confident in my ability to live in a rural village on my own. All’s well that ends well J.