Some photos from Niger

Wrestling tournament that occurs at my village each year. Millet planted in rows and looks like corn. This is the main crop in my community.

My new shade hangar. Below you will see why its new.

I was sleeping under this when it crashed.

Ostrich's at a nearby (60 km) away from my village.

Me and some of the men from the village.

A grain truck got stuck.

The Conseiller and his twins.

To Stephanie

Sorry I’ve been so bad about updating my blog. And this would now be a typical update, telling about what’s happening in village, just how strange camels look (and they are funny-looking beasts), and essentially helping both me and you to understand the differences between Nigerien culture and American. But sadly, this isn’t a typical update. This isn’t a typical time in a Peace Corps service. In fact, nothing is typical, nothing is as it is supposed to be. It’s now been three days since I heard of the passing of Stephanie, one of the new members of Peace Corps Niger and, more specific to me, the Team Zinder family. We held a memorial service for her yesterday and followed her to the airport. We said goodbye in that way which we know how to do.

And so, if you like ‘typical’ updates, sorry. I can’t do that. Not this time. But here it is, the other side of my Nigerien life. Welcome to the American-American relationships, the What-the-*bleep*-are-we-doing-here side. In short, the side that helps to keep us sane as we wander around in our village, away from home and all that we grew up knowing.

I only knew her from a few half-days in Niamey and then some more in Zinder, but once a part of the Zinder family, always a part of the Zinder family. It doesn’t seem right to say she felt like family to me, she was far too new for us to have developed any sort of relationship. And yet, she was part of our family, a family that consists of a small number of Americans, from all parts of the country, with all sorts of lives, and who has seemingly little in common. But who cares about whether you’re from Jersey or Missouri, California or South Dakota (what what). Who cares that one studied English, another French, this one Foreign Relations, that one Art History? So what is there to join us together, but that, having gone past the literal (and one might argue proverbial) Timbuktu, there are 15 other Americans, just as freaked out as you in that lonely area called Zinder. So yes, we are family, hanging onto each other in this strange, crazy land.

Stephanie was at the exciting point in her service, where things are still new, people still like to hear your stories, and children love to call out ‘Anasara’ (white person). And yet her shoes are all too familiar. Yeah, I’ve been there. I was there a year ago. I’m still there now. I have grown since coming here, and this place makes far more sense now that it did when I first came. But I’m still Alex, born and raised in America, land where the snow falls, leaves change, people drive to work and school, and Starbucks and Wal-mart are always opening new stores closer than the one before. Some of my villagers might have heard of Wal-mart. What it does is a whole other matter. And the closest they can come to a $10 cup of coffee is a 10¢ glass of Nescafe. Snow is something some people have seen on a TV, once upon a time. Leaves yellow and fall, but who would guess at such a bizarre thing as pine needles? And ownership of cars? We don’t even have 10 private cars in my village. Are you starting to get why we lean so heavily upon each other? Want to guess the only person in my village who doesn’t understand polygamy? How about the only one who is confused when the husband and wife aren’t present at the marriage ceremony?

Looks like I’m starting to ramble now. But this is my life. A constant culture shock, even though the shock becomes manageable. A daily trial of walking out into this eternally strange world. Dawn to dusk, living life in my new home. And it does feel like home…almost. This is part of the reason why we go to Zinder or visit others’ villages, to experience that other side of the coin. You do what you need in order to survive. And this means spending time with those who are living this culture shock with you, those crazy Americans who crazily jumped on this crazy ride.

I remember talking with my dad before going to college, and he told me about how I would be making new friends as I find people I’m going on this new adventure with. Did he know even then not just how true it would prove for college, but how it would go further in life? Not only am I finding it applicable, but even more obvious. On the basis of our shared culture and shared backgrounds, Peace Corps Volunteers, at least in Niger, bind ourselves together on this adventure. And it becomes fierce, a level of friendship and (to be honest) dependence that makes family seem like quite the word for it.

And so, I say goodbye to my sister(?) Steph. You were only a short time with this absurd, sorority family thing we have in Zinder, but you were oh-so welcome, oh-so wanted, and are oh-so missed. It was hard to say goodbye and, in the coming weeks and months, will be hard to not come in and say hi. We love you.

And, in the off-chance that her family and friends might be reading this, I am so, so sorry for your loss. I only knew her for a short time, but I was eager to get to know her over the next year. God bless.


Sorry for the rambling all. As I said, this is not a typical update, for this is not a typical point in time.

But really, what's life without a coup every now and then?

Well, we’ve had some quasi-major action going on since last update, so here goes.

And so, my return to ville was on February 18^th, a day that turned out to be rather important as there was a military coup d’état that afternoon. Sounds like something to be a big deal to a country, no? At least, I would have thought so, until later that day when everyone had heard about it, I noticed that besides the talk about the subject, there has been no chance in the daily lives of the vast majority of my villagers. The only major change I’ve noticed was that there was to be a changeover at my Mairie (to see a photo of which, look several months back), in which the political persons have exhausted their term and will therefore be leaving. However, that has since changed slightly so that the Mayor is staying temporarily, but the vice-mayor and other councilmen are now gone. The hired staff will remain, keeping up with the day-to-day responsibilities of local government. But at least as of the time that I’m writing this, these things have yet to be fully realized, so I’m still not fully sure what’s going on or how things will run in actuality. Further news relative to the CSRD, there were recently some arrests in Niamey of some Ministers and others who are accused of having conspired against the CSRD/government.

So now, with this little coup event that transpired, my time in this country has officially been under three different governments. I came in under the 5^th Republic. Last fall we had the referendum which pushed us into the 6^th Republic (and extending then-President’s mandate for an additional three years). And now, we are under the Conseil Suprême pour la Restauration de la Démocratie (CSRD). The plan is that we will, in the as-yet undefined future, be having elections. And then there will be another issue, as to what government we will be under, will this be a return to the 5^th, will be going forward to the 7^th, or will we be in the 6^th (considering CSRD doesn’t consider the 6^th to have yet existed). Makes for an interesting situation and a fun mind-puzzler while at the same time making me thankful of the peaceful political situation we have back in the States. No matter what the arguments that have gone on for the last 200+ years, we have a stability I hadn’t thought to appreciate until coming here and seeing ‘African Democracy’.

Other news here revolves around the food issue and weather. I haven’t heard that it was officially declared, but Niger is facing a major food security crisis this year. They have already broke open the grain banks to sell the staple foods (mostly millet, but also rice and sorghum) at a reduced price (i.e.-people only pay 13000 CFA for a bag of rice, not the 23000 CFA one finds in market), something that I’m being told usually isn’t done for another month or so. People are saying that this will make things harder down the road when people are waiting for the crops to yield their fruit; hopefully the food situation (with the aid of foreign aid) will be kept manageable up till harvest time. As far as weather is concerned, we had a nasty dusty period a few weeks back, wind was whipping through blowing sand and dust into the air which covered the sun enough to be able to look at it (did keep things a bit cooler), but which also covered every square inch of my throat, making everyone complain of dry and sore throats. That has since died down, heralding the hot season, in which we have once clocked 112, several 108s, and a daily high consistently above 100. Nights fall to between low and upper 80s. Happy news on the horizon however, I have started seeing clouds crossing the sky. As yet, nothing serious, and nothing even considering rain, but it’s showing me a light at the end of the tunnel. There will be an end to this ungodly heat (good thing for my service as it is hard to do any real work in the hours that make up the heat of the day).

And now that I believe I have those things somewhat covered, on we go to a discovery I have made, of which I am extremely pleased. As it is, I’m the only Christian in my town. Such a thing tends to make Christian fellowship/community difficult to manage, as one might expect. Many thanks to my father who downloaded sermon podcasts and put them on an iPod and sent to me, such truly has been a blessing to keep me grounded in faith, but there is yet lacking a community to see and touch. However, to my great pleasure and joy, it turns out that there is a church in a city about 60km from me. I have now attended three services there, the last one being on Easter Sunday. I thought I should probably try to write about that, thinking that some (hopefully my church friends at the least) might appreciate knowing about the differences I’ve noticed.

The congregation has usually been around 20-25 adults, 10-12 youth, and the flock of young kids that follow their parents. The adults break down into a few more men than women. Small side note, as a response to a question I asked, I found out that all the women that attend are either wives of another churchgoer or widows, whereas there is at least one guy whose wife is a Moslem. Not great numbers to make a statistical analysis, but this makes sense relative to what I would expect in this culture, in that it would be much harder for a woman to break out into a new religion, whereas the man, as head of household, has the cultural freedom to do a lot more as he feels led to. As I said, side note. Also in attendance at the church are missionary families, currently one Australian and one American. I can’t possibly describe how awesome it was to find I could speak English the first time I visited.

The service starts with a prayer followed by songs. Most of the songs are simply translations of random hymns I’ve never heard of into Hausa, to which we are supposed to sing along to the original tune. There is occasionally music provided by a keyboard and drums, but it is mostly vocals. Through my missionary connections, I borrow a hymnal (they are all words only) and we then follow the melody provided mostly from one woman (though how she knows the melody, I don’t know. Heck she could simply be making it up.) Songs consist of several picked out prior to service as well as some that congregants ask for.

After the hymns, the ladies provide the music for two more songs, and following them is the youth’s turn. Their turn is broken into a trio of young girls who do a song as well as the full youth group doing some songs.

Sandwiched in near the end of all this singing is a time where the children are led to the front of the congregation where they each recite bible verses. After we applaud them (Sannu da Aiki! Yayi Kyau!), they are led out of the church to do whatever the lady who helps with them has them do (they have already had a Sunday school-ish time before the service started). We then pass around the offering sack (just one little guy for a little congregation), we finish up this portion by a another song or two.

The service then moves into sermon time. We start with a prayer and then launch into a mini-version of their greetings. The sermons are presented bilingually by pairs, with the leader speaking in Hausa and then pausing for the other to translate into French. As the entire bible has been translated into Hausa (I’m not sure when that happened, have been meaning to ask so as to satisfy my curiosity), the service can come from any book the pastor wants as he can easily be matched by the French translation of the bible. After the first sermon, the Hausa speaker sits down, the pastor who had done the French translation steps over to what I’m now nick-naming the Hausa podium while another steps up to the newly-dubbed French podium. Another sermon is then presented in the same manner, talking in Hausa followed by talking in French, bible verse in Hausa followed by bible verse in French, en suite en suite. I know that at least these last two have received biblical education, not sure about the first Hausa-speaker. At the end of the second sermon, we share in prayer and then, if it happens to be the first Sunday, we take communion. If not, we then move finish with the prayer and move around the building, shaking hands and greeting everyone. Somewhat strange to see at first, but I did note that all the guys greet all the women, something I found surprising at there is a significant population in the culture who don’t shake hands with women but do greetings from a short distance. After we finish the not-insignificant greetings time, everyone goes off in their separate way. In all, the service seems to be something around a 2-hour affair.

As a side note, I find it to be amazingly interesting just how similar people’s characters are between the US and Niger. Yes, there are the major social/cultural differences, but still some things just fall out in much the same way. For a wonderful example, the “children’s music” portion of the service is nothing but reminiscent of the same at my church stateside. There are kids standing with their arms crossed while others swing their arms and still others actually following the motions, kids not knowing any of the words while others know the words and then vary the degree to which they actually move their mouth, kids waving to their parents, kids pulling on the sleeves of others, etc. Just one example of just how similar I’m finding people to be regardless of where we come from.

And here are some pictures of the church. The first is obviously of the outside. It is done with the traditional mud bricks.

For this inside shot, you can see where the men sit on the left hand side on plastic chairs (which had already been stacked up and put away by the time i took this picture), the women on the right on the pews, and the youth to the side of the podium. The guy up front, yeah, not any official person in the church, simple a member who wanted to be in a picture.














And at this point, I believe I have everything I specifically wanted to talk about, though I have been rereading this post so much that I'm now forgetting what I have put on here and what I may have forgotten. Weird how that happens.

Hope all is well back home. Say hi to the rain for me (though I will hopefully be getting some soon enough, whenever that may be).

News from mid-February

Well, IST(In-Service Training) is now over. Late January, my entire stage came into Niamey for a three-week training designed to give us more practical knowledge after our first few months of life in ville. We all enjoyed seeing each other, hanging out with people we haven’t seen for four months, enjoying the pause snacks at the training site, playing volleyball after classes until dark, and (only three days late) watching the Superbowl together (GO SAINTS!).
Week one was devoted to sharing our experiences, telling what we have already done, and sitting in on some sessions to further our knowledge in our respective sectors (CYE or MCD). Week two was the Language week, a very helpful time that gave a base of learning for speaking either a local language or French, depending upon what the individual wanted. Personally, I was in the lowest of the low Hausa course, a very good thing considering I currently don’t speak it. At the end of the week, we had been given a basic grammar/sentence structure and had learned the three tense conjugations. So after that crash course, I have at least the basics and, with the help of villagers, can learn verbs and vocabulary to be able to speak the language. Week two also had some tech sessions and guest speakers, so time was split (unfortunately for me, as I was wanting nigh on every class to be a language). Week three kicked off the Homologue Conference, a two-day event in which we reviewed with our chosen counterpart how to assess community needs as well as some basic project designs. Also, we created a rough timeline for the upcoming months, stating the goals and objectives we all expect to meet over the next bit of time. My counterpart couldn’t come, unfortunately, so I wasn’t able to do all that everyone else was able to do (re: collaboration with HCN). IST ended this last Friday, and we were then given some time to talk with our APCDs and any other admin staff that we needed in order to be prepared for our next stretch of service.
I will soon be heading back out to Zinder, and as a little schedule for you guys, my next few months in ville will consist of continuing to learn Hausa, implementing some small projects (i.e.- English clubs, maybe eventually a radio show, etc.), and talking with villagers and determining the level of support the community shows towards some certain ideas and larger projects. As Peace Corps volunteers, we’ve heard and been taught on maintaining sustainability when it comes to project ideas as we will soon enough be leaving the community which will then have to take complete control over the project (unless we are replaced) and who must therefore have a vested interest in its success, a desire to keep it going, and (whenever possible) the means to keep it going. And let’s not forget the Girls’ Soccer Tournament that we are having for eight middle schools in Zinder region that will cover the weekend of the 28th and March 7th. All this is to say that it looks like I have a fair few things to do over the coming months.
I’m now going to jump back to what happened before I left ville, because we had some entertaining stuff roll through just as I left, namely la lutte traditionnelle, the traditional wrestling that they practice as (or so it seems) the dominant sport in this country. My ville was hosting the event for the department this year, and so I got to see lots of wrestling. And, whether because of my anasara status, or that I’ve made friends with the important people in my ville, I was given a good seat from which I was able to take lots of video on my camera. My current small project is joining them all together to make a video to give to the mairie. It was a really fun event to watch, including the music entertainment (though that did become annoying and loud rather quickly). The rules of lutte are varied from the free-style we have back in the States. All it takes to lose is to have either an elbow or knee touch the ground, so the rounds had the potential to be over in just 10 seconds (though there were times where the participants were trying to bore us all by taking 3+ minutes to do nothing). My ville was hosting the departmental lutte competition to choose the competitors who would go on to represent the department in the national competition (which, incidentally, started just yesterday in Zinder and will be going for about another week).
Well, we are now mostly splitting up to go our separate ways, which not many are terribly happy about as we have all grown fond of each other over PST and IST (being the Americans that we all started this crazy adventure with, from Philly to now). On the other hand, I know I’m not the only one wanting to get back to my village. Three weeks out from my home life is a lot, and I’m ready to get back into the cycle of things.