I wish I would have updated this site more often but sadly there is no undoing time and now here I am a RPCV (although the R = returned) is not quite so true. I am still in Niger but within a week I will be back with a Nigerien fiance by my side. But, I do plan on backtracking a little with the help of my journal as well as this recent motivation for writing. I think I have become inspired by all the African memoirs I have been reading lately, not to mention the extra amount of spare time I have had lately. Thus, "The Day I..." was conceived and I envision it being a (re)collection of short stories from my experiences in Niger. So here's an excerpt from my own personal African memoir which in truth I write for myself since memory is infallible but I would be lying if one day I didn't hope to publish it. But for now it remains in my ever expanding notebook, in my journal, and in my heart.

"The Day I Got Rained on Inside a Bush Taxi"

Whoever would willingly choose to enter a bush taxi on a rainy day is either stupid, desperate, or just really bored. Already most of the seventeen passenger vans are ill-equipped to still be on the road. This scenario is worsened by the fact that these taxis often hold more than 17 passengers, are usually piled high with baggage (sometimes even doubling the height of the vehicle) and are most often seen going at breakneck speed.

On this particular day I was just too stubborn to let the rain ruin my plans of spending the day in the capital. When I left my house the rain had abated yet the sky was still threatening with its black clouds encroaching on the white fluffy and hazy blue clouds to the east. I waited for a bit as I expected I would since rarely do taxis make the trip all the way to my side of Kollo, and even more rare do they make this extra 2 kilometer trip while it is raining. Luck was with me and I didn't have to wait more than 5 minutes when a taxi rolled up. I squeezed myself into an additional seat in the aisleway. It wasn't the most comfortable position as the hip of the large lady next to me were pushing firmly against my own hip. Once we arrived in the center of town a few people descended and I could move to a much more comfortable spot, a move which would prove to be a little bit foolish.

I didn't realize until the rain started to pick up again that the left side window was not complete. What should have been two sliding windows was only one and the woman behind me and the girl sitting to my left quickly pulled it towards her so the rain wouldn't hit her but would slap me in the face and completely soak the front of my clothes. I couldn't really protest because she had got there first and putting the sliding window in a different position might only splatter the raindrops differently across my face. In these situations there's not much one can do. I put my bag behind my back, leaned forward and as out of the line of fire as possible and then I took in the sights of my last rainy season in Niger.

In between Kollo (my village) and Libore (a neighboring village) there is a strip of land that has now been flooded with live sustaining water. Normally this strip is a barren sand bed but now it is lush with all kinds of greenery. Grass, corn, and millet are beginning to stand taller than I do. They lean in the wind and the rain pushes down on their leaves. I love seeing camels appear out of nowhere to graze or drink. They are a welcome site as compared to the more often seen cows, goats, and sheep. The water is so swollen today that even the little sand bars where the women come to wash their clothes and dishes is completely submerged. There is only two small children today braving the rain to wash dishes. They let the dishes float onto the water and they quickly submerse them in the water. It looks deeper than it must actually be otherwise they would surely lose these dishes. But their experienced hands work fast and they don't even look bothered by the rain. They are half clothed and I wonder if their skin has goosebumps as bad as mine does.

"The Day I Got Spat on"

There is a common misconception during the month of Ramadan, a holy time of fasting and prayer, that while abstaining from drinking one must also constantly spit so as not to DRINK! I have heard some debate among villagers as to what this means. Most believe you must only spit if your mouth is full and there is phlegm. Others spit almost every other minute, pausing only to chew on sticks which supposedly help them curb their hunger. I stand adamantly on the side that says it is NOT necessary to spit. We salivate naturally and for a reason.

This stance is now even firmly upheld after returning from the market last week. I was walking into the motor park, where all the bush taxis wait. I was taking a shortcut to my inspection when all of the sudden a man turned and spat on me. He was just as surprised as I was although I feigned not noticing so he could save face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him prepare to grovel and apologize but I just kept walking. It's funny how after two years in a country, certain things no longer phase you. I knew it wasn't intentional but all I wished I could have said to him was to look both ways before unloading a mouthful of spit.

On this day of celebrating thanks, I begin to list in my head the things I am thankful for. The list is topped by my friends and family who have encourage and supported me so much through this journey otherwise known as Peace Corps (and life on the grandest scale). There have been some hard times and without these people I may not have stayed in Niger as long as I have. With the situation here, we are consolidated outside of our villages and were barely given a chance to inform our communities that our absence would be prolonged by factors beyond their or our control. I am thankful that I was placed in a village that is so open and accepting. I am not forced to completely change my cultural identity. While I am respectful of theirs they are also reciprocal. They love when I dress up but they know I don't have to. I am thankful to have found so many adoptive families here. I know in my heart that if I had to leave tomorrow I'd always have a place to come back to, wouldn't even need to bother with informing them. I'm thankful to have found such a patient and understanding fiance. There are many people who don't understand our connection but we both understand where the other is coming from. Never did I imagine that the superlative from training would be true ( I was voted "most likely to marry a host country national") I am thankful that I have the means to take care of myself as well as the people close to me here. I also want to take care of my friends in America but that will require lots of patience.

Oh what a crazy whirlwind this month is turning out to be. I had settled back into life after returning from my American vacation in August. The months have flown by and I find myself already in November eagerly looking forward to the fete Tabaski. This is seventy days after the end of Ramadan (the month of fasting). Imagine a country wide BBQ. My favorite part is the fried sheep meat … this is the only way I will eat entrails because they become unrecognizable and they taste like bacon. Sadly, it seems as if I will not be in my village.

There have been some security issues in this dear country of mine. Luckily, nothing in my region but we have a nationwide security plan which we are all subject to no matter where the threat is. So, I find myself with my team and we are all lacking information. This is not the fault of our staff because they are bending over backwards trying to accommodate us and to find information. So far, this is day 4 of consolidation. I am even luckier because a guard at our bureau lives in my village and I’m sending some bush notes with him to update my coworkers, neighbors, and my fiancé. Oh yes, so here is the official announcement. I didn’t plan on coming out with it until the new year but the circumstances and options are rapidly changing. Moctar and I are engaged. We are working on his paperwork to get a fiancé visa meaning that once he arrives in America we have three months to marry. We are planning a traditional ceremony for friends in family here in Niger which I pray will still be able to happen this July or August.

With all my newfound free time I am getting myself into planning mode. Keep your fingers crossed that these problems will resolve quickly and I want have to end my service before intended, thus leaving behind a fiancé who depends on me to walk him through all this American paperwork. Pray for my ability to be patient because I severely lack in that department. Look for pictures on facebook!

This has been one of the busiest and most tiring weeks of my Nigerien life. My dad and brother, Andrew, arrived in Niger around (my guess) 4 AM on Tuesday. My neighbor, Cheikna, and I had come from Kollo to meet them at the airport. We decided to drive into Niamey around 9 PM so we could eat dinner and be ready. Cheikna underestimated how tired he would be so after we ate we ended up in a parking lot behind a friend’s house, me “sleeping” in the car and him on the ground between two cars with my mosquito net attached to their hoods. Unfortunately for me, the mosquitoes were out in full force. I haven’t been bit so bad since my first night in Kollo (last September).

Finally, at 5 AM I finally saw my brother’s little mohawked head. Customs is crazy slow but they were in Niamey. I forgot to mention how bummed I was by Air Morocco changing their flight so they had to spend to days in Paris rather than with me. We pulled into Kollo a little after the first prayer call and just before the sun had completely risen. Omar and Boubacar helped take their bags off the roof of the car and we sat down. I was giddy since (they were here) they had brought me so many goodies aka … beef jerky, popcorn outlet Columbus mix, toys, tuna, all kinds of stuff. I let dad get some sleep and I took Andrew with me, by bush taxi, to Niamey to exchange their money.

Lucky for Andrew we got cabine (the front seat of the bush taxi … with the driver). He didn’t have to sweat next to a complete stranger. Andrew’s hairstyle proved to be quite the attraction. We stopped to take on some passengers and I greeted two women who were staring at us annasaras (white people). One of the ladies asked me what I was doing with a Foolani (a tribe in Niger). Apparently, both fulans and Touaregs have Mohawks. I nicely told them it was no Fulan, it was my brother. They had a great laugh.

Niamey went off without a hitch. We got a city cab to the bank and I showed him the grand and petit marches. We exchanged the money and walked next door to Amendines for some pain au chocolat. We stopped at score for some drink mixes and Gouda cheese …. I had hot money in my pocket so I had to indulge myself a little, right? The bush taxi ride back to Kollo was the exact opposite experience. We were crammed all the way in the back sweating like crazy. We made it back to my house and Andrew crashed immediately on my couch … We didn’t hear a peep from him for the next 5 hours. My boyfriend, Moctar, stopped by and brought lunch for us. It was spaghetti with sauce and 2 huge chickens. It was delicious and so sweet of him. He really liked my dad and they got along great despite the language barrier.

After naptime we walked all the way to Moctar’s house to meet with his family. Moctar even saw us on our way. He was going to buy drinks for us and he passed me on the motorcycle. I told him if he caught us again on his way back that I wanted him to take Andrew on the motorcycle since he’d never ridden one before. Sure enough, just as we were passing the mosque, Moctar showed up. Dad and I kept walking to the house … man it felt much further away with the sun beating down on us. But at least the crazy man had stopped following and shouting at us. When we all met up we watched TV and chatted with Moctar’s dad … I translated. They were both falling asleep but there were no problems. When it came time to go Moctar offered to take us back by motorcycle. I told him not to worry about me and my brother but that he should just take my dad back. He refused so and Andrew and I took a seat outside waiting for our turns. This is why I love this man. He’s so considerate. I can’t imagine how much gas he used up … but I insisted on repaying him (he wouldn’t let me so a few days later I sent him the amount of gas money in the form of cell phone credit insisting it was from my dad).

I told my dad not to eat too much since we were going to my neighbor’s (Cheikna) house for lunch. They made niebe which the typical rice and beans dish. We ate and brought some back for the sleeper. One thing about Niger and hospitality – you will NEVER go hungry when you are someone’s guest. In fact you will be fed so much for your first meal that it will become increasingly different to eat ANY subsequent meals. Just ask Dad and Andrew for verification. I had planned fari masa and sauce for dinner but due to a communication error we now had TWO dinners planned. My friend Hayatou didn’t understand that I said the next night we were coming to his house so his dad rushed out and bought everything for his wives (yes, he has two) to prepare. I felt bad not eating some of the fari masa even though it would still be good in the morning so Dad and I went and each had two. It was delicious and I know that in twenty minutes my dad and Andrew would be suffering from some serious gastric issues. Hayatou’s family went all out for us. Korba Korba, macaroni with sauce, tea, coffee, coke, fried sweet potatoes, chicken!

I’m a bad daughter! I forgot to warn them about the food issues and how to say they were full and be serious. So, as I was hiding in my little corner with my now empty plate, Hayatou’s dad was scooping more and more onto their plates. Finally, after coke, leemu hari, and coffee we rolled ourselves back down the street to my house. I almost prayed for vomit to ensue so that my stomach would feel better. No such luck but I popped some Tums and was alright.

The next day we went to my inspection. On the way I stopped so we could chat with one of my English speaking friends. They loved their Niger experience but I think they wished they could have talked more with everyone. But luckily language barriers don’t stop interaction possibilities …. Greetings and handshakes are huge here. Andrew was fascinated by that concept. We brought popcorn and toothbrushes for my coworkers and then continued on to my counter part’s house. Again we ate so much. They brought us egg sandwiches … silly me I thought this was the lunch … it was just the appetizer. They made us sweet potato fries and chicken (the theme for the week, apparently). Luckily the fries were Andrew’s favorite meal. Before lunch was served we played my favorite card game – huit americains (think uno/crazy 8’s).

Again, they were so full and Abdou’s house is so far that I decided to take them home by bush taxi. Andrew and my dad got cabine and I sat in the back. It wasn’t even close to full. That night we took it easy and ate at Cheikna’s house. Omar was so excited to meet my brother. The poor kid kept coming over but it was always when we were resting. But he took Andrew to go play soccer with him and Boubacar. The only downside to having guests that brings presents are all the unlucky people that don’t receive the gifts … so many people came knocking at my door.

Andrew wore the bubu (men’s long shirt garment) that I brought for him complete with his pink prayer cap. He looked really good. Unfortunately, the one I bought for my dad was too small. When we got to Cheikna’s Maman even put Andrew in a turban and me in a sahari (the Touareg women’s wrap dress).

Wednesday night we went to the river with Cheikna. I had planned to take the kids too and go in a canoe. Well, the kids had pissed Cheikna off so much with their fighting that they were now banned from the trip so it was just the four of us. My dad didn’t want to get in the canoe so my brother and I set off. Unfortunately, the men were not as good at moving the ship as the first man had been. I thought we were going to tip twice. Luckily, we didn’t but we did hit some sandbars. I didn’t realize the water would be that shallow almost in the middle of the river (especially the day after it rained).

Thursday was the most laid back. We didn’t even leave INRAN (my neighborhood) until 5PM. We had lunch at Moctar’s sister’s house. She lives down the street from me and right next to Hayatou. She served them a plate and didn’t force them to eat which they seriously appreciated. She even let us watch her wedding video. That night we ate at Cheikna’s again but this time it was only me. I bought sweet potatoes and meat for them and I told Maman that I’d be the only one eating the maca. Hayatou came over and watched American Dreamz with us. Andrew and I couldn’t sleep so we wended up talking until 2 AM.

At 640 the next morning the car from the inspection arrived (early) to take us to Hamdallaye to visit the training site and my host family. I had planned on spending the night with them but my host dad surprised me and said we’d be sleeping on site in the infirmary where there’s air conditioning. I think Hamdy was my favorite part of the trip. The town is so much quieter and all the people I needed to see came to me. I was so happy to see my host brother, Ismael, back from school in Mali. He’s even planning a visit chez moi in Kollo. We hung out under the hangar and had pop and tea. The tea was too strong for my dad and brother but I drank for them.

The rain has returned and so has the green. I didn't realize how much I missed the color of life. I was riding into Niamey this morning and I couldn't believe how different the landscape looked. I was last in the city two weeks ago and the whole route looks different. Not to mention the amount of dead frogs in the road. I don't mind it though ... it's one less croaking in the middle of the night. I had recently taken to sleeping outside again. I finally found a way of attaching my mosquito net ... this process is actually performed by my friend, Hayatou since he is tall enough to attach the rope to the nail on my wall.

Rainy season also has marked the return of the creepy crawlers. Speaking of insects, I HATE crickets and ciccadas. They are magnets to hair! Sadly, this means that as soon as night falls and I hear the ending theme to Au Coeur du Peche I head inside. I can't even stay long enough to eat dinner. I have to come back for it or the kids bring it to my window. Well, that was until I saw my first snake and now Henett refuses to set foot near my house in the dark.

One night I heard my dog, Leila, barking (sidenote – it takes me much longer to write blogs now as all my words want to exit my mouth in French first ... grr!) I opened the door to see what was wrong. Usually her barking means someone is at my door or she's just crazy. I noticed there was something skinny and black coiled into the nook of my front door. I slammed it shut as quick as I could. Not too eventful thankfully.

With the coming rainy season is also the coming of a new group of people to Niger. I can hardly believe I've been here a year already. It's been full of ups and downs but I'm making it. Sometimes I feel like I'll live with nothing to show (physically) of the work I've done. I haven't had much luck or patience with the avenues for funding. My counterpart is also not very receptive to projects that don't require funding. Luckily I have a great group of friends and neighbors who are always willing to go along for the ride and to take in what I have to offer. Informal activities are my saving grace in this country.

I still go to my inspection (almost) every day but I spend less time there. I go to the middle/high school and make an effort to talk with the professors. I am hoping to start an English club next school year. I have started another project. I'm afraid to even start looking for funding ... this is always the hardest step. The project is a micro-finance group for women in a village called Seikoukou. They organized themselves and have already pulled together enough money to begin constructing a little store. Hopefully, I will be able to help them find funding for a roof. I'll get more information out as soon as I get it translated. I am most likely going to do a Peace Corps partnership fund which means my fellow Americans will be able to help me out.

It is almost vacation time and I absolutely cannot wait to eat myself into a coma as soon as I get back to America, hello Chipotle! But I am more excited for the arrival of my dad and brother to Niger. They will spend a week with me eating, sleeping, and hanging out like I do. It's one thing to see pictures and hear stories but it is quite another to actually get to experience it firsthand. I can't wait for the day they get here. We're going to have a big lunch of fari masa with chicken and sauce. Then I'm taking them to the river to go on a perogue (fishing canoe).

Ten months in country and here I am making my first trip out East… in fact, my venture out of my region. Trekking across Niger in the back of a Peace Corps ambulance is not the African safari one might envision. There’s not much in the way of scenery. Lots of red sand, dry bushes, a village scattered here and there. There are no lions, no elephants, and no giraffes. Rather the animals on MY Nigerien safari are goats, cows, and donkeys.

Although it’s not quite what I imagined when I heard I’d be living in Africa, there is one undeniable fact. There is a majestic presence in the simplicity of the terrain and its inhabitants. Now, when I use the word simple I do not mean, “oh the simple minded Africans” because in reality the culture here is much more layered and complex. But simple in the vast majority of people expect nothing of you except a sincere greeting. Most Americans would think they’re being taken when someone immediately opens up their home, their world, and their life to them but that is just Niger’s nature.

We pass a small grove, a miniscule oasis. I notice the building shapes have changed. Where I live most building are rectangular where as now the buildings are circular. There is still a lot of mud housing but there is more architecture involving millet stalk. The shape of the buildings tells a lot about the socio-economic status of the village. Rectangular, mud buildings signify a wealthier area.

I stopped writing because the road got bumpy. I arrived in Konni with no problems. The hostel here is just a little different than ours. The biggest difference is that bathroom and shower areas are outside. I wasn’t planning on using a latrine again but you do what you gotta do. The hostel even has a dog! The tallest and sweetest dog in Niger... his name is Gouley. I had hoped to go out with my demysters and see their villages but it didn’t work out that way. My second plan was to go home with a volunteer from my stage. But, she lives pretty far and I’m a somewhat nervous traveler. So I ended up just staying in Konni at the hostel. It worked out in the end because I saw 2 people I knew (one from Hamdallaye and one from Niamey).

On Monday night my friend Karimou beeped me (call and hang up). I hadn’t talked to him in awhile so I decided to call him back. I asked him how his family was (his wife just had a baby a month ago) and he asked me what I was up to. When I told him I was on vacation in Konni he told me that our mutual friend Hama was also in Konni for work. Later that night I got a call from an unknown number. It was HAMA! I was so excited. Karimou must have called to let him know.

The next night Hama came to the hostel to pick me up and show me where he lived and works. It was so close to the hostel. It was so good to see Hama. I know he likes me but we’re able to maintain our friendship. I call him my crazy (ay follokom) and we always end up laughing. I also spent Wednesday night with Hama and some of his friends from work. We talked about all kinds of things and I just looked up at the starts feeling completely content.

Wow - so in one week I will be 23! I joke with people that I'm officially old and while I know that it's not true ... I can't help but feeling a little old. Speaking of old, Joshua (my youngest brother) turned seven yesterday. What a little man! I am trying to think of another time when I've been on my own for my birthday. College doesn't really count because you go out with your friends and I still managed to see my family on or around the actual day.

Here I am in Niger, almost at the 23rd and though I am surrounded by friends and a surrogate family here I still can't help but feeling a little homesick. This feeling is compounded by the stress stemming from a lack of measurable success. I feel perfecftly content knowing that I am VERY integrated but if someone happened to look at me in Kollo they might think all I do is hang out. The truth is I've got so many ideas, even a few in real stages of movement (i.e. awaiting funding, permission from school directors) but for whatever reason nothing is completely getting off the ground. Now, this lesson has been pounded into our heads since day one. I know things are slow but I want so bad to be able to feel a huge success.

For the moment, I am counting all my small successes (these are probably the ones I'll remember most, anyways) such as being able to have a complete conversation in Zarma, being greeted by almost everyone on my way to work, cadeaus, kids art ...

Also, I want to thank everyone who have been sending letters and packages. They make my weeks and months here. Just a funny story to share. A few packages ago I received a bag of Skittles. Now I had been craving these so bad that as soon as I got home I ripped open the bag and went through 1/4 of it. Now, in the heat of the moment this seemed like a good day.... The rest of the night I spent moaning on my couch about a tummy ache (this was in between the fitful boughts of sugar-induced coma). But true to form, I repeated this same action four days in a row. I can't really tell you if I honestly expected different results.

Now recent activities:

In a bid to have something concrete to do each day (besides making an appearance at my inspection) I am trying to host an English study table and club. The director was making it very hard on me to just do the table like I wanted (an open forum for students to come to me ... on school grounds ... for help with homework). He wanted me to lock a number down for a group but I struck a compromise and am now doing both a club and a study table. But - I won't know for another week if he'll actually let me use the (abandoned) library as my workspace. None the less I am excited to have something to plan and look forward to three times a week!

I have one field trip and one book club waiting on funding. Keep your fingers crossed. I am still researching book donation sources as well as trying to carve out details on an art project I want to do. My neighborhood kids love drawing with me and I want to do something with that.

I also recently got to host two demysters (demystification was when the trainees got to spend a weekend with a volunteer to see what life is like for them). This wasn't quite typical since the two new volunteers were transfers from Madagascar. They had been there for 9 months but none the less it was a good time. I literally gained 3 pounds from all the food. My counterpart made us hashed chicken and kudu ku (sweet potato fries). My neighbor made us chicken and rice, and another neighbor made us masa and macaroni with meat sauce. We walked around Kollo and stopped at all my usual hang outs. We went to the Sunday market and took a tour of the river. That was a first for me and I enjoyed it as much as they did. We followed it up with dance parties on my porch to Nigerien music. Don't forget all the leemy haari (mmm popsicles)

As normal, she awoke seven minutes before the cry of her alarm. For whatever reason it was always seven minutes. She could accept this as a sacrifice. She was content that after only three weeks in country she could sleep through the first call to prayer, you know, the one at five AM. The first day in her village was the only time this immunity failed her. Granted, she was not accustomed to the loud speaker that screeched and crackled. If, “Allahou Ahkbar…” were the words she were to wake up to she would have much preferred to hear her neighbor’s deep, flowing voice like in Hamdallaye.

She flopped over, momentarily surprised when she didn’t hear the creak of her Hausa bed beneath her weight. Then she remembered, “I’m in Kollo now. I have a real house and a REAL bed”. A sleepy smile crept across her face. She most certainly did not miss having to set up her bed every day. Chalk it up to American laziness following her to Niger. However, sleeping outside had fascinated her for at least the first few weeks in country.

In Hamdallaye, she would carry her mattress out of her hut and place it on the twin sized Linkin’ Logs set also known as a “Hausa bed”. She would unfold her sheet, lay her pillow down, and throw anything else in that she didn’t want to try and hold when she would eventually squeeze under her mosquito net. Most days she was diligent about performing this task before night fell and the insects emerged. Crickets were the worst. They would fling themselves recklessly onto her half raised net, her clothes, and (wretch) her hair.

After the masa incident her third week of training, crickets were public enemy number one. She had ventured to the market that rainy morning craving the millet griddlecakes with sugar AND tonko. With her prize in hand she walked up to the training site, her mouth watering the whole way. If she had been in America she would have devoured the bag on her walk. But, in Niger, eating while walking was considered a faux pas most likely due to the social nature of mealtime.

She finished most of the masa in the refectoire but took the rest with her to French class. As soon as she put the cake into her mouth she knew something was different. She pulled the stiff, prickly culprit off of her tongue and examined it. Wedged between her thump and pointer finger was the leg of a cricket!! “Please let me find the rest of this,” she repeated rapidly in her head. Sure enough, a legless cricket (most likely steamed to death) lay at the bottom of the plastic bag. She looked to her teacher for sympathy. The woman was scared of caterpillars for goodness sake. Yet there was no sympathy to be found. In its’ place was a stifled smile. She had nearly choked on the one thing the teacher was not afraid of. Go figure, the irony tickled her pink. Maria was not scared, she said, “Because we eat crickets here.”

Chuckling at the memory, she turned onto her back and sat up, the fan blasting her in the face. In two swift sweeps she gathered her hair, having slightly dampened from perspiration during the night, from her neck and into a hair tie. Mornings were her favorite part of the day, even more so during the month of Ramadan. She would walk to her inspection, the heat would be minimal, and her villagers would be in full swing. Their stomachs were still full from having gorged between 4:30 and 5:30 AM. Fatigue wouldn’t set in until at least eleven when the heat began to oppress.

With each day she was more confident with her greetings. “Mate ni kani? … Mate gaham? … Mate goyo? … Mate fu?” She loved the way they threw the greetings together, barely waiting for the response of, “samay samay” (fine, fine). It felt like a competition and she was just glad she could finally be a contestant. If only she had a 100 CFA piece for every time she’d heard, “kala suuru” (have patience). In reality, language was the largest barrier. As an education volunteer she needed French but as a member of her village she needed Zarma. Her situation was a little more complicated than most. At the start of training she had been a Hausa speaker. Once again, this change in plans turned out to be a worthwhile sacrifice. But it was the times when she couldn’t find the words in either Zarma or French when she suffered in silence, literally. These moments, even though rare, deeply affected her identity … my identity.

I’m coming home (for a little while anyways). There are only 131 short days until I step foot in Ohio. I believe that I have reached the point of integration. The “When There is no PCMO” (Peace Corps Medical Officer) handbook says there are 4 stages of cultural adaptation. The first is being fascinated and excited by the things that are new. The second is when this excitement is replaced by frustration. The third stage is when you are in your post and you are taking the first steps to integration i.e. practicing your language as well as trying AND failing at cultural activities. The final stage is when you can successfully navigate your community and culture.

So I can only imagine that I will have to go through these four stages again when I get back to America. Only this time I will be on warp speed. I mean I only have three weeks to re-adjust … momentarily… to American culture. I’ve already accepted the fact that I will probably end up crying at least ten times. I started reading a book by Brigid Keenan titled, “Diplomatic Baggage”. Granted I am NOT an ex-pat wife but I can completely understand her angle of uprooting herself and then having to question her decision she is faced with something new and most of the time scary.

I got to thinking that I’ve really handled the situation well. I’ve been very lucky in that I live in a relatively Westernized area of Niger. I mean, I’m only thirty kilometers from Niamey. I have indoor plumbing (ignore the fact that my water has been cut off for two months) and I don’t have to wear typical Nigerien woman garb unlike some of my peers. Today I was very amused when I started listing off the things that I’ve seen and done that some people would never imagine.

How many people can say that they drink their morning coffee or tea out of a plastic bag? How often do you see a donkey cart trotting along beside a car? And camels? Well, I mean, where do you see them other than in a zoo or on the side of a cigarette carton? Here’s some Western versus Eastern perspective for you:

Each morning I wake up to my cell phone alarm (W)

I ride my bike to my job (W but more eastern since it’s not a car)

I buy my breakfast food from a woman sitting on the side of the road and it comes in plastic bags (E = open cook stoves are not the same as street vendors and how many street vendors do you see in Westerville, OH?)

Every woman around me is covered head to toe in beautiful (HOT) fabrics even though the temperatures almost always surpass 100 degrees F. (E)

Donkey carts (E)

Lack of power and or cell phone coverage from noon until 4 PM (E)

Street children singing in Arabic trying to earn some food (E)

Handicapped and mentally ill people wandering the streets with no help (W/E)

Buttas (for those of you not yet acquainted with this word: it is a plastic tea kettle used to hold word for abolitions during prayer, as well as washing your hands and private parts after using the toilet) (E)

Marriages where the bride and groom aren’t even in the same city (E)

Men mumbling along to American songs thinking they’re all that but you can’t help laughing because they don’t know 1) how to pronounce or 2) the meaning of the words they are attempting to sing. (E)

Eating with my hands (E) but that is cancelled out by the fact that most of the time I am given a spoon.

“Fofo, anassara” – would it ever be acceptable in America to walk down the street and say “greetings white person” … I don’t think so (E)

“Cadeau, cadeau” (E) Westerners like giving gifts but in day-to-day life most things are given as exchanges.

Leemu haari – plastic bag popsicles aka pieces of heaven (E)

Yogurt in a bag (E)

Frarma and franglais (E) people here are so much better with languages.

Items in the market are more expensive for me therefore I have to send a child with my money to shop for me (E)

The obvious nature of communication. “Hey you’re riding your bike to work” … thanks for pointing out what I already know. (E)

Having slow internet is more frustrating than having no internet at all (E)

No markets are indoor except for in regional capitals (E)

Bush taxis = cars that defy all laws of safety yet still manage to get you where you need to go (E)

Tea making requires three cycles with a mini tea pot (E)

The list is funnier in my head but granted, I’m the one who really understands what all this feels like. I try to explain it but without living it a little bit the experience is kind of lost in translation. Kai, quelle dommage! One of my biggest fears is not having anything to talk about when I get home. I mean, I’ll have stories but I don’t know how many of them will be interesting outside of the Peace Corps community. That’s why I hope all of you look at my pictures. Then you can start preparing interesting questions for me to answer (so much easier than me just rambling on).

The things I most look forward to generally revolve around the sharing of culture. I can’t wait to watch a LONG slideshow of all my Africa photos thus far. I can’t wait to give out my souvenirs (jewelry, figurines, clothes, toys), and I especially am very excited to burn CDs of my favorite African music for all my friends.

Another week in Niamey… I hate coming into the city so much but usually I can get in and out without having to spend too much time away from Kollo. This week I am in town for training. I have a volunteer friend who has now extended into a third year of service and she is now working for an NGO called PRAHN. They are associated with CBM. The organization started off servicing the blind in third world countries and eventually came to encompass many other disabilities. I have been really intrigued by the material and I’m hoping I can work on inclusion in Kollo. When I was doing my school observations I noticed that there were some handicapped children, mostly physical handicaps. I know that there are many more children in my village and I wonder why it is that they don’t go to school. The reasons are actually very obvious. The culture that I live in is very influenced by public opinion and shame. There’s a lot of superstition which is something I’ve found very hard to combat.

Unfortunately, I had to miss part of the training today. After 8 months in country I have finally experienced amoebas … dun dun dun … It’s actually not as bad as what I’ve heard. I mean everyone’s different. Apparently, I have iron stomach. I think I’ve actually been sick for awhile but only now was it serious enough to give me cause to check it out. I started my medicine today and aside from stomach cramps I’m doing alright. I’ve stayed most of the day inside our bureau. It was a much better option than the hostel. I mean it’s air conditioned and today it was really quiet.

I am a little more tired today which is no fun. On the rare times I do overnights in Niamey I have dinner at the same place. It’s a little “diner” called Continental Breakfast. I know the whole staff there and most nights we play cards until the place closes down. Tonight I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay out. For one, I’m exhausted and two, they don’t have ANY sort of bathroom, latrine or anything so if I have to go to the bathroom I’d have to make the walk back to the hostel.

This weekend I am taking my friend Ricky back to Kollo with me. That means I’ll probably also follow him back to his village. I have been there before but it was only a twenty minute stop. I’m a nervous traveler (the first time I go anywhere) and then I’m fine. We’re going to hang out with my neighbors and make neibit (rice and beans … delicious). We’ll probably have tea and stay up most of the night. I hope my amoebas don’t block that too much for me!

What have I been up to lately? It feels like forever since I’ve been on the internet but that’s not necessarily true. After IST (I had an amazing time living with my host family again) I participated in camp Hamdallaye. It was weird to be around 30 or so kids who all spoke English. We were working with kids from the American School in Niamey. It was fun but I spent the week in utter misery. I thought this was supposed to be the land of diarrhea. Let me tell you, I would take diarrhea over constipation ANY day.

I ended up rushing myself home just so I could lay in bed and pray for my bowels to start functioning again. Once they did, all was well in Niger (well in my world, that is). I went back to work at the inspection and tried using the internet at IPDR, the technical school. As my luck would have it the electricty cut off right as I was hitting enter to check my email. This has happened on numerous occasions but I was starting to feel cursed. Luckily, the next day I was able to get on. But slow internet is more frustrating than no internet at all.

Okay – now – what I have been up to. I have mostly been laying low, still trying to find more out about where I live. I did more school visits and attended a CAPED meeting which is basically teacher in-service day where they review the curriculum and teacher strategies although not much of this actually happened.

Valentine’s Day was cute. I went to a soiree (dance) at IPDR with a group of friends, one of whom has a crush on me. We danced the night away and I made it back home by 4AM! This is not a usual occurance.

It’s getting hotter and hotter which completely zaps my energy. I used to find reasons to get out and just ride my bike but now its so hot. My puppy is gaining weight. I got her after IST. She was a stray who would always hang around with the gaurds outside our hostel. I told them I wanted her and they caught her for me and kept her until I was ready to go to Kollo. I named her Leila. She’s much more of a happy dog now. She is crazy at night … again a result of the heat I think. She lays wround all day in the shade and then is ready to run when night falls and it cools off. I’ve had some pretty funny looks when I’ve been out walking her. Ticks have also been an interesting new experience. I’d never seen a tick before and one day I was petting Leila when I noticed something green on her neck. I thought it was a tumor but the next day it had disappeared. Then a few days later it was back and I was kind of scared.

I have also planned my trip home! I will get home the 22nd of July and head back to Niger the 10th of August. I am soooo excited but also nervous. I lost 50 pounds and I have a feeling I will be gaining a lot back … I mean the plan for my first night is to hit the Wendy’s in the airport, have a real dinner at Chipotle and pass out after a Tim Horton’s iced cappucino. But, considering I want to look good for Shiree’s wedding I will probably take it easy until the week after her wedding!

Still working on translating mass amounts of half written project ideas … basically I suck at life but I’m having a good time.

I find it funny how many things require plastic bags in this country think clear plastic, no zip locks. For example I literally had one day where everything I ate or drank came from a plastic bag. Breakfast - yogurt in a bag (not my favorite but it was free) beans with mayo and bread (because I went back to the inspection rather than eating it there I was forced to eat out of the bag because there were no utensils or bowls to be found) Lunch - egg sandwich carried home in plastic bag. Leemu hari (Nigerien popsicle in which you bite a corner off the bag and push the icy juice through). Dinner was kudu ku (sweet potatoes) which I bought in the market and then made into hors d'oeurves (think Nigerien potato salad).

Tolerance is a tricky concept. The Nigerien people are constantly telling each other (and me) to "kala suuru" or "say hankuri" which in Zarma and Hausa mean "have patience". What then is tolerance and where is the line between patience and tolerance? Loosely, I can understand tolerance as having the patience and fortitude to accept others, no matter how different they are.

This how reflection started a few weeks ago when a good friend of mine (http://www.sheswhy.org/) asked me about the state of Special Education and Disability services in Niger. From a concrete standpoint, there wasn't much to work on. I did some research and found a report from the US Department of State (http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2003/27742.htm) Under the section of persons with disabilities the report states:

"The Constitution mandates that the State provide for persons with disabilities; however, the Government had not implemented regulations to mandate accessibility to buildings, transportation, and education for those with special needs. Societal discrimination against persons with disabilities existed. Observers reported that many persons with mental disabilities were rejected by their families due to the stigma surrounding mental illness in the country. "

To almost every extent this is still true. There is a stark contrast between Niamey and where I live in Kollo (which in all American standards is not much less than a suburb of Niamey) In the city you see many a person in wheel chairs which actually look like hand pedaled bicycles. There is no obvious attempts for accessability. The roads are hard for cars to travel on and side walks are merely lots of sand that are difficult for the able bodied to trudge through.

In Kollo, the most often seen disability is the "fou(le)" are mentally ill. There is most certainly a stigma to mental illness and most of it stems from ignorance and the conflicting beliefs as to what actually causes mental illness. I have a few personal examples of my experience with the mentally ill in Kollo. The first is of a woman I see every day. She lives outside, wears the same pagne (wrap skirt) everyday and is usually seen talking and laughing to herself or searching through the Ecogar (motorpark) for food. One time I was walking home and she followed me screaming "Ca va, Ca va?" I was a little alarmed more by how loud she was screaming into my ear. A man passing told me to be careful because she thought my bag was food and then he got inbetween us and kicked sand at her. I told him that wasn't necessary and that I could handle myself. A few weeks later I was sitting with a group of friends and I was drawing. The woman was across the street and for whatever reason I am always drawn to this particular woman. I started sketching her. Someone asked me why I would ever want to keep that picture as a memory. I explained to him that just because one person doesn't see beauty or life in another person doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.

Another time I was followed by a young woman in the market. She didn't talk to me but stayed close behind me. I was with my neighbor kids and they were scared to death. They told me to give her money and she would leave me alone. I told them that everything was okay and that they didn't need to worry. They had such fear for a person that it was hard for them to understand. I explained to them in French that I didn't have a reason to fear her because I understood that's how she was born and after I understood that I wasn't scared.

Now for some positive experiences. When I was observing in the schools I paid special attention to see if there were students with disabilities and, if so, what kind of materials were they given to aid the learning process. The second school I visited started off much like the first. They start the day with recreation time where the students go outside and run. One girl sat out because her right leg was a bit shorter which caused her to limp. Most of the time she sat with nothing to do. The teacher then gave her a job of collecting all the other student's snack money. While it gave her something to accomplish, afterwards she went back to doing nothing but watching.

In the class she was very confident and the teacher called on her many times and her answers were always correct. There was little that she couldn't do in class.

I'd be very interested to talk to some teachers about their exposure to pedagogy relating to mental and physical disabilities. For now all I can do is observe and impart my perspective whenever the oppurtunity arises.

I’ll admit that I wasn’t very enthusiastic about the holidays. There’s no snow, it’s hot, my iPod was broken which means no Christmas music. I felt like a Nigerien grinch. Not really … that’s just for effect. BUT, I received a package from my family full of XMas goodies, including a small tree. When I got back to Kollo that night my sisters (this is how I refer to the daughters of my neighbor, Cheikna were beyond excited. My sisters include Messara (25), Henett (17), Talit (12), and Nany (9). It was Nany and Talit who were the ones helping me set up and decorate the tree. We looked through old magazines to find pictures of Christmas-y things and then taped them to the wall behind the tree. It turned out really cute. Now that I have a camera again I will take pictures before I take it down. It was still three weeks until Christmas but I constantly fielded questions about what kind of festivities equate Christmas in America.

The week of Christmas I received two packages. One from my dad contained a replacement iPod (his old iPhone) and the other was XMas gifts from my Aunt Vicky. Unfortunately the customs agents already did the honor of unwrapping the present but there was still enough wrapping to keep the gift hidden from its recipients. She also sent a gift for me which I’ll admit, I did not wait for. But hey, it’s my house, I do what I want! P.S. Aunt Vicky, if you’re reading this, the bracelets are VERY much the style here and you don’t know how many times I’ve had to refuse women who ask for them.

Christmas Eve I celebrated with my Fada. It’s not quite the same as the Boy’s Club in Hamdallaye but it’s fun. The Fada consists of Cheikna’s son Mohamed, our neighbor Hayatou, and their school friends. It was actually pretty cold so we decided to go to my house and they could prepare the neibit (the staple of every fada – it’s rice and beans with a tomato, onion, and oil sauce … served with Tonko which is crushed red pepper) outside of my house. I was having fun but it really hit me that I wasn’t at Grandpa’s house and I didn’t make my cottage potatoes. When Hayatou mistook the sugar for salt I felt a little better after laughing my head off.

Christmas morning I went to church and celebrated with our group. After church, Henett and I prepared the gifts. I divided Vicky’s 40 gold bracelets saving 3 for me, 10 for the girls and 3 for Maman Cheikna. I went to the market and bought two decks of playing cards as my gift for the boys. I taught Henett how to gift wrap and then we went to their house to deliver their gifts.

So - I started to write a list of song for my brother and I figured others might also be interested to, walla:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgrnVbVI6qQ

(windi windi - kaidan gaskia p.s. most of this video is filmed in niamey so youll actually see places i walk past when im there)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNP8xzknq58

(download the regular version cuz its better its Could You Be Loved - Bob Marley)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3zdIbhhrWA

(Allahou Akbar - Kaidan Gaskia)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yL8ULXTcq5s

(Girma, Girma - Faty Niger. This was probably the first song I heard in country and it was always in my head)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnT-uo0s6Pk&feature=related

(This is the soap opera I watch every Mon-Thurs night ... I don't like the video because its set to This Kiss but you get a little taste... I also found clips but they're from the original show which is in Portugese and not French)

This morning was a very strange morning. Not in the sense that anything felt wrong but when I think back to the events of the morning, I begin to realize how much of a plan there really is in this life. Ridouane messaged me last night saying he was in Kollo but would be at a bapteme and unable to see me since I was leaving for Niamey. The next morning, I woke up later than planned and I got going with my bags to pick up some papers from the inspection before heading to Niamey. Boubey, a young Zarma man, passed me with his donkey cart and asked me if I wanted a ride into town. I had never used this mode of transportation before and even though it was a little slower I accepted his offer. I saw some of my neighbor kids and they even rode along with us. In the market I saw my counterpart who was supposed to bring me the papers. One of the little girls ran to the car he was in, retrieved the papers, and ran back to me in the cart. I reached the inspection, took a photo, thanked Boubey and made me way back to the road, past the Mosque to find a bush taxi.

I looked up and who else did I see but Ridouane! I was soooo excited. He must have seen me from across the street but I had no idea. He told me that he had forgotten something at his house which is why he wasn't already at the bapteme. I had left early knowing I wouldn't see him yet we ran into each other. Fate can be so sweet ... but also so cruel. After making plans to meet up in Niamey later that night he helped me with my bags into a taxi.

The ride was going smoothly. I chatted with a neighbor and listened to a borrowed iPod since mine is broken. When we were just a little bit away from the Libore payage our taxi pulled off onto the side of the road. I couldn't see much, just cars all off the road. The boy who takes money (Hausa's refer to them as road dogs) was blocking my view since there were no open seats. But we stopped and all I could hear were men around me thumbing their prayer beads rapidly (clink, clink, clink) and whispering "Allah Ahkbar" (God is great in Arabic). They stopped completely and the boy opened the door. I looked out and saw a boy laying beneath a taxi. The taxi was all too familiar. It was the same one I see at least twice a week in Sahara (the neighborhood behind the inspection). I had even taken this taxi once. A crushed motorcycle lay to the right of the taxi. The boy was covered with a sheet, probably borrowed froma woman aboard the taxi.

Never in my life have I seen blood spilled but here I was faced with it for the first time. I felt sick to my stomach and tears welled in my eyes. I refused to let them be spilt too. The men descended and prayed. I stayed close to the car, trying not to luck, but as most of us often are, oddly fascinated. The rest of the ride to Niamey was in complete silence. Everyone seemed spell bound by the finality of death and the unique, unknowningness of fate and life. As to be expected, when face with finality, you start to mull over how special your life is. With time, I hope I think about this image less and less (my thoughts have been haunted all morning) but I don't want to forget it.

So I had an amazing list written out but it's sitting on the floor in Kollo and my parents haven't posted it yet so look for updates but here goes (this is all stuff you can send at any time)

* Magazines (Star, InTouch, US Weekly, People, Cosmo) Don't worry about duplicates because I cut out pictures etc.

* Jack Link's Beef Jerky (any flavor really is delicious)

* Blue/Black Bic pens (pens here suck)

* Scotch tape or double sided tape

* Jelly Belly Jelly Beans (sours, graham cracker, margerita)

* Swedish Fish

* Jolly Ranchers (hard or gummy)

* Orbit Peppermint gum

* Ramen Noodles (chicken, beef, oriental)

* Graham crackers

* Nilla Wafers

* Saltines

* Pistachios (salted)

* Trail mix

* Idohan Instant Mashed Potato mix (I think with parmasean cheese)

* Dry soup mixes

* Drink mixes (gatorade glacier freeze, lime, grape, Propel lemon or grape, crystal lite iced tea with lemon)

* Pudding mix

* Skittles

* Nail Polish (white!!! also clear!!!)

* foot scrub

* AAA and AA Batteries

* Tootsie rolls

* rice krispies treats

* Golden Grahams cereal

* Fruity Pebbles cereal

* Cracklin Oat Bran cereal

* Fruit Loops cereal

* Maple n brown sugar oatmeal

* Sweet and salty Almond granola bars

* Granola bars in general

* Children's toys (i.e. slinky, yoyo, bouncy balls, jacks, anything cute and cheap from walmart... i have a lot of kids in my neighborhood ... by kids I mean free time haha)

* Crayons

* cute magnets

* Mix cds (ipod is broken and neighbors let me borrow their cd player)

* Ranch mix packets (spicy kind is also good)

* spray bug repellent

* any old playstation (original) games you have laying around

* oreos

* honey roasted almonds

* candy canes

* ANY candy really (if you think it might melt ... please ziplock it)

* playtex tampons (plastic applicators please girls)

* any instant boxed meals that you can do with a stove and that dont involve butter or milk (random but i eat the same things every day)

* parmasean cheese

* velveeta mild mexican cheese (ziplock this)

* cross stitching thread (all colors)

* yarn (all colors)

* jiffy pop popcorn

* butter flavoring powder (it exists)

* slim jims

* doritos (dont care if they get crushed because i will eat the crumbs)

* peanut m&ms

* nutty bars

* decks of cards

* twizzlers

* individual tissue packs

* pads with wings

* macaroni and cheese (velveeta shells and cheese too)

* razors without lotion strips

* books (anything from the popular section at walmart or meijers is usually what i like) im into fiction and i tend to be into comedy/romance/or muder mystery stuff

* pretzles (esp sourdough)

* mascara

* small battery operated fans (if you can find them)

* board games (candy land, junior monopoly, trouble, sorry, yahtzee)

* squirt guns, balloons

* scrapbooking materials (books and paper and dbl sided tape)

* weight watchers choc pb bars (also good are the power bar anything with choc and peanuts)

* zattarins red beans and rice

* boil a bag rice

* TUNA

* choc/strawberry poptarts

* parmasean basil wheat thins

* triscuits

* cheese pb crackers (little snack pack things)

* kazoos

* corn bread mix (for when im at the hostel)

* carmel

* sweet, shredded coconut

* reeses pieces

* gummy worms

* trolli sour eggs

* starbursts

The first meal I cooked was a boil a bag rice packet with a sauce of tomato and meat sauce. I added garlic, salt, pepper, and maybe some oregano. It was good but it was my first attempt at cooking.

My next attempt was spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce. I went to the market and bought an onion, and 7 small tomatoes. When I got home I realized I didn’t really have a pot to cook the sauce in so I improvised and decided the skillet (which is a little deep) would have to do. My only pot was being used for the past. I sliced the tomatoes and diced the onion. I threw a little oil in the bottom of the skillet, added the veggies and began with the spices. I used Maggi poulet (chicken bouillon), garlic powder, salt, oregano, and fresh piement (small, spicy green peppers). I let it all sautee in the oil and used a spoon to smooth the tomatoes out. It was delicious! And typical American, it was a very fast dish. The women here spend all day making their meals and I was in and out (including eating time) in half an hour.

To make a good sauce it is important to find quality vegetables which can sometimes be hard to do. I have a refrigerator which makes it easier to keep veggies but there are some things that just don’t last long. If I buy in Niamey where it is easy to find great quality fresh food it has to survive the HOT bush taxi ride back to Kollo. I ended up with tomato paste in my bag one day. In Kollo’s ecogar you need to go early in the morning or just after the 4 o’clock prayer to find really good food. It also helps to find a vendor who will let you hand pick the ones you went. Some ladies just toss your amount into the bag. I am NOT a fan of that method. Why buy tomatoes that you can’t even use? For the annassara (white person) sometimes it is also necessary to send a Nigerien to do your shopping. I have experimental proof to back up my statement. One day, I asked for 100 CFA of tomatoes. Just after I left, my friend Bachir bought me another 100 CFA worth and his bag was much fuller than mine. Not everyone does this and I am a very loyal shopper, which also helps. By going to the same person they come to know your expectations and sometimes they even give you cadeaux (gifts).

Another favorite dish of mine is tuna pasta (when I can afford or have received tuna in the mail). I get the water boiling and put the pasta in. While the water gets hot I chop half an onion and place it in oil. I season with garlic and Maggi arome (sort of like soy sauce) In the 7 minutes it takes to cook the pasta I sautee the onions until they’re golden. I mix the tuna with garlic powder, poultry seasoning, and one slice of Laughing Cow cheese (think Velveeta texture). I put the pasta in a bowl, throw the tuna on top, and then finish with the onions and oil. I mix it all together with a little salt and yet another fast, easy, and delicious meal.

Chocolate is a relative term. One day (after receiving a bag of Reese’s PB Cups from Shiree and co.) I tried to think of a way to make a dessert. I had some Kuli Kuli (powdered peanut resin) and a wave of genius crashed over me. I mixed 100 CFA of Kuli Kuli with 9 spoonfuls of Milo chocolate powder (the closest I have to cocoa powder). I crushed 10 sugar cubes in my mini mortar. I added 4 spoonfuls of powdered milk. I added a dash of oil and about ¾ a cup of water. I had really only intended to make the dough moist enough to form into balls but the amount of water was an accident. The result was somewhat like brownie batter so I put it into a Tupperware container and put it in my fridge. It tastes almost like a brownie and when it freezes it sort of has the texture of fudge. I also plan to try on making it the text time on the stove. Maybe it will be more like pudding. I hope to find or receive some vanilla extract for the next batch. My neighbor kids beg me to make this all the time and I usually do. It’s so easy and I like it too. I’m going to try and make it so I can actually freeze it completely into bricks.

Another item I make on the regular that my neighbors also love is juice. When I am in Niamey I buy Foster Clarks strawberry powder. The former volunteer always bought lemons (which look like limes) from a vendor. He wanted to sell them to me but when I first started buying I didn’t know what to do with the lemons. I finally found a suitable bottle and I juiced them all at once so they wouldn’t go bad before I could use them. Now the kids like to help my cut and juice so the process is much faster. Now in a liter bottle I add lemon juice, the strawberry powder, and fill with water. Shake, chill, and serve.

In non work related news things have been going relatively well despite slowly losing my group of friends to Niamey. Nasser is at school, Bachir is going to be a Gendarme, and Ridoune is continuing school while he waits for the Douane (military). Ridouane was especially hard for me because I never expected him to leave. He was one of my first friends in Kollo and certainly the closest. We even referred to each other as twins. He is the spirit of Kollo and the village even feels a little different. He had a cell phone boutique in the market and it makes me sad each time I pass by (walking or by bike) and no one is sitting out front. Because he was there, the whole Fada would come and hang out. It’s where I went every day as soon as I left work.

But we got to celebrate big before he left. I threw a party at my house last Saturday (this was coincidentally before we knew when he would leave) and all my friends came. Even Nasser came in from Niamey and as of Sat. night I am officially his girlfriend. So cute… My neighbor Hennett came over and helped me prepare the food. I made tuna pasta and spaghetti. I have perfected making tomato sauce in a skillet (I’ll blog ALL about food later). Nany and Talit came and helped clean but they were sad that it was an all adult party this time. But I promised them that the next night would be just for them and I would even make my much desired chocolate.

People started arriving after the 8 o’clock prayer. Ridouane and Moctar were the first to arrive. My neighbors came over too. There’s Mohammed who is 21, Moussa who is 17, Omar who is 15, and their friend Hayatou who is 16. I had talked to Nasser and wasn’t really clear on whether or not he would be able to make it in. The food didn’t take as long to prepare as I imagined so we decided to start eating before it got much colder. It was kind of ironic that the only non-nigerien was the one eating with her hands. Basically I only had so many forks and spaghetti is hard with only a spoon. But when I pointed this out it made everyone laugh.

Of course just as the food was finished Nasser called and said they were here. He came with his best friend, his brother Issaka, and another guy from our Fada whose name escapes me everytime I see him. But they did get to try some of the chocolate I made so it wasn’t all a loss. Nasser was the last to leave and I was sad to see him go. But Tabaski is right around the corner and he should be in town for the fete (celebration).

The next morning was when I found it my twin would be leaving me. I spent the morning hanging out with him while he did his laundry. After awhile I went home because he had things to do. It was Sunday so I decided to walk around our market for awhile. Market is so general but there are 3 in Kollo. The first is the everyday market which stretches along the main road and into the ecogar (motorpark). The second is the Friday market which is in Kollo Zongo and about 5km from me. I’ve only been once and it was intimidating. I didn’t even really market when I went. I just drove through with my neighbor in his car en route to the river. The third is our smaller Sunday market which is right across from my inspection. Even that market makes me a little anxious but I am getting a hang of finding what I want and being able to bargain for it. I usually take Nany with me to help with vendors who don’t speak French.

Before the night was over I biked over to the boutique and bought one last leemu hari for me and Rido. We ate to our health (a little inside joke that I really don’t remember how it started). Saying goodbye to him was so hard and I felt like crying. I could tell he was going to really miss me. I found out later that he told all our friends that they were not allowed to let me stay by myself for more than two nights in a row and that they had to go visit me if they didn’t see me around the village. Moctar actually did come to visit me and it was really nice. After night falls I don’t leave INRAN. I don’t like walking or riding along the main road with all the bush taxis who fly during the night.

This past week I started observing in the schools. The whole process before hand was stressful. My counterpart told me I should write a letter of intent to the school directors. After three (frustrating) drafts mostly due to the lack of a computer and the fact that I had to handwrite everything, I finally gave my letter to my counterpart. Thursday when I went to my first school I was surprised to find that they hadn’t received my letter. But I knew the school director and he was fine with letting me get started right away although I assurred him I could come back another day.

I observed in two classes for an hour each. It was interesting, and now hard to explain, that the schools were so similar and yet so different from my experience in America. First I’ll start with some similarities:

*The teachers have curriculum books which they teach from.

*They have established lesson plans that are on display in the class (although I’m not sure they do this weekly as is done in most American schools).

*The classrooms are decorated, they have desks and blackboards (at least in these classes)

*The students must ask permission before leaving the room.

*The teacher lectures and then the students respond back to questions.

Now some differences:

*When the students want to respond they all snap, wave their hands, and shout “ma madame, ma madame”. It was a little overwhelming.

*There is a lot of recitation incorporated into the lessons.

*Boys and girls segregate themselves almost all the time.

So far I have gone to three schools. The first was a normal example of a primary school, the second was the Kindergarden (by far my favorite but I am a little biased), and the third was the Experimental school where they teach primarily in Zarma rather than French.

I took some great videos which I will soon attempt to put on Youtube or Facebook but I’m not counting on much because this is Niger and the internet is slow and most of the time ay sinda suuru (I don’t have patience – for you non Zarma speakers).

The time I spent in the schools helped me get over some of the frustration I had been feeling. I really like being social but I felt like there wasn’t enough for me to do at work. Helping my counterpart is one thing but it wasn’t making ME feel productive in my mission here. From observing I have started kicking around some long-term project ideas:

- A resource library for teachers on subjects such as pedagogy, communication, discipline and rewarding, and interdisciplinarity.

- A literacy project that would help kids learn Zarma and French as primary and once they have reached a certain level they can begin English. I would want to incorporate peer tutoring and counseling into the projects with a team of Nigerien teachers as the main facilitators.

- A children’s arts and culture center. The kids of Kollo are very expressive and they don’t have many outlets for that. I would like to offer art, music, and drama classes and then have bimonthly exhibitions for the kids.

All I can say is THANK YOU for all the packages. This last month was kinda rough and there was a three week stretch with absolutely no mail (not your fault). Luckily, I just received four packages and about 7 letters. I got packages from my brother, friend Shiree, Aunt Lisa, and Grandpa. I will try Spam for the first time in my life. I am responding as fast as I can but I have started observing in the schools so I am FINALLY busier. Also, I was running out of money (in my village, not in general) and I am finally in Niamey and will be able to afford stamps once again.

Unfortunately, since I last wrote I have joined the bacteria club. It was three days of utter misery and followed up by a nice case of haemorrhoids (sorry if that's too graphic for some). But my mantra in Niger is A sinda taali, babu layhi which means No problems (said in both Zarma AND Hausa for extra emphasis ... and too amuse my villagers). In the past month I have really felt at home in Kollo. I have a great group of friends who I see on a daily basis. My best friend in Kollo is named Ridouane, affectionately known as Big Head. He is my Nigerien twin and that's what we call each other. He has a boutique in town and I go there after work to hang out and talk and laugh. Through him I have met more and more people my age. The other night I even had a volunteer friend and 3 Nigerien friends over for a party at my house. I am having another one tomorrow night. A boori! Sadly, my twin will be leaving soon to join the Duanes (like military).

I have been trying for weeks to upload newer photos (slowly but surely it is coming along). I haven't been to Niamey in awhile but when you need to go to the doctor/bank, you need to go. I also got a cat today. I had a puppy ... for 2 days ... but discovered that having a dog in America is much easier than having a dog in Niger for multiple reasons. 1) people are afraid of dogs 2) I'm never home!! 3) dogs are dirtier. My cat's name is Chai (formerly Mr. Chapeau). He is black and white and utterly adorable. It's nice to have such an independent animal. But it's only been one day so we'll see how it goes. If I don't like it I have a neighboring volunteer who will take him. I think it will work out.

Like I mentioned above I started observing in the schools. I was having a rough week at work dealing with being compared to other volunteers and feeling like I didn't have the skills to contribute yet. But when I was observing I felt so much more empowered. I want to work on a resource library for teachers that will go over pedagogy and interdisciplinary studies as well as multiculturalism in school. I also want to work on a literacy project. There is a great interest in learning English but if I do a literacy project French and Zarma will be primary and once they have met the targets then they will start English. I also want to do a children's art and culture center with art classes and showcases. We'll see...

The colors of Niger ... After a day revisiting my family in Hamdallaye I boarded a bus headed to Niamey. I was sitting half on the floor - on one of the wheel coverings that sticks up into the bus to be exact. I was zoning out when I realized how much color and life there was around me. A group of Fulani men boarded the bus. They were wearing blue and black but it was their head coverings that stuck out the most. There are no gender rules when it comes to color in Niger. One of the men was wearing a pink and black scarf wrapped around and tied above his forehead. He has cords of green and purple, braided, that fell down his back. The women sitting around me were all wearing colorful pagnes (the wrap skirts) Each one with a different pattern ... most of them not necessarily matching but still managing to look like they all belong together.

Outside, the sand is getting deeper and it is harvest time. The green that was abundant when I arrived is slowly starting to disappear. The days are hot but the nights are cooler. I slept outside for the first time in a month and a half. It was beautiful - despite the giant and noisy crickets that invaded (and even a few got inside) the mosquito net.

I can't believe how much has changed over the past two years. I used to be this shy and quiet person who was afraid to put myself out there, to be seen, to make mistakes, to live. Now, here I find myself in Niger and I have no choice but to be seen. I am different than 99.7% of the population. And for once in my life, I don't (always) mind the attention.

I have just completed my first month as an official volunteer and it went amazingly fast. I remember how slow the first week in Hamdallaye was. The first three months, work is limited to integration and language aquisition. The first is no problem at all, and little by little (moso moso) my Zarma is coming along. I love the way that people greet each other here. It feels like a competition to see who can throw the greetings first and I feel lucky to be able to be a competitor now. It doesn't always come easy, but there are days when I can communicate so easily that I forget I am not speaking English. There are days I miss English. Luckily, I think I have found ALL the English speakers in my village.

The first month we were not allowed to travel outside of our posts except for emergencies. Thankfully I had none. Here's a little glimpse into my everyday, Nigerien, life.

Mon-Fri: Wake up between 6-7:30 and shower. Leave the house before 8 and before the heat really starts. I walk to to my inspection, stopping at the ecogar (motorpark) to find breakfast. ( An Inspection is similar to a school superintendent's office in the US)  Usually cicenas which are fried dough balls made from bean curds. They are like spicy doughnuts and they are delicious. At the inspection, I greet my co-workers and either read, write, study zarma, or just chat with my co-workers. I also try to make observations about their different roles. Around 11 or 12, I pass through the market area and say hello to my friends. Then I hang out for an hour or two at another bureau. There's a guy there who speaks perfect English and French (also Hausa and Zarma, but the first two are more useful for me). I get home around 2 or 3 and am usually so tired from the heat. My walk is about 1 km, so I just take a nap. When I wake up I go over to my neighbors house to play cards, watch my favorite Brazilian soap opera dubbed over in French, and eat dinner.

Sat: I use this day to go to one of my favorite coworker's house. I like them all and it's hard to split my time, but this woman and her family make me laugh like no other. I adore her whole family.

Sun: I head to my counterpart's house. Before I get there I stop at a meat vendor on the way. Ibrahim* (names have been changed) hangs out there. He's one of the most amazing men I have ever met. He's almost 60 years old. He always dreamed of studying in America. His degree is in Psychology. But he could never finish the GRE for one reason or another. So he studied in France, Germany, and Russia. Not only did he study there but he became fluent in the languages on top of his native Hausa and Zarma. Yai! He's always interesting to talk to. He looks out for me too. Today, he helped me find a bush taxi to Niamey. He's like my Nigerien grandfather.

When I finally get to my counterpart's house, his wife usually prepares dan kali (sweet potato fries) for me. She's amazing. His daughters are always excited to see me which is a pleasant surprise. I find it hard sometimes to find female friends. If they are close to my age they are usually married or uneducated and therefore can't communicate with me in French. Granted I speak baby-zarma and that is, of course, no real use to them either. We usually just play cards and kick back. My puppy's brother still lives there. It's nice to get puppy lovin since I had to give my dog away here. It was too much to handle and I am never at home anyways.

I am really loving life in Niger. I feel like I can't say that enough. I have been blessed. I really like my APCD. I feel like she really understands who I am and that goes such a long way.

People in Niamey and my village know me. It's such a cool feeling to have people remember you after a month without seeing or talking to them.

I was recently in Niamey to celebrate my 100 days in Niger. My friend from Kollo, Omar*, came to visit. He lives in Niamey and works during the week in my village. We had dinner at my favorite little buvette. We ate together and I saw a familiar face. I was pretty sure his name was Djamilou. I yelled it out and he came over. I asked him if he remembered me. Without any hesitation he replied, Faiza (my nigerien name). He gave us a round of tea and chatted with us until I left for the hostel.

The next day I was getting set to leave. I HATE bush taxis especially when I am alone and have a lot of things. I had gone grocery shopping and had 2 soccer bags full of stuff. It was also market day in my village which meant there would be lots of (full) cars. I wasn't excited about trying to find my way back. Keep in mind this was the first time finding a taxi from Niamey to Kollo. I had come from my village before but it was always the PC (Peace Corps) who took me back. First, I had to find a city taxi to the tessum (motorpark in zarma) which is located in the Grand Marche. VERY INTIMIDATING ... fyi. I crossed the street and miraculously a taxi stopped for me and accepted where I wanted to go.

Because I am generally nervous around taxis (city or bush) I try to talk with the driver as much as possible. This was the best thing in the long run. I asked him how long he had driven a taxi, where he learned French, and then we compared gas prices. I was curious why city taxies went to the village before mine but not my village. After asking how much it would cost I decided that it was for sure in my price range and he said he would take me to Kollo. I was sooo happy there would be no bush taxi for me that day, mostly because of all my bags. He stopped to look for a document, probably to satisfy the gendarmes. Even though he didn't find it, he still took me. We stopped at a gas station and he bought 3 bags of water, one for him and two for me. He was a really cool guy. He even had family in Kollo. He said every once in a while he would buy bread and have them deliver it to me. He dropped me off and we exchanged numbers. It's always nice to know a taximan. (Actually I've already used him again when I came into Niamey today) He picked me up from the tessum and on the way to the bureau I saw the Niger jersey I wanted to buy for my brother. I was a little short on cash so he helped me pay and then didn't even charge me for the ride. Like I said connections are everything. Fondo ba nooru. That's a zarma proverb that means "Relations are better than money".

I love Niger. My favorite parts of the day can never be predicted. There are some days when I loathe the idea of having to find a cab or a bush taxi ... dun dun daa. But then there are days when you find a driver who doesn't try to get more money out of you. Or you find someone willing to take you where you need to go on the first try. I also like walking around Niamey and having vendors remember you. I ran into Ousmane who I had negotiated cell phones with for some other stagieres. He saw me as I was heading into the bank and yelled my Nigerien name out.

Last night, in search for food, we stopped FINALLY at a little stand not far from the hostel. I started chatting with a Nigerien named Jamilou. He invited me to eat with him since I hadn't gotten my food yet but I declined since I was with my friends. I told him he could come over to our table. He came over and chatted with us in Zarma and French. I'm hoping my brain will learn through slow absorption.

Today, Maria and I walked around the Petit Marche. I didn't have anything specific in mind since my post is pretty much completely furnished. I was still looking for the Niger soccer jersey for my brother. The beautiful thing here is that you can ask a shopkeeper where to look and they will actually find it, buy it, and then resell it to you. They usually get better prices too. I found a nice tapestry of the mosque in Agadez and I'm debating between sending it home and keeping it in my house. I can't wait to go to the artisan's district. I've seen some beautiful sculptures and carvings that I can't wait to invest in.

With the good things also come the unnerving things. Kids and old women will follow you begging for money. It's so hard to just say "May God bring it to you" and keep walking. The young boys will often ask for cadeaux. They are easier to deal with. You just ask for a gift in return and when they say they dont have one tell them you don't either and they usually go away.

Thursday I move to my village. I'm sure this first month will be the longest but I am excited to play games and hang out with my villagers. I love talking to people. It comes so much easier to me. Maybe it's because I have to be more creative with communication.

I am now, as of 9/12/2008, an official PCV. My close of service date is 9/11/2010. I left my host family yesterday which was really hard for me. I was very attached which isn't surprising since that's how it was for me in Luxembourg. It was hard not to cry because the excitement, fear, sadness and happiness hit me all at the same time. I carried my things up to the training site and just burst into tears. Luckily my friend was there to help me smile.

I just arrived in Niamey this morning for installation. I am one of the last to get installed on Thursday so I'll be hanging out until this Thursday with some important meetings scattered throughout the week. I can't wait to start setting up my house.

It's so hard to write sometimes because everything is all jumbled in my head. The Swear-In Ceremony was at the US Ambassador's house. It was a pretty simple affair. We had three PCTs give speeches in the local languages (Zarma, Hausa, and then French). Afterwards we had dinner in Hamdy with all of the staff.

The next morning I got to learn how to use the bank. Rather than going back to the ambassador's I decided to bush taxi back to Hamdy to spend our last free day hanging out. I live in fear of bush taxi's, but the experience gets easier and easier. I found a car right away and only had to wait for about thirty minutes. Now, knowing at least a little Zarma, I found chatting more enjoyable.

I had dinner one last time with my host family and then had tea with my Baba. I hung out in the boy's club for the last time and was accompanied by Hama and Karim up to the site. I planned on staying up all night because I didn't feel like unpacking my sheets and mosquito net, but I ended up falling asleep in the refectoire. Not the most comfortable. I woke up at 4:30 when people started to break fast (it's Ramadan). Before I left Karim presented me with a certificate for the Boys Club. 

It was a perfect ending.

This letter was sent 8-18-08 and was received 9-2-08         

  Click on each page to enlarge image

So things here are snowballing so fast into swear in. On the one hand I am very excited and on the other hand I am scared. I'm sad to leave Hamdy and that I won't get to see my host family everyday. There's been some days where if I hadn't had them to go home to that I would probably have considered going home. They have made all the difference in my being successful here. I'll miss the other volunteers too. It's so easy when everyone is in such a close proximity to one another. Granted, my closest volunteer is only 18k away but still ... that's not 18 feet.

This past week I spent in MY village. It was so exciting to walk along the main road and practice my Zarma greetings since that and "ay go ga dondon Zarma cine" are the only sentences I can say (that means btw "I'm learning Zarma"). Each day I went to the inspection and a different coworker took me to their home for lunch. I'm really going to fit in where I work. The atmosphere is just so laid back and Nigeriens are always joking around with one another. They love to laugh and I share that quality.

Thursday I was sick which was no fun. I felt so bad for my coworker because he felt bad that I was sick at his house. He had just got done telling me that when it rains during someones visit it is that person bringing their family luck. Then in the span of 45 minutes I had to use their latrine 4 times ... in the rain and lighting. Not to mention, at this point in the week I had just run out of toilet paper. I am resourceful and used a pad and a dryer sheet to wipe but that only worked once. Then I had to buta it ... not as hard as the first time but definitely not an enjoyable experience.

But - I do have a normal bathroom set up in my house! My house is gorgrous. I live in a gated community and I have enough privacy ... almost too much, though. I live a roughly 25 minute walk away from the hub of the city (the area surrounding my work place). That means for me to meet people I have to stay out later. I will encourage people to visit me so long as it is during daytime hours. I am also hoping to get a bike. This, I'm sure, will only contribute to the forty pounds I have already lost.

Friday I headed back to the city. My bush taxis in Kollo are pretty exceptional. It was the city taxis that gave me the most trouble this time around. I was so tired, still stick, and just wanting to get somewhere that felt safe .... funny how standing in the middle of a busy street doesn't feel the most comforting. I repeatedly flag down taxis who aren't willing to drive me to the hostel. I get in one who says he'll take me (finally) but he says for 400 cfa ... this is double the price and not realllly worth it. I get out and finally ask to go to the PC bureau. As soon as I was in the car I felt like crying. I was so relieved.

Hey, Guys!

I hope you get a kick out of this tape. I know my host kids and I had fun making it!

Here is my first photo memory card. I don't really remember what's on it, and my camera has no batteries as of this morning otherwise I would have written out descriptions. 

Please post all the photos on facebook. (You can also view these pictures on the following website: http://gallery.mac.com/docslack )

When I use the internet next I'll add captions. If you see any particularly good pictures will you print them off as 8.5x11?  I can use them to decorate my house when I get on post. (You can print them in Black and White if it's easier.) Can you also make prints at Walgreens of the pictures of me posing with people (so I can give copies to my host family).

Put any prints in ziplock bags before mailing in case of rain.

Thanks!

I love you

Jessica

Dear Mom and Dad and everybody,

I'm currently in Kollo which is 30 kilometers from Niamey. I'm staying with another CYE (Community Youth Education) Peace Corps volunteer. She will finish her service just about the same time I finish my training and swear in as an official volunteer. I really want her post so I'll be trying to convince Tondi and Assalama (my CYE Coordinators), but I won't get my hopes up.

Her house is gorgeous. Luckily, most CYE Volunteers have electricity, running water, AND indoor plumbing! Her neighbor is an amazing Taureg man with a cool family which is also the appeal for me. I want that posting so bad, but they speak Zarma, and I'm being trained to speak Hausa. Like I said, I'm going to be dropping hints like mad. Staying with this Education volunteer has made me very optimistic.

You should know that I'm planning on getting a cat. She has one and I found out that I'm NOT allergic. Dogs are too hard to keep as pets here, but I need a pet (one that hunts mice will be especially nice!)

Mom, keep your intention on me getting this post. The water here is treated, and it's pretty close to Niamey in case I ever get sick and need to see the doctors at the Peace Corps clinic. (Plus there's a good vet in Niamey for my future cat!) I also like the Nigerien education counterpart that I would work with if I get this post, and I think we could work well together. There are American missionaries in the area, too.

I miss you guys, but I am loving it here.

Count your blessings every day that you have a flush toilet and a car to get around.

My first bush taxi trip will be tomorrow.

Write soon!

Love,

Jessica

(Jessica enclosed a list of "goodies" that she'd love to get in the mail from home)

O.K. guys, I know I keep asking for stuff, but it's only because I can't find it here (within my budget) AND they bring our mail to us until Swear-In (September 12th).

Some of this list is repetitive because I don't know what you've sent already. I'm on "Demystification Weekend" (we get to go and stay with a Peace Corps Volunteer that has been here for a year or longer to see what it's REALLY like) and my list has expanded. You can send me these things in a flat rate box from the post office (more bang for your buck). On top of the inside write my address on red paper. On all mail you can write "Republique du Niger" instead of just "Niger" so it's less likely to be sent to Nigeria by mistake! O.K. here goes my list:

2008-09 Calendars  Magazines 8.5x11 posters   Scotch Tape AA and AAA Batteries  Crayons (in a ziplock bag) Elastic hair ties  Eyeglass wipes Colored pencils   small pencil sharpener Chocolate or Peanut Butter Power Bars Nature Valley Granola Bars Small Packs of Oreos  Graham Crackers Nilla Wafer Cookies  Goldfish Crackers Children's songbooks  Blue Bic Pens Q-tips Pocket size French Dictionary Doritos Airmail Envelopes LEXAR 2GB chip for my digital camera Small speakers (for my iPod) Candy canes for Christmas Sudoku books Small packs of tissues

Hi, everybody!

We have been advised that some mail to Niger ends up going to NIGERIA by mistake, so please modify my mailing address to read: "Republique du Niger" instead of just "Niger". 

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone that has sent a letter, card or package! You have NO IDEA how much getting mail boosts my morale!

I also now have a cell phone that I can receive call on. The number is: 011-227-96-349557     The least expensive way to call is to get an international ATT phone card from Target or Wal-Mart. It lets you call for about 50¢ a minute. Keep in mind that Niger is five hours ahead of Ohio - so if you call at 5:00 pm it will be 10:00 pm in Niger.

Thanks for all the support and good thoughts!

Love,

Jessica

Air Mail    -    Par Avion

    Jessica Slack PCV

    Corps de la Paix

    B.P. 10537

    Niamey,  Republique du Niger

Mom and Dad,

Hey, I hope you guys write often. I got a card from Aunt Patricia today, and let me tell you it was such a morale boost. I remember being envious of the first person who got mail. Sorry if I repeat anything - I'm writing so many letters with similar information. I think I wrote to you from Philly and I know I sent a postcard.

I've been here now for one week. I only had one bad moment. They were telling us some worst case scenarios and it triggered doubt, fear and sadness. As soon as I got back to my host family, though, and saw their smiling faces I felt better. I try to keep in mind that they told us about us worst case situations before my trip to Luxembourg last summer, too. Nothing happened to me there because I was careful.

I have yet to poop in the pit latrine (at my host family's compound). I go at the training site. Actually I only use the pit latrine at all when it's daylight because night time = feeding frenzy for the cockroaches. I know they can't hurt me but they are fast and gross.

The more I'm here, the more I realize things that I need and forgot or didn't bring enough of: Air mail envelopes, AAA and AA batteries, iPod wall charger (I brought the USB cord but forgot the charger part), an iPod solar charger, a PWR converter (same as EURO), socks, pens (blue/black), colored pencils, playing cards and  UNO cards.

The more I've talked to current volunteers (there are four here at the training site) the more wary I am of sending my digital camera memory card through the mail. I haven't filled the smaller memory card yet.

Training is going well. The first official day of training, we had a language interview one-on-one with a language trainer.  

** (Two lizards just did a lap around my feet, so now my heart has resumed beating. I can't wait for those sort of things to not phase me anymore.)**

I keep trying to think positive. I'm on top of the game .... no diarrhea yet and no bad side effects of the pills or shots.

Anyway, I scored "Intermediate-low" on my french skills, so I have eight weeks to move up to intermediate-middle. I'm thinking there will be no problem. I may get to start learning Hausa in a few weeks. Most of my host family speaks French so I'm good.

Please write letters, notes, whatever! It's such a good feeling to see mail waiting for you. Everyone envies the ones who get letters.

I'll write as much and send letters out as often as possible, because I have more letters than stamps (and money!) I just got breakfast allowance for this week, and I'm never hungry in the mornings (plus the market is on the opposite side of the training site) so I'll use that money for stamps. Market days are Tuesdays.

I live so close to the training site ... maybe a two minute walk only because it's uphill. My neighbor in the compound (where my host family's house is) is the local tailor so a lot of people stop by. 

Well, I'm running out of things to write.

I LOVE YOU GUYS!      Missing you from Niger!

Jessica         aka  "Faîza"

My mailing address in Niger is:

Par Avion            -           Airmail

           Jessica Slack PCV           Corps de la Paix           B.P.  10537           Niamey, Republique du Niger

Any and all mail is greatly appreciated.   The airmail postage to Niger is 94¢ for a business size envelope with a page or two.   If you have a heavier or larger envelope, have your post office weigh and calculate airmail postage.

Estimates at this time are that it may take between 10 and 20 days to arrive.

Thanks everybody!

Jessica

 

(This letter was written 7-14-08, Postmarked 7-15-08 and received in Westerville on 7-23-08. Jessica used a 750F Republic of Niger postage stamp - about $1.47 US)

Hey there!

You guys wouldn't even believe where I live! As the plane was landing all I could see was red dirt, sparse bushes and a few buildings. As soon as we got off the plane I started sweating, but the temperature was relatively the same as Myrtle Beach.

We got through customs and loaded everyone's bags. They all made it. Tondi, the training manager, met us along with a group of ten or so current Peace Corps Volunteers. We packed into two vans and made our way to Hamdallaye. There was one paved road - on one side I saw green fields of millet; on the other side of the road was burning tires, some buildings, and lots of people. I even saw a camel.

The first two nights we slept at the training site and we slept outside. Our beds were mattresses raised on a stick frame covered by a mosquito net. The first night was perfect. The second night was too humid.

Friday we had a culture fair with all kinds of different stations. For example: rope making, a blacksmith, music and dancing, preparing millet, hair braiding and henna (I got some orange henna designs drawn on my hands.)

Dinner and lunch have been fantastic. I've had rice and beans, lamb, goat (very similar to lamb) and couscous, as well as mashed potatoes.

Saturday was host family orientation day. We had our first language lessons. I was assigned Hausa (one of the two main local languages). We also had interviews (in French) to assess our proficiency level. Once I achieve intermediate-mid in French, I will be able to focus more on learning the local language.

I am very lucky because my host family assignment is with someone that works at the Peace Corps training site. I have my own hut with a "yard" that's gated. I haven't been in my hut much because I sleep outside when it's hot. I spend a lot of time with kids because if they're older than seven they speak French.

My hut has electricity which is great because the gas lantern scares me even though they showed us how to light it. P.S. - they showed us how to save money on toilet paper ... use your hand... we will see how that goes!

I spend a lot of time in the main compound. They have a fan AND a T.V. I watched "24" and "Transformers" in French today.

The kids took me to the market so I could buy a pair of flip-flops for easier use of the douche (shower) and the pit latrine. There are seven children in my host family, but there are five or ten more in the compound.

There are lizards everywhere. When they stop, they do "pushups" and then keep going. Tons of bugs, but no weird ones yet. I had one moment when I first arrived at the training site where I doubted if this was for me but so far, so good.

It's hard finding times to write but I will as much as possible.

Love,

Jessica a.k.a. Faiza (my Hausa name)

My pre-service training occurs in Hamdallaye (about 20 miles northwest of the capital Niamey).

My first week:    Sat.    7-12-08 - Intro. meeting, pre-service training overview, visit traditional chief, village tour, how to use Nigerian tool, language class, host family orientation/reception. Tues. 7-15-08 - Host family debriefing session. REG training begins.

Sat.    7-26-08 - Demystification (Two days of visiting Peace Corps Volunteers at site)

Tues. 7-29-08 - We have to find our OWN way home using public transportation (scary but manageable).

We get a 1,000 CFA ($2.00) per day allowance.

Week 1-3: Intensive language, cross cultural, technical training, health, safety and security training.  GAD olympics, cooking, village visit, visit other PC Volunteers on site. Because I'm in the Community Youth Education program, I'll start with French language review. At the intermediate level I'll begin Hausa or Zarma (local Niger languages). If for some reason I don't pass the language exams, we have an opportunity to do a two week extensive study.

Week 4: Site placement interview, language proficiency test #1

Week 5: Site placement announcements (village visit)

Week 6: Supervisor conference, technical training

Week 7: Live in (one week spent at site, arrange MY house!)

Week 8: More Language training

Week 9: Language Proficiency final exam, administrative sessions, final evaluation, swearing in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (September 12th)

Please write!  Love you all!

       Jessica

Guys, I am so excited! 

Now that I'm here I am finally proud of myself. I never took into consideration how selective Peace Corps is. But THEY chose me because I have what it takes.

I hope I hear from you guys soon. I'll write as much as possible. Keep in mind: "No news = Good News"

Love,

Jessica

Hello All -

I am pleased to announce the safe arrival of the Peace Corps Niger July Training Group for the beginning of their training to become Peace Corps Volunteers.

Everyone is in good spirits, as you can see from the photo, settling in well to our training site. They are also, as I type this, experiencing their first really big African monsoon storm!

We are thrilled to have this new set of trainees and look forward to working with them over the next two years.

Cheers,Mary AbramsCountry DirectorPeace Corps Niger