A Fete for All

So I've decided to cheat a little bit and steal entries from my journal. I've come into Niamey and broken my exile because we had to write our reports for this trimester to send to Washington, and I was told I really had no option in the matter. So here I am, and here are a few of my entries.


30 September 2008 7:42 pm

Today marked Id al Fitr, the celebration ending Ramadan, and it was one of the best days I've had yet in country. First, let me say that this was the cleanest I have ever been or may ever be in village. I shaved, trimmed my hair, and scrubbed myself down for the festivities. I'm so glad I did too. I wore my outfit from swear-in, a long, dark green, embroidered African complet. It's the first time my villagers ever saw me in it. They were impressed, but I couldn't hold a candle next to some of the stuff they had. See pictures on facebook if you're interested. Everyone was decked out in his/her finest. Even the kids were scrubbed and in clean, non-tattered clothes. That was a shock to say the very least. It was like I was in a different place. A place that wasn't one of the world's poorest countries.

Okay, so the morning began with a walk to the edge of town. I thought we were going to the big mosque in the neighboring village, but as I looked back down the road, I knew that the mosque couldn't hold the hundreds that were walking to pray. We turned off the road at the edge of the village and onto a path through the bush. We walked a bit to a large section of field that had been cleared for the occasion. The sun was out and it was hot, but we rolled out the prayer mats and the alfa (a religious leader) of my neighborhood led the prayer. I did pray with my villagers, in the front row between a very old Fulan and a very small boy. I didn't know what I was doing, and it was nerve wracking, but I don't think my villagers minded that I followed their lead and faked my way through the service.

After the big prayer, we walked back to the village chief's compound and basically feasted. Many of the men were singing prayers the entire way back. There was so much food, and everyone in town was there. My neighbors Djame and Abu gave me two full pots of macaroni. I ate so much I had to spend most of the afternoon sleeping it off.

The best part of this holidy was how communal it all was. My friend from market, a cloth seller, actually thought to call me just to say "Kay Yesi" (Happy New Year). My counterpart Adamou's little girls came and visited me all by themselves. They're very cute and I couldn't believe they thought to come by. He called the next day from Ivory Coast, where he is doing migrant work as an animal trader. His daughters had on their matching outfits and their mother had braided their hair with bright, colorful beads. I didn't have any change (the typical small gift you give children who wish you a happy New Year), so I gave them some peanut M&Ms and took their picture. This was one of the most integrated and loved I've ever felt in my community. It was my best day so far in Niger. Only two more months until I get to do it all again for Tabaski!