Madly Trying to Update All that I've Done Here

Okay, so here's a little more from my adventures in early December. The Saturday after Thanksgiving in Niamey, I traveled down to Dosso region to see my friend Jyoti, a health Volunteer working in a village along the river. I left early that morning, but evidently not early enough, as I missed my bus down to Margu, a crossroads along the road to Dosso where I had to meet Jyoti and a bush taxi for an exciting 120k trip down a laterite road. Missing my bus meant that we missed the first truck and had to wait until mid-afternoon. The bush taxis in this area are basically open backed trucks that are meant for "goods only," as is clearly stated on paint from when these trucks ran in the developed world. In Niger, they pack goods, people, and farm animals all into the back of the truck and go rocketing through the countryside. It's an amazing, though scary, way to see the landscape, enjoy life, and "relax" while you contemplate what a great run it's been (and praying it continues).

That night, Saturday, we stopped in a major town along the road where Peace Corps has a small transit house. This particular area of the country is painful for transportation, and it often takes Jyoti seven to twelve hours to travel from her village to her regional capital, so Peace Corps established a house in this larger city for Volunteers to stop off and rest along the way, oftentimes because cars stop for the evening in this particular city. It was an uneventful stay, and in the morning we hopped on the early bush taxi to take us the rest of the way to her village.

Unfortunately, about five kilometers down the road, I realized my phone had fallen out of my pocket and we had to get out and start the long walk back. Along the way, we met some Nigeriens on foot. I told them what had happened with my phone and why we were walking back while Jyoti was calling it just in case we heard it. As we were standing there, one of the Nigeriens heard it ringing (or "crying" as the Zarmas say) less than twenty feet from where we were standing. Talk about luck. We'd already walked past it without noticing. It's a simple story, but one that was full of coincidence to me, so back off.

We walked all the way back to the transit house, waited a few hours, and made Jyoti's village by late afternoon. After resting and burning most of the day, her neighbor Carrie, a Volunteer posted about 8k away, just happened to stop by and chat with us. Because both Carrie and Jyoti live alongside the river, they co-own a boat to make trips up and down the river and into Parc W, the national park that runs through Niger and Benin and is host to a variety of species, including elephants, hippos, lions, monkeys, baboons, and parakeets. The next day, Monday, Jyoti's best friend in village, Alfa, took us out on the river and into Parc W. Jyoti's village is located in one of the most beautiful places in Niger. She literally has the park and the river in her backyard. That day, we went deep into the park on her boat with Alfa paddling us the whole way. Over the course of several hours, we saw various birds, including green parakeets and white cranes, several monkeys, and a family of baboons playing in the trees. The trip lasted nearly six hours, with a pause for Alfa to collect firewood and traditional medecine near an immense baobob deep in the park. Check out my facebook profile if you want to see some of the pictures.

Tuesday was market day in Jyoti's village. Going to a bigger bush market like Baleyara or Jyoti's market town really makes me appreciate my smaller bush market, which is a bit crowded at the worst of times and peacefully tranquil at best. We didn't spend a long time at market, but it was enough time to realize that Dosso river towns have far more options in every way than Tillaberi region mesa towns. Jyoti has fresh bananas and guava this time of year, which right there beats anything I could ever possibly imagine in my markets. If it weren't for the Baleyara bread (best in country!), I don't know how I'd make it here. Jyoti's market is an anomaly in Niger, but Hausa land, being closer to Nigeria does get some good food from time to time. My problem is that I'm so far north that fruit and vegetables of any kind are a real luxury at times. After market, and burning away the hot afternoon hours, we built garden beds in her concession, which was a big reason for me to go. It was a cross-sector learning exercise. I taught her about gardens and planting, and in return she, as a health volunteer, showed me around her health hut and the local doctor's office nearby.

We went down to a neighboring village the next day to visit the local doctor's office. The difference in Niger between when Jyoti has (a health hut) and what this town had (a CSI) is that a CSI is staffed, whereas a health hut is, quite literally, just a building where they keep medical supplies, kind of like a big first aid kit, usually staffed by someone who only works when needed.

This was perhaps one of my favorite days of the visit to her village. We walked to the road to get a car, and decided to wait at the gendarme's station. A gendarme is like a military police officer, they work with customs officials and monitor the roads throughout Niger to control traffic and keep peace. One of the gendarmes, a Fulan, was originally from my area. He had served in my market town and knew all the people I knew. He was remarkably intelligent in the Nigerien capacity for subtle knowledge of local languages. He was completely fluent in Zarma, Hausa, Fulani, and French, and knew enough English to communicate with us if we got tired of Zarma. He told us all about the different posts he'd had in Niger, including some where other Volunteers I knew are currently serving. But perhaps one of the most interesting things we talked about was how this gendarme's grandfather had been a storyteller, and how he knew all the Zarma stories, which are a lot like our folk or fairy tales. We talked a lot about the conflict between modernity and tradition and how storytelling was really becoming a lost art form, being abandoned for cell phones and bad action movies from the 1980s. He said that his grandfather used to gather all the children around him at night to tell stories, but with electricity and television, no one was interested in the old stories anymore. The goal, he said, should be trying to find a balance between the old traditions and the convenience of modernity.

We visited the CSI and met Jyoti's doctor friend Indi. After an amazing afternoon that included lunch, a look at the CSI, and naps, we returned to Jyoti's village to plant her gardens and explore the surrounding hamlets. Wow, I wish I could type everything that happened, but there just really isn't time and this is probably getting boring. I'll fast-forward a bit.

My last day in village, Jyoti's friend Alfa took us out on the river again to a French tourist encampment at the foot of a large mesa. It was a nice ride and a great hike, but the best part was the ride back. About half an hour into the return journey Alfa stopped paddling and said "Ce beeri, i ka ga nyum" (The elephants have come to wash). Sure enough about a quarter mile down the river (Nigerien eyesight and hearing is ridiculously good) we heard a great crashing in the reeds by the river's edge. Drawing closer, we came upon about six or eight elephants bathing at the river's edge. Being in the boat meant that we could get within fifty meters of them and just watch as they bathed, tossed mud, and played in the river. I've never been that close to a wild animal that big, and it was truly one of the most awe-inspiring events of my life.

That's all for now. I'm returning to post tomorrow and I have to pack and go to sleep. These last few days in Niamey have been hectic, what with a new stage swearing in, an old stage closing their service and leaving country, a mid-service medical exam, and site installations. I can't believe I'm already nearly a year in, with only a year left until my time here is up. It's gone so fast, and I've heard the second year is even more of a whirlwind.

Kala suuru. I guess we'll see how it goes. Until next time. Irkoy m'ir cabe cere.