The trip out to Diffa required a stop in Zinder. From Dosso, Zinder is typically a 12-hour bus ride. From Zinder, it's seven more hours on broken tarmac to Diffa. There aren't any bus companies that will ply the route from Niamey to Diffa direct. I didn't mind the stop though. It gave me some time to see friends I hadn't seen in months, and Zinder is just a great city to kill a few days. It has some beautiful architecture in the old quarter, and, if you ever need a diversion, you can visit the cookie factory. Thirty or so women making honey and shortbread cookies everyday. It's awesome, but that's beside the point. I stopped off in Zinder and caught a bus out to Diffa at the "what am I doing up this early?" crack of dawn.
As a result, I missed the first half of the trip out to Diffa. It was still early, and I wasn't really concious. The road changed that. It's an old highway, and, while I hear they're going to repair it soon, it's in a pretty dire state. I was fortunate to get such a rude awakening though, as the ride out to Diffa was beautiful. The desert encroaches a bit further south than the rest of the country, which means that instead of subsistence agriculture, you're dealing with subsistence pastureland. Plains stretch to the horizon and are dotted with acacia trees that have all been grazed up above the level of hungry camels. It reminded me a lot of how I feel Kenya or Ethiopia must look: dry savannah interspersed with short, scrubby acacias. If you've ever been to Montana or maybe the Dakotas, they might look pretty similar. And the horses. These were the first horses I'd seen in country that actually looked healthy and well-fed. And why not? You could conceivably ride a horse for days in that landscape, camp under the stars, and never have to worry about food or anything else really. I don't deny I was dreaming of such things, despite the fact that I've never ridden a horse, nor do I have the money to buy one.
We reached Diffa a little after noon, and while I didn't take a long time to explore, I did get to see some beautiful marshlands. Diffa used to be close to Lake Chad, but environmental degradation, repeated drought, and climate change have all had noticable differences on the size of the lake. Diffa, though, is an important wetlands for migratory birds, and the flood plains around the city teem with life during the rainy season. I, however, was anxious to get on to N'guigmi, so I hopped a Land Cruiser bush taxi that afternoon, and, after six excruciating hours in cramped quarters, I arrived at night in the desert.
The trip took six hours, and N'guigmi is only 120km from Diffa. I'll let you imagine what the "road" was like. It's been a long time without any repairs, and with big trucks hauling from Nigeria to Libya, it's taken quite a beating. My bush taxi didn't even use the road for the majority of the trip, and after we passed Kabelawa, we left the road all together, shooting through the desert on paths only the driver knew. This of course takes a dramatic environmental toll on the desert, as eventhough it is a vast sea of sand, it's held in place by short grasses. When the trucks and Land Cruisers tear through the desert (as they have to in deep sand), they rip up the grasses and churn the earth into vast washes of deep sand. Desertification at its finest. We got stuck in one of these churned up chunks of "road," around 8:00 at night. I was not looking forward to spending the night in the desert, but I must say, the moonlight reflected from the pure, white sands reminded me a lot of a quiet winter night at home and looked quite comfortable. We managed to dig ourselves out, which was probably a bit better, as I'd completely forgotten the danger from snakes and scorpions in the desert.
We finally made it to N'guigmi around 9:00 at night, and I somehow managed to wrangle a place to stay. I still have no idea how I managed this. One minute I was talking to a shop owner and the next I was installed in a project rest house with air conditioning and a shower. Not too shabby for the first fifteen minutes in town.
N'guigmi feels like a city at the end of the earth. There's only one main paved road through a provincial town that gleams white from the desert sands. I'd like to say I did more than just take a few bush walks in the desert. I'd like to say I hooked up with a camel caravan and got to see the Grande Tal, an enormous sand dune that stretches over 30km from end to end and 2km across. In reality, however, these things cost money, money I didn't have. The bush walks were beautiful though. The white sand is as fine as powdered sugar and is peaceful and calm at night and deadly during the day. The temperature was well over 120F (48C) during most of the day, and this is during the rainy season. I could not imagine living there during the hot season.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the city though is the diversity. N'guigmi is forty-odd kilometers from the Chadian border, and they deal with Nigerian currency so much that within minutes I was carrying the Nigerian naira, the West African cfa, and the Central African cfa. The people were also a mix: Zarma gendarmes, Arab traders, Toubou herders, Kanouri farmers, and Hausa merchants. And one white guy. The most common question I got from all groups?
"What are you doing here?"
I'm seeing the desert!
"...Why?"
Seems the thing that can best unify Africa is the realization that white folks are just plain crazy.
Anyway, this has turned into a long post, and I didn't mean it to be. I had an amazing time out in the Diffa region, and I definitely plan to go back, despite the pain of travel and the stresses of being in such a remote location. It's beautiful, and I can't stress that enough. This trip was my practice backpacking trip, and I loved it. I think I'm finally ready to get started on the serious stuff come December.
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Solo Traveling and the Desert City
Back from vacation and ready to get back to my village. I've been backpacking around Niger for over two weeks now, seeing a lot of my fellow Volunteers that I haven't seen since I went back to my restricted village in terror alley. It was great to see so many of my friends and to catch up, as well as to have some time to myself to explore. When my service is over in December, I plan on doing a big backpack trip through West Africa, so this was the warm-up for that future event. It was a lot of rough roads and beautiful scenery, but luckily I always had the Peace Corps to fall back on for places to say and villages to visit. If you're truly interested, get your map out and follow my trip!
I started in the Konni/Tahoua region and a visit to my fellow stage-mates Justin and Kathleen. They live near Tahoua, just off the road to Keita. I'd been there before, but the dry season can't compare to the end of rainy season in terms of landscape. Few people know that the Sahara used to be covered in greenery; before the climate changes, the Sahara was forested and had large lakes with plenty of game for the people that lived there. You can see the remains of these vast lake beds near Tahoua. Justin and Kathleen's village is built on the downward slope of a hill that was obviously once the shores of one of these vast inland seas. It's apparent from the fossil remains embedded in the layered rock.
The Regional Representative of the Konni/Tahoua region, who knows the area probably better than any other Volunteer, had given me a tip when I stopped in Birni N'Konni: "Take the laterite road from Madaoua to Tahoua. It's the most beautiful part of the country." So, since I was up near Tahoua, I decided to take his advice. Let's put this in perspective though. I didn't know the schedule for market cars, I don't know the local language (Hausa), and I'm alone. If there's not potential for adventure there, I don't know where you'd find it. The road isn't paved; it's a laterite (red, rocky clay) road the entire way through some pretty magnificent scenery. The truck that I caught to Keita took us along a ridge line that overlooked two valleys filled with gallery acacia forests. Honest to God. Forests. It's something I haven't ever seen in this country.
The road, where it existed took me to Keita in the romantic ideal everyone has of Africa: teetering on the edge of hills where the road has been washed away and is partially collapsed, through three feet of water for half a kilometer, and bumping along at high speeds holding on to the roll bars of an open-backed truck. I'd already seen some amazing scenery by the time I hit Keita. I was assured by a someone waiting near the tasha that the car continuing on to Bouza and Madaoua was on its way. Two hours later, I'd fallen asleep in the middle of town and told that there were no cars going anywhere for the rest of the day. Evidently there was a market in a small bush town along the road to Madaoua and, as a result, there would be no other cars. Great. So I started hoofing it out of town. What choice did I have really? Here I was in a mid-sized Hausa city in the middle of nowhere without any other Volunteers posted nearby. I got picked up by a guy going to the small bush market, and he assured me that if I sat at the gendarme post he'd take me to I could get food and water and a car would eventually come by.
He dropped me in the middle of nowhere. I mean the absolute middle of nowhere. If you've ever been on the backroads in Indiana during the summer, you've inevitable pulled up to an intersection in the country with cornfields on all corners and a view to every horizon for all your trouble. Replace the corn with millet and you've got my hang-out spot for the rest of the afternoon. The gendarmes, when we pulled up, just looked at me like, "What on earth are you doing here?"
The nice thing about Niger for us Zarma speakers is that most of the military/gendarmerie will, at some point in their service, live in or around Niamey, which means they'll pick up at least a little bit of Zarma. It's required for the military to finish high school, which gives them an education far better than the average Nigerien. So if they don't by chance know Zarma, I can get by with my French. Anyway, I spent the afternoon with two gendarmes in the middle of nowhere just hanging out until a truck pulled up just in time to save me from incoming rains. The truck belonged to the local cell phone company, and they gave me a lift all the way back to Konni. I'd survived my early jaunt.
From Konni, I went back to Dosso and on to Kiota, a small city near Birni N'Gaoure. Kiota would be fairly unremarkable if it weren't for a famous religious leader who calls the city home. The Sheik of Kiota is one of the most famous Islamic leaders in West Africa. People come from from as far as Ghana and Senegal on the major holidays to receive his blessing. I was there for Id al Fitr, the end of Ramadan, and because I had the Peace Corps hook-up, I met the sheik and received his blessing for the new year. I definitely needed it for the next few days, when I traveled solo out to Diffa and N'guigmi, the desert cities of eastern Niger. It felt like going to the end of the Earth. I will continue this story in another blog post. Look for it in the next few days.
I started in the Konni/Tahoua region and a visit to my fellow stage-mates Justin and Kathleen. They live near Tahoua, just off the road to Keita. I'd been there before, but the dry season can't compare to the end of rainy season in terms of landscape. Few people know that the Sahara used to be covered in greenery; before the climate changes, the Sahara was forested and had large lakes with plenty of game for the people that lived there. You can see the remains of these vast lake beds near Tahoua. Justin and Kathleen's village is built on the downward slope of a hill that was obviously once the shores of one of these vast inland seas. It's apparent from the fossil remains embedded in the layered rock.
The Regional Representative of the Konni/Tahoua region, who knows the area probably better than any other Volunteer, had given me a tip when I stopped in Birni N'Konni: "Take the laterite road from Madaoua to Tahoua. It's the most beautiful part of the country." So, since I was up near Tahoua, I decided to take his advice. Let's put this in perspective though. I didn't know the schedule for market cars, I don't know the local language (Hausa), and I'm alone. If there's not potential for adventure there, I don't know where you'd find it. The road isn't paved; it's a laterite (red, rocky clay) road the entire way through some pretty magnificent scenery. The truck that I caught to Keita took us along a ridge line that overlooked two valleys filled with gallery acacia forests. Honest to God. Forests. It's something I haven't ever seen in this country.
The road, where it existed took me to Keita in the romantic ideal everyone has of Africa: teetering on the edge of hills where the road has been washed away and is partially collapsed, through three feet of water for half a kilometer, and bumping along at high speeds holding on to the roll bars of an open-backed truck. I'd already seen some amazing scenery by the time I hit Keita. I was assured by a someone waiting near the tasha that the car continuing on to Bouza and Madaoua was on its way. Two hours later, I'd fallen asleep in the middle of town and told that there were no cars going anywhere for the rest of the day. Evidently there was a market in a small bush town along the road to Madaoua and, as a result, there would be no other cars. Great. So I started hoofing it out of town. What choice did I have really? Here I was in a mid-sized Hausa city in the middle of nowhere without any other Volunteers posted nearby. I got picked up by a guy going to the small bush market, and he assured me that if I sat at the gendarme post he'd take me to I could get food and water and a car would eventually come by.
He dropped me in the middle of nowhere. I mean the absolute middle of nowhere. If you've ever been on the backroads in Indiana during the summer, you've inevitable pulled up to an intersection in the country with cornfields on all corners and a view to every horizon for all your trouble. Replace the corn with millet and you've got my hang-out spot for the rest of the afternoon. The gendarmes, when we pulled up, just looked at me like, "What on earth are you doing here?"
The nice thing about Niger for us Zarma speakers is that most of the military/gendarmerie will, at some point in their service, live in or around Niamey, which means they'll pick up at least a little bit of Zarma. It's required for the military to finish high school, which gives them an education far better than the average Nigerien. So if they don't by chance know Zarma, I can get by with my French. Anyway, I spent the afternoon with two gendarmes in the middle of nowhere just hanging out until a truck pulled up just in time to save me from incoming rains. The truck belonged to the local cell phone company, and they gave me a lift all the way back to Konni. I'd survived my early jaunt.
From Konni, I went back to Dosso and on to Kiota, a small city near Birni N'Gaoure. Kiota would be fairly unremarkable if it weren't for a famous religious leader who calls the city home. The Sheik of Kiota is one of the most famous Islamic leaders in West Africa. People come from from as far as Ghana and Senegal on the major holidays to receive his blessing. I was there for Id al Fitr, the end of Ramadan, and because I had the Peace Corps hook-up, I met the sheik and received his blessing for the new year. I definitely needed it for the next few days, when I traveled solo out to Diffa and N'guigmi, the desert cities of eastern Niger. It felt like going to the end of the Earth. I will continue this story in another blog post. Look for it in the next few days.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Time for Vacation (again)
I'm running out of time in Niger. My service ends soon, and my final few months in village will be spent trying to transition my school garden project to the community and the Association des Parents et Eleves. It may not be as impressive as digging a well or building a school, but it is an important project and may be harder than actually starting the school garden. I want the thing to continue long after I'm gone, and the only way to do that is to get the adults in the community excited about it. If I came back in five to ten years, I would want to see that garden still going strong, hopefully with the children doing most of the organization and work.
The next few months before my service ends are packed. I have training for Volunteer trainers, the GRE, and my COS conference at the end of October. I'm training the new Volunteers in early December, and I have a few weeks of vacation to burn up in the meantime. I definitely need the vacation. It's been a long few months since my last one. From the end of hot season through all of rainy season, I've been farming, building rock lines, gardening on my own, and organizing a school garden with elementary/primary school students.
This time of year is one of two that agriculture/environment Volunteers can take vacation. We're allowed whenever we want, but really there's too much work that needs to be done in cold and rainy seasons. However, because I don't have a lot of time left in Niger, I've decided to take the next few weeks to travel around and see all of those in my stage I haven't seen in months. (That's basically everyone out east because of my restrictions.) I'm actually on vacation now, but I'm spending a few days in Niamey to watch the Bears/Packers season opener tomorrow. I've seen two Superbowls in country since I came, and that's all I've gotten of football. I excuse myself this one time.
I wish I could post more, but there isn't much going on right now. I've been farming and gardening and generally trying to avoid everything to do with Niamey. It's a great town, but it's got a lot of baggage that goes with it when you're a bush Volunteer. So that's pretty much it. I'll try to post something happy and uplifting and seemingly amazing (to everyone who doesn't see camels, scorpions, or millet everyday) sometime in the near future. I've been so bad about providing updates I feel like I owe it to all of you. But, until then,
Kala Tonton
The next few months before my service ends are packed. I have training for Volunteer trainers, the GRE, and my COS conference at the end of October. I'm training the new Volunteers in early December, and I have a few weeks of vacation to burn up in the meantime. I definitely need the vacation. It's been a long few months since my last one. From the end of hot season through all of rainy season, I've been farming, building rock lines, gardening on my own, and organizing a school garden with elementary/primary school students.
This time of year is one of two that agriculture/environment Volunteers can take vacation. We're allowed whenever we want, but really there's too much work that needs to be done in cold and rainy seasons. However, because I don't have a lot of time left in Niger, I've decided to take the next few weeks to travel around and see all of those in my stage I haven't seen in months. (That's basically everyone out east because of my restrictions.) I'm actually on vacation now, but I'm spending a few days in Niamey to watch the Bears/Packers season opener tomorrow. I've seen two Superbowls in country since I came, and that's all I've gotten of football. I excuse myself this one time.
I wish I could post more, but there isn't much going on right now. I've been farming and gardening and generally trying to avoid everything to do with Niamey. It's a great town, but it's got a lot of baggage that goes with it when you're a bush Volunteer. So that's pretty much it. I'll try to post something happy and uplifting and seemingly amazing (to everyone who doesn't see camels, scorpions, or millet everyday) sometime in the near future. I've been so bad about providing updates I feel like I owe it to all of you. But, until then,
Kala Tonton
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Back in Niger and Missing Ghana
Made it back safely to Niger for all of you who were worried/concerned/mildly interested. It was a long haul from Kumasi in Ghana back to Niamey, especially as we didn't overnight in Ouagadougou like we should have. Instead we took a bus from Kumasi and had to wait for four hours in Bolgatanga on the Ghana border because the crossing isn't open at 2 am. We got into Ouaga around noon and were assured by a bush taxi driver we could get to Niamey that night. So we went, but around 5 pm, he stopped in a random little town, told us we needed a military escort from Fada N'Gourma that had already left. Evidently there are bandits on the road west of Fada, and escorts only run at specific times. So he left us in the small town and told us to wait for a bus. Really great guy in the end...except that we waited until midnight (over six hours) for a bus to come along. It was the Abijan to Niamey direct, and, interestingly, it's been running nonstop for 4000 years. It was packed to the gills with people and luggage, and we ended up displacing a few people to sit on the floor. Most of the Zarmas I know go to look for money in Côte d'Ivoire (where you'll find Abijan, the main coastal city, for you Geography majors), so the only people going from Abijan to Niamey are a bunch of poor Zarmas returning in time for rainy season. The bus went about an hour down the road to Fada, where we had to get out and wait until 6 am (about four hours total) until we could get the military escort. One would think with a two hour lead, we would get into Niamey earlier than any buses direct from Ouaga, and we might have, if we hadn't had to wait for three hours at the border to pass through customs. I think that was longer than all the combined wait we had at all the customs depots in our entire trip, and our bus even greased the wheels to the tune of about 75,000 cfa ($150) to the customs agents. I refused to pay this bribe, but evidently it's pretty common at the Ouaga/Niamey road customs depot. By the time we'd gotten back to Niamey we'd been on the road a total of 46 hours. That was almost two days without a shower, without any real meals, and almost no real sleep, so needless to say we were pretty glad to get home.
But why start at the end when I can start in the middle? I haven't said anything about Ghana, and that was, after all, a big chunk of our trip. Last time I updated, we were in Hohoe, in the Eastern Region, and we were finishing up the hiking/nature part of our trip. Mary wasn't feeling well in Hohoe, so Jyoti and I went out on our own to Mt. Afadjato and Wli Falls. Mt. Afadjato is Ghana's highest peak at 885m. There's actually a higher point nearby, but because of the relation of its base to its peak, I guess whatever that one is named isn't actually considered a mountain. The hike was tough, taking about two hours, with a rock scramble/climb near the peak, but once we were at the top, the view was beautiful. In one direction, we could see out over the mountains back into Togo, and in the other, we could see all the way to Lake Volta. We had a picnic on the top and ended up back in Hohoe that night. The next day, we went out to Wli Falls. These were nice, but I preferred Akloa Falls in Togo. The Wli Falls are much better set up for tourists, with bridges across streams, wide, well-kept trails, and even trash cans. Trash cans! Irkoy beeri. We should have taken the longer hike up to the top of the falls, but we didn't have the time as we were late leaving Hohoe. It was a beautiful day for hiking, and the falls were lovely, but the coolest thing about the area around the falls is the bat population. There were literally thousands of bats hanging off the cliff during the middle of the day with a few flapping through the mists from the falls whenever they decided they needed to change position.
On the 7th of May, we left Hohoe for Accra at the ungodly hour of 4 am. It actually turned out a little better because it allowed us the full day in Accra, and let me tell you, Accra demands a full day, or in our case three. We were blown away by this city. Compared to anything else we've seen in West Africa, it's like a fully developed, Westernized city. The streets are clean and paved, there's barely any trash on the streets as a result of pretty tough litter laws (litter laws!), and everywhere you look there are modern buildings and brand new cars.
We stayed in Labone, which is where the Peace Corps Volunteers can get a discount on certain hotels. Labone is within walking distance of Osu, where all the ex-pats dine and shop and generally try to avoid the people whose country they inhabit. I'm being a little harsh, but I've developed a generally low opinion of ex-pats. Why live in a country if you just want to shop, eat, dance, and play in areas that look exactly like America or Europe? The main ex-pat supermarket looked like a European chain, where you could get Western perks like Pop-tarts (!), salami, energy drinks, and high-end chocolates like Cadbury and Toblerone. Everything is overpriced because these places, and restaurants and such like them, cater to tastes and desires of places literally a world away. Anyway, we didn't take too much advantage of these places as they were out of our price range. Mary and I went to a trivia night with some Ghana Volunteers at a Champs Sports bar. I don't think there was even one Ghanaian in that restaurant. It looked exactly like a sports bar you'd find in an American mall. It was kind of unsettling. The third day we were there we went to an Irish pub in Osu, and, again, it was like being a world away from Africa.
Our second day in Accra we decided to take a break from the city at the Aburi Botanical Gardens, about an hour outside Accra in the surrounding hills. The gardens were a British invention and house a ton of species from all over West Africa in a classic British hill station set up. Old colonial houses and manicured lawns are the order of the day, but it was more interesting than a traditional botanical garden because it was filled with oddities such as the strangler ficus, a parasitic tree that grows around, envelops, and eventually kills other trees. The one we saw was over one hundred years old. It enveloped its host around 1937, and so, now that the tree is dead and has rotted away over the years, it's left the strangler ficus with a hollow trunk, like a cylindrical tube stretching into the sky.
Our last day in Accra, we decided to hit the markets, and went to the capital's main shopping centre (no, not the mall, eventhough there is one. Yes, a MALL in Africa). Makola Market takes up several city blocks of Accra, but because we went on a Saturday, it stretched out even further on all sides with people hawking fish, fruit, vegetables, shoes, watches, and basically anything else you could ever want. I'm convinced if you searched long enough between the pig's feet and the used electronics, you'd find the Holy Grail. We moved on from there to the National Cultural Centre, where they aggressively sell crafts of every sort from drums to batik, kente to carvings. I think most tourists get taken for a ride, but I found that it is possible to get a few good deals as all the shopkeepers sell remarkably similar things, and they've got to make a living. I don't think I paid more than half their original stated price for anything they sold.
Alright, I need some lunch, so I'll post again later, but while I'm thinking about it, I've got to go on a discourse about Ghanaian food and drink. That night, after the market, we went to an Irish pub where they had Castle Milk Stout on tap. This has now become one of my favorite beers. It's way better than Guiness (at least any Guiness I've had since being in the UK), and, like everything else in Ghana, it's cheap. The beers alone were reason to come to Ghana. From Star to Castle Milk Stout, Stone's to Gulder, every single beer I tasted in Ghana was better than any single beer I'd ever had in Niger. The food consisted of staples like yam and cassava, but their sauces and sides are the tastiest I'd had in a long time. From red red (a spicy bean dish) to palaver sauce (spinach and spices), everything goes well with a side of roast chicken, and it can all be found on the street for less than $3. I'm kind of worried to go back to Nigerien hawru tomorrow night.
But why start at the end when I can start in the middle? I haven't said anything about Ghana, and that was, after all, a big chunk of our trip. Last time I updated, we were in Hohoe, in the Eastern Region, and we were finishing up the hiking/nature part of our trip. Mary wasn't feeling well in Hohoe, so Jyoti and I went out on our own to Mt. Afadjato and Wli Falls. Mt. Afadjato is Ghana's highest peak at 885m. There's actually a higher point nearby, but because of the relation of its base to its peak, I guess whatever that one is named isn't actually considered a mountain. The hike was tough, taking about two hours, with a rock scramble/climb near the peak, but once we were at the top, the view was beautiful. In one direction, we could see out over the mountains back into Togo, and in the other, we could see all the way to Lake Volta. We had a picnic on the top and ended up back in Hohoe that night. The next day, we went out to Wli Falls. These were nice, but I preferred Akloa Falls in Togo. The Wli Falls are much better set up for tourists, with bridges across streams, wide, well-kept trails, and even trash cans. Trash cans! Irkoy beeri. We should have taken the longer hike up to the top of the falls, but we didn't have the time as we were late leaving Hohoe. It was a beautiful day for hiking, and the falls were lovely, but the coolest thing about the area around the falls is the bat population. There were literally thousands of bats hanging off the cliff during the middle of the day with a few flapping through the mists from the falls whenever they decided they needed to change position.
On the 7th of May, we left Hohoe for Accra at the ungodly hour of 4 am. It actually turned out a little better because it allowed us the full day in Accra, and let me tell you, Accra demands a full day, or in our case three. We were blown away by this city. Compared to anything else we've seen in West Africa, it's like a fully developed, Westernized city. The streets are clean and paved, there's barely any trash on the streets as a result of pretty tough litter laws (litter laws!), and everywhere you look there are modern buildings and brand new cars.
We stayed in Labone, which is where the Peace Corps Volunteers can get a discount on certain hotels. Labone is within walking distance of Osu, where all the ex-pats dine and shop and generally try to avoid the people whose country they inhabit. I'm being a little harsh, but I've developed a generally low opinion of ex-pats. Why live in a country if you just want to shop, eat, dance, and play in areas that look exactly like America or Europe? The main ex-pat supermarket looked like a European chain, where you could get Western perks like Pop-tarts (!), salami, energy drinks, and high-end chocolates like Cadbury and Toblerone. Everything is overpriced because these places, and restaurants and such like them, cater to tastes and desires of places literally a world away. Anyway, we didn't take too much advantage of these places as they were out of our price range. Mary and I went to a trivia night with some Ghana Volunteers at a Champs Sports bar. I don't think there was even one Ghanaian in that restaurant. It looked exactly like a sports bar you'd find in an American mall. It was kind of unsettling. The third day we were there we went to an Irish pub in Osu, and, again, it was like being a world away from Africa.
Our second day in Accra we decided to take a break from the city at the Aburi Botanical Gardens, about an hour outside Accra in the surrounding hills. The gardens were a British invention and house a ton of species from all over West Africa in a classic British hill station set up. Old colonial houses and manicured lawns are the order of the day, but it was more interesting than a traditional botanical garden because it was filled with oddities such as the strangler ficus, a parasitic tree that grows around, envelops, and eventually kills other trees. The one we saw was over one hundred years old. It enveloped its host around 1937, and so, now that the tree is dead and has rotted away over the years, it's left the strangler ficus with a hollow trunk, like a cylindrical tube stretching into the sky.
Our last day in Accra, we decided to hit the markets, and went to the capital's main shopping centre (no, not the mall, eventhough there is one. Yes, a MALL in Africa). Makola Market takes up several city blocks of Accra, but because we went on a Saturday, it stretched out even further on all sides with people hawking fish, fruit, vegetables, shoes, watches, and basically anything else you could ever want. I'm convinced if you searched long enough between the pig's feet and the used electronics, you'd find the Holy Grail. We moved on from there to the National Cultural Centre, where they aggressively sell crafts of every sort from drums to batik, kente to carvings. I think most tourists get taken for a ride, but I found that it is possible to get a few good deals as all the shopkeepers sell remarkably similar things, and they've got to make a living. I don't think I paid more than half their original stated price for anything they sold.
Alright, I need some lunch, so I'll post again later, but while I'm thinking about it, I've got to go on a discourse about Ghanaian food and drink. That night, after the market, we went to an Irish pub where they had Castle Milk Stout on tap. This has now become one of my favorite beers. It's way better than Guiness (at least any Guiness I've had since being in the UK), and, like everything else in Ghana, it's cheap. The beers alone were reason to come to Ghana. From Star to Castle Milk Stout, Stone's to Gulder, every single beer I tasted in Ghana was better than any single beer I'd ever had in Niger. The food consisted of staples like yam and cassava, but their sauces and sides are the tastiest I'd had in a long time. From red red (a spicy bean dish) to palaver sauce (spinach and spices), everything goes well with a side of roast chicken, and it can all be found on the street for less than $3. I'm kind of worried to go back to Nigerien hawru tomorrow night.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Bein' in Benin
A week into my first vacation away from Niger. It's been fun, it's been exhausting, but it feels great to get away from that heat.
We crossed into Malanville, on the border with Niger, across the river from Gaya, where Peace Corps has an education Volunteer posted. There were many clauses in that sentence but bear with me. Gaya is the greenest part of Niger. It is the furthest south and gets the most rain, so it's like paradise for most Volunteers who have never left country. As we traveled south through Benin, though, through Kandi and Parakou all the way down to Bohicon, the greenery blew everything Niger has out of the water (If Niger actually had any water, this might be applicable, but again, bear with me). From the savannah grasslands, we slowly worked our way south through the Atakaora Mountains and into dense forest and even jungle. Along the way we saw mountains of mangos, both for sale and just as trash. Benin's farmers have already started planting yams and corn, something which is still at least a month away for Nigerien millet farmers. Just from a bus ride on the main highway we could tell were in the land of milk and honey.
Our first stop was in Abomey, about ten hours south of Malanville and the Niger border. We traveled Inter City bus lines. These buses are brand new and better than anything we have in Niger. Air conditioning, padded seats, leg room, and all the poorly dubbed, bad Brazilian soap operas you could want. And who could resist "Le Retour de Beyonce" (not the singer). Like I said, milk and honey. Abomey is the capital of the old Dahomey empire. The Dahomeyans were a bloody lot. Each king had a birthright to leave a larger territory for his successor. They were constantly at war, and they did a pretty good job of things. By the time the Portugese and the French arrived, the Dahomeyans were in control of most of the country, and their power only expanded with the slave trade. The Dahomeyan empire worked with the Europeans to capture slaves. The more slaves they brought, the more guns, tobacco, and alcohol the Dahomeyans received. At its height, they were moving 20,000 slaves a year through the ports of Ouidah, Grand Popo, and Porto Novo. The kings were unbelievably brutal to their enemies and to friends who no longer entertained them. We saw torture devices, chains, cannons, and all sorts of blood and gore. King Guézo's throne was mounted on the heads of four former enemies. The walls to the fortresses were said to be painted in blood. Unfortunately, not many of these fortresses are still around. Of the twelve original palaces, ten no longer exist, and the city of Abomey is on the UN's list of Endangered World Heritage Sites. The palace in the best condition is that of King Glèlè, which boasts beautiful, though grotesque, bas-relief sculptures depicting the various torture methods employed by the Dahomey empire. He was succeeded by his son Béhanzin, the last king of the last traditional empire in Africa. The French, their colonial power growing, found an excuse in the Dahomeyan "savagery" and, with superior weaponry and tactics, defeated the Dahomeyans, despite their corps of elite fighting women, the only true force of Amazons in history.
From Abomey, we headed down to Cotonou to pick up our visas for Ghana. Cotonou is a ridiculous city. It's the busiest, noisiest, smoggiest city I've ever been too, and that includes New York and London. It seems like every third person has a motorcycle, and all are simultaneously attempting to drive them as fast as possible. We've run into a lot of Peace Corps Volunteers here, even staying a few nights in their bureau workspace, and they have been so more than helpful. They helped with our Ghana visas, found us some great food (Indian, Thai, and Lebanese, it's been so long!), and just generally were great, amazingly friendly people (as most Peace Corps Volunteers are). We took day trips out to the capital Porto Novo, which is really only the capital in name, as everything happens in Cotonou, and to Ouidah, a voodoo stronghold. The south has a lot of great colonial architecture, with Portugese, French, and Brazilian influences. Also, the Voodoo around here is very prevalent. As much as 50% of Beninois claim Voodun as their religion, though I think just about everyone incorporates it into their belief struture at least somewhat.
Now we're in Natitingou in Northern Benin after renting a car for the day with three other Volunteers. Natitingou is in the mountains, and it's beautiful here. It's so much cooler and less humid than anywhere else we've been. Today we took a day trip out to Tanguieta and then to Tanougou to see the waterfalls. The falls are just south of a major safari destination in Park Penjari, but we cannot go because of the expense. We did have a good time exploring the mountains and swimming in the pools, so despite not seeing lions or elephants, we can't complain too much. Tomorrow we'll be heading out for Boukoumbé, on the border with Togo to see the traditional houses of the Betamaribé people, also known as the Somba. They successfully defended themselves from Dahomeyan slave traders because they live spread out in their fields in fortress-like compounds. They store all of their food in granaries within the towers of their houses, so they could hole up for months without any problems. In short, they were too difficult to capture for most slavers. From there we'll cross the border into Togo, and the second week of our vacation will commence. Until then, au revoir.
We crossed into Malanville, on the border with Niger, across the river from Gaya, where Peace Corps has an education Volunteer posted. There were many clauses in that sentence but bear with me. Gaya is the greenest part of Niger. It is the furthest south and gets the most rain, so it's like paradise for most Volunteers who have never left country. As we traveled south through Benin, though, through Kandi and Parakou all the way down to Bohicon, the greenery blew everything Niger has out of the water (If Niger actually had any water, this might be applicable, but again, bear with me). From the savannah grasslands, we slowly worked our way south through the Atakaora Mountains and into dense forest and even jungle. Along the way we saw mountains of mangos, both for sale and just as trash. Benin's farmers have already started planting yams and corn, something which is still at least a month away for Nigerien millet farmers. Just from a bus ride on the main highway we could tell were in the land of milk and honey.
Our first stop was in Abomey, about ten hours south of Malanville and the Niger border. We traveled Inter City bus lines. These buses are brand new and better than anything we have in Niger. Air conditioning, padded seats, leg room, and all the poorly dubbed, bad Brazilian soap operas you could want. And who could resist "Le Retour de Beyonce" (not the singer). Like I said, milk and honey. Abomey is the capital of the old Dahomey empire. The Dahomeyans were a bloody lot. Each king had a birthright to leave a larger territory for his successor. They were constantly at war, and they did a pretty good job of things. By the time the Portugese and the French arrived, the Dahomeyans were in control of most of the country, and their power only expanded with the slave trade. The Dahomeyan empire worked with the Europeans to capture slaves. The more slaves they brought, the more guns, tobacco, and alcohol the Dahomeyans received. At its height, they were moving 20,000 slaves a year through the ports of Ouidah, Grand Popo, and Porto Novo. The kings were unbelievably brutal to their enemies and to friends who no longer entertained them. We saw torture devices, chains, cannons, and all sorts of blood and gore. King Guézo's throne was mounted on the heads of four former enemies. The walls to the fortresses were said to be painted in blood. Unfortunately, not many of these fortresses are still around. Of the twelve original palaces, ten no longer exist, and the city of Abomey is on the UN's list of Endangered World Heritage Sites. The palace in the best condition is that of King Glèlè, which boasts beautiful, though grotesque, bas-relief sculptures depicting the various torture methods employed by the Dahomey empire. He was succeeded by his son Béhanzin, the last king of the last traditional empire in Africa. The French, their colonial power growing, found an excuse in the Dahomeyan "savagery" and, with superior weaponry and tactics, defeated the Dahomeyans, despite their corps of elite fighting women, the only true force of Amazons in history.
From Abomey, we headed down to Cotonou to pick up our visas for Ghana. Cotonou is a ridiculous city. It's the busiest, noisiest, smoggiest city I've ever been too, and that includes New York and London. It seems like every third person has a motorcycle, and all are simultaneously attempting to drive them as fast as possible. We've run into a lot of Peace Corps Volunteers here, even staying a few nights in their bureau workspace, and they have been so more than helpful. They helped with our Ghana visas, found us some great food (Indian, Thai, and Lebanese, it's been so long!), and just generally were great, amazingly friendly people (as most Peace Corps Volunteers are). We took day trips out to the capital Porto Novo, which is really only the capital in name, as everything happens in Cotonou, and to Ouidah, a voodoo stronghold. The south has a lot of great colonial architecture, with Portugese, French, and Brazilian influences. Also, the Voodoo around here is very prevalent. As much as 50% of Beninois claim Voodun as their religion, though I think just about everyone incorporates it into their belief struture at least somewhat.
Now we're in Natitingou in Northern Benin after renting a car for the day with three other Volunteers. Natitingou is in the mountains, and it's beautiful here. It's so much cooler and less humid than anywhere else we've been. Today we took a day trip out to Tanguieta and then to Tanougou to see the waterfalls. The falls are just south of a major safari destination in Park Penjari, but we cannot go because of the expense. We did have a good time exploring the mountains and swimming in the pools, so despite not seeing lions or elephants, we can't complain too much. Tomorrow we'll be heading out for Boukoumbé, on the border with Togo to see the traditional houses of the Betamaribé people, also known as the Somba. They successfully defended themselves from Dahomeyan slave traders because they live spread out in their fields in fortress-like compounds. They store all of their food in granaries within the towers of their houses, so they could hole up for months without any problems. In short, they were too difficult to capture for most slavers. From there we'll cross the border into Togo, and the second week of our vacation will commence. Until then, au revoir.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Isolation and Vacation
Hello all. Apologies for the inexcusable lack of posts lately. I've been back in village hiding from the terrorists. Would you know it, the village hasn't gotten around to installing wireless yet. Lazy is what I say. Though maybe they need the electricity and the running water before they start worrying about checking their email.
I never introduced the restrictions, and for that I apologize. I actually lost the sheet that spelled them all out. What it basically comes down to is that I have to maintain as low a profile as possible. That means, to the American embassy, that I cannot leave my village more than once a month. I can go to market because it is only a kilometer away. I cannot go to any of the other villages along the road, or go to see my friends at the French government site. I'm not allowed to go north or west of the paved road, which is unfortunate because it means I cannot explore the mesas looming over my village, and I will have to find new fields come rainy season. (But I have been cleared if I farm with my villagers, which could be fun. I might take that into consideration.) Only Nigerien staff members can visit my site, and only if they take a bush taxi. No American government vehicles are allowed to go up my road. This includes diplomatic missions, Peace Corps, and USAID. In addition, no Volunteer is allowed to visit, and the two younger Volunteers, my closest neighbors were both forced to relocate villages in the Dosso region. So I am now 120km away from anyone, not allowed to go anywhere, nor allowed to see any other Americans for weeks at a time. It's just me, my village, and my villagers.
So how's it been? Surprisingly, not as bad as I had thought. My integration has skyrocketed. Indeed, it had no choice but to get better as I never see anyone else. I only speak English when my family calls or when I talk to myself (which happens disturbingly often these days. I really hope my villagers don't think I'm schizo or possessed by spirits or something). My Zarma has gotten pretty strong. I'm confident in it, and I've begun relearning French. This is a bit harder because the African accent tends to chew all the words together.
I've also started real work in village. My gardens all died while I was away because my gardener friend didn't bother to water them. I guess he thought I wasn't coming back. But I've been working with my women's group to improve their large garden, and I have also started work on a school garden. By July, I'll be teaching small children gardening, health, and nutrition. I don't know why they allowed me near children, but it's pretty hard to warp minds in a different language. Rainy season will be busy, what with the women's garden project, the school garden, and my fields.
But for now, it's hot season. It hasn't been too bad, but the seasonal calendar basically eliminates any work for an agriculture Volunteer at this point in time. If my gardens hadn't died I could still have tomatoes and peppers, but there's no use crying over dead plants. I've not been doing a whole lot. I occasionally take morning walks around Damana, but it's getting too hot for much activity. I had one run-in with heat stress which basically shut down my body's internal thermostat. Not too fun. So I've just been chillin' in the shade, visiting my friends, and chatting. I've started playing soccer with the teachers and older students in the evening. You want a workout, try playing football/soccer with anyone in a developing country. They're so freaking good. Playing in the desert is about like snorting sand, but you get used to it. Anytime a large chunk of cow sh*t can change the outcome of the game, well you know you're bound to have fun.
And now I'm in Niamey because I'm going on vacation in three days. I'm so excited. This is my first vacation. I've been in village for over a year now. (!) My how time flies. Three of us are going down to Benin, Togo, and Ghana, with a return trip through Burkina Faso. We'll escape the Nigerien heat, as all these countries are cooler because of the coast. We'll also be in the mountains, on the beach, in Ghana's lake district, Togo's coffee country, and Benin's voodoo regions. All this and slave history to boot. Don't you wish you could come along?
Well that's about all I have the patience for right now. Hope everyone out there is safe and happy. Until next time.
Sterling
I never introduced the restrictions, and for that I apologize. I actually lost the sheet that spelled them all out. What it basically comes down to is that I have to maintain as low a profile as possible. That means, to the American embassy, that I cannot leave my village more than once a month. I can go to market because it is only a kilometer away. I cannot go to any of the other villages along the road, or go to see my friends at the French government site. I'm not allowed to go north or west of the paved road, which is unfortunate because it means I cannot explore the mesas looming over my village, and I will have to find new fields come rainy season. (But I have been cleared if I farm with my villagers, which could be fun. I might take that into consideration.) Only Nigerien staff members can visit my site, and only if they take a bush taxi. No American government vehicles are allowed to go up my road. This includes diplomatic missions, Peace Corps, and USAID. In addition, no Volunteer is allowed to visit, and the two younger Volunteers, my closest neighbors were both forced to relocate villages in the Dosso region. So I am now 120km away from anyone, not allowed to go anywhere, nor allowed to see any other Americans for weeks at a time. It's just me, my village, and my villagers.
So how's it been? Surprisingly, not as bad as I had thought. My integration has skyrocketed. Indeed, it had no choice but to get better as I never see anyone else. I only speak English when my family calls or when I talk to myself (which happens disturbingly often these days. I really hope my villagers don't think I'm schizo or possessed by spirits or something). My Zarma has gotten pretty strong. I'm confident in it, and I've begun relearning French. This is a bit harder because the African accent tends to chew all the words together.
I've also started real work in village. My gardens all died while I was away because my gardener friend didn't bother to water them. I guess he thought I wasn't coming back. But I've been working with my women's group to improve their large garden, and I have also started work on a school garden. By July, I'll be teaching small children gardening, health, and nutrition. I don't know why they allowed me near children, but it's pretty hard to warp minds in a different language. Rainy season will be busy, what with the women's garden project, the school garden, and my fields.
But for now, it's hot season. It hasn't been too bad, but the seasonal calendar basically eliminates any work for an agriculture Volunteer at this point in time. If my gardens hadn't died I could still have tomatoes and peppers, but there's no use crying over dead plants. I've not been doing a whole lot. I occasionally take morning walks around Damana, but it's getting too hot for much activity. I had one run-in with heat stress which basically shut down my body's internal thermostat. Not too fun. So I've just been chillin' in the shade, visiting my friends, and chatting. I've started playing soccer with the teachers and older students in the evening. You want a workout, try playing football/soccer with anyone in a developing country. They're so freaking good. Playing in the desert is about like snorting sand, but you get used to it. Anytime a large chunk of cow sh*t can change the outcome of the game, well you know you're bound to have fun.
And now I'm in Niamey because I'm going on vacation in three days. I'm so excited. This is my first vacation. I've been in village for over a year now. (!) My how time flies. Three of us are going down to Benin, Togo, and Ghana, with a return trip through Burkina Faso. We'll escape the Nigerien heat, as all these countries are cooler because of the coast. We'll also be in the mountains, on the beach, in Ghana's lake district, Togo's coffee country, and Benin's voodoo regions. All this and slave history to boot. Don't you wish you could come along?
Well that's about all I have the patience for right now. Hope everyone out there is safe and happy. Until next time.
Sterling
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