Site Live-In

August 29, 2009

This morning I am in Niamey before returning to Hamdalleye for my last two weeks of training. I came in last night after staying four days at “site,” the place where I will be living for the next two years! In all honesty I couldn’t be more pleased with my placement. The town is very nice, clean, (for now) very green, full of interesting people, and host to several NGOs. It’s big enough that I can buy whatever I might need, especially on market days. In fact, my new home boasts a population that is significantly larger than my hometown, Plains, Montana. I am still debating which is more developed. Also, the people at the mayor’s office where I will be working are incredible nice. I am really looking forward to getting to know them and working with them.

The mayor himself already asked me to be his computer and English tutor, and the Secretariet General (my direct supervisor) is fun in a slightly eccentric way. He talks to himself a lot. One of the big events of my live-in was when the mayor and the S.G. took me to a commune counsel meeting. (A commune in Niger is basically the equivalent of a county in the U.S.) Starting at eight in the morning they loaded me up into a pickup and then drove me (and five other counsel members) out to a nearby town. At the meeting the mayor introduced me as the commune’s new Peace Corps volunteer. The meeting was conducted in French and Zarma, so I had a hard time understanding it—all six hours… That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I sat in an unlit, breeze-less classroom, full of flies and listened to 30 people animatedly debate various subject in two languages that I can barely understand for six hours. My personal goal for myself was to not fall asleep in front of my new colleagues, and you will be proud to know I was at least 87 % successful in fulfilling this goal. Six hours. No breaks. No lunch (because it’s Ramadan and everyone is fasting anyway). At one point the S.G. tried to get me to go buy some water for myself, but I just sat out under a tree and napped. One of the other volunteers had warned me beforehand that, “Nigerien meetings are crazy,” but I had no idea. There was also a lot of yelling… A lot.

On my way to site we had to drop off several other volunteers, so unfortunately by the time I made it to my town it was already dark. The volunteer who was supposed to stay with me my first night in village thought it would be better to wait until it was light to move it, so I spent the first night at a Peace Corps hostel. I was so tired, I was glad to be able to just make a bed up for myself and sleep without worrying about getting settled.

I moved in the next morning and I LOVE MY HOUSE!! It’s tiny, but still much larger than I need. The front room is smaller, but big enough for me to fit a table with a stove and my water filter, a trunk with my food and a mat for me to sit on. (I would like to take a moment to note that as I am writing this I am deliriously tired and just tried to spell mat, m-a-t-t. I apologize for any other strange errors or typos that might be in this post.) The back room of my house is huge—but very much like a cave. I don’t have electricity, so the its almost always dark and mysterious. I think that (in spite of its size) it will just be an oversized closet.

Then there is the magic of my tanda. A tanda is a shade hanger in front of a house and is key to both privacy and comfort. If a person doesn’t have a shade hanger you are forced to nap inside you sweltering house, and everyone can see in your door, or just walk into your house. We were all warned before live-in that all things in Niger move slower than one would think humanly possible, and we should be prepared to show up to tanda-less houses. Sure enough, when I came my house was sans tanda. I was a little disappointed, but accepted that I may be just a little uncomfortable for the next four days.

Later in the morning, after I had moved in, my host PCV took me to the mayor’s office to introduce me to my new boss and co-workers. The mayor and S.G. were surprised and upset to learn that I had already moved into my house and had not waited for them to install me there. “That is just like Americans. They always just go, and never ask,” the S.G. remarked in French to the mayor. I felt bad. I didn’t know that they had wanted to be there when I moved in, but it ended up working out in my favor because it became the mayor and S.G.’s mission to build me a tanda.

I spent the rest of the day speeding around the market in the commune’s pickup, buying tanda supplies. Then the next day, IN ONE DAY, my tanda was built. Amazing. As it was happening, I kept trying to talk my expectations down, not allowing myself to believe the thing would actually get built. And its Ramadan! During Ramadan, everyone is usually so wiped from not eating or drinking that things move even slower than slower-than-humanly-possible. Also, everyone is 74% crankier. I wanted to buy a cold water guy who spent the whole day laboring to build me my tanda, but he wouldn’t have accepted it. So now I have a magical, build-in-one-day-which-says-something-about-the-productivity-of-the-mayor’s-office tanda.

I took pictures of my house for you all to see, but I left them back at the hostel. So, I can’t upload them…maybe in another six weeks.

I spend the rest of the four days setting up my house, sweeping, figuring out how to get water, and getting to know the ladies in my concession. I REALLY like my neighbors. I haven’t figured out who is who yet, but let me tell you I am living with some sassy ladies. One of them is super intense and would burst into my house unannounced, but I think we’re going to be good friends. She brought me dinner one night, gave me eggs, and even brought me a block of ice. She was taken aback to learn that I didn’t have electricity, and insisted that before I return to my house I buy a cooler so that I can keep ice.

The water situation is something else in my town. There are more than 7,000 people and one pump. One pump, no wells. There is also the river right nearby, but it’s not exactly clean. I think that water is going to end up being one of my biggest expenses and already find myself recycling my water in ways that I would never dream of in the States. Water to boil pasta turns into tea water. Rinse water turns into dishwater, etc, etc. Since I don’t have running water, the water that I buy sits in big jug in my house, and let me tell you I have never been more aware of how much I was drinking or washing with.

I told my APCD (the guy in the Peace Corps who is in charge of me) that I was interested in water projects, and I think that that may have had something to do with my placement here. The good news is that when I get set up I can buy river water for washing and showering, but until then I am paying warnaka for one bido—which is outrageous!!

So what’s the plan for the rest of my two years? I can tell you how the next two months will go. I am returning to Hamdalleye for two and a half weeks of training. Allah willing, September 10th I will swear in as a real volunteer and then be “installed” at my site. The first month in village I have to stay at my site—I’m not allowed to travel. Luckily I am the center of a cluster of volunteers, so I still may get visitors from time to time. After the first month, I am allowed to travel, but I can’t start “work” for another two months. Basically I have three months to get a handle on the language and get to know my village. Then I will return to Hamdalleye for three weeks in In-Service Training.

I find “getting to know everyone in my village” pretty intimidating considering its size. My new town is very different from where I’m living now. Instead of open concessions, with low walls and people everywhere, the concessions at my site have high walls and have huge metal doors. As I mentioned, with the fast, most people spend the day sleeping, so it’s hard to find energetic playmates. Though, I’ve been told that it’s perfectly acceptable for me to just knock on any door and say, “Hey, I’m a Peace Corps volunteer. Let’s talk, and you can feed me.” Things will also get easier when Ramadan ends and people aren’t sleeping all day long. Either way, I’m definitely not in Bartcawal any more.

As for Internets, it appears to be working. I am actually using wireless right now at the one café in Niamey where all foreigners and ex-pats get their ice cream, pizza, and air conditioning. I’m going to try and upload some photos too. Hopefully, I will be able to come back here next Sunday, but, as magically as it appeared, the Internet may die again…and it could be another six weeks before I post.

I love you all! And hope that things are going well state-side!