Last Days of Training

September 13, 2009

About a week ago I said good-bye to my homestay family in Bartcawal and moved up to the training site in Hamdallaye. I was surprised at how difficult it was to say good-bye to them. The morning I left, they all helped me carry my things to the road and waited for the Peace Corps car with me. My homestay mom even came out to wait. My language skills are still too limited to express the depth of my gratitude, so we all just stood there saying, “I am thankful for everything,” back and forth. Also, people don't really hug here, so all I could do was wave vigorously.

The hardest person for me to say good-bye to was Abdoulai. Over the past nine weeks he went from being utterly terrified to me, to throwing his arms around my knees and grinning, every time I came home. He would always try and climb on my lap, or get a piece of whatever I was eating. He also came to standing outside my hut and yelling his version of my name, “Atou,” to try and get me to play with him. The moment that I knew I was totally done for came one night when I was holding him on my lap, wearing a new, traditional head wrap. Abdoulai leaned back into my chest and looked up, then pointed at my headscarf and said, “a boori,” which translates as “it’s good.” His mom and sister freaked out when it happened, because this was Abdoulai's first time using the most common phrase in the Zarma language. My heart melted right then and there.

I will get to visit my family again when I go back to Hamdallaye in three months for more training, but I can’t imagine how much bigger Abdoulai will be by then. Even after returning from my week at site live-in, he seemed to have gotten bigger. No matter how bad of a day I may have had, getting a hug from him always made me feel better. And, to be honest, the kids in my new concession just aren’t as cute. That’s how it goes I guess; everything is always changing. With that in mind, don’t be surprised if I show up to America in two years with a newly adopted son.

The week after I left Bartcawal was outrageously busy (which is why we stayed at site and not in village). Monday we had regular classes. Tuesday we drove into Niamey for administrative sessions and a special you’re-actually-real-volunteers-now BBQ. Wednesday we went back to Niamey mid-day for an all-evening fund-raising event for Gender and Development (GAD). GAD is actually a pretty special thing, specific to Peace Corps Niger. Some volunteers have taken it upon themselves to help raise money for certain Peace Corps projects—the ones supporting Gender and Development… Anyway, every year they host an auction, talent show, and dinner to earn money and invite a huge portion of the NGO/Volunteer community in Niger.

At the auction I may or may not have spent the equivalent of $20 to win a bag of peanut M&Ms, jelly bellys, and pudding. They were all delicious. My training class also made quite a splash during the talent show. We actually dominated the bill with award-winning performances, including: a Frank Sinatra acoustic solo, a rap about Niger, an series of animal impressions, and an interpretive dance of our nine weeks of training to the Lion King Theme. I laughed so hard my checks were streamed with tears and began to ache. The best part was that the whole thing took place at the American Recreation Center, which has a pool. So for a few hours, I actually felt completely clean. It was a strange sensation.

The next day, Thursday, was our big day: Swear-In. We got up early and did a run through of the ceremony logistics—officially our last session of Pre-Service Training. After breakfast, we were taken to Niamey once more. We were allowed to run wild until 3 PM, at which point we donned our traditional Nigerien outfits, and were driven to the America Ambassador’s residence for the ceremony. I must say, she has some nice digs. Showing up at the gate of her house you might not guess it, but a paradise lies just beyond the metal detectors. She (or whoever is willing to take the job) is given a huge house with a pool, an amazing garden, a view of the Niger River, tennis courts, and a horse that wanders around the yard.

For those who don’t know, I was elected by my peers to give a speech in Zarma. I practiced quite a bit beforehand, and felt ready when the time came. Luckily too, there weren’t as many attendees as I imagined. As I walked to the podium, I took a deep breath. But, before I could begin I was swarmed by four or five Nigeriens setting up TV cameras and a guy sticking a tape recorder in my face. Yikes!

Even after all the tour guiding, project presenting, and interviewing I’ve done, giving this speech was hard for me. But, as I said in the speech (the full transcript is below), the hardest things are what make you grow the most. It was over before I knew it. Everyone seemed to think it went well, but I didn’t believe them until today, when I watched the video. I don’t seem even a fraction as nervous as I was. I actually seem somewhat composed… And the best part is that you all have no idea if I made any mistakes…because it’s in Zarma! The video is (probably) available on facebook. I say probably because there are still 43 minutes left of upload time, and I'm hungry.

After my speech, Shuruq delivered an excellent addressed in Hausa, and Alice did the same in French. Then the Peace Corps Country Director’s turn came. She alternated between French and English so that everyone could understand. The U.S. Ambassador did the same in her speech. Then finally the Nigerien Foreign Minister spoke, which was all French, but I could pick up her references to JFK's vision of Peace Corps. All three of the speakers reminded us of the courage and character a person must have to undertake such an adventure as Peace Corps Niger. Of course, like all weddings, human-interest stories, and insurance commercials—the speeches made me cry. To conclude the ceremony we took the official Peace Corps oath in French and English.



So now, I am an O-F-F-I-C-I-A-L PCV! I was surprised by the amount of relief I felt driving back to Hamdallaye for our last meal together, like maybe the hardest part is over? But then remembering the trials the next few months will hold, I think that can’t possibly be true.


Friday was a recovery day, during which we all accessed our PC bank accounts for the first time. I'm rich! To support our cushy lives as volunteers, we get paid about $2/day. I was thinking about it though, and I really think I could get by on a dollar a day, 450 CFA.

Saturday morning there were some tears as everyone departed for their respective regions. Since I am in the Tilliberri region, I am spared the grueling 11-hour trip out east, stuffed in a land cruiser with ten other volunteers and all their belongings. I slept in, had a leisurely breakfast, and then was driven the 35 km to Niamey. As a special Tilliberri-region perk we were able to attend a potluck at the Ambassador’s house, in commemoration of the end of her three-year service in Niger. All I have to say is: free food, drinks, access to her pool, Oreos, and ice cream. Ice cream. OREOS! My body went into a state of self-defense and convinced my mind it was necessary to take in as many calories as possible to save up for later. I didn’t know I could eat two helpings of lunch, four helpings of dessert, two sodas, and an ice cream cone, in a three-hour period.

So far today I have eaten breakfast, checked my email, watched TV, eaten lunch, watched TV, and written this. It’s now almost 5:30 PM. This is the first time I’ve been able to be lazy since before I left the States. It feels amazing. Also, I have to tell you that both the cab driver who took me to breakfast this morning and my waiter at the restaurant recognized my from my televised Zarma-address.

Tomorrow I will make one last shopping trip for house-wares before I leave for my post. I pretty much just get dropped off and am left to my own devices for three months. I plan on writing out a schedule so that I don’t drive myself insane with constant activity. After the first month, I am allow to travel and after three months, it’s back to Hamdallaye for In-Service Training and a reunion with my training class. BUT, no matter how you look at it, describe it, fill it, or rationalize it, the first three months at post are almost always the hardest. Guh! I will report back mid-October when I get to come in to Niamey, and let you all know how it’s going.

Zarma Speech

Here is a copy of the speech I made for swear in. There are a few phrases that didn’t translate into English well, so parts may seem a bit awkward. Also, Zarma doesn’t have complicated sentence structure, as a result the translation isn’t 100% faithful…because I love clause-heavy writing.




Zarma Version

Peace Corps ma ga, ay go ga aran kulu. Fonda kayan. Ay go ga saabu aran se nda suro kan aran go ga dan ga iri hangan.

Ay hamburu kayna kan Peace Corps ne ay se kan ay go ga ka Niger ga te jiri hinka, zama ay si Niger bey gumo gumo. Cimi-cimi ay si bey nankan hare Niger go Africa ra kala kan ay na ndyunya karto gune. Amma, ba kan ay na karto gune ay man ma kaani. Ay di kan Niger ga moru Amerik gumo-gumo. Woodin banda mo, Niger ga fayanka nda Amerik gumo-gumo. Kan ay go ga sola ga ka, ay sobay ga foongu sandey kan go ga ay batu Niger ra jiri hinka wo kan ay ga ba ga te.

Amma za kan iri ka Niger, iri di kan sandey din manti sandeyan no koyne. Kayna-kanya Niger nwarey sintin ga kanu iri se. Iri ga hin ga dan Niger bankarey. Iri stagere jerey sintin ga waani Niger nwarey hinayan. Yadinga stagairey kan si waani Niger nwarey hineyan hima ga mey haw.

Habu yegga wo kan iri te Niger ra, boorey kulu na iri kubayni gumo-gumo. Iri coro taagey Bartcawal nda Hamdalley ra na iri ga gumo-gumo ga iri sandey bonza. i ga ba iri ma zada. Woodin se iri go ga Niger boorey kulu saabu gumo-gumo. Ay go ga ay Bartcawal almeyalo saabu gumo gumo kan i n’ay gaayi nda bine fo, i n’ay sambu sanda ingey ize. Bine kaani bambata no iri se hunkuna kan iri go ga sintin ga goy aran Niger laabo ra. Iri Niger laabu ra, zama hunkuna iri kulu wone ne.

Hunkuna iri na cere margu neyo ga iri stajo banyanno buco te, nda iri jiri hinka kan iri ga te Niger ra koyne. Ay go ga ci ay caley se i ma fongu kan handey kan go ga ka ga taabandi gumo-gumo, zama i ra no iri ga sintin ga te goyteri cim-cimyan. Si ka Kulsi. Yardin no ndunya.

Amerik ra iri ga ne nda boro man taabi a si du. No pain, no gain. Amma, nda boro ga ba cabeyan hanno ni ma du ga goro Niger ra boro ma koy Niger booreydo. Wa foongu kan nda boro si ga ma kaani, Niger boorey caabeyan hinza go no kan iri si dirgan a bada, kala suru, kala suuru, kala suuru.

English Version

I am here today, speaking on behalf of Peace Corps, blessings on your arrival. Thank you all for your patience during our ceremony.

When Peace Corps first told me that I was to serve two years in Niger, in truth, I was a little scared. I didn’t know very much about Niger. To be completely honest, I wasn’t exactly sure where Niger was in Africa. But after I looked at a map, I was still uneasy. I saw that Niger was very far from America, isolated, and difficult to travel to. What’s more, I knew that Niger would be very different from my home. As I prepared to come, the thought most prominent in my mind was that the next two years would be hard for me—it would be a challenge.

But, upon our arrival we discovered that many of the challenges we feared were not so large. We have learned to love the food, and how to wear Nigerien clothing. Some of us have even learned how to prepare Nigerien food. Those of us who don’t learn how to cook will have to learn how to fast.

The nine weeks we have spent in Niger, everyone has shown us an incredible amount of hospitality. Our new friends in Bartcawal and Hamdallaye have helped us overcome many of the challenges we faced. They wanted us to succeed, and for that we are deeply thankful. I want to add that I am especially grateful to my family in Bartcawal for loving me with one heart, and taking me in as their own daughter. Today, we our hearts feel huge as we begin our work in your country—our country—because today we are also Nigerien.

We have come here today to celebrate the end of our training, and the beginning of our two years of service. I want to warn my colleagues that in the months that come, we will all suffer a great deal as we begin to build a life for ourselves in Niger. There is no doubt. This is how the world is.

In America we say that if a person doesn’t suffer, he or she doesn’t get it. No pain, no gain. But, as one might expect, the best advice for living in Niger comes from the Nigeriens. Therefore, if you are struggling, remember the Nigerien's three favorite pieces of advice: Have patience, have patience, and have patience.

August 31st, 2009


Here are a few pictures from a "fashion show that our training class did. Our homestay families lent us all their formal garb so that we could learn about appropriate dress...and look silly.



Below: The Bartcawal crew. We like to joke that we are all unoffically Chad's (a.k.a. Hassane Ide) four wives, and as you can see from the picture, we are a very becoming family.



I'm the one in the yellow.