October 26, 2010
Today was a busy day in Ville; the government was giving aid through flour distribution, while UNICEF was providing aid through powdered milk distribution. I met with the headmaster of a local school and then sat in on an English class. This was topped off by a wonderful meal of wake da shinkafa (rice and beans) made by my wonderful neighbors (I’m pretty sure they’re trying to fatten me up).
I am currently sitting inside the main room of the mairie, let me tell you what I see. Three parked motorcycles, a wheel barrel, a fan (sadly not working because the power is out), a couple of simple desks and several chairs in various forms of disarray, including the one I’m currently sitting on. It is a nice office chair, but whenever I attempt to move I am reminded about how where wheels once were, there are no more. I’m sitting here collecting my thoughts while drinking a cold soda (Pepsi sadly, but a generous gift from the mayor), and feeling somewhat guilty at the luxury of typing on my computer as a man plucks at a typewriting in the next room.
I’ve made several observations over the past week, so I’ll do my best to organize them in a readable way.
Disabilities and Poverty:
I’d like to talk a bit about mental and physical disabilities and how they relate to poverty in Niger. First, it’s important to note that Niger is a culture of begging. While it is not admired, it is not necessarily a frowned upon activity either. Meet people in the street (kids and adults) and they may ask you for a cadeau (gift). It’s just what’s done. Perhaps they are using Millard Fuller’s philosophy on fundraising - you never get anything you don’t as for, but I think it’s a bit more systematic than that.
Let’s add into this picture the many people in Niger with visual physical disabilities. Conditions that in wealthier countries would often not be seen because of better prenatal care and nutrition and medical “fixes” for many conditions. I can’t tell you the number of people I have seen without major areas of their bodies, or with major “deformities”. While I don’t have any first hand experience with this in Niger, I am amazed to see the kindness of family members as they carry those who can’t walk and lead those who cannot see. Bud from what I gather, these are the lucky ones.
Sadly, almost all of the people that I have seen with such conditions are begging for a living. Sometimes they are selling their goods to passersby, but more often than not, they are relying on the stark vision of their conditions to gain the sympathy of strangers and through such means collect enough money to eat for the day. I wonder what, if any, government or NGO programs are available for such individuals? I wonder what their lives must be like. But above all, I wonder about the people I don’t see. The people whose maladies keep them hidden. What happens to the people who’s family reject them or don’t have the means to take care of them? These questions are valid throughout the world, but in my opinion, more so in a country riddled with poverty, where the vast majority of the population are living day to day.
Education:
As I mentioned earlier, I sat in a class with 65 students this morning as they reviewed the past participle in the English language. Sixty-five students in a large, hot room. It was often hard to hear, but the students paid rapt attention and competed to answer questions by raising their hands, snapping their fingers and saying “me, sir“ (all done in one motion). It was obvious that the students were there to learn. The school I visited was a private high school and therefore much better equipped and conditioned than the public schools, where one is likely to find a room made of millet stalk. There was one thing they had in common however: a very small percentage of girls in attendance. In this class of 65, only 8 girls were present. In fact, this problem of (in my opinion) epidemic proportions, is evident throughout the developing world. In Niger, girls as young as 12 are often missing from the classroom because they have gotten married. Once a girl is married, she has responsibilities at home that take priority over schooling, namely, having babies and taking care of their husbands and families. Even if a girl is not married at such a young age, it is the goal for them to become married and since an education is not necessarily a top quality one is looking for in a wife, parents will often prefer their daughters to be making money or working the fields than in a classroom.
I hope to be able to work more on this issue over the next two years.
Text Messaging and Illiteracy:
As is true in many places throughout the world, text messaging is a huge method of communication in Niger (thank goodness, I can’t imagine life without it). What confuses me is how this practice coincides with the fact that only 27% of the population over age 15 is literate (only 8% of women). Currently, aside from Americans and Peace Corps staff, I primarily text with Nigeriens with a modest to high level of education. But in those circumstances when I’ve texted with individuals with less formal education (and with some of the better educated people as well), I have noticed that the writing is very much a mirror image of speaking. Words are spelled as they sound, and the breaks between words is haphazard or non-existent. Reading - or better yet, decoding, these messages can be extremely difficult. In fact, on one occasion I was so baffled at a message I received that I showed it to the person the next time I saw them and asked them what they wrote. They had no idea! And here I thought conveying sarcasm electronically was difficult!
I wonder if anyone is doing research on this phenomenon globally? I wonder if there is a way to utilize cell phones and text messaging as a tool for literacy? Man, if I could accomplish such a feat, I would be Peace Corps GOLD!
November 11, 2010
Bullying has been a hot topic in America as it relates it schools for a while now. I’ve now come to know this term in a whole new light. For a while I’ve been wondering if the attitude I have been perceiving from some local Nigeriens in Ville has been a series of cultural misunderstandings or a type of hazing, but a colleague coined it perfectly for me this morning as bullying. At 34 years old, I am being bullied by the teenagers of my Ville ( a select few, not everyone). I am the oddity, the one that sticks out, the foreigner, and the one that doesn’t speak the language (leading to not being able to defend myself). I must say here, that these instances of what I’m calling bullying have been few and far between, but they seem to hit especially hard and make a lasting impression.
I’m looking for ways to turn this situation around. Unfortunately, I believe the recipe for success is: one part time, one part courage, one part respect and 137 parts language learning. Well, either that or I either get married or start beating them - neither of which are in my plans. Only time will tell, I just hope that the pounding on my door at all hours of the night will cease rather quickly. One thing is definitely true, teenagers are teenagers wherever they are located and sometimes they just do stupid things.
November 15, 2010
My little girl is sick. I know that as a Peace Corps Volunteer I probably shouldn’t have favorite children in my community, but let’s face it, that’s an impossible thing to ask. My favorite little girl is the 6 year old daughter of my neighbor. Her name is Malika and she is full of fire and sweetness and a touch of mischief. In fact, she reminds me of my niece Madelyn quite a little bit. So, needless to say, I feel very close to this child (to the whole family really, they are my adopted family in Niger).
Last week, Malika came down with a fever, but then the next day she was back in the action - although admittedly, in a somewhat subdued state. The day after that, I caught her and the family as they were making their way back from the hospital. Her fever had returned with a vengeance. I went away this weekend and thought often of Malika, fretting about her health, while trying to assure myself I was overreacting. Sadly, I was not. I returned home yesterday afternoon to find Malika even sicker than when I left. Despite three shots from the doctor, her fever has not broken. I sat with her yesterday and listened to her labored breathing as she slept. First thing this morning I went back to check on her. This time, a new scene faced me. Inside the small room was Malika, surrounded by 15 women. Friends of the family, relatives, etc., all there to support Malika and her family. Malika’s state was terrifying. Her eyes were open, but rolled into the back of her head, her breathing was increasingly labored, her skin was burning up and her heart was beating rapidly.
This is my little girl, I wish there was more I could do to help! Anything really! Lacking anything else, I shall now go and sit with the family holding vigil for Malika’s health and hope for the best.
Later in the Day…
Very sadly, Malika passed away today. I was with her, holding her hand as she took her last breath and her heart stopped beating. This is truly a tragic loss. How do I go on? How do I treat tomorrow like just another day? The treatment of death in Niger is very different than in the United States. I am the only one crying my eyes out and showing emotion, everyone else is stone-faced - too used to death. I wish I knew how to console the family, what was culturally appropriate. I wish I knew how to console myself. I’ve reached out to friends and gotten tremendous support, but it’s still not the same as having someone here with me. I’m honestly a little lost. I can’t imagine my Ville without Malika. Without any member of that family.
November 19, 2010
Another hard day. I should mention that the Islamic world, including most of Niger, has been celebrating Tabaski over the past two days. It’s an interesting holiday, but one that I’m in no mood to talk about today. A). It revolves completely around animal slaughter and eating meat, and B). I am still very much distracted by the loss of Malika.
Today, for the first time since Malika’s death, I played with the kids. I constantly felt the absence of Malika and one specific act hit that message home more than any other. One girl kept coming up and holding my hand. All I could think about was how my hand belonged to Malika. She should be holding that hand (as she often did; she made it clear to the other kids that I was hers). I went so far as to think that the child was trying to usurp Malika. I’m sure that’s not the case, but still, it’s odd to me that none of the kids (except for her brother) even seem to recognize that she’s gone.
November 20, 2010
The cycle of life is certainly clear in Niger. I had a tough morning, so I made myself take a walk in the afternoon. I ended up at the market and sat with my friends for a while (a great group of guys that help me with my Hausa). One of them, Hamza, invited me to see his house and meet his family. We ended up at his next door neighbor’s house where a celebration was being held. I was quickly shooed in to meet the guest of honor, a brand new baby girl. It was a naming ceremony. Seven days after a baby is born a ceremony is held to announce the name of the baby and have it, Nana in this case - and the baby, blessed and welcomed into the community. Until this day, the baby’s name is kept a secret. Like most ceremonies and celebrations here, the men sat outside and the women congregated inside. I was given the child to hold, while the women made jokes about me and babies in Hausa. According to the people here I should have between 8 and 40 children. It’s a favorite topic of discussion around town.
As I stared down at Nana, I thought about Malika and how life can change so quickly. I hope she grows up to be a happy and healthy woman taking advantage of every opportunity that Malika will sadly never have.
November 22, 2010
I must admit that working at the hospital has begun to feel a bit like a chore (the newness has worn off), but today as I reported for duty I was informed that I would be working in a different area. A much more hopeful area as it turned out. Rather than working with malnourished children, I was “helping” in the prenatal department. I put helping in quotes because they totally didn’t need me there. Still, I was very grateful for the opportunity to see how this section of the hospital worked.
I was working in a room with two other women where pregnant women had their bellies measured and then were given an optional HIV test. I was in charge of recording the type of patient the woman was (basically putting a check where they told me). The categories of patient were: First visit before 9 months, First visit at 9 months, Intermediate visit, and Visit at 9 months. I was truly shocked how many women came in for the first time quite late in their pregnancies - including a couple women who could give birth any day.
I was quite impressed to see that the majority of women opted to have a HIV test, and that the tests were administered with new, sterile needles which were being disposed of (at least in the room) properly. I was disheartened though to see that the technician was not wearing gloves.
It was also quite eye-opening to see the young girls (today the youngest was 16), coming in for their first exam. They were so scared and unsure of themselves.
The whole experience made me wonder what inspired these women to come in when they did. If they were late in their term, did they not know about the service earlier? Is it word of mouth? Is there any type of peer pressure to either go, or not go, to the hospital during pregnancy or at a certain time during pregnancy? Today we saw about 50 women; what would encourage more women to come in for prenatal care? With the limited resources available at the hospital, would increased prenatal care have a significant affect on the healthy birth-rate in Ville?
A final note about the morning: As work started to wind down, one of the women started to play music on her phone. Everything from Michael Jackson to French and Hausa music. What I found most amusing however was the English-language Christian praise music. Knowing that the women were Muslim and did not speak English, I asked them if they knew the words they were singing along to. They didn’t, they just thought it sounded pretty. Crazy.
November 23, 2010
Today, I visited one of the local elementary schools. They are in desperate need of supplies. The school has 4 rooms (one for each level), all made out of millet stalk. There are no desks or books. It’s a wonder they learn anything at all.
During a break, I sat with many of the teachers at the middle school. I’ve visited them several times and many of them speak English so we’ve been able to develop a bit of a rapport. Today, the topic was me. Why am I vegetarian? Why am I not married (don’t I know how old I am), why don’t I have kids, etc. This discussion led to them creating a picture of my future. I am to marry a Nigerien man, preferably one of the teachers, (as is only wife) and take him back to America where we will have 4 children, two boys and two girls. They even went so far as to select names for the children - Sani Abdou, Patrick (I’m sure the irony is lost on no one), Fatima and Elizabeth. Of course once we are married I will start eating meat and become Muslim.
I told them that they were dreaming (on all counts). Their response - but what a great dream it is! Oy.
Truth be told, I get proposed toquite a lot. Pretty much every man (of every age) that I meet wants to marry me so that I can take them back to America. It astounds and appalls me what they think life is like in America. They refuse to believe that everyone doesn’t have ten cars and huge mansions and tons and tons of money. They believe only what they see on tv and in the movies. Imagine thinking all of America lived like the Real Housewives of New Jersey. It’s preposterous! I try to explain again and again that only a very small population of Americans live like that. That actually most people have nowhere near that amount of money; that many people have no money, no home and no food, but despite what I tell them, they don’t believe me. But, even if we aren’t all ridiculously wealthy, even the most meager savings in America, is a fortune to a Nigerien. It’s a hard thing to balance on a daily basis.
November 24, 2010
I recently mentioned that working at the hospital had been beginning to feel somewhat of a chore. Well this morning the revelation hit me. I haven’t wanted to go to the hospital since Malika’s death. I think part of me just can’t be around the malnourished and sick children for a couple weeks. Selfish, I know. But there are others to do the work, and I feel I need to heal more so that I can go back and be 100%. Hopefully
