Can you see me now?
Okay, the picture isn’t showing up on my end, but when I email it out, it seems fine. Judging by Jim’s comment, it is showing up. Still using the embassy computers…maybe this week we’ll get going with the wifi antennae. Can someone leave a comment and let me know if the picture is showing up?
The communication around our house is pretty iffy. The adorable housekeeper Zuri and I had a conversation yesterday, where it took me five minutes to figure out that she was asking me if I knew any other Americans who might want her to work for them. She has two little boys who live with her mother in Benin, and she says her mother is asking her all the time for money. Then a guy from GSO (General Services Office) came because the smoke alarm in Stefan’s room has been chirping. It took some convincing to get him to change the battery. Then he told me he wanted to see the "feu." The fire. Hmm. I took him to the electrical panel, pretty unsure of what he wanted, thinking we were talking about the smoke alarm. The electrical panel is in the kitchen, he saw the stove and said, "Le feu!" and proceded to fix its problem: the stove wasn’t attached to anything and the pots on the stove tipped over if you opened the oven, making bowling water for spaghetti and toasting garlic bread at the same time life-threatening.
Also we got a new mattress and box springs. I hope the War of the Fleas is now over. I said le guerre contra les puces and Zuri thought that was funny. Especially as she was on the front lines with the vacuum cleaner. Also, my dream has finally come true: when I light bulb goes out, I call GSO and they send someone over to change it.
The gardener, Pierre, was acting as translator about the smoke alarm battery, which is funny, because he and I have a lot of absurdist conversations where everything has to be repeated twice. Obviously, my french has problems. Let’s blame it on the west african accent, shall we? Pierre has five children, "a girl, age 12, then a boy 9, a boy 7 and then the little ones, les tout petits," he says. He asked for a week off to go to Burkina, to renew his visa. I asked him today if his children live here or in Burkina. He says the daughter is here. I told him that le patron and I want to pay for his daughter’s school, which I’ve heard is about $50 a year.We are happy to have the opportunity to help educate someone in a area where the average literacy rate is 13%. Lower for girls.
Ramadan has started, which I see as a sort of Muslim lent. They fast all day, from the first call to prayer at sunrise until the second to the last call to prayer at sunset. I feel so bad making grilled cheese sandwiches for kids at lunch and eating around Zuri, who I know must be feeling faint. She asked to work in the morning rather than the afternoons during Ramadan, because she has more energy. Even the little girls are wearing veils. Peter’s nurse is wearing her hair covered, not for fashion, but for God, she says.
Our daytime guard is the oldest guard we’ve had, and he seems more religious than some, washing his feet or praying every time I want to go in or out it seems. I told Peter I worry about him, he didn’t have a lot of energy before, now to go all day without food or water for an older guy seems almost dangerous. Then at 7 pm (they have 12 hour shifts) he eased himself onto his bike and rode away. I took the night guard a plate of food after the sunset call to prayer. I asked Peter if spaghetti with tomato sauce is wierd for them, Peter said it’s his nurse’s favorite.I figured he must be starving and may have brought food, but if I hadn’t eaten all day, I might eat two dinners.
And it is the Nigeriene National Soccer team that is practicing when I’m running at the stadium.
I have about a zillion pictures to post, but this is the only one that is formatted correctly that I brought with me today. So,
voila. He is really in love with his stuffed animals lately, they go everywhere we do. Plus, he has a hard time acting normal when he’s nervous. L’ecole La Fontaine, Niamey, Niger, September 2006
The last two days I’ve gone running at the nice stadium that was built for the 2005 Francophonie games. (The next will be in Lebonan in 2009) The first day I went no one was there except me and what looked like the national soccer team. (Jesse, can you please come up a story where I am discovered at the stadium and appear as the first white woman to play on the Nigerien soccer team?) I asked a couple people if it was okay for me to use the track. One man smiled and nodded at the track and said, "Allez." Yesterday I was doing one of my you know, strenuous, strenuous circuts around the track and an older guy in a robe called to me,
"Madame!"
"Oui?"
"Are you Chinese?"
"Uh, no."
"Where are you from?"
"I’m American."
"Do you have a card?"
He went on to explain that I need to pay $10 for a card to use the stadium. Which is fine, the first day I’d looked all over for someone to tell me. I assured him that I am happy to pay, but that I didn’t bring any money with me today. He said, no problem, pay next time.
Peter’s nurse Amina tells me that is totally bogus, the stadium is free, maybe 50 cfa (10 cents) at the door if there is anyone even there. The guy did look pretty official with a badge and everything, and I don’t mind making a donation, the stadium is pretty nice, and I have the track to myself. I wonder how much the card would be if I were Chinese.
Christmas card photo opportunity! We are going to see the herd of wild giraffes on Sunday.
I had to quit taking Mephlaquin (Give me crystal or give me Meph). I loved the vivid dreams but hated the insomnia that went with them. So I’m trying to practice what I preach to patients and started taking Doxycycline. "Ask your doctor about the blue pill!" Not nearly as exciting as Mephlaquine. God I miss those dreams!
Yesterday I had my first really busy day in the clinic and saw 7 patients before lunch. A few stomach problems, a few follow-ups, a 15-month-old physical exam and immunizations, a respiratory infection and an ear infection. But the afternoon was quiet. I’ve been appointed by the Ambassador to represent the embassy at the American school. So I caught up on their past minutes and went to the school board meeting. I never thought I’d be sitting on a school board meeting but there I was! Some of the people here at post have hinted that they would like to be on the board, as though I can apppoint them or relinquish my appointment. In case someone here is reading our blog, let me just say, I’m the only one on the board who has no vested interest (my kids don’t go there and I don’t pay tuition) so I think I can remain unbias and be an objective advocate for the teachers and the kids.
I had to leave a little bit early from the meeting because there was a reception in my honor. All of the local physicians and health care providers in Niamey were invited. Our host, the management officer, had his chef prepare wonderful finger foods. There were beef brochettes, grilled seasoned shrimp, little quiches, cheese tarts, and a large assortment of deserts and beverages. His home is very nice and there was quite a crowd. He made a nice speech and so did the Ambassador. I was forced to ad lib and expressed my gratitude. It was really nice. Unfortunately, Dina couldn’t come because she had to stay home with the kids and it was late.
(Some may not want to read this paragraph) I socialized with most of the guests. An American team is here volunteering to do fistula repairs. There is a serious problem here in Niger which is cultural. Young girls (~12-14) are married off to men and tear very easily which creates an abnormal tunneling (fistula) between openings and gets infected. These poor girls are told not to have sex for a month after surgery but are shamed and ostracized if they don’t go back to their husbands. This problem is very real and we are working hard to try and find a solution. I am trying a different approach to come up with an educational tool to target the men.
I met some very interesting people including the director of the local Gamkalley Clinic and a Nigerian neurologist who left to practice in France, made a lot of money, but came back because he wanted to help his people. Dr. Toure is the head of cardiology and covers me when I go away and travel. He is very charming with a great sense of humor. Compliments to the chef who is from Benin. The servers were local Nigerians. I enjoyed the company and we had a very nice evening. Thank you Management Officer.
Breakfasts are usually a scramble to get everyone up, fed, and out the door in time for school. I feel like a drill sargeant that has little control over his company. I believe there is mutiny in the ranks! No time to read the paper. Camille will stare at her plate for 5 minutes and when I say, "Eat your breakfast!" she replies, "I need a fork!" In the mean time, Stefan keeps getting out of his seat to play or ask for something else and often doesn’t eat much of anything and still needs to get dressed. The clock is ticking and we barely get to school on time. The French are strict about punctuality. I was late picking up the kids one day because I had a patient I had to take care of and the directrisse gave me a tongue lashing (which I must admit I kind of liked even though she was very intimidating). I tried to explain and when I told her what I was doing, she asked in cold French, "Did the patient live?!" Her face never softened. Let’s not have THAT happen again!
The time is flying by and daily I think of things to write about but before I know it, three days have passed. It’s kind of interesting how that phenomenon works. It’s already old news yet there is still so much to see and say.
The kids are at their afternoon class time: they went from 8:00 am to 12:30, then go back from 3:30 to 5:15. I’m at the embassy to use the computer. The weather has been lovely today, then I went outside to the CLO lounge computer from Peter’s office and I could see the sky was dark and the trees were whipping around. The electricity blinked off, then serged on with the generator I guess. Now it’s POURING, with thunder and lightening. Stefan isn’t going to like the thunder. I love the rain here, it’s so dramatic. The roads fill with water, the pot holes are three feet deep. If you go fast, you hope to hydroplane. The sand turns into clay mud, you should see my yellow frye boots! (someday I’ll have you-know-what at home and will post pictures.) The roads are really not passable, except in the lovely, lovely land cruisers. The Saab is hopefully enjoying it’s retirement in Oregon. Can’t wait until our car–and stuff–gets here, but it probably won’t be until Oct.
I got the NYT! Boy did I miss the newspaper. It may be Sept 12 to you, but to me it’s August 29th and Clinton is in Rwanda!
There are three grocery stores in town, like french supermarkets. On Saturdays I like to go to the one that has vegetables imported from France. We can’t eat the lettuce here, even soaking it in bleach water isn’t punishment enough for thinking of giving us giardia; I am happy to pay three dollars a head for gorgeous french butter leaf lettuce. They also have apples and red bell peppers, not locally available. We haggle at the vegetable stands on a contant basis, especially one called Chateau Un. There I buy bananas, if they aren’t too ripe, zucchini, not-so-good-carrots, perfect pinapples, funny little tomatoes and nice green and red onion. They want to sell me overipe watermelon because here they poke a straw in it and drink it, it’s a little soupier than I am looking for. So I have to have Peter along to choose the watermelon. I have gotten really good french melon too. Peter buys fish from a guy who sells it across the street from the embassy, from a cooler plugged into a tree. Otherwise you can buy fish at the supermarket, but when I say fish, I mean a whole fish, wrapped in saran wrap, and not marked. Peter went through them, "that’s trout, that’s a carp, that’s a perch." He threw them all back though.
Peter gets a car to drive home every day from the motor pool, usually a land cruiser. The ambassador is on her way to the Cure Salee, the biggest festival in Niger probably, held once year 1000 miles away in the desert. They have the Wodabe men dancing courtship dances, and a separate contest for the prettiest camel. Maybe next year we’ll go, when just a trip through the potholes to the freezer filled with whole fish at the supermarket isn’t such an adventure. Meanwhile, while the ambassador is gone, we get her other car; isn’t that gonna be a great bumpersticker?
Our internet fiasco has taught us to slow down. Way down! The wheels turn slowly here in Niger. It is not an instantaneous society like in the US. There are advantages to slowing down but it takes some getting used to if you come from a place where fast food is FAST and check out lines aren’t usually used for socializing.
Last week, Dina was going to come with the kids for lunch here at the embassy. One of the reasons was that it is the day that they serve capitaine (the local fish) and she hadn’t tried it yet. I was forewarned that they run out early and to reserve it in the morning before others get to it first. So I requested it at 9AM for 1 O’Clock. Dina arrived with the kids just before that and we waited and waited. Finally, at 2:15, they brought us our fish! It was superb! Fried and cooked to perfection on a bed of fantastic potato salad (not overly smothered in mayonnaise). That was an exceptionally long wait but not unusual. I’ve waited over a half an hour before. Relax! It’s OK! It’s coming! They are making if individually fresh from scratch!
Daily, my nurse tells me (rolling her eyes) something to the effect of, "they are going to change our doors in the clinic because they want to install a special light." They take off the door, lay wiring all over the hall across the threshold, and disappear for a few days. "They are promising they are gonna do it tomorrow," she tells me every day.
And then there’s the sore subject of the internet at home. People tell us options are available but it all takes time (ours) and nothing has panned out. There is an antiquated phone line which relies on land lines that are corroded and frequently flooded and short curcuit. Those who have it say it is problematic at best and frequently it is on the blink. You pay by the minute and they often receive bills for time they know they weren’t on line.
Then there is Dougouney! Some magical satellite phone you buy and plug into your computer. It costs about 40,000 CFA/month (~$80) for unlimited use. Sounds great! Until they come and look at the MAC and ask where the CPU is? They have no cable to connect to a MAC even though the contents on the box of the satellite phone says it contains a MAC cable. Maybe we can buy one for ~$64 dollars but no garantees.
"Have you heard of WeeFee (WiFi)?!!" Your computer picks up and sends wireless messages. But our neighborhood doesn’t have it. Ahhhhh! But there is an internet cafe about a half a mile from us that does. "You need a repeater," we’re told. It strengthens the signal. But we don’t even get a weak signal so that was also a no-go. Waaaa!! But wait! Rumor has it, that we can buy an antenna and get WiFi!!! That’s where we’re at! It’s made in Germany! That sounds promising. It’s gonna cost an arm and a leg but if it works, we can utilize Skype (free long distance calling on the internet)! Two hits, one stone! We’re keeping everything crossed! I wonder if they rent or we can buy a sputnik?
Things do get done. And every day, there is the call to prayer. I hear it in the mornings, during the day, and at night. It sounds Eastern and the people flock and kneel on their prayer rugs facing east. Some are Toreg, some are Zarma and Hausa. Others are indestinguishable in origin. Five times a day Amina covers her head with a scarf, kneels and prays no matter how busy it is. She tells me that she does it to acknowledge her gratitude to God and pray for peace in the world. I have inadvertantly disturbed her prayers on two occasions and felt like an intruder but she smiles and tells me not to feel bad. "Love and peace are not sacred" she says.
Everything is good. We are adjusting to life here in Niamey. The sharp contrast is wearing off and I’m not gaping as much or as often as I was.
I am starting to miss little things such as the morning newspaper every day, and one stop shopping instead of going to multiple markets and not necessarily finding what I am looking for. We’ve placed an order on net-grocers (on line)for brown sugar and oatmeal, salsa and whole wheat flour. Other things are surprisingly readily available. We have a great french bakery ("Delice") with breads, coissants, and pastries. We found a woman who delivers handmade tortillas, bagels, and pizza, plus a fish guy who has the freshest catch sold at an intersection with fish he pulls out of a cooler plugged into a tree(?). I’ve identified pike (which they call "Capitan"), catfish, perch, and carp.
Last Friday, I got off work at 1PM and my nurse, took me to a Chinese restaurant for lunch. It was surprisingly good considering I haven’t seen but one Asian here in Niamey. If anything, I would say it was Chinese with probably a French flair! For instance, the sweet and sour sauce was definitely a lite tangy sauce rather than that glaze they use in the states. The crispy chicken was probably a lean duck with dark meat on the breasts but tasty. So we are beginning to discover little comfort spots.
Boston University has a student exchange program with the University of Niamey. We were invited guests at their welcoming ceremony and had a great time. They had African dancing and music from different regions of Niger and the natives gave each student a Nigerian name. It was hot out but the kids were pacified by all the cold Coke and Fanta that seemed to be passes in an endless supply along with appetizer plates of salted green olives, popcorn, dates, and sweet roasted peanuts.
We were driving home Sunday evening when a boy ran out right in front of the car. I had to brake hard to keep from hitting him and the car behind me swerved to avoid me but lightly clipped my back bumper. A large crowd immediately gathered and the driver stopped next to me and got out of the car. I was told to always carry my radio with me and had it so I called the embassy. The marine guard advised me not to get out of the vehicle and to either drive to the embassy or somewhere that I could assess the damage safely. The other driver was trying to talk to me through the window and I lowered it slightly. He apologized and got in the car and drove away. The regional security officer heard me on the radio and called me right away and instructed me to drive to a safe place which I did and he met me there within 10 minutes. There was no damage to the embassy vehicle but the guy who drove away had a broken headlight. All told, there were no problems but a very good lesson in safety and security. They do take very good care of us here.
Our housekeeper (Zuri) is from Benin. She is probably about twenty eight years old and has 3 kids. Painfully shy, she barely says two words but does a very good job of cleaning house and occasional shopping. We also have a gardener and pool man, Pierre, who keeps our garden one of the most beautiful in Niamey. And our pool is divine (we can’t tell if he’s putting any chemicals into it but it’s so clean)! Luxuries of living at a hardship post!
The kids started school a few days ago. Both came home very happy. Camille told me she likes her teacher a lot and made some friends. Stefan only reports that there are 6 other kids from Portland, which means 6 other white kids are in his class. He also drew an elaborate picture of the bathroom toilet which required much description and we still don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.
Last night I had to stay late with a patient and when I was walking to my vehicle, the largest flock of parrots I’ve ever seen were flying into the embassy trees in the courtyard to roost for the night. It was dusk as I drove home with a blazen sun in my rearview mirror. The car in front of me was a small taxi sedan which had a skinned cow with it’s head and hooves cut off, hanging out of the trunk.
Every day, I see things that my eyes cannot quite believe. Not because I am so ignorant but because it is such a different world than where we come from. The world is small but there is much to see, live, and experience.
When something costs 1,100 cfa and you give them 2,100 why do they give you a handful of change back?
Do the kids bugging you to buy a postcard think you will change your mind after an hour?
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 