Category: From Peter

After our backpacking trip with the kids, we headed north to Mount Shasta to visit my father and sister Ludmilla. When I last saw my father, his wife had just died and I had to leave him to get back to training at the FSI while he waited for a hearse to take her body away. Since then, he still grieves and the strongest image of him in my mind was my departure. He now lives with my sister and niece (Sonja) and my sisters’ boyfriend, Jeremy.

My sister Nina came down with my nephew Peter and his girlfriend Clara. We had a splendid evening one night when Clara and Peter sang for us and then my sisters and I sang rounds with guitar like we used to in our youth. Dina’s parents joined us as well. I didn’t get to spend the quality time I wanted with Milla and my dad so after we left, I returned for 3 days with my sister Alex and the kids. Dina stayed in Portland to relish in her time alone to Goodwill shop and visit friends. Oh that Dina is a real fox! Anyway, it was great to spend the time driving in the car with Alex and more one-on-one time with Milla and my dad. He turns 84 today. Happy Birthday pop! I know you can’t stand it but I’m glad you’re still around.

I do so much love Portland! We visited our friends (Dave and Elizabeth, Kathy and Lee) and hung out with Alex, Nina, Peter, Helen, and Elliott at Powell’s Books, Hawthorne Street, our house on Reed College Place, dinners at Dave and Elizabeth’s while our kids play with each other, the gondola ride up to OHSU, our dentist (Dina’s cousin Roger), and Dina’s colleagues at Hanna Andersson. I did miss friends I really wanted to see (Vivian Tong, Paul Fick, and colleagues at OHSU to name a few).

The condo Rajesh and Kshama let us stay in was very nice. It’s right on the Park blocks and walking distance to PAM, the Pearl, and right on the MAX metro line. All of our time on vacation was spent with great friends and family. We wasted no time and really enjoyed ourselves despite the heck-tic schedule. Even shopping at Ikea and Whole Foods was pleasurable (when you don’t get to go for a whole year).

The flight home was another story. We had last minute pressures to clean the condo, pack, box some books for shipping, buy and deliver consumables to Dave and Elizabeth’s house to be shipped to Niger, and get to the airport to drop off our rental car before flying. I have nothing good to say about Delta Airlines except that they are a partnership with Air France. There is no comparison. We flew from Portland to Atlanta. They overbooked the flight so we had to wait over an hour while they took someone’s luggage off the plane and then blamed the weather for the delay. The flight attendants weren’t very friendly. We were hoping to miss our connecting flight to Niger so we could stay in Paris for a couple of days and would have had it not been for a flight delay to Niger. The kids barely slept the entire 26 hours except for the last 4 hours coming to Niamey.

We were all zombies and still are a week later. The kids have been up most nights from 2AM until 5AM and then we all have to get up to go to school and work. I’ve overslept on several occasions and had no time for breakfast or coffee. One day in particular, I took my blessed home-roasted ground beans and filter to work, only to arrive to a full waiting room of patients. I don’t do well before coffee but I was forced to perform and play doctor. It was 11:30 before I could sit down and have my first cup.

Last night I was reading “Three Cups of Tea” until midnight and planned to sleep in this morning. I was awakened by a patient at 8:30AM. “Welcome back!” I heard them say.

Two weeks out and Africa still burns in my mind. My departure from Niamey was smooth. The connecting flight out of Paris went without a hitch and I landed in Dulles on time. What I didn’t expect was to see our firends Steve and Scarlett Hughes waiting for me to take me to my hotel in Georgetown. How great is that? After checking in, I took a walk and everything seemed switched. Gotta deal with the ATM/credit card and pay sales taxes on items as marked (no haggling). The packaged fruit at Trader Joe’s seems man made and the meat on the shelf has a quarter inch of fat around it. I kept saying "Bonjour" and "Merci."

The Leadership course at FSI turned out to be surprisingly good. The instructors were motivated and touched on interesting topics such as personalities, cultural differences, and management and communication skills (or more commonly, lack there of). I was glad to visit with Mama Lana. Five days went by quickly and I had the pleasure of connecting with my dear friends Rajesh and his family who were staying at our hotel and on their way to Manila. We will be staying in their condo in Portland in a week.

I flew to Sacramento and rented a car (Hurts). My sister and brother-in-law (Bob and Valerie) had a very nice reception for me. They threw a great welcoming BBQ at their house. Seeing Dina and the kids was like being lost for three weeks and finally finding someone you know. I got to visit with my in-laws, Natalie and Alison, Dave, Carol and Steve, Gary, Tiffany and their little girl. Lots of dogs and the cat! I have missed them all over the past year and often think about them so the visit, though too short, was very nice.

We arrived in Davis Saturday night. My cousin Mike and his family are my kin and being with them is being home. We made some great meals together, spent hours talking, and planned our backpacking trip into the Sierras with the kids. I also visited with Lidia and my aunt Bo. Monday we went to Petaluma to see Tyotya Irina, Rich and Liz. Reenie was there too so we had a nice lunch and caught up on our adventures. Rich let me drive his bathtub porche! On Thursday morning, Serge and Adriana came up with Anya and we all drove to the Sierras. The hike in was nice. The weather was perfect and the smell of high alpine woods and wild flowers was fabulous. We set up camp on Lake Margarite and spent 3 days swimming, hiking, and lounging around. The kids had a terrific time with their cousins and I felt myself completely relax. 

Now it’s Monday and we still have two more days here in Davis before heading north. Tomorrow we will venture into the city (SF) and then visit with Tori and John and have dinner with Evan and Luanne. Dina is out running and exercising. The kids are playing with a doll house with Ana. I’m sitting here listening to them laughing and thinking back on these past two weeks. I almost forgot a few things.

It’s been a full week since Dina and the kids left Niamey. Of course, it’s nice to have time to yourself and read the newspaper uninterrupted, not have to keep adjusting the volume to your liking on the stereo, go where you want to, and utilize the time however you want. But after a few days, the longing to be with your family and be near the people you love the most creeps in and starts to ache. You realize that these people give meaning and purpose to your life.

Although it sounds as if I have this freedom, my friends here are a bit pesty and insist on inviting me out and involving me in their social affairs. I’ve only eaten at home twice in the past week. It’s nice to feel as though you are the center of attention though and I have had some great times with them.

Last night I went to some friend’s house for dinner. We shared a very nice wine and then, they served lobster! It was devine. Appearantly, they were able to get it from a woman from Benin who brings fresh seafood from the coast about once a month. I have bought large shrimp from her before. It was a nice evening and we shared some stimulating conversation.

Tonight, I’m invited to a party at my neighbors house. They want to go out dancing afterwards but I know that dancing here doesn’t even start until midnight. As our friend Jesse often says, "you go on ahead, I’ll try and catch up."

Happy Birthday Stefan! I love you.

I have no expectations for Father’s Days. In fact, the whole idea of creating a holiday so that one can be honored and recognized as a father goes against my inner voice. "My kids truely love me and they are proving it today by giving me a gift on a day that every other kid is doing the same thing. I’m so lucky!"  I don’t get it.

But some very fine things happened this weekend that I appreciated and my kids played a part in making it so. Friday afternoon, we had Dean over and even though Camille had her friend Auriron over and wanted us to watch them swim; she didn’t make too big a deal out of when we said, "no." Our neighbors took the kids to a party for Jennifer’s students and Dina and I were without kids, which is rare for us. So Saturday we spent most of the day just hanging out.

I stayed up late that night watching a motorcycle race at Hangtown. It reminded me of my cousin Mike, who is one of the best friends I have, and how we used watch the races there. I woke up in the morning to Stefan saying in a rather loud voice, "I won’t wake papa up!" to Camille. And for the most part, he was pretty quiet so I got to doze for another hour or so. Dina made crepes for breakfast. Stefan drew me a really cool painting of a Duccati and Camille made me a beautiful card. They presented me with the new Pink Martini CD which we listened to together. In the late afternoon, Dina made buscuits and we met with a group of the embassy crowd and drove out to the dunes to have a picnic dinner. Folks brought fried chicken and salads, there were lots of desserts, wine, and plenty of food. A beautiful evening and we all headed home in the dark that falls almost immediately after sunset here. Father’s Day or not, my kids are great!

Early last week, I awoke in the night with an itch on my left thigh. I was in dream state so I’m not really sure how long after that that I realized I was bitten by something. There were two other smaller bites around my knee cap and they itched so bad I was cursing myself in Russian whenever I would even think about scratching myself.

The mosquitos have been very infrequent lately and I couldn’t tell what bit me. Dina swore it wasn’t her. We don’t have bed bugs and I have not been bit like this before or since. The bite site on the inner left thigh was bigger than the rest and seemed to have a stinger in it although all attempts to remove it with a sterile needle and tweezers were futile. That site actually started to hurt and before I could say, "pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoiconiosis" (meaning "black lung" and the longest word in the dictionary, according to Serge), the entire inner thigh turned red and swollen from knee to mid groin; cellulitis by God!

Like a dog, I try to lick and heal my own wounds. I applied Hydrocortisone cream on it which helped the itch but the infection seemed to only be getting worse. I kept saying to myself that I would give my bullet proof Russian-Greek immune system one more day but by day #4, my left thigh doubled in size and turned as red as a sunburn.

Saturday, James and I went to run the Hash and I wasn’t feeling 100% (Gee, I wonder why?). The run was on a levy through some rice fields by the river and by about one mile into it, I completely ran out of gas, got cold, wanted a sweater, and had goose bumps; odd sensation when it’s 100 degrees out. Now I know what this means (I’m a nurse practitioner) but the fact that my immune system was losing the battle made me feel vulnerable. When I got home, I popped my first antibiotic. Within 30 minutes, the redness faded by 50%. The swelling is almost completely gone now and I’m feeling pretty close to normal. Watch out for African bugs.

About a month ago, I got into our Toyota Land Cruiser and had trouble getting it started. After several attempts, it started up. I had no explanation, but it started fine for about a week. When it happened again, I brought the car to the embassy mechanics. They believed it was the battery, although I had my doubts; the butt warmer never quit working, nor the lights, and the voltage indicator on the dash showed a strong charge. Still, I had no way of knowing how old the battery was before we bought the car. They put in a new battery ($130) and it ran beautifully for about 2 weeks. Then it happened again with more frequency.

After getting it started on the fifteenth try, Dina and James drove it out to the Toyota dealer. They told them they couldn’t work on such a new car (???) "But it’s a 1999!" For emphasis, the guy who runs the garage brought out the mechanic, pointed at him and said, "He doesn’t know how to work on this vehicle." The mechanic just kind of shrugged and raised his hands, plams up in the air. Friday night, the Land Cruiser died in our driveway, wouldn’t start no matter how many times you turned the key.

I went to my french class the other day and as part of the lesson, explained my car situation to my instructor (not easy by any stretch of the imagination). He whipped out his cell phone and spoke to someone in Hausa. "Let’s go," he said and we continued our lesson as he drove me to the mechanics. Cars were parked along the road. We explained the problem and they sent a mechanic to our house. Stefan watched while they hot-wired the car. They assured me they’d bring it back by 6:30PM.

I started to wonder if maybe I made a mistake letting someone drive the car away, when 6:30 came and went with no car. But at 9PM, the doorbell rang and sure enough, the car was delivered to me with some part that I can only assume came from our engine. $50 for parts and labor. This morning she started up and purred, just like a car with a brand new demarreur.

What the heck’s a damarreur?

It’s not what you think; not corned beef. Let me explain. There is a group of runners here who get together every Saturday evening for a run. One of the organizers sets up the course. There are about 12 different ones ranging from 3-7 miles within 5 miles of Niamey. Each course also has a shorter walking course and many people walk. They try to make it so that the slowest runners come back about the same time that the slowest walkers do (about 1 to 1.5 hours).

Yesterday, we drove across the river up onto the table top plateau overlooking the valley and Niamey. The road up was steep and narrow. A donkey cart carrying firewood was coming down and slowed the line of SUV’s going up. They tried to turn the donkey around and the cart tipped over, spilling all the wood onto the road. Fortunately, I saw ahead what was happening and parked at the bottom. Eventually, everyone else backed down and parked along side us. We walked up to the top. Camille and Stefan came with our neighbors since Jennifer offered to walk with the kids. James and I planned on running.

The route went close to the rim of the plateau with dramatic vistas. The weather had cooled and it was beautiful. The terrain had a lot of lava rocks and packed dirt after the last rain storm. The open landscape was covered with small brush and some tall Dr. Seuss-looking palm trees. Leading up to the surrounding plateaus are sand dunes and the contrast between yellow blond sand and burnt brown lava rock certainly reminded me of being on the moon. I think of Serge and the Grand Canyon. I wish he were here because I know there would be no stopping him from further exploration of this small range of bluffs. The river valley below looks fertile and a few tall buildings off in the distance landmark Niamey.

We start running and I find a slow pace which is comfortable for me. James runs next to me with his daughter, Athena. He is a fine runner and I know he is quite capable of a much faster speed. But he is gentle and his slow pace allows his daughter to run with us for a little bit. I’m surprised how long she lasts but fairly soon, she slows down and he does also. I continue my pace, certain that James will not only catch up to me but most certainly pass me in a very short while. I come up on two African boys. They started out running with the lead group but began to fall behind. They both have those Adidas sandals people wear by the pool. They have no water and I can see they are eager to run but ill-equipped. I offer them water which they gladly accept. The older boys name is Careem. I looked about 9 and 7, but Careem is 15 and his younger brother Amadou is 11.

Despite my limited French, I learn so much about them. Their father works at a hotel. They both go to a french school and have two other brothers and a sister. I give them the water and increase my speed, but they keep up with me. The coarse was about 4.5 miles and we finish the run together.

And NO! There are no rituals were the runners partake in the smoking of hash from a hooka pipe! Although there are rumors that such rituals exist in different parts of the world. Down beside the parked vehicles, there are ice chests full of coke. No! Not the narcotic but cold drinks (sodas, beer, mineral water). James arrives about 20 minutes later. He had to run back a little to deliver Athena to Jennifer and then took off. He didn’t catch me although I’m sure he could have. We both had a great run. He bought my two African companions a coke which they were ecstatic about. A grey cloud cover blew over us and the sun began to sink. The Hash is yet another event that one can partake in that adds to the enjoyment of ones stay here. I plan on becoming a regular.

I’m on regional travel again. This time I flew and Dina stayed home with the kids.

The flight here was shorter than I thought. The previous times we drove all day. Air France stewardesses (say “flight attendants!” ed.) all look like models. Why is that? Maybe it’s the turtle neck and scarf. Dina could be one. Oui. (aw. ed.) They barely had enough time to offer us water or orange juice before we landed. A driver was waiting and took me to my hotel room, La Palmierie. The same place we stayed the last time. A resort of sorts with cabana-styled buildings, palm trees, and a swimming pool. They remembered me, Le Docteur, from last time and inquired about my wife, children, work, the dust, and my tiredness. I checked in and went out walking in the downtown district towards the wine shop and markets.

It still surprises me when I see a human being caring a load bigger than a laundry basket perfectly balanced on their head; like rock piles of mangos or a pot inside a calabash which is topped by another calabash with yet another smaller pot inside. And then there’s the family of 5, all riding on one motorcycle. No helmets. Just flip flops.

Back in my room, I feel pathetic sitting in my underwear, sipping wine from a paper cup, and watching CNN television. It’s hot here and the AC seems like my mother blowing my direction from across the room, trying to cool me down. And the ceiling fan rocks ominously over my head like a biplane propeller that’s about to become unhinged and come whirling down and decapitate me. "Man in hotel loses his head!"

Work is very busy. I saw 14 patients that first day and before I knew it, it was 6PM and I was headed back to the hotel. I dined in or rather out, staying at the hotel. The food is good there but again, I felt widowed and didn’t like it. But the mornings mean great coffee! There’s a cafe run by a Belgian woman right next door to the embassy. Helene, my secretary, already knows that life is better for both of us if she gets me my coffee first. I visited with the DCM. Helene and I go shopping for Italian water bottles and the going rate is high as soon as they see me in my scrubs; the blue matches my skin color; Patron! We decline the first offer much to the chagrin of the seller who gets angry at us for not excepting his scalper price. As we drive to look for another vendor, we see two young girls on one bike. Both have the Italian blue bottle slung over their shoulders. I suggest we ask them how much they payed for those and the driver laughs so hard, he has to pull over to stop from crashing. Another couple of stops and I succumb to a lower haggled rate than the first guy. "Success!" I think to myself. Which is exactly what the seller was thinking too as he laughed at his other envious vendor friends while he walked away.

Yesterday I got busy with a few cases I was working on. I visited a local french clinic and was charmed by the doctor there. The french can be terribly rude or quite the opposite and she had the right combination of warmth and animation to sell me. What cinched it was a courier came to pick up medications and supplies she donates to an orphanage. And I admit, I have a soft spot for orphans. The doctor then started showing me her bandaid supply and we both laughed at the silliness of it.

I was glad to be back at the hotel and again found myself drinking wine and eating cheese and baguette when the phone rang and I was summoned back to the embassy for an "emergency." It’s a long story and I won’t go into it but it turned out to be someone I knew from Niamey. It really wasn’t an emergency as most cases aren’t and all’s well that ends well. But I got back late and by the time I settled down to bed, it was midnight.

The embassy is now closed now and I’m waiting for my evening flight. The pool is full of peace corps-niks, missionaries, and TDY’ers. Ouaga is a fun place and I do like it here. Hopefully next time I can bring the family.

Something unbelievable is happening! I went home to deliver a bunch of packages for lunch and while driving back, saw some unusual dark clouds forming over the horizon. Within 10 minutes of spotting them, they where upon me and behind them I could see a rolling tidal wave of dust, falling down like a moving wall. It really looked like you could surf down the pipeline as the dust cascaded down the pike. I parked the car and as soon as I got into the chancery building, it hit us like a hurricane. The blowing dust blocked the sun like a heavy fog. The courtyard I crossed to the health clinic blew fierce wind and micro grains, like sandpaper, lightly grazing my exposed arms and face. The palm trees were swaying like upright wet noodles and several unripe mangos fell out of the trees like granades waiting to explode. And now it rains; a down pour which brings with it a cool and pleasant temperature. The heavy storm continues. Now I know what they mean when they say "Harmattan."

I had a chaotic week at work. My visa needs renewing and my evaluation is due. The school board meeting was on Wednesday night and I’m responsible for writing a report to the ambassador. Amina was getting ready for her nursing conference in Vienna and we had a large herd of patients.

Friday after work, I had to go over to the American International School where I was one of the judges for the science fair. I was astonished to find such elaborate presentations on complex subjects utilizing the scientific method. The students presented their projects and were very enthusiastic and prepared. They talked about what motivated them to start their research. They sited their refrences and resources. They stated their hypothesis and talked about their data collection and possible variables which might alter the results. Their findings were impressive and all deserved an award. The topics I judged were on photosynthesis, lasting flavor of sugarless vs sugared chewing gum, bottle rockets, and comparison of how time is perceived when compared to males and females. The last one won first place. 

Later that night, I took the kids to the open house where all the students were displaying their projects to their families and there was an awards ceremony and Italian dinner. Dina stayed home to get some much needed time alone.

Saturday we had some friends over and made a nice BBQ. It was my fist attempt without my cook. The charcoal here is quite small and burns very fast. But it turned out great and the kids played and swam until dusk.

Yesterday, Dina arranged for us to pick up several kids from the orphanage and bring them home for lunch and play. It was a rich experience. One of the girls is deaf but such a joy. Her facial expressions and movements are so graceful. She smiles and points. We signed some with her and she seems to know quite a bit of sign language.  The boys wanted to touch everything. One kept puting in a CD and ejecting it, then playing it at different volumes with the remote until I had to ask him to stop. They played muscial instruments and ate Raisin Bran and chocolates after a big pasta lunch. They ate ravenously and asked for more. Taking them back was hard. Part of it is the emotional feelings but also the beauty of these kids. They are so alive; expressive and loving. I was afraid that I would be depressed but I found a feeling of hope. That these children get fed, washed, clothed, sheltered, and most importantly, educated is more than most of the other children their age here in Niger.