Christmas Baking in Niger

So, yesterday, I started out to bake Christmas cookies. My first cookie-baking venture in Niger. The baking was delayed until today as I discovered that I needed buy sugar and flour before I could start.

I thought I would share one of the recipes and experience! :

Soft Cookies

1/2 c. butter

1 c. sugar

2 beaten eggs

1/2 c. milk

1 tsp. vanilla

3 c. flour

1 tbsp. baking powder

Pre-Prepartion:

1. freeze flour and sugar overnight to kill bugs
2. after min. 24 hours - sift sugar and flour to remove dead bugs
3. pick feathers off eggs
4. wash eggs
5. float eggs as quality control (those which float are possibly rotten)
6. throw out 1 of 9 eggs despite quality-control-float-test
7. make milk out of milk powder
8. raid precious stash of baking ingredients from Canada: vanilla and baking powder needed

Preparation:

cream butter

gradually mix in sugar & cream

add milk and vanilla - beat

in separate bowl: mix flour and baking powder

slowly add flour mixture to butter mixture and stir

roll to 1/4" thickness

cut with cookie cutter

attempt to pull sticky glob off cutting board

inspect dough

add more flour : altitude and humidity level difference from Calgary obviously affecting dough consistency

roll dough attempt two

additional flour added to rolling step for rolling ease

cut and place on cookie sheet

bake 7 min. at 350

read stove manual (again) to determine that Gas 4 = 338 and Gas 5 = 374. Set stove to Gas 4.5

put first pan of cookies in oven

continue rolling and cutting

turn on fan - getting too hot and sweaty in kitchen with oven on (current outside temperature: +35)

discover gas oven temperature is also different . . . . bake cookies twice the recommended time!

cool cookies - the fan helps with that too!

Finishing Touch:

Icing:

cream

(hmm . . . options of availability in stores: powdered milk, whipping cream. well, it is Christmas after all - so use the whipping cream!)

icing sugar

food colouring - green with red sprinkles and red with green sprinkles

Thanks for the Christmas baking sprinkles Dorrie!!

Preparation:

mix three ingredients

spread icing on cooled cookies

watch icing melt and drip off cookies

quickly add sprinkles and put pan in fridge to help icing set

Final Step:

As company is not coming until the 26th (Friday) . . . put cookies in freezer so they do not grow moldy on counter between now and then.

Start all over with second type of cookie - butter buds with jam centres. Add 1 extra cup of flour for dough consistency (recipe cites a possible addition of 1/2 cup extra flour).

Call mom at 7am to discuss what is wrong with the cookies - why they do not hold shape?

Add extra 2+ cups of flour to this recipe.

Determine after 2+ extra cups of flour that they are close enough, they don't need to hold shape do they?? A little spread out is fine.

Contemplate whether making chocolate shortbread tomorrow night is worth the effort.

Contemplate making meat buns for Friday as well, and decide that the effort of figuring out how much yeast to add to the dough for a good rise at this altitude is not worth the mental effort this week . . . sweet & sour meatballs in the crockpot it is!

Bonne Fête

Today is Independence Day in Niger!! The country is celebrating the 50th anniversary of Independence!

My day guard Aklinine was so proud this morning when I wished him Bonne Fête (Happy Celebration) to inform me of their history and that this year is the 50th anniversary!

This last week has marked a flurry of preparations (as opposed to the flurry of snow that you are experiencing in Canada). The road medians and boundaries are being repainted - same colours, but now a new and bright red & white striped strip. The lampposts and telephone poles have also been painted up about 2-3 feet. It is all looking like a striped candy cane!

The government is also installing light displays all over the city . . . ironically, Christmas light displays!! So there is now a feeling of Christmas in the air!

The main boulevard is an interesting display of a lighted object on a stick - butterflies, stars, and doves. Though, I have to admit that I think a few men did the installations - at the front end of the boulevard they are placed close together and then further and further staggered apart towards the end. The alternations are also amusing to see as I drive along:

It starts off great with: butterfly, star, dove, butterfly, star, dove

and goes downhill from there: star, star, butterfly, dove, dove, butterfly, star, butterfly, butterfly, star, dove, star, butterfly

. . . and on it goes!!

It provided me with a minute of amusement as I drove home yesterday and called out the objects as I passed by!

All I need now is some snow . . . maybe I can spread some white bougainvalleas on the road by the Christmas lights and candy-cane striped cement!

Happy 50th Niger!!

RockPointe Team . . . Part 2

During the weekend, we were able to do a few tourist activities with the RockPointe Prayer team to show them a bit of Niger.

Friday evening, after their return from Tillaberi, we headed to the local sand dunes for a picnic and campfire. We arrived just as the sun was setting, so I have no photos of the dunes. However, this is a picture from a teammate of a former visit:

The sand here is so soft and it was such fun to take the sandals off and run all over the dune with the team children and sit at the top and see the beautiful vista of Niger from on high.

We headed back down to a picnic - roasted chicken hotdogs, chips, beans, veggies and cake for dessert. Later in the evening Jenn (a friend from Samaritan's Purse) brought her guitar out and we sat around the campfire and sang praise to our God!

Saturday morning, we headed out early for our 'combo pack day'. We drove out of town to a little campground/activity area and mounted some camels for a tour to a nearby village.

c

After we toured the village - which is famous for the pottery that is made there - we boarded a pirogue (larger canoe type boat with a motor) to ride back to the campground - hippo hunting on the way! One hippo surface within 5 meters of the boat! We headed to a little island and pulled into the reeds until it moved off.

The sign at the edge of the river where we got on the boat . . . not entirely sure where exactly the parking is supposed to be!

Our guide standing up to look for hippos - and steering the boat with his foot!

We finally arrived back at the campground to a lovely lunch of brochettes (skewered and grilled beef) and fries waiting for us. It was a lovely day!

In the evening, I headed to the International School with my friend Jenn for the senior fundraiser . . . Mexican supper! The food was fantastic and the evening cool and enjoyable. It was a treat to eat food that I love - and the cooks went all out - I had the combo platter of enchilda, taco and burrito. There were chips and salsa to start the evening and cheesecake for dessert!

Stay tuned for the final RockPointe team post later this week . . . our second trip to a Fulani village.

So this is Christmas . . .

. . . at least in Niger:

Today has marked the oddest day for Christmas decorating - for it is +40 degrees outside!! And no sign of a "winter wonderland" outside my window.

In the last few weeks, I have begun to prepare for my first Christmas away from home. I brought a few decorations with me. And last week I bought a soapstone African manger scene - the first of a few I hope to buy in various African countries.

However, this week, I admit to my heart desiring familiarity and the trappings of Christmas. So, today I found myself driving around town to purchase a Christmas tree and decorations. Once I put the tree up in my living room, my house felt like home. An odd feeling, for it feels like my home already, but I suppose for Christmas - even though it is just me in the house - my heart needed more for the homey-Christmas feeling.

I turned on the fans, started the Christmas music and began to decorate my house. Too hot for an apple cider or hot chocolate, but my heart feels like Christmas now.

Mydining room:

My living room:

My tree:

May God bless you this season as you prepare to celebrate our Saviour's birth. May He bring peace and joy to your hearts.

Mouse vs. Cockroach

Earlier this week, I found evidence of what I thought was a mouse in my kitchen . . . I opened the candy drawer to find little poops all over! And oddly, my mint gum chewed, but nothing else.

The hard candy went promptly into the fridge and I set out to find a mouse trap. However, being Sunday afternoon, none of the stores were open! So, alas, I spent a night wondering where in my house the mouse with wintermint fresh breath was wandering.

The next morning, upon speaking with my house help, she mentioned that she thought the offending critter was a 'cafard'. She mentioned I could put down some type of product to kill it, but I mentioned that it lived behind the one kitchen cupboard that is attached to the wall and I didn't want it to crawl back there, die and stink up the kitchen as I could not get to it. She countered that it would not stink. I still was not sure what type of animal was in my house, so she then proceeded to show me a picture on my bug spray bottle . . . yes, she thought my kitchen was host to a cockroach!!

"Cockroaches eat mint???" I queried.

"Cockroaches poop???" My friends asked.

Upon further discussion with various people, I discovered that cockroaches LOVE mint flavour. And will, in fact, even chew on a toothbrush left out because of the mint flavour.

So, apparently, I had a mint-loving cockroach in my house.

And yes, then, cockroaches do poop . . . a LOT!

This makes sense, as said, no other candies or gum in the drawer was eaten or even remotely taste-test nibbled! The crackers on the counter were untouched and all food in the cupboard secure.

As of Tuesday, I had to discover a way to kill a cockroach and decided in a 'note to self' moment that I must remember to secure my toothbrush and toothpaste, lest the mint-breathed cockroach find his way to my bathrooom to nibble on my toothbrush!!

This dilemma posed a question for serious pondering: Do I prefer having a mouse or a cockroach to trap? Now, I much prefer that the inhabitant critter be a cockroach to a mouse. However, another part preferred that it be a mouse. Realistically, the mouse should be easier to kill . . . they sell mice traps, but I have never seen a cockroach trap.

I was still contemplating matters when I returned home last night, went to the kitchen, and turned on the light to discover . . . a HUGE cockroach crawling over my kitchen counter.

ewwwww!

I stared at it, it stood still. It's long feelers nervously twitching as it sensed the danger of my sudden appearance in it's perceived domain. I contemplated getting the camera to document the finding, but decided that it would disappear before I could get back and thus, the opportunity was now. I grabbed one of my sandals (thankfully, there is always a pair at the backdoor for running out with garbage or laundry!) and whacked the thing for all it was worth. These things do not die easy . . . and this big guy needed 3 hefty whacks to completely kill it. I swept it onto the kitchen floor and doused it with bug spray liquid just to be sure.

Hopefully, that is the end of the saga!! I left 1 mint candy in the drawer as a test over the next few days, to see if there are more behind the counter who come to nibble. May last nights cockroach be the sole offender!

RockPointe Team . . . Part 1

Last month, my team had the privilege of hosting a prayer team to Niger - from my home church in Calgary!! It was such a joy to see friends from home and to share my life, villages - the Fulani people and ministry with them. To pray with them and cry with them for those around me - my guards and those in our Fulani villages. And I know that they return home to pray with a view of everyday life here and for a picture in their head of whom they are praying for.

Their two weeks in Niger were packed daily with trips to villages and other organizations in Niger that our team partners with. The second day, I drove the team out to visit Bani Fandu and Kongu - the regions/village that I worked with in July following the destruction of their huts. We met our friend Adam in the area of Bani Fandu and headed to the village region in Kongu.

As we reached the chief's huts, our trucks - and consequently, us - were surrounded by about 20 chattering villagers all exclaiming their joy over our coming. The team greeting them back . . . neither group speaking a language which each other understands. It was a such a joy to see this reunion. Last year, a team from our church had come on on a eyeglass trip and some of these fulani people had received eyeglasses, and some of the teammates were returning members. There were three men in particular, who looked so cute as they proudly presented themselves with their eyeglasses for the team to inspect.

The ladies and myself went into the hut to visit with the ladies (read: halting sentences from Kristi to translate a few questions and repetitive stutter of 'I don't understand' to a fair amount of their replies). This time also included quite a few photo opportunities. The men eventually all wandered outside to visit with the village men.

To conclude our visit, we all gathered in a hut - close to 15 people - to pray for this village and the villagers. We returned into town to a meal that our host Adam had prepared for us - spaghetti pasta (a typical white-guest meal, but beyond their regular fare of meals), rice & beans, and sauce - with two pieces of meat (also, added to the sauce for guests, not typical in their regular daily meals).

The next evening, I hosted the team at my house for supper. I love this part of every visiting team! I love to cook and have people over, and I enjoy getting to know the team members just a little bit more personally. Before we ate, we went across the street to the courtyard where my day guard Aklinine squats - to pray for him and his family. As we sat on the mat in his yard praying, the mosque down the street began the evening call to prayer. This was an emotionally and spiritually hard moment to sit and pray for my guard during the muzzein, knowing that when we left he would go down the street to pray at the mosque. And to ache for him a day when he can come to our Father freely.

The next two days, the team went to Tillaberi . . . a town about 1.5 hours outside of Niamey. Recently, members of our team (the Marineau family) finished their language study of Tamasheq and moved to this region to begin searching, amongst the surrounding villages, a place where they can minister. The team spent this time to pray with this family, the McIvers (more recently arrived and who will be studying Tamasheq as well), and to pray ahead for an opening in a village.

The team returned on Friday afternoon . . . stay tuned for Part 2 - weekend fun!

Tabasky . . . Monday, December 8

(caution: neither story nor photos are appropriate for children or those with weak stomachs)

Today, a smoky haze drifts over the city. Today is the celebration of Tabasky in the Muslim faith . . . a day to sacrifice a sheep (or goat, if a sheep cannot be afforded, and preferably male & white). The doing of which will be added to your ‘good deeds’ scale. At the end of life when a Muslim dies, they hope that their good deeds will balance heavier than their bad deeds and they will thus stand in greater chance that Allah will forgive their bad deeds and grant them entry to Paradise. Today is a day in which they demonstrate the substance or authenticity of their faith.

In Niger, this has also become a day to demonstrate their riches – or lack of poverty. For though it is required to only sacrifice one sheep for the entire family, many will sacrifice one sheep per family member. Others will sacrifice many more than their family members (10 sheep for a family of 2-3) to demonstrate they have the means to do so. This has also become, for 90% of the populace (according to my language tutor), more about having meat to eat today than religious fervor.

The price of sheep has been steadily climbing this last month – from 20,000cfa ($50) to 35,000 – 50,000cfa ($75 – $125) this weekend. To skyrocketing prices today: 175,000 – 400,000cfa ($450 - $1000). For a country listed in the bottom five of poorest nations, over a million sheep (estimate of my language tutor) will be slaughtered today.

The day of celebration begins, for the whole country, following the 9 am prayers at the Grand Mosque in Niamey, after which the sheep at the mosque are sacrificed – the blood flowing being the sacrifice. Once this is done, it is broadcasted on the radio and the populace can then sacrifice their sheep.

Between 11-1 the carcasses are splayed out on stakes in mass bonfires on the roads – thus making the drive to my language lesson an obstacle course, as I evaded all the BBQs.

The sheep cook for 4-6 hours; however, this is not eaten today. The women cook the innards all day for the feast tonight. Tomorrow, the roasted lamb is cut in half – one part for the family to eat, the other half of which is distributed to various family and friends.

Throughout today and tomorrow, griotes (professional beggars) circulate through the streets pounding their drums in the hopes of being paid a gift. Tomorrow, they will gain possibly more money, but they circulate with a sac tied to their waist in which to collect morsels of roast lamb. To increase the chances of making money, they will sing acclaim to/of the family . . . telling great stories of their grandparents and parents.

As I drove home this evening, past more and more roasting lambs – giving up on counting them all – my heart was saddened by the slavery these people are in. Slavery to their religious image and the enormous amounts of money they are obligated to spend for this celebration. Saddened by the religious bondage of acts and deeds to gain possible entrance to Paradise; when God our Father and Creator of all has already paid the ultimate sacrifice, to give us freely what we can never gain or merit of our own efforts.

Cold Season

. . . is finally here!

I cannot actually pinpoint 'THE Day'; however, at various points this week, I realized:

that the daytime was not getting as cold

that I no longer needed the fan in the room as I was too cold during the night with it on

and in fact yesterday night, that I needed a cover on the bed, even without the fan on!

Ah, cold season it it's glory! It is a wonderful feeling to feel cold. To wear long-sleeved tops again. To shiver in a cold wind.

The other day, I was speaking with my guard Karim in the yard, towards the evening, and there was a definite nip in the air . . . the wind was blowing strong and had I been in Canada, I would have said a storm was coming.

Alas, no rain storms until late-May or June. So, it is a little weird to have such strong winds and an internal sense of a storm brewing, but knowing that such will not happen.

As I type, it is 11 am and still only +25 degrees (and cloudy). Today is a cold day!

Covered Bride Custom

In answer to Dave's comment question:

'Does it ever happen that the groom uncovers the bride and discovers she is not who he thought he married?'

I asked my tutor Hamani this question. And he immediately started to chuckle and laugh. The immediate answer was 'yes'.

The reason for the laughter: it is usually a joke played on the groom; and usually, when the groom unveils his 'bride', he discovers one of his male friends or perhaps one of the bride's sisters. The bride is hidden away close to the hut though, as her parents know that she has already been stolen away to her groom (it is close to midnight!).

Hamani did recall a story once though, in the fashion of Jacob, Rachel and Leah from the Bible, of a Fulani groom who uncovered his 'bride' and found her older sister. He asked her what she was doing there and she said it was she who her father had given. He argued that he had paid dowry for her younger sister and she replied that her younger sister could not be married before she was. The groom immediately left the hut, rejoined his friends and left the vicinity. The next morning, he went to the father's hut to settle the dipute.

Upon speaking with the father, he learned that the father 'thought' he was bartering for the oldest daughter. The father said the younger sister was pledged in marriage to someone else and could not be given to him. The groom refused to marry the older sister and the family had to return the dowry and all the gifts.

One of my visitors last week also asked if the marriages are arranged or if the bride and groom can choose their partners.

Abdoulaye, our host that day, spoke that historically the marriages were arranged. However, with time and culture changing now, the bride and groom will often know each other before and have a choice in the marriage. If a young man requests marriage, the young lady in question has the right to say no and she is not forced to marry.

I have also learned, that contrary to our culture, it is permitted - and quite common - for the Fulani to marry within family clan and first cousins.

The courting ritual, as described by Hamani, is quite interesting. First off, the young man does not approach the young lady he wishes to see. He sends his friend over to her hut. The friends main goal is to slyly indicate: 'So, my friend x is thinking that he might like walk over to the well at such and such a time tomorrow. Do you think you may be drawing water at that time of day?'. If she answers positively, the 'date' is set and they meet at the well. However, it is also important that the someone speaks to the young girls family on behalf of the young man as well.

So that is the Fulani courting and wedding customs in the nutshell that I currently understand!

Sea of Colour

Earlier this month, I was invited to a Fulani wedding - the cousin of a team contact in Niger. Normally, a Fulani wedding is an all-day event; starting in the morning and lasting until well after midnight. Though I did not stay the entire time, the wedding marked my longest stay - to that date - in a village! My host - Abdoulaye - said that we would head to the village at 12 and leave there around 2 or 3 at the latest. (It was 8 pm by the time I arrived back at my house!)

The Fulani wedding is a highly charged family affair. However, the main difference to the Fulani wedding is that the bride and groom do not see each other throughout the day!

I arrived in the village around 1 pm, after driving through some of my deepest sand yet, and spent the next while in the hut of the groom's family. I then sat outside under a tree with Abdoulaye and all his cousins.

Now, Abdoulaye can speak French as well as Fulfulde (and some English as well); however, I quickly learned that he was serious about my making the effort to communicate with his family and the villagers in my own right. At one point, one of the gentlemen there asked me a question about my truck (as he spoke too fast, those were the only two words I understood in the sentence 'your truck'). I asked him to repeat himself two times and then noticed Abdoulaye watching me. When I looked at him, he just shrugged, smiled and turned back to his cousins. I asked this man to repeat himself two more times when Abdoulaye stepped in to say that if I could repeat the sentence, he would translate it for me. Unfortunately, as this man spoke too fast, I was unable to pick out words that I did not know. So, to this day, I do not know what this man so desperately wanted to know about my truck!

Throughout the early afternoon, the path to the hut was constant traffic, the Africans passing by and milling at the hut a sea of colour in their various pagne cloth and the bassin material irridescent and shimmering as the sun and shadows played off the colours. The ladies always carrying a bowl or ceramic pot on their head - bringing their wedding gift: water, millet (grain), milk, or rice. I saw a few arrive with live chickens!

The lunch meal was served around 3 o'clock and in traditional African style.

This little girl was so cute - mimicing the older women by stirring her own pot of water. Though by looking at the water now, I'm not sure if I want to know where that water went.

The men and women do not eat together, so I sat around a little pot with Abdoulaye's aunt.

Abdoulaye and his guy cousins sat behind us in a circle with their platter and then behind them all the girl cousins with another platter. The meal was rice and sauce and was amazing! I believe a tomatoe based sauce with some pumpkin and other vegetables. We also each received a cut of meat (sheep or goat) on a bone. This also provides a bit of quandry - I know that meat is reserved for special occassions and am never sure if I should leave the meat for them as they rarely at it, or if as the guest I should eat some as well. Abdoulaye's aunt solved the problem by pulling the meat off the bone and placing it in front of me (Though I snuck one piece with gristle back to her side when she wasn't looking!).

I also learned that the Fulani do not drink during a meal and that to start drinking is a signal that you are done. For, each time I reached towards my water bottle, she asked if I was finished. This makes sense though, as water is in either a bowl or container with a cup, and you hold the bowl or scoop this cup with your hands - one of which (the right) is sticky and gooey from eating with your hand. So, one would want to save the drinking until after eating and the hands are washed before handling the water bowl or cup.

After we ate, a delegation of ladies from the groom's family headed off with large bowls of food for the bride's family.

We headed off to check out the festivites around the village area. The first visit was the bride's hut, which was a contrast to the party we had left. The young bride spends the day curled on the bed ('mourning') with two attendants. She is not to show her face to the groom. Abdoulaye wanted me to take a picture of her (yes, that felt extremely socially awkward) and it took a while for the guys to convince her the groom was not there and to sit up and take the veil off her face for the picture. She did like the end result though!

I also told her congratulations for the marriage - as per instructions from my language tutor. However, the ceremony had not yet taken place (usually, I believe, this is done in the morning), so I sent the guardian-lady into a tizzy as she inquired if the ceremony was done. The guys had to smooth over the white lady's error!

Walking further down the road into the village proper, we saw the groom and his family celebrating. A much different picture here!! The groom is outside, sitting with all his friends, eating, laughing and having a good time! (pictured here in the centre)

We stayed here for a while and then headed back to the first hut in time to see the delegation for the ceremony walking off to the ceremony site. Abdoulaye's aunt motioned for me to join here and I followed along. The group sits men and women apart for this as well.

The ceremony is the moment when the bride and groom are joined in marriage - yet, neither of them are there! The blessings are pronounced and then the ladies pass around cola nuts and dates.

I received a mixed handful; however, the giver quickly took back all the dates and 'blessed' me with a handful of cola nuts! Now, I don't like the cola nuts, though all the Fulani women love (and are quite addicted) to these. They are odd little fruit things, more like chomping on a parsnip in texture; however, the second you bite into the fruit, all the moisture in your mouth is sucked into the fruit and you are left with a dry bitter taste! Definitely not my favourite! Abdoulaye's aunt asked if I ate the cola nuts and I mentioned 'no', so she traded all my cola nuts for another lady's dates. I didn't have the heart to tell her I don't like dates either; but I figured if I was going to be required to eat something in front of them, I preferred the dates.

We left shortly after the ceremony. However, the party continues on for hours - separate still - until between 10pm and midnight when the bride is brought over to the groom's hut. The groom verifies it is her, though she has been instructed not to let him lift the veil off her face until he tries three times. Then he returns outside and the party continues until the wee hours of the morning when everyone retires.

Various Photos from the Day:

This guy is teasing his Uncle that his outfit is so large that he could fit inside too!! Note the Uncle reaching for the stick with which to whack his nephew!

Village ladies drawing water from the well and the donkeys waiting to carry the load.

Musings from Africa

Things I have pondered in the recent weeks:

1. Why do geckos love living inside instead of being content to live outside with all the other lizards?
2. Is the black speck in my crêpe batter - originating, I believe, from the sugar - extra protein (read: bug) or sand?
3. How I can sleep my whole life 'mosquito-net-free'; yet after 4 months of sleeping with a mosquito net, why do I suddently feel exposed to sleep without it?

Okay, this one I figured out! The other night I was reading on my bed and happened to look up in time to see a mosquito dive-bombing at my face. I swiped at him 1/2 inch from my eye, but missed. He quickly retreated to the ceiling and I just as quickly put the mosquito netting back around my bed!!

4. Why children believe that running after/at a moving vehicle to:
   1. hit the side
   2. jump in the back box
   3. dangle off the tailgate
   is a game?!!??

Note to self: Drive down different road home when school is recently out for noon-break.

5. How dumping chunks of cement blocks in a hole in the dirt road somehow makes the road better to drive on.
6. How Harmattan winds bring in so much sand from the desert that one can look at the sun bare-eyed.

   Yup . . . desertification in it's glory!

7. How the same food item on a restaurant menu tastes different every time I order it.
8. How do cockroaches get out of the shower drain when the drain cap is on?
9. Why the ratio of onions which make me cry while cutting them is higher here than Canada.
and finally, pondering . . .
10. the joy of cold season and how after 8 months of sweating, how wonderful it is to discover a state of non-sweating once again!! I was beginning to wonder if such a state existed over here! As my friend said this week: 'It finally feels like we are outside on a nice hot summer day instead of in an oven!' I whole-heartedly agree, what an apt comparison!

Is Today THE Day??!

Since the start of rainy season (June) and more so, since the start of this last hot season (October), my team has told me many times that the month of October was another mini-hot season. (Mini because of the length not the degree of temperature.) It has also been related that through the end of October, the temperatures begin to drop - promising the arrival of cold season - until one day you wake up and the temperature has changed. One day, it continues to get hot during the day and the next - cool all day.

For the last few weeks, we have begun to see the change here - the evenings and mornings are definitely cooler. I have begun sleeping with the fan again and the last few mornings I have woken up cold!! (What a joyfully wonderous feeling!) In fact, the last few nights I have consistently turned down the fan speed to 2 and then 3!

Well, today I wonder if today is THE day!! Though it is still warmish outside (the web temperature indicates 34 degrees) the wind is blowing and there is a coolness in the air!! Perhaps cold season is here today or just closer to being here! In either case, this has brought excitement to my soul!

Stay tuned!

Well . . . back to studying!

I am a Polyglot

My friend e-mailed me yesterday to ask how 'my polyglot self was doing'. Being a lover of words, I instantly checked this one out in the dictionary:

Polyglot:

1. one who is polyglot
2. a book containing versions of the same text in several languages (especially : the Scriptures in several languages)
3. a mixture or confusion of languages or nomenclatures

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/polyglot

Though some days I wish (and aspire to one day reach again, in all my languages) that I was definition #2; but alas, most days I feel like I am closer to definition #3. In Québec while studying French, I occasionally felt like I was losing my English grammar - my English sentences were often inter-spersed with French words and grammatical structure. Well, again, I feel sometimes that I am losing language, but now a bit of French! A friend has told me each time you learn a language, you have to lose some of your others to make room . . . not sure what that means for me as I have now started (offically learning) learning my fifth! Yet, this makes sense as my German and sign language are fastly disappearing; though I do wish that I would lose more of what I am not using (the above two) and less of my English and French.

The professor of my linguistics course in Toronto spoke of some languages which add groupings of letters into words (in-fixes) to add-on to the meaning. He gave us an example of one word in Turkish (note each infix is a different colour, 'x' represents a letter I forget):

kanadaliastinilxxxlaedsunusx

Each infix added different nuances to the word: causative, interrogative, plural, past tense etc... Until this one word means: Are you (plural) from among us, those who were caused to become Canadians?

I remember thinking in class that was crazy huge and hoping that my language did not have such things to learn . . .

and . . .

you guessed it!! This week, I learned that Fulfulde has infixes!!! to add into verbs, changing how said action is done.

Though, thankfully, not as many, nor the capabilities of stringing this many together. There are 7 various infixes and not all can even be used together in one word. I am also, thankfully, having fun trying to mesh these into words to find the longest word (ie: the one with the most infixes) that I possibly can. Not sure my prof is having as much fun as I am, but he patiently corrects all my attempts! So far, I have been able to string together 3 and my current goal is to succeed with 4!

My infixes:

id: with someone

an: for someone, in the name of someone, to

in: cause someone to do said action (eg: to study = janngude, to teach = jannginude)

ir: with something or in a certain manner

odir: with each other

ow: to go somewhere to do said action

it: repeating of said action

My longest word so far, and thus shortest sentence, is:

Miden kaalodirowa Teppe. (We are going to Teppe in order to speak with each other.)

I will keep you posted if I ever succeed at 4 or more!

I have also learned the number system (counting) and money system this week. A somewhat perturbing and yet challenging occurence.

First off, the systems for counting numbers and counting money are completely different, yet slightly entwined. To top it off, both systems are majorly dependant on math skills!! (Not my strength - okay, I did okay in Grade 1 math, when all involved was 1 + 1 = 2 and 2 + 2 = 4).

The math here is slightly more complicated. When learning French, way back in high school, I remember being frustrated that language and math had to be mixed (eg: 99 is 4 x 20 + 19). Well, in comparison to Fulfulde, that is simple!

The counting numbering system goes as high as five and then starts adding and multiplying these numbers (though there are words for major dividing points: 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 . . . up to 100; and then 1000, and 1,000,000).

The part I try to make fun, is trying different numbers (which I will never likely use) to try and make the longest speaking number I can. My current favourite is:

561,376

ujuere keme joy e ujunere laasoji e tati e go'o e keme tati e laasoji tati e sapo e jeego'o

= 5,000s x 5 500s and 5,000s x 3 20s and (5 + 1) and 1 and 3 500s and 3 20s + 10 and (5 + 1)

I have decided to make this the number of camels that I am worth, as it is sort of fun to say. (Though, can anyone working with the Fulani verify that this number is unachieveable before I get myself in trouble??!?)

The money counting system is even more complicated. Every number builds of the smallest denomination - the 5 franc coin. This is called buudu - pluralized, it is buudi. Each number amount is based on a multiple of this coin - using a few of the numbers from the counting system. Small amounts - fairly simple: 10 francs is 5 francs x 2 (buudi didi) and 25 francs is 5 francs x 5 (buudi joy).

It gets slightly more complicated with the larger numbers as you have to divide the amount by 5 and then determine by which of the larger above numbers (10, 100, 1000) or major money numbers (500, 5000) you are going to multiple the 5 franc coin.

Hence the math . . . and my sincerely confused brain!!

For example: 18,500 becomes

buudi ujunaji didi e buudi kemi jeedidi

Thankfully, the buudi (5 franc coin word does not need to be repeated for each multiplication phrase, as it is understood to be the base). So this spoken, is essentially:

5 francs x 2 thousands (=10,000) + 5 francs x 7 500s (=3,500).

Yes, my confuzzled polyglot self is definitely a: mixture or confusion of languages or nomenclatures!

A Fulani Baby Naming Ceremony

In the Fulani (and many other African) cultures, the parents of newborn children will hold a baby-naming ceremony on the 7th or 8th day following the birth. Though some parents will name their child before the ceremony, the name is closely guarded until the ceremony. Following the ceremony, is a day of partying.

I had the privelege of attending my first Fulani baby-naming ceremony last week, at the home of my night guard Karim. His wife had twin boys!! This event has added to my Fulfulde vocabulary as I learned that they do not have a word for 'twins'; however, they have a word that means 'multiple children' and then you add the number (2, 3, etc...). So, twins is actually 'multiple children times 2' - funebe didi.

The other part I have learned of this culture is the expectation that goes into this event - for a people group that is among the poorest of the poor, they spend at least $200 for the party to feed all the guests who come and give food gifts (cola, dates, kola nuts, popcorn). Feeding the guests includes slaughtering at least 1-2 sheep or goats. This is done for every child born (not just the first) and these twins are the seventh children born to my guard (the first child died) and his wife is only 29 years old!

I headed to the village also prepared with some cultural cues from my language tutor. Under no circumstance was I to do any of the following actions:

touch a child on the head (this is not permitted even amongst their culture, but should I do this, the family will think that I want to eat their child!)

point at children or animals - any animal really, but especially cows (again, if I point at children while counting them, the villagers will think that I want to eat them!)

if I do not know people, do not ask how many children they have (same implication??!). This was a disappointing cue to learn as it is one of the few questions/topics I can converse in using Fulfulde.)

do not say the baby is big - our cultural norm. (Again, this gives the impression that I want to eat the baby.)

(hmm, sensing an overall theme to their fears regarding white people? - no wonder why the children ofttimes seem hesitant to approach us! and some run away crying?)

do not say that the baby is beautiful, cute (or generally anything nice). In their cultural superstition, the bad spirits are looking exchange a good baby for their own babies. Instead, I should say that the baby is ugly or a 'villain like his father'.

The naming ceremonies generally start at 7:30 am!! As my guard lives out of town, I left Niamey at 6:45! A huge sacrifice - those who know me well know that I am not a morning person - add to this the sacrifice of no coffee to aid my morning confuzzled brain! (As bathroom situations are sketchy in the villages, I decided not to compound the potential of needing a toilet with extra coffee!)

I headed off to the village with my friend Cecilia and three of my guard's friends. Once we arrived in the village, Cecilia and I were hustled off to the ladies hut and the guys went to hang out with all the village men. In the Fulani culture, the women and men are culturally separate for many activities - religious activities (at the mosque), parties, eating, etc...

As such, we were not expecting to actually view the naming ceremony per se; however, Karim ventured into the hut at one point to say that we would be expected at the mosque in five minutes. Cecilia and I were quite unsure what to do, yet followed the group of ladies when they headed out and seemed to signal for us to follow. Had he spoke to me in Fulfulde, despite my lack of vocabulary, it would have been more clear - for in Fulfulde there are two words for 'we' (the French nous). One which indicates 'me and this group, including you to whom I speak' and the other which indicates 'me and this group, excluding you to whom I speak'.

We show up at the mosque and are quite relieved to see that the women are leading us into a side room (read: wood walled enclosure) beside where the man are gathering. We realize that we are now sitting on the women's side and are still culturally appropriate.

A few minutes later, Karim walks over and asks me to take a few pictures for him. This involves walking back to the hut to gather my camera and when I entered, the ladies are praying; but quickly grab my bag and head back. In my quick entry and exit however, I notice that there is now sitting in the hut a chair with a bowl and a knife. Upon returning to the mosque, I inform Cecilia that I hope we are not going to be party to watching a circumcision!

I take a few photos of the men gathering outside the mosque, feeling very conspicuous that Karim motioned where to take the photos and promptly disappeared leaving me there along with all these guys watching every move I make!

As I made my way back into the ladies side of the mosque, the ladies hosting Cecilia and I indicated that I should sit just inside the men's entrance so I could take more photos . I could not have felt more awkward, but felt I needed to follow my hosts' instructions.

After the group leader spoke the name of the twin boys, we all headed back to the area in front of Karim's hut - Cecilia and I back into the hut and the men back to their party area. I was thankful to see that the chair, bowl and knife were being used for food preparation!! We did, though, get to witness another Fulani tradition at a naming ceremony - the shaving of the child's head. This is an essential component to the naming ceremony - be the child boy or girl - and given the cultural restrictions around touching the head of children, the family carefully selects a village 'granny' whom they trust to do this task and whom they trust to touch the head of their child.

We were happy to notice that they used a new (and therefore clean) blade for each of the twins; however, it was hard to keep a neutral face while watching them scrape the razor blades over their little heads. I noticed that the hair was being gathered in a dish to the side - all pieces that fell on the sand were gathered up. These were set aside for the family to dispose of, as this culture will hold to the supersitition that someone could use the hair to curse the baby. The following pictures are unfortunately the only ones of the twins - as the twins spent the day in the hut with the mother, the lighting was not the best to take pictures in.

After the shaving ceremony, the babies are bathed. This was interesting to see, as the soap was laid on the sand between use; and following the bath, the baby was again wrapped in the same cloth - that had been laying in the sand during the bathing!! Also following the bath, the women circled the baby over the tub of water and gently threw him in the air to catch over the water - repeating this action three times. While this is done, the mother (or bather) speaks a blessing to the baby.

Following all this, Cecilia and I again were passed the babies to hold. They were indeed so cute and we determined that they are fraternal twins. The babies are named:

Hassani Abdoulaye (Hassan for short)

Husseini Abdoulaye (Seini for short)

which are quite typical names for twins as they go well together. We chatted with a few of the women. Hassan peed on me (there are no diapers here!). One lady shook her breast at me (apparently to indicate that the woman who had just walked in was the mother of the Karim's wife). And we wandered outside thinking to leave. However, we discovered the meal was at noon(-ish) and not in the evening, so we stuck around for the feast.

At the time the food was ready to serve, Cecilia and I were brought a plate of food and two spoons. This one plate piled higher than we thought the two of us could eat. This plate was shortly joined by another plate, indicating that we each were expected to eat that much food! Then, before we could start eating (though we were waiting for the other ladies to join us, knowing it was impolite to eat infront of others) the ladies indicated that they would like for us to move into the chicken hut! We assured them that we were quite fine eating with them (this I could even say in fulfulde! - and I was quite careful to use the 'we' word that included the ladies with whom we were speaking); however, they were insistent . . . so we made to move and the ladies carried our plates into the hen hut.

We discovered within a few minutes that we had been moved into the hen hut (essentially out of sight) due to the cultural restraints of not eating in front of others. For as we looked out through the straw poles we could see that none of the other women were eating! As best we can determine, as guests, we were fed at the same time as the men and thus with no women eating at that time, it was not culturally appropriate that we sat with them to eat while they were not also eating.

Shortly after eating, we joined up with Karim's friends who came looking for us as they were ready to then leave. The day was full of informal cultual learning! I also discovered, after arriving home and reading my notes, that my day was also full of a few (at least 3 that I know of) language blunders - but, thankfully, not horrendous 'I-can-never-return-to-this-village' blunders!