Wordless Wednesday: Market Place - Niamey

Well, here I am a week later and still trying to load photos on Dec 29th - here's hoping the power stays on enough to load the last two pictures!

Wordless Wednesday

Sunday Surveys in the Village

Sunday is market day in the village of Kongu – so I drove out 12 kilometres from Niamey to the Kongu market, in the hopes of meeting 3 families to survey about the grain aid program.

The families did not come in to market this day, but local villagers informed my survey assistants – Abdoulaye & Moussa – that they knew the roads to each house.

Abdoulaye & Moussa:

So off we head - driving another 3 km to find the first hut – in the end, the terrain was so bad I had to park my truck and walk the last ½ kilometre. As I walk through the fields, I notice two men and a child on a donkey walking towards the village market – strapped to the donkey are four 25L plastic containers. Abdoulaye informs me that they live behind the ‘mountain’ (hill) and are walking (at least 7 kilometres) to the market to buy their water for the week as there is no well close to where they live.

This first family that I meet are two brothers - living in two huts nestled in a circle of bare ground in their field. They are recipients of the grain aid program of this rainy season due to the famine last year.

Two Fulani men – recipients & 2 Djarma neighbours:

Their children peeking out of the second hut:

As I conduct the survey I realize that this family could define both the word ‘impoverished’ and the concept of ‘being caught in a cycle of poverty’. Because of the grain aid this year, their family was able to survive the rainy season, yet even with the reduced price grain (they paid just over 1/3 of market price for a 100kg sack of millet per month), the season was difficult. At times they sold a portion of their sack to these two Djarma neighbours; sharing among the four households – receiving less in order to afford any.

In the words of the two men as head of the household:

‘Those among our neighbours who did not receive the grain aid had to leave their fields. Without your aid, we too would have been forced to leave our huts and our field. The grain aid program was like your team saw someone walking on the road, picked them up and drove them directly to their destination!’

Impoverished

Then when they share about their harvest of this year, they informed me that it was as scarce as the previous year. The son of one older man planted the field, but then left – moving into Niamey for work because there was no food. The rest of the family members (children) were sent to neighbouring fields to work for money so that the household could buy food. As a result, their field was not cultivated and they had little harvest to reap. Because of this, they will now need to leave to find food. I pray that come next rainy season, they can return in the hopes for next year’s crop.

Cycle of Poverty

As I stand in their fields, I gaze across a barren and dry land. How anything grows in this sand is beyond me.

How these people eek out their existence and grow millet crops in this desolation is further beyond me. The hot wind blowing around me is as parched and dry as the land under my feet. And it feels like the desolation is blowing across my soul as hot and parched as the wind I feel on my face. My soul aches for these people; though they are grateful for the help of this past year, I wonder if all we have done is delayed the inevitable. With no food for this year – and aid not as readily available, because on a whole, Niger is no longer in a famine due to a decent crop harvest in most of the country – will this family now be forced to leave their homes and fields like those around them?

Abdoulaye, Moussa and I return to my truck and head back to the market place. It takes a bit longer due to a disagreement over a fork in the road . . . I was right – and we had to double back once we hit a sandy gorge that I refused to drive through. Eventually we arrive back at the market and here we meet a new guide – from the market place we head off another 7 km further into the bush. A trip that takes 30 minutes! (Roughly travelling 4 km/hour??!?) This household is 20 km North East of Niamey – the recipients the furthest out . . . who walked 20km into the city once/month to retrieve their grain aid sack!

As I park my truck to walk through their field, I count a cluster of 7 huts – living here is a family consisting of approximately 17 people; the grain aid recipient and his wife, his two grown sons and their families.

Also riding in my truck for this trip are two older men: the village chief and another village elder. They have travelled out with us to give their condolences to a neighbouring family – while at the market, they heard of a death in this other household.

While the two older men along with Abdoulaye & Moussa head off further into the bush to greet the family in mourning, I join my guide, his brother and his father in one of the huts for the survey. Before I can start, the one brother talks with me about the health teaching I did as part of the grain distribution. He makes the Oral Rehydration Solution for his children each time there are sick with diarrhea or vomiting – and it brings them health. He has also walked around hut to hut in his surrounding area to teach his neighbours how to make and use the ORS!

At the end of the survey, I ask if I can take a photo – and the family scurries around from hut to hut trying to find enough clothes for the previously naked children!

It is now back to the market and here I buy us lunch – though we do not eat here because of the crowds (Fulani do not eat in front of others who are not eating). The food will wait until we arrive at the next household, where we can sit apart for a few minutes to eat.

My truck has again gained passengers, this time, 2 women and the village chief in the cab plus some young men and children bouncing around the bumpy roads in the back. Most of the passengers are heading back to Niamey from the market. They realize that I will be stopping for an interview – but are either content to wait, happy to not walk; or perhaps despite the delay, the truck ride is still faster! Along the way, I stop to drop the young men off in another small village which is roughly en route. This last household takes a while to find – no one is quite sure which desert road to take and we drive around for a bit. It seems they know where the family lives, just not necessarily how to get there from where we started.

We finally reach our destination; however, I am surprised to discover that for this family 'living in their field' is more literal than I am accustomed to. Normally, this refers to a household that has left Niamey and built their straw hut on their land, on the edge of their field.

There is no hut. Below you can see the wind break they have built with a mat to construct a kitchen for cooking. I can only assume that they sleep on the ground under a tree.

After we arrive and greet the family, the truck inhabitants immediately divide into two groups – my passengers to sit with the family, while Abdoulaye, Moussa and I head off to eat. I eat while sitting on the corner of a mat with my back to a crowd of curious children, meanwhile the other two head further away out of sight. Culture dictates that men and women cannot eat together on the same mat, so they have walked away . . . but they walked further out of sight, because the village chief is related somehow to Moussa in a familial relationship which in their culture deems that Moussa cannot eat in front of him (the chief).

Lunch is now a cold meal of fried igname (potato) covered in a hot spice sauce. As it is cold, it is a meal which I know is quite likely to cause me stomach issues in a few days. But, aside from the cookies in my bag, it is all I have.

Setting up for the Survey:

Once the survey is complete, we all pile back into the truck and head back into town. It has been a long day – physically and emotionally. We have been out in the village for 6.5 hours. Due to the distances – I drove 67 km round and about the desert/bush – I interviewed only 3 families!

Emotionally, it was a long day, for I could lay a safe bet that today I met some of, if not the poorest, of this village’s grain recipients. Though most of the villagers reaped a small harvest – due to late rain or bugs eating their crop – those closer in to the capital seem to fare a bit better as they sell milk from their cows in order to buy food. Yet conversely, I also know from other surveyants that selling milk is not a sure gain – some days no one wants to buy milk. And now, because of the famine, many cows have died, thus reducing their income potential.

As in the case of the first family, I wonder how they all survive from year to year. How will they not only survive this year following a famine, but also try to recover their tenuous 'pre-famine economic position'? That economic position, though better than where they are now, was still one of poverty. And even if they do recover, how do they move forward beyond the 'cycle of poverty' in which they are trapped?

Wordless Wednesday

Celebration

Well, it has been a long time since I posted a blog . . . given a few 3-day power outages and numerous weeks of no internet (I am using internet chez friends at the moment) - a problem hopefully to be solved this week. Much has happened these last two months to catch you up on, but for today, a short post.

Following the grain aid program to help a Fulani village - Kongu - through the lean months of rainy season, because of the famine last year, the village decided to show their appreciation. a party was organized and the whole team was invited for the morning.

We arrived to the courtyard to see the grain recipients starting to gather for the event. We arrived shortly after time determined for the event to start. Emphasis on the 'starting to gather' . . . to my amusement earlier in the week, I eavesdropped on Abdoulaye's phone calls as he organized the event - phone calls in which he told the recipients to come one hour before the time in which he asked us to come!! Thirty minutes after the designated starting time, he called the party to order - and over the duration of the event, the villagers continued to trickle into the courtyard!

The village representatives and committee of the grain program - village chief (treasurer), village chief's son (secretary - as the only adult in the village to attend school), committee President:

The event included speeches from village chief to express thanks on behalf of the recipients. A speech from the village chief's son to explain the history of the village. And speeches by our team representatives.

We were then surprised by the gift of refreshments to all gathered!

Finally, the paparazzi moment as we gathered with the Canadian flag and had group pictures - us with the ladies, us with men.

Wordless Wednesday

The Mark of Beauty

Earlier this year, I decided that I wanted to feel like 'me' again . . . and returned to highlighting my hair. I have never been sure if this would be seen as the locals as extravagent. But, this year, I justified that whenever I am at my friend's homes, my hair is wrapped up in a head wrap (mosoro) . . .

. . . and thus, no one would ever see the change!!

I learned this week, that at least at my friend Aissa's house, this hair colouring exercise would be perfectly understood! For when I arrived at her house, Aissa was dying her hair: from black to blacker!

For a few hundred francs, she can buy a hair dye kit in a box! (A very tiny box.) First, she dumped white powder onto a tin plate. Then, she added a bit of water and stirred it with her finger to get rid of the clumps. Finally, she poured in a small capsule of acid. This she stirred with a shoe polish brush and then proceeded to 'shoe polish' her hair . . . brushing in the hair dye with said brush.

Quite honestly, I could not see the difference from start to finish . . . but black is one of the essential elements in Fulani beauty.

Aissa asked if I wanted to dye my hair as well. I thus explained that I had already dyed my hair this year, but that I 'reduced' my colour to white (blond). Ah yes, she exclaimed: The Fulani like black hair and black lips, but the white people like whiter hair and red lips!

It was interesting to hear her perception of my culture and how we define beauty. However, upon reflection - and thinking of our magazines and tv shows - I'd say that she has a rather accurate perception of how 'white people' define beauty! Especially the 'red lips' bit.

I then remembered my Fulani language tutor explaining to me the 'marks of beauty' in a Fulani women - it is actually quite the extensive list:

3 things White:

1. white eyes (not bloodshot)

2. white teeth

3. white (er) skin tone (basically, lighter skin than the man)

3 things Black:

1. black hair

2. black lips

(They will dye their lips black - poking it 30-50 times with a needle and then pouring in black powder from a tree.)

3. black feet

(done with henna - as mentioned in a previous - Spa Day - post)

3 things Big:

1. big eyes

2. big chest

3. big behind

3 things Thin:

1. thin neck

2. thin arms

3. thin ankle

My language tutor then informed me that men will rate the women and perhaps I might hear them refer to a woman as a '9' or '10', and thus forth. He also explained that they realize as well that they will never find a '12', but each man needs to decide for himself which of the '12' marks of beauty he is willing to compromise on, in his choosing of a wife.

Not in the list though, are the intricate tattoo or scarring patterns on the women, and sometimes men, in Niger. The often indicates ethnicity. Though not everyone does the scarring, the Fulani women will often have a gecko shaped scarring on their forehead. There are however other pattenrs - often geometric shapes or just a few lines as well.

Though I would never do this myself, and I shudder to think of the pain involved in the process, I find the intricacy of the different patterns striking and beautiful!!

Wordless Wednesday

Work-Cation

So last week, I took what I am terming a 'work-cation'. It all started with the need to redo the sewer pipe system in my yard. As my colleague Daniel has said in regards to my frequent water drainage issues: ''The root of your problem . . . is roots!!"

Yes, the trees planted alongside my house search all possible water sources - and the roots of said trees grow into what I believed to be the entrance of the pipes from each collecting point (square hole) along the pipe line.

As you can see from photos below, the problem is along the whole pipe line and not just at the entry points . . .

So, as the plumber estimated it would take 3 days to replace the system with new pipes - and during said time I would be without toilets and showers - I decided to move into a guest house in town. I figured it would likely take more than the estimated time and so I booked for 3 nights at the guest house.

Thus the 'work-cation": I was still working. But the 'cation' came in that I was away from home and all the ensuing 'obligations'. (Though, I have to say, this part of my plan 'failed', for the few times I zipped in and out for clothes and money, my employees in the vicinity still managed to find me and ask me for money!)

Be that as it may, I had the feeling of being away and the joy of not having to cook for myself (beyond the reheating of pizza and cinnamon rolls purchased from the guest house freezer). It was a wonderful break.

Surprisingly, the plumber was finished in record time - and faster than he estimated! I was surprised that he finished the work in 1.5 days. However, as I was already booked at the guest house, I decided to stay and enjoy the 'cation' part of my working week!

Work in progress:

New pipe waiting to be placed in the ground:

You may ask if the plumbing issues are normal here. I cannot say for every house - though mine seems to have an inordinate amount of trees in the courtyard, and thus I think I need the plumber more often to powder burn out the tree roots - but I can say that I guess in the desert, the trees will grow roots where they must in search of the little water available:

At one point last year, the plumber came to fix a toilet. I thought he mentioned that we needed to let the 'declogging' powder sit awhile in the toilet. I misunderstood him and a few minutes later, as I sat calmly working at my desk, the plumber walked by carrying my toilet!! After some discussion and a few repeats of sentences, I learned that the tree in the courtyard next to my house was growing roots under the wall, up through the sewer pipes and into my toilet!

Wordless Wednesday

Labour Day

Such an odd title for a holiday . . . and thus an odd, but also appropriate title for my blog. It seems that I have not much to tell these days - due to my ceaseless labour in the office these last 3 weeks to help prepare the 2011 budget, finish the July and August accounting, and my evenings studying Fulfulde - I have not been out and about visiting much. Thus, a sad feeling that I do not have many stories to share. Today though, I had the 'brilliant' idea to share of a holiday day spent in Niamey.

I did take my labour day holiday - actually on the Wednesday, as the Monday I laboured on the budget. . .

However, I did a few interesting things that I have been waiting awhile to do:

After sleeping in and a nice lunch at the American Rec Centre, Rebecca and I headed to the river to take pictures.

The squash boats are in from Mali!! Once a year, these huge wooden canoe boats arrive from upriver in Mali and bring us fresh squash of every variety!! Some resemble pumpkin and some little spaghetti squash. But, I always love seeing the huge boats and eating fresh squash!

Alas, the day I went, there was only one such large boat and just the other day I saw 5-6 all lined up on the banks. I will have to try another year to get a picture of a larger group of canoes.

Another picture that I have waited a while to take is the laundry area. Yes, in this dirty river are many launderers and laundresses . . . and the clothes and rugs all dry over the bridge railing or on the sandy banks!

I always wonder how clean they actually get in all that dirty water and then dried on dirt!!

I also wanted to take pictures of the river, which is currently flooding from a dam break in Burkina Faso - on a tributary which feeds into The Niger.

When the river peaked after the dam break, the river overflowed its banks - wiping out houses, fields and gardens. It was the highest the locals have seen in over 15 years! The river has receeded some, however, the river will not reach its normal peak until December-January. The river is still higher than I have seen in the last two years and the river still awaits the rainy season drain-off from Mali. I am sure that the situation will not rectify any time soon. The SAHEL International School on the river banks - where ex-pat children attend - is shoring up their dike in an effort to help contain or avert flooding of their campus.

It is bizarre to think that in parts of this country there is famine due to lack of rain and in other parts there is flooding!

After our photo taking, Rebecca and I headed further downtown for a special treat - soft ice cream!! There is an international trades fair in town, which normally means that a vendor has brought a soft ice cream machine. Such a treat!! For a few hundred francs on a hot day we enjoyed this special cup of vanilla & strawberry swirl.

Wordless Wednesday: Locust