The villagers of Kongu had indicated that they were reluctant to try the new millet seed – though they had heard the new seed was better, they considered it too great a risk to leave what they knew (even though they knew it was bad) for something unknown which could be better . . . or could be worse. The seed grain that we provided allowed to plant with minimal risk and try the new seed, alongside the old millet type, to see for themselves the difference.
Each of the villagers received:
- 5 kilo sac of the new millet seed grain
- 10 kilo sac of non-organic fertilizer
- 1 small packet of micro-dose pesticide
We headed to the chief’s land for the distribution and the men of the village came in to retrieve their packages:
The sacks of non-organic fertilizer arrived in
20 kilo sacs, so they needed to be divided
for the receipt of 10 kilos per villager.
Photos Courtesy of Chantelle McIver
Unfortunately, as we unloaded the seed, we discovered that the supplier had buried into the load some sacks of old seed which was likely not even the new seed type. As we were delivering close to town, we called the supplier and insisted on his replacing the sacks.
The next morning, I headed out to the village with the millet sacks for grain delivery:
Then as I arrived back in town at noon, the new seed grain 5 kilo sacks were delivered to the office. So, I loaded my truck back up, stopped in town for a lunch of rice and sauce and headed back to the village. As they had all walked in that morning for their food delivery, I decided to head into the village myself this time to deliver the remaining sacks.
I dropped four sacks off at the first district out of town and headed to the toll booth to meet my guide for the trip out to the furthest village area, 25 km from the capital. Thankfully, I had brought homework along with me – I waited at the toll booth for an hour, as he phoned me every 15 minutes to assure me that he and his bike were on the way!
He finally arrived and we were on our way. We stopped at his hut first to drop off his sack and those of his neighbours. Then it was off to Kongu Karibangu. I was excited to be heading here, as I had not yet been to this village area!
About half way there, my guide asked me if I wanted to drive the short-cut through the field or the longer route on the road. As I could see the sun leaning towards sunset, I choose the short-cut. Well, half way through the field, as we came down the lee-side of a dirt clod hill, I heard a loud POOOOOF!! I pulled my truck over and sure enough – I blew my tire!
Now for those who have followed my blog from the beginning, you know that I
learned to change a tire for the first time in Niger. Though I have changed a few flats in town since, as I stood in the desert far from town,
and looked at this flat tire – I knew this was the reason that I persisted in learning this essential skill! The last time I changed a tire, it took me 45 minutes . . . I was not looking forward to the task, but I knew I could do it.
(It took my guide and I a record 15 minutes to change my tire that day . . . Praise the Lord!)
The villager living in the huts for which we were aiming saw us stuck in his field and walked out. By the time he arrived, we were ready to go and we drove slowly through his field to reach his hut. His family warmly welcomed me with many smiles and the typical Fulani offer of warm milk.
He had not yet unloaded his sack of millet from the grain distribution and posed with the sack of grain for his family that month – along with the warm milk and millet mush drink that is a staple in the Fulani family.
I was then gifted with my first live gift . . . a pintade (wild guinea fowl) . . . which he tied down to the sand ladders in the back of my truck for the ride home!
As we were preparing to leave, the family wanted to know about the blown tire. I explained that we chose to drive the short-cut through the field. The were not happy with my guide and I explained again that I had been given a choice and that I had chosen to drive through the field. My host then declared “Always the road Khadiza, you should always choose the road!” He then climbed into my truck as well, to show us the road back as my guide was not 100% sure.
We headed off down the “road” . . . more like a worn donkey cart trail in the dirt. Until at one point my new guide indicated I should turn left – into another field which would connect us to the next road over. As we drove through this field, my new guide declared to the first guide: “Now, you know the road”!!! It was all I could do not to shake my head and laugh! But, we made it through this field with no hazard and I headed back to the edge of town for my final delivery.
The next day, I inspected my tire and discovered that it was not even salvageable!
I thank the Lord often for His safety and protection on the “roads” as I travel around the village!
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