An unexpected farewell

So…where to start?  I moved to my village, settled in and was just able to cross day seven of being “in village” off on my calendar.  I won’t say it was easy--communication was a huge challenge.  I was nervous about my pint-sized mud hut, but after some inspired rearrangements and reorganizations I made it my cozy little cubby in the Sahel.  I had a bowlegged dog to bark at the wind and pre-wash the dishes, and a healthy acacia tree that attracted plenty of birds to flirt. 

The village had about 500 people in it, situated in a valley Northeast of Zinder.  It was certainly a bush post: the Peace Corps Land Cruiser blazed its own path through the sand, millet stalks and brush to install me and all my furnishings.  There were low mountains that I walked to often, and a profound gulch that would rage come rainy season.  The mai gari, or village mayor who serves for life, was old and sickly, but there was one man, Maman, who was quite the mover and a shaker. He seemed to be the one to mobilize the villagers and get projects done along with his sister A’aiche.  She and I took several walks to the low mountains and through the dry riverbed with her two kids and she taught me bird and plant names in Hausa.  I spent most of my first days sitting on a mat with the ladies as they pounded millet, helped me with my Hausa and teased me.  I think I had found my counterpart and a best friend.

In short, things were going very well up until I got the call that all Peace Corps Volunteers were being evacuated from Niger.  Since my village didn’t have any electricity, my phone was dead and I received the news from one of my neighbors who came to my house with his cell phone.  He said that “Niamey” had called him, and that is when I received the message that I was to pack up all of my things and leave Niger.

Six days later I am here in Morocco at the “transition conference,” a very neutral name for an awful occasion.  I am completely crestfallen.  I do understand why we had to leave, but evacuation due to security concerns was a difficult reality to swallow when I felt more safe among Nigeriens than I did anywhere in the United States.  This is not hyperbole—the Nigeriens I have been so lucky to know are the most welcoming, patient and kind people.  Yeah, yeah, I too, thought this was something they said about Niger because there was nothing else positive to say in the welcome packet, after it being the poorest country in the world, hot as an oven, sand, conservative dress, virtually no infrastructure etc.  But it is astoundingly true.  I’ll be the first to admit that I might be looking back at my too-brief time in Niger with rose-tinted glasses…now I even think it’s cute that they count money in 5’s (seriously, you actually call 100 francs “twenty” and 500 francs “one hundred” etc.) …but I guarantee that anyone you ask who has been to Niger will tell you the same about Niger’s richest asset. 

So, after I heard the news, I packed my belongings and went to the town 2k away to catch a bush taxi with my neighbor.   I had yet another thing to be regret: the fact that I would only do this bush taxi ride once.  It was a giant Land Cruiser flatbed truck with a metal cage over the bed and a metal rack on top of the cab.  I sat on the rack atop the cab with my legs dangling over the windshield, along with 12 others.  At least 25 more sat in the bed or somehow held on for dear life as we drove for two hours literally through the bush without so much as a road.  Now and then I would have to duck for branches. Mom is probably now realizing that she should have been more worried for me riding bush taxis than being kidnapped by Al Qaeda.  

So, for those of you who don’t know, we were evacuated due to the kidnapping of two French men from a bar in Niamey, Niger’s capital.  There have been kidnappings in Niger before this incident, but they occurred in the North and the US safety and security folks had drawn an invisible line that left a substantial Southern strip in the “green zone.”  This kidnapping took place right in the middle of the “green zone” at a bar that Peace Corps Volunteers frequent.  It is impossible to shut down Niamey because everything is run out of the capital.  The information available says that Al Qaeda in the Sahara are not necessarily kidnapping westerners to make a cultural statement, but to make money.  The US government does not pay ransom, so Americans are actually not targets in Niger, but I don't know if the kidnappers ask to see a passport before shoving you in the Land Cruiser.  So…although I felt safe in my little village waaaaay out in Zinder region, I do understand why this was a necessary decision for the Peace Corps.  It breaks my heart, but I understand.  It's also important to note that Niger generally loves americans, maybe the last place in the world where this is true.  I'm afraid many friends and family back home might not understand this when they hear that I was evacuated due to Al Qaeda activity.  Tell a taxi driver in Niamey that you're American and they say "ya yi kyau!"  "Great!" 

So, everyone in the Zinder region came back to the hostel and after two days we were picked up by the Peace Corps van and taken to Maradi, where we then joined those volunteers.  The following morning we continued on to Niamey and at 5 am the next morning we were on a flight to Morocco. 

So, here in Morroco, all 97 evacuated volunteers are staying in a hotel and checking out medically, doing options interviews, and tons of other technical meetings to go about closing service and preparing for whatever opportunities are available.  Tomorrow we find out just what the specific countries and the positions available are.  The possibilities are 1) direct transfer: transfer to another country immediately, don’t do pre-service training, basically an impromptu position created for we orphans in the storm.  This option is only for people whose qualifications exactly match the needs of the country.  2) Re-enrollment: close your service, go home, wait for another nomination then invitation, although we will have top priority and we can be selective about which country we want to go to.  3) Expedited Return to Service: join a new training class within the next 60 days for a new assignment for which we must likewise be exactly qualified.  We must return home as PCVs until our departure date.  All of these options definitely have their benefits and their drawbacks, but I’m hoping tomorrow’s sessions will elucidate much of our situation.

More to come…  Thank you all for the amazing support that I have received in the past few days.  This is just awful, no two ways about it.  But I feel blessed for the incredible experience I had in Niger and the amazing friends I have made.

It's Official!

Now officially sworn in as a volunteer and with pre-service training behind me, I am in the regional capital of Zinder, counting down the days before I first see my village.  The difference between trainee and volunteer must be very confusing for anyone who is not versed in Peace Corps protocol and fluent in its many acronyms, but the past 9 weeks have been spent outside of Niamey, and this is the first time any of the 10 trainees assigned to this region has seen Zinder.  We are all posted in bush villages that are 2 to 7 hours away by bush taxi from here.  We have a “hostel” in Zinder where we will meet once a month for team meetings, cooking, and hanging out.  We use these four days to replenish supplies, bank, and “be American.”  The Zinder hostel is a palace with its huge library and DVD and VHS collection, and I couldn’t be more pleased: I knew I had found my Nigérien home when the vetted volunteers greeted us newbies on our first morning with homemade bagels and pancakes. 

Zinder is a quick 15-hour bus ride from Niamey, which is best spent passed out on Benadryl.  We made the move after a swear-in celebration and sad farewells.  It will be three months until we see any of the volunteers sent to other regions.  Volunteers in Niger are strictly forbidden to ride motorcycles…unless they’re in the Zinder region, and it which case it's that or walking because there are no taxis.  I had never ridden a motorcycle, but last night I had my baptism by fire.  I was incredulous when, wearing an ankle-length wrap skirt, a backpack on my back, another pack on my front, and carrying a guitar case, I was handed a helmet and told to hop on a motorcycle with a guy who would take me to the hostel—in sha allah.  I made it with very few scratches (kidding) and now a motorcycle ride with just one bag seems like a limo ride.

I will be installed in my village via Peace Corps vehicle in 3 days.  In the meantime, I must go shopping for essentials such as stove, mattress, buckets, pots, pans, etc. and food for one month.  Of course there will be food in my market town, but not much more than basic ingredients like rice and beans.  This is like planning for a really long camping trip.  There was a volunteer who lived in my village a year ago, so there are reportedly a few pieces of furniture already in my house, as well as a dog that she “gave back to the villagers” but might just automatically come back to my house.

 Last year there was a security situation and all PCVs were consolidated.  Volunteers had to stay in their regional capitals for more than a month, but the new stage that was training at that time was whisked off to Madagascar to restart training and serve there.  So, my stage has no “sister stage” and volunteer numbers had gotten very low until we showed up--our group nearly doubles the team at Zinder.  The previous volunteers are very grateful that we are replenishing the ranks, but I must admit that it was only around week 6 when I stopped hoping to likewise be shipped off to Madagascar.  The thought of two years of tropical beaches of course still sounds, well, delightful, but Niger has found a soft spot in my heart.  It may be cold season buttering me up for the heat to come, but I like it here. 

It will be one month before I will see the internet again, so sai hunkari.  I can't wait to report back on my village.  Don’t hesitate to comment or email.  I love to see your name pop up in my inbox and I will reply!  And as always, letters letters letters!