My name here is Tamumu, which is a Tuareg name and thus very special (or so I was told). Traditionally, it is the name given to a girl who has a twin brother, but I just like it becuase it sounds like Talulah.
We were given our names at the bapteme ceremony, and there was much dancing. I'll spare you the details, but I succeeded in reminding myself that white girls cannot, in fact, dance. Afterwards, we walked to the "bar next door." The whole place consisted of a bar underneath a thatched roof, a TV, and some tables and chairs in the sand. It was pretty empty because of Ramadan, but we were still able to meet a few people and practice our French. The bar was also the site of my first experience with an African toilet (hole in the ground).
To, kalatonton!Goodbye!
I've already had one dress made with fabric from the aforementioned market, although I don't have any pictures of it yet. I haven't yet had to haggle on my own, so it's anyone's guess how much the next dress will cost. We spent a lot of time last week visiting different NGOs in Niamey, trying to figure out our community placements. I started volunteering at a school for mentally challenged kids yesterday, but I still haven't figured out where else I want to work during the semester.
Classes started on Wednesday, so I've had a few days to get into a new, post-orientation routine. Taking classes in French hasn't been too bad thusfar, but my Zarma needs work. I'll have to gather a bunch of the neighborhood kids to help me practice it.
Well, that's all for now!
P.S. Since Clarissa asked, the yogurt here doesn't taste that different from American yogurt (as far as I remember), but it's of a thinner consistancy.
My itsy-bitsy bedroom (mosquito nets included):
Is there anyplace on Earth that doesn't sell Coca Cola?
I think the yogurt speaks for itself:
There are goats everywhere; they're probably the best-fed animals in the whole country because they eat anything and everything:
We were eating lunch near at the Rec Center when this tortoise walked over. He probably just wanted our leftovers, but I convinced him to pose for a photo:
Africa:
The rooftop bar where we danced our troubles away:
Well, some people had drumming-related troubles:
This guy really wants you to use protection:
Yesterday was sweltering, a taste of the mini hot season that comes in October after the rains dry up. I think I sweated out every last drop of moisture in my body last night as I lay in bed praying for the electricity to come back on and power my ceiling fan. (Power outages are an almost daily occurence here.) It ended up raining early this morning, so today will be cooler, but it's typical for temperatures to hover around 100 F. Hotter in the aptly-named hot season.
Also, a big shout out to Hasi, who was the first in our group to get malaria! She's back from the clinic now and well on the road to recovery.
My roommate and I were walking to the store tonight, and this guy asked us if we were American. It turns out he's a huge fan of McCain. I think we found the only non-Obama fan in the country!
This past weekend was crazy, due in part to the ending of Ramadan. Went out Friday, Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday nights. Classes were canceled on Tuesday for Eid ul-Fitr (or La Fete, as everyone calls it here), but we left the CFCA at 8 AM to visit the mosque. Don't we look fetching in our headscarves?
The hotel was right by the river, and at night we could hear the hippos roaring.
The next morning, we rented a canoe and rode up beside the mighty beasts.
Then we were steered towards a nearby island village. The people there were Songhay, so I got to practice my terrible Zarma skills.
The children were absolutely adorable.
We talked to the people there for a little while, and Barke bought some millet husks for his animals. Once the word got out that he was buying, everyone in the village came running with their husks.
They pound the millet grains with a mortar and pestle to remove the husks.
After our island excursion, we visited a Fulani family who live just outside of town. The Fulani are nomadic herders, so it took us a few minutes of searching to find their camp.
The family was really nice and didn't seem to mind that we fell asleep in the sand underneath their tree. We came bearing pineapples and bananas, two fruits which they had never seen before. (Imported produce like that doesn't often make it outside of Niamey.) Then we dropped by a Bella camp before dinner for a few hours. The Bella are also nomadic herders, but they speak Tamasheq. Their culture is very reserved, so I didn't get a lot of photos.
After our visit with the Bellas, we returned to the Fulani camp for dinner and sleep. They rolled out mats for us, and we fell asleep looking at the Milky Way over our heads.
On Sunday, we were awoken by the sounds of roosters, cows, and donkeys. We ate a breakfast of fresh milk and reheated rice from the night before, and then we returned to Ayorou for the market. There was a group of adorable boys who followed us around all day. They loved posing for pictures because it meant they got to see themselves afterwards.
We drove home Sunday afternoon, tired but happy. My roommate Bukaram was so dirty that we decided to take a picture to memorialize it.
The good news is that no one was hurt, and everything that was lost is replaceable. Last night I was just angry, but I'm starting to realize that it could have been much worse. The perils of city-living, I guess.
Columbus Day weekend we were forced to participate in a softball tournament for foreigners, the comically-named NUTS (Niamey Universal Softball Tournament). A good time was had by all, though we only won one of the four games we played and were beaten by a group of school children. That same weekend, I visited a feticheur (fortune-teller/ healer) twice for a class and carried a chicken to its ritualistic slaughter. I'm usually skeptical about things like that, but the feticheur's readings for everyone were both accurate and specific. AND a second feticheur told us the same things!
After that, we took a twelve-hour bus ride to Konni to meet up with some Peace Corps volunteers. The trip was only supposed to take 6-8 hours, but we had three flat tires along the way. It was okay though; when our bus broke down next to a little village, we pulled out the iPod speakers and had a dance party with the children. Much hilarity ensued.
In Konni, we split off in groups of two to stay with PCVs in their villages. Some of the volunteers really live in the bush, but I stayed in the relative luxury of a 25,000-person town. We didn't have running water or electricity, but at least there was plenty of street food to be found. Mmm...egg sandwiches and shinkafa da waake (rice and beans).
At the end of the week, we had a less-eventful bus ride home and stopped along the way to see the last free-roaming herd of giraffes in West Africa. We were able to walk fairly close to them until a certain student, who shall remain nameless, chased them away with his bright red shirt and excessively menacing gait.
Yesterday, we modeled in a fashion show for a local designer and former Nigerien RA. Her name is Kadi Mariko and her clothes are super cute, so if you're ever in the area you should check them out. Tyra would have been proud: we were fierce!
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