Today began like any other-rushing off to the middle/high school where I observed two of Zabeiru’s English classes. The students were some of the most cordial I’ve encountered and Zabeiru’s very excited about both of my projects on the horizon (English Club and a teacher training). Hurrying off to hopefully meet Abdou-Zakari I nearly trod on a brilliantly hued green chameleon, the first I’ve seen since being here in Niger! I know Nigeriens are scared of them but I took the meeting as an auspicious omen. I watched him for a few minutes before continuing on my way. Later all my friends laughed as I showed them how the chameleon walked and made up the ‘hawenya rawa’ (‘chameleon dance’).
Next stop: the Inspection, where the bitches had the nerve to berate me for not having visited any of them for Tabaski. I thought holidays were supposed to be relaxed and relaxing affairs with friends and family! As it was I stressed myself out and got myself sick trying to get everywhere I had promised. Now here were a bunch of harpies saying it would have been nice/good/better/proper of me to go to the Inspector’s house and all their houses too. Whatever-living in Niger is a permanent lesson in not taking things personally.
Well Abdou-Zakari wasn’t around and neither was the mayor, whom I’d decided to visit since I was out and about in the town at 11am. Things were looking grim again-it was hot and kids were screaming ‘Anasara!’ as old ladies were asking where my medicine was for them. I was walking home down streets I’d never been down before, a whole new section of ‘my’ town that I enjoyed meandering through in the generally correct direction of my house. Then I saw a goat and her tiny baby. A double take and I saw that the baby was all wet and getting placenta licked off of it by its mom. I had happened upon a 2-minute old baby goat! Indeed as I stopped to watch I noticed a girl headed into the nearest doorway to inform the owners of the birth, and soon the new arrival had a crowd around it. I was entranced, and kept exclaiming: “Barka da haihuwa! Sannu da kokari!” (‘Congratulations on the birth! Good effort!’) to the mom, and “Sannu da zuwa cikin duniya!” (‘Welcome in the world!’) to the baby. A girl was using a stick to wipe the placenta off the baby’s face, as it tried to wobble to its feet and toppled over, legs sprawled and shaking with every effort. Fascinating! Then what to our wondering eyes should appear but something slimy sticking out of momma’s butt: another one! I watched as she kicked some dirt, lay down and a second baby slid out! She bit off the umbilical cord and began licking (and eating) the placenta off noticeably smaller baby #2. ‘Life is pretty nasty, but amazing’ I thought, as the babies sneezed to clear their noses and I remembered my cousin Chad sticking his fingers up a newborn calf’s nose after my Uncle Mark had delivered it by Cesarean section, the only comparable experience I had to this miracle. Enchanted, I promised I’d be back to check on the babies. Two days later I came with camera and soap in hand (a traditional naming ceremony gift) and asked what their names were. The people thought I was crazy, as they don’t usually name their animals, but since they were both boys they said the baby goats’ names were Hassan and Ousseini, (what all twins are named in Niger).
I made my way back to familiar territory, where I sat with my fada for about an hour, and I started to learn the Arabic alphabet. After resting and reading, I headed back to the mayor’s office, via the fada to pick up my friend Souleymane and take him to visit the new babies! Then to the mayor’s, where after a long wait she said she’d introduce me on Wednesday to the leader of a Women’s Group, and then to Majabiya’s house, where it goes without saying that delicious food was eaten.
Then to my fada, where ‘stopping and saying hey’ on my way to bed turned into an hour of laughing about djinns, (who appear in the form of ‘waddas’, or dwarfs, or very tall people at 1am, but when am I ever out at that hour here?), mice (who are Issa’s friends, even though they bite him and he poisons them, which is taking a lot of liberties with the term ‘friend,’ I think), Project Runway (somehow I’ve got to arrange a screening of that for Sani the tailor) and Issa’s upcoming race for City Council (I can’t support him publicly, of course, but in my heart he’s my candidate, but if he tells anyone I’ll beat him) and Issa’s current work drama which plays like a telenovela (and who knows how much of it is true): he has the same girlfriend as the Human Resources dude at the Inspection, so he’s being exiled to a school in the bush 200 km away (he’s an Arabic teacher). No potable water, electricity or cell phone reception, the horror! First I suggested he send the man chocolate (this before I knew about the girlfriend bit). “CORRUPTION!” they all cried, asking me if I was advocating for Issa to bribe the guy. I laughed. “Chocolate isn’t money!” Which is one of those great true-but-not-exactly turns of phrase (chocolate isn’t money, but it could still be a bribe). When I discovered “love” (or at least one of the fairer sex) was involved in this tale, I encouraged Issa to challenge his foe to a duel instead. It only makes sense!
To a somewhat sour start, I couldn’t have crammed more treasured moments and laughs into a single day if I had tried. What a splendid way to start Thanksgiving Week!
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