November at Post

November 5

I left to Zinder for 5 days and the babies I know (Azizo and Abdou-Zekeiou) doubled in size in that time!

I found myself being so moved yesterday reading Jean-Paul Sartre in Abdullah’s Terminale class; yes, writers have a responsibility to their era, their society, to move when they are called to, to speak up and out, against the wicked, for the weak, to think about our common, immediate future, but not obsess about our own legacies. Don’t concern yourself with your work’s staying power, its universality; make sure it matters, here and now. That’s all. ‘Mille neuf cents ooh la la’ –Abdullah’s way of saying 1900-something. I like it.

Yesterday I was labeled a “freethinker” by Fadji, which is her ‘polite’ way of saying ‘infidel.’ “But she believes in a God” Abdullah stuck up for me, without knowing me (or that) for sure. It was an interesting exchange-a reminder that I should always be on my guard, though I did admit that wine tastes good.

For my birthday I took cookies and crackers, homemade cupcakes, salad fixin’s and a movie (Terminator 4 and Transformers 2, among other things), baby pictures of myself (courtesy of my godmother Irene), and music to my friend Majabiya’s house. Sometimes if you want a party you’ve got to throw it yourself!

November 10

Soaking my poor little cracked footsies while drinking some wine(!) and reading a New Yorker article about Steve Carell: I can’t think of a more fabulous way to celebrate the exit stage left of Paddy! I refuse to feel anything but joy in this moment-I’ll sleep outside! I’ll get a karhi (clay jar in which to keep cold water), and a mat, and landscape, and garden, and have people over! I’m elated right now.

At least one thing is crystallizing for me so far, career-wise: economics is hella important. The economics of development is what, according to Ibrahim, I should study next. He’s got a great point. Economics is everything, the confluence of all other fields, cultures, human relations; it’s the language in which we function. But reading the New Yorker article about lithium in Bolivia, and living here in Niger, I begin to question my desire to work for the Foreign Service. Would everything about it that I want be worth giving up my autonomy? How hard would it be to always be pushing and working within the confines of official US policy, as opposed to saying and acting however I felt? Politics is complicated. But working for the ‘right’ and ‘good’ is exhausting and riddled with its own contradictions and difficulties, I’m finding out.

November 13

My 18 year old friend Souleymane pointed to a cheesy postcard picture of Haystack Rock (famous Oregon Coast landmark) with a flock of birds flying up and asked if they were pigs. WHAT?!? Living in a 99.5% Muslim country will do that to you, I guess. I drew a cute little picture of a pig and showed it to him. I told them all (the guys in my ‘fada’ or ‘loose group of guys who hang out on the corner and drink tea’) how delicious pork is and how I feel bad for them that they have to miss out, but that’s religion. Sani or someone said something and Souleymane looked at me wide-eyed and asked: “Suna chin tutu?!?” (“They eat shit?!?”) For some reason this was the funniest thing I’d heard in awhile. If I accomplish nothing else over the next 2 years, I’ll at least have taught an 18 year old what a pig looks like. These are the moments I live for!

November 16

These have been 2 crazy days. Yesterday I got a fish as a present from Haoua, saw a shirt that said ‘Harley Davidson’ on the front and ‘Harry Potter’ on the back, and watched satellite TV with some pretty progressive NGO dudes. Then I hit my finger with my frying pan I was using as a hammer. Today I went for a great run, hung out at Majabiya’s, where I didn’t get henna done but where I did take a nap after watching her divide cookie crumbs into little plastic ‘bags’ (that she made by cutting small bags into 1/4s and tying them) that she will sell for 5 F CFA (≈1 cent). Or will all just be eaten by Zeinabou. COOKIE CRUMBS?!? Are you kidding me? Then I met up with Abdullah who took me to the bar in town (guess my rep was already shot the second I didn’t cover my head and wore pants, but still), where I had a Coke, thank you. We discussed religion, politics, the UN, life in my town; he’s legit. We ate dinner at his house and ‘hung out’ at a ‘party’ some of the high school students had invited him to. We sat off to the side, being the token adults while a handful of students wandered in and out, greeting us, and music was sometimes played. The least happenin’ party ever: even by Nigerien standards it was weak sauce.

So tomorrow’s the big ‘salla’ (‘holiday’: Tabaski). I’m keeping my expectations low and will be happy if I can manage to walk around and bump into a significant majority of the people who have invited me to party with them. In any case I’m sure of one thing: that this ridiculousness that is life in Niger, [me-a mess of miscommunications, over-committing, stressing about stupid shit, a complete basketcase of emotions, pissed and awkward one minute, grateful and content the next; life-hours passed in workplaces, plans beginning to be made, a schedule being decided and not adhered to but (at least ½ the time) it all working out when I let it] will continue being as amazing and exasperating as ever!