Tag Archives: Peace Corps Niger

Lesotho vs. Niger

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In general I like to answer people’s questions about Lesotho and my life and work here. Whether through email or letters, I like to share my world with them and enjoy fulfilling their curiosity with anecdotes of everyday life.

Yet, there is one question I really don’t like: “Do you like it more than Niger?” Or the varied, “How does it compare to Niger?”

Yes, both countries are in Africa but they are utterly different, so is my experience. I thought maybe I would try to spell that out in a blog post, mostly for my sake.

In a few weeks I will be going to my Phase III training, the equivalent point at which my service in Niger ended. My time in both countries will then be equal but Lesotho will past that and my Peace Corps experience will be defined by time here with Niger as a side bar.

Looking back at my time in Niger compared to what I am currently living in Lesotho, it seems that this experience is much tougher. It could be I will forever look at Niger with rose-colored glasses because of how I left that country or that I feel the struggles of Lesotho because they are happening right now, but I don’t remember this many lows in those moments at site in Niger. I maybe had them but they don’t stick compared to what I feel right now.

Does that mean that I would rather leave Lesotho and go back to Niger? No. I do really enjoy it here. Lesotho is much easier on the eyes than Niger, with beautiful mountain and lush, rolling green pastures. Then desert has its own beauty but it can’t live up to this.

Despite that both countries rank high on the list of the world’s poorest, Lesotho is above and beyond Niger. For example, my school actually has classroom compared to the school in DanTchiao, which was made of sticks and thatch and the students sat on plastic bags. My students here have desks and even have a computer lab. They still don’t books and I look up most of my lessons on the Internet, the teaching conditions are much more favorable. Because the structure is better, I have the ability to do more. In DanTchiao I spent time looking for projects but here I have an actual job I go to every day and really have the potential to make a bigger impact than I ever did in Niger.

I also have electricity and better access to water. I still have to walk outside for phone calls but it’s far better than the 10-minute walk in Niger. Also, I have access to more and better foods. In my village I can buy tomatoes, potatoes, onions and cabbage or take a taxi to Maseru and get almost anything I want, including cheese. In my Niger village the only fresh food I could get was potatoes and oranges. Trips to Zinder allowed me to get a few more things but that was about six hours away compared to the two to Maseru.

Lesotho has a unique situation because of its enclosure by South Africa. Although some traditional songs and dance are present in the society, the culture has definite western influences. In Niger the culture is much more visible from the clothes to the traditional ceremonies to the trinkets and art sold on the street. Sometimes it feels like it is too western here and it doesn’t feel like Africa in the way Niger felt like Africa.

My experience and relationship with natives is also different because of the lack of language barrier. I can have deep and honest conversations with the Basotho in English that I could never have with Nigeriens because of my limited French and even less Hausa. I still can only talk with the educated members of the community because my Sesotho isn’t great, but the conversations that I do have include more of a cultural exchange than in Niger.

They are some things that are similar, such as the difficulties of transportation and the ability to get a Masotho or Nigerien to show up on time for anything. But those experiences feel very different.

Is one better than the other? No. They both mean something to me and I would never put a favorite label on them they way a mother won’t say which child she prefers the most. They are different experiences with different meaning to me and that is how I will always look at them. Niger and Lesotho will be tattooed on my heart in the same ink and stroke for the rest of my life, and although I sometimes compare the experiences in my head, it doesn’t make one better than the other.

Visitors

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This past week I had my first visitors to Lesotho: my friend Will and his two travel companions, Danielle and Rachael.

The first time I met Will was at the Philadelphia International Airport. It was July 5th. I noticed the lanky blonde because he was holding a book I knew well: The Peace Corps Handbook.

As it turns out, Will and I were two of four Peace Corps Invitees that just walked off the plane from Denver. We all happened to meet at baggage claim and took a bus to the Historic Holiday Inn in Downtown Philadelphia. Two days later, we were all on a plane to Niger.

The last time I saw Will was at the hotel in Rabat, Morocco. He was about to get on a plane, well a series of planes, to start his Peace Corps journey over in South Africa. He was worried that he didn’t have the right shoes.

When I got my invite to Lesotho, Will was one of the first I emailed; we were going to be PCV neighbors. He was ecstatic and we both made promises for a meet up or two while living in southern Africa. It was just a pipe dream, especially for me being on lockdown for what seemed like an unfair amount of months (three), until I got an email. The title: “I AM COMING!”

Will and two of his PC South Africa friends wanted to see the Kingdom in the Sky and it worked out that he knew of a place they could stay for a few days. We exchanged emails back and forth for a several weeks, making plans and giving out directions. Late Sunday, in a rented silver Volkswagen Polo, they arrived.

In between Niger and Lesotho, I was able to see a few of my Niger friends. Alex and I, both proud natives of the Rushmore State, had a brief catch up at a bar in Sioux Falls before he moved to North Carolina. Known in the Zinder hostel for his baking skills, he brought me truffles.

And last March, we had a mini-Zinder reunion at South by Southwest. Sean, Audrey and I all made the trip down and we stayed with Laura, an Austin native. (I actually went down with some other friends but I got to see this group a lot and spent a night at Laura’s). Still heartbroken in Niger, we consoled each other with good music, memory stories and plans for the next thing.

Yet, I hadn’t been reunited with anyone from my training class. Most of them direct transferred or re-enrolled quickly and were gone before any meet ups could be arranged. Also, I was in the middle of the country without transportation, so a quick trip up or down the coast wasn’t a possibility for me. I was eager to see Will, to see a piece of that life that means so much to me.
Danielle was also a PCV in Niger, but she had only been in her village eight days when we were ordered to evacuate. I wasn’t in the mood to meet many new people in Morocco so most of the new group went unknown to me. I was eager to meet Danielle and hear her perspective of life after Niger.

Also, it’s always fun to meet other PCVs and, as PCVs of the country that completely surround mine, I thought they would have some good insight.

There were only around my area for two nights but it was fabulous to share stories, compare PC Lesotho and PC South Africa and talking longingly of Niger. We spent a good chunk of the time in my house talking and cooking. I had prepared quite a bit of food and they brought sacks full of groceries so we were never hungry.

They visited one of my classes and my students were more well behaved then I have ever seen. They even paid attention and really focused on their work. After the lesson I invited the students to ask our visitors questions and, in typical Basotho fashion, they asked them to sing the national anthem. They only agreed if the students would sing Lesotho’s, which they did and it was breathtakingly beautiful as always.

Before my guests arrived, I asked the teachers if it would be OK to have the last hour of class for PCVs from South Africa to make a HIV/AIDs presentation. They agreed and we gathered all the students for a game that demonstrates how HIV/AIDs inhibits the immune system. Their presentation also talked about how ARVs can help a person and prevention.

After we took a walk in the village, exposing them to this beauty that I get to live with everyday. At one point, Will said to me, “I know you may not feel like it, but this experience is very close to Niger.” They all commented on the calm and serenity of this place I call home.

They wanted to experience a traditional Basotho meal so I asked my ‘m’e to cook papa and meroho (spinach with pumpkin) and she prepared pieces of pork that I bought at a butchery in the next village over. It was a delicious meal and my host family was delighted to have the guests. They beamed and kept saying, “We are happy.” So were we.

After we polished off a chocolate cake that I made from scratch in a dutch oven and drank the most delicious Merlot I’ve ever tasted. We talked more and then settled in for a good night’s rest. The next day they were off to explore more of the country.

The days leading up to their visit were stressful. I was so worried about getting food, cleaning my house and giving them proper directions that I completely lost the excitement for seeing my friend. But, once they got here, those things didn’t matter and what did was the ability to spend time with someone I wasn’t sure I would see again.

Their visit was nice breather for me as I end Phase II and prepare for Phase III. It was a break from daily work to actually see my village and my life for what it was. I saw my village and work through their eyes and I realized that I have a pretty darn good life here. I was blessed with a genuinely kind host family and given the opportunity to live in a gorgeous village. I have incredible students who are motivated when I stop yelling at them. My life here is very good, which I couldn’t see on my own.

Hosting others was more than just a few days of chatting and good food. It was a reminder of where I came from, where I am and where I can go. It was exactly what I needed at this point in my service, and seeing an old friend is the best type of fertilizer for the heart.

Happy International Peace Corps Day!

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Every morning I walk through a pile of horse crap to get to my latrine, which is infested with insects I can’t identify.

I barely remember the last time I took a shower or the actual color of my feet.

Last week, a drunk man passed out on me in a taxi. A day before, I was on a taxi that came to a screeching halt when the wheel and axle flew off.

At least a dozen times a day I catch someone staring at me, and not just a casual glance but a full-on, mouth-open stare that often lasts as long as I am in the persons peripheral.

A rooster wakes me up each morning and, thanks to the dozens of animals that roam my yard, my roommates are hundreds of flies.

The other day I wanted to do a track workout and shared an inside joke with myself, both signs that my sanity may have walked out the door.

Still, this is the best job I’ve ever had.

When I landed in Philadelphia for staging of my Niger service, I was filled with intense emotions. As I passed through the terminals to get to baggage claim, I came across a poster for Peace Corps. “Never start a sentence with ‘I wish I would have …’” it said. It was a sign that I was on the right path.

Despite all that I been through with Peace Corps, I’ve never been more proud to belong to an organization. The PCV behind my name means more to me than anything else I’ve accomplished in my life and it’s something no one can take from me, not even Al-Qaeda.

Within my 10 and half combined (Niger and Lesotho) months in Peace Corps, I met incredible Americans and Africans. I’ve learned three languages and how to do daily chores without the conveniences of modern technology. I’ve been more engaged with the world and myself. Mostly, I feel like I am contributing something to humanity.

It’s not easy and some days do end in tears, but I’ve never had substantial doubt that I shouldn’t be here. This is right.

Today is International Peace Corps Day and I’m blessed to be one of the lucky few to call themselves a Peace Corps Volunteers. To all of my fellow PCVs and RPCVs, you are an amazing group and I’m humbled to be included with you. You make the world better.

Peace Corps Round 2

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A year ago UPS delivered to me a thick blue envelope. Actually, UPS delivered a white and brown slip saying that I needed to pick up my package at the small warehouse on the other side of town during the only 15 minutes they are open a day. Yet, despite my fondness for the UPS, I retrieved my package. And there was that blue envelope with the words “You are invited.”

Before that day, I had no care or concern for Niger, but now my heart tugs at the word, as if a first love that I deemed the one that got a way. It’s forever imprinted in heart and that experience – the one that started a year ago with that package – will be one that I carry through life.

But it’s time to look forward.

Thursday morning, this was waiting in my email.

After two and a half months, countless trips to the doctor’s office for more signatures and lots of buttering up to my father to fax the documents, I am finally medically cleared. Alhamdulillah, or simply, thank God.

The next day, I received a phone call from a very nice and sympathetic placement officer. She commended me for still wanting to do Peace Corps after all that I have been through and said she’ll work with me to find my next placement.

As my luck has had it with re-enrollment, I am on hold right now. Congress voted to cut the Peace Corps budget, which in total is equivalent to two military planes, and now the Peace Corps is unsure of what programs will be available in the near future. When Peace Corps know what programs will continue to operate, I will get another call and, insha’allah, an invitation.

Part of my hold is because I have requested to leave after Oct. 8, the day my brother is to be married. If I wanted to leave earlier, I assume I could’ve been invited to Benin, Burkina Faso, Mali or Senegal like other Peace Corps Niger Volunteers. However, if I left this summer, because of Peace Corps rules and training, I wouldn’t be able to come home for the wedding. So, I will wait a few months to go and they are still undecided on what programs will be leaving in the second half of the year. Really, it’s only a few more months and I know I would forever regret not being at my brother’s wedding.

Good news is that my placement officer said, because I am an evacuee, I am top on the list to receive an invitation and I will be leaving shortly after Oct. 8, maybe even the next day.

We also talked about job duties and location. Because of my experience in Niger, I am now qualified for two different sectors, rather than just the one that I was invited for last May. I would like to work with HIV/AIDS awareness, but really, I am open to anything at this point.
I also indicated that I would like to return to French-speaking Africa, but my officer said this is not likely. I am not what they call a world-wide applicant, meaning there is something in my medical history that keeps me from going to certain countries (remember Namibia?) So, with my time-frame and medical exception, French-speaking Africa is not an option. There is English-speaking Africa as well as South America, Asia, the Pacific Island, the Caribbean and Central America. I could go anywhere.

My officer said she’ll have a better idea on the list of programs next week and so I should know sometime in the next month or so he location of my second attempt at Peace Corps.

Before I left for Niger, I had so many dreams about what it would be like. In Niger, I dreamt about returning home after that experience. At home, my dreams took me back. Now, I am off again.

It’s scary to think about leaving again and how the goodbyes will be just as, maybe more so, painful. It will be so different from Niger, but I am ready. I am ready to hop on this path and see where it leads.

Oceans apart

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In attempt to keep up with 28 people littered throughout the world, my stagmates and I’ve created an email list and we occasionally send each other updates on life beyond Niger.

Sometimes these emails burn. They are a reminder that we are no longer together and that we all have moved on, not by choice but by force.

There is also some bitterness that arises when I read these updates. Not with my stagmates, but with myself. Some of them are waiting to leave on their new assignments and others are already at their new posts and discovering Peace Corps in another country. A few have chosen to be done with Peace Corps but are pursing grand adventures on a different path.

Me, I’m stagnant. I’m still in transition without much guess of what lies on the other side. Because of that question mark, I feel like I am constantly looking back and trying to hold on to what I had. Memories on the hot desert hit me and I forget where I am. Was that really my life? What happened? How did I land here? Why?

I thought I was alone. But I have never been alone since the day I landed in Philadelphia. Oceans apart, my stagmates and I still yearn for that place that brought us together, that place that sprouted our family. We all hurt. We all have a hard time accepting this reality, but despite what has happened to us, we haven’t lost the power that binds us. From India to Rwanda to Costa Rico, words on a screen become hugs. The support and love is still there, maybe even more so now.

We realize that we must go on. As one said “All I know is I miss you guys and although I would literally give all this poshness up to be back there like we were … I know I have to be here and now, and give this moment all I can.”

I miss them and their and Niger’s presence in my life is eternal. But I owe the present all of me. I am meant to be here and I can’t discredit that.

I didn’t get what I expected out of my Peace Corps experience, but I got more than I deserved — the friendship of some pretty incredible individuals. For that, it was all worth it.