Tears

This is the oldest person in the village. Her name is Tunno, and she walks around every morning before the sun heats everything up. I didn't see her once for my first year, and only heard stories about "Tunno, the 130 year-old dawn-walking woman". Finally I met her- Ayuba, pictured here with her, ran to get me one morning when she made it to our side of town.

She told me that she doesn't see very well, and that it's because of all of the tears she has cried for all of her friends and her family who have died.

That made me sad and heavy, but then Ayuba promised to buy her some sandals, so she wouldn't have to be barefoot anymore, and that cheered both her and me up.

Weeding

Now that planting is mostly over, we are moving on to weeding. In some ways I think this work, while back-breaking, is also a blessing. It means that the rain was enough to get the millet to grow, and likewise the weeds are popping up. It's not like weeding at home, where you sit or crouch and pull on stems (which is also hard work, absolutely!) It's done with another hoe-like tool, which has a more curved end. You tackle the rows head on, and hack and chop madly through the dirt, uncovering everything except what you planted, which gets to stand proudly, all tufty and green. It's quite a show- muscular, sweaty, full-of-motion men and women bent over and pushing their way through the greengreengreen.

Salla and Shaibou on the first day of weeding; Narba is going out to greet them

It will take a month to weed one of Narba's fields- maybe that gives you an idea of how big the fields are, and how slow the work goes. We'll be more split up for this work- we may be at different fields, or in far apart sections of the same ones. But some days we'll be together. Salla, Shaibou, and Badaru will head out before sunrise, and Mariama, Rasida, Sadiya and I will follow with food mid-morning. Zuera will stay at home with her new baby, Minaya. The little kids- Kadir, Oweli, Rahman, and Rabi- will chase each other around in the shade and step on thorns, then holler for one of us to come pick them out. Narba will go where she pleases, and when she comes near me she will insist that I rest, which I will refuse to do.

Working with everyone in the fields has been a strong reminder of how much I have learned in the last year. To understand how and when and why people do the work that they do- I am getting there! I am learning what is necessary, what is extra, what isn't quite enough to live.

Last year, I couldn't quite follow the beat- I felt like a pale little rock in a dark stream of very busy, beautiful, moving people. This year, I have a family and a place. Now, I guess you could say that the current has lifted me up. Sometimes I fight it, but I live for the moments when I realize I'm moving with it.

Planting

Rain

6/30/09

We got our first big rains two weeks ago, signifying a sudden shift in the daily rhythm that had been more or less constant since last fall. Everything changes with the rain. Once a big enough storm has passed- meaning the ground is soaked enough that a hole dug with your foot is damp at the bottom- men, women, kids, everybody, vacate the village for the fields.

Issa, Lahadi's son, with a sari (planting tool)

The strongest ones have the job of "sari": walking out ahead with a long, heavy hoe-type tool that they strike into the ground with every step, creating holes with small mounds of dug-out sand next to them. They make row upon row of these holes, which from a distance look like expansive, linear colonies of molehills.

Mariama, planting in the distance

Following behind the Mai saris (those who do the "sari" job) come the Masu taki (those who plant). These guys- usually women and kids- hold a bowl or calabash of millet seeds in the crook of their left arm, and walk along the rows, using their right hand to drop seeds into the holes, and their right foot to push sand back over the seeds. The best, quickest planters move so smoothly that you don't even notice they are planting; they simply look like they are strolling through the field, waving their hand over the dips in the earth. It looks and feels like dancing.

There is a rush to do as much planting as possible before the soil dries out, so families spend all day every day out in the fields, working hard to get all of their millet, sorghum, beans, sesame, and peanuts in the ground. Millet is the priority; once an entire field is planted in millet, people will go back and plant the other crops in the spaces between.

We got in four full days of planting after our last good rain, enough to plant all of Narba's family's fields with millet and one of them with beans and sorghum as well. When it rains again, we'll plant the rest. It's hard work, but I really like it. I like how it brings women and men together, and how it gives everyone a common purpose in a common space. There's an etiquette to it, too- you plant in pairs if you can, so you always have a companion planting the row next to yours. Even though I was slower at first, Mariama and Rasida always, always waited for me. They'd either slow down, or double back and plant the rest of my row for me, meeting me in the middle. We talked and sang songs, and time was irrelevant.

Movie time: Early morning bush taxi ride

Let me make sure this is clear: I hate riding in bush taxis. They are dangerous and they are uncomfortable. However, we don't have other choices, most of the time. So here's a video from the back of one. Don't be misled by the seeming lack of people in the back of this truck- I have never, ever seen such an empty truck here! Chalk it up to the early hour and the direction we were going-- away from a market town. The road was pretty clear, and we felt relatively safe, so I relaxed and enjoyed the wind. And so did Meaghan.

OK, this is a more sedate ride; actually we're still loading up:

Alvin Ailey in Konni

An email sent from the new internet cafe in Konni, March 17:

Made it in 4 1/2 hours this morning...not too bad, but about 1 1/2 hours longer than my record. Last time, this trip took me 6 hours...that was a long day! You just never know. The bush taxi drivers can go wherever they want and stay there for as long as they want. I'm getting better at just sitting tight and staring into space.

Shoe vendor in Konni

Hadiza came in with the three other young girls who are going to the Maradi conference this morning; they left from Tajae with the volunteer there. I met up with them and took them all around on a mini-tour of Konni. It's pretty cool when you realize this is their first time in the city, ever. They look, suddenly, really, really young and out of place. I'm going to have to be a good chaperone this week and make sure they're comfortable. I took them out to lunch; there's a lady on the corner who makes great rice and sauce. Then we walked down to the post office, which is towards the end of this very busy road, so the girls got an eyeful of vendors selling everything from oranges to bottles of gasoline, motorcycles galore, and as much pavement as they've ever seen. I am pretty confident that none of them had ever been in a car until today...can you imagine what this must all be like? At the post office, the three ladies working there chatted us up for a long time and helped put the girls at ease; when all of the bureaucratic stuff was over (you have to get all of these slips stamped and signed and then pay for it all to get packages), the girls were allowed to go in the back and help me pick up my mail. I have packages galore!!!! THANKS FAMILY!
Next, we headed to the new (and only) internet place in Konni, because I wanted to show them how that works. Not that I can explain it in English, but I had to try! I said it's basically like a really smart cellphone, which they know about, but bigger. So picture this: me and four sweet young girls sitting in a white room around an old gray PC, me trying to explain the Internet in my childish Hausa as the Google homepage loads... And what to show them?! I decided to look up a video of the Alvin Ailey Dance company. It was beautiful, even without the sound....and that's all we did; it occurred to me that with all the world at our fingertips, perhaps we should proceed with caution and deal with reality first.
So then we came back, and I let them pick which package to open together, and they chose Aunt Carol's. Young girls of Niger, meet Teddy Grahams! Thank you Carol!! We loved the photos (and yes you know EXACTLY which one is my favorite), and I devoured the letters later, by myself.

Tomorrow we'll get on a bus to Maradi, where for the next four days the girls will attend a conference for Young Girl Scholars. I saw the agenda- it looks good. Sessions are on a range of topics- everything from health to school to careers. The objective is to give these girls a look at what's out there, if one day they're able to and interested in making a life beyond the village.

Girls' education

Hadiza's primary school

As for my role as her sponsor PCV, I will visit Hadiza at least monthly, help arrange a tutor, bring her a stipend each month, and start a journal/semi-biography with her. I am so curious to know her and to know what she thinks and feels and needs...I think it may take months before she will be comfortable being totally open with me. Now she treats me like quite an authority figure and probably would say whatever she thinks I want to hear.

I know, I know, education is one of the first steps to self liberation, development, women's rights; I'm not about to make a case against educating anyone: knowledge is power. But consider and recognize that the process, the logistics, even, of becoming educated in this country, especially for a female, are very very formidable. Hadiza has to leave home, alone; she's the only girl to do so; all of her girlfriends will stay in the village and continue their lives as usual. She has to adjust to a new village, family, and school. She'd have to be pretty enlightened already to be content with this situation: who at 13 is happy to leave their peer group? So there is that. Then consider the Nigerien school system: a French system, with all courses taught in French (not the language used in homes or anywhere else in the villages), where memorization and recitation are all you do, and critical/independent thinking and creativity aren't fostered. Corporal punishment is the primary form of discipline, not just for misbehavior, but also as a means of academic correction.

Now consider the long term social implications for an educated female in this country, where most women marry as girls, at age 16-18. Hadiza, if she succeeds amidst the challenges mentioned above, will have to face the stigma that educated women are less desirable as wives--the assumption being that they are too independent (willful and also financially independent), too strong-minded/stubborn/assertive, and too old to marry: all unattractive qualities to many Nigerien men.

Even as there are national campaigns to promote girls' education, there is not a "place," a culturally and socially appropriate, desirable place, for educated adult women. That takes time. An educated, open-minded Nigerien male friend of mine told me that in a recent TV campaign for girls' ed, several female "role models" were presented as examples of what you can become if you, too, go to school:
1. A pop singer (who dresses like a westerner, and therefore looks totally unpresentable and slutty.)
2. A teacher (unmarried, living at home with parents)
3. A woman with a high-powered government job (divorced, living at home with her parents)
So, as much as the ad was supposed to show "successful" educated women, it actually just reinforced the stereotype that educated women are unmarriageable, inappropriate, burdensome drains on their parents. So. In Niger, marriage is a huge rite of passage, celebrated as much or more as any holiday, and 1/2 of the ultimate achievement a woman can possibly make: having lots of babies.

I think maybe I've made my point...just that getting girls in school is tough, keeping them there is tough, and showing them that it is going to improve their lives is tough--and in the view of many, not even true.

Exode and HIV/AIDS

85% of the village's men leave after the growing season to find work in other countries; most of them return in May. Meanwhile, women do much of the harvesting work, and stay behind with the children.

10/21/08
I'm sitting in the PC Medical Officer's presentation about HIV/AIDS in Niger; he's listing off a bunch of grave statistics about rates among nationals and volunteers. The official reported AIDS rate in Niger is 1.8%, but it is almost certainly higher...hard to know because it's taboo to talk about. I assume that many young men contract HIV during exode--the 3-9 months per year when they leave the villages to seek employment in wealthier countries. It's not even just young men; really it's anyone who sleeps with a prostitute during that long time away. Then the men come home and infect their wives.

Although I haven't heard any talk of HIV/AIDS in my village, I did recently have a pretty candid conversation about prostitution. Some male villagers and I were talking about the pros and cons of going on exode; I had asked a bunch of questions, like "Do men look forward to exode? Do they prefer to be away, or to be at home in the village? Why do some men stay away longer than others? What do people think of men who stay away for so long?" The guys I was talking with--Ibrahim, Idi, Issiah, and a few other older men--seemed pleased to talk about everything. They said that they enjoy exode because there are so many more amenities than in the village. Usually they are in big cities in Nigeria, Ghana, Bukina Faso, etc., so they have access to electricity (fans, refrigerators, good food). They laughed when I asked them if being away was more the "good life" than in the village: "Of course it is!" And at that, I took a little offense, "But what about leaving your family?" To which they said that yes, it's hard to be away from their wives and children, but that everyone likes to get $$ in the village, and it's only natural to leave once farming season ends and to return before it begins again the next year.

While they're away, they accept any kind of work: construction, cement, selling trinkets on the street. They send cash home with friends, and when they come back they also bring new clothes for everyone in their extended family. For many--if not most--families, this is the only source of monetary income: $ made by the men in the family while they are on exode. Guys from ages 18 to 40 or 50 seem to go; I'm told that by December, 85% of the men will have left my village, not to return till around May. Some men leave for much longer, a full year or two, depending on where they go, and whether there are other men who can help them farm their fields in their absence. When I asked about this, the opinion of men who leave home for so long, the topic of prostitution suddenly came up. Ibrahim explained that in some cases, men who haven't been able to make/and/or save much money on exode won't come home because they have nothing to show for their work. He then added that often, these men spend the money they made on prostitutes, and just never end up coming back. I was surprised to hear him bring that up; it wasn't a big deal, I guess, to mention. He emphasized that this behavior is Bad, and the other old guys agreed, although they did so jokingly, kind of in the same way that people joke about men who visit prostitutes in the states.

I don't really know how many of the 85% of men who leave my village for work this year will visit prostitutes. Or how many of them will use condoms, or how many of the prostitutes have HIV/AIDS, or how many of the men will contract HIV/AIDS. All of the possible numbers are frightening, but none of them upsets me more than the number of wives who could be infected as a result of their husbands' careless behavior. The thought of women, mothers, who work year-round in a hot, harsh, unforgiving climate, who take care of half a dozen kids all day, who get no break from the village life even once in their lifetimes, the thought of them being infected with HIV/AIDS and never knowing it, but eventually dying from it and seeing their children die from it...it's a cruel, unjust, infuriating possibility.

I don't know who or how many people in my village have HIV/AIDS, but I assume it's present...and let me be clear...that even as I assume it is present, I also assume that the men who become infected do so ignorantly; this is not a story about evil husbands vs. angelic wives. It is about people engaging in risky behavior, of which the consequences are unknown, or distant, or misunderstood.

Not a rabbit

9/2/08
Five boys, about age 7, are over to look at books. (I got these in care packages...there are otherwise no picture books in the village.) The boys' names are Turjani, Malaru, Halilu, Ousman, and Alhassan. Their banter is just terrific. I gave them each a book to look at and here's what they are saying:

"THIS DOG ONLY HAS 3 LEGS!"
"That's a lion! It has 4 legs, but we can't see one of them." (Darn 2-dimension.)
"YOU SURE?"
"Pretty sure, but even if he's just got 3 legs, he looks pretty happy."

"WHAT'S THIS, SAMSIYE? WHAT'S THIS?"
"That's a rat."
"SAMSIYE, WHAT'S THIS?"
"That's a rat."
"SAMSIYE, WHAT'S THIS?'
"That's also a rat."
[Can you tell what book he was looking at? (Your Friend the Rat)]

"HEY LOOK, A BIRD!! IT'S HUGE!!"
"That's not a bird, actually. It's kind of like a fish because it lives in the ocean! But it's also like a cow because it has breasts and feeds milk to its babies." (Glad I paid attention in science class...it was a photo of a seal...)
The response: silence. Awe? Or disbelief?

"HEY SAMSIYE, SAMSIYE, WHAT IS THIS?"
"That's a rabbit!"
"NO WAY, THAT IS NOT A RABBIT!"
"Yeah, it is! Why isn't it a rabbit?"
"Because it's STANDING UP, and everybody KNOWS rabbits run on the ground!"
"Well, yeah...but it's supposed to be a rabbit."
"But it's wearing PANTS! IT'S NOT A RABBIT!"
"OK, then what is it?"
"I dunno."
(This was a Richard Scarry book.)

Millet, moringa, neem, baobab, veggie starts

Baobab seedling

8/7/08
For several weeks now--months, even--I've been prepping areas around my hut for gardens. It's really gratifying to see what was just solid, heat-baked clay and sand be transformed into something that more closely resembles soil! After chopping at the slate-like plots with every tool available (village-made hoe/ax and big sticks), I mixed in manure that my neighbors gave me. They watched with great amusement as I shoveled their goats', cows', sheep's, and donkeys' poop into my big "I Love Africa" bucket. Since then I have been adding water and millet chaff. And now: I have four garden beds! With plantable soil! Well wait, "plantable soil" does not make sense , but you get it, right? And in the meantime, the tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, and collards that I seeded are close to ready for planting.

I should clarify what I wrote about my neighbors: while at first they were just amused about my garden project, they quickly saw I was earnest about it and helped me collect and carry everything home! Ibrahim asks about it every day, and my women neighbors Lahadi, Abu, and A'i are ever-curious. This morning I was hacking away at a new bed when Karima, an influential village lady who sells odds and ends and goro (kola nut) from her home, and Aoma'u came by with Narba. Narba was so funny. She led them all around my concession, showing off all of the work I've done: my two meager rows of millet (now almost as tall as me!), the moringa, neem, and baobab trees, the beds I've dug, and the little veggie starts. I was dripping with sweat and covered in sand and goat poop, and even goat fur, but I stood there proudly as Narba clucked away.

Mature baobab tree
Photo by Brett

Beloved

Narba and granddaughter Harira

In Niger, a typical woman has less than three years of education, and the life expectancy of a girl born today is only 45. Only four per cent of Nigerien women use modern contraception, and one child in four never reaches the age of 5. At this rate, every mother is likely to suffer the loss of a child during her lifetime. Source: CBC News

6/10/08

Lately I've really been appreciating the evenings. It's a time when more people are gathered at home, talking or sitting or eating (women with the kids, men separate, of course). I find myself staying out a little later each evening, picking up strands of conversation, contributing some, mostly listening, laughing at the kids, whose antics--in the dirt and ash and whatever they can roll their naked little bellies in--are often the focus of our attention. Children are so precious here. I don't know why I was surprised to see the tenderness with which Narba treats every one of her grandkids, great grandkids, and neighbors' kids. Maybe because there are SO MANY babies, kids, everywhere, 4,5,6,7,8 per woman, as many as 10,20,30 per husband if he has several wives; maybe I assumed that they were somehow less special, less treasured in the eyes of old women, who in their lives have held hundreds of babies. But it is not that way; it is the opposite, and it squashed my assumptions absolutely. To see Narba goyo (tie to her back) her daughter-in-law's baby, Harira, of 4 months, and carry her all over the village proudly, is seeing a happy woman doing what she has done since she was a girl herself.

I will often come upon Narba at her home, sitting on a mat in the shade, with a half dozen of her family's babes napping or crawling or playing around her--and Narba is totally into it, singing for them or clapping or chuckling. Last night Rabi had batteries for a radio, so we listened to some afro pop, and immediately a crowd of bouncing toddlers was gleefully stomping in the dust...Narba, delighted, rushed to get her flashlight to shine on them in the dark. Together we watched them, their brown legs and arms, pumping, kicking, bottoms falling into the sand, turning them a lighter brown. They were so funny. But mostly I watched Narba, who had eyes only for them; she clucked and sang and held that light over them, exclaiming "Toh! Gareka! Toh!" (Hey! Yo! You got it! Yeah!))

So, you see, these babies, all gazillion of them, they are beloved. And it's not just Narba, it's everyone, all of the women who dote on every baby, the men who hold friends' babies in the afternoon, and the kids, who as soon as they're big enough, hope to carry a baby around, too.

Me in my village, and kids in Hamdallaye

A walk with Amu

So. OK. I went out with Amu to their fields, which were northwest of town along a path I hadn't been on yet. It climbed gently for awhile, and I got a good long gulp-of-a-view of the farms and villages spreading out south of us. Ahead and behind and on other paths in all directions were other women, chatting and laughing and hauling their loads--babies, food, water--towards their men and their fields. It was like being in a painting where everything is green except a wide stripe of blue at the top and bright dashes of red, yellow, pink, and brown all throughout.
When we reached our fields, the men came and sat with us, and we had a lively conversation about the delicacies of fried crickets. Amu's baby daughter, Saphara'u, played in the sand, the men drank hura, and I learned the word for "crunchy"(kamaskamas). Then, Amu and I returned to the village, a nice 40 minute walk, as colorful and chatty as the one out.

Current food situation in Niger: the official word

The map below (from AID sources) illustrates some of the text beneath it (info recently sent to Peace Corps volunteers). 700,000 people may need food aid this year (see #7), which makes it a good year; last year the figure was 2.9 million people in need of aid.
Points #4, #9, #10, and #11 seem especially worrisome.

Estimated food security conditions, 3rd Quarter 2008 (July-September)
US AID /Famine Early Warning Systems

Green: Generally Food Secure
Yellow: Moderately Food Insecure
Orange Highly Food Insecure
Red: Extremely Food Insecure
Black: Famine
Gray: No Data

NIGER FOOD SITUATION LOOKS GOOD, BUT NUTRITIONAL ISSUES PERSIST

1. Summary. All signs indicate that Niger will have a bumper annual harvest of major food staples in September-October 2008,representing an unprecedented fourth consecutive good annual harvest for Niger. Pasture conditions are excellent and no major outbreaks of crop pests have been reported. Crop conditions in Nigeria and other countries in the sub-region also appear to be favorable; therefore, added pressures on Niger food stocks will be minimal.
Niger will not need any emergency food aid over the coming year, but will need help to reconstitute its national food reserves and to continue programs to address food needs of vulnerable groups and chronic child malnutrition. There will also be a need to address the problem of insufficient imported rice for urban consumers.

2. The rainy season has generally been exceptional and, even if rains stopped now, there is enough moisture in the soil in most areas to permit a good harvest of the major food staples (millet, sorghum and cowpeas). If like last year the rains cease in mid-September, the harvest will still be better than the good 2007 harvest. If like in 2006 the rains continue into early October, Niger could have a record harvest. On the other hand, too much rain and continued heavy rainfall will make it difficult to harvest. Already the harvest of millet and sorghum is occurring in a number of places across Niger.

3. Flooding in some areas has caused some crop damage and, as of the end August 2008, the loss of shelter for almost 40,000 people. Pasture conditions throughout Niger are reported as excellent without any major outbreak of crop pests. Niger appears to be on the path to a fourth consecutive good annual harvest. This may be the first time in modern history that Niger has enjoyed four good annual harvests in a row. These good harvests and livestock conditions will make life better for rural inhabitants (85 percent of the population), contribute positively to Niger's GDP growth, and reduce budgetary and political stress on the Government of Niger (GON). Furthermore, full household granaries are the best insurance for the maintenance of peace and stability in the rural zones.

4. The food situation of urban inhabitants, who depend heavily on the consumption of imported rice, is, however, worrisome. The cost of imported rice on the open market is at a record high and stocks of rice are at an all-time low. The GON tried to procure on the international market 10,000 megatons (MT) of rice but was only able to obtain 3,000 MT, which it is selling at a subsidized price (35 percent less than market price) during the holy month of Ramadan that began September 1. Given that Niger consumes about 20,000 MT of rice per month, this is a relatively small quantity of rice. It is an open and troublesome question as to how Niger will obtain enough rice in the coming months to feed its urban population.

5. Related to this rice shortage problem was the receipt on July 21 of an official request from the GON for 60,000 MT of rice and 15,000 MT of wheat over a three-year period, beginning this year. This request was made within the framework of the USDA's Food for Progress program. This request follows the signing of an agreement in September 2006 for the same kind of program. Under this previous Food for Progress program, 12,000 MT of sorghum and 5,000 MT of rice (for monetization) were provided. The 12,000 MT of sorghum was used over the past few months for free distribution to the most vulnerable groups. The 5,000 MT of rice was sold to private traders over a year ago and the proceeds generated are being used for food security activities. Concerned GON authorities will need to satisfy some outstanding reporting and accountability requirements for USDA before tackling another USDA program.

6. It was planned that some rice be provided by the end of the year under three new PL 480, Title II Multi-Year Assistance Programs (MYAPs) that USAID signed in August 2008 with participating U.S. non-governmental organizations. These three- to five-year MYAPs have an estimated value of over US$70 million and cover all regions
of Niger. The main commodity to be monetized under the MYAPs is rice and 7,000 to 9,000 MT of rice were to be shipped to Niger by December, but the first effort to procure rice was has not been successful as not enough rice could be sourced. It is still uncertain when rice will be available for these MYAPs and, when sourced, how much can be procured with existing budgets. Higher rice prices will mean lower quantities of rice for the MYAP programs and it may be some time before FY 2009 funding is available for these programs.

7. Notwithstanding the favorable prospects for good annual harvest in Niger, there remain pockets of low rainfall in Niger and agricultural production growth has difficulty keeping up with Niger's fast annual population growth rate of 3.4 percent (or about 400,000 additional people per year to feed). Niger is reaching the limits of the quantity of food it can produce and in the future, even in a good rainfall year, it will not be able to produce enough to feed its population. Current projections show that up to 700,000 Nigeriens (about 5 percent of Niger's 14 million people) will need food aid to one degree or another over the coming year because of poor harvests in some geographic areas. Nevertheless, this is a huge improvement over last year when 2.9 million people were estimated to be in need of food aid.

8. As of August 27, 2008, Niger's national food reserves contained about 40,000 MT of cereals (down from 77,000 MT last February). If current reserve utilization plans are adhered to, this total stock level will fall to about 3,000 MT by the end of September. In the July to September period, 15,000 MT has been utilized by the GON, with donor concurrence, for free distribution to food vulnerable groups and 15,000 for sale at subsidized prices to those in need. The GON goal is to have 100,000 MT in stock in case of poor annual harvest and, thus, its plan is to begin local purchases of cereals
in October following the harvest to reconstitute its food reserves. It plans to buy on the local market 20,000 MT to 30,000 MT of millet and sorghum in the October 2008 to March 2009 period. Currently, the GON does not have sufficient funds to make these purchases and it will be calling for donor contributions for as much as US$12 million in additional funding for these purchases. These reserves are small compared to Niger's cereals consumption rate of 220,000 MT per month.

9. Niger's child malnutrition levels remains among the worst in the world in spite of four good annual harvests in a row. Niger’s low child nutrition levels are not unrelated to a persistent high poverty levels and a consistent rank among the lowest five countries on the UNDP human development index (HDI). Child feeding practices, including breast-feeding, and dietary diversification need much improvement. A challenge to progress in these areas is low female literacy rate of less than 15 percent.

10. Other sobering development statistics for Niger include facts such as 40 percent of its children are stunted and almost 70 percent of the population is less than 25 years of age. The youthful structure of Niger's population and its fast population growth rate represent daunting development challenges. The population growth rate is out-stripping advances in economic and development growth and will not change unless the high average fertility rate of 7.4 children per woman of child-bearing age is substantially lowered.

11. Nutritional surveys led by UNICEF in the June-July period indicate some slight improvements in child nutrition levels among children under five years of age, but global acute malnutrition (GAM) remains alarmingly high by international standards and in this recent survey the overall average GAM reported was 10.7 percent (versus 11.2 percent a year ago). Extrapolation of survey data indicates that over 260,000 children of this age group suffer from much higher levels of malnutrition. Most alarming are survey results for the Region of Zinder that show an emergency level GAM rate of 15.7 percent. The survey also reports GAM rates much higher for children under three years of age. Also, in the regions of Diffa and Zinder the child mortality rate was over the emergency rate of 2 deaths per 10,000 children per day. This survey also reported that only 4.4 percent of mothers are exclusively breast-feeding their babies during the first six months.

12. Comment. Nothing can be better for Niger and its people than a good harvest, but a good harvest alone does not eliminate hunger and malnutrition nor develop over the long term a country. Much investment is needed in Niger's rural infrastructure and agricultural sector to achieve the food production and household income increases Niger needs to feed its people and to improve its rank on the UNDP HDI list. Investment in irrigation schemes that make Niger more drought proof and less dependent on rainfed agriculture is essential. At the same time more diversified ways of creating wealth need to be found to benefit a much larger segment of the population. As long as the vast majority of Nigeriens remain dependent on subsistence agriculture, sustainable development advances will remain elusive. The main
development aims should target less hunger and higher incomes. High levels of good governance, technical competency, managerial capacity and stability are needed to achieve those aims. ##

Niamey, September 3, 2008

For an update on this post, go here.

Birds

Geese flying over Nigeria, not far from the Konni region of Niger
Photo by P. Taylor

Other signs that the rains have come: birds! Small flocks of little red and brown finch-like songbirds flush out of my pigeons' house when I pass; they are in there drinking water and being merry. There are also flocks of geese-like birds that fly overhead: in vees! I can hear their wings, whoosh, whoosh, and I love to look up at them. The sky here is so bright and searingly light that I don't look up that often. But I do for the birds.

Mornings

I sleep outside, underneath a yellow mosquito net, on top of a foam mattress, on top of a bed made out of millet stalks, on top of clay bricks made from the bottom of a nearby seasonal lake. I wake up around 6 most mornings—I think it’s often a combination of the light and the morning sounds that start around that time (women pounding millet or talking at the well). Other, earlier morning sounds—the 5am prayer call, roosters, cows, goats, sheep, donkeys, etc.—wake me up too, but not as decisively as sunlight.
I usually spend about thirty minutes lying there, coming alive, reminding myself where I am, and thanking God/Allah/Goddess/Whoever Invented Water Filters for getting me through another night without sickness. Seriously, every morning that I wake up healthy, I feel extremely grateful. That is one thing—health—that is on my mind much more often than ever before. This is no place to be sick, not for anyone.

Wiped out

We're all feeling wiped out. The heat is continuing to inch its way into every aspect of living. Example #1: the water. I carry a nalgene around with me all of the time, and starting last week, I am unable to prevent the water from getting HOT. The bucket of water I bathe with, that sits outside, is still so hot at 8 PM (when it is dark) that I'm guessing most people would cool it if they were able to. Example #2: involves water, again. I can soak my t shirt in water (hot, of course--see #1), walk outside, and in under five minutes it is completely dry. It's no wonder I am thirsty all the time. The following simile comes to you courtesy of Angie, a PC trainee neighbor: Water is evaporating off of me like conservatives exiting a Marilyn Manson concert...

A lack of wind

Dry season in the desert

2/23/08
The last week has flown by. It has been exceptionally windy. I think the heat is becoming less of a shock/surprise. The other day it was 98 at around 1:30 PM, but it didn't feel unbearably hot because of the wind. I guess the killer thing about hot season is the lack of wind. I've heard that it's much too hot to sleep, so people end up just staying awake talking all night.
The year here is divided into two main seasons: Locacin Rani and Locasin Damana (Dry Season and Rainy Season). Dry Season goes from November-ish to May-ish, and it has two different personalities. November to February are dry and windy, and night here is cold (really!). March to May is HOT and is also called bazazara, or something hot-sounding. Rainy season is June-October, and I guess it is nice and green in most places, although often the first rains don't come until July or even August. There is harvest season in there, too, right after the rains stop.

The heat is creeping in

2/10/08
The heat is creeping in! It started a week ago exactly. At first we all just thought "oh today is a hot day, " with the expectation that the next day would be cool again. Alas, that is not how it works. The heat comes on a little more each day. This week it was 82 in the shade at 10:00 AM. Soon it will be too warm in my hut at night and I'll move back outside, where surely sleep will evade me (noise+heat=recipe for insomnia!) Or, maybe not. Maybe the next two years will be Niger's most temperate!
I am delighted to report that at this junction in time, I am healthy, and even though the heat is tiring, I have returned to myself again. It took awhile to recover from my double-whammy sicknesses. It hit me yesterday that I finally understand why so much emphasis is placed on health and wellness in the daily greetings of this country. The long string of greetings that we run through with everyone is mostly an oratory on one's health and the health of one's family. I understand now that it's not at all a coincidence, but that people here ask about health because it's really IMPORTANT. And it's much harder to recover from anything.

Here is how we eat.

There is a very large platter; we sit around it and eat with our right hands. Kids eat separately, on the sand, out of a big bowl on the ground. Haoua and I, or Aissa and I eat together, sitting on a mat. Most meals are rice with a sauce over it: tomato, onion, garlic, spices, sometimes with a couple of chunks of meat. A few nights a week Arziza (the dad) brings home what looks like a large rat, which they set on the fire: fur and tail and head and all, then roast it. They don't let me eat it, for which I am ever grateful.