A Peaceful Country of Peace Corpsers

Niger was such a peaceful respite from Nigeria, abundantly supplied with things like running water, electricity, restaurants, and the largest contingent of the Peace Corps that I have ever seen, that I confess I got lazy here and didn't write a word. At the end of a week in the place, though, I suppose I should have something to say for myself...

Scenery: Niger is defined in the south by the Sahel, the cultural and geographical barrier between the fertile coastal region and the vast expanse of the Sahara to the north. I was amazed at how dry the climate suddenly became; I'm nowhere near the 'prophet of water' that David and my sister are, but at 10 a.m. my full 1.5L water bottle was suddenly empty and the last swig left me desperate to find more. I forget what we were looking for at the time - a mosque, a bank, a bus station - which doesn't surprise me - but all I could think about was where to find more water. Eventually we began to buy our water by the 1.5L-six-pack, and easily went through a set in hours.

People: Nigeriens would be thrilled to hear that I found them very distinct in personality from Nigerians (I was rigorously trained in the difference of prononciation and articulation of one letter), but privately the distinction was not wholly in their favor. While more classy, professional, and reliable than their southern neighbors, Nigeriens were also a touch more aloof and prickly, and definitely less quick to laugh. While getting scammed or screwed was less likely, when we did, it was not with the classic Nigerian laughs-all-around attitude. Nigerians are a tough act to follow, however, and I still very much enjoyed the company of the laidback and helpful Nigeriens I came to know.

Food: Given all the expats, we ate fairly well in Niger.. though you do have to pay expat prices for it. Still not sure what "Nigérien" food is, but they have definitely mastered the art of international cuisine and we ate like kings. (But grimly aware as we were that we'd be heading back to Nigeria and the land of no-restautants all too soon, perhaps 'pigs' is a better metaphor.)
Best eaten: a difficult toss-up between a delicious sautéed pasta in Zinder, and an equally delicious goat cheese-and-emmental pizza in Niamey.
Worst eaten: Not since Somaliland have I noticed abundant sand in my food... I had somehow forgotten the sensation without ever missing it.

Most Shocking Expense: A brilliant hack in our adept State Department, for motivations of his/her own I can't begin to guess, wrangled a reciprocal agreement with Niger in which citizens of either country automatically get year-long single-entry visas upon application. Aside the interesting brainstorm to discover what anyone would do with a year in Niger (during which they could never leave), the price of friendship has definitely been passed on to American tourists. While citizens from most other countries can pay the usual $30-100 for a regular, short-term tourist visa, lucky American buddies are charged a staggering $180 a pop for the privilege of entering the country once.

Best Eye Candy: Who knew Touareg men were so beautiful?? Striking, chiselled features with inexpressible grace... I had to remind myself not to ogle.

New Words: I should hang my head for this, but despite it being a huge regional language of both Niger and northern Nigeria, I didn't learn a single word of Hausa except "egg". (And this only because I wanted one while trapped on a bus at a check-point, and bellowing the French equivalent out the window at the egg-sellers outside got me nowhere.)

Quote: Most memorable among the things Nigeriens said to me are probably the repeated efforts to highlight that Niger and Nigeria have little outside a border (and almost a name) in common. It must drive them up the wall to find such dangerous blurring between Nigerians and Nigeriens... "yes, just one letter," they concede to me, "but a world of difference."

New Hygienic Lows: To travel is to live a losing battle with one's nail-dirt, that benign phenomenon that so effectively destroys the impression of having clean, just-washed hands. My only strategy since the Sudan has been to cut my nails down to the nubbin in hopes of minimizing the area vulnerable to a problem I can't eliminate. Short nails, however, render much poorer service in opening plastic-sealed water bottles (a frequent task), or scratching mosquito bites (even more so). Worse, they still manage to collect almost as much dirt anyway. So in Niger, I finally made the liberating decision to live with nail-dirt.

Besides, the task of cleaning my nails - a relatively futile pursuit - gives me a virtually endless occupation while waiting for the flickering Internet/ network/electricity/ sputtering generator to resume here in Nigeria.

Worst Experience: Any of my coughing fits, from which I suffered through most of Nigér, could take this prize.
Other than that, I think five months of constant travel is beginning to take its toll on me, though in subtle ways. I notice that I walk more slowly than I used to; I am less eager to see absolutely everything in a city upon arrival; I linger in air-conditioned establishments. I'm still excited about seeing new things and am not quite ready to go back to America yet, but perhaps the best way to describe it is that I approach our trip now more with the enthusiasm of a St. Bernard than that of a labrador retriever puppy. Still along for the ride, and happily so, but no longer slamming against the car door in impatience to board. I can wait unperterbed for it to be opened.. and might also lie down while doing so.

Best Experience: In a desert environment, hot and dry is hard to get away from... unless your hotel has a POOL ! Lil' miss stinky got bumped up a level in Niamey due to the lack of readily available budget accomodation, with the result that a considerable portion of my time was spent floating like the loafer I aspire to be.

The pool was also probably a factor in my avoiding the Internet.. as cybercafe-ing is our chief way of spending extra time in a city, going to find one in the capital meant having to leave the pool. I am still flattered and touched by the community of people who became alarmed when I suddenly stopped posting. I should confess, I'm much more selfish than I let on, and keeping this blog is largely a selfish project to preserve the memory for myself. Distracted by a stressful task and feeling physically blah, I didn't think twice about abandoning my writing for a week, or consider the impression that would leave. But I hope that laziness won't be equated with a lack of fondness for my friends.. who always manage to make the oft-frustrating task of getting online in Africa worthwhile!