Niamey

We slept late for us; arising at 8:30. While Collie showered I went to the pool for a swim, ignoring anxiety about the cleaness of the water, determined not to swallow. My anxiety did not lessen when I could not detect the scent of clorine. But, I needed the exercise and plunged in, swimming laps. Water is a natural habitat for me.

The pool and surounding patio and deck overlook the river and the bridge carrying traffic to the north side where there is a large population and the University of Niger. I was the only guest in sight, my aloneness abated by several hotel workers and the hotel cat, all of whom seemed curious about my presence. The water was warm, I am guessing 80+ degrees, the air 90+, but I climbed out feeling invegorated and walked to the rail over looking fields between the hotel and the river and bridge. I smiled to myself as I observed the bridge traffic, heavy with morniing commuters - cars, lorries, pedestrians, bikers; and two robed nomads carefully leading their camels through the traffic.

After breakfast Issau arrived on time. He is over six feet tall, with graying hair and a slim build. With glasses and teeth flashing he greeted us with perfect English, "Savant." He drove an old Toyata dark blue sedan without too many dents, but no air conditioning. Collie got into the back after insisting I sit in the front with my notebook and zillion questions. He was of the Zarma and Hausa nations, married with two children; ages 7 and & 1 year. His wife did not work outside the home.

Issau explained that we would first stop at the museum, and then tour some of this city of 1,000,000 people before he dropped us at Almadine for lunch, a restaurant Susan had recommened after learning of my passion for French pasteries. While we ate, he would observe Ramaden by participating in mid-day prayers. He was a devout Muslim and adhearing to strict fasting rules.

We paid our admission at the gate of the museum, and Issau found a shady spot to park. We left the car and discovered that we were in more of a zoo than a typical US museum. At our first stop, at the cage very large monitor lizzard with a baby on her back, after I took a group picture of 6 boys, fascinated by seeing their pictures in my Blackberry, we attracted an entourage of four children made up of 1 boy and three girls who accompanied us throughout our stay. The boy seemed to be in charge of two of the girls. We later learned their names were Yacine (the boy), Ousseina, Fanna, and Mamouna.

We were treated as guests of honor, an attendant leading us past hyenas, lions, and birds to their pride exhibit - a hippo who had been with them 30 years. The attendant, arms full of greenery, walked down into the cage and stood in front of the hippo, who lumbered through the small but deep pond and opened his huge mouth to be fed. It was importand to the attendant that I was able to get a picture of this event. We visited two more hippos, all housed in very small areas with flimsy fences by modern US standards. The cages of all the animals were very clean.

We were approched by two uniformed officials who spoke to Issau in comanding Zarm. Issau told us that when we arrived he didn't know about our cameras and we needed to buy a permit that would allow us to take pictures. Collie grumbled and paid the fee. Collie has quickly caught onto the money exchange and serves as our offical banker. I am a dunce at this and could easily be ripped off. However, I am good at bargaining and negotiating. We make a good team.

Next we walked through a building housing figurines clothed in the traditionql costumes of the main nations of Niger. I thought it a shame that dust had seeped into the glass enclosures and was deteriorating the fabrics of these elaborate robes and dresses.

We walked on to the Artisian Village where men worked at the traditional crafts of Niger - leather, silver and wood. My previous experience in Niger with craftsmen and vendors had me believing they were a very agressive group. Not so here. I thought it might have been due to the affects of the Ramaden fast. Most lounged or sat as we walked by. When we stopped and asked questions about the goods and/or about pricing, they sat, politely answering as Issau translated and leaving us unmolested as we passed on. We purchased small leather pcuches for the girls in our entourage and wallet for the boy. They seemed puzzled by this gesture, the eldest girl taking control of all the pouches. By this time, the mother in me couldn't resist and I had closed the zippers and hidden the lables on the backs of the girls' dresses, obvious second or third hand former party frocks. The youngest had a scarf worn sometimes as a shwal, sometimes as a veil.

After exiting this area we moved on to see the weavers. These men sat at looms with long strings of thread stretched out in front of them, secured to the ground to avoid tangling. Bright pieces of thick colorfull cotton examples of their work hung behind them on the walls of their hut. Issau explained that people place custom orders with the weavers - colors, fabric and design. The woven pieces are small, approximately 5x8, and are later sewn together in the desired shape.

As we walked towards the batik area we were approqched by a man carrying swaths of fabric. He motioned for me to stop and began unrolling black nylon lace hand embrodiered with red yarn. He explained that the three pieces made up the dress of a high woman of the Taureg people. I am s sucker for costums and customs and lifted my arms as he wrapped me in a full length lined sarong, drapped me in a caftan that came to above my knees; and wrapped my head in a kerchief, all in the black lace with red embroadiry. After hard negotiating with Issau, Collie and me all participating, I bought the outfit at half the original asking price, wondering what I would do with it, understanding that I had let my emotions rule.

We bought several batik strips in diferent colors and designs and returned to the car, saying goodbye to our children. The boy had long ago offered to become my porter, carrying my water bottle. He asked Collie about the gifts, thinking they were to pay us for them. Issau explained that we wanted them to have them at no charge and then we lined everyone up for pictures. As we drove out the gqte of the museum, the guard told Issau that we should have paid a parking fee, but since it was his mistake, he let us pass.

Issau dropped us at Almadine here we ordered lunch of omletts and I thoughta side of vegetables - jardines et legumes. I was becomming more confident with my ability to reqd French menus. We got the omletts but the side was potatoes cooked with rich cheese and onions a delicious and calorie laden surprise. I induldged my pastry love by ordering 7 small cookies. Collie and I quickly devoured 6 of them, saving only one for Issau when he broke his fast.

The afternoon tour of Niamey was through, with drive buys of the major and minor teeming markets, mosques, governent buildings, industrial areas, hospitals, embassy row; the university - 7000 students who attend in situtations very different from the US, as well as the river front area comprised of poor squaters, farmers who till the rich soil of the riverbanks, fishermen with their progues, and bars and nightclubs. Issau gave us a good overview of the government and politicql situtation which infringes more and more on human rights. Susan had explained that the people of Niger were pretty passive about the situtation, although there had been student demonstrations the week before our arrival. Things are peaceful for the present because school is on holiday:

In a country where the average income is only one dollar a day, I asked how people could afford to attend university. Issau explained the custom of solidarity where those educated extended family members help younger family members with expenses. The goal is to obtain a job with the government, which usually means life time employment, even if there is a regime change.

During the rush hour drive back to our hotel, we happened upon an accident that had just occured in front of us. There was a military man lying in the street, blood streaming from his head, unconsious. Issau became very upset, saying that they were just leaving the man to die. As he eased the car around the crowd one man grabbed the feet of the victim, another the sholders, and they lifted him into a car. It looked like he was on a scooter and had been struck by a taxi. Issau said that the public does not rush to the aid of the military. The drive back to the hotel was caotic, no rhyme or reason to the traffic. It was every driver for himself, everyone driving with their horns, neqr accidents all around us:

Issau dropped us at the hotel where we napped prior to Susan picking us up for a Peace Corps event stqged to raise money for their various projects. My heart was grabbed by Elizabeth whose project was working at the hospital supporting women who had experienced tears and holes in the fistula caused during prolonged childbirth; many as young as 12. They lived at the hospital, some for many years, waiting for surgery to repair the holes and tears, many hopeless cases. Elizabeth had organized a co-op who made beaded necklesses and bracelets. She had brought a variety to sell. All proceeds went directly to those who had made them. I bought a very unusal neckless of blue beads and got the history of the girl who had made it: She had given birth when about 14 to a child who had immediately died. Like many of the women, she had been abandoned by her tribe.

We participated in a slient auction and bought raffel tickets. I won a pair of handmade leather Taureg sandles. Collie won yards of tie dyed fabric from Mortania. 5sp). We were surprised that dinner was enchiladas - spicy and delicious! We were joined qt our table by Tony, the temporary Peace Corps Administrator, a Ghanan who noz lived in San Jose, CA with his family, and Gaston, a tall African who was a retired Peace Corps administrator. We ate while the raffel was held and were honored by the presence of the US Ambassador, a large black woman dressed in local tradition. I would have enjoyed the opportunity to meet her, but had to settle for exchanged glances. I think she know who we were as Leslie had met with her before going on to Agadez; Being elderly Americans, we stood out in the youthful crowd.

During the silly but fun talant show staged by the Peace Corps volunteers, Susan handed me her phone. It was a distraught Leslie Clark informing me that Dr. Skankey and Courtney were stranded in Casaa Blanca due a canceled or delayed flight. She did not know when they would arrive and how she would get them to Agadaz. She told us to proceed as planned and bring a cheese to be delivered to the hotel for Dr. Skankey.

It was clear that my concerns about carryon weight, etc., on Air Arik, which we were to take at 4:00 amThursday, and the fact that we had been told that the local bus we were scheduled to take back to Niamey on Sept. 22 would probqbly take 12 hours instead of 5, was not a priority for her then. I asked if there was anything we could do to help from Niamey. She hung up saying we would talk tomorrow, sharing her concerns about Dr. Skankey's particapation in the planned food distribution in Agadez and Courtney's ability to film the mission and opening of the Center.

Susan drove us back to the hotel and spoke in Zarma to the desk man telling him that Dr. Skankey would not be checking in that night as scheduled. Susan was to pick Courtney up just a few hours before all four of caught the Air Arik flight. She left for home as unsettled as Collie and I about the nez challenges.