Merry Multicultural Holiday Season!

Tabaski- and lots of dead rams

Sometimes we have the chance to watch movies here. It's quite a nice treat. Some of these movies take place in times like the 1800's. I used to see movies like that and marvel at all the things we have that they don't. Now I marvel at how much easier life was in the developed world in the 1800's than Niger in 2008. Then I read my bible, and think, "Yea, that's more like it!" Such was the case when I witnessed my first killing of the Tabaski lamb. Tabaski is a huge holiday that takes place 40 days after Ramadan to remember when God let Abraham off the hook from sacrificing his son and he sacrificed a bull instead. Bulls are hard to come by, but my village is pretty rich so most families "cut a ram" as they say. Tabaski is a 3 day event. Day one was me at my mayor's house helping prepare food. It was nice, kind of like a family Thanksgiving day. What was not nice was watching as they cut the ram. There was a lot of blood, and a lot of laughter that the white girl was afraid of the blood. Apparently my stomach is not as strong here as it was in the States, because it took every ounce of strength I had not to faint (again) and left me all shaken up and discombobulated for quite some time after. I told them I was afraid of raw meat so that my cooking duties were strictly confined to cutting things that never at any time breathed. The feast is great, and the mood is even greater. Besides the blood and guts (literally, guts, strung up all around to dry) it was a good day. Day 2 of Tabaski was a lot of me walking around greeting people, watching men skin and prepare the meat, and eating a lot of good food. It's amazing that with all the dead skinned rams hanging around the town, I never got desensitized to the sight or the smell. Luckily, no fainting. Day 3 was the ram head day. They save the head, then stick it in the fire and char it until it's black. So I saw a lot of burned ram's heads that day. Again, not a pleasant sight, but apparently it's quite the tasty dish. I thankfully didn't get a chance to try it. Throughout this entire event, people love to give "Barka da Salla," which is a present to celebrate. This present is a small bag of the meat that they cooked. So I got a whole hecka lot of ram meat, which has since become much less appetizing because of its prevalence and preparation process. So there ya go, happy Tabaski everyone!

Bridal shower... kind of...

When I first got here, sitting and talking with women was dreaded. Not that I have a problem with women in general, but they tend to be much less patient then the men when it comes to me learning Hausa. Now that I'm starting to hear more and more, I don't so much dread my time sitting with the women. In fact, it's starting to become a nice reprieve from conversations with men who ask absurd and random questions that aren't in any context and therefore confuse me. (Do you have cows in America? How big is Godzilla in real life? Can you make a prayer cap like this?) The women aren't ALWAYS asking me questions; they sometimes let me just sit with them. One of my favorite places to hang out is at my mayor's house. His wife and her sister are wonderful people and can usually make me laugh, which is of course greatly appreciated. Today I went over to find what can only be described as a backwards bridal shower taking place. We'll call it a rewohs ladrib. Anyway, the mayor's wife's sister, (did you follow that?) Ramatou, is getting married soon. She is out of town visiting family now. I walked in on many women oogling over 3 suitcases full of tacky jewelry, beauty products, shoes, and fabric for clothes. (I have to admit, the fake gold dollar store bling is starting to look real fancy to me. Watch out, I may just raid your little sister's Pretty Pretty Princess game to get myself dolled up when I get back.) The women informed me that these things were Ramatou's present from her future husband that she gets on the wedding day. Here in the land where chivalry came to die, it's refreshing to see customs like this that show a man can care about a woman. So the women who would have been giving gifts at an American bridal shower were going through all of the bride's new things before she even got to see them. They were opening the makeup kits and spraying the perfume and deciding which shoe/purse combination was best. (The answer is none. Imagine what you would wear to take funny pictures in the shoe department of Ross.) When they were done playing with all of Ramatou's new (now slightly used) things, they sat around and gossiped for a while then left. I found the whole thing entertaining, and perfectly indicative of the no-privacy village type life. Oh Niger.

Cooking, or more accurately, lack thereof.

For some reason, people seem very interested to know what kinds of things I eat. This seems odd to me, because food selection in Niger certainly leaves much to be desired. You have no idea how badly I want ice cream right now. Fortunately, being so close to Nigeria, I have a wide selection of fresh fruits and SLICED BREAD! That may not sound too exciting to you, but since being here the phrase "it's the best thing since sliced bread" has taken on a whole new meaning. The main food staple here is tuwo. This is made from millet, corn, or bean flour and water. It has the consistency of cream of wheat that's been left out for 3 days and has hardened. There are many different sauces to go with the tuwo, some are great and some are absolutely awful. I also have street food in my village, rice and beans or dan wake (which looks like a cheese curd but is made out of beans) are my favorites. Everything is covered in peanut oil and yaji, which is crushed peppers and gloriously hot. Theres also pasta with some strange almost tomato like sauce, tofu, and various fried miniture pancake like things made out of bean or millet powder. And because my village is the best one in this country, I can buy salad, sweet coconut bread, egg sandwiches or omlettes, and this crazy thing they make with ramen noodles that tastes like heaven. I realize this probably doesn't sound all too exciting to you, because you're in America and you can eat cheese burgers and burritos. But here in Niger, this much selection in a smaller village is a rare treat. Which is a good thing because I've entirely given up on cooking. I was hopeless as a cook in the States, but goodness friends, it's gotten worse! One of my goals when I came here was to learn how to cook. I've modified that to refrain from accidentally poisoning myself. My first mistake was that time I ate henna, which I already wrote about and therefore don't feel the need to repeat. Then there was the time I almost bought a bag full of Rambo (a freakishly strong insect killer) thinking it was flour. A woman at the market came running towards me saying, "That's not flour! Don't eat that!" because she understood when I asked the vendor "How much is this bag of flour?" Close call, but I think someone upstairs must like me (thank God- really) because I survived. You'd think I would stop after that, right? Oh no. I attempted to make granola in the Zinder transit house, and set fire to the kitchen. Thus far I've set fire to a kitchen for each decade I've been alive. I'm on a roll. I'm not sure how I managed it this time. I put my granola in the oven and five minutes later the room was full of smoke (you couldn't even see through it) because the oven had caught on fire because I'm a disaster magnet. So now I boil water for oatmeal in the mornings (and I don't fail too much at that) and eat street food or tuwo with friends for lunch and dinner. The end.


Merry Christmas!

I love team Zinder. Niger is not the ideal place for one to spend the holiday season, but we've been able to spread Christmas cheer because the other Peace Corps Volunteers here are amazing. My first Christmas experience was in my market town. 3 of my friends who share the same market town and I had a family Christmas dinner, sang Christmas songs, and watched that old Christmas classic Return to Witch Mountain. We decorated Kira's house (she's our central hub seeing as she lives there) and attempted to make cookies for the occasion. I burned them, surprise surprise. We had 2 guitars and a book of carols and I can't tell you how much fun I had singing. We opened Christmas packages, took silly pictures, and ate our family dinner and burnt cookies. Then we decided to spread the Christmas joy, so we went around to a few people we knew in the city and sang them Silent Night (the edgy version, it was in 4) and Oh Little Town of Bethlehem because that is my favorite Christmas song this year. They loved it, and we were so full of Christmas love that of course we loved it too. My favorite reaction was when Mati's friends all started booty dancing to Silent Night, the edgy version. That's a sight I won't soon forget. Amazing. And this was all a week before Christmas! For Christmas day, I came into Zinder to celebrate with everyone. We had secret santas and a white elephant gift exchange as an excuse to get presents. In the morning we went to a big field and played football and soccer. It was so much fun to run around and make a fool out of myself because I have no coordination. The comradery was epic. We all signed up to make a dish for our Christmas dinner. I'm not allowed to use the oven because of that whole blowing it up thing, so I helped by chopping lots of veggies for the lasagna. We had our white elephant gift exchange and ate our fantastic meal in good company. We even lit candles! Fancy, right? After dinner my friends from my market town and I sang a special Niger version of Twelve Days of Christmas for the group and proceeded to sing Christmas carols with everyone. Although it's impossible not to feel a little homesick during the holiday season, it was a very merry Christmas here and I'm incredibly thankful for the people I have here to brighten my day.