Apologies galore for the lack of blogging the past three months. As I’ve mentioned, internet in this country, like a lot of things, is fickle and requires much patience. I’ve really gotten into the letter-writing, too, and obviously that‘s much more personal.. I alone might keep USPS in business.
Anyway, we’ve just finished our first three months at post (a major milestone, so three cheers for us!) and are back in the regional capital waiting out a standfast (local elections this weekend, so for security we are to remain in one place) then will proceed onward to Niamey for a month of training. A month, that is, to learn how exactly to structure and fund projects in our villages. I am ridiculously excited. Giddy, you might even say. I’m beginning to really enjoy my village and am positively thrilled to actually start doing something other than sitting and chatting with people (which is valuable in and of itself but for me, a busybody, gets kind of old after a while).
After three months of chatting, I’ve come up with a few project ideas I want to propose to the head honchos of the village: an additional pump (as there are currently six pumps servicing the water needs of 12,000 people), a goat loan/microfinance project with some women’s groups (they’re given a goat to sell in the market, then they invest the profits on another goat or in lending to each other), and a business club for middle school students (in which they would take a small product to the marketplace and invest the profits). My friend Issaka (who started a masters’ program in development economics in Ghana and is a teacher at the middle school) wants to help with the microfinance projects, and we can communicate relatively easily and makes me tea, in addition to being awesome, I might just let him. Bwa ha ha!
I’ve somehow become a bit of a defacto education volunteer. Actually, I think most of my village believes I’m a teacher at the middle school, as I almost exclusively hang out with those teachers and with the director (who is also under the impression that he is my supervisor, which, for now at least, I find endearing). My real supervisor is kind of a one-man local government office, so he is always cavorting around on his motorcycle to the regional capital and to other government offices. He doesn‘t really cavort, but I really like the word, so just go with it. I see more of his wife and kids than I do of him, certainly.
Today was a particularly good day. One of those days when I say, “man, this is the best job in the entire world. How did I get so lucky?” I woke up before alarm/cell phone went off, mostly because I had gone to bed circa 8:00 as the electricity had gone out again (thank you, Nigeria), and made myself some couscous and a sweet potato (seasoned with Emeril’s Original Essence, thanks to my parents and their spice-laden care package. I was getting tired of Herbes de Provence.). I trotted off to the middle school and observed two PE classes (while reminding myself I needed to sit on the bench and not jump up and participate. I felt like a soccer mom to some of the my neighbor kids, and it was terrifying.). More boot camp than anything, the two classes also served as pseudo-tryouts for the girls’ soccer team that will play in the Zinder region Peace Corps tournament. That’s correct: the girls actually get to play for once. While I’m away at IST the coach (a dead ringer for Topher Grace from That 70s Show, if Topher Grace were not Caucasian) will hopefully whip them into shape (a la that movie Ladybugs with Rodney Dangerfield). He did confess he’s worried because “the girls haven’t ever played before and those girls in larger towns start to play in primary school.” To which I said, “amma, zasu ba kokari et ce sera bon.” In my typical mix of Hausa and French, “but, they will give effort and it will be good!” Which is pretty much a motto you might choose for life in Niger.
A special shout out to my friend Sarah, currently braving the blizzards of Minnesota. I got a letter from her today asking about my cooking situation. Well, Monson, I have a propane stove (probably one of a few, if not the only one, in my village) inside, and thus get to avoid the trauma of cooking on an open fire. It appears to work well for me, as a PC staff member told me just today that I’ve gained weight. To be fair, this is a cultural thing: it’s good to be fat here, but given this is a cultural exchange, did my best to explain to her (without bursting into tears) that this is not something we want and/or say in America. And then left the room to cry. It kind of amazes me that a) of all the fears I had of PC service, gaining weight was #1 - and still is and b) that I continue to be body-imaged obsessed even when removed from American culture (for the most part) and given the myriad of other issues that I could feasibly choose to obsess over (people in my village dying from malaria, lack of decent healthcare, lack of educational opportunities, etc.). So in case you ever doubted it, old demons die hard. To answer another of Monson’s questions: a typical meal for me right now (during cold season) is couscous and garbanzo beans or couscous and sweet potatoes. I usually just steam both and throw some seasoning and call it a meal. But a typical Nigerien meal is tuwo and sauce (which is pounded millet made into a paste and covered in sauce). Some volunteers like it, but I don’t care for the texture, and I’m not a person for whom texture is normally an issue. Of course sometimes I receive rice and beans (the spiciest I’ve ever had) from my friend Jerou, and it is a meal to look forward to! I’m nervous for hot season, as my fellow PCV Cindy tells me that in a few months, it’s basically mangoes and water for meals. She said, “but when you are sweating from places you didn’t know you had, you don’t really want to eat.” And, another piece of wisdom, “you really can’t feel the difference between 110 and 130.” Fantastic!
On a happier note, I’ve been reading semi-voraciously, which is what happens when you have at least four hours a day to sit and read (not complaining). Just finished a couple of guilty pleasure reads by Emily Giffin, which were truly awful; if she could get published then I’m pretty sure I could, too. Right now I’m reading Assassination Vacation by This American Life’s Sarah Vowell (thank you for sending it, Am!). I’ve been trying to keep up on (useful) information with National Geographics. Just read this amazing article on Jane Goodall and her 50 years at the Gombe Research Center in Tanzania. New hero!
I should probably wrap it up; I need to type my report summary (in French, not Hausa, because I pleaded with my supervisor) and get all my duckies in a row for IST. Anyway, thank you all for staying in touch. I had my first small bout of homesickness the other day (which is remarkable seeing as I’ve been here for six months), but it quickly passed. I’ve never doubted this is where I need to be - what else could you ask for in a new year!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Friday, December 3, 2010
Yep, color me thankful
Greetings earthlings!
It's been super long, I know. I'm back in Zinder for a few days to celebrate Thanksgiving (albeit late, but we are used to delays here!) and have a breather from
life out in the bush.
I've been working diligently on a community needs assessment thing that's due in January at our in-service training, interviewing various community leaders and such and trying to come up with project ideas. I still need to track down the head of the likita/health clinic, who, always just as I'm ready to ask him if he has a second for my questions, speeds off to the neighboring villages to give vaccinations. Most days I sit under a tree across from the mayor's office and hang out with the CEG (middle school, essentially) teachers when they are on breaks from classes. Since it's on the edge of town I can also greet the women as they walk out to the fields, or the men as they drive their donkey/ox/some large animal carts.
This past week I visited my friend Liz in her village, located about 25km from mine. She's closing her service this week, so her villagers threw a farewell party. Liz bought a goat to slaughter (of which I of course did not partake), and some of her teacher friends came by for tea in the afternoon. The highlight, though,
was being transported to said village on a donkey cart. 'Twas a long trip - 2 hours through the deep sand. The cow/steer/whatever hadn't made the trip before, so it sort of refused to move about halfway through (conveniently as it was getting dark, and we were flashlight-less), but thankfully we all had enough energy to follow the cart on foot and a Nigerien who led the way in the pitch black. I also got to pet a horse for about five minutes and said hello to a 2-day old goat, which seems like kind of a childish highlight, but have I mentioned how much I miss contact with animals? I just discovered the other day that my neighbors have a camel, so I'm kind of dying to ask if I can pet it. They already think I'm crazy (because sometimes I wear pants!) so I don't have much to lose by inquiring. The camel has these gorgeous eyelashes and just sits there looking kind of smug, not unlike the Sphinx, and it makes me chuckle.
In other news, we had a team meeting today in Zinder and talked about plans for an upcoming girls' soccer tournament that should be a lot of fun. Each of us will bring a team into Zinder, and they'll also tie in some AIDS education. Hopefully I can find 18 girls who want to play, since my middle school is sorely, sorely lacking girls. We'll see how rounding them up goes. I will enlist for sure the assistance of our CEG director, who, frankly, is like the most motivated person I've found so far in a village of 12,000, at least in terms of encouraging education. And Moussa has incredible patience with my combination of broken Hausa and partially functional French. Thank goodness for him, seriously.
I must sign off as I think our Thanksgiving dinner beckons now. Missed the Macy's Parade this year, and of course, all of you. But I'm in good company and loving my little adventure. Toodles!
It's been super long, I know. I'm back in Zinder for a few days to celebrate Thanksgiving (albeit late, but we are used to delays here!) and have a breather from
life out in the bush.
I've been working diligently on a community needs assessment thing that's due in January at our in-service training, interviewing various community leaders and such and trying to come up with project ideas. I still need to track down the head of the likita/health clinic, who, always just as I'm ready to ask him if he has a second for my questions, speeds off to the neighboring villages to give vaccinations. Most days I sit under a tree across from the mayor's office and hang out with the CEG (middle school, essentially) teachers when they are on breaks from classes. Since it's on the edge of town I can also greet the women as they walk out to the fields, or the men as they drive their donkey/ox/some large animal carts.
This past week I visited my friend Liz in her village, located about 25km from mine. She's closing her service this week, so her villagers threw a farewell party. Liz bought a goat to slaughter (of which I of course did not partake), and some of her teacher friends came by for tea in the afternoon. The highlight, though,
was being transported to said village on a donkey cart. 'Twas a long trip - 2 hours through the deep sand. The cow/steer/whatever hadn't made the trip before, so it sort of refused to move about halfway through (conveniently as it was getting dark, and we were flashlight-less), but thankfully we all had enough energy to follow the cart on foot and a Nigerien who led the way in the pitch black. I also got to pet a horse for about five minutes and said hello to a 2-day old goat, which seems like kind of a childish highlight, but have I mentioned how much I miss contact with animals? I just discovered the other day that my neighbors have a camel, so I'm kind of dying to ask if I can pet it. They already think I'm crazy (because sometimes I wear pants!) so I don't have much to lose by inquiring. The camel has these gorgeous eyelashes and just sits there looking kind of smug, not unlike the Sphinx, and it makes me chuckle.
In other news, we had a team meeting today in Zinder and talked about plans for an upcoming girls' soccer tournament that should be a lot of fun. Each of us will bring a team into Zinder, and they'll also tie in some AIDS education. Hopefully I can find 18 girls who want to play, since my middle school is sorely, sorely lacking girls. We'll see how rounding them up goes. I will enlist for sure the assistance of our CEG director, who, frankly, is like the most motivated person I've found so far in a village of 12,000, at least in terms of encouraging education. And Moussa has incredible patience with my combination of broken Hausa and partially functional French. Thank goodness for him, seriously.
I must sign off as I think our Thanksgiving dinner beckons now. Missed the Macy's Parade this year, and of course, all of you. But I'm in good company and loving my little adventure. Toodles!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
A rollercoaster ride
First off, apologies for the lack of an accompanying picture to the last post. Bandwidth in Niger is, delicately put, not up to the American standard. I ran out of patience waiting for it to load as I sat on the floor of my regional hostel under a ceiling fan, feeling I could just have easily been in Havana in 1954.
So I moved in to my village on September 28th, and while I teared up as my supervisor Ousmane shook my hand (when I really wanted a hug, but you know, cultural norms here don't really allow for a dude to hug a dudette), I began the newest portion of this grand adventure with gusto.
My village is gorgeous, my friends, at least right now, when the millet is high, the leaves are green, and the hills take on a nice shade of purple and blue when the light hits them just right. I love the baobab trees with their ENORMOUS white, almost birch tree (in texture)-like trunks. After meeting my counterpart at the mayor's office, I decided to take a walk for an hour or so and greet people, soon accumulating no less than 50 children trailing behind me, shouting the name of the volunteer who I am replacing. No, no, children. I'm not Zahara (she went back to America!), I'm Roukkeya. And you will like me and not laugh at my Hausa.
I tried to set up my house a little bit and then the next day, as has become my routine, I went to the mayor's office for a few hours in the morning to sit and greet people and make friends (or try). No one does much of anything from 12-5, so I have taken to making lunch and reading during the pseudo-siesta. To say it's a different lifestyle's the understatement of the century, but if you think about it, it makes sense. Why is there such a need to rush around? Why not take some time to have tea on a mat with your neighbor?
Last Sunday I went to see my closest PC neighbor, Mark (aka Omar), and we spent the afternoon at his village's market. Another volunteer (a fellow KU alum) joined us, too. So great to see other Americans after a few days by ourselves! The highlight of the day was eating egg sandwiches on a bench on the side of the road and by some divine intervention, finding a Diet Pepsi. Heavenly, I tell you, but really after four or five days in the intense heat without the possibility of refrigeration, ANYTHING cold will suffice.
Anyway, it's been a humbling couple of days - between my neighbor (and, at least for now, my go-to lady)'s youngest, already very fragile son falling ill with malaria to the death of a dear fellow volunteer (from "natural causes," although no one knows what that means for a 26 year old). All of us from the July 2010 stage are gathered now in Niamey for Steph's memorial service. We'll return to our villages in a few days. I commented to my friend Annette (and fellow member of Team Zinder, as Steph was) on our 15 hour bus ride yesterday that every day here is pretty fragile, and until now, even though we see evidence of it every day, it hasn't quite hit home. The challenges of life in Niger (the absolute poverty and all that includes - disease, malnutrition, desperation) can easily overwhelm a person. But there is also so much that is lovely and worth celebrating. And that, as best we can, is what we need to hold on to. Making every day count is what it's all about.
Toodleloo!
So I moved in to my village on September 28th, and while I teared up as my supervisor Ousmane shook my hand (when I really wanted a hug, but you know, cultural norms here don't really allow for a dude to hug a dudette), I began the newest portion of this grand adventure with gusto.
My village is gorgeous, my friends, at least right now, when the millet is high, the leaves are green, and the hills take on a nice shade of purple and blue when the light hits them just right. I love the baobab trees with their ENORMOUS white, almost birch tree (in texture)-like trunks. After meeting my counterpart at the mayor's office, I decided to take a walk for an hour or so and greet people, soon accumulating no less than 50 children trailing behind me, shouting the name of the volunteer who I am replacing. No, no, children. I'm not Zahara (she went back to America!), I'm Roukkeya. And you will like me and not laugh at my Hausa.
I tried to set up my house a little bit and then the next day, as has become my routine, I went to the mayor's office for a few hours in the morning to sit and greet people and make friends (or try). No one does much of anything from 12-5, so I have taken to making lunch and reading during the pseudo-siesta. To say it's a different lifestyle's the understatement of the century, but if you think about it, it makes sense. Why is there such a need to rush around? Why not take some time to have tea on a mat with your neighbor?
Last Sunday I went to see my closest PC neighbor, Mark (aka Omar), and we spent the afternoon at his village's market. Another volunteer (a fellow KU alum) joined us, too. So great to see other Americans after a few days by ourselves! The highlight of the day was eating egg sandwiches on a bench on the side of the road and by some divine intervention, finding a Diet Pepsi. Heavenly, I tell you, but really after four or five days in the intense heat without the possibility of refrigeration, ANYTHING cold will suffice.
Anyway, it's been a humbling couple of days - between my neighbor (and, at least for now, my go-to lady)'s youngest, already very fragile son falling ill with malaria to the death of a dear fellow volunteer (from "natural causes," although no one knows what that means for a 26 year old). All of us from the July 2010 stage are gathered now in Niamey for Steph's memorial service. We'll return to our villages in a few days. I commented to my friend Annette (and fellow member of Team Zinder, as Steph was) on our 15 hour bus ride yesterday that every day here is pretty fragile, and until now, even though we see evidence of it every day, it hasn't quite hit home. The challenges of life in Niger (the absolute poverty and all that includes - disease, malnutrition, desperation) can easily overwhelm a person. But there is also so much that is lovely and worth celebrating. And that, as best we can, is what we need to hold on to. Making every day count is what it's all about.
Toodleloo!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Swear-in!
It was a lovely day indeed. The official ceremony was held at the Ambassador's residence, and approximately 200 embassy officials, current PCVs, Peace Corps staff, and friends attended. My friends gave speeches in Hausa, French, and Zarma, and those were quickly broadcast on Nigerien radio and TV!
Here's a picture of my new (smaller) regional family (only some of us pictured are new PCVS). Our "Nigerien dad" (our training manager) is in the back row. I think we were all a little choked up bidding him farewell at the crack of dawn yesterday, but we'll see him in a few months.
We are now in our regional hostels awaiting "installation" in our villages. I'm both excited and terrified for the moment when the car drives away, and I'm on my own. Courage and confidence, Erinie.
Here's a picture of my new (smaller) regional family (only some of us pictured are new PCVS). Our "Nigerien dad" (our training manager) is in the back row. I think we were all a little choked up bidding him farewell at the crack of dawn yesterday, but we'll see him in a few months.
We are now in our regional hostels awaiting "installation" in our villages. I'm both excited and terrified for the moment when the car drives away, and I'm on my own. Courage and confidence, Erinie.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
One week left of training
The Hausa love their proverbs. One of my favorites is “Little by little, the bird builds its nest.” Slowly but surely we fledgling Nigerien birdies have been building a community, learning to chirp in Hausa and/or Zarma (with some French thrown in for good measure), and preparing for time in our own nests. Pre-Service Training ends in five or six days, and we will swear-in as Peace Corps Volunteers on Thursday morning (at 10am Nigerien time)! It’s amazing to think how far we have come as a group. The moment we stepped off the plane in Niamey in July, a tall dude named Tondi said, “Come with me right now,” and we did, partially given his stature and partially because he was instantly trustworthy. In a country like Niger, I think we all realized extraordinarily quickly we would need to trust each other and trust our training staff. We’ve had our moments of frustration (particularly with the “just-in-time” method of conveying necessary information), but it’s incredible how much each of us have grown and changed for the better (well, not nutritionally, but whatever) over the past 11 weeks. And really, the “just in time” method and presenting us with incremental challenges/hurdles worked pretty well for most of us. Gradually our “Nigerien Dad” and his crew let us step further and further away from our protective training nest, trusting always that we would learn from our missteps.
We move out to our sites next Saturday. Honestly, it’s a terrifying prospect, but it’s time to try life in Niger on our own. We now have to place trust in our communities, that they will befriend us, help keep us safe, and help us help them.
In grand Sellards style, we created paper bags for each person in our stage to fill with comments/compliments written by our fellow stagieres. We will read them in times of trial, when we remember that crying alone in our huts/houses will get us nowhere. We’re in for a challenging first month in our new homes, but really, we’ll be fine. We have each other, we have our staff, we have those who will become great friends in our villages, and we have all of you at home. Thanks for being there.
PS - My address is now:
Erin Lockley, PCV
Corps de la Paix
BP 641
Zinder, Niger
West Africa
Oh, also, please consider sending news and/or fitness related articles with your letters. I hope to get a radio soon, so that I can at least listen to the BBC and have a clue about what’s going on in the world.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Almost finished with training
Hello my lovelies!
I just finished my second language proficiency interview, and I have advanced to an intermediate level in Hausa, miraculously. We have just returned from language immersion (mentioned in the last post), which was intense but totally worth it.
We went to a small town (3-4,000 ppl) within about 50 miles of the Nigerian border. I really bonded with the people there, actually more than I have with my homestay family, so that's weird. I definitely would have just moved right in, had PC chosen that particular post for me, but my friend Casey will do well there. I decided when I got here that I need to be willing to try anything because no matter what, as an "anasara," I'm going to look like an idiot doing it. Women here pound millet with these huge mortar and pestle thingies (which weigh like 25 pounds) all the live-long day. I decided to ask my new friend Assama to teach me how to do it, partially because I wanted to win them over and partially because I knew they'd find it HILARIOUS. Oh, and they did. Within 4.3 seconds of my pounding attempts, a crowd of about 8 women had gathered, and the laughter commenced. I kept saying, "Amma ina da kokari dayawa!" ("But I have a lot of effort!). They kept making me stop to check my hands for blisters - very sweet of them! I tried to continue for about 20 minutes, and it did in fact win me some street cred. You can also use the same mortar/pestle combo (and again, they are huge) to make peanut butter (which I have also made, go me!), so I may have to purchase this equipment to supplement my physical fitness routine. You should see the arms on these women - they are toned, trust me.
What else? We have two weeks left of training, and I think most of us are ready to be done, like, yesterday. I'm pretty sure being all alone in a new house in town will be uber-stressful, but I've thought that of a lot of things so far. Luckily s a group we've gotten through every challenge rather gracefully.
Thanks, as always, for all the cards and letter. It means the world to me. Shouts to Am and Melissa for being my most frequent correspondents and for keeping me posted on matters large and small. In closing, I'd like to make you super jealous and report that on our bumpy bus ride back from Maradi on Tuesday, we spotted two wild giraffes as we passed through the Dosso region (the home of the last wild herd of giraffes in West Africa).
I hope, one day soon, to post pictures. Until then, sai hankuri. Love, EL
I just finished my second language proficiency interview, and I have advanced to an intermediate level in Hausa, miraculously. We have just returned from language immersion (mentioned in the last post), which was intense but totally worth it.
We went to a small town (3-4,000 ppl) within about 50 miles of the Nigerian border. I really bonded with the people there, actually more than I have with my homestay family, so that's weird. I definitely would have just moved right in, had PC chosen that particular post for me, but my friend Casey will do well there. I decided when I got here that I need to be willing to try anything because no matter what, as an "anasara," I'm going to look like an idiot doing it. Women here pound millet with these huge mortar and pestle thingies (which weigh like 25 pounds) all the live-long day. I decided to ask my new friend Assama to teach me how to do it, partially because I wanted to win them over and partially because I knew they'd find it HILARIOUS. Oh, and they did. Within 4.3 seconds of my pounding attempts, a crowd of about 8 women had gathered, and the laughter commenced. I kept saying, "Amma ina da kokari dayawa!" ("But I have a lot of effort!). They kept making me stop to check my hands for blisters - very sweet of them! I tried to continue for about 20 minutes, and it did in fact win me some street cred. You can also use the same mortar/pestle combo (and again, they are huge) to make peanut butter (which I have also made, go me!), so I may have to purchase this equipment to supplement my physical fitness routine. You should see the arms on these women - they are toned, trust me.
What else? We have two weeks left of training, and I think most of us are ready to be done, like, yesterday. I'm pretty sure being all alone in a new house in town will be uber-stressful, but I've thought that of a lot of things so far. Luckily s a group we've gotten through every challenge rather gracefully.
Thanks, as always, for all the cards and letter. It means the world to me. Shouts to Am and Melissa for being my most frequent correspondents and for keeping me posted on matters large and small. In closing, I'd like to make you super jealous and report that on our bumpy bus ride back from Maradi on Tuesday, we spotted two wild giraffes as we passed through the Dosso region (the home of the last wild herd of giraffes in West Africa).
I hope, one day soon, to post pictures. Until then, sai hankuri. Love, EL
My birthday, cikin Niger
Greetings earthlings!
Though I loathe the term, I appreciate the idea and creation of 'bucket lists.' I wrote an unofficial version circa 2002 but on this day (8/26), I find myself checking off two items from the list: 1) join the Peace Corps and 2) spend as many birthdays as possible in unusual locations. I think Niger qualifies as unusual. Today was possibly the best birthday I've had since at least 1999, when my Overland Park friends Lauren and Clay threw me a small party in the parlor (and it truly was) of Corbin Hall at KU. We were new college students, puppies really, and the fact that they thought of my birthday in all the hubub really touched me. It was one of the first times I realized that somehow I have an ability to make friends with people who are truly kind and lovely.
Flash forward to today. We are in the final stretch of a two week language immersion (in Hausa). I woke up to my roommate Alynn handing me a homemade birthday card under my mosquito net. Everyone in our stage (and a few language trainers) had signed it, and it was very Sellards-like in its, "I like Erin because..." I received a couple of birthday text messages from current volunteers, too. We started the day wandering off towards the millet fields and had language class in an nearly-outdoor classroom. Later on we enjoyed an impromptu visit from our training manager (Tondi) and medical officer (Walter), who were out making rounds to the different lang immersion sites. They brought me a small cake from some random bakery in Maradi; we enjoyed it after a dinner of potatoes and Rancho Gordo black beans (thanks Mom and Dad - Steve Sando would be proud to know his beans made it all the way to West Africa).
It was odd not to talk to my family or friends, but I'm so very fortunate to have over 50 more people in my life who I can call friends, confidantes, and co-workers. That's quite a birthday present. Despite minor annoyances like 115 degree heat and flies out the wazoo (or the latrine), I felt a lot of love today.
Though I loathe the term, I appreciate the idea and creation of 'bucket lists.' I wrote an unofficial version circa 2002 but on this day (8/26), I find myself checking off two items from the list: 1) join the Peace Corps and 2) spend as many birthdays as possible in unusual locations. I think Niger qualifies as unusual. Today was possibly the best birthday I've had since at least 1999, when my Overland Park friends Lauren and Clay threw me a small party in the parlor (and it truly was) of Corbin Hall at KU. We were new college students, puppies really, and the fact that they thought of my birthday in all the hubub really touched me. It was one of the first times I realized that somehow I have an ability to make friends with people who are truly kind and lovely.
Flash forward to today. We are in the final stretch of a two week language immersion (in Hausa). I woke up to my roommate Alynn handing me a homemade birthday card under my mosquito net. Everyone in our stage (and a few language trainers) had signed it, and it was very Sellards-like in its, "I like Erin because..." I received a couple of birthday text messages from current volunteers, too. We started the day wandering off towards the millet fields and had language class in an nearly-outdoor classroom. Later on we enjoyed an impromptu visit from our training manager (Tondi) and medical officer (Walter), who were out making rounds to the different lang immersion sites. They brought me a small cake from some random bakery in Maradi; we enjoyed it after a dinner of potatoes and Rancho Gordo black beans (thanks Mom and Dad - Steve Sando would be proud to know his beans made it all the way to West Africa).
It was odd not to talk to my family or friends, but I'm so very fortunate to have over 50 more people in my life who I can call friends, confidantes, and co-workers. That's quite a birthday present. Despite minor annoyances like 115 degree heat and flies out the wazoo (or the latrine), I felt a lot of love today.
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