Back in Niamey!

As I said in my Mali entry below, it's good to be back in Niamey, even with things the way they are here right now (that is deliberately vague, if you want to know more you can email me or check the news). As it turns out, I am getting the chance to do more writing, which is great, and to spend time with my old homestay family.

I have started tutoring the three kids and my "mom" in English. Tonight my "dad" was giving me a ride home and we had a great conversation. At the house, he and mom Habsou and I were discussing where their eldest child and the only girl, Ghaicha, should go to high school; although she is only 12, this is already a hot topic of conversation for Ghaicha's parents. Luckily this family has the means to send her to one of the best private schools in Niamey, which will definitely increase her chances of being able to attend a good university (most likely out of Niger, because the only university in Niger is often on strike and is notoriously difficult to wrestle a degree from). In the car, he said that all of the hard work that he does in his job is for Ghaicha, because he knows that being a girl or a woman in Niger is not easy, and that Ghaicha needs all of the advantages she can get. He said he wasn't too worried about his two young sons; they will be okay even if they don't do that well in school, he said, and I agree with him. Ghaicha, however, will have to work doubly hard to get a job in Niger, even with an excellent education. It seems like her father wants his daughter's education to be like protective but malleable armor, to give her the ability to choose whatever career she wants and to have courage and wisdom not to be discouraged by setbacks she might face.

I have really learned a lot from the Wouros, and I respect their commitment to education and to their family. I also admire their commitment to their cultural traditions as well as their tolerance and openness to cultures and people other than their own. From day one, they welcomed me, a stranger, into their home, so wholeheartedly and easily that all of a sudden, without even realizing it, I began to feel like part of the family.

I think this is one of those West African "nothing ever works but everything always works out" moments. Even though I was stressed and semi-annoyed about not being able to leave Niamey at the moment for research due to some unforeseeable circumstances, things are turning out better than I expected here so I can't complain. (P.S.--I hope no one takes offense at that comment, I am not trying to generalize about all of West Africa, but I learned that saying in Cameroon and what I take it to mean is, for example, even if the bush taxi breaks down for 10 hours on the road in the blistering sun, you will probably meet some nice old lady who will take you to her house and make you food and the day will turn out fine).

On a closing note, I checked my mail today at the American Cultural Center and found a nice stack of amazing letters and cards from amazing people—thank you SO much for writing! It really made my day to see a crazily stamped envelope from Indonesia and Katie Beaton's stories about working for Heifer in Arkansas (Heifer is here too, Katie! And sorry but I DID eat too much sheepmeat on Tabaski;)) and also some super cute photos of my adorable cousin Diego with my dad. If you think I don't have your address, drop me an email and I'll send you a postcard. I'm really digging snail mail these days so I promise to write ya if you let me know where to reach you.

Thanks for reading and I hope all is well wherever you are.

Cheers,

Maggie