As an American in Niger

I spent 14 months in Niger. Before getting sent over there I had the mindset that of all the regions of the world I did not want to go to, I REALLY didn't want to go to Africa. Its always just seemed like such a rough place to live. When I arrived in Niger I wasn't proven wrong in that aspect. However, what I took from there was something that changed me forever. I'm not trying to say that to be all dramatic like I'm writing the narration for The Wonder Years either.

The ride from the airport to my house was one that I'll never forget. The kids playing in the trash wearing rags as clothes, the children leading their blind grandparents up to our car at every stop light, the layer of dust covering the city, the blow dryer wind, the polio victims in tricycle wheelchairs, the smell that I can only describe as African, and the way all looked at my skin as opportunity and bewilderment. I was instantly culture shocked. My ignorant mind couldn't handle this upside-down place.

I have tons of stories here, but I'll cut it short and just tell a couple that impacted me the most. The first was when a few white American friends and I went to see a West African wrestling match during the Francophone games. There were people packed shoulder to shoulder on the bleachers as we walked along in front of them to try to find a seat. A police officer walked in front of us and motioned us to follow him into the seats so we followed. He then pointed to where we could sit, but there were kids sitting there. We were confused so we started to walk away and he pushed motioned for all of the kids to sit on the ground and told us to sit down. He was so proud that he got seats for the white people. We sat down for a good few minutes until the cop left and we had enough time to talk about how the crowd would and should beat our asses. Then we left and gave the kids their seats back.

That's the most extreme situation of how it is to be white and rich in a place of poor black people in Africa. It disgusted me most of the time. I didn't know how to deal with it when almost every time I got out of the car I was swarmed by locals from 5 to 50 years old calling me master and beginning for money. I still don't know how to deal with it. I noticed in the year I was there that the same poor kids were begging for money when I got there were still begging when I was leaving. The feeling that I can't help everyone and that I had to choose who I wanted to give money to and when always stumps me. Part of me says that they survived before I got here and will survive when I leave. Another part is highly aware of how unfair it is that I was born on the other side of the Atlantic so I don't have to worry day to day about whether I will have a meal. I've found out that giving money directly doesn't really help at all and the best way to help would be to put in time or put in money to an organization that helps the region gain more wealth.

Another time, a very good Peace Corps friend of mine took me to on a 1.5 hour walk away from the main road and off into the bush. We crosses a shallow lake and arrived at a village. She knew someone there, but when we showed up the whole village stopped and came to the meeting circle. They feed us their best food (rice and fish), which was actually really good, and chatted with us the best they could. In their culture, a guest is treated with utmost respect. I thought of how I was a millionaire compared to them and they were feeding me and very happy to do so. We all had some laughs and atmosphere was rich with our excitement and appreciation for each other. My Peace Corps friend told me as we were leaving that they would talk about us for years and brag to their other neighbors that they had some rich white people stop by.

I was beside myself when I thought of their sense of community and their style of social respects. To me, Europe and America have some stunning sights, but places like this have more impressive and intriguing cultures.

There were definitely things in their culture that I didn't like. They had the strongest “What will be, will be” attitude I had ever seen or heard about. These people could be in on their death bed and if you asked them how they were, they would say everything is good. I liked their positive attitude, but it's too much for me. Their thinking is that they can always be in worse shape and that they shouldn't forsake what Allah has given them. They shouldn't be greedy and ask for more. This whole way of thinking meant that it was hard for them to change their ways out of tradition so that they could better their lives. I have seen glimpses of this, but it was affirmed by many Peace Corps volunteers.

Niger is also 95% Muslim, which was also different for me. You would see two guys walking down the street holding hands because they were friends, but you would never see a man and woman walking or eating together. I was told that wives cost about an average of $250 and camels were usually about $350.  Prayer call from a loud speaker started up about 5:30 a.m. everyday so I was glad that I could sleep like a dead bear in the winter.  I felt slightly bad anytime I was eating a delicious egg sandwich when I knew the local guys that worked for us were fasting during Ramadan, a month of everyone gets a taste of the hardships of the poor.  I didn't feel bad at all for the goats when they were slaughtered and their bodies hung up almost crucifixion style for Tabaski, a holiday about sharing a goat with your neighbors.  Who knew that something so gruesome looking and horrible smelling could be so good for the community.  Niger was wrapped in Islam and even though I saw a lot of great morals to the religion, I felt incredibly uncomfortable with things such as arranged marriages, extreme unequally of the sexes, and the minutely reminder of how they great it would be to leave this world be closer to Allah.  

Finally, I'll say that the people were friendly and I felt safe the whole time I was there. Those poor boys that were on the corner where there from when I got there to when I left only because of the way the community took care of each other. If one person in the family had money and the rest didn't then the money got spread out so that each person would have a meal. I would say most families in America would envy the way they took care of each other in Nigerien families, but hey, we do have our nice houses and fancy cars. That was the root of why it was so difficult for me to adjust when coming back to America from Niger.