One Year & Counting

Yesterday marked my one-year point in Niger. As if to celebrate, an angel sent me NBA basketball highlights and a Gwen Stefani music video, which I found on the television at the private hospital on the river in Niamey, where I'd been hanging out since Wednesday, when the Peace Corps doctor didn't know what else to do with me and my left ear, which had been oozing blood and pus, and the rest of my body, which had been soundly rejecting (through vomiting and indifference) any antibiotic or painkiller he threw at it. A land mine also exploded in Niamey on Wednesday, so that was extra exciting.

Anyway, the hospital had French television, which marked the first time I'd seen a car commercial in a year. Too bad I was too sick to watch it until the day I was leaving.

Since I'm in Niamey for continued convalescence, I thought I'd shed some light on what the past year has brought. It's the longest I've been in one place since graduating high school, so that's a big deal, plus, well, it's here.

I haven't recognized changes in myself as I'd expected, although they may exist, but I've watched my friends change. I guess I was a pretty 'typical' Peace Corps volunteer before I was even a Peace Corps volunteer, so I didn't do as much adjusting as some to this life of constant traveling, camping, simple eating, quiet, independence, and being alone in a crowd.

During the past year, I:

cut ten inches off my hair for practical purposes: it was too hot long, and short it saved water. Helps that I only wash it once a week in the bush now.

bought toilet paper once (a 4-roll pack) before dismissing it as an unnecessary expense.

changed from a lover of vegetables into a worshipper.

abandoned use of separate soaps for laundry, dishes, body, face and hair. I bought shampoo and conditioner once; I save them for use in Niamey. In the bush I use one bar of soap for face, hair, body and laundry. Dishes get washed with filtered water when they're lucky. If clothes are really dirty, they get soaked in blue powder soap from the market.

wore high heels five times. Most days are spent in $1 flip-flops, which can be repaired at the market for 10cfa (a penny). I bought new flip-flops once because I'd worn through the heels of my first pair.

farmed. And I ate my work.

along with my friends, lost the ability to follow plotlines in movies because we are too busy exclaiming over the food featured in a given scene (its apparent deliciousness and/or the wasting of it) to pay attention to the dialogue.

learned how to spit. And how to blow a snot rocket. That sounds disgusting, and I'm sure it is, but kleenex is also a waste.

dreamed about cake on a monthly basis. The dreams usually included some other event, like a birthday or wedding, but really, they were about the cake.

developed the skill of passing an afternoon without so much as a book for entertainment. Turns out time just passes.

decided I really do like millet mush with snot sauce.

spent, percentage-wise, more of my income on chocolate and beer than anything else - other than fruit & veggies, of course. This is due mostly to the fact that chocolate and beer are relatively expensive (esp. chocolate), but also to the fact that I like them.

worked for every drop of water I used in the village, and adjusted my consumption accordingly.

got good enough at Zarma and French to not be able to sleep if the radio is on next door. At the beginning, I could tune out the incomprehensible babble; now I listen to the news.

heard precisely one of Rolling Stone Magazine's Top 100 Singles of 2007. Now I pick up the gossip magazines lying around the hostel, sent from Amerik, and I don't recognize the celebrities they're talking about, nor have I heard of the movies or television shows they're in. And the clothes are preposterous.

came to prefer the village to the city, regardless of the availability of ice cream. But I still love ice cream.

grew to know my neighbors, and not to mind when they called over my wall to ask how I'd slept while I was still asleep.

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That's about it for now, actually. Those of you who are still hanging on for more anecdotes from the SIDA bike ride, or speculation about the placement of those land mines, or plans of my recently planted garden plots (four big ones), or details about the recent oozing from my head will have to wait for my book to come out. Kala suru.

Until next time, when I'll have been to GHANA and back, I bid you peace on earth and sustainable living.