July 2005

July 7, 2005

(Originally written Late January 2005)

I have never been a man of great words. I often have trouble expressing the ideas that seem so clear inside my head. So I have learned to do what many in my position have done: �borrow� inspiring lines from others who were inspiring with words. Of which, few have been better than Robert Frost who wrote:

I truly have been blessed over the last year. For the first time in eight years I did not have to cram all of my possessions into my old Pontiac (dubbed Sea Biscuit for its never-say-die attitude) and change addresses. I had a good apartment, a low rent, and an awesome roommate. I made some great friends who were always up for blowing off steam at the local pub. I earned the best job I will ever have (full benefits, plus three day weekends) at an ideal location with the best coworkers one could have asked for. I managed to keep busy each night through nursing home visits, community prayer, frisbee, volunteering at Bingo, and, of course, Sunday night Chinese delivery in front of the Sopranos. On the weekends I had the privilege of working with some amazing kids every Saturday, sharing in their joy at improving grades, in their struggles with their growing pains, and, of course, in their football games. A group of friends welcomed me at their weekly gatherings on my off day and treated me like family. A lovely Irish lady invited me into her home every Friday for tea and made sure I never left hungry or empty-handed. Though I had no reason to leave Boston, my family was a short, cheap bus ride away. I got to see them quite frequently (although never enough).

It has been the people in my life that have made this last year so comfortable for me. I could relive it one hundred times and still die a happy man. But I am called to leave. It brings great pain to see the sadness in those that I love when I say good-bye. I hope they will grow to understand my decisions and I pray that they will realize how thankful I am for each one of them. It is their support that motivates me through life�s long journey; through the miles to go before I sleep...

July 11, 2005

Why? This infernal question has plagued me since I decided to leave my comfortable surroundings seventeen months ago. I can answer all the other questions with ease and at length: Who? What? Where? (well maybe not this one with ease or accuracy) When? (probably even less ease and accuracy than �Where�), and How? But Why? Those three simple letters have been knawing at my brain, frustrating me for almost a year and a half now.

In order to figure out where I am going, I had to realize where I had come from. I was born in Woodside, New York, a place that has produced countless heroes. My mother emerged to become a nurse, my aunt worked for the arch dioceses of New York, my uncle joined the Air Force. My grandmother was the backbone that held the family together, giving unselfishly of herself to us all. She withstood all the difficult decisions of her loved ones and stood strong through far too many premature deaths. My father joined the Fire Department of New York. Growing up his parents had an open door to all those in need, as they became known as having the smallest house but the biggest home. His friends would always take up a collection for those in need and assist others in finding employment. In Woodside, never was there a fund raiser that went unsupported. When America asked for help in Vietnam, no mothers received more final letters than those residing in the 11377 zip code. As I was ready to embark a stranger in a local bar gave me his card and told me if there was anything I ever needed overseas, someway, somehow, Woodside would make sure I received it.

There has been a strand of consistency throughout my life. I have always been drawn to service organizations: The Boy Scouts of America, Alpha Phi Omega, The Knights of Columbus, all of which include a very patriotic tone. Yet each of these organizations is international. These organizations realize that isolationism has failed. In assisting others with similar needs we can all work to fulfill our goals.

Then came the turning point for my generation of Americans. September 11 changed us all. As the shock wore off that damn question kept popping up, why? Why do they hate us so much? Why did they find the need to punish over 3000 people with agonizing deaths and leave countless more physically and emotionally scarred for life? Why are they so abhor me so much that they would drop a 110 story building on my father? Why were we not able to stop this?

There was fear. There was anger. I knew I shouldn�t make any rash decisions so I decided to stay the course my life was on and see where it leads me. And it has called me overseas.

Now the infamous word arose again: why me? Resting comfortably in Boston I saw a need for more people to act. Though I am extremely grateful to them, I knew I could not join the military. But I also knew I could not remain ideal. It would have been easy to, but I could not pass the responsibility to another. I have to go to the front lines.

Is Niger the front line? Currently, there is no conflict there. Most Americans probably never even heard of Niger, so why should I be there? Until recently, most Americans probably had never heard of Kabul or Fallujah either though. When we send our troops into harm�s way we have failed. If I can do my job right Agadez, Zinder, Nguigui, Maradi, and Niamey will not be household names. The mountainous Sahara will not become a training ground for violence. Understanding will replace fear; thus replacing hatred.

If I do my job right my loved ones will never again be put through the horror of four years ago.

July 17, 2005

I arrived in Africa on Friday evening but could not see much of the scenery because of the darkness.  Initially the heat didn't phase me, but it is constant.  I sweat tremendously when I'm active, but when I sit around and relax (which occurs a lot in Niger) it is comfortable.

The sand has not bothered me much but it is everywhere.  Since this is rainy season there is some green throughout the landscape (it's actually quite pretty) but there is no grass and little concrete.  On Saturday night it was windy.  I was kept awake by the nuisance of a constant pelting of dust. 

The creatures will take some getting used to.  Flies are everywhere.  I sleep outside under a mosquito net that has been effective.  But during the day there are hundreds of flies landing everywhere.  Fortunately, they are not the kind that bite.  I have seen, but luckily not been bothered by, large insects.  Lizards are all around too but since they eat bugs I consider them "mes amis".  Toads are prevalent too and get pretty loud at night.  One snuck under my bed and woke me tonight. 

I have yet to explore anything outside of the compound.  They are gradually building me up to full emersion.  The people are extremely friendly and sociable (even when I can't communicate with them) which makes everything "tres bien".  I am excited for what the next few years will bring. 

July 18, 2005

Bani Samay Walla! (I am good health!)

I was adopted by a host family today.  They are all very nice-it is quite a large family and I don't know how everyone is related.  They speak Zarma and have begun teaching me and my "brother" in adoption basic greetings, numbers, and random vocabulary.  The family has hosted others once before so we have it a bit easier.  The kids are excited but are not in shock to have two white guys in their hut (we actually have a separate hut on their property with a walled off portion of their yard for privacy.  The eldest daughter ( I think the eldest, unless I am mistaken a daughter for a wife) speaks French and a bit of English (actually all the kids can count to 10 in English) so we can communicate a bit.

For dinner ate millet.  It was prepared in a pot over a fire by the wives and daughters in the evening.  During this time we spoke to the kids and showed them pictures of our families.  They kept asking who each person was (they were usually the same people).  Since we are unfamiliar to them they see all foreigners as looking the same.  Our language instructor came to check on us and the three of us ate early.  To eat we sit on a mat after removing our shoes.  The food is placed in the center.  Sometimes it is eaten with the right hand only-which gets rather messy. Fortunately we had our own bowl and spoon tonight.  Despite the poverty I have been well fed. 

July 22   

I have spent one full week in Africa (and I have been sweating during every minute of it!) Actually, the heat has not been that bad and I only really sweat when performing physical activity or drinking hot tea.  The insects still take some getting used to.  The flies do not bother me much except when they land on my face.  They are everywhere from sunrise to sunset.

I have been eating well.  The family I have been staying with serves me rice and sauce every night.  Sometimes they mix in lamb meat or oil.  We eat on a mat outside (inside if it rains).  We sit in a circle with our shoes off.  Some families eat with their hands and take food out of one big platter.  I am fortunate to be given my own bowl and spoon.  Before eating, we wash our hands in a bowl alongside the mat.  We say a quick blessing before and after the meal.  We never use our left hand-it is bad manners to do so. 

At dinner, the other guest and I eat with the second oldest daughter.  We would eat with the father, but he works too late on the farm.  The father has two wives and ten children ranging from the mid 20�s to new born.  The oldest child is married and lives here with her husband (he works late also, so I don�t see him much).  They have a baby daughter to add to the number of kids running around.  Most of the kids seem to eat while dinner is cooking by just reaching into the pot.  I believe the wives wait for the husband to eat, but they sit on separate mats (I can not tell for sure since it is dark and there is no electricity). I don�t know when the older kids eat either. 

In addition to no electricity, we have no running water.  I have a jug of clean drinking water that is filled daily and two jugs of water for cleaning.  Our bathroom is at the edge of the property and enclosed by a five foot wall.  Our toilet is a hole in the ground covered by a cement slab.  Words cannot describe the hideous odor emitted from the hole and there is no number high enough to count accurately the number of cockroaches scurrying in and out of the hole.  Our shower consists of a bucket and a cup.  To bathe I squat down and use the cup to wet and rinse.  It is not too bad-the water is a little cool in the morning.  The only bad thing is the flies constantly landing on me while bathing. 

Most nights I sleep outside.  It has been almost comfortable.  On nights when there aren�t too many clouds I can write using the moon light.  My bed is a wicker platform with a mattress.  I have two sheets, a pillow (actually my towel in a cloth bag) and, most importantly, my mosquito net.  Roughly half of the time I sleep well.  When it rains I sleep inside where is gets incredibly hot.  Before it rains the wind gusts (there is no wind otherwise).  The blowing dust kept me awake one night.  Finally, the creatures are pests.  Although I appreciate the toads with their diet of flies, they do get very loud at night.  I can drown them out unless they get real close (my third night here one hopped under my bed croaking loud enough to wake me). 

It has been an experience so far as I begin to adapt. 

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