Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara VII

Language lesson time!!! Not that I've learned a ton of Hausa since I've been here, but I'll share some of the interesting words that I've learned (not -that- kind of interesting!!!!). Hausa is actually one of the dominant tribal languages in West Africa. It would be a very handy language to learn if you were in this part of the world, although, as one of the missionaries told me, it's not like people are oooooooh impressed with your mastery of Hausa like they would be if you spoke, say, French. Or Arabic.
Sannu (hello; there are some other forms, like when you're speaking to males or females and things, but as I never get the gender pronounciation right, I just keep things simple and just say the gender and age neutral hello)
Lahiya (I'm fine, I'm well, I'm doing OK; this is the right answer to all questions you are asked. For those of you who know that I HATE being asked "How are you?" this takes a bit of teeth-gritting to get through)
kululu (lump, bump, mass. Try saying it fast; it's fun!)
Akwai kululu (there's a bump... in the middle of the log... ha ha ha...)
Ubangiji Allah (LORD God; we usually say this, that way it clearly differentiates Him from the islamic Allah, so none of the patients can be confused as to which God we are referring to)
Aduu'a (prayer - very important word to know on medicine rounds, in the operating room, as well as in church, cause then I know when I'm supposed to bow my head and close my eyes)
That's enough learning for now!
julia
jlee@galmi.sim.ne

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara VI

Bonus two for one in one day! Dear Gina reminded me of this... about how I never pack anything when I go anywhere, so I must be bringing back the equivalent of a fanny pack back... that will likely be true, as I realized that I don't have any 'souvenirs' per se (not that I don't encourage anyone from attempting to pick me up from the airport with allllll my heavy luggage, as my parents told me to take the TTC home from Pearson.... actually, forget it. My parents live closer to Pearson than most of you anyways... ). So, I'm apologizing in advance for lack of gifts. Not that it's not for trying. But it's been kind of hard to buy tourist trap souvenirs, cause, um, tourists don't go to Niger. They mine uranium. That's their big draw. (Whoo, you can see the line-ups now; I went to the uranium mines in Niger and all I got was this lousy T-shirt...). Hyon and Peter warned me that there was a dearth of culture here... no elephant jewellery, no velvet-painted Elvises, no snowman paperweights, no "Niger at night" postcards, no stuffed lions and giraffes at the local Disney Co., no keychains saying "I love Niger", etc. There's even NO McDonalds here in the country (whoo hoo!!! At least one place in the world multinationals have yet to besmirch by getting their tentacles in!)! Admittedly, Nigeriens have a little bit more to worry about than other tourist draws like Kenya or South Africa.... Typical markets offer, um, food. Soap. Unidentifiable animal parts (but I guess that's food too). Flip-flops. Batteries. Razor blades. Basic clothing. Tin cookware. Plastic washbasins. Yup. That's about it. Oh wait, I've also seen books, but that was in the capital. Even though Galmi has a higher proportion of people with literacy and some education (thanks to the schools and the hospital that SIM runs here), I still didn't see anything in the way of written material being sold here. So, as you can see, I'm kind of limited... well, at least they won't have to stop me at customs and ask me if I have anything to declare... ""why yes, in fact, I have a beaten tin pot that I was hoping to smuggle in, I believe it's worth about three dollars... actually, what about this stick? I picked it off the ground...")
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara V

I got lali-ed yesterday. That's a traditional foot-colouring procedure/ceremony/thing. They use henna, along with cinder ash and ammonia salts to produce this burning sensation on your feet to paint them black. It looks neat on African women, but it's kind of dramatic (like in the scary way) on my pale pale pale skin (did you get the sense that I'm rather pale? I thought I had gotten a bit of a tan, but I still look like I'm incredibly anemic and I'm going to die. I can understand why they think I'm a white person. I am :) ). Now my feet are black and orange, and where the dye didn't hold so well, kind of bluey-green. I'm not sure how long its supposed to last, and I keep on forgetting that I had it done, so I glance down at my feet and wonder why the heck they're so filthy. Makes me think of the engineering tradition with the purple dye (although I only stuck in my arms at that point!)
In other news (although maybe only interesting to Nancy :) )... I haven't eaten so much ice cream in such a short period of time before! I guess there needn't of been any worries about ice cream shortages in the desert... :)
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara IV

A few male-female observations:
1. Women always follow behind men when they walk, never (OK, that's a bit strong; maybe rarely is a better word) side by side. I think it may take me a while to get used to that again (yes, Peter, I'm learning how not to be an unruly woman, aren't you proud of me?)
2. Grown men hold hands while walking down the street. That's normal. I suspect some of you might feel a bit queasy about doing that with your friends... :) I must admit, even to me, that looks a bit odd...
3. Women do not shake hands with men. That's considered being easy. That's a bit difficult when everyone wants to 'touch the white lady' (which has only caused me problems once). The only exception I've found to that rule is in the church amongst Christians, where I am allowed to shake brothers' hands. Although men and women sit on opposite sides of the church, so I still haven't quite gotten my head around who's doing what where.
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara III

I was offered a baby today. I've been offered a couple of husbands, but this is my first baby. Mom got excited when she heard I was from Canada. (Sorry, a bit of medical jargon coming up). It's about two weeks old, 2.6 kg, and it hasn't cried at all since it was born. No Moro, no grasp reflex anywhere, no rooting, barely a sucking reflex. Just breathing. Contracted limbs. Labour was apparently prolonged, about a day or so. We assumed cerebral hypoxia. Baby didn't even react when we were pinching it on the limbs. (OK, medical jargon over).
I mean, my reasoning that 'pas de mari' (no husband) was accepted as a pretty good reason for not taking it, but it was still hard... especially as she had hoped... I think I need to think a little bit more...
Sorry about the downer...
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara II

Well, if you could possibly believe it, it's actually gotten hotter out here today. I don't understand how that is rationally possible. My air-cooler is now blowing out air, cause it can't sustain the temperature gradient necessary to blow cool air. (Here's a funny story, just for Swong, although I'm sure my family will appreciate it too, and likely agree ;) ...)
This morning, I went out to a village while some nurses were doing vaccinations. Unfortunately, it was the first time quite a lot of the little ones had seen someone as pale as me in their lives. I think they must've thought I was some sort of mutant African or something, because they just kept staring and staring. Some babies and toddlers even started crying (I didn't know I was -that- hideous!) and wouldn't stop until they were taken away from my view (after which they got their vaccination and started crying again. Oh well. At least I didn't give any needles; could you imagine the trauma to the children... this pale white mutant monster with slanty eyes comes and bites children with needles, and even your mother can't protect you from it!!!) It was quite strange. I felt like an animal in a zoo or something. Or maybe a movie star... no wait.... zoo animal is probably more likely... I can't believe I made children cry.... maybe it's a good thing I didn't end up going into paediatrics... :)
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara I

For those of you who have never been introduced to the PFTE series, mainly I just make observations about the culture that I'm visiting, and try to provide some sort of education of the various countries that I'm visiting... hopefully it will be illuminating, and occasionally funny (particularly when I talk about stupid things that I do)...
As I mentioned before, it's quite hot in the desert. This actually affects when Nigeriens eat during the day. (Aside: Differing between people from Niger and people from Nigeria is quite easy. Nigeriens (pronounced with a French accent) are from Niger, while Nigerians are from Nigeria. Interesting.)
The 'strengthening' meal of the day is at 10am. In fact, that's the equivalent of the 'lunch break'. We also have siesta time from 1-3 pm, mainly cause it's too hot to do anything useful at all, except for maybe pass out from heat stroke. Nigeriens will tend to have a small snack at that point, while all us foreigners will be eating lunch at that point. Finally, they'll tend to eat dinner much later, around 8 or 9pm, because it's too hot to try and cook earlier than that (all of us silly foreigners who eat around 6 or 7pm are clearly just being silly; 'slaving over a hot stove' takes on a WHOLE new meaning here).
julia