There is More Than One Way to Get Around Town...

We just passed our One Year Anniversary of being in Niger!  October 2.  And...we still don't have a vehicle to drive.  Circumstances beyond our control but definitely NOT beyond the control of our Heavenly Father. When we moved into our wonderful house, we never realized that we soon wouldn't have a driveway.  We still don't due to the road construction.  So there would be no secure place to keep our vehicle even if we did have one.  God's providence.

All that to say, our means of transportation have been our wonderful healthy feet or local taxis of which there are many, many, many.  We live within close proximity to the round point (a major intersection) where we can catch one to go anywhere we need to go.  We also have made friends with several taxi men that we can call for special trips.

Last Saturday, the taxi union went on strike.  Saturday.  Sunday.  Monday.  Tuesday.  Wednesday-that's today.  Negotiations are taking place but there is no news of progress being made.  In the meantime,  we are doing a lot of walking.  I don't mind walking at all because there is always so much to see and I try to always have my camera with me to capture just a glimpse of the sights I see.

 Yesterday, my friend and fellow staff woman, Saratou, and I walked home after staff meeting.   They were in one of the worst flooded areas or town and seeing the remains of so many mud homes was heartbreaking.  Makeshift houses are being put up with any kind of supplies they can find.

 The stains remain on the wall from the flood water.  Canoes were the only means of transport for a long time.

  The remains of the sandbagging.  

Mud bricks don't last long in flood waters.  My friend, Saratou, can still  hear the "boom" of the houses as they collapsed in the pitch black of the night as the flood waters rose and the ensuing cries and screams of the residents.

Back to the taxis...

Our other option of locomotion is taking a motorcycle taxi around town.  In the absence of regular car-taxis the moto-taxis have sprung up like mushrooms to take their place. Although it is true that in many other African cities moto-taxis are the main source of public transportation, it has not been the case here in Niamey.

This friendly fellow offered to take both Tom and me with him on his cycle (125cc - Tom's note).  We graciously declined.
Walking sounds awfully good to me!

Incredible Brothers

I have the most amazing brothers ever.  During the last few days of our time in Kansas for my sister's funeral,  our toilet backed up.  I won't explain all the details of what our bathtub filled up with or what was leaking into the basement, but it was nasty stuff.  We called a "drain-unplugger" expert from town to come out and after a few pokes and prods, he claimed his payment and left, unable to solve the problem.  Next step:  call the backhoe expert from town to dig up the whole system.  He was called, appointment set up (for after we would return to Africa. Not ideal.)  In the meantime a couple of my brothers and nephews stopped in to give their opinions/advice:  "Awwww, you don't need to hire someone from town, we can fix that!"   So we cancelled with the town expert.

That was Friday night and Saturday morning.  

The girls and I left for a shopping trip in the big city with the "honey wagon" parked outside our back door.  (Yes, Lorri, the one and only!)

The mystery was solved when this root ball was found.  It had clogged up the whole system.

The digging done, they began to lay new pipe for a whole new system. Amazing smarts those brothers have.  And their sons, of course.

At this point we girls got a phone call in the big city, suggesting we use the restroom BEFORE coming home as progress was uncertain.

They worked all day...with only an occasional break!  Momentary break, I know, Gordon...

The "honey wagon" leaked a bit...

By the time we got home from shopping the majority of the work was done.

My brothers and nephews are so smart and know how to do so many things.
Thank you so much, men, for your hard work.  

Sisters

Sisters.

I have two of them.  

They have known me longer and better than anyone else. 

  

I always wanted to be like them when I was growing up.  

That's what big sisters are for. (I'm the cute youngest one in the picture above!)

Two of us weren't friends as teenagers but once we grew up we realized what good friends sisters could be. And what good "second-moms"  sisters could be to our children when we were so far away. 

One of the highlights of our furlough years was having "Sister Days."

They were such fun. 

A whole day together.  Just us.

We took turns hosting and planning them:

       making verenike while visiting... 

       browsing quilt stores was always a favorite for all three of us. Helping Donna make up her mind was 

            always a challenge!

       recovering dining room chairs while chatting...  

       antique shopping while talking non-stop...  

       quilting while we recounted story after story...  

       making look-a-like quilted table runners while we laughed and cried.

       working on our own handwork projects.

       sometimes doing nothing but talking   all.   day.   long.  

           

 We always had so much to say to each other.

 The hours flew by too quickly.

 We never got as much accomplished as we thought we would. 

 We laughed until the tears came and then laughed some more. Our husbands would just shake their heads.

 We hurt for each other. 

 I always knew that I was safe telling my sisters what I couldn't tell anyone else. 

We LOVED being together.  

And now one is gone. 

After struggling with cancer for so many years, she's free. 

Free to lift her head high and look straight into the eyes of  her Lord and Savior.  

I wanted to stop in so badly on my way home from town on First Street this morning..just to say hi.  A "hi" that used to take an hour or two!  And she would say as I was leaving,  "do you need anything?  Eggs?  Tomatoes? How about some fresh bread?"  

It would be total selfishness to wish her back. 

But I miss her so much.

Party at the Neighbors!

At 7:00 this morning, as we were eating breakfast, the aroma of incense came wafting over the wall that separates us from our neighbors and we knew the party was starting!  It was a "baptism" for a baby boy, born 8 days ago, to the daughter of the Muslim family next door.  We were invited for 7:30am.  As we walked out our gate we were surprised to see 50 or more men sitting on the street in front of their yard.  

I was taken into the courtyard where there were so many women we could barely thread our way through to the back where the mother and baby were.  

 The baby was darling... I got to hold him.  This is the naming ceremony, the name was given by the father.  Since this is the mom's first baby, she will stay in the house for 40 days during which she is coddled and fattened up and given a chance to recuperate.  At the end of the 40 day period she will get her hair fixed, be given a new outfit and sent back to her husband.

The beautiful young mother.  

I sat with the other women, clueless as to what was going to happen next.  But when I saw them wrestle and tie down a goat and  then sharpen a knife, I had a pretty good idea.  The Imam came to do the initial slitting of the throat and then went out and announced to the men what the infant's name was.  

We were served an assortment of popcorn, fritter-like cakes and dates and cola nuts.

The local drummers arrived.  When they saw the white lady, they surrounded me and beat their drums.  And beat their drums.  And beat their drums.  I finally concluded that this was a "you give me money and I'll quit" drumming and as I had no money for them they continued to drum!  And I pretended I didn't know what they wanted.  It was actually quite entertaining.  They finally stopped and in frustration one of them said, "Madame, money!"  They left thoroughly disgusted and went outside to play for Tom who had a coin in his pocket for them.

One of the drummers had a coin in his ear--I didn't know if this was a type of ear plug or a hint...

We were then served another dish--a sort of couscous made from corn and mixed with a certain leaf.  They placed platters around the yard and we all crowded into groups and helped ourselves.

My dear "grandma" and I enjoyed the time together in spite of the fact that she speaks no French and I speak no Hausa.

  

There were goats and sheep in abundance in the yard along with one cow.  Amazing.  They licked the platters clean.

 

 

Early Morning Walk

During the 6 weeks I was in Kansas this past summer,  one of the highlights was leaving the house before the sun came up and walking east on our quiet country roads while watching the sun edge up over the horizon.   Never any cars.  Fresh air.  An occasional deer.  A great time to sing and pray (and visit with my walking partner).

This morning I walked east on my road in Niamey.

We have a lovely, new, mile-long cement road in front of our house to walk on now (it's still being worked on so is closed to most traffic).  There were people wrapped  in sheets or mosquito nets sleeping on the sidewalks.  Long sticks stuck in the ground to hold up mosquito nets lined the road while people dozed in the cooler early morning breeze.  There were quite a few people up and about--even "Grandma" from next door was out getting her morning exercise.

Notice the lights!  I'm dreaming of  benches with flowering pots of petunias...

Earlier in the week I walked to our office which winds its way through the university campus.  I enjoy this section of the walk due to the sidewalk as pedestrians NEVER have the right away here.

I was amazed at the different look to the university grounds from what it looked like in June when we left.  What were huge empty fields of sand and scrub with the occasional university building in June are now planted to beans and spear-head millet.  Every where.  Around all the buildings.

I passed a motorcycle repairman who had set up shop on the side of the busy road.

At the edge of the university campus was the river made by the flooding.  All the homes in this area that were made of mud-brick melted away during the flood. Hundreds of them.  What used to be a road is now passable only by wading through the water or you can pay 10 cents for a canoe ride.

 When I arrived home this morning,  my neighbor was sweeping the area where she was heating the oil to fry and sell her "onion donuts" to hungry passers-by.