Niamey Stockyards...Really?

Oh.My.Word.  What a fun experience we had today.  Our neighbor/nightguard has been asking to take us out to the sheep market for days.  We found a spare hour at noon and off we went.  Our neighbor was happy to share his knowledge with us. My farmer husband loved hanging out with the animals, even though they were sheep.  And I could snap pictures right and left.

Tomorrow is Tabaski, the Muslim holiday that celebrates the offering of Ishmael (not Issac) by Abraham.

A common sight in the streets this week has been sheep.
   Sheep for sale.
     Sheep being dragged along.
       Sheep loaded into taxis.
         Docile sheep with very little energy. Very docile.
 For you sheep farmers out there:  are sheep always docile or only if they live in the city and when they are  tired and hungry?

So...here are some of the pictures from our hour long excursion at noontime today.   I only wish you could smell the smells and feel the noonday sun beating down.

The number of people coming in to buy and sell sheep caused a huge traffic jam.  We got out and walked.

 The "stockyard" was a huge open area.  Each owner stood by his sheep (or cow) to barter.  The prices ranged from $50-$200 per sheep.  Each nuclear family buys one, if they can afford it, and if a man has more than one wife, he is to buy one for each wife.  Our neighbors next door will kill at least three as there are three families in the courtyard, even though they are all related.

 Don't let the warm looking clothing fool you into thinking that it's fall weather here!  It was well over 100 degrees.

Tom was delighted to visit with this farmer... informing him that he was the son of a farmer as well!

 Our neighbor was always running into people he knew.

There were piles of food for the animals.

 On the outside of the fenced off area were hundreds more coming to buy and sell.
 

 So now that the sheep is purchased, how does one get it home?
 They often come into town tied to the top of mini-vans...yes, it is full of people inside.

...along with lot of firewood needed to roast these guys.

It's not quite like calf wrestling but they did hold him down and tie three of the legs together.  That way he can still kick with one which helps with his breathing... at least that's what our wonderful guide told us.

They got the first one in...

then the second...

 

 and then all four were comfortably seated in the taxi for their ride into town.

 No taxi?  There is always the motorcycle.

If there's room for one, there is always room for one more.  

Tomorrow we'll experience the holiday, so come back for more pictures.  

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.