Live from Niamey

Hi All,

This morning the thunder woke me up at 2:30. Wow. I can see how religion is born. To me, lying in bed, the crashing did indeed sound like Zeus hurling thunderbolts. Nothing in Oregon can compare to the fury of this downpour. Lying there in the king sized bed with my snuggly boy, under a mosquito ne,t in my water tight (mostly) home, I thought about two things. The first and most disturbing thing was the dwellings of all the "settlers" in Niamey. Unlike Kouna, these houses are not made of mud or banco, they are nomadic looking tents of bamboo mats lashed together over poles. They are quite pretty and round and they romanticize the nomadic life of Touaregs with their echos of caravans through the desert. But can they survive a real honest thunderstorm that rages on and on for hours? And even if they hold, what happens to everything on the floor? Are the beds raised up and does the whole bottom of the house turn into a muddy swamp? Because I haven't actually been invited into one of these dwellings, I can only speculate.

The second thing that filled my mind was heaven sent thanks for the rain. The farmers need the rain in the most real way. We all need it, because if the farmers fail, so does the country. That is the difference between the Sahel and the rest of the world. Like Mali, Niger has no safety net. I realized that in Kouna. When people are farming this difficult land, every good growing season produces enough, but no more than will be immediately consumed. We are always one to two yearsaway from potential famine if the rains don't come. And so, knowing the hardship they cause, everyone gives heartfelt thanks for a good rain.

I just found our friends' blog yesterday, it's livefromniamey.blogspot.com. This is BJ's dad who's writing it. I enjoyed reading his perspectives on Niamey and his comments about everything from the colors of the city to the food we eat. You may get some additional insight into our every day life by reading about theirs.

Yesterday, I realized exactly how small our international community is when I ventured out to meet our Irish neighbors. When the mom met me at the door, I realized that we have already met and she's not Irish. Small world. Karim didn't play much with her son, who was feeling a little shy, but he attracted the adoration of the 9month old baby. They were playing on the floor and I was talking to the mama when suddenly Karim yells "Mama, the baby bit my toe!" and indeed she had. Not hard, just enough to attract his attention away from the playmobile boat that had captured his imagination. K was a little disturbed, but forgave her quickly.

Today, We've spent most of the day inside, since when we did venture out, we both got about six mosquito bites each in the space of ten minutes, after I'd lathered us with bug repellent! Blood thirsty little beasts! Anyway, we'll try again later since the sky has cleared and the sun is out again. Even in this land of light, I can't seem to get enough of the sun.

Love to All.