Excerpts from Julia's Second Letter Home July 2010

This afternoon as I walked home for lunch, I somehow got mixed in with a herd of goats in the middle of the street. I had a good laugh with the man tending them.

Yesterday was market day and camels were everywhere, as well as mounds of nuts and spices, bright fabrics and just about anything you can imagine with O’bama’s face on it. They LOVE him here. I’ve already bought 3 head scarves (while I don’t cover my hair here, I likely will at post) and a skirt. We get about $3 a day which sounds INSANE but really is plenty, at least so far.

On Tuesday we met with the US Ambassador, which was just wonderful. He’s a former Peace Corp Volunteer from the Philippines and had a lot to say about the US’s role in Niger.

There’s a funny perception here that anything that doesn’t happen in Africa (and really West or South Africa), happens in the United States. On the (extremely) rare event that a plane flies over from Niamey, the kids all stop and point and shout “America.” It took some time (and a map) to explain that it’s actually “France” that they should be yelling (or possibly “Moroc.”)

Coping with so much different is, I think, the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I still fee like this is where I’m supposed to be. My self confidence waivers moment to moment, but my determination has remained steadfast (your letters help).

The Peace Corps has been in Niger for the longest uninterrupted period of any program in the world (since 1962), and we have an extraordinary reputation here. For me, this means that we’re very well-protected by the important and successful men of this country because most have had influential volunteers in their past.

Tragically, one of my wonderful writing center pens just bit the dust and spewed ink all over my hands. Without running water, this is a bigger accident than it would be in the states. Every little thing is a big deal here, which has turned out to be a bit refreshing, rather than a pain. It’s impossible to spend much time concerned with big abstract worries (the kind so impossible to shake in the states, but also impossible to solve) when you have to worry about treating your water, buying food ingredients, sweeping out the hut, hanging your mosquito net, hand washing your clothes, caring for every scratch and scrape and trying to keep toddlers from eating chalk. It’s stressful, especially while attempting to learn French.

“They” say these two weeks are the longest of the whole service. I completely agree, or at least hope so, as it feels like we’ve been gone for two months.

As of yet, it hasn’t been hotter really than some terribly hot days at home, but here there’s no escape. In week one, we had two people down and puking with dehydration. I drink water like it’s my job here (which it sort of is), so I haven’t had a problem at all, which is amazing I think considering the diet, weather, and overall level of change. It’s also a relief, since the latrine is tricky. Actually, a lot of things are tricky here, like explaining why we don’t have polygamy in the U.S. or attempting to play Frisbee in a skirt down to my ankles.

It’s sometimes hard to remember that being here is work, although it’s hard and definitely not play. Still sometimes, it just feels like a weird camp for adults, especially when we’re at site on Tuesdays and Fridays being fed and given toilet paper