My bus for Ouagoudougou was due to leave at 6 am, so I got up at about 4:45 and did my hair and got dressed. It was raining quite heavily when I first woke, but eased off a bit when I was ready to leave. First obstacle - the hotel was all locked up and there was no-one around. However, after searching, I discovered that the key to the reception area was in the door, so I went in and fumbled around in the dark until I located the front door key. After unlocking the door, I dropped my room key and the front door key over the reception counter onto the desk, and left. Next problem - it was still dark, it was raining lightly, and not a taxi in sight.
I headed in what I thought was the direction of the bus station, hoping to flag down a roaming taxi, but I didn't see any. I did see a man I took to be a night watchman, and called out to him to ask for help finding a taxi; He came towards me, but instead of helping, he grabbed my handbag, which was over my shoulder, but under the strap of my backpack; I yelled at him to stop, that there were only books in the bag. He pushed me to the ground, broke the strap of my handbag, broke open the shopping bag containing the bottles of water, and ran off. I scrambled to my feet, gathered as many of the rolling bottles of water, plus the waterbottle Mike and Anne had given me, and hurried further along the street towards where I could see the lights of a gas station. This time there was a real night watchman, an older man sleeping on a bench in one of the bays. I woke him up and asked for help. He called another young man over, and sent him in search of a taxi. In the meantime, I saw the man who had stolen my bag coming towards us. I pointed him out to the night watchmen, saying that that man had attacked me and robbed me. The watchmen went over to see what he wanted, and the thief threw my bag at his feet, apparently disgusted that it did after all, only contain books! Then he stalked off.
Shortly afterwards, the young man returned with the van from the Hotel Terminus, which was apparently just up the street. The driver of the van insisted that he would only drive me to the bus station for 5000 CFA, highway robbery of a more legal kind. However, I was in no condition to argue, and he drove me safely, if expensively, to the bus station, where for once the bus actually left on time.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Back to Niamey
I left the hotel about quarter to 7 on Thursday morning. The receptionist was asleep on the couch, so I just left my key on the desk. I got to the bus station at 7:15. The bus was supposed to leave at 8, but it was closer to 9 before it even arrived. While waiting I had made the mistake of giving 1000 CFA to a badly crippled beggar, and I was at once surrounded by begging children. Instead of giving them money, I gave them one of the 4 bottles of water the WV driver had insisted I take the night before, after I gave him all my gift eggs.
It was a long and hot ride back to Niamey. This time my two seat mates were both men, but I had managed to snag the window seat. I dozed off and on. It was dark by the time we reached Niamey. I shared a taxi with two other women, and the driver delivered one of them first, so i got the ¨scenic¨ tour of some of the earthen back streets or perhaps just side streets, of Niamey. I got the same room as before at Chez Tatayi.
I asked the receptionist about a restaurant, and he directed me across the street, where I watched a cat and half-grown kitten play while I ate. Then back to the hotel, for a shower and bed
It was a long and hot ride back to Niamey. This time my two seat mates were both men, but I had managed to snag the window seat. I dozed off and on. It was dark by the time we reached Niamey. I shared a taxi with two other women, and the driver delivered one of them first, so i got the ¨scenic¨ tour of some of the earthen back streets or perhaps just side streets, of Niamey. I got the same room as before at Chez Tatayi.
I asked the receptionist about a restaurant, and he directed me across the street, where I watched a cat and half-grown kitten play while I ate. Then back to the hotel, for a shower and bed
Visiting Safia
After lunch we were off to visit Safia Sana, my newest sponsored child. I knew very little about Safia except that she apparently liked to read. She had been chosen for me when we discovered that Fatima had left the sponsorship program after my trip to Niger had already been booked and paid for, and we weren't sure if I would be able to see Fatima.
We drove along more twisting and barely distinguishable tracks to reach Safia's village, and like Fatima, she was standing in the lane outside her compound waiting for us. She looked very unlike the solemn little girl in the one picture I'd received. She was dressed in traditional costume, and had some red sparkles on her cheeks. She led us to a cleared area under a large tree where several chairs had been placed. I was introduced to her father, and someone was sent running to find her mother, who was off fetching water. I was introduced to the chief of the village, and to Safia's mother when she arrived. We were soon surrounded by at least 60 children, and almost as many adults. As before, there were many speeches, and then it was time to exchange gifts. I gave Safia a copy of Anne of Green Gables, and a book by Karleen Bradford in the Canadian Girls series about a young girl travelling the Underground Railway to Canada, both in French, of course. (Bought from Chapters using Anne's staff discount). I gave her a little toy horse beanie baby, and a pen set and stickers. I didn't have enough sticker books for the number of kids there, so asked Safia which were her brothers and sisters, and gave them sticker books and pens, and gave the schoolmaster the bag of Canada pins to hand out to the rest of the kids later. Then it was their turn, and I was given more eggs!
After the gift exchange, I asked about Safia's school, and was introduced to her teacher. I asked what class Safia was in, and she said Class 3. I asked her if she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up, and, like Fatima, she said she wanted to be a nurse, so I promised to try and find her books on nurses and nursing. I asked if I could see the school, and was led through the village to a wicker structure just outside the village. It was a single room, about the size of a medium-sized bathroom in Canada. There were 3 benches, and a blackboard. I asked how many students attended the school, and was told 59 - 29 girls and 30 boys. They were all in Class 3. The school had started 3 years ago, and since there was only 1 teacher, he moved up with each grade, and only one grade was taught each year. I asked if WV had plans to build a school in Safia's village and was told that eventually, yes, but since food had been scarce in recent years their efforts had been concentrated on Food banks and well building, although they did later show me one school they'd built in the region. It was time for us to go, so we all shook hands and waved good-bye, and as we left I saw the children mob the teacher for the pins!
Before heading back to town, I was taken to see the school that WV had built in the area. It had 3 sections built by WV, at a cost of about 500 million CFA per section, I was told. There was also a single long section built by a Swiss charity. Then I was shown a water tower and electric pump built by WV, and the generator that powered them.
When we got back to the WV offices in town, I was introduced to everyone, and then they asked if I wanted to go back to the hotel. I said I would rather go to a cyber cafe as I was still trying to email home to let everyone know I was okay, but they insisted I use their computers instead. I tried, but their internet connection was so slow nothing would load, so I finally gave up and let them drive me back to the hotel. As I was leaving the WV compound, Mr Albert said he would come and see me at the hotel that night.
I waited until 9 o'clock, but when he still hadn't arrived I went to bed. Fifteen minutes later the phone rang to say he was downstairs. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and went down; At first I don't think he recognized me without the hijab. We chatted for a few minutes, and I asked him to let me know if Fatima did rejoin the sponsorship program, and he promised he would. He asked if I would like the driver to pick me up the next morning to take me to the bus station, but I said no, it was only a short distance and I could easily walk. Then we said goodnight, and I thanked him again for everything, and went back to bed.
We drove along more twisting and barely distinguishable tracks to reach Safia's village, and like Fatima, she was standing in the lane outside her compound waiting for us. She looked very unlike the solemn little girl in the one picture I'd received. She was dressed in traditional costume, and had some red sparkles on her cheeks. She led us to a cleared area under a large tree where several chairs had been placed. I was introduced to her father, and someone was sent running to find her mother, who was off fetching water. I was introduced to the chief of the village, and to Safia's mother when she arrived. We were soon surrounded by at least 60 children, and almost as many adults. As before, there were many speeches, and then it was time to exchange gifts. I gave Safia a copy of Anne of Green Gables, and a book by Karleen Bradford in the Canadian Girls series about a young girl travelling the Underground Railway to Canada, both in French, of course. (Bought from Chapters using Anne's staff discount). I gave her a little toy horse beanie baby, and a pen set and stickers. I didn't have enough sticker books for the number of kids there, so asked Safia which were her brothers and sisters, and gave them sticker books and pens, and gave the schoolmaster the bag of Canada pins to hand out to the rest of the kids later. Then it was their turn, and I was given more eggs!
After the gift exchange, I asked about Safia's school, and was introduced to her teacher. I asked what class Safia was in, and she said Class 3. I asked her if she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up, and, like Fatima, she said she wanted to be a nurse, so I promised to try and find her books on nurses and nursing. I asked if I could see the school, and was led through the village to a wicker structure just outside the village. It was a single room, about the size of a medium-sized bathroom in Canada. There were 3 benches, and a blackboard. I asked how many students attended the school, and was told 59 - 29 girls and 30 boys. They were all in Class 3. The school had started 3 years ago, and since there was only 1 teacher, he moved up with each grade, and only one grade was taught each year. I asked if WV had plans to build a school in Safia's village and was told that eventually, yes, but since food had been scarce in recent years their efforts had been concentrated on Food banks and well building, although they did later show me one school they'd built in the region. It was time for us to go, so we all shook hands and waved good-bye, and as we left I saw the children mob the teacher for the pins!
Before heading back to town, I was taken to see the school that WV had built in the area. It had 3 sections built by WV, at a cost of about 500 million CFA per section, I was told. There was also a single long section built by a Swiss charity. Then I was shown a water tower and electric pump built by WV, and the generator that powered them.
When we got back to the WV offices in town, I was introduced to everyone, and then they asked if I wanted to go back to the hotel. I said I would rather go to a cyber cafe as I was still trying to email home to let everyone know I was okay, but they insisted I use their computers instead. I tried, but their internet connection was so slow nothing would load, so I finally gave up and let them drive me back to the hotel. As I was leaving the WV compound, Mr Albert said he would come and see me at the hotel that night.
I waited until 9 o'clock, but when he still hadn't arrived I went to bed. Fifteen minutes later the phone rang to say he was downstairs. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and went down; At first I don't think he recognized me without the hijab. We chatted for a few minutes, and I asked him to let me know if Fatima did rejoin the sponsorship program, and he promised he would. He asked if I would like the driver to pick me up the next morning to take me to the bus station, but I said no, it was only a short distance and I could easily walk. Then we said goodnight, and I thanked him again for everything, and went back to bed.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Visiting Fatima
As promised, Noel Laly Albert and Ezzra Moussa arrived at the Maradi Guest House just before 9 on Wednesday morning. It was about 50 km to the village where Fatima now lived. Apparently her father had recently left her mother and taken Fatima with him. Part of the route was back along the main road in the direction of Niamey, but we soon turned off that road on to dirt roads, then tracks that seemed to meander in all directions. How the driver knew in what direction, on which track to go, I don't know. We drove through several villages, honking the horn to scatter children and livestock. Finally we reached Fatima's compound, where she was standing outside waiting for us. She is a lovely girl, and she was dressed in a traditional costume. What I hadn't seen in the photos that World Vision had sent me over the years was that she had tribal scars on her cheeks, as did many of the other children and adults I was to meet. Fatima and a man who was initially introduced as her father, but who it turned out was actually her uncle, led us through a series of connected mud huts to a central courtyard where Fatima and I were seated side by side, with Mr. Albert on my other side.
I was introduced to the village chief, and to Fatima's uncles, and her father' other wives, before her father arrived and more introductions were made. We were surrounded by about éà little children, and numerous other adults. Mr. Albert made a speech on behalf of World Vision, the village chief made a speech, Fatima's father made a speech, and then it was my turn. I said how honoured I was to be there, and how much I had enjoyed sponsoring Fatima, and thanked them for welcoming me into their community. Then it was time for the gifts, and I gave Fatima the book about the countries of the world, showing her in particular the sections on Canada and Niger. I said that I hoped when she looked at it she would remember me, and that it might help in her school work. Then I gave her the fantasy novel set in Ottawa, telling her that although it was a fanciful tale, it was set in the city where I lived. I gave her the little toy tiger beanie baby, and the stickers, and the pens for school, and because she said she wanted to be a nurse, I gave her a box of band-aids and a tube of Polysporin, and told her what they were for. Then I handed out sticker books and pens to all the other children, and because they asked for them, to the adults as well!
I asked where Fatima's new school was, and was told it was nearby. I asked if the other children went to the same school, and was told yes. One boy, a neighbour, proudly told me that he was in Fatima's class, Class 5. Fatima went and got the various letters and gifts I had sent her, and it was obvious that many of the things I had sent, a toy moose dressed as a Mountie, a first-aid kit, at least one book and several letters, had never reached her, but at least some of the books and letters and stickers had. As conversation seemed to languish at this point, I asked if the two horses I had seen out front belonged to her father, as they were the first horses I had seen in Niger. He very proudly said yes, and asked if I would like to see them. Without waiting for an answer, he got up and led us back out front. Fatima and some of the other children carried the chairs. More pictures were taken, of me admiring the horse, of Fatima and me with the horse, with her father mounted on the horse.
Then Fatima's father presented me with a large bag of fresh eggs, nestled in chaff. I thanked them very much, although I had no idea what I was going to do with so many eggs. (I didn't say that, though!) Then Fatima's father commandeered the WV landcruiser and driver, apparently to fetch more gifts. While he was gone, I showed Fatima how to use my camera, and she had fun taking pictures of me and her friends and siblings. The pictures of me turned out better than the ones of the other children, as she hadn't quite mastered the art of centering the pictures, and took lots of fine photos of tummies and belly-buttons!
When Fatima's father returned, I was presented with a lovely mortar and pestle set, carved with traditional designs burnt into it. Again I thanked them very much, and said how lovely it was to meet Fatima, and her friends and family. Her father then made another speech in which he said he hoped that the bond Fatima and I had would continue, and that we could stay in touch. I replied saying that I,too, hoped that our bond would last a long time, and that I would love to stay in touch, but that I did not know how that would be possible now that Fatima had left the sponsorship program. At this, her father promised to return with Fatima to the ADP region so that she could return to the sponsorship program, to which I replied that in that case I would be honoured to continue to sponsor her. Then it was time to say farewell, and head to the local ADP office for a picnic lunch before visiting Safia in the afternoon.
I was introduced to the village chief, and to Fatima's uncles, and her father' other wives, before her father arrived and more introductions were made. We were surrounded by about éà little children, and numerous other adults. Mr. Albert made a speech on behalf of World Vision, the village chief made a speech, Fatima's father made a speech, and then it was my turn. I said how honoured I was to be there, and how much I had enjoyed sponsoring Fatima, and thanked them for welcoming me into their community. Then it was time for the gifts, and I gave Fatima the book about the countries of the world, showing her in particular the sections on Canada and Niger. I said that I hoped when she looked at it she would remember me, and that it might help in her school work. Then I gave her the fantasy novel set in Ottawa, telling her that although it was a fanciful tale, it was set in the city where I lived. I gave her the little toy tiger beanie baby, and the stickers, and the pens for school, and because she said she wanted to be a nurse, I gave her a box of band-aids and a tube of Polysporin, and told her what they were for. Then I handed out sticker books and pens to all the other children, and because they asked for them, to the adults as well!
I asked where Fatima's new school was, and was told it was nearby. I asked if the other children went to the same school, and was told yes. One boy, a neighbour, proudly told me that he was in Fatima's class, Class 5. Fatima went and got the various letters and gifts I had sent her, and it was obvious that many of the things I had sent, a toy moose dressed as a Mountie, a first-aid kit, at least one book and several letters, had never reached her, but at least some of the books and letters and stickers had. As conversation seemed to languish at this point, I asked if the two horses I had seen out front belonged to her father, as they were the first horses I had seen in Niger. He very proudly said yes, and asked if I would like to see them. Without waiting for an answer, he got up and led us back out front. Fatima and some of the other children carried the chairs. More pictures were taken, of me admiring the horse, of Fatima and me with the horse, with her father mounted on the horse.
Then Fatima's father presented me with a large bag of fresh eggs, nestled in chaff. I thanked them very much, although I had no idea what I was going to do with so many eggs. (I didn't say that, though!) Then Fatima's father commandeered the WV landcruiser and driver, apparently to fetch more gifts. While he was gone, I showed Fatima how to use my camera, and she had fun taking pictures of me and her friends and siblings. The pictures of me turned out better than the ones of the other children, as she hadn't quite mastered the art of centering the pictures, and took lots of fine photos of tummies and belly-buttons!
When Fatima's father returned, I was presented with a lovely mortar and pestle set, carved with traditional designs burnt into it. Again I thanked them very much, and said how lovely it was to meet Fatima, and her friends and family. Her father then made another speech in which he said he hoped that the bond Fatima and I had would continue, and that we could stay in touch. I replied saying that I,too, hoped that our bond would last a long time, and that I would love to stay in touch, but that I did not know how that would be possible now that Fatima had left the sponsorship program. At this, her father promised to return with Fatima to the ADP region so that she could return to the sponsorship program, to which I replied that in that case I would be honoured to continue to sponsor her. Then it was time to say farewell, and head to the local ADP office for a picnic lunch before visiting Safia in the afternoon.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Niger
All my flights and connections worked perfectly, and my only slight complaint would be that both the window seats my travel agent booked for me were over the wings, so no view! The food was fabulous, and tho I didn't have any, there was free wine and beer with the meal! Unheard of in this day of parsimonious airlines!
The airport is tiny, only one baggage carousel, but they had buses to take us from the plane to the terminal! A really nice touch.
Exiting the terminal I was immediately swarmed by money changers and taxi drivers. Since I had no CFAs, the Central African Franc used in all 3 countries, I took advantage of their services and changed 70 Euros. The rate they offered, 650 CFA per Euro, turned out to be almost identical to the banks'. After a bit of an argument/discussion with the taxi driver over the fare (he wanted 20 Euros, but eventually settled for 5000 CFA) I was driven to the Chez Tatayi Hotel, where I booked an air-conditioned room for the night. I left my bag there and then my taxi driver drove me to the SNTV bus terminal to buy my ticket to Maradi for the next morning, 7300 CFA, before driving me back to the hotel. He promised to return in the morning at 4.30 am to take me back to the bus station, gave me his phone number, and refused to take any payment yet.
After a very welcome cold shower, I went to bed early. I didn't sleep very well, between nerves and the very loud (but effective) air conditioner, and woke easily to the combination of my wristwatch alarm and the travel alarm. I went and sat outside on the step with a man I took to be the night watchman, and my taxi duly turned up at 4.30 and drove me to the bus station. I gave him the 20 Euros he'd originally asked for, still an overpayment I know, but he had been very helpful. He seemed very pleased.
While waiting for the bus, I gave several little children the Canada pins that I'd got from my MP, Royal Gallipeau. I had noticed the previous day that all the women I saw were wearing head coverings, either hijabs or traditional patterned headdresses, so that morning I had donned one of the hijabs I'd bought, the one-piece light blue one. It made me feel more comfortable socially, tho it was very hot. When the bus arrived a young woman, the only one who'd arrived not wearing a headscarf, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the front of the line. She insisted I sit next to her. I had to put my knapsack under the bus as it wouldn't fit under the seat or in the overhead rack.
It took about 9 hours to reach Maradi. There were several stops along the route where people could get down, stretch their legs, buy food or drink, or pray. I started off in the middle seat in a row of three, squished between the friendly young woman, whose name turned out to be Latifa, and a large, older woman with a little boy of about 3. When we got back on after the first stop tho, Latifa insisted I take the window seat. The bus supposedly had air conditioning, but it fought a losing battle between the outside heat and the hot, sweaty bodies on the bus.
Talk about a real test for one's deodorant! The temperature was about 42 degrees Celsius. I had a bottle of water I'd got on the plane, and I had a cold can of coke at one of the stops, and a bottle of Fanta at another.
The countryside appeared fairly arid, but despite this there were men hoeing out fields all along the road, for millet Latifa told me. The round earthen or woven huts I saw everywhere were for storing the millet Latifa said. The actual villages were enclosed in red plastered brick walls, and were often quite substantial. Livestock was everywhere - goats, sheep, donkeys, long-horned cattle, chickens, camels and guinea fowl. Lots of donkey carts, and ox carts hauling just about everything. Bicycles and 125 cc motorcycles zipping everywhere. At every village the road was lined with tiny shanty-style shops selling everything from food and drink to scrap metal, furniture and much more. Every village also had a speed bump or two as well to slow traffic.
We reached Maradi about 3.30 and I got a shared taxi to the Hotel Larewa -only 250 CFA! I got an air-conditioned room, very basic, just a bed, air con and fan, with an ensuite bathroom (but no seat on the toilet, which didn't flush very well, either) no sink but a shower. I had a much-needed cold shower, got the receptionist to help me call World Vision to report my safe arrival, then went out in search of a bank and a cyber cafe. I walked back out to the main road and walked back in the general direction of the bus station. I found several Western Union offices, but they wouldn't change money. One suggested I try Eco Bank. I asked a policeman standing on a earby corner for directions, and he kindly did so. However, before I got to the Eco Bank I tried one last WU office, and they changed 100 Euros for me.
Since it was by now almost 6pm, I returned to the hotel for another cold shower and an early night. En route I stopped at a roadside stand and had a cold bottle of Pepsi.
In the morning I got up and had another shower, then at 9 went to the reception and made the (foolish) decision to switch to an un-airconditioned room to save money, and paid for my one air-con and two un-aircon night (15,500 plus 2x 7,500);I moved my bag to the new room and then went out again in search of a) a bus ticket back to Niamey b) a cyber cafe and last, but not least c) food!
I retraced the route back to the SNTV bus station and purchased a ticket to Niamey for Thursday morning - cheaper than the ticket out, only 6850 CFA and the bus leaves later, at 8 am. I found two cyber cafes, but both told me the internet was down. I asked another policeman for directions to a restaurant and he sent me to a nearby hotel where I was able to get a plain omelet and bread, for 1000 CFA. On my way back to my hotel, I bought a roll of toilet paper (none in my hotel), a bar of soap and a large bottle of water; I also stopped at a little roadside stand near the hotel and had a cold bottle of Mirinda orange soda and a little bag of water that I filled my AF bottle from.
I spent the middle of the day dowsing myself with lukewarm water from the shower and then lying naked under the fan, trying to stay cool. I almost passed out twice fom the heat, once in the bathroom and once in the bedroom. At 4.30 pm I got dressed again to go out to see if the internet was up at either of the cyber cafes, but didn't get far. As I was leaving the hotel I was waylaid by the receptionist who said WV had called, but hadn't left a message. After a little confusion, I got through to them, and Noel Laly Albert, my contact, said they would like to come and see me, and could I wait for them at the hotel. About 20 minutes later, they turned up in their white Landcruiser, and we went and sat in a lounge I'd discovered in the section of the hotel on the other side of the road. After an exchange of greetings and pleasantries, they asked me why I was staying at the Hotel Larewa, and not the Maradi Guest House as they had suggested. I said it was simple - I couldn't afford the Guest House. They were appalled by the Larewa, and insisted on putting me up at the Guest House, at their expense. Weakeded by the heat of the afternoon, I finally agreed, altho I fully intend to repay them once I get back to Canada. They told me to pack my bag and they would be back to fetch me shortly. While I waited for them I sat outside, and a school across the road from the hotel let out (it was now 6 pm). At first the children just wished me Bon Soir, but soon some got their courage up and I was surrounded by a swarm of little girls and boys all wanting me to take their picture. It was fun until a stern old man chased them all off.
Noel Albert soon arrived and whisked me off to the (comparatively) decadent luxury of the Maradi Guest House. My room had a huge canopied (with a mosquito net) bed, two arm chairs, an ensuite bathroom with sink, tub, shower, flushing toilet, and even toilet paper! After seeing me checked in, Mr. Albert said he would see me the following morning around 9 am. I had the cheapest supper on the menu at the hotel's fairly pricey restaurant, then went to bed.
The airport is tiny, only one baggage carousel, but they had buses to take us from the plane to the terminal! A really nice touch.
Exiting the terminal I was immediately swarmed by money changers and taxi drivers. Since I had no CFAs, the Central African Franc used in all 3 countries, I took advantage of their services and changed 70 Euros. The rate they offered, 650 CFA per Euro, turned out to be almost identical to the banks'. After a bit of an argument/discussion with the taxi driver over the fare (he wanted 20 Euros, but eventually settled for 5000 CFA) I was driven to the Chez Tatayi Hotel, where I booked an air-conditioned room for the night. I left my bag there and then my taxi driver drove me to the SNTV bus terminal to buy my ticket to Maradi for the next morning, 7300 CFA, before driving me back to the hotel. He promised to return in the morning at 4.30 am to take me back to the bus station, gave me his phone number, and refused to take any payment yet.
After a very welcome cold shower, I went to bed early. I didn't sleep very well, between nerves and the very loud (but effective) air conditioner, and woke easily to the combination of my wristwatch alarm and the travel alarm. I went and sat outside on the step with a man I took to be the night watchman, and my taxi duly turned up at 4.30 and drove me to the bus station. I gave him the 20 Euros he'd originally asked for, still an overpayment I know, but he had been very helpful. He seemed very pleased.
While waiting for the bus, I gave several little children the Canada pins that I'd got from my MP, Royal Gallipeau. I had noticed the previous day that all the women I saw were wearing head coverings, either hijabs or traditional patterned headdresses, so that morning I had donned one of the hijabs I'd bought, the one-piece light blue one. It made me feel more comfortable socially, tho it was very hot. When the bus arrived a young woman, the only one who'd arrived not wearing a headscarf, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the front of the line. She insisted I sit next to her. I had to put my knapsack under the bus as it wouldn't fit under the seat or in the overhead rack.
It took about 9 hours to reach Maradi. There were several stops along the route where people could get down, stretch their legs, buy food or drink, or pray. I started off in the middle seat in a row of three, squished between the friendly young woman, whose name turned out to be Latifa, and a large, older woman with a little boy of about 3. When we got back on after the first stop tho, Latifa insisted I take the window seat. The bus supposedly had air conditioning, but it fought a losing battle between the outside heat and the hot, sweaty bodies on the bus.
Talk about a real test for one's deodorant! The temperature was about 42 degrees Celsius. I had a bottle of water I'd got on the plane, and I had a cold can of coke at one of the stops, and a bottle of Fanta at another.
The countryside appeared fairly arid, but despite this there were men hoeing out fields all along the road, for millet Latifa told me. The round earthen or woven huts I saw everywhere were for storing the millet Latifa said. The actual villages were enclosed in red plastered brick walls, and were often quite substantial. Livestock was everywhere - goats, sheep, donkeys, long-horned cattle, chickens, camels and guinea fowl. Lots of donkey carts, and ox carts hauling just about everything. Bicycles and 125 cc motorcycles zipping everywhere. At every village the road was lined with tiny shanty-style shops selling everything from food and drink to scrap metal, furniture and much more. Every village also had a speed bump or two as well to slow traffic.
We reached Maradi about 3.30 and I got a shared taxi to the Hotel Larewa -only 250 CFA! I got an air-conditioned room, very basic, just a bed, air con and fan, with an ensuite bathroom (but no seat on the toilet, which didn't flush very well, either) no sink but a shower. I had a much-needed cold shower, got the receptionist to help me call World Vision to report my safe arrival, then went out in search of a bank and a cyber cafe. I walked back out to the main road and walked back in the general direction of the bus station. I found several Western Union offices, but they wouldn't change money. One suggested I try Eco Bank. I asked a policeman standing on a earby corner for directions, and he kindly did so. However, before I got to the Eco Bank I tried one last WU office, and they changed 100 Euros for me.
Since it was by now almost 6pm, I returned to the hotel for another cold shower and an early night. En route I stopped at a roadside stand and had a cold bottle of Pepsi.
In the morning I got up and had another shower, then at 9 went to the reception and made the (foolish) decision to switch to an un-airconditioned room to save money, and paid for my one air-con and two un-aircon night (15,500 plus 2x 7,500);I moved my bag to the new room and then went out again in search of a) a bus ticket back to Niamey b) a cyber cafe and last, but not least c) food!
I retraced the route back to the SNTV bus station and purchased a ticket to Niamey for Thursday morning - cheaper than the ticket out, only 6850 CFA and the bus leaves later, at 8 am. I found two cyber cafes, but both told me the internet was down. I asked another policeman for directions to a restaurant and he sent me to a nearby hotel where I was able to get a plain omelet and bread, for 1000 CFA. On my way back to my hotel, I bought a roll of toilet paper (none in my hotel), a bar of soap and a large bottle of water; I also stopped at a little roadside stand near the hotel and had a cold bottle of Mirinda orange soda and a little bag of water that I filled my AF bottle from.
I spent the middle of the day dowsing myself with lukewarm water from the shower and then lying naked under the fan, trying to stay cool. I almost passed out twice fom the heat, once in the bathroom and once in the bedroom. At 4.30 pm I got dressed again to go out to see if the internet was up at either of the cyber cafes, but didn't get far. As I was leaving the hotel I was waylaid by the receptionist who said WV had called, but hadn't left a message. After a little confusion, I got through to them, and Noel Laly Albert, my contact, said they would like to come and see me, and could I wait for them at the hotel. About 20 minutes later, they turned up in their white Landcruiser, and we went and sat in a lounge I'd discovered in the section of the hotel on the other side of the road. After an exchange of greetings and pleasantries, they asked me why I was staying at the Hotel Larewa, and not the Maradi Guest House as they had suggested. I said it was simple - I couldn't afford the Guest House. They were appalled by the Larewa, and insisted on putting me up at the Guest House, at their expense. Weakeded by the heat of the afternoon, I finally agreed, altho I fully intend to repay them once I get back to Canada. They told me to pack my bag and they would be back to fetch me shortly. While I waited for them I sat outside, and a school across the road from the hotel let out (it was now 6 pm). At first the children just wished me Bon Soir, but soon some got their courage up and I was surrounded by a swarm of little girls and boys all wanting me to take their picture. It was fun until a stern old man chased them all off.
Noel Albert soon arrived and whisked me off to the (comparatively) decadent luxury of the Maradi Guest House. My room had a huge canopied (with a mosquito net) bed, two arm chairs, an ensuite bathroom with sink, tub, shower, flushing toilet, and even toilet paper! After seeing me checked in, Mr. Albert said he would see me the following morning around 9 am. I had the cheapest supper on the menu at the hotel's fairly pricey restaurant, then went to bed.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Almost...
Well, as of last Friday I now have all my visas. The previous week I had gone to the Malian Embassy on the Thursday, handed over my $100 cash, all the forms, pictures, and of course, passport, and was told to come back the following morning to pick up my visa. I got to the embassy around 11 am on the Friday, only to have to wait 20 minutes as the visa still hadn't been signed. Once it was, I dashed over to the Niger embassy on the next street, as they only accepted visa applications from 9 am to 12 noon, only to discover that they didn't take cash. So then I had to sprint to the post office on the corner of Friel and Rideau to get a postal order for the $83 fee, then sprint back (in the rain) getting to the Niger embassy at 12:02. Luckily the woman was still in her office and accepted the money order. She told me to check back in 5 business days. Considering that Niger is on the Foreign affairs no-go list, I can't imagine why it should take 5 days, when Mali can do it in 1, but mine not to reason why. So, last Friday I tried to phone the Niger embassy to see if my visa was ready, but they weren't answering their phones, so I went there anyway, arriving at about 11 am. Once again, the visa hadn't been signed, so I waited fifteen minutes while they did that, then, postal order in hand, trotted over to the Burkina Faso embassy on Range Road, where they issued my visa while I waited. Only $77 this time, not counting the cost of the postal money order.
This week the only day off I have is Monday, so while I was at home preparing lunch I got a phone call from World Vision to tell me that Fatima's father had moved the family out of World Vision's area of operations, so she was no longer part of the sponsorship program. Diane Kelly from World Vision was very apologetic, but as she pointed out, they don't "own" the families. However, she has promised that I will still get to meet Fatima, to say good-bye, and we have arranged that I will sponsor another little girl from the same region, Safia, who I will get to meet also. So, although I am sorry to be losing Fatima, I will at least get to meet her, and this way I will start off my sponsorship of Safia with the major plus of having met her. I just hope Fatima will be able to continue her schooling, as she said she wanted to be a doctor or nurse when she grows up.
This week the only day off I have is Monday, so while I was at home preparing lunch I got a phone call from World Vision to tell me that Fatima's father had moved the family out of World Vision's area of operations, so she was no longer part of the sponsorship program. Diane Kelly from World Vision was very apologetic, but as she pointed out, they don't "own" the families. However, she has promised that I will still get to meet Fatima, to say good-bye, and we have arranged that I will sponsor another little girl from the same region, Safia, who I will get to meet also. So, although I am sorry to be losing Fatima, I will at least get to meet her, and this way I will start off my sponsorship of Safia with the major plus of having met her. I just hope Fatima will be able to continue her schooling, as she said she wanted to be a doctor or nurse when she grows up.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Needled Again!
Just back from a fun trip to the Downtown Travel Medicine Clinic for my trip vaccinations! This time I didn't have to get Yellow Fever, as that is good for 10 years and I got it for my last trip to Africa 5 years ago, but I did get Typhin Vi for Typhoid, Avaxim for Hep A, and Menactra for Meningitis. He also gave me Dukoral, which I need to take 2 weeks and 1 week before I go, for Cholera, and a prescription for Malaria meds. He also insisted on giving me a prescription for something for diarrhea, which I won't get filled, as the Dukoral also covers that. This time it cost $382.00, and that's not including the malaria meds - I don't know how much those are yet.
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