Musings and Portraits

Where do I begin? Of all the many thing I could tell you, of the all the miraculous and horrible sights and sounds of each day here, what do you want to know? And what do I want (or am able) to tell to you?

In village I write often in my journals. I write about my life here, the lives of the villagers, thoughts and musings, poems. Maps and drawings somehow seem to find their way into my journals as well. I know why I write: to better understand, to make a record, to entertain. To make things here, dreamy and unreal as they sometimes seem, more real.

No matter where I go or what I do I will always write.

Ok, onto the actual entry. Our 2nd training is complete and I have been back in my village, trying out some of what we learned. I have made an improved cookstove, been talking to people about and planting Moringa Trees, am learning how to make soap (so I can teach people in my village), and more. Work here is slow, but...still good.

The longer I have been in my village the more I feel a part of it. I am gaining a deeper knowledge, learning things about the workings of my village that are not immediately apparent. And it feels good! Along with this my language skills have kept improving, though, like most other volunteers here, I never feel I'm as good as I could be. We always want to be better than we are! The mind drives ever onward in its search for more and new and better. Perhaps that is its nature. Sometimes our drive energizes, but other times it wearies.

What about the people in my village, do you want to know who they are? Here are a few:

-Haoua, the widowed grandmother who's always feisty and often in her garden.

-Moussa, the 8-year old orphan with the great imagination (he usually pretends to be driving a motorcycle) but the visible sense of loneliness. Also, he never seems to remember to wear his worn-down plastic sandals!

-Moussa, the village chief, so old that his daily task involves wandering around the village greeting people and then sitting under a tree for a while.

-Habibou, the old blind patriarch, speaking to me much more than I can understand, perhaps with the unspoken wisdom that someday the flow of sounds will turn into words in my mind.

-Maimouni, never ceasing her woman's work- hauling water, cooking, cleaning clothes, going to the fields, making brooms, sweeping the family concession. This woman never rests, even at night!

-Kunba, the middle-aged childless woman who lives alone, and whose husband has taken another wife. She lives near me and often brings me samples of what she's been cooking (Somebody loves us all). She is possibly one of the shiest, most withdrawn people I've ever known. And yet she is always so kind.

-Kenba, the old man, a widower, whose kids are grown and gone, who always prays, smokes, and goes to the fields, day after day.

-Mamadou, motorcyle mechanic and general repair man, with 6 (!) kids and wife and mother to support, with little means who can be real tough, but also can be heartfelt and funny.

These are a few of the many people that I am beginning to know so well. Writing this has moved me, realizing my connections, so strong already, from these people who have welcomed me into their village and life. When I no longer see them I know it will hurt. Sometimes I imagine if, for whatever reason, I had to leave early, and how hard and painful that would be.

Well, it's Christmas, and I'm with my Peace Corps friends, and a fancy Italian restaurant is calling our names, so I had better be going. I hope you are all doing well, as I always hope, and that if you are not, then that you will be doing better soon! Keep flowing and don't freeze; stay open, not closed; dance joyously, don't sit awkwardly; laugh when it feels right and cry when it feels right; read poems, sing songs, garden your gardens, and do everything that builds the soul. Peace!

I Give You My Love More Precious Than Money

I am walking through a forest on a thin dirt trail. Tired and hungry and sweaty I eagerly await arrival at our house on the river, among the trees. I keep walking and then I see the large round huts, somewhat in dissarry, and the old chain fence, and none of it beautiful, but seeing it was still pretty good to me.

I open the old screen door, walk inside, put my heavy backpack down, ease into the uncomfortable couch, and breathe, deeply and focused. "3 months! I've done 3 months!" I think to myself. For, I have finished the first 3 months of Peace Corps service in Mali, and these beginning months are often said to be the hardest. One is new, a stranger, a foreigner, one can barely speak the language. From this point on things are supposed to get easier.

Now we are at our 2nd (and final) round of training. The first round of training was focused on learning language and Malian culture; this training is "technical training," that is, it's about practical ways that us education volunteers can work to improve our communities.

There is so much I want to say about these last 3 months in village. The people and their stories, so many, all of them interesting. The thousand myriad details of the slow life in a rural village in West Africa. The essential human dramas, problems, hopes and fears, laughters, cries- all of them so vibrant and clear, to those who would look. I feel very much as a member in my humble community, and happy for this. I know: who can fix electronics, which women are midwives; who cooks the best; who wants to joke with me and conversely who wants to actually talk with me about things that matter; who has a land dispute with another neighbor; who's been to Mecca; and a thousand or more little details of life here, concealed slightly beneath the surface. Dig, dig.

I feel a connection to all of them, and all of you, and all of It. Do you feel it as well? The pulsing, entangled web of life, where nothing exists alone. If you want to know more read the following: Leaves of Grass [1855 Edition]by Walt Whitman; Siddartha by Herman Hesse; and The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are by Alan Watts. These books have given me some of my deepest contentment and peace and any wisdom about life I might somehow have obtained, and I recommend them to all of you.

During these last 3 months I have: danced; sang; cooked; farmed; written; read; had days of joy and days of pain; learned; taught; biked; ran; questioned everything that I find in me and everything I see outside of me; and grown. I feel blessed for the opportunities, the intensity, the vibrancy of this somewhat-unique experience that I have pulled from the tree of the universe. May you find similar experiences in all your days, wherever you find yourself, for they wait, no matter where you are. Smile and dance, my friends. Peace to you!

2 Months in The Bush

Hey my family and friends (those I know and have yet to know), how are you all? I have made it in to a Peace Corps hostel, relaxing a few days away from village life. 2 months in my village have passed, and life there goes pretty well. Each day in village there are so many strange, wondrous, miraculous, terrible, or horrible things I want to tell you all, and now that I'm here, able to share, I can't remember it all! But, I will try. What follows are some of the goings-on of the village I am currently living in.

All of my villagers are farmers, and now is harvest season, which means for most of the day most of my villagers are out in the fields. What are they farming?, you ask? Out here, people farm: peanuts (so many!), millet, corn, sorghum, beans, and some rice. It's all farming by hand here, of course, and accordingly, it's exhausting! I've gone out with my villagers a few times to try farming, but they won't let me do more than a little work. Even that has been hard on me! Hunched over, in full view of the beating sun, dropping seeds into the earth or hacking away weeds- the life of so many on this earth.

My village is small, and I feel like I know most everyone's names. I have a journal where I write down people's names and what they do, or special characteristics about them. Sample entry: "M. Dembele, 25, dances well, want to go to America to do farming." This is especially usefully to me as I look for motivated villagers with whom I can perhaps do some projects with. Most of our work here is done together with Malian counterparts, for a variety of reasons. Our counterparts can help to translate across the borders of Language and Culture as we work on projects to help people make better choices.

The kids here are great! Sometime I think I learn so much language from chatting with them, because I'm not afraid to sound silly in front of them. Kids are very curious about me, of course, being the only foreigner here in village. Many babies and toddlers still wail at the sight of me, and their parents explain that "They've never seen a white person before!" I'm looking forward to school starting so I can do some good work at the 1 primary school in my village.

Food is rough out here, I gotta say. It's mostly cereals like rice or millet porridge with basic leaf sauces. No meat, no fruits, no vegetables. Occasionally there are eggs. Many of the kids here are malnourished. It gets me down, of course.

As for me, I am doing well! Using my solar charger to power my Ipod, going crazy in a flurry of movement at village dance parties of which there are many, reading lots of poetry, writing a lot in my journals, just spending time with my villagers to see how they live, biking through rough trails to a Market, climbing a large hill to get cell phone reception, eating millet porridge and leaf sauce with my hands, building hand-washing stations, being tutored in Bambara and Malinke, and STAYING HEALTHY! I have been so healthy here, knock on wood, which has been wonderful. After Niger I no longer take being healthy for granted.

Oh yeah, there was a snake. A SNAKE! One night, sitting and making tea with my host brothers, we heard a Commotion. Curious, we got up and went over, cautiously. And there it was! A 3-foot long, black snake, and one my villagers trying to kill it with a stick! And kill it he did. That snake was pretty huge though. Freaky!

Well, that's all for now. Be well all! Know that you are all in my heart and mind, and sometimes the distance is hard, but I know it is good and right that I am here now, and I know someday again I will be home. But for now I am in a small village in Mali fighting the good fight against the Universe's entropy and decay! Wish me well!

Site Visit; Or, Hi, I'm David Metting and I live in The Bush

Hey all, I am back from spending a few days at my village, my home for the next 2 years (if God wills it). Wow. It is off the beaten path...way off! My village is 12K from a larger town, and to get to my village there are in general 2 options:

1)Bicycle (preferred option)

2) Donkey Cart

The local mayor 12K away has a car, if a car is ever needed. So, after I bike or donkey cart to my village, what's it like? It's small collection of mud huts with thatch roofs. No electricity. 1 pump and a few wells provide the village with water. I've heard 2,000 people are living here but that seems high, but maybe that number includes some outlying villages. Anyways, my village would probably fit onto a football field, which means I will come to know everyone. Which is what I wanted and specifically asked for! In Niger I lived in a larger town, which was good, and now I want to try something else.

My house consists of 2 cement huts with thatched roofs, a little walled courtyard, and in the corner a pit latrine. The place is definitely cozy. But inside the huts it's real nice: cement floors, new screens, shutters that lock, and to top it off the walls are even painted with happy hippos. And the roof doesn't leak, as I discovered from an unannounced rain storm one evening. Home sweet home!

What else? Well, food will be limited. Lots of rice and millet. For protein it'll be eggs, peanut butter, and nuts. There just isn't that much food available in the bush! However, the market 12K away from me has all kinds of food: tomatoes, onions, carrots, spices, ginger, goat meat, chickens, yogurt, milk (though unpasteurized...), imported cookies and crackers. I will probably be biking in each week to pick up food.

As for work, there are 2 schools in my village: a kindergarten and an elementary school. I will be assisting at these schools, possibly doing the following: working with teachers (though probably not full-on teaching), doing health and nutrition presentation with students, doing extracurricular activities. Basically I will go to school and see what they want, what I can give, and make something work. If I can give some of my energy and spirit then school can maybe be a little bit better for the kids here. I try not to have too much self-importance about my work. I know that I can do some cools projects and share life with my villagers and those will be good.

The villagers whom I met (all of them pretty much) were very welcoming to me. I will be the first volunteer their village has received. I'm sure their stories will begin to unfold the more time I spend there. I will write them here, you will see.

If all that seems too positive, here's some less bright events of recent note: terrible dirt roads in ancient mini-vans, throwing up the entire contents of my stomach into a pit latrine (and watching the roaches eat it), and getting hassled by a solider at a security check point who didn't think my Peace Corps ID was legit. Luckily his commanding officer knew Peace Corps was legit and he happily sent me on my merry way. So, those are some bummer points. Not really that bad, honestly. Whenever I get discouraged being here I try to remind myself of why I wanted to do volunteer work abroad. The reasons are still there, and strong.

That's it! It's a different world out here, I swear. Part of my purpose in having this blog is trying to share the reality I see here, as it's so different from back in The States. Sometimes I don't know if it's possible to convey life here, but I will still try!

I miss family and friends but know they are really not far, they are with me. Still, drop me a line people! I will greatly appreciate any letters or care packages you happen to send my way! Food is key- Protein powder, beef jerky, cliff bars, etc.

Okay, I want to do some book talk before I go. I've been reading 2 awesome books, not finished, but I already want to recommend them. The 1st is Hyperion, by Dan Simmons, which is a well-written Science Fiction novel set about 800 years in the future, with much crazy awesomeness happening: time distortions, advanced spaceflight technology, mysterious planets, and the continuing dilemma of being human, with all its joys and sorrows. Great speculation of what the future may hold, which I why I love Science Fiction. Check it out!

The 2nd book is The Star Thrower, by Loren Eiseley. This book is a collection of essays about science, nature, and the history of humanity, and the essays are poetic and profound. Eiseley was definitely one of the most poetical scientists ever, and his ideas about humanity's place in the universe are well-worth pondering. One of his main beliefs is humanity's need for the 2 qualities of Compassion and Wonder. So, read him!

Okay then, this is David signing off. Be well, all of you. You (We) are the All, the Every, the Universe; smile accordingly, and dance!

My First 3 Weeks With a Malian Family

Woo! Hello everyone. I recently got back from 3 weeks living with my Malian host family. Who are wonderful! All of us trainees are spending a few days together for technical training, medical sessions, and cross culture training. But I want to write about what living with my family has been like.

THE PEOPLE

My host dad's name is Balla Christian Kamissoko. In his compound live a variety of family members. We Americans would consider most of them "extended," and not "immediate" family, but the Malians do not make this distinction. There are cousins, grandkids, uncles, 2nd wives, brothers, sisters, babies, friends, coworkers, other relatives. I have quite a time figuring out who is who! My family has hosted Peace Corps volunteers before so they are on the ball. I spend most of time there with one of my host brothers- Mahadi. He's 20, still in high school, and goes to work in the fields most days. He speaks pretty good English, and every night he helps me study Malinke, the local Malian language I am learning during training. My brother is awesome and I will miss him.

MY ROOM

I have my own room in the house. The roof is made of tin so it gets HOT at night. Screens have been fitted on the windows and doors so there are hardly any bugs in there with me. My bed and pillow are fine- on the hard side, not super duper comfy but it's life.

BATHROOM

Hole in the ground that I try not to look in or drop things into

FOOD

To (congealed millet) and "Snot sauce" (Okra, not actually snot), rice with peanut butter sauce, oily french fries, goat meat, fish, french bread, bananas, hard boiled eggs, mangoes. I eat well with family!

GREETINGS

Everyday all day to everyone. Super duper important.

PRIVACY

Nope!

Things have been great at homestay. On another note, I've been thinking how when I wrote in this blog about Niger I didn't talk too much about the people of Niger, their culture. I think that culture is an important thing for me to write about, so I will try to do that about Mali. I guess I just want to be careful and knowledgeable about what I say about Mali and her people. I will make an effort, though it may be awhile before I feel like I know enough to say anything.

Well, the "cool" evening beckons, so this is me signing off. Thanks for reading, and be well and happy, whoever you are, whatever you are doing, whoever you are with!

Training again, in MALI

Hey friends, here I am surfacing again...in Mali! Yes I made it back to West Africa safely and soundly. I think today is my 4th day at training here, though time is again achieving fluidity, quite rapidly. It's not as hot here as Niger, and not yet as buggy (though I'm waiting for it). Our training site is filled with TREES.

I am more confident now than when I left for Niger last year. At that time I was anxious and nervous, though of course excited as well. Now I know what to expect from training...lucky me. Though there will still be difficulties, some new, and some familiar. These first few days have been busy, as is to be expected. The highlight was the Malian culture festival, which showcased foods, clothing, music and dance. Yes, DANCE! And you better believe that I got down! Fellow trainees here have already told me that I'm quiet, and I am, but honestly, most everything I'm feeling about being here in Mali was expressed through my dancing body.

It feels weird doing PST (pre-service training, the first 2 months of the Peace Corps experience) again, like I'm repeating a grade. I feel like I'm cheating compared to my fellow trainees, since I do know what to expect and have done it all before. But I knew this would be the case. I'm just trying not to come off to my fellow trainees as Totally Awesome for having survived Niger. And of course language will still be hard, training will still be exhausting, and sickness is always terrible. I guess this is just one of those many challenges The Universe has decided to throw my way, and that I've decided to chase. I read some quotes by Emerson recently and keep coming back to them in my mind:

"Life is a series of surprises and would not be worth the taking or the keeping if it were not."

"Be a football to Time and Chance...the more hits, the better."

YES! Both so true! Emerson uses his words to bring us to motion, to keep us open and flowing and changing. Stasis is death. Deciding for certain on anything is fatal. Our worst moments, our hardest moments, the times of sickness and disaster and loss, these are our greatest seeds. We deny and limit ourselves when we say we don't want difficult times, times of pain. And in my best, clearest moments here, I am happy that I have decided to do Peace Corps again. To strike through the mask, like Ahab.

I still miss Niger, and there are many triggers that bring this up. But of course that is to be expected. I printed out pictures of my villagers in Madarounfa and dream someday of returning.

Well, tomorrow we leave the training site (Tubaniso, "House of the Dove") to be installed at our host families. I am nervous and happy, and hope to do well at training. We do have Wi-Fi at the Training Site (which is totally bizarre to me) so I will be more in contact than last year in Niger, at least for these first few months. My PST in Niger was at times very very difficult for me but it was my fellow trainees who helped me through it. I hope I can be that support for my new stage.

Eurotrip!: Seeing Brighton, London and Paris with Maman and Grand-pere

You know what's weird (but awesome)? Taking a 2 week vacation with your Mom and Grandpa in Europe after only working part-time for the last 3 months, and having been evacuated from a country due to terrorism. Not that I am complaining! It was a great trip and I kept feeling lucky for the opportunity to see new places and to know my grandfather a little better. I guess I just didn't feel sufficiently tired/worn down/sick of a crappy job to feel like it was TIME for a vacation. Oh well. I'm glad I went, mostly to spend time with my family, as in 2 weeks I depart for 2 years (If God Wills It) of Peace Corps service in Mali. Here's a summary of our trip, if you care to know!

First off was Brighton, England. Brighton is a seaside town south of London. It's a small, college town, with some neat touristy stuff and some artisty stuff/people. It's also where my sister Rose has been studying abroad, at the University of Sussex. This was the first stop on our trip. We stayed in a beautiful hostel (who expects that?) and spent our first 4 days abroad fighting jet lag, seeing Rose, going to the beach, eating Fish and Chips (yum!) and not too much more. It was good to see that Rose is doing so well! She also showed us pics and told us stories of her Epic 7-Country Eurotrip (check it out).

After our stay in Brighton we took a train to London. Here, we stayed in a not-as-nice (in fact quite terrible :/) hostel close to the London Eye (this big ferris wheel). We had 4 days in London as well and we used it quite well I think. We saw: the Tate Modern art museum, St.Paul's Cathedral, the British Museum, Hyde Park, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament (beautiful buildings), and the National Gallery (so many great paintings!). The weather was warm and pleasant, and we walked to most of the places (because 4 pounds per subway ticket? REALLY?). I think my favorite spot was the National Gallery. First, it had a ridiculous amount of famous and beautiful paintings- The Entombment, The Supper At Emmaus, The Toilet Of Venus (The Rokeby Venus), Les Grandes Baigneuses, etc. Second, it was FREE! Most of the museums we went to in England were free, which was nice, as many things in England were crazy expensive.

Honestly though, I think I'm good on England for a while. I don't have a strong desire to go back to London. If I visited England again I would want to go to way the north into the countryside and see the scenic Lake District. You better believe I'd make a pilgrimage to Wordsworth's cottage! I would also love to wander into Scotland and do some hiking. One day, perhaps.

When our sojourn in London ended we took the chunell (sweet train from London to Paris) to PARIS, where we spent 6 lovely days. Seriously, Paris was such a beautiful and charming city I can easily see why so many people visit. We had a lot of time here, so while we did do a lot, we lesiured a lot as well, drinking coffees in sidewalk cafes watching the world float by. And at night, wine did flow. Famous places we saw: The Eiffel Tower (ugly by day, pretty by night), the Arc of Triumph, The Champs-Elysee boulevard, Notre Dame, The Louvre, The Tuleries Gardens, and The Pere Lachaise cemetery (Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison are buried here). We made 2 excursions outside of Paris, to Chartres and Versailles. The former was a smaller town with a beautiful medieval cathedral, and the latter was the royal palace built by Louis XIV, which was completely outrageous: glistening gold, flowing fountains, outrageous ornamentation. The guidebook I carried with me spoke of the pathos implicit in this monumental (and momentually expensive) Playhouse of the King, and you definitely feel it. How does one become so blind to the good of the whole, to the suffering of others, and so greedy, as to create and live in a place like the Palace of Versailles? And the Royals didn't even see the French Revolution coming...

But overall, Paris was my favorite place we visited. It's the most beautiful city I've ever been to and I could definitely see myself returning there someday. Shy as I am I even tried my French, though I don't have a good accent and most people just switched into English with a "You speak English?." Good for me to try though!

Overall this was a good vacation. But honestly, for the duration of this trip my thoughts kept leaping ahead to my upcoming Peace Corps service in Mali (2 weeks away!). I keep wondering what Mali and her people will be like. I remember that I learned so much from Peace Corps and Niger and her people and never got to give back as much as I wanted, with our time there cut short. Having been taught (or reminded?) in Niger that nothing is guaranteed in this life (or the next?), the feeling is deep within me, flowing, to make the most of my time in Mali. I am ready to begin serving there. In Niger I proved to myself that I could do Peace Corps, and it is this strengh and endurance I will call on as I again travel to a foreign land to live, learn, love and give, helping people towards a better life.

Not the Man they Wanted Me to Be

Memories of my time in Niger still flood my mind (I know I keep talking about this, and it's probably getting old, but it is still important to me). In dull moments at work, or while sitting on the metro bus, or, most often, while lying in my bed trying to fall asleep, they visit. A frequent theme that keeps recurring, and that I am trying to sort out, is how many Nigeriens seemed to want me to act as a Man. I will detail what they seemed to expect of me as a Man, my reactions, some of my general thoughts on manhood and end with a great poem (not mine!) on masculinity. If this doesn't sound too navel-gazing, read on!

As many of fellow volunteers were female (hey ladies!), I found myself often hangin' with the girls. Which is awesome. This was especially true during training on "language immersion," where I lived with 2 beautiful and wonderful women, Vida and Esther (miss you girls!), and our Language Instructor and all-around awesome fellow, Sangare. During our 2 weeks together "only speaking French" (not so much!) we sauntered around the lovely roadstop town of Guidan-Roumdji. We had a variety of objectives to complete (all in French) that included speaking to the mayor, teachers, school administrators, mat-makers, villagers, and others, asking many questions about life in Niger. Vida and Esther were better at French and more confident at speaking than me, so I sat mute while they chatted. We mostly met with Nigerien men, and as our meetings went on men kept asking me why I was not speaking. A few of the men seemed rather amused that the women were talking and the man was not. Some of them told me that I should be speaking more, and not the women. Cross-culture exchange!

In my life most people know me as "quiet," and this is often true when I am in situations that are outside of my comfort zone. Of course, everything about being in Niger was outside of most of our comfort zones. These men's wishes for me to speak up brought to mind memories of other times in my life where people wanted me to "man up." For me to get the us to our destination, to ask the girl out, to drink my fill, to win and want to win, to build the fire, and so on. When I did not complete these tasks, I often felt disappointment, even if unspoken, from myself and others. And even when I did complete these tasks, living up to people's ideas on What A Man Should Be and Do, the satisfaction I got was not pure. I did not always feel pleasure from "Manning Up." Instead I felt mixed.

On the other hand, when I do accomplish difficult deeds, when I push myself hard, when I support people and know they can depend on me, I do feel strong. I feel good. Are doing these things a sign of "manhood?" Do Other People know how best I should act, or do I? It's probably somewhere in-between.

Defining myself as a man, as a human, as an American, as a global citizen, is an ongoing process. Who am I and what am I? And when I am I different from what I am? In my own journals, and in this blog, I keep looking for these answers. Self-definition is a long road.

Finally, I want to end by posting a poem (stop groaning!). This a great poem, and a great look at masculinity, by one of the best American poets. This piece eloquently and musically speaks volumes about the difficulty, pain, and confusion of achieving "manhood." Here is Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays." Enjoy!

"Those Winter Sundays"

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

-Robert Hayden (1913-1980)

"Your Are Your Memories of You"

I am standing at the end of a small wooden pier, next to a pitifully small beach. It is a typical Northwest day: gray, clouded over, drizzling. I am cold, and tired from biking, and waiting for my dad, who, unlike me, DOES have a key, to get into the house. As I look off at Lake Sammamish my thoughts slowly leave the present and travel back, back in time. I have been on this pier before, I think. When I was a kid. And now, I am here again. Time is dissolving, as memory and reality swirl together. My body may be here but my thoughts may often be elsewhere, perhaps distant. It is a funny habit of our mind's, this traveling. And yet I am glad for it, for memory lets the past live again, and again, and more, until it hurts too much and we must return to the present. Ah, idleness. A blessing and a curse.

Lately when I have too much time to think do these temporal distortions occur. Usually, not so far back in time (a few months) but far in place. Namely, to a small, poor, little-known West-African nation that took my friends and I in for 6 months and showed us another place and another life and gave us a chance to wonder. What would I be doing right now were I in my village, I ask myself. Did that all really happen? And then the images of friends appear in my mind, friends whom I may never see again. And yet, their memory lives on. I carry them with me. That is not enough but it is all, so I must be thankful. I am trying.

We flow in and out of time's stream, backwards and forwards, defying "rational" linear limits, in our search for emotional truths. Past happiness beckons to us and we float back, leisurely. If not careful, we may lose ourselves. For a time, perhaps, And really, how bad is it to be lost? I spent most of the last 6 months in Niger "lost" and it was one of the best things that I've gotten to experience. But, to all things a season. Onward, onward. To new horizons! New jungle underbrush to confuse me and test me and drag screaming to the surface the best that I have in me. I am thankful for all that I may experience, and how I will grow from it. And am grateful to be able to recognize this.

One path finished, but many others will be open. Just need to know where to look. And, from my time living and working in Niger, I think I am better able to do just that.

The Post I Could Never Write in Niger

Hi friends. I am back in the U.S.A. right now, currently in the town I grew up in, Redmond, Washington. After we were evacuated from Niger (click here) I traveled a little, spending a week in Rome and then up to England, to visit my sister who is studying abroad there. But now I'm back, and from a computer at my mother's pristine, modern apartment I write this. Being back, so much sooner than I expected and in circumstances I never could have imagined is overwhelming me. Life is too easy here, I feel. There are too many goods, all of them so easily available. I keep converting prices of things I buy from dollars into CFA (Niger currency) and wondering at much even these small amounts could provide so much for the people of Niger. Meals at restaurants here could give food for my neighbor family for a week, or more. And, looking at my pictures, I am saddened, thinking of the friends and co-workers and kids I left behind.

Recently, I have been looking back at the posts from this blog I made in Niger, and am not content. I did not provide details on so much of my experience in Niger. Specifically, I didn't describe the outrageous poverty, sickness and overall desolation that we all confronted on a daily basis. So, let me just say: yes, hunger and disease and LACK were everywhere. The hospitals in my village were missing all sorts of basic supplies. The schools didn't have chalk, textbooks, desks, teachers, etc. Hunger was just a reality. And many of the Nigeriens I met were quite open about talking of these facts. But as to why I could not write it, I wonder if I just had to normalize these harsh facts in order not to have my spirit crushed as a daily occurrence. Or was my apparent acceptance of these painful realities a sort of heartlessness? Did I not care enough, and if not, why not? Does one just become numb to it all? These are some of the questions I have been asking of myself. The title of this blog entry refers to all that in Niger that, for whatever reasons, I couldn't write about. I'm trying.

Related to that, one of my best friends in Niger, a very sage man, often discussed with me these sorts of questions. We talked about our Peace Corps work in Niger, and wondered about its value. One of his ideas that he spoke of was what one could call "The Unity." By this, he means our connectedness with every object in the universe. Too often we think of ourselves as separate from our environment and everything we interact with, but this is wrong and unsatisfactory, according to him. And once we realize this connection, our lives change- we see things completely differently, and wish goodness for all we see. That's probably not the greatest paraphrase, but, meh. There's a great book on this: The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are, by Alan Watts. Check it out, if it doesn't sound too crazy! Also, Walt Whitman in "Song of Myself" has some great thoughts on this. Amazing poet!

A further challenge I am facing is how to apply what I learned while living in Niger to my life here. How does one live simply, frugally, when one is presented often with so much plenty? Supermarkets and bookstores I have visited make me feel a little crazy. I just want to buy it all, so much more than I need. Why? WHY WHY WHY? However, I am trying to stay busy. I am looking for some volunteer opportunities in the area. Also, it would be good to find ways for me to practice my French. And I kind of want to take a dance class. We shall see! For work, my boss at my old tutoring job has graciously offered me some part-time work tutoring kids in English, so there is something to do! Thank the Lord!

If you see me (and I hope to meet up! friends are so important) please have patience. Much has passed. Thank you. I am looking forward to seeing you, friends! Still no phone though, so shoot me an email: david DOT metting AT gmail DOT com

-David

P.S.- Here's some of my favorite pictures I took while in Niger

If we knew the future then life wouldn't be very interesting, would it?

The last week has been one of the most emotionally intense in a long time. A week full of good-byes: to Niger, to Peace Corps (for now), and many friends. A week of uncertainty, which will continue; for, if I do re-enroll in Peace Corps, I don't know when I would be leaving or where. However, I am lucky that we have this option, because I still want to volunteer with Peace Corps.

Even with the hardships in Niger, being there, sharing life and working with the Nigeriens, was one of the best things I've ever experienced in my life. I felt so fortunate to be there. And it ended so abruptly, with so many loose threads. Who knows I'll ever be able to return; I hope so.

On the one hand, I am happy to be seeing my family and friends again soon. Being so far away has made made it clear how precious those relationships are. I'm also wondering how we've both changed. And if they'll want to listen to everything I have to tell them.

Morocco has been lovely- clean, modern, mild weather. The streets aren't dirty and there aren't emaciated farm animals wandering the streets. Oh, Niger. Rome should be amazing. I plan on seeing: the coliseum, the forum, the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the Protestant Cemetary (Keats and Shelley are buried here!). And more. Just aimlessly strolling the ancient streets should be great. Some good time to reflect on all that has passed, and is soon to come.

I know I'll be coming back a different, but stronger person. 6 months ago I would have been too scared to travel in Europe alone; now, off I go! Niger has shown me how I could do things I never thought possible. Like living without electricty or water; being crazy sick; not speaking English for weeks at a time; being the foreigner; being away from my home. I'm thankful for this experience, and hope I continue to have more like it.

I land in Seattle on February 8th. Be ready! Many stories and pictures. Be well, friends. Through all this turmoil I am still safe and calm and happy, and grateful for everything I get to experience and feel. That, I think, is the best way to live!