Welcome back. It’s been a while since my last blog. I hope you enjoy.
-A Long Day-
It is a common occurrence for the employees of certain trades to go on strike. This, apparently, is a worldwide phenomenon. Last month, taxi drivers went on strike. Since taxis make up the vast majority of public transportation, such a strike was quite problematic. A few weeks ago, the drivers who bring gas and diesel into our landlocked country went on strike and brought much of Niamey, the capitol city, to a grinding crawl.
At the time, I was staying with my friend, Dave, and his family, and we heard the news of the gas shortage. We were sharing a vehicle, and the arrow was hovering just above ‘e’– ‘e’ for empty not for engorged. We arrived at a station and pulled into the back of the line behind about 20 cars. There were several hopeful customers, but the station was active, and many faces were smiling. We were encouraged. We waited about 90 minutes and were 5th in line. This wouldn’t be an all-day affair after all. Then, a smiling attendant informed us that they no longer had gas.
We drove across town and found a station that had no gas but was supposed to have gas in 30 minutes. We left, visited friends and returned about an hour later. The station still had no gas but was supposed to have gas in 30 minutes. We waited. We didn’t know how long the shortage would last. We played Scrabble on Dave’s phone. We waited. A few hours later, I looked into the rearview mirror and saw a tanker pull into the station. In a few minutes, the pumps were ready. Since we had been waiting for a few hours, we were first in line. Great, the day was long, but now it’s over, and it has ended with gas. The nice manager (I call her nice because when we first arrived, she offered to siphon a few liters of gas from her motorcycle so that we would be able to drive home) informed us that there was a $12 dollar limit. That amounts to about 3 gallons. So, got our allotment away we went.
We had missed lunch, and I was content to go home. However, Dave has not yet given up his American stubbornness and was determined to succeed fully. We drove around on our 3 gallons of gas which had become 1.5 gallons and found another station where a tanker had apparently just arrived. Awesome, we wait in one more short line for about an hour, get a full tank, claim success, and return home to eat and go to bed. The pumps became operational and the attendants manned their posts. However, by this time, a small army of motorcycles had descended upon the station and encamped around the pumps. The cars in line had been waiting much longer than the cyclists. A conflict ensued. The cyclists only wanted a small amount and thus thought that they should be served first… but there were about 50 of them and the number was growing every moment. The station manager wanted to serve the cars first because they had been waiting longer and represented a better profit. The motorcycles refused to move and the attendants refused to pump. After an hour of discussion, one woman on her moto absolutely would not move. The attendants struck a deal with the cyclists that they would serve the woman first and then serve all the cars. This seemed to make everyone happy- at least one of their number would succeed. The woman received her gas and off she went. Well, during the negotiations with the cyclists, a unit of pedestrians armed with gas containers seeped between the motorcycles and ambushed the pumps. The cyclists had been appeased, but the pedestrians demanded fuel and would not move. The attendants would not pump.
Night was well upon us, and I had had enough. I finally persuaded Dave to surrender. He got into the car, and I directed traffic as we untangled ourselves from the jumble of cars, motorcycles, and people. We had spent more than 7 hours looking for gas. We parked the car and walked toward the house. “Well,” said Dave, “at least this will make a good story for a newsletter.” I smiled, “Yes it will, a good story.” In great African ironic justice, Dave got gas the next morning in about 15 minutes while taking his kids to school.
-Niger Life-
Life in Niger is going well. I have moved into a house and have been able to hire two guards. Petty theft in Niamey can be a problem, but joblessness is a greater problem. The amounts in the wage system here are not great, and so I can afford to employ two people. There are several trees around the house which I hope will provide shade during the hot season. I have an eggplant in my flowerbed. That’s kind of funny. Who plants an eggplant in their flowerbed?
I have an African friend who has not been a Christian very long. Pray for him as he faces unique difficulties in his life. In Niger, freedom of religion is protected by law, but it is not always culturally acceptable. To change one’s religion is to violate the family tradition. The one who leaves the family religion indicates that he thinks of himself as wiser than his ancestors. Pray for my friend. He is having trouble finding a job, and he tells me that a religious leader from his village occasionally appears and causes him problems.
There is a large missionary community here in Niamey. The children of these missionaries face unique cultural situations. If you are interested, you can google the term ‘third culture kid’. Many of these kids enjoy there lives but others become discouraged. The normal challenges of developement are often compounded by the reality that they face as missionary kids. Please pray for these kids.
Harvest season in Niger has begun. Millet, a small grain that grows on the outside of a woody stalk, is the mainstay crop in Niger. Most Nigeriens live in the village where life has changed very little since premodern times. Village life really is a fascinating look into the culture of humanity. These people eat millet three times per day. Due to the historic rainy season, many farmers are seeing an extremely strong crop. One farmer, a participant in a fertilizer program, said that the extra rain and the quality fertilizer allowed him to progress from 5 bushels last year to 70 this year. With refugees from Mali and Libya, this bumper crop could not have come at a better time. However, Niger is still a poor country, and someone is always in need of food. Pray that the farmers who have extra grain will be willing to share with those who do not. Sharing is a very cultural behavior in Niger; members of the village take responsibility for other members. This year’s good crop should be a blessing for everyone. But, saving for next year is not cultural. Africans are often focused only on the present. Pray that these farmers will have the wisdom and insight to store up grain in case next year’s rains are not so plentiful.
The temperatures here have dipped into the 90s during the day. A man recently told me, “The cold of Niger has arrived.” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
Blessings upon you, and all your camels.
Jeremy
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