Desert Gills

This is a picture from our 'alternative pool.' One of our friends here says that when she checks the thermometer in the house, if it's more than 90, she turns on the air cooler, and above 95 she heads to the pool with the kids. I was very fearful about how the heat would be here. We had read on one blog about some long-termer saying the only time he was comfortable here was in his air-conditioned car. September was tough because it was still hard to sleep at night, and our air-cooling equipment in Niamey was lacking. Now in the past month it has once again gotten pretty warm at night, but our swamp cooler has actually done a good job. March, April, May, June, is prime time for the swamp coolers, because they work by humidifying the air... once the rains come in July-September things cool off a bit, and anyway the air is not dry enough for them effective. But we have really appreciated our little unit: we're not as tough as the Africans I guess.

Hausa moms characteristically carry their sub one year-olds strapped to their backs. Its a universal practice within the culture: indeed, if I ask a mom if she could be pregnant, she will often say "No, I am goyo baya." Then they may point to their infant, sometimes with a quizzical look for the clueless white-man. I think the point is that I should have picked up on the fact that she is breast-feeding. In a similar vein: observers often laugh seeing me walk down the street carrying E strapped to my front with a Baby Bjorn. It just seems like a ludicrous inversion to them to see the husband carrying the baby, and on the front, and using an expensive contraption when I simple cloth would do. Goyo Baya is such a fundamental cultural concept here, that if you say you are goyo baya with someone, its an idiom meaning you agree with them. Saul is said to be 'goyo baya' with the murder of Stephen. In the contemporary translation... the more stately, antique translatio...

Its really endearing how chummy Ir and E are... that is, when they are in a good mood and *especially* when being chums means postponing sleepy time. So when we put them down for nap or bedtime together, we often let them chat together for a while until they wind. Don't ask me what they are chatting about because E's sounds aren't very intelligable. Anyway, we were really touched once to find them like this... E's face still pressed against the crib where he had fallen asleep giggling with his big sister.

  The compound pool opened this weekend, and while its one of those little round things that takes two strokes to cross, my kids talk about it all the time like it's an Olympic-size delight. But they don't exactly inspire confidence with their swimming abilities. I mean, picture Ir and E... the little arm floaties I managed to survive on as a kid are not nearly enough for these modern day water warriors... oh no: my kids have to have the latest in floatation safety, with foam built into their bathing-suits like body armor. Here are my kids, bobbing on top of the water that (generously estimating) is two feet deep, clinging desperately to their giant inflatable floaty, and screaming at me to hold them with both arms.