Oh, what a crime if you had thrown those garments away! I was wracking my brain as I read to think of places that might take them and very relieved to learn that you found a good home for them. (Since I live with a fiber/textile person, I knew who to ask about garments.) Your description of your work in Niger is deeply interesting. I just want to know more. Thanks for this wonderful piece.
Hi..or Sannu. I spent two summers (1962 abd 1965) in Northern Nigeria. The first with Operation Crossroads, the second studying Hausa. I so enjoyed your Niger narrative..of course, my Hausa skills are long gone. I can still do a few greetings, and recall the old men in gatherings, saying, quietly " To, to, mandala, madala"
Increíble story, lovely clothes! I must admit I am hanging onto all my memorable things. I and my extended family are EXTREMELY sentimental about all of it. I have Aunt Catherine´s African basket( Belgian Congo)hanging on my wall. A lace armchair doily that Juan´s mother made is mounted on a plywood circle covered with a piece of cloth given me by a South African friend. Well, you get the picture. I have gotten rid of junk, given away lots of books (paperback science fiction, mystery etc..not real books) I know all your books and archives present a real challenge since they are of historical value and interest. And please, please keep telling us about your Peace Corps memories. I for one had NO idea of this part of your life and I would love to hear more.
Hello Katherine, (As my English seems no longer good enough and your French is too far, I prefer to use Google translation, but I am ashamed because it is not a very satisfactory method)
I have to tell you this article has awakened many memories in me… What a period and what strong moments we have all experienced! The sandy desert, the heat, the poverty… But also the beauty of the people, their culture, their kindness. To be honest, I no longer remembered that you were asked to dress like Africans to work! I knew this was strongly discouraged in other humanitarian organizations because they believed it was inappropriate and not very credible for the local populations who saw it as a disguise more than as a sign of respect. I remember, on the other hand, your T-shirt "Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous” who was not Nigerian! I was VP (French Volunteer) at the Agadez hospital appointed as a nurse radiologist and you were a Peace Corps in Aderbissinat as a hygienist, and thanks to you I was able to have friends in both communities. For their health mission, the two associations showed different approaches. The French insisted on the technical competence of their volunteers in well-defined positions. Americans preferred human presence and benevolence more than diplomas. But, if it’s truth that you were more naïve, you were also more respectful of the civilization of the host country: true democrats! We, French people, had a recent heavy colonial past in this country and Africans always remained big incompetent children for us: not very respectable! If I could go back to the past, I would be more human, nicer! As you were in fact! An important part of our youth is sleeping in this garment! So, above all, do not throw it away!
Hi Cathy, Thanks for sharing these wonderful thoughts from your time in the Peace Corps. I'm glad to see you are still in touch with Olivier Le Glaunec; I know he used to live in one of the apartments in the compound where I lived, but I can't remember if he was still there when I moved there in Dec. 1976. At that time there was another French volunteer living in that apartment named Daniel Herisse, and an American missionary in the third apartment named Jack Lesshafft. We all got to know the Sultan of Agadez because he was our landlord. There were some Peace Corps volunteers living in Agadez across from the police headquarters, Lee and Barb Morgan, and another Peace Corps volunteer named Steve Harris. And I remember several other French volunteers in Agadez. We had a wonderful community of ex-pats. My fieldwork was way out west of there, in the camps around In Gall, but it was the custom for researchers to rent a place in town and make extended trips to "the bush." I wore Tuareg clothing once in awhile. I found it difficult to get around in the panya, and I felt embarrassed that my Tuareg clothing was all new and pretty, and the people I lived with often had clothing in tatters. I finally decided to just wear what I was comfortable with, my short sleeve shirts, tee shirts, and khakis or jeans. I camped with the family of the male and female chiefs west of In Gall, and they came to accept me as I was. The female chief, at one point, told everyone in all seriousness that my clothing was modest because I kept my legs covered. I didn't have any medical expertise, either, except for a Red Cross badge from Girl Scouts, and a course at Columbia on recognizing and treating tropical illnesses (for which we were prescribed a big package of prescription medicines and medical supplies). But Tuaregs saw that I had medicines with me that worked for respiratory diseases and cuts, and that made me a resource, along with rides to town and a place to stay in Agadez. Fortunately no one ever asked me to assist at a childbirth, although there were a couple of close calls. Here in the US I still have loads of things the Tuareg people gave me as gifts, including dozens of people's well-worn tobacco pouches. A museum would not be interested in these old worn-out household items, since they usually want things in presentable shape for a potential exhibit. It gives me comfort to look at them and remember the warm, wonderful people who gave them to me. Downsizing has been hard. But I've been donating bags of clothing and household goods to Big Brother Big Sister when they come by with their truck. Your blog is fun to read and I enjoy reading others' memories, too.
Really makes it come alive. I've heard that story many times. But seeing it with images and your description is priceless!
Oh, what a crime if you had thrown those garments away! I was wracking my brain as I read to think of places that might take them and very relieved to learn that you found a good home for them. (Since I live with a fiber/textile person, I knew who to ask about garments.) Your description of your work in Niger is deeply interesting. I just want to know more. Thanks for this wonderful piece.
Hi..or Sannu. I spent two summers (1962 abd 1965) in Northern Nigeria. The first with Operation Crossroads, the second studying Hausa. I so enjoyed your Niger narrative..of course, my Hausa skills are long gone. I can still do a few greetings, and recall the old men in gatherings, saying, quietly " To, to, mandala, madala"
Increíble story, lovely clothes! I must admit I am hanging onto all my memorable things. I and my extended family are EXTREMELY sentimental about all of it. I have Aunt Catherine´s African basket( Belgian Congo)hanging on my wall. A lace armchair doily that Juan´s mother made is mounted on a plywood circle covered with a piece of cloth given me by a South African friend. Well, you get the picture. I have gotten rid of junk, given away lots of books (paperback science fiction, mystery etc..not real books) I know all your books and archives present a real challenge since they are of historical value and interest. And please, please keep telling us about your Peace Corps memories. I for one had NO idea of this part of your life and I would love to hear more.
Yaya aiki? Aki da godiya. Ka sauka lafiya..lafiya lo..Na gode..haka haka, maza, maza
This may be it..
Hello Katherine, (As my English seems no longer good enough and your French is too far, I prefer to use Google translation, but I am ashamed because it is not a very satisfactory method)
I have to tell you this article has awakened many memories in me… What a period and what strong moments we have all experienced! The sandy desert, the heat, the poverty… But also the beauty of the people, their culture, their kindness. To be honest, I no longer remembered that you were asked to dress like Africans to work! I knew this was strongly discouraged in other humanitarian organizations because they believed it was inappropriate and not very credible for the local populations who saw it as a disguise more than as a sign of respect. I remember, on the other hand, your T-shirt "Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous” who was not Nigerian! I was VP (French Volunteer) at the Agadez hospital appointed as a nurse radiologist and you were a Peace Corps in Aderbissinat as a hygienist, and thanks to you I was able to have friends in both communities. For their health mission, the two associations showed different approaches. The French insisted on the technical competence of their volunteers in well-defined positions. Americans preferred human presence and benevolence more than diplomas. But, if it’s truth that you were more naïve, you were also more respectful of the civilization of the host country: true democrats! We, French people, had a recent heavy colonial past in this country and Africans always remained big incompetent children for us: not very respectable! If I could go back to the past, I would be more human, nicer! As you were in fact! An important part of our youth is sleeping in this garment! So, above all, do not throw it away!
Regards and kisses from old Europe
Hi Cathy, Thanks for sharing these wonderful thoughts from your time in the Peace Corps. I'm glad to see you are still in touch with Olivier Le Glaunec; I know he used to live in one of the apartments in the compound where I lived, but I can't remember if he was still there when I moved there in Dec. 1976. At that time there was another French volunteer living in that apartment named Daniel Herisse, and an American missionary in the third apartment named Jack Lesshafft. We all got to know the Sultan of Agadez because he was our landlord. There were some Peace Corps volunteers living in Agadez across from the police headquarters, Lee and Barb Morgan, and another Peace Corps volunteer named Steve Harris. And I remember several other French volunteers in Agadez. We had a wonderful community of ex-pats. My fieldwork was way out west of there, in the camps around In Gall, but it was the custom for researchers to rent a place in town and make extended trips to "the bush." I wore Tuareg clothing once in awhile. I found it difficult to get around in the panya, and I felt embarrassed that my Tuareg clothing was all new and pretty, and the people I lived with often had clothing in tatters. I finally decided to just wear what I was comfortable with, my short sleeve shirts, tee shirts, and khakis or jeans. I camped with the family of the male and female chiefs west of In Gall, and they came to accept me as I was. The female chief, at one point, told everyone in all seriousness that my clothing was modest because I kept my legs covered. I didn't have any medical expertise, either, except for a Red Cross badge from Girl Scouts, and a course at Columbia on recognizing and treating tropical illnesses (for which we were prescribed a big package of prescription medicines and medical supplies). But Tuaregs saw that I had medicines with me that worked for respiratory diseases and cuts, and that made me a resource, along with rides to town and a place to stay in Agadez. Fortunately no one ever asked me to assist at a childbirth, although there were a couple of close calls. Here in the US I still have loads of things the Tuareg people gave me as gifts, including dozens of people's well-worn tobacco pouches. A museum would not be interested in these old worn-out household items, since they usually want things in presentable shape for a potential exhibit. It gives me comfort to look at them and remember the warm, wonderful people who gave them to me. Downsizing has been hard. But I've been donating bags of clothing and household goods to Big Brother Big Sister when they come by with their truck. Your blog is fun to read and I enjoy reading others' memories, too.