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The people here have nothing and still give everything. The same family that had been drinking millet drink (no nutritional value) for all meals gave my parents their only rooster during their visit as a welcome gift. 

Maybe all this focus on community seems too confining for some, but when it comes to the inevitable end of this lifetime, I would rather be surrounded by friends than be recounting all the things I have accumulated. To quote from another Dave Matthews tune, those possessions “...pile up so tall to one big nothing, one big nothing at all.” 

If more people could experience being surrounded by smiling neighbors instead of those concerned with their latest car purchase, it would become clear to them that I’m the one living the “good life.”

The simplicity of my lifestyle here is what appeals to me. This simplicity allows me to focus on the things I want to learn about myself and those around me without the distraction of whatever the couple on some sit-com is having to work through. 

Enriched

 by Tiffany Martindale

Gothèye, Niger, West Africa has been my home now for two years and five months. I am a Peace Corps Volunteer, and early on in my service I came to realize that most of what I found myself living without was unnecessary. I don’t have electricity, running water or a car. I have learned a lot about the difference between real necessities and mere amenities, which all fall under the category of “modern conveniences,” making them unnecessary by definition. The ever-increasing tendency to rely more and more on such conveniences has made Americans soft. Over here, my biggest power concern is that my candles will melt in hot season. So, from February to May, I remain well stocked. The cost is insignificant, really, and a small price to pay to live in the wonderful ambiance of candlelight.

We Americans pride ourselves on setting a standard for the world to emulate. In some respects, we’re not such a prime example. We are the “land of ridiculous excess,” and with that excess comes enormous waste. I realize no one wants to go back to pulling buckets of water from the river or reading by candlelight, nor am I making that suggestion. But I think an argument can be made that the proliferation of amenities is part of the problem, not the solution.

Throughout my service, the following song lyrics by Dave Matthews have echoed time and time again: “What I want is what I’ve not got, but what I neeeeed is all around me.” Before coming to Niger, this meant not having a glass of cold milk or a chicken chimichanga. Now, I can understand that this attitude is a way of life for my neighbors here. Not having everything we want is not life threatening.

When I decided to extend my stay in Niger for another year (at least), it obviously was not because of delicious food or perfect weather, it was completely because of my relationships with the people. I have been exposed to such giving, kind hearted, interesting folk that I fear going home and getting stuck in the drone of American “success”. Before this gets misunderstood by patriots that see no room for improvement in our American culture, let me say that I am grateful for the opportunities available to me growing up in America. We are a well-fed, well-educated society, rich in the arts. However, the combination of my education and this most recent chapter in my journey through life provides me with the knowledge that there is much more to my happiness than whatever is being heavily advertised this week on the television. People here do not just give lip service to things like patience, giving, and family ties. Some of this is largely due to Islam and the giving nature of the religion. Other qualities can be attributed to the culture itself.

The people here have nothing and still give everything. The same family that had been drinking millet drink (no nutritional value) for all meals gave my parents their only rooster during their visit as a welcome gift. Nigeriens give approximately half of what they earn to their parents, or older relatives, before they start spending any of it. This is guaranteed social security, I guess. Money is lent out with no expectation of getting it back. It is presumably harder for wealthier Nigeriens to save any money for anything personal because so much of their money goes to asking friends and family. If someone asks you for something, and you have it, you give it. I have a lot of friends here who want to go to America to get money. When I ask them who they are going to stay with, or what they will eat, they say that they will just ask people. I try to explain homelessness, and they are dumbfounded. They cannot understand how people can turn down a stranger or friend in need. It sends me on a whirlwind tangent wondering about our society. Americans place so much importance on “every man for himself,” and admittedly that has produced a lot of nice things. But people here look out for each other, friend or not. This seems to have produced an extremely nice population of people. It makes me sad that I can’t even suggest that Americans open up to strangers due to issues of personal safety, another topic the people here cannot fathom.

After just over two years I have three families that would do anything for me, as I am truly their daughter. This is in addition to the number of friends that I have that would consider me their sister. The bond I formed with a clothing vendor because his daughter and I share the same name strongly resembles that of he and his real daughter. Because of this openness with family ties, each child has about ten sets of parents and older siblings. Children are raised to respect adults, and they actually do. The catch phrase of a few years back—It takes a village to raise a child—is a reality here. I realized I was a member of the community when my neighbor named their baby after me. I realized I was considered a family member when I overheard my mom here tell her youngest child to remind me that we needed sauce ingredients one day when I was headed for the market. If you are a stranger, everything is done for you. I felt honored that mom was using me to run an errand.

Maybe all this focus on community seems too confining for some, but when it comes to the inevitable end of this lifetime, I would rather be surrounded by friends than be recounting all the things I have accumulated. To quote from another Dave Matthews tune, those possessions “...pile up so tall to one big nothing, one big nothing at all.”

Believe me, I’m not a martyr. If anything, I have more selfish reasons for staying in Niger, not some romantic notion that self-deprivation is going to change the world. A man I met last weekend said to me, “You seem like an intelligent girl, with an engineering degree even, what would make you want to live over there?” I believe my intelligence is what causes me to want to live in Niger. I can imagine that he thinks I am wasting my life by volunteering my time and energy just to try to enhance a few people’s lives. He sees the lack of amenities and access to money as a threat to my happiness. (Actually, he feels it is a threat to his own.) I see the benefits to my lifestyle, not the sacrifices. Had he noticed my glow as I talked to him about it, he might have caught on. If more people could experience being surrounded by smiling neighbors instead of those concerned with their latest car purchase, it would become clear to them that I’m the one living the “good life”.

As I said, the most significant benefit of living in Gothèye is the relationships that I have formed. They are founded on the honesty required when people don’t speak a common language and can’t do anything but blurt out needs. As my language skills developed, so did the bonds with my “families.” I see the absence of material excess in our conversations and everyday lives as an open door to explore who we are and what we can contribute to each other as friends. We don’t get together to watch a movie, which minimizes interaction, we get together to sing and dance. We share about our families instead of worrying what people may think if we have a problem. There is less privacy and more connectedness to those around you. We are all here to grow and exchange life experiences, and by comparison, I now find most of my acquaintance level-relationships in America numbingly dull. Life seems to have more substance for me here where I am forced to face myself and my ability to exchange with those around me apart from the static of American life. This plays a large part in my belief that we are all meant to explore our entire web of existence.

The simplicity of my lifestyle here is what appeals to me. This simplicity allows me to focus on the things I want to learn about myself and those around me without the distraction of whatever the couple on some sit-com is having to work through. There is no element of suffering to endure so that I can say, “I was miserable in Africa for three years but I did it for the betterment of humankind.” I lived here, and signed on to continue living here, because I was able to sleep under the stars, know my neighbors intimately, and walk to the market. I probably will not spend my adult life exclusively in the States simply because I fear losing the clarity achieved by living life in a more uncluttered environment. In America we are continually bombarded by excessive stimuli, and to avoid it, I often feel like I would have to avoid the majority of the population. I would rather spend my time where I can enjoy the company of others and learn life’s lessons from our exchanges.

Additionally, I take pleasure in the connections to nature my lifestyle provides. I take bucket baths outside in the heat of the day, with water kept cool (even in 130 degree weather) by the natural properties of the clay pot in which I keep it. At night, bathing under the stars provides the view that some attempt to duplicate with the nifty glow-in-the-dark star sets sold at superstores everywhere. Growing my own garden has been my only source of certain vegetables during off seasons. There is something innately pleasurable about eating the fruits of one’s own labor. (Driving to the store to buy the can does not count as labor!) Walking to the market, or through town to send a message to a friend (there’s no telephone), allows me to take the time to observe new growth on the ground and changes in the scenery throughout the year. These walks allow me to greet people and learn the latest news in the neighborhood. Time spent in a car would never allow me these opportunities.

As I get ready to go back home to California for a month, I’m sitting here trying to think through how working with these people may have brought me closer to a realization of some ultimate truth. All that’s happening is I’m flashing on their faces and the knowledge that they love me as deeply as I do them and I am starting to cry. I miss them already. I certainly feel connected to them, but I can’t seem to put into words how. I have opened myself up to their stares, ridicule at not knowing the local language, and the expectations of handouts. Then later, their tears at the loss of a child, their joy at the arrival of my parents, their bragging that I can now hear the local language, their bedside manner when I am in poor health. I belong in their lives, and they have more than shaped mine. Here, I’ve let myself shed all those protective layers and just shared with the people of Gothèye what is genuinely me. They’ve received me as my family at home would. Three short years ago, these people didn’t know me from Eve.

Let me close by saying I certainly don’t claim to be better than anyone else at achieving this level of substance in my life. If I lived in America, retaining the benefits of my current lifestyle would be challenging. I fear I will lose this connection to what I feel is a much more fulfilling way of life. I can create a positive environment for myself anywhere, but the exchange between cultures and the mutual understanding of the importance of sharing knowledge is fast becoming a key element in my definition of happiness. I’m a little afraid of getting sucked into the downward spiral of thinking that material success is more important than it is and forgetting the amazing connection to self that I get from living in the simplicity of my life as it is now. To ensure that I remain always a student of life and eager to learn truths from all new opportunities, I intend to avoid settling into the traditional American Dream. Two cars, a dog, and a couple of kids, with a lack of community and connection to nature is too sterile for me. I’ve discovered that just smiling back at someone who is simply glad to see me each day can enrich me beyond words. It’s these subtleties that are obscured by the pace of life in the West. Unclouded by either a false sense of need or material excess, my life is more genuine at its essence.

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