Boy Scout hike

My dad is a Boy Scout troop leader and organized a 5-mile hike on monday. I went with them to interact with the Scouts and took some photos.

Walking through the characteristic sandy soil of our area:


We saw a couple of monarch caterpillars (they make their cocoons on milk weed):


Having a little talk about safety:


This area behind me had been wiped out in a wildfire a couple years ago. It's already recovered quite a bit.


I would like to take this opportunity to announce my support in Ghana for the World Cup - go Black Stars!

Liz and Generations pics

I was at my friend Cathy's house, where we have our Grayling Peacekeepers meeting. She has an incredible hat collection, and I was particularly drawn to this hijab she got during her world travels. So I tried it on with my sweet Obama shirt that I made my buddy Issoufou give me.

Me, to Issoufou, in typical Nigerien fashion of shamelessly asking for things: "I like your shirt. Give it to me."
Issoufou: "okay, I will bring it to your house tomorrow."
Me: "I was just kidding!"
Issoufou: "I will still give it to you." The next day he brings it, sprayed down with a heavy layer of cologne rather than freshly washed.

Hadjia Crystal.


Okay, next is the dollar sign-shaped cupcake cake I made for work. We had an investment banking day and my boss recruited me to make a cake for it (she requested that it be in the shape of a dollar sign):


And then my friend Liz and I went to a bar in Roscommon. I know, not your first choice for excitement, but we had a blast anyway. Roscommon people can be pretty cool.

Here's Liz. I'm always telling people, "she can drink like a fish!"


Here we are together, trying to imitate one of those old-fashioned serious-people photos (Black Stockings used to live in her house, I believe they were the inspiration for this photo):


We were there to see the local band Generations and these creepy Canadian guys kept hitting on us. This guy was talking to Liz and asking her if she's a "local." And his buddy and I had a conversation where he insinuated that "all I have to do is wink at a guy and he'll know what I want." And he kept talking about his "very lucrative" business outside Toronto. Like that's what it takes to impress me. These guys were basically trolling and had no care whatsoever how ridiculous they looked. Here's Liz's guy, dancing with a different lucky gal:


The band was good, though. I met Logan and Al at Dharma Music while organizing Djam's Drum-building workshop in April.

Logan can talk to anybody and be charming. He's got great stage presence and is a natural performer.


Al is kind of quiet at times but is very charming and funny once you get to know him. He told us about the time he met Fred Bear and that was his introduction to life Up North.


I had just met Ron, he's the lead guitar of the group. He's actually really good and had me impressed with his ability to play Santana covers. Plus he and his wife raise horses and I like talking about animal husbandry with him (like I'm some kind of expert, lol).


Last but not least is Jake on drums. With his curls and charming smile he is like the Michael Jackson part of the Jackson 5 - the cute, young one for all the young ladies out there. But he's actually very talented and I loved hearing his solo act between sets.

Plan B

I've been doing some thinking.

As much as I love baking, and as wonderful as it is to flex my creative muscles doing it, I think I may put off pastry school yet again.

I've just been thinking about how much I love people and working with them. I've been told many times that I'm a natural teacher. I enjoy learning about other cultures and would like to see more of the world. And I just think there's something more out there for me than baking.

I think I will pursue becoming a TESL (Teaching English as a Second Language) teacher. Not only would I be able to visit other countries and learn about other cultures, but I could make some money at it, too. Returning to Africa to teach people English would just be the icing on the cake.

There's a program in Madison, WI (my old stomping grounds) that's only 5 weeks long and you get the certificate for TESL. I'm thinking of enrolling. It would be so sweet to be back in Madison and learning something new.

Niger Journal Entry #2

This is a continuation of my prior entry on attending Geerwol. As a Peace Corps volunteer I was lucky to have a latrine at my house in the village. Most people don't have this luxury and depend on using the bathroom either in the bush or behind the nearest tree.

Here's something I wrote while I was at Geerwol. Pooping in open public places and pooping in the bush can both be stressful. First, you gotta make sure you don't step on other people's poop that's already there. Then you have to make sure you can squat without people seeing you - if there's anything more exciting than watching a white person, it's watching a white person take a crap. I had a lot of experience in this area, hanging out with Darey and friends for days at a time with no latrine in sight.

If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I hope this guide helps.

Crystal's Guide to Pooping in the Bush

1. Find a spot not in eyeview of people and cars (duh!)
2. Plant feet so that they are uphill from your ass (this prevents bodily fluids from getting near your shoes.)
3. Remove a shoe and use it to make a hole or just scrape away sand.
4. Poop. Wash/wipe yourself, being sure to move back a little so you don't accidentally touch it.
5. Use a stick or your foot to kick sand on top. If you didn't poo in a hole, cover it just enough to keep flies away. You don't want to disguise it too well because someone could step in it before it dries. If you poo'd in a hole, fill the hole back in with dirt.
6. Wash your hand as well as possible in the circumstances.
7. Discreetly pull up your drawers/skirt. Get the hell out of there before someone sees you and greets you while your pants are down. [this happened to me a few times. awkward!]

Niger Journal Entry

This is from when I attended Geerwol in 2009. I was the only white person around. Sometimes being in these situations is stressful, because you don't understand what the other people are saying, and when you see things that are unique/different but that they are used to, you have no one to share the experience with. This can actually lead to loneliness while being surrounded by people. However, my journal kept me company.

In true Niger form, it was hot (over 100 degrees) with lots of sun and no chance of clouds. We were in the scrubby Sahelian land, which has only short, thorny Acacia trees that provide very little shade. Water is scarce, as there are no wells, so we brought a big 5-gallon jug with us. Other people got water from the nearby lake (which animals take baths in).

November 6, 2009. Geerwol.
Took Sonitrav bus to Abalak. Leave in evening to Bagam [the location of Geerwol, out in the bush] and car kept falling apart. We get there late at night.

Hear singing in Bagam which is Geerwol and it goes on all night. Dancers wear bent metal plate chained to one foot and stomp to make it rattle. I try to go to sleep but the tea I drank is strong and I get up and watch the dancing instead.



November 7.
Everyone is up at or before sunrise. I try sleeping in but once I wake up I can't go back to sleep. A scared camel creates a scene by running all around the camp and we watch a horse and camel (plus a big herd of people) chase it.

Early morning dancing and singing.


The camp. Imported western tents are set up as people in traditional robes lounge on mats, pouring tea, eating food, and hanging out with friends.


Chasing the runaway camel.




I love the giant herd of people running after it! You could hear the shouting from far away.


Singing and dancing in the heat of the day.


Now losing my mind because camera shutter piece is missing. [I let Darey's little brother, Bugo, borrow it to take some photos. He dropped it in the sand while the shutter was open, and the shutter got stuck.]

[About an hour later] Ok, it's OK now. [Managed to get the sand out of the shutter mechanism and it began working again, to my tremendous relief.]

Camels continue to entertain me. Just now another camel got frisky and started running around, but people managed to subdue it pretty quickly. And then I saw a guy who opened his headwrap, tied the end to the camel's nose ring, and used it to lead him.

[I drew a picture so I could remember it correctly.]

Soon I will watch Darey help get Bugo ready to dance!

[I didn't actually see that because I was napping, but here's a photo Bugo took of his friends getting ready.]


Darey and I. He's cleaning his teeth with a stick in this photo.



November 8.
Went to bed at 8 so I could get up to see Geerwol in the middle of the night. I woke up at 11 - it hadn't started yet. 2am - I woke up and struggled to stay awake. We left at 4, I think. [This was in reference to the Geerwol, the final dance where the finalists are chosen. The contest goes on for a week before this. The challenge is for the men to dance and sing all night and all morning, without drinking or eating anything.]

I saw women's hair in their profiles lit by the rising sun. The dancers became slowly visible. The old people hooted "woo hoo" as they studied the beautiful men.

The women.


Old ladies admiring the young men.


Soon the voters arrived. It was two beautiful, thin young women who held one hand to the side of their face as if to avoid being distracted by anything in their peripheral vision. The old men who constantly fuss over the contestants selected 8-10 finalists, and attached a tuft of white cow fur to their head. The women somehow indicated the winner and his tuft of hair was removed. The the crowd followed him out and away; to his house, I guess.

Attaching cow fur to a finalist.


The beautiful judges, who picked the winner.


We are having our morning tea and will leave for Teyiss later. Hopefully I will finally see Darey's actual house and cattle.

[and later, apparently a few thoughts I wanted to remember...]
Conserving water by not bathing. Now I understand why in the old days people only bathed once a week.
Camels grazing a few steps from the tent.
Baby horse!

In the Sahel it's hot, sunny, windy and arid. Being at the real Geerwol, which is the most traditional, one can see the warrior resemblance with the feather headdress, red face paint, makeshift "axe," and stomp dance which rattles the foot plate. [the word "Geerwol" means "war" in the Wodaabe language, Fulfulde.]