My Experience In 705 Words.

SEVERAL MONTHS AGO, I wrote an email to the Indianapolis Star from their website, asking whoever would be reading the message if he/she would consider publishing a column about my experience in Niger. Two weeks passed, and the email slipped from my mind. One morning, however, I received an email from a reporter who asked for a column. Cross your fingers, for the deadline was today, and if all goes according to plan, the following 705 words should be published August 12:

Two years ago, when I found out I would serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the West African nation of Niger, I had to consult an atlas since I had no idea where it was.
Now after living and working in the world’s second-poorest country, according to the United Nations Development Index, I could not imagine being anywhere else. This experience has shaped me and will continue to influence me long after I leave here next March.
I have learned countless, invaluable lessons here. As a health volunteer working specifically in the HIV/AIDS sector, I have learned how this epidemic affects Nigeriens’ lives. Thankfully Niger has one of the lowest infection rates in Sub-Saharan Africa—1.2 percent—but ignorance of the disease still abounds. Those raising awareness include Salifou Ibrahim, who announced that he was HIV-positive on national television, becoming the first Nigerien to publicly reveal his status. Though he showed remarkable courage, many who are infected still live in fear. AIDS is regarded as a death sentence, but the stigma should gradually change since life-prolonging anti-retroviral drugs are now available free of charge.
I have learned to communicate in two languages, French and Hausa, the most widely spoken language in West Africa. Though I mainly use French at work, my basic Hausa is indispensable when I go to market, for I do not get ripped off when I exclaim to an unsuspecting seller, “Haba! Rage mini.” Come on! Lower the price.
I have learned how powerful nature is. In a country on the edge of the Sahara, a desert roughly the size of the United States, Nigeriens annually struggle to grow enough food for themselves. In the villages closest to the desert, last year’s harvest was a disaster due to poor rains coupled with an invasion of locusts. Now more than three million people are facing a food crisis, surviving only on leaves and grass. Thousands of children are dying, and since the world has finally heeded the call for aid, the United Nations and other aid organizations are beginning to distribute food in the most ravaged areas.
I have learned how generous and dignified people can be. Despite the widespread poverty here, I have never witnessed such giving hearts. Villagers with next to nothing have invited me into their homes and fed me, expecting nothing in return.
I have learned how women can be second-class citizens in the world. In many villages, fathers marry off their daughters as soon as they are able to give birth. On average, women have eight children, the highest fertility rate in the world. The day after giving birth, they are back to work, nursing their newborn, pulling water from the well, and preparing the day’s meals. Women, especially in the developing world, do not get the respect and recognition they deserve.
Lastly, I have learned how small the world is. When I came to Niger, I believed that I had left behind everyone and everything I had ever known. I was proved wrong during my three-month training, when I met a volunteer who was the best man in a neighbor’s wedding.
The connections continued to surface. While shopping at Border’s at River Crossing, my mother asked an employee’s help in searching for African music. After displaying impressive knowledge on the subject, my mom asked him, “How do you know so much?” He replied, “I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Niger.”
Even in my wildest dreams I could not have concocted the next coincidence. In March, I met a volunteer who looked rather familiar. I did not place her until I was looking through mail at the Peace Corps office. My jaw dropped when I saw a letter addressed with an Indianapolis return address to Julie Snorek. (Who forgets a name like Snorek, really?) After emailing fellow Carmel High School graduates and former members of the Ambassadors, I confirmed the fact Julie and I had both danced onstage at Dale E. Graham Auditorium.
Two years ago I could not have told you the difference between Nigeria and Niger. But from now on, whenever I look at a world map, the world will seem much less foreign to me. And for that, I will be forever grateful.