Friday, May 23, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Earth Day
Why is a blog originally devoted to prose and visual art taking a more obvious stance on environmental concerns? Or, alternatively, are these things really all that different?
I don't want to turn this forum into yet another manual on 'how to live green' (books which are processed, rather ironically, most often on virgin paper and printed by the tens of thousands - filling another market niche for the uninitiated), but I do want to defend my beliefs, especially when it comes to my future graduate research, which will closely combine America's consumerism habits with our potential future for food sustainability.
Anyway, what this is about is Earth Day 2008 (April 22) http://ww2.earthday.net/
The New York Times over the past few weeks has written a series of articles under the umbrella title 'Food Chain', most of which can be found at www.nytimes.com/foodchain - along with media, photo albums, and other information - and they're useful, especially when studying how American food production (and that of the first world) effects other countries. But the one thing that has been only lightly touched upon is the slowly evolving differences in food intake and desires. After living in Niger for 14 months, I was able to witness first hand how a third world country changes its views of what and how it eats in the era of mass globalization.
Niger, landlocked and bound by Africa's Sahel, has for hundreds of years subsisted on a rather simple diet of pounded grain with some form of sauce, vegetables, and proteins (usually in the forms of meat - goat and sheep most commonly - and milk). The grain most often used in Niger is millet, a hearty and substantial crop that generally has high yields even under grueling circumstances. And Niger offers its crops many grueling circumstances.
The grain is nutritious and filling and has made the bulk of Niger's diet for most of known history. How it arrived in country Jared Diamond can answer better than I, but it is in the past few years that several factors have decreased consumption (willingly and unwillingly) of millet in Niger nation-wide. One is the changing consumption interests of Nigeriens themselves; the other is climate change.
Desertification is a process by which the desert itself does not expand, but the arid land around the borders of the desert loses its nutrients and fertility. The Sahel, the broad band located directly below the world's largest desert, the Sahara (see last month's National Geographic for a great article about the Sahel and how it affects people who live on it and near it), is quickly undergoing a transformation, losing some aridity to the desert here or actually becoming greener there. Niger, in what some call a mild success story, has actually become greener (use this word liberally) in the past 30 years, primarily through the efforts of Peace Corps workers and NGOs.
But this re-greening of Niger has not led to greater food security in-country. In fact, many of the most widely publicised famines in Niger have all taken place in this exact time frame. Why is this?
The re-greening of Niger has primarily occured due to changing farming practices. Most farmers, following the procedure of their fathers and grandfathers, would burn most of the shrub and bush on their fields prior to planting season, which generally occurs from June to September. These months are the only time rains will fall in Niger. In the past three decades or so, farmers have learned the benefits of nitrogen-fixing trees and plants and have started to leave them in their fields. These trees also have the added bonus of helping stop erosion.
Some varieties, like the gao, require very little water and drop their leaves at the beginning of farming season, creating a mulch-like compost on the sand where the young millet is growing. Through efforts by Peace Corps volunteers many gaos have been planted in Nigerien farmers' fields. Farmers, specifically in the National Geographic article, have stated that they're going back to even more ancient forms of agriculture.
So Niger turns more green and the land boosts greater fertility because of all these trees, right? Unfortunately no. In most of the country the rains have decreased with such ferocity that this has resulted in a landslide of fewer crops. Ali, age 35 or so, a friend of ours in our village, Killaloum, stated that when he was a child, enough rain fell each rainy season for two harvests. Now, in 2007, hardly enough rain fell for one.
Nitrogen-fixing crops like cowpeas and peanuts grow exceptionally well, but few Nigeriens make them the core of the diet, preferring millet or sorghum or, more recently, pasta, rice, and wheat. As globalization introduces new foods into Niger's diet and tastes turn toward the luxurious (and in Niger pasta and rice is luxurious), the crop that once fed the nation due to its heartiness and sustainability falls in popularity, as does field research towards it.
The recent riots in Cairo at bread seller stands only reinforce the idea that the globalization of the food industry - or, more specifically, introducing global foods into systems that cannot support them - is causing great amounts of damage. If Cairo cannot grow the wheat to make into bread, how can getting its population hooked on this product result in a better-fed, healthier nation? If Niger becomes fond of rice - which it can only grow in its southwesternmost corner, along the Niger river - and pasta - which it does not produce at all - how can the people feed themselves if international reserves of these two things become unattainable due to supply or cost? If, for hundreds of years, Niger subsisted on a diet primarily of millet, sorghum, beans and peanuts, isn't that because, environmentally, that was what they could easily produce?
Niger has many problems facing it in the years ahead. Its population, already well above 13 million, grows at roughly 3% per year. Roughly two percent of its population is literate. As temperatures rise and the fertility of its land falls, how will the estimated population of 2025 (which is now being called at 25 million) support itself? It certainly won't be on rice and pasta.
Anyway, to bring this post to a close, celebrate Earth Day, do what you can, and here's one little tip: the days are getting warmer. Invest in a clothes line and dry your clothes outside. Tumble dryers are the SUVs of the household, gobbling up energy and giving nothing back. Thanks, New York Times!
I don't want to turn this forum into yet another manual on 'how to live green' (books which are processed, rather ironically, most often on virgin paper and printed by the tens of thousands - filling another market niche for the uninitiated), but I do want to defend my beliefs, especially when it comes to my future graduate research, which will closely combine America's consumerism habits with our potential future for food sustainability.
Anyway, what this is about is Earth Day 2008 (April 22) http://ww2.earthday.net/
The New York Times over the past few weeks has written a series of articles under the umbrella title 'Food Chain', most of which can be found at www.nytimes.com/foodchain - along with media, photo albums, and other information - and they're useful, especially when studying how American food production (and that of the first world) effects other countries. But the one thing that has been only lightly touched upon is the slowly evolving differences in food intake and desires. After living in Niger for 14 months, I was able to witness first hand how a third world country changes its views of what and how it eats in the era of mass globalization.
Niger, landlocked and bound by Africa's Sahel, has for hundreds of years subsisted on a rather simple diet of pounded grain with some form of sauce, vegetables, and proteins (usually in the forms of meat - goat and sheep most commonly - and milk). The grain most often used in Niger is millet, a hearty and substantial crop that generally has high yields even under grueling circumstances. And Niger offers its crops many grueling circumstances.
The grain is nutritious and filling and has made the bulk of Niger's diet for most of known history. How it arrived in country Jared Diamond can answer better than I, but it is in the past few years that several factors have decreased consumption (willingly and unwillingly) of millet in Niger nation-wide. One is the changing consumption interests of Nigeriens themselves; the other is climate change.
Desertification is a process by which the desert itself does not expand, but the arid land around the borders of the desert loses its nutrients and fertility. The Sahel, the broad band located directly below the world's largest desert, the Sahara (see last month's National Geographic for a great article about the Sahel and how it affects people who live on it and near it), is quickly undergoing a transformation, losing some aridity to the desert here or actually becoming greener there. Niger, in what some call a mild success story, has actually become greener (use this word liberally) in the past 30 years, primarily through the efforts of Peace Corps workers and NGOs.
But this re-greening of Niger has not led to greater food security in-country. In fact, many of the most widely publicised famines in Niger have all taken place in this exact time frame. Why is this?
The re-greening of Niger has primarily occured due to changing farming practices. Most farmers, following the procedure of their fathers and grandfathers, would burn most of the shrub and bush on their fields prior to planting season, which generally occurs from June to September. These months are the only time rains will fall in Niger. In the past three decades or so, farmers have learned the benefits of nitrogen-fixing trees and plants and have started to leave them in their fields. These trees also have the added bonus of helping stop erosion.
Some varieties, like the gao, require very little water and drop their leaves at the beginning of farming season, creating a mulch-like compost on the sand where the young millet is growing. Through efforts by Peace Corps volunteers many gaos have been planted in Nigerien farmers' fields. Farmers, specifically in the National Geographic article, have stated that they're going back to even more ancient forms of agriculture.
So Niger turns more green and the land boosts greater fertility because of all these trees, right? Unfortunately no. In most of the country the rains have decreased with such ferocity that this has resulted in a landslide of fewer crops. Ali, age 35 or so, a friend of ours in our village, Killaloum, stated that when he was a child, enough rain fell each rainy season for two harvests. Now, in 2007, hardly enough rain fell for one.
Nitrogen-fixing crops like cowpeas and peanuts grow exceptionally well, but few Nigeriens make them the core of the diet, preferring millet or sorghum or, more recently, pasta, rice, and wheat. As globalization introduces new foods into Niger's diet and tastes turn toward the luxurious (and in Niger pasta and rice is luxurious), the crop that once fed the nation due to its heartiness and sustainability falls in popularity, as does field research towards it.
The recent riots in Cairo at bread seller stands only reinforce the idea that the globalization of the food industry - or, more specifically, introducing global foods into systems that cannot support them - is causing great amounts of damage. If Cairo cannot grow the wheat to make into bread, how can getting its population hooked on this product result in a better-fed, healthier nation? If Niger becomes fond of rice - which it can only grow in its southwesternmost corner, along the Niger river - and pasta - which it does not produce at all - how can the people feed themselves if international reserves of these two things become unattainable due to supply or cost? If, for hundreds of years, Niger subsisted on a diet primarily of millet, sorghum, beans and peanuts, isn't that because, environmentally, that was what they could easily produce?
Niger has many problems facing it in the years ahead. Its population, already well above 13 million, grows at roughly 3% per year. Roughly two percent of its population is literate. As temperatures rise and the fertility of its land falls, how will the estimated population of 2025 (which is now being called at 25 million) support itself? It certainly won't be on rice and pasta.
Anyway, to bring this post to a close, celebrate Earth Day, do what you can, and here's one little tip: the days are getting warmer. Invest in a clothes line and dry your clothes outside. Tumble dryers are the SUVs of the household, gobbling up energy and giving nothing back. Thanks, New York Times!
Monday, April 7, 2008
Extremely Important Info about America's Small Farms
I never read the Hightower Lowdown before, though apparently Jim Hightower did speak at Gettysburg College a few years back and basically transformed Dickson from carnivorous distance runner to mild-mannered vegetarian. Anyway, a recent article on his webpage ( http://www.hightowerlowdown.org/node/1364) explains the antagonistic forces at work on America's small farms - the threat of the National Animal Identification System. Please read this and do what you can to help save America's threatened agricultural heritage.
And while you're at it, check this out as well, from Gourmet Magazine!
http://www.gourmet.com/magazine/2000s/2008/04/farmbill
And while you're at it, check this out as well, from Gourmet Magazine!
http://www.gourmet.com/magazine/2000s/2008/04/farmbill
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Pennsylvania
The sun is setting over Pennsylvania. I haven't seen the streaks of bright orange across a translucent blue sky in a long time, cold harsh deep blue gray clouds streaked across the scene and large tall silhouetted pine trees are heaving in heavy winds. It is towards the end of March but feels and has felt wintry all day. I saw flurries this afternoon when I sat in the sunroom, a green thick blanket wrapped around me as I typed while Harriet said, no less than three times, to "Ignore your father and just turn the heat on already!"
But it felt good to be warm in a blanket instead. I don't want something pumped out of pipes - not yet at least. I want the natural feeling that was the only favorable part of living in Niger. Remember picking our own lettuce? Or the vegetable seller down the street from the hostel with his onions and tomatoes spread out on mats on the ground?
The wind in Niger didn't blow as consistently fiercely as it does here in PA. Here the wind is an entity. It speaks. The trees mutter with it, acquiese to what it wants. How does something 20 feet tall bend to the will of something we can't even see? But they do - a whole line of them, big strong Pennsylvania pines swaying rhythmically and strong to the gusts that are screaming outside the glass. It's a welcome back to America wind. It's a wind that doesn't exist is Niger. It's a northeastern American wind, a wind that I grew up with and didn't realize until now.
The orange streaks continue to hold on, not letting go of their small and decreasing strip of horizon until they must, until they're run out of town by another night of darkness and cold. I'm glad I came back at the end of winter; I like cold weather, how brisk everything feels. I like how it enters your nose when you step outside and you sneeze, how it makes water run out of your eyes and you become blinded by upper western hemisphere winter sun. I love this feeling. It's so temporal, so unlike summertime. I like my winters painful to a certain degree; the same with my summers. I like experiencing seasons because they change. I like watching it and living it and breathing it in. I like watching the last strips of orange finally give up and fade away.
Cold outlines of pine trees become spooky at night, when they dance against a gradated and indefinite blue sky. Why didn't I realize Pennsylvania for what it was before? It's an odd state, the eastern part full of mountains and rocks. Dad explained that over the course of millenia it formerly was the part of Africa that broke off and smashed into what it now North America - the crash resulted in eastern PA's odd and off-putting terrain. The geological makeup of eastern PA is different from the west. Where I was born and raised was part of Africa several million years ago. How odd that I'd go back there again for 14 months, only to return to PA and feel the same feelings again. The sky is now completely dark; the trees are hardly visible against a sky so deeply blue I haven't seen anything like it in months. Welcome back to America, I say to myself. God it feels good to be home.
But it felt good to be warm in a blanket instead. I don't want something pumped out of pipes - not yet at least. I want the natural feeling that was the only favorable part of living in Niger. Remember picking our own lettuce? Or the vegetable seller down the street from the hostel with his onions and tomatoes spread out on mats on the ground?
The wind in Niger didn't blow as consistently fiercely as it does here in PA. Here the wind is an entity. It speaks. The trees mutter with it, acquiese to what it wants. How does something 20 feet tall bend to the will of something we can't even see? But they do - a whole line of them, big strong Pennsylvania pines swaying rhythmically and strong to the gusts that are screaming outside the glass. It's a welcome back to America wind. It's a wind that doesn't exist is Niger. It's a northeastern American wind, a wind that I grew up with and didn't realize until now.
The orange streaks continue to hold on, not letting go of their small and decreasing strip of horizon until they must, until they're run out of town by another night of darkness and cold. I'm glad I came back at the end of winter; I like cold weather, how brisk everything feels. I like how it enters your nose when you step outside and you sneeze, how it makes water run out of your eyes and you become blinded by upper western hemisphere winter sun. I love this feeling. It's so temporal, so unlike summertime. I like my winters painful to a certain degree; the same with my summers. I like experiencing seasons because they change. I like watching it and living it and breathing it in. I like watching the last strips of orange finally give up and fade away.
Cold outlines of pine trees become spooky at night, when they dance against a gradated and indefinite blue sky. Why didn't I realize Pennsylvania for what it was before? It's an odd state, the eastern part full of mountains and rocks. Dad explained that over the course of millenia it formerly was the part of Africa that broke off and smashed into what it now North America - the crash resulted in eastern PA's odd and off-putting terrain. The geological makeup of eastern PA is different from the west. Where I was born and raised was part of Africa several million years ago. How odd that I'd go back there again for 14 months, only to return to PA and feel the same feelings again. The sky is now completely dark; the trees are hardly visible against a sky so deeply blue I haven't seen anything like it in months. Welcome back to America, I say to myself. God it feels good to be home.
Cows Grazing In The Rumpus Room
I'll be starting grad school in August, getting a doctorate in American Studies from the University of Maryland. My focus will revolve around foodways (google it), and while I have not yet collected my thoughts into a cohesive enough pattern to start espousing either serious reports or thoughtful witticisms, here's a link to an article I found totally and completely thrilling today in the NYT.
http://arieff.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/03/19/cows-grazing-in-the-rumpus-room/index.html
Maybe things are turning around. Reclaiming wasted suburban sprawl space and reintroducing agriculture, sustainable development, and natural habitats is... words can't describe how wonderful it is. It's just wonderful. Wonderful wonderful wonderful.
Also interesting is SAGE, Edible Estates, and the growing containers atop apartment buildings. We don't need to let everything be taken away from us, let ourselves be shoved into these atrocious little plastic houses, and call it a day while America loses everything that once made this wildly sprawling country unique. Bring back heterogeneousness. Bring back locational differences, regional foods, culture that's unique and interesting and isn't covered in Targets and Wal-Marts and Cucina Italiano's. I need to stop before I become inane. But read the article. Seriously. It's good.
http://arieff.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/03/19/cows-grazing-in-the-rumpus-room/index.html
Maybe things are turning around. Reclaiming wasted suburban sprawl space and reintroducing agriculture, sustainable development, and natural habitats is... words can't describe how wonderful it is. It's just wonderful. Wonderful wonderful wonderful.
Also interesting is SAGE, Edible Estates, and the growing containers atop apartment buildings. We don't need to let everything be taken away from us, let ourselves be shoved into these atrocious little plastic houses, and call it a day while America loses everything that once made this wildly sprawling country unique. Bring back heterogeneousness. Bring back locational differences, regional foods, culture that's unique and interesting and isn't covered in Targets and Wal-Marts and Cucina Italiano's. I need to stop before I become inane. But read the article. Seriously. It's good.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sleep and the Sleeper
Thoughts on sleep and the sleeper in two cultures - America and Niger.
Sleeping in America is like sleeping in a tomb. Sleep in America is respected, a thing not to be disturbed, that, given that it mostly occurs at nighttime, people generally do together as a population, forming a consensus - "this is the time that we sleep and this is how we treat both the act of sleeping and those who sleep."
From the beginning of our lives sleep is respected, especially the sleep we do as babies. "Be quiet, the baby is sleeping" - what a cliched thing to say, but important in that it shows decisively American attitudes about sleep and the one doing the sleeping. When a baby sleeps the child is respected; to wake the baby is a faux-pas, something punishable by nature (or by parents). Babies are watched over as they sleep, either in person or via monitor. A baby's sleep is considered so peaceful and complete that to say that one slept "like a baby" is considered symbolic of getting a good night's rest.
The act of being quiet while others are sleeping continues on throughout life. It is considered rude to make a lot of noise at night "because people are sleeping" - loud music or wild parties can portend having the cops called to shut down the merrymaking. Even a nap justifies silence in the house - if someone, especially the pat/matriarch says that they are going to take an afternoon nap, the house quiets down: children move downstairs to play, the volume on the television gets turned down, and people lower their voices or whisper so as not to disturb the sleeper.
Nighttime is a peaceful time in most of America, especially in purely residential areas. Nightclubs and bars are an exception which people allow for, knowing that there are specific places allotted for nighttime activity which thus excuses the preponderance of music, noise, etc. For the most part, a suburban street at night is a quiet place, one where too much disturbance or noise warrants a phonecall to the police or a head poked out the window to see what all the trouble is about. Even animals are forced to abide by the code of quiet - barking dogs at night are considered a nuisance and owners are castigated for allowing their animals to act up during the generally agreed upon quiet time, rather than having greater control over their pets (which are, in the American sense, their personal responsibility).
In Niger none of these attitudes hold sway. Sleep does not necessitate peace or quiet, control or structure, for either humans or animals. And again, this behavior generally gains its momentum and force in childhood, which, I believe, forms the basis of belief for the entirety of a lifetime's worth of attitudes about both sleep and the sleeper.
Nigerien families are large, and women are often caring for more than one very small child at a time. Children too young to walk are tied to the mother's back with a strip of cloth (called "goyo" in Hausa), with both arms and legs bound within the cloth and thus inaccessible to the child. If a baby's face is covered with mucus and flies, the baby can't do anything about it and learns to tolerate flies walking all over its skin, in its eyes and ears, and up its nose. I've noticed this behavior in adults as well - flies are simply tolerated and rarely swiped away, and I believe that this, like attitudes toward sleep, has much to do with the constant exposure to insects as a child. The mother rarely wipes the flies from the baby's face.
This position, behind the mother and tightly bound, also influences the child's sleeping patterns. Being a new mother to a young child does not excuse the woman from any amount of work, and the daily strenuous activities of life must be completed even with a small child strapped to her back. Thus the child, besides becoming inured to flies and insects, also becomes accustomed to sitting (and sleeping) through its mother's varied movements - the pumping motion of using the well, walking long distances in the hot sun to gather firewood and supplies, the pounding motion of mashing millet into flour. And given that young babies sleep most of the day anyway, the child quickly learns to sleep in a strange position (basically sitting upright) while experiencing strange movements, often in very loud and noisy environments (the well is especially noisy, or while the woman is working and socializing with her friends).
Thus the most obvious sleep-related difference between Americans and Nigeriens is this: American childhoods necessitate peace and quiet during sleep, and this practice is reinforced by the child's parents, while Nigerien children experience great amounts of both movement and noise while sleeping. I believe that these practices influence how both Americans and Nigeriens view sleep and the sleeper for the rest of their lives.
Another large difference between American and Nigerien sleeping habits can be best summarized in one word: religion. Only about 1.5% of Americans are Muslim, while roughly 95% of Nigeriens are Islamic practicitioners. Islam dictates five daily prayers, the first of which occurs well before daybreak and is proceeded by a broadcast call (usually via loudspeaker) to rouse practitioners from their sleep and urge them to either come to the mosque or perform at home the first of their daily prayers.
Because nearly everyone is Muslim in Niger, it is not considered rude or inappropriate to blast a prayer call at 5 or 5:30 in the morning to the entirety of a town or village's populace; indeed, it is a tenant of their religion. Either because Americans are not wholly Muslim or due to their respect for both multiple religious practices and the early morning sleep of its residents, this practice of early AM prayer calls is simply not popular or overly acceptable in American culture.
Several theories may lead to why most Nigeriens use night as the time to make noise and socialize, the first of which is the extreme heat that engulfs Niger most of the year and for most of the day. At night, when temperatures become more comfortable, men are more interested in staying up and socializing with friends (women are generally not allowed out of the house at night and remain within the concession after sunset). Men may also feel that they rest enough during the day (naps are not an uncommon way to pass the day's hottest hours) to avoid sleeping the bulk of the night, or that prayer call comes so early in the morning that, after staying up late talking with friends, sleep may only cause them to miss the first prayer of the day.
The final reason I have found why most men do not sleep during the sleep, or sleep considerably less than what I am accustomed to, is that most people in Niger do not own beds or mattresses and usually sleep on the ground, on benches, or on thin woven mats. This is not particularly comfortable and most men avoid sleep except when absolutely necessary. Most find sitting on a mat while talking with friends to be more comfortable than laying on the same mats and trying to sleep, though some will nap throughout the night while friends are still sitting up conversing.
The idea of noise at night is also not considered overly strange or rude. Dogs bark unabated at night because most dogs are feral and have no owners that take specific responsibility for them. Chickens, roosters, and donkeys wander through villages and make noise as they may. Conversers are never castigated for being too loud. It is simply not a cultural norm to "be quiet, someone is sleeping", especially since sleep patterns are so varied. Thus, nighttime in Niger can seem incredibly noisy for Americans, especially if one sleep outdoors, which the majority of Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) do year-round.
As far as opinions about different sleep patterns are concerned, I have heard several Nigeriens state that they believe Americans sleep too much, that we "need" 10-12 hours of sleep a night, and that Nigeriens are "stronger people" because they need considerably fewer hours of rest. What they do not realize, however, is that most PCVs retire early in the evening because it allows them a chance to relax and recuperate after a long day spent navigating the waters of a foreign culture. Additionally, the time is often spent entertaining oneself, an activity markedly absent in Nigerien culture, doing such things as reading and writing letters (only 2% of Nigeriens are literate), listening to the radio, or making work plans. Finally, all PCVs have both a bed and a mattress, making sleep a far more comfortable option as a way to spend the evening.
Sleeping in America is like sleeping in a tomb. Sleep in America is respected, a thing not to be disturbed, that, given that it mostly occurs at nighttime, people generally do together as a population, forming a consensus - "this is the time that we sleep and this is how we treat both the act of sleeping and those who sleep."
From the beginning of our lives sleep is respected, especially the sleep we do as babies. "Be quiet, the baby is sleeping" - what a cliched thing to say, but important in that it shows decisively American attitudes about sleep and the one doing the sleeping. When a baby sleeps the child is respected; to wake the baby is a faux-pas, something punishable by nature (or by parents). Babies are watched over as they sleep, either in person or via monitor. A baby's sleep is considered so peaceful and complete that to say that one slept "like a baby" is considered symbolic of getting a good night's rest.
The act of being quiet while others are sleeping continues on throughout life. It is considered rude to make a lot of noise at night "because people are sleeping" - loud music or wild parties can portend having the cops called to shut down the merrymaking. Even a nap justifies silence in the house - if someone, especially the pat/matriarch says that they are going to take an afternoon nap, the house quiets down: children move downstairs to play, the volume on the television gets turned down, and people lower their voices or whisper so as not to disturb the sleeper.
Nighttime is a peaceful time in most of America, especially in purely residential areas. Nightclubs and bars are an exception which people allow for, knowing that there are specific places allotted for nighttime activity which thus excuses the preponderance of music, noise, etc. For the most part, a suburban street at night is a quiet place, one where too much disturbance or noise warrants a phonecall to the police or a head poked out the window to see what all the trouble is about. Even animals are forced to abide by the code of quiet - barking dogs at night are considered a nuisance and owners are castigated for allowing their animals to act up during the generally agreed upon quiet time, rather than having greater control over their pets (which are, in the American sense, their personal responsibility).
In Niger none of these attitudes hold sway. Sleep does not necessitate peace or quiet, control or structure, for either humans or animals. And again, this behavior generally gains its momentum and force in childhood, which, I believe, forms the basis of belief for the entirety of a lifetime's worth of attitudes about both sleep and the sleeper.
Nigerien families are large, and women are often caring for more than one very small child at a time. Children too young to walk are tied to the mother's back with a strip of cloth (called "goyo" in Hausa), with both arms and legs bound within the cloth and thus inaccessible to the child. If a baby's face is covered with mucus and flies, the baby can't do anything about it and learns to tolerate flies walking all over its skin, in its eyes and ears, and up its nose. I've noticed this behavior in adults as well - flies are simply tolerated and rarely swiped away, and I believe that this, like attitudes toward sleep, has much to do with the constant exposure to insects as a child. The mother rarely wipes the flies from the baby's face.
This position, behind the mother and tightly bound, also influences the child's sleeping patterns. Being a new mother to a young child does not excuse the woman from any amount of work, and the daily strenuous activities of life must be completed even with a small child strapped to her back. Thus the child, besides becoming inured to flies and insects, also becomes accustomed to sitting (and sleeping) through its mother's varied movements - the pumping motion of using the well, walking long distances in the hot sun to gather firewood and supplies, the pounding motion of mashing millet into flour. And given that young babies sleep most of the day anyway, the child quickly learns to sleep in a strange position (basically sitting upright) while experiencing strange movements, often in very loud and noisy environments (the well is especially noisy, or while the woman is working and socializing with her friends).
Thus the most obvious sleep-related difference between Americans and Nigeriens is this: American childhoods necessitate peace and quiet during sleep, and this practice is reinforced by the child's parents, while Nigerien children experience great amounts of both movement and noise while sleeping. I believe that these practices influence how both Americans and Nigeriens view sleep and the sleeper for the rest of their lives.
Another large difference between American and Nigerien sleeping habits can be best summarized in one word: religion. Only about 1.5% of Americans are Muslim, while roughly 95% of Nigeriens are Islamic practicitioners. Islam dictates five daily prayers, the first of which occurs well before daybreak and is proceeded by a broadcast call (usually via loudspeaker) to rouse practitioners from their sleep and urge them to either come to the mosque or perform at home the first of their daily prayers.
Because nearly everyone is Muslim in Niger, it is not considered rude or inappropriate to blast a prayer call at 5 or 5:30 in the morning to the entirety of a town or village's populace; indeed, it is a tenant of their religion. Either because Americans are not wholly Muslim or due to their respect for both multiple religious practices and the early morning sleep of its residents, this practice of early AM prayer calls is simply not popular or overly acceptable in American culture.
Several theories may lead to why most Nigeriens use night as the time to make noise and socialize, the first of which is the extreme heat that engulfs Niger most of the year and for most of the day. At night, when temperatures become more comfortable, men are more interested in staying up and socializing with friends (women are generally not allowed out of the house at night and remain within the concession after sunset). Men may also feel that they rest enough during the day (naps are not an uncommon way to pass the day's hottest hours) to avoid sleeping the bulk of the night, or that prayer call comes so early in the morning that, after staying up late talking with friends, sleep may only cause them to miss the first prayer of the day.
The final reason I have found why most men do not sleep during the sleep, or sleep considerably less than what I am accustomed to, is that most people in Niger do not own beds or mattresses and usually sleep on the ground, on benches, or on thin woven mats. This is not particularly comfortable and most men avoid sleep except when absolutely necessary. Most find sitting on a mat while talking with friends to be more comfortable than laying on the same mats and trying to sleep, though some will nap throughout the night while friends are still sitting up conversing.
The idea of noise at night is also not considered overly strange or rude. Dogs bark unabated at night because most dogs are feral and have no owners that take specific responsibility for them. Chickens, roosters, and donkeys wander through villages and make noise as they may. Conversers are never castigated for being too loud. It is simply not a cultural norm to "be quiet, someone is sleeping", especially since sleep patterns are so varied. Thus, nighttime in Niger can seem incredibly noisy for Americans, especially if one sleep outdoors, which the majority of Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) do year-round.
As far as opinions about different sleep patterns are concerned, I have heard several Nigeriens state that they believe Americans sleep too much, that we "need" 10-12 hours of sleep a night, and that Nigeriens are "stronger people" because they need considerably fewer hours of rest. What they do not realize, however, is that most PCVs retire early in the evening because it allows them a chance to relax and recuperate after a long day spent navigating the waters of a foreign culture. Additionally, the time is often spent entertaining oneself, an activity markedly absent in Nigerien culture, doing such things as reading and writing letters (only 2% of Nigeriens are literate), listening to the radio, or making work plans. Finally, all PCVs have both a bed and a mattress, making sleep a far more comfortable option as a way to spend the evening.
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