Well, I have finally finished my week plus of walking (more like hiking) around Sikoro, literally wandering into people’s homes and asking them to partake in my questionnaire. It was interesting, to say the least, and very, very hot (in the upper nineties everyday… how is it November?). I’m lucky enough to have a wonderful translator, Souleyman, who is a joy to be around… lucky because I’ve spent five hours with him every day for the past week and a half.
My survey consisted of a dozen or so questions about where families get their water for both drinking and utilization (cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc.), how long it takes to collect the water, who does the actual collecting and how many times a day, where the families dispose of their solid waste, and how they empty out their pit latrines when they are filled up. Listening to people’s grievances about obtaining water is not easy. It is especially difficult for those living on the top of the hill, for the closest water source they have is a well located relatively high up, but by no means near the top, and the potability of this water is questionable. Not only that, but carrying buckets of water up the steep hills is truly unimaginable for me, since it was really a struggle without a load. Families at the bottom of the hill, where it is crowded but there are more water sources, face huge problems with lines at the public faucets: it can take them several hours to collect their water even if they live 100 yards away. The problem is worsened exponentially during the dry season (March-May), when most wells dry up and the faucets are sometimes cut off during the daytime hours, and thus families can only obtain their water between midnight and five in the morning.
Trash pick-up is a bit less of an issue, thanks to PACAPSI, the NGO with which I’m working. They’ve supplied a lot of the GIEs (private enterprises that charge small fees to take care of trash pick-up since the government doesn’t do it) with suitable equipment, like working tractors and new shovels (as opposed to the donkey and cart routine), and have organized them to provide for different sectors and all charge the same price, as opposed to competing with each other. However, because the state of the roads is so bad in areas of the neighborhood, GIEs cannot access a number of households (notably those on the top of the hill, where there literally is no road access).
Today I met with the mayor of Sikoro. A soft-spoken, sweet man, he lamented to me about just how hard his job is. There are a lot of things he wishes he could do, and that he knows he should be doing, but that he simply does not have the funds. He explained that Sikoro is not high on the government of commune 1’s list of priorities, so he is hardly given anything financially. He also said that the commune government “has not put a cent” into bettering the sanitation of the neighborhood. No wonder PACAPSI faces such hurdles.
Living in Sikoro is going well. My family is not the friendliest, but I do have my own room and I’m a five minute walk away from PACAPSI. Also, there’s an American NGO in the neighborhood and I run into their workers nearly every day, so it’s really not too lonely. It’s also a nice change to live on the north side of the Niger River, where all of the action takes place.
I cannot believe today is Thanksgiving. I’m meeting up with the other girls in the program for dinner tonight; those that went away to different cities are now back and I’m looking forward to seeing them and eating well! The fact that it’s turkey day is a rude awakening that I now have less than three weeks in this country… it’s really upsetting since I finally feel like I have my bearings. I guess that just means I’ll have to come back!
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