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Summer 2007
Our adventure began when Robert came out from Philadelphia
to Los Angeles so we could start production on our documentary yet
to be titled (now it’s Niger ’66: A Peace Corps Diary).
We had been inspired to make the film after we’d recorded the
famous “drive-way” interviews at the reunion in Santa
Rosa in 2005.
Believe it or not we seemed to be a bunch of interesting
characters, or at least we had interesting stories to tell! After
forty years we were still passionate about our time in Niger and
our friendships with each other. Maybe it was the heat—we don’t
know for sure. But this fascination and commitment just doesn’t
seem to go away. So, what were two old filmmakers going to do? The
obvious—make a movie. I say “old filmmakers” with
the kindest of sentiment. Our friendship started when we lived next
door to each other in Niamey for about a year, back in 1967.
Our first victim, here in LA, was Michael Parrish.
I must say he looks rather handsome sitting in that window overlooking
our city. Of course we used a soft light on all of us—it helps
with the age and gives a twinkle in the eyes. We never did figure
out how to take the soft light apart. I got it at USC, along with
the sound equipment. So, we left it set up and put it on the backseat
of my 1989 Acura Legend for three weeks. A little bulky but then
the trunk would soon be filled with everyone’s memorabilia
from Berkeley to Vancouver, B.C.
Robert was a great organizer and the Legend had a
huge trunk. I say “had” because when we returned from
twenty-one days on the road she was on her last leg. First one of
the headlights fell down—so it was aiming at the ground in
front of the car. This first happened in the mountains, near Mount
Shasta, at night. Then the heat on Interstate 5 during the day was
unbearable—so the radiator lost it. Finally we rode in on the
spare tire. After I took Robert to the airport to go back to Pennsylvania,
I went to my mechanic and he sent me straight to Alhambra—wherever
that is—and I traded her in on a 2003 Acura. I did get $1000
for the old girl. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
After Michael’s interview we went to San Luis
Obispo, a wonderful beach town north of Santa Barbara. There we
interviewed Jake Feldman, the very first Peace Corps volunteer—ever!
He was the first one to send his acceptance telegram back to Washington.
The Peace Corps sent him to Tanganika in 1961. So he got to be in
the photos with Kennedy & Shriver, shaking their hands. He’s
a cool guy. These first vols were all engineers—there were
no girls in that group—they were each sent out solo to work
with NGO-types to build national highway system.
Jake was assigned to a group of Italians, who had
brought their own chef from Italy. They sat down to dinner with
tablecloths every night and played opera—a far cry from Diffa.
He and his lovely wife made us an incredible dinner and great beds
to sleep in. This kind of hospitality came to be what we expected
for the rest of our West Coast trip—and we weren’t disappointed.
Next, we went to Berkeley where we stayed with Joan
Musante & Kjell. We took Joan out to Fort Funston to do an interview
with her about that gruesome place, and to talk to her about the
married couples dorm. The old fort is still awful. I don’t
believe it’s been inhabited since we were there. For certain
no other PC group was trained there. Of course, the wind was howling
and that made it impossible to do an outdoor interview. (Remember,
Joan used to do sound for films). So, we went back to balmy Berkeley
and cooked a great meal.
Next we tormented Ellen Varmus. She had played a good
game of tennis just before we got there, so was in good form. We
let her drink white wine, and the interview is great; of course,
she gave us some wine too. By the way, all the interviews are great.
Janice Gulley showed us her wonderful slide show from Goudamaria,
so we confiscated her slides as well. This was the beginning of
stuffing the trunk.
The next day we went into The City—you know,
San Francisco. There we interviewed Sandra Poysa, Sandy to us old-timers.
She now lives with Jim. She gave us some fabulous wine from their
vineyard, along with her photo albums, and a great interview—but
not in that order. Then it was time to move on. So we packed the
car and headed to Bob & Gayle Reid’s.
We roomed there for a few of days, interviewing both
of them, plus Marietta; we had a great outdoor dinner chez Reid
with Marietta & Don & other volunteers from the Santa Rosa
area: Joel and Pam Neuberg and Rich Letinen. I loved shopping with
Gayle and going to all the farmers’ stands in their area. Local
food is the best. Bob wasn’t too happy that I put him in front
of his red pick-up truck for his interview, but then he recalled
that he had lived in it for a while in San Diego when he returned
from Niger! How did I know? I won’t reveal all that Gayle tells
us on camera so that you can be surprised in the final film. Don’t
forget that the trailer is 10 minutes, but the final film will be
75 minutes with many more stories.
Then it was time to head to Deanna McDermott in Oregon.
What a beautiful drive, along the California coast to the Oregon
coast. We had good directions to Joe & Deanna’s house but
didn’t quite expect the dense forest. There was a place to
park and then walk over the suspension bridge; there is a photo
of us on that bridge in the photo section here. No cell phone reception
up there but Deana was waiting for us with a great BBQ. Robert slept
in the tree house, on the edge of a cliff. The compound is an amazing
place that Joe & Deana built and raised two children in. Another
great interview. She was nervous but we didn’t give her anything
to drink—we had to walk that bridge again!
Portland was our next destination. I don’t think
that I’d ever met Jack Norman but since he had been stationed
in Diffa, I had to interview him. You can see from the trailer it
was a good idea. He gave us all his slides and the best strawberry
shortcake in the world. After squeezing more into the trunk of the
car we headed to Seattle.
Robert had told me that this was his hometown and
that his mom was there and he wanted to spend five days with her.
I didn’t really know Mike Meighan very well, but had asked
him if I could stay at his place during this time. So Ma & Pa
Kettle were re-born. Every night Mikey—that’s what I called
him after three days—sat in the Barcolounger and I sat in the
rocking chair; we talked for hours. Each day we drove down to the
docks (he lived in West Seattle at the time), ate seafood and drank
a beer, and took the ferry across the harbor.
Then Jic Clubb arrived. Wow, a real blast from the
past. We did some interviews in Seattle with both guys and then
all headed to Bellingham to interview Buck & Jack. Check out
the photo of us all on the photo page. There is a good story about
a frozen turkey, but that’s for later. Needless to say we have
great footage from both of these towns and their characters.
I’d never been to Vancouver, B.C. before. Oh,
what a beautiful city. We went up to interview Guy Immega who had
done under-grad studies in electrical engineering before joining
PC. With this skill, he could help restore the hospitals in Maine-Soroa
and N’Guigmi. The French had left them in terrible shape when
they vacated after independence in 1961. Again, a great interview
and wonderful place to spend the night. Guy’s wife, Gayle,
is a lawyer and quite a chef. So we sat on the deck eating dinner
and looking at the views of Vancouver. Just lovely. Then the trip
back to LA and the torture Robert went through for five days scanning
everyone’s memorabilia into the computer—thousands of
photos! He’s my hero.
Spring Break 2008
I went to Philadelphia so we could do more interviews.
Actually, it’s Chester, Pennsylvania, a small city just outside
Philly. Rafe Bencid had agreed to meet us there so we picked him
up at the airport; it seemed like yesterday since we’d seen
each other, even though it was forty years!
After a wonderful time with Rafe, we drove to New
York City and interviewed Kathy Gilbert. We loved her home and I
love her new hair-do. After that, it was a long drive to Boston,
to interview and stay with Pearl Robinson for the night. Neither
of us had ever met her, but Sandra & Kris White spoke so highly
of her, we had to do it. We were not disappointed. She is a professor
and the head of African Studies at Tufts University. She has bought
a beautiful house in Jamaica Plains that she is restoring. Robert
and I had the most beautiful bedroom, with twin beds that we were
getting used to—wait to hear about the Tahoua motel when we
went back to Niger last fall. With Pearl, we went to the most delicious
vegetarian restaurant I’ve ever been to.
We returned to Chester and interviewed Alvin Turner,
just down the road in Delaware. I think I met him twice in Niamey
in 1968, but I hardly remember. Now when I go back to Chester, he
& Robert & I get together and talk endlessly about Niger.
Then we drove to interview Allen Webb in St. Michaels, Maryland,
not far from Washington, DC. Another thoughtful and gracious returned
volunteer, with good stories about the Peace Corps of today.
Fall 2008
Now it seemed time to return to Niger. So I called
Sandy (Sandra) to talk about returning. I found out she & Jim
had already made plans to go to Niamey over Thanksgiving break!
So, Robert & I rounded up the troops, including Mike Meighan
and Michael Parrish, and we made our plans. I asked a young cinematographer
at USC, Rob Connolly, to come along to shoot. Robert had his camera,
and we took a second camera from USC. Voila! We went.
Well, we went after many, many weeks of dealing with
visas to take equipment in to the country, vaccinations, travel
arrangements, outreach to Peace Corps Niger, etcetera. Much time
was spent dealing with the Head of Communications in Niger. He is
the same dude who is now closing TV & radio stations in support
of Tanja! He had to sign off on everything we wanted to do. But
we did it. I had been in touch with Mary Abrams, the Director of
PC in Niamey, Arifa Tidjani and Gaston Kaba all summer before we
went. As it turned out Mary was going to be in the U.S. the same
three weeks we were going to be in Niamey. Amazingly, she gave us
her home and cook, Boniface, for this whole time.
Oh, dear, this was incredible. So Mikey & Michael
& Robert & Rob & I ate breakfast and dinner together
every day. Yes, I was there with two Michaels and two Roberts. Sandra
& Jim were at the plush Grand Hotel. And for lunch we would
go around to le Toulousan, the bar in the sand owned by a Frenchman
from Toulouse, and ate steak & frites & downed a few gin
& tonics—walking in a foot of red sand with goats all around,
sitting in chairs on the sand, under beautiful neem trees and umbrellas
… with lots of Nigeriens ...very cool.
In between breakfast, lunch and dinner, we had to
produce a movie. This couldn’t have been done without Gaston.
Fortunately I’d taken three semesters of French at USC, to
brush up; and even more fortunately, Gaston speaks English perfectly.
I had been relying on Robert to do most of the talking in French
but his plane was delayed in Philly so he was two days late. I had
no luggage, and neither did he, when he finally arrived. But I had
my cell.
As it turns out you can, with AT&T telling me
how, pull out your SIM card and replace it real cheap in Niger and
have your own phone number. Then you buy the cards, cheap again,
and voila! You can talk. But you must speak in French, and I could
do it! Gaston took me to the streets outside PC headquarters and
we made it all happen. Then he lined me up with volunteers in country
who helped me find the well-baby clinic and well sites. A current
volunteer, named J.T. Simms, really helped in this. Yippee!
Two days before we arrived, Arifa Tidjani returned
to Niamey from two years with the Red Cross in Zinder. Remember,
Tidjani had been our youngest trainer at Fort Funston. He had come
home with me to Fresno for the two weeks between training and going
to Niger. He came to know my family well. I hadn’t seen him
in forty years, but it was just like yesterday. (Except he shaves
his head now). He is the head of thoracic surgery at the university
and national hospital in Niamey. He married a woman from Goudamaria,
his home town, and reminded us that Kanouri men usually marry just
one woman and have only three children. He has the three children.
You will delight in his interview.
Then it was time to go en brousse. Gaston helped secure
a 4-wheel drive company and we headed out in two vehicles to find
the women’s clinic and well; both were north of Madaoua. We
had two fabulous Taureg drivers and bounced up and down for many
days, eating en route and sleeping in Birni N’Konni, at a fabulous
motel. Don’t believe anyone who tells you the Route Nacional
is paved—it is partially paved—just outside Niamey. But
who cares? Just being there, on the road again, looking out the
window and seeing the landscape. It was joyous. And imagine when
we saw a school breaking for lunch and little girls came out with
the boys. It’s mandatory that girls go to school now. We were
all very happy.
After videotaping Sandra at the clinic and Michael
at the well north of Madaoua, we headed to Tahoua. There was a volunteer
in the small village of Kehehe, on the road to Agadez, that I wanted
to interview. Kelly McNicholas had been working for two years in
public health and about to go home. The motel in Tahoua was horrible.
Owned by a famous filmmaker! Again Robert and I were in twin beds,
this time with one sheet each. But you didn’t need a sheet
because it was so hot. Mold was growing on the ceiling and the cracks
in the toilet and sink…well, just like the old days. But it
had the best shower because it took up the whole bathroom and came
down on your head, as well as on the toilet and sink, and made you
feel so clean. Without soap, of course. One sheet, one towel, no
soap and wet toilet paper.
The road to Kehehe was marvelous. It’s where
we found the watering hole you see at the end of the trailer. Tuareg,
Fulani, camels, sheep, goats, horses, donkeys, women, men, children,
gorgeous nomads everywhere. We spent a long time there, in heaven.
Some things haven’t changed—the good things I believe.
When we returned to Niamey it was my 65th birthday
and Mikey had Boniface make a birthday cake made for me. Then it
was Thanksgiving and Sandra & Jim & their friend Doug came
to dinner. I had told Boniface that Robert was a vegetarian and
he made the most incredible Vietnamese spring rolls. He made vegetarian
food every day. I would be a vegetarian if I had a cook—it
takes a long time to prepare. There are fresh vegetables and gorgeous
lettuce in the Petite and Grande Marches every day now. And Boniface
makes a mean salad dressing.
Upon returning to Niamey we interviewed Gaston and
Assaloma Sidi, the former Associate Peace Corps Director for Education
in Niger. With Gaston (he is former Associate Peace Corps Director
of Health in Niger) we talked about water and health, desertification
and reforestation. With Assaloma we talked about education and the
situation for women today. Time was moving so quickly now and we
didn’t want to leave. But we needed to get a little more footage.
So, the day before we left we spent the afternoon around our quartier,
documenting life today. We were sad to leave but I don’t think
Mary would have been happy to return and find us still there—she
was due back the next day.
Summer 2009
We will return to Niger, to premier the film, and
this time we should be able to go to Agadez. Meanwhile Robert has
made a Murphy bed for me in Chester. I’ve already been there
twice this year. And when we do return to Niger I’ll just put
my SIM card back in and voila! My phone number will still be the
same in this beautiful country. Oh, I forgot to say, the Nigeriens
haven’t changed a bit. Still the kindest and most gentle people
who every lived.
Summer 2009 (Reflections from Robert about his return to Niamey)
The first thing I noticed flying in, was water, in
the desert. From the plane at 30,000 feet I could see lakes and
greenery where there had been nothing but barren sand 40 years ago.
And there are many more trees. As we circled the city, I could see
things had changed there too. What used to be a sleepy little capital
of 40,000 people had jumped to around a million today. Urban sprawl
reached out in all directions—hot, flat and crowded.
Niamey was almost unrecognizable. It took me days
to begin to identify some old landmarks. Whole neighborhoods are
gone—some of my favorites. The Soliel de Minuit bar is long
gone, alas. I should say, I lived the whole two years in Niamey
during my Peace Corps stint. I love this city. Parrish and I went
out one afternoon looking for my old neighborhood and house, the
one that was next to Judy’s all those years ago. We wandered
for quite a while and had to just give up. It’s there somewhere,
I suppose, but surrounded by so many other buildings now! At least
there are lots of trees today. The consolation prize was a great
open-air bar we found that brought back memories of the old days.
The beers tasted just the way they used to! And the Nigeriens are
just as friendly and beautiful as ever.
After the initial shock of arrival in country wore
off, I got off the couch at Mary’s house and started walking
around town, like I was so fond of doing back in the 60’s.
The streets were just as dusty today as then, but now there is much
more noise and traffic, many more people. The people are healthier
now, however. Praise Allah. They are more worldly and aware as well.
I handed out photos of the Obama family; he had just been elected
two weeks before our arrival; to the delight of all of the recipients.
Nigeriens are now very aware of what’s happening in the States,
as well as the rest of the world.
The most amazing transformation in Niamey, to me,
was the bridge across the river. The JFK Bridge. The opposite side
is now a bustling quartier, with a whole university settlement around
it. A well-paved road stretches north and south, unfortunately,
along with strip development for miles. One afternoon, I grabbed
a taxi at the entrance to the bridge and asked to be taken over
there. We finally got past the developments and stopped below the
beautiful buttes. These are the visual landmarks in the view west
of Niamey. Memories flooded back. Forty years ago, one morning I
had taken my velo-solex on a pirogue (canoe) across the great river
and rode it up here. At that time, there were very few people here;
there was only one little hamlet, with three huts in it, I recall.
As far as I know, I’m the only volunteer in our group who climbed
one of those buttes. The view was stunning. It’s also a little
dangerous. I was attacked by the hawks near their nests.
The longer we stayed in Niamey on this trip, the more
comfortable I got. The smells are still similar—spices and
onions and red dust mixed with deisel fumes. The sewers are now
all covered, so that smell, thankfully, is gone. I had forgotten
how much I love camels. These surly beasts are so important to this
land. They’re everywhere, carrying everything, patient, stately
and wise. And if you don’t get too close to their teeth, you
could imagine that they’re quite friendly.
2009 (Reflections from Sandra)
Like Robert I was struck by the relative abundance
of water and trees---both upon arrival in Niamey and “en brousse.”
We were fortunate that we happened to return in a year that had
been blessed with adequate rainfall—a year or two earlier our
experience would have been vastly different—the country suffered
a devastating drought—and Niger is a country where many, many
people survive on what they grow and what their livestock provides.
I grew up on a small family farm in upstate New York—which
meant the kids did the farm work and both my parents had paying
jobs. My mother worked at Cornell University, starting as a janitor
in the College of Home Economics (renamed after the start of the
“women’s liberation” movement). This was in
the mid-fifties and there was demand from dairy farmers in the mid-West
for minimum price guarantees from the Department of Agriculture.
The dairy farmers were dumping their milk to keep it off the market.
My mother came home one day (I would have been maybe 12 years old)
and told of overhearing one of the professors in the College of
Home Economics say: “Who cares if the farmers of this country
go on strike—we’ll eat out of cans!”
This same fundamental inability to connect the dots,
to comprehend primary relationships, effects current discussions
of “development”—how to bring the standard of living
of the people of a country like Niger up to a level that does not
bother our conscience. Niger has made great strides—both
boys and girls go to school, clinics are available, every village
has a well, it has a functioning democracy (currently under some
threat), and it is developing its infrastructure. It is not
a country torn by ethnic/tribal conflict. It is not a country where
the man with a gun gets to eat and everyone else gets what is left—where
the entire day is spent in the search for food.
But when the rains do not come…and if they do
not come the next year…nothing grows, the herds die…and
only international relief saves lives…but that after enough
starvation has occurred to qualify for international attention.
I do not know the answers to this dilemma.
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