Coming to Terms with Being a Non- Muslim in a "Muslim World"

June 18 2015 Ramadan Day 1: I knew going into Ramadan that there would be some grumpy blowouts. My fiancé is not a morning person and you know those e cards that say "I’m sorry for what I said when I was hungry?" Yea, well he pretty much wrote that one. I am not far behind him. I went into it planning to start a day or two after him as a sort of buffer. The first day he had his 3:30am food and I got up at 9 and went down and had my espresso and a little bit of fruit. While paying for a 5 star hotel I am getting my damn breakfast. I shoved some food in my bag for later and the rest of the day committed to "fasting" with him. He spent most of the day in bed and I went down to the pool. Feeling a little neglected but trying to be supportive. When I came back I told him how I felt and he said he was sorry he didn’t realize. He’s had 28 years of practice of this and I am like a child doing this for the first time. He never asked me to do this. I volunteered to support him and out of respect for what Ramadan stands for. It’s a time to fast and feel the challenge of hunger which happens all over the world. It’s a beautiful tradition to appreciate what we have in this life and what Allah has given us, and I chose to participate to better myself and my understanding of the values and religion that are so dear to the man I love. It was hard. I cheated with a piece of fruit in the afternoon and some water. By the time breakfast came everything went tits up. We had had a large miscommunication earlier because the term “breakfast” to me means morning but in terms of fasting it’s what you eat at sundown. This meant he thought food was coming and I didn’t understand and so of course didn’t listen to him. Long story short we argued, he stormed off, I went to a store and did my best to buy what I know people usually eat (from last summer when I was in Morocco at this time). He came back and said I did a good job, but we ate in silence. After a little more awkward silence we had a long embrace and talk about the how this Ramadan thing works. I feel like I am going into this with no clue what I am doing and I need him to teach me. That is a lot to ask on the first day of fasting and clearly a conversation we should have had sooner. I have talked to many of the staff at the hotel and Mo and they all say the first few days are the hardest, so hopefully it will get easier for both of us. My plan didn’t work. It has to be all or nothing so tomorrow I am going ALL IN. We shall see. To be continued. Time to eat more, cuddle, and watch a movie. Bon Nuit. Day 2: On only an hour of sleep got up for Sahour (to eat before the last prayer and sunrise) and took a shower to get ready for our 6am bus to Sousse. Mo got up at 4 and we went about our packing, passed an amazing sunrise, and made it on the bus no problem. A few hours in I had to pee like crazy and when we stopped at a bus station along the way, I ran in and when I got back Mo had waited with our stuff and there was no time for him to go. About 114km before Sousse he put on his shoes and told me he was going to see if they would let him stop to pee. I said ok and continued listening to the “serial” podcast, slipping in and out of consciousness in the very back of the bus. He never came back to his seat but I figured he was just up front chatting with the drivers or some dude in Arabic and fell asleep, or something. There weren’t many people on the bus. When we arrived in Sousse I stood up and saw a man two rows in front of me stand up and get off the bus. I thought it was Mo. I grabbed all our stuff, annoyed he wasn’t helping but figuring we never got to stop so he just ran to pee. Then I got off the bus and he was nowhere to be found. The driver yelled at me to grab our bags. I dragged them up the walkway increasingly annoyed he hadn’t reappeared. I stumbled my way awkwardly with all our bags into the terminal of the bus station, Mo still nowhere to be found. Increasingly mad, and I sat down and waited. Ten minutes went by. Then Twenty, forty, an hour…. This is when my anger went to worry. I had pre- arranged a place to stay and was in touch with the woman from air bnb who owns the apartment, but she was in Tunis and couldn’t help in any way. Finally I decided to talk to the police man at the station. He was mildly helpful, going through all the same things with me I had already explored in my mind. At that point I knew one of two things; Mo got off the bus to pee and we left him, or he ran outside the bus station to find a bathroom and something happened to him. The former wasn’t as concerning because I knew he would find his way to me, all I had to do is wait. The police man asked me if he left me- and it took me showing him all our money, credit cards, id cards, passports, to prove to him Mo couldn’t leave me even if he wanted (this guy didn’t know us and in Tunis Moroccans are often the source of problems and even violence, two were arrested in connection with the shooting in Tunis recently, so it was a reasonable concern of his), but I told him that if he was gonna leave me he would do it once we got to Morocco. We went round and round with this for about two hours when Mo appeared!! I was so happy to see him I didn’t care about anything else. He knew I would wait for him, and I knew he would do whatever it took to get to me. It turned out he had gotten off the bus when we stopped without telling me OR the driver, and we left him. The man who had picked him up took us to the area where we were staying- telling us how we shouldn’t stay here, he knows a better place... blah blah blah. I appreciated his kindness but I was running on one hour of sleep,fasting, just got my fiancé back and just wanted to get to the apt and rest. Under normal circumstances this would be a stressful situation for a couple traveling. Now take into account one hour of sleep and fasting for Ramadan. It’s all a bit of a blur, but let’s just say things went from fine to crazy real quick. During this entire time the cousin of the woman who I rented the air bnb apartment from was waiting for me with the keys- for two hours! So my priority was to get to him, get the keys, and just have it be done. Argument ensues. We get inside the apartment and both fall asleep, sleeping past Iftar (sundown to break fast). We ate, talked, forgave and realized that there is a reason that Allah says not to do Ramadan while you travel! I had many mixed emotions that night and into the next morning. Was my trying to support Mo by doing Ramadan with him just making it worse for him? Probably. Was traveling and being away from home for the first time for Ramadan making things hard for him? Absolutely. Would it help him more if I just don’t fast? Possibly. Does he need to admit that this is harder for him because of these factors? In time, he will. We slept and slept and slept. I woke up for Sahour and went back to sleep some more. End of Day 2. It was one of the hardest days mentally I can remember, but I proved I can do it. Day 3: I woke up and all I could think of was chocolate and coffee. We were hanging around the apartment doing our usual thing- tv, you tube, Netflix, just hanging when I suggested going to the beach. Mo looked at me and said something about not wanting to be in the sun while fasting. I burst into tears. Surprised at his dramatic reaction, he asked me why I was crying. I explained how hard this is because I just feel trapped. My life in Niger is led behind walls, inside all day. I came to Tunisia for adventure and to get my wanderlust fix. If we are just going to stay inside all day what’s the point? Being the man that he is, he heard me and we had a long talk about it all. He told me that we could take a day off because we are traveling and go to the beach and get coffee and drink water and be free. I just wanted to feel free while I have the chance to be outside of Niger and he could see that. We walked to a coffee shop and had juice and a cappuccino and sweet cakes then laid on the beach and played in the champagne/ emerald waters and laughed and sang. A little later we walked around, went grocery shopping and spent the rest of the day just being free and on vacation. Just being us. Mentally I (sometimes) feel like I am in a prison in Niger. All that barbed wire and the walls and the bomb sweeps and the guns. I just need to walk around and have a decent latte and lay on the beach and get some perspective and sanity regained. My wanderlust self is when I am at my best, I can compromise but I can't give it up. It feels like a lot to ask when the person you love the most has an obligation to his faith. In the end we decided that while we travel in Tunisia I will just practice fasting. Once we get to Morocco it will be different. Morocco is like being home, not vacation. I don’t feel like I am missing anything if we lay inside all day, go to for a walk on the beach late in the day, then have Iftar and spend time with his family. THAT is what we are there to do but the compromise is that I get Tunis as my vacation (and the Canaries). I need the balance. Later in the evening he told me he was going to continue to fast this week. I was confused. I am putting so much pressure on myself to be perfect and supportive and play the part, but the reality is I am not Muslim and I am not perfect. What I do know is that day with the bus situation I did it. I didn’t break fast. I made it through an entire day without cheating and I stayed strong. I can do it but I can’t create these expectations of myself that are unrealistic. All I can do is try my best and make sure that my relationship holds strong. Mohammed is the best man I have ever known (alongside my Dad) and this pressure is all coming from me. He can see what I need and he ALWAYS put me first. In the end I need to just relax, take the pressure off, try my best, support and love him, the way he loves me. The way he has picked up his whole life and moved to Niamey. We make mistakes, we argue, but we love eachother more than I could ever have imagined loving someone. We will work it out, and the rest will fall into place. Day 4: I have decided not to fast until we get to Morocco. He missed Sahour this morning so he is not fasting today either. We are headed to be with some family near Sousse. I am coming to terms with what it means to be a non- Muslim woman in a Muslim “world” and that maybe I am the one who needs to stop judging myself- because no one else is.

10 Months of Radio Silence: An Update

WELL... here we are ten months later. I am still in Niamey, and like most places in the world not much has changed, except me. My summer blog posts were foiled by my inept tech skills in posting with only an iphone, it's harder than one might think. I hope you were able to keep up via Facebook. Upon return to Niamey I hit the ground running. For the 2014- 2015 school year 6 out of 8 teachers were new, the role of internal coordinator for the impending MSA visit became very real, and I took on many new roles of leadership and responsibility within the AISN community. In the mean time I found myself a Moroccan soul mate, and oh yea, got engaged! That about sums it up. Let's revisit the part about how I view myself in comparison to where we last left off. My trip last summer was the pivotal moment in my transformation. What in most places is referred to as culture shock-defined by Merriam- Webster as: a feeling of confusion, doubt, or nervousness caused by being in a place (such as a foreign country) that is very different from what you are used to, is known as transition here in West Africa. Transition, defined as: a change from one state or condition to another. It is my belief culture shock only happens to some people in places like Thailand or South Korea and is a more temporary condition. Transition in Niamey happens to everyone, and if someone tells you otherwise they are liar liar pants on fire. When you are in the throes of it, it's nearly impossible to recognize. It doesn't matter how much you read or have people tell you what is happening to you. Until you work through transition (which actually has 5 documented phases), you only think you know. Studies on transition show that a person has to be "pulled out of it." In my case it was my summer in Turkey, Spain and Morocco where I pulled myself out. It all really boiled down to a simple conclusion: You can't control what others do, only your reaction. I made a choice. A choice to let things roll off my back, to see my time here as not just a means to an end but also as a commitment I have made where if I bring to the table a genuine investment straight from the heart, I will make a difference. As crazy as it sounds, I love Niamey and AISN. I love them because I choose to focus on the good. I choose to not sweat the small stuff, work my tail off, learn how to say no, and ignore the negativity as much as possible. One might also argue I am slightly insane and thrive on chaos, and to that I would not object. Now that I am on the outside looking in on those who are experiencing transition I see them clearly. I see myself 12 months ago and how it reflected to the people around me at the time. I believe that you have a choice as to the experience you have while living in Niamey. Option 1: See it as a means to an end and do your time until your contract is up, end of story. Option 2: See your time in Niamey as a means to an end while embracing the chaos. I chose the latter. Is it easy? No. Is it worth it? Well only time will tell, but what I do know is that I am not miserable, I do not want to leave (permanently that is- this dusty 111/44 daily hot season weather is enough to make anyone long for cool breezes and fresh air), and there is nothing that makes me happier than the smiles of the kids and staff (foreign and local) that I encounter daily and the satisfaction I feel in knowing I am paying my dues while learning how good success from hard work feels. I have now signed on for my third year and ensuring I leave here with the certification and masters I intended since the beginning.