Beyond the Mud Wall
I spend so much time with women behind the mud walls of their compounds. Shielded from the male gaze. Protected from strict norms of coverage, silence, and invisibility. Here, behind the bricks, women...
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The Edge of the Circle
This afternoon, huddled under the shade of a giant neem tree, women gathered for a dress ceremony. In the fistula world, dress ceremonies are held to honor women whose fistulas have been successfully...
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Shameless
For women here, shame (or, kunya) is a way of life. It’s hard for me to keep up with everything that causes it. Saying the name of your husband out loud brings a...
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Sai Hankuri
Although there were three of us sitting under the late afternoon sun, none of us made noise. I could hear the sound of a pestle banging spices against a mortar from a...
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Week One at Camp Fistula
Despite the warnings of nebulous threats from volatile neighbors, I decided to come check out Danja, the site where I initially planned to conduct my research. I took a United Nations flight...
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Portraits
I spent the afternoon with a friend and his lovely family. Here are a few photographs.
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the Starlet.
For the last few weeks I’ve spent a good deal of time searching for a car. This is not an easy task. There is no phonebook, few dealers, no craigslist. Like most things...
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between the beggar and the bmw
Like many large cities of the developing world, in Niamey, two worlds exist side by side. Camels and donkeys burdened with soaring stacks of firewood share a lane with shiny, black BMWs. Men...
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Niamey: dusty skies and uncertain horizons
Because one of my grants is directly administered by the State Department (technically it’s the Department of Education), I’ve spent the last few days meeting with people at the embassy. Since security threats...
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My Project: What and Why.
I arrived in Niamey on Monday, officially beginning a year of anthropological fieldwork for my doctoral dissertation. While any seasoned anthropologist will tell you that the project you carefully craft for innumerable grant...
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