After almost two weeks in Niamey, the days have fused together in my memory. By Monday (27th), there had been no word from home, so I sent a telegram to the folks, directing them to have $1,000 sent here, as I should have done in the first place, rather than have them send me the information I need so I can send for the money. Now I'll just have to wait a few more days.
After another night in Kipper's truck, I saw Jonathan, who brought me to his apartment. It's really quite a nice little place, with a yard, a fan and kitchen facilities. My first night there, I cooked a kilo of potatoes and some carrots. He's been sharing his breakfasts with me and I chip in on something now and then and eat my dinners out.After sending the telegram, I realized that $1,000 is not much to last a month and get me home. After settling in Niamey, my eating habits have improved and in spite of no room costs, I've been spending more than $10/day. In other words, it's time to tighten the belt. I've decided to try to carry the alghaïta instead of mailing it and I'm cutting down to two meals per day.
On Monday, I went to the American Cultural Center library, found a good Malamud novel, but wasn't allowed to borrow it. Instead, borrowed The Agony and the Ecstasy, and have done nothing but read it for 3-1/2 days.
Today, Friday (Halloween), is the first day I hoped to receive money, but it didn't come. I've decided, unfortunately, not to spend the money for a trip to that PC worker. Ironically, Jon's going there this weekend, but has no room for me. It's been a real pleasure here with Jon—I sleep in a bed, have light to read with at night, eat a big breakfast, have had my laundry done and enjoy his conversation. Though he's pretty young, he's taught college English in the States and will be teaching at the University here. He's even let me stay at his place while he's away for the weekend.
Being stranded here is so different from being on the move; instead of being curious about my surroundings, I've spent much of my time thinking about getting home. I've become anxious to get the trip over quickly—a feeling I hope passes when I get moving, otherwise I won't enjoy much. Meanwhile, I've accepted the idea that bush huts are not the only Africa that's valid to see— I'm living in a medium-sized African city and getting to know fairly well how African city-dwellers live.
My only real worry is about the money: the mysterious lack of communication from home has given me a feeling of not getting the money at all. I'll undoubtedly be sweating this one out for a while.
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