Merry Christmas from the Islamic Republic of Mauritania!

Yes, I am fully aware that the title of my blog post makes Christmas sound kind of sad, and in reality it kind of is in Mauritania. Shocking I know, being that this is an Islamic Republic. But I figure that life is a trade, being that the next year and a half of my life will continue to be one outrageous experience. Fine, Christmas consists of a 5 inch tree that my site mate's Mom sent me. (THANK YOU BECCA'S MOM! That was such an awesome surprise!)
Actually, life in the RIM is not so bad right now. For Christmas, nearly all of the volunteers in- country come into Nouakchott for a party at our country director's home. I came in a few days earlier, so I have spent the better part of the past week on the beach and hanging out. For everyone's information and to clarify Lonely Planet's asserion that Nouakchott's beach is nothing spectacular, they are full of it. The beach here is BEAUTIFUL. Nouakchott is in the desert, and the desert just drops off into the Atlantic Ocean. It's a very pretty view.
At any rate, there is a Catholic church in Nouakchott for Christmas mass, football at Obie's house, and all the ice cream I can eat. Christmas can't get much better than that, and New Years in St. Louis, Senegal should be even better. Really my only complaint is that I would do pretty much anything to be with my family tonight. But, again, life is a trade.
Merry Christmas all from the Islamic Republic of Mauritania!
Joyeux Noel. I obviously cannot spell in French. Or English for that matter. Whatever.

Khajata

Khajata is the name of the oldest host sister currently living at my family's compound. She's actually shorter than I am, weighs about 90 lbs, and is the same age as me. She's probably my closest non- American friend in Mauritania. As you've probably figured out, I am an English teacher in Mauritania. I teach all levels at Lexeiba's college (middle school). Khajata, age 22, is a student in my 2eme annee class. She's probably the oldest student in the class by at least 8 years, and she's totally unphased by it.
Khajata dropped out of school some years back. The volunteer in Lexeiba several years ago convinced her to go back to school, so she found herself in fundamental learning intorductory level French with kids that were more than 10 years younger than she was. Even now, she speaks broken French at best, and every night I have to translate her science and math homework into Pulaar for her. That being said, she is the epitome of the things that I admire about this country and what gives me hope. She's 22 and unmarried, which in Mauritania is unheard of. She has no plans to get married, and often lectures me on how African women can't do anything but cook and make babies. Before, during, and after school, she works her tail off cleaning, cooking, and taking care of the baby.
Khajata is extraordinary, but so are a lot of the kids that are in my classes in Lexeiba. While there is public school in Mauritania, it's not exactly mandatory. Most girls here are married by age 15 and pregnant with Baby No. 1 by age 16, so you can imagine that that slightly skews things. The fact is that most Mauritanian families have no less than six children, and they are more valuable to their families working in the fields or selling bread or phone cards than they are in class during the day. While teaching is often exasperating, it's all about perspective. The next American kid who gripes and moans about having to go to school should spend one day in one of my classrooms. There are about 60 kids crammed into a small room, half of them sitting on the floor. They take notes from the board because we have no textbooks for them. During the 3-5 o'clock hour, these kids are sweating to a degree I never thought possible. Three o'clock is the hottest hour of the day in Mauritania, and since "hot" here generally means roughly 110 degrees, it's pretty miserable. Now, cram 60 kids into a concrete classroom with 2 windows, and the temperature goes up considerably. Honestly, I don't know how they do it. I HAVE to be there teaching. They don't, and yet they still come to class.
Khajata and all these kids may not be exceptional in Mauritania (although I think Khajata is pretty great), but they are admirable. It;s just an entirely different perspective on 'education', and one of those things that I probably would have always taken for granted. You can say a lot of really negative things about Mauritania, and I'm, sure I've said most of them, but then you remember things like that, and it's pretty fantastic.

Questions That I Would Like Answers To

Come Saturday, I will officially have been in Mauritania for 4 months. This is the longest about of time I have ever been out of the country and in one place ( the India/ Spain combo may have been longer, but pssssshhhhhh). Anyway, 4 months later I can finally speak decent Pulaar and French, and can thus communicate with the people around me at a somewhat basic level. Also, I have nothing to do most of the time but sit around and stare at stuff (and by nothing to do I mean I should be working, but whatever). This gives me time to wonder about things, so I have composed a list of things that STILL baffle me about Mauritania.
1. Why do cars stop in Lexeiba at 11 o'clock at night????? I've seen this happen a couple of times, where I'm walking back from Nouma's house at like 11pm and the main street and the area outside of the garage in Lexeiba is totally clear. I'll wake up at 6am the next morning to go running and there will be 8 cars pulled over on the side of the road, and all of the people in them will be sleeping on the side of the road on a leeso. Why? We are literally an hour/ hour and a half outside of Kaedi. Lexeiba is on the road to Selibaby, so the cars must be headed there. Why leave Kaedi in th middle of the night, driving on one of the worst roads in the world? Seriously, the road from Kaedi to Selibaby (Lexeiba is located on this road, about 40 km east of Kaedi) is terrible. It's not only unpaved, but thanks to Mauritania's plethora of sand and a harsh rainy season, there are canyons in the road that must be as big as the Hudson River. Even in the daytime, I feel like I'm going to die every second that I am driving on that road. WHY would you try it with no headlights (cars here are generally 70000 years old and delapidated) at night, knowing that you'll have to spend the night in Lexeiba?????? DUMB.

2. Where do the flies go at night? During the day there are about 500 trillion flies in Mauritania, but as soon as the sun sets they disappear. Where do they go? Because I would like to go on a homicidal rampage against Mauritania's entire fly population. If I could only find their hide- out.

3. Why are there so many cows in Mauritania, but everyone drinks silia (powdered milk)? I mean seriously, there are A LOT of cows. The Pulaars are traditionally cattle herders, and Lexeiba probably has more cows than people. That being said, kossum naage (cow milk) is a rarity, and most people just dont drink it. WHY? They also generally don't eat their cows. Yet. I may need a burger pretty soon and turn on the next cow I see.

4. Am I the only one not wearing underwear under my wuddere? I mean, I AM wearing a wrap skirt in a windy climate, but SERIOUSLY, it's HOT. 120 degrees is too hot for underwear. Yet, I saw my sister, Khajata, wearing shorts under hers yesterday. Lose the shorts. It's too hot for that. I may never wear underwear for the next 2 years.

5. How do Pulaars get the cuts on their faces so deep? In Pulaar culture, many people traditionally have 2 parellel cuts along the sides of their eyes, about an inch long. The cuts are to let out spirits that poison your mind, but also for beauty. Almost every Pulaar I know has them, and that is how I distinguish them from the Black Moors. The cuts, while beautiful, are REALLY deep. Most people are cut when they're babies, but even so, skin heals. Do they put something in them to prevent them from closing up and healing, so they are deeper and more pronounced? Nouma's host mom offered to cut her and I the other day, so that we'd be even prettier. I have grown to see them as beautiful, but really, I'm too scared. Also, I don't see 4 pronounced scars on my face going over so well once I come home.

6. Why do people along the river import fish from Nouakchott? When I lived in Rindiao, my Mom used to buy fish imported from Nouakchott everyday for the chebigan at lunch ( a huge bowl of rice with fish and veggies. Mauritanians eat this nearly everyday for lunch). But, Rindiao, like many villages in the Gorgol, Brakna, and Guidimaka, is along either the Gorgol River or the Senegal River. There are TONS of fish in that river, and they are caught fresh daily and have less fish bones. They are also tastier I think. That being said, most people down here prefer the bony, crappy fish that is 6 days old and shipped in all the way from Nouakchott in unrefrigerated trucks. WHY OH WHY?? Thank God my new family in Lexeiba is a fan of the river fish, and every couple of days my shady host brother will come home shadily from wherever at 7pm with 3 kilos of river fish. My family doesnt get them cleaned and fried up until around midnight, but they are delicious.

7. Why is there a verb in Pulaar for "to sit on eggs" and "to leave your husband's compound after an argument", but there isn't one for "to walk"?

Ok, that's all I have right now. Teaching has killed a lot of my brain cells, but when I can think of more, I'll gladly post them.

So, what exactly do you do here......

I was thinking about recently conversations with family and friends last night as I was laying in my mosquito net at, oh, 8:45pm because we had no power and nothing to do at the good old Kaedi regional house, and I realized that I don't exactly spend a lot of time talking about Mauritania when I talk to people. I think maybe it's partially because honestly, people are only so interested in an Islamic Republic in the desert, and also because I personally avoid talking about it. If I had to describe one thing, like how this woman got mad because I didn't greet her when I saw her, then I'd have to talk about the importance of Pulaar greetings, how they last FOREVER, how age and status are important, etc. It would take an hour to tell one story! So, to avoid this and yet still let people know about Mauritania, I thought I'd do a lame Day in the Life post on the good old blog. Also, our regional house currently has no water, so I'm wasting time to avoid thinking about exactly how bad I need a shower and a drink of water and how that's just not happening right now... LAME.
Ok, so heres life on a typical day in Lexeiba, and by typical I mean right now during Ramadan (things are a little screwy right now). I wake up at about 6:15am to go running. I like waking up that early because then half the town doesn't get confused by the site of a white woman in pants running for no reason, there are no people to greet on the way out of town, and really, after about 8am it's too hot to move, let alone run. So, I run on the road towards Kaedi or Selibaby, and it's relaxing and beautiful. Theres tall green grass in Lexeiba right now and beautiful trees and birds. Then, I come home and take a bucket shower. By bucket shower, I mean I fill up a bucket and dump water on myself with a cup. My shower is outside and has a mud floor. After the shower, I go hang out with Khajat and Souart, my sisters, or my mom. They sew or Khajat works on learning French, and I also try and study some French. Then, I usually meet up with Nouma at my house or I walk over to her house. We walk around town greeting people, and stopping in acquaintences houses to say hi. That is SO important in Pulaar culture. Just popping in for 15 minutes to shoot the breeze goes a long way in becoming part of a community and getting to know people. Plus, it helps with Pulaar and French. Sometimes we walk through the market greeting all the women selling fish and vegetables. We tell them that we're volunteers and that we live in Lexeiba now and answer the standard questions "Where are you from?", "Whats your last time" (Pulaar last name, my name in town in not Tanya, but Salamata Sall), "How's you family?", etc. Then, we go back to either of our houses and sit under a tree or under a tent. We read or listen to BBC or sleep, but try not to do anything too active because it\s about 115 degrees at this point. Eventually we go into our rooms and sneak food and water, because everyone else is fasting and they're not eating or drinking.
Eventually, it's time to break fast. This happens at sundown, usually around 7pm. Mauritanians start out drinking water and either toufam or bissap juice. They then move onto eating breakfast, which is coffee and bread. That's followed by gosi, which is a sugary milk mixture with small rice balls or small pieces of pasta in it, or chockery, which is milk, couscous, and sugar. After that theres a slight break, and finally it's time for dinner. If a family is feeling patronne, they will serve something like Banafe. Banafe is consists of a large chunk of meat (usually goat or sheep), served with potatoes and gravy. It kind of reminds me of pot roast. There are usually about 6-10 people eating with their hands from the same plate, although if it's Banafe, you eat it by dipping bread. If it something like Marro e Liddi (fish and rice) or Niiri or anything rice or pasta- based, you eat with your right hand by balling rice and shoving it into your mouth. You NEVER eat Lefty, since the left hand is the "toilet hand" (there is no toilet paper in Mauritania, only kettles filled with water called a makaresh.... you do the math).
By this time it's about 9pm, and people are exhausted and getting eaten alive by mosquitos. It's the rainy season, and thus the Gorgol is one big puddle of standing water. So, people crawl into their mosquito nets and go to sleep. If they're fasting, they will wake up at 4-5am to eat again before sunup.
So, that\s my life now in a nutshell. Things will change DRAMATICALLY when Ramadan ends and school begins, because then I'll actually be working. The Directeur des Etudes should be back in Lexeiba from vacation this week, so I'll finally know how many classes I will be teaching and at what level. Technically school begins on October 1st, and I have to start reporting to class on that day. However, everyone assures me that not a single student will actually show up until after Ramadan (Otober 15th), so looks like I still have a couple more weeks to go.

Lexeiba

Soooo since I haven't posted anything in a month, sorry for the randomness of this post. I actually passed my Pulaar language test (apparently I speak Pulaar at an intermediate-high level!) and swore in officially as a Peace Corps Volunteer on September 6th. After that we had an incredibly awesome swear- in party, and all of the volunteers left for their new sites two days later. There are now 110 volunteer scattered all over Mauritania.
As I said, my site is called Lexeiba, located in the Gorgol region in the South. People who have actually heard of Mauritania say that it is a cross between Arabissant Africa to the North and East and West Africa to the South. I think that's absolutely true. The entire country, minus 3-4 regions in the South, are culturally Moorish and speak Hassaniya. Oh, and let's not forget that Mauritania is an Islamic Republic. I remember everyday when there is no red wine and I want to cry myself to sleep. However, the Southern regions of Trarza, South Bracna, Gorgol, and the Guidimakka, are almost entirely inhabited by Pulaars, Wolofs, and Soninkes. In the villages in the South, people speak languages that originated in Africa (Hassiniya is an Arabic dialect), wear different clothes, and just behave differently. In the Gorgol, you REALLY feel like you are in Africa.
What's cool about Lexeiba is that it's the epitome of this cross between Arabissant Africa and West Africa. It's in the Gorgol, but to the North and East, so it's really close to North Bracna, a heavily Moor area. Becca and I both speak very comfortable French and we're learning Pulaar, which is good because a solid 2/3 of the town speaks Pulaar, and most educated people speak some French. However, in Jedida, a HUGE quarter of Lexeiba, there's an almost entirely Hassaniya community of White and Black Moors. The shops in Lexeiba are mostly owned by Moors, and for this reason I get angry on a daily basis when it takes me 45 minutes to buy batteries because, although I speak Pulaar AND French, it's not enough. I need Hassaniya. The road to Selibaby goes straight through town, and the other day when I was walking to Becca's house, I saw greeted about 200 Pulaars, decked out in boubous, completes, and herding their cows and goats down main street. I also looked up and saw a huge White more guy riding two carpet covered Camels down main street. It was wild. My point? I know EXACTLY where Arabissant Africa meets West Africa: my village, Lexeiba.
Some other fun (and by that I mean boring) facts about Lexeiba: It is currently darn close to under water, as is the road into Kaedi, and as are most of the Southern regions of Mauritania. I was listening to BBC yesterday, which says that there is record flooding all over Africa, and it looks like a Mauritania is no exception. I asked some kid yesterday where the soccer fields are. He pointed to Lake Lexeiba, a large, mosquito- infested standing body of water that was not there a month ago. Thank you El Nino or La Nina or Global Warming or whatever. My entire body is covered in mosquito bites courtesy of this year's rainy season. Also, my new host family in Lexeiba is sort of incredible. I think that if I can live with them for the next 2 years as Salamata SALL, no longer Gangue, then I'll be happy.
Oh, it's Ramadan. It's 120 degrees outside, and no one eats or drinks water all day. As a result, most of Mauritania has totally shut down. It sucks, but breaking fast at night is awesome. There's bissap juice, toufam (think sweet milk), dates, and all kinds of delicious stuff. Still, life stops between the hours of 6am to 7pm, and that's rough. The highlights of my week have included reading 4 books, salminding yimbe fof (hows that for Pulaar!), and tweezing my leg hair because I had PLENTY of time to do so. Riiiight....
School starts October 1st, although apparently classes will really start when Ramadan ends, on October 15th. I can't wait to be teaching/ have something productive to do during the day, minus greeting every person I see in Lexeiba. Although, since each Pulaar greeting lasts about 5 minutes, I guess for now that in itself is a job.

Oh, my blog's name changed, inspired by Dave and his fantastic text messaging abilities. I provided a link to Becca, aka Nouma Chom's blog. She's my sitemate and we already spend way too much time together.

My Inner Thoughts are Terrible

I SWORE that my next post would contain something insightful, but sadly that will probably not happen. However, I have free internet momentarily at the bureau, because I am in Nouakchott 3 months prematurely. Most trainees will see Nouakchott for the second time at Christmas. Only the "lucky" ones, like Kayla and I, get rushed into the capital with breathing problems. Her problem is still undetermined. I managed to get pnemonia in the Sahara Desert! Thank you thank you, I feel that I'm actually THAT talented. I had to spend 3 days in a clinic/ hospital in Nouakchott, and tonight I'm in a hotel until tomorrow, just to keep track of me. Tomorrow I get to head back out to Rindiao and continue teaching at school. You'd think I'd be thrilled to be here, with air conditioning, hot water, etc. but actually it kind of sucks without everyone else. I miss Dave and Nick out in Rindiao, and I HATE being alone. It's even worse being alone in a Mauritanian hospital.
Anyway, the past couple of weeks have been pretty good, but stressful. We started Model School last week, which is supposed to prepare us to teach. Basically it's an English Camp at the Kaedi Lycee, and everyday we each teach a class on varying levels. I'm mostly teaching premiere annee. Teaching is not as hard as i thought it would be, but it's a lot different. I think "teaching" and I thought of American class sizes with books, materials, electricity, etc. Instead, I have 50 students in each class, a blackboard, and a small room. Luckily the classroom has a little "teacher's pedestal", so I don't look like a midget. This is great, because most of my students are already taller than I am (the premiere annees range from age 8-16ish. It's not like first grade in the US). Lesson planning is probably the hardest part, and it takes FOREVER, with the constant stress that your lesson is terrible and the kids just won't get it. This has happened to me in a 3rd year class, and it was uncomfortable, so say the least.
It's hard for me to really reflect on the Mauritanian educational system at all since this is model school, but I have noticed some differences. First, the number of girls. At premiere annee, there's about a 50/50 ratio of girls to boys, and the girls are excited and outgoing and ready to learn. By 4th year (about 9th grade), they've really tapered off to about a 25/75 ratio and become more timid. In the 6th year class, which is the last class before students take the BAC, or college entrance exam, there are only 2 girls in the class and they almost never speak.
This gives me a lot of think about in my classroom when I get to Lexeiba. I knew that women's issues were a big focus of Peace Corps in Mauritania, and obviously, since this is an Islamic Republic, there is good reason for that. In my own host family, there are 3 girls: Habi, Radia, and Sala. Only Habi, the oldest, is even remotely educated. She is in her late 20's and has 2 children. One day she borrowed my Pulaar book to "look at", and I was floored and impressed when she knew how to read at an elementary level. I fluctuate between expecting everything from education in this country to expecting nothing, and it's particularly variant when it comes to girls. There's soooooo much work to be done, and part of me feels like teaching an English class or two and running an afterschool program with Becca is such a small step that's it's almost insulting/ funny. We'll see.
This is long, and I am tired and still sick. Boo pnemonia. Hooray... hot shower?

Lexeiba... my new home sweet home

After a month of waiting for site placement, we finally got out site placement last Tuesday! I am taking Pulaar classes so I assumed that I would be staying in the Gorgol region of Mauritania (the southern region along the river. It's predominantly Pulaar- speaking, GREEN, and truly beautiful). Looks like I will be staying in Gorgol, and I'll be teaching in Lexeiba, a village about 45 km from Kaedi.
So, about site visit. My sitemate and I, Becca, left the Lycee at about 4pm on Wednesday. We caught a taxi, and waited for our counterpart, Fatimata, to do some shopping. The taxi got impatient, so we walked through a raging river of mud in the rain and waited with her friends, ala. some random Pulaar family while she finished. At about 6, we walked to the garage to get a car out to Lexeiba. After cramming 30 people in a van (no, I am not exaggerating even a little), we headed out! 20 seconds later we blew a tire and had to wait another 2 hours for them to fix it and get a new tire. FINALLY by 8pm, we all hopped back on the van and rolled out. By then it was dark and had been raining all day, so the road was washed out and full of holes. Thus, the 45 km trip to Lexeiba took 3 hours. Luckily it was worth the trip.
Lexeiba is BEAUTIFUL. It's much greener than Kaedi, and there is a rain- created river, beautiful bridge, and banana grove on the outskirts of the town. My little college where I'll be teaching is really cute, and I met a few of my future students. If Binta is any indication of who I will be teaching, I think it will be a great 2 years. Also, there is actually a market in Lexeiba! That means I can buy a Coke when I haaaave to have one, and there is even running water. After living in Rindiao and pullinh gallons of well water everyday, I'm so happy I can't even talk. So, moral of this story is that, while traveling to and from Kaedi will be a pain in the rear (look Dad, I censored my language!) I'm excited and thrilled to be placed there. For now, back to Rindiao to finish out my Pulaar classes.

Ine Wuli Comme Ta Mere

Rindiao... it really is hot like your Mom. We've been in Stage for 2 weekand we\re quickly approaching our one month anniversary in Mauritania! Sure, sometimes I miss home and food and booze and Happy Hour... ok, so I miss booze all the time. But, I am having the best time ever in Mauritania. Every night before I go to sleep I just look at the stars, which are brilliant unless there\s a sandstorm and think how lucky I am to be here.
Here\s a typical day in the life of a Peace Corps Stagiere...
I wake up to the sounds of goats bleating and roosters crowing at about 6am. I'm usually sleeping on the front porch with the family becuse it\s so damn hot, and my official wake up call usually involves me being stepped on by a goat.
I wake up, run the daily 3-7 miles, and take a fuck- it... I mean bucket shower. Then we go to Pulaar class with Abulaye, the coolest man alive all morning. By noon it's literally over 100 degrees and it's naptime, so the toubabs (*foreigners) take a nap under the tree in the Ekkol. We snooze and then go home for lunch, which involves 10 people eating fish and rice our of one bowl with their hands. After lunch, MORE PULAAR! Then we screw around some more until dark when we go hang out with our families. My Pulaar family, the Gangaes, are awesome. We live in a huge compound with like 6 other families, and I swear that most of the town lives with us in this compound. This would explain why I never go anywhere without 100 people shouting SALA GANGAE! Dave says I'm the most popular girl in Rindiao. I say he's a smart-ass. On the weekends we come into Kaedi, or mostly hang out next to the river or in the mango forest. Rindiao is blessed with a lot of shade and natural beauty, and we take full advantage of it.
More updates to come! We find out about our sites in a week! Sweeeeeet.

Hot Times *Literally* In Kaedi

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Jetlag in Nouakchott

We made it to Nouakchott at about 7am, after 3 days of training and 12 hours of sleep net total during those 3 days. I'm pretty jetlagged and out of it, but from what I can tell, Mauritania will be a really interesting place to work for the next 2 years. Nouakchott is this massive city that just pops out of the middle of the Sahara desert. I'd read in Lonely Planet Books and other places that Mauritania wasn't exactly known for its natural beauty, but that's crap. If the flight over the desert at sunrise was any indication, this really is a beautiful country.
We're off to our training site tomorrow, and I'll be there for about 10 weeks. During that time I probably won't have much internet access, if any, so updates will be few and far between if they happen at all.

Don't Worry, I'm Still Here

I'm leaving for staging for Mauritania on June 24th, and we fly to Dakar (which is oddly not in Mauritania) on June 26th. I will be in Mauritania for 27 months with the Peace Corps, volunteering as an ESL teacher. This blog is to keep my friends and family updated, and to reflect on my experiences in Northwest Africa.
More to come when I actually get to Mauritania in about 10 days!