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.