I'd like to tell you a story...

So I have a field. Not the "hills are alive with the sound of music" kind where little birds and bunnies frolic merrily by your feet. No, this is the work-for-your-food and pray-that-you-harvest-enough kind of field. It's four plots, each roughly 30 feet squared.

When I first got to Tokomadji my host mom Penda would take me to the fields to show me how they "weed" the fields, we'd work together with her two sons (Mama, 21 and Demba, 12), and it was a good learning, bonding, working experience for me. I had to learn how to distinguish between the grassy weeds and the tiny shoots of millet that look pretty much identical to the weeds, and how to recognize bean leaves--then not kill them. It was great! Then about two weeks into it we're out in the field when Penda turns to me, earlier than usual, and says, "Lets go home, I'm tired." I told her that I wasn't tired so if she wanted to go home, go and I'll stay to finish the parcel that was left. She said she didn't want to leave me, so we both stayed until it was done.

That night, after spending the afternoon puking and feverish, she was officially diagnosed with malaria. The next day, not knowing what to do with myself, I went to the field and kept weeding. For 10 days I was the only one to go to our millet field (Mama and Demba, both still considered children in this society--and act like it--didn't go because their mom didn't tell them to). Of course what took me 10 days would have taken any experienced person about 2 or 3, but at least I was kept busy!

From then on, Penda's been referring to it as "Jenaba's field" (that's my local name! say it: Jen-uh-buh or Jenna-ba). After not going to the field for a while (the Muslim holiday Julde, I went to Kaedi, had an ear infection), I came back to find the little ankle-height shoots taller than me! I was totally lost in the cooperative's fields and couldn't find "my" field: Penda had to show me where my babies were!

Just when I thought I had seen it all, it came time to water my little ones. Oh, my gosh, what a job! A rusty water pump on the Senegal River is heard throughout the whole village as it pushes tons of water up the river's bank (about 25 feet) in huge pipes to the canal system so it can flow into each man's field.
(Yes, I said each man's field: only men are allowed to own a field in the village's cooperative. We have three fields: Penda's deceased husband's, her uncle's, and her father's. None of which are next to each other). Watering goes by sections; within each section each person allows the water to go past their field and those furthest from the pump open the small door to their field to let the water in. Once their field is thoroughly flooded, they close their door, stopping the flow to the field, and the next person opens the small door to their field, and so on until all people in a given section of the cooperative have watered/flooded their field.

It takes all morning: watching for leaks in the sand-and-mud divisions between people's fields, faulty doorways, breaks in the canals, people going out of turn, people not paying but still watering, and anything you can imagine that could go wrong! The fun part is taking off your flip flops, hiking up your skirt, and going nearly knee-deep (on me, I'm short) in the mud and water, back and forth the entire length of the field as you check for possible problems, leaks, etc. Ideally, we water once every 20 days or so (which, from an agricultural point of view, is NOT ideal).

Hey, people like millet, right? So do the birds! We had a 3-4 week battle with the birds as they would come and attack the fields and we would defend them by throwing rocks at the little buzzards and yell at them our war cries (literally we yell--birds don't like loud noises!). Again, poor Penda got malaria and I was the only one to come to our field's rescue (this time all of the kids were at school, learning. How can I argue with that!?) I quickly learned the rightways to yell at the different kinds of birds, how to use the "sling shot" (two arm-lengthed ropes connected with a palm-sized piece of cloth where the rock sits. You wind up over head like a lasso cowboy-style, then at just the right spot you let go of one side of rope, sending the rock into the millet, scaring the birds away). Also, the best looking millet got nifty outfits: they were wrapped in cloths to keep the birds out.

Yelling became my favorite part: my friend Djeewo (Say it: je-woah) and I were the youngest out there (only middle-aged women and grandmas came out). We would yell all kinds of greetings in all kinds of languages, sing, yell, dance, shout, and just have a great time even though there were about 2 fields between our own and most of the time we couldn't even see each other!

It was a sad day when Djeewo and I couldn't dance and sing at each other in languages the other didn't understand, but that day came: we harvested. You keep a long, toothed, curved, handled knife in the right hand, grab the head of millet in the left, and chop it off. We'd chop, throw it on the ground in piles, then later collect with huge sacks, and send them by horse and cart to our house. Now the millet is sitting on top of a storage room, drying out, waiting to be stored for eating or local selling later, or shipped to Kaedi to be sold in the market.

Any foods we don't grow in our fields or gardens is bought in the market with the money made from our fields. For lunch we eat rice (or lachiri, a grain derived from the millet we harvest!) with fish (one is 70UM Ouguiya, say it: oo-gee-yuh; we usually have 2 fish for 6-10 people) and veggies. If they're bought in the market it's about 200UM worth of veggeis: 1 or 2 small eggplants, 3/4 cups of tomato paste, 1 cup of Mauritanian pumpkin, 1 cup of Mauritanian cucumber, 1 cup of sweet potato, 5 small okras, a small chili pepper, and 2 onions.

Right now we also have in our field/garden space: pumpkin, cucumber, sweet potato, okra, and a thing we call folere (say it: fol-le-re, pretend its a word in Spanish, and there you go!). I have no idea what this is in the States!
Finally, my field is being harvested down to the roots so that our 8 goats and their 10 kids can eat the leaves and the 2 calves can eat the stalks. Nothing goes to waste!

P.S. When we keep the birds out of the fields, its an all day thing: we go there 7am, lunch is brought to us, we nap, do laundry, bathe, brush our teeth, make tea, chat, and work until sunset around 6pm.

What is going on here?!

I realized that most of you are probably wondering what is going on here. You know I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer, but what do I actually do?
Peace Corps Goals:
1.Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2.Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3.Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Sectors: Agroforestry, Girls Empowerment and Education, Small Enterprise Development, Health, Education, and Environmental Education.

Me specific:
Country: Mauritania
Region: Gorgol
Village: Tokomadji
Sector: Agro/Forestry
Ag/fo goals:
1.Fight Malnutrition.
2.Protect the land and environment.
3.Give training to create sustainability.

As PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) we are largely ambassadors from the United States to the everyday people of the world, sharing who and what we are. You'd be SHOCKED to know how many people in the world dream of going to the United States to make money, support their families, and build a better life in the Land of Opportunities. So, in response to the large demand, there are countless English classes given by PCVs in all sectors.

In Tokomadji I work in the fields with my host mother Penda, give pedagogical support to the village's first-ever kindergarten, help cement the local English teachers' English, teach English to high schoolers, and promote gardening, composting, and fruit tree management.

Right now I'm working on getting funding for a building for the kindergarten's 50 students, 3 (volunteer!) teachers, and director and sharing all of my knowledge with every person possible to help them with their quest for a better future.

Any ideas? Questions? Comments? Let me know!

What's THAT?! A grub!

Every day I have to face one of the most humiliating, humbling, most challenging tasks that --here--even babies do better than me: eat. Again, one of those things that sound sooo simple and you totally take it for granted, but in actuality, not everyone in the world EATS the same way as you do. And I had to learn this, the hard way: by trying as an adult.

First things first: the teenagers have finished cooking, they've placed the food in the big, communal bowl, they've laid down the cloth for eating at and they've called everyone to come and eat. As a girl--I'm not really considered a woman/adult because I'm not married, nor do I have children-- its culturally appropriate for me to sit next to other children or women. That's it. Sometimes if I'm with really good friends, it won't matter if I'm next to a man or not, but usually as we're all walking and/or scooting over to the cloth mat I'm already consciously thinking of how to make my way over so that as we sit down I'll be next to the right people. Ok, once we're all there I usually try to be the first or the last to sit down so that the others can really make it culturally appropriate by moving around me, or moving me to the right place. Once that place is found there's the next problem: how to sit down without flashing everyone who's already sitting, sit correctly so that as we're eating I don't flash the people across or next to me, and how to keep my butt from hitting others as I try to squeeze in next to them!

My advice for a wrap skirt is: stand with the right foot closest to the bowl, bunch up your skirt in front of you so that the back is pulled tight around your knees, bend over from he waist, so that your legs are straight and your torso is down, bend the knees, bringing the butt down to your ankles and sit. As you shift your weight to the butt, let your ankles cross in front of you, allow the skirt to give as you achieve your cross-legged position. If all goes well you should be facing the person to your left, and your right knee should be pointing towards the bowl, thus making the right hand reach to the food quick, easy, and short. Sitting sideways is most polite so that more people can fit around the bowl. You could also sit with both feet behind you and your knees facing the bowl as you lean over your legs, but its harder to do if you're a bigger person (like me--well, at least comparatively speaking).
Ok, so I'm sitting next to the nice lady of the house and a young teen is on my other side. One person, usually the eldest child, is in charge of making sure everyone washes their hands. There is a plastic bowl like thing called a ___________ with a (usually) matching satela. The child will place the ___________ in front of you, you put your hands over it, grab the soap from on top, and s/he'll pour water from the satela over your hands. When you're finished you say "yuni" (you-knee), s/he'll stop pouring, and move to the next person. Now its very important to remember NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING with your right hand now that its clean and ready to eat. If you do, it'll be dirty again and you'll have to re-wash. Usually we rest the wrist on the knee while we wait for everyone to finish.

If that wasn't complicated enough, now comes the really hard part: digging in! Once everyone--anywhere from 6 to 13+ people have all washed, the plate is brought in the circle, and everyone scoots in as close as possible--usually with knees, elbows, or legs all up in each others space-- the host will say "Bismillah" (bis-mill-ah) meaning, "Welcome God" and we all reach in to the pie-shaped space in front of us. The first bite is always just rice, so go ahead and gently scrape off the top layer in front of you, bringing it closer to your piece of the bowl's edge. Be careful! If you dig too much the rice will be really really hot and burn your fingers!


Phew! Rice is accumulated in front of you; next is getting it outof the bowl and just in your hand. Gently cup your fingers and scoop the rice up the slope of the bowl towards you. Most people like to swipe side to side to make sure that all crumbs are collected off of the bowl's side, then use the momentum and pressure to just lift your hand up and away from the bowl! Voila! Rice in the hand! But don't rejoice yet, you're still hungry and haven't even eaten anything yet!
With your right hand only squeeze your hand into a fist, encompassing all of the rice with your hand and fingers. You know you're an EXPERT baller if you can squeeze it and make a juicy, squelching squeak and make some oil drip out!

ATTENTION: THE FOLLOWING IS ONLY TO BE READ BY THOSE OF STOUT HEART AND MIND. THE CONTENTS ARE DIFFICULT FOR THOSE OF SQUEAMISH DISPOSITION TO HANDLE.
The best way to actually get the food into your mouth is to collect that ball of food at the pads of your fingers, start with your tongue at the base of the palm, and lick all the way up, sometimes wrapping your upper lip over the top of your fingers to keep rice from falling off. The first few days of doing this will be slow goings, and rice will fall all over your lap, the floor, the cloth mat, and maybe back into the bowl. But no worries! Everybody's doing it!
A good host will pick off the choicest pieces of meat and veggies from the center of the bowl and throw them right in front of your eating place to show that you are honored and they want you to eat well. If not, it shows you're just one of the family and you've got to get your hand in the pile of food quickly, pulling out your bites of fish/meat or veggies as you go.
Possible challenges: the bones in the fish (you have to squish the meat in your palm with your thumb, looking for the bones, then pull them out with your left hand, depositing them on the cloth mat in front of you), small pebbles that weren't properly sorted before cooking the rice (these can really hurt your teeth if you bite down on one!), pulling the meat off of the bones or getting the fat off of the meat (ask someone to hold the other end for you, and pull off the piece of meat that you want to eat), being given intestines (either smile and swallow quickly or gently push it back into the center of the plate), or even bugs landing in the food (scoop him and the rice he touched out of the bowl and onto the cloth mat). Bon Apetit!

Of course when you've finally gotten enough food into your mouth and spilled the equivalent on the floor, your skirt, or your neighbor, you're full and ready to go, but your host will insist that you keep eating, increasing what you've eaten so far, and eating until you're full. They won't have you leaving (even slightly) hungry! If you're insistent enough, just get up, go over to the __________ and wash your hands so that they're clean. Ahhhh..... now lay down on the foam mattress, wait for tea, and relax! You did it!

You play ball like a GIRL!!

"Get up!" It's dawn and the sun is rising as your mom is yelling at you: "You have to go to school!". If you're a typical 13 year-old girl--or just a teenage girl--in a Pulaar village then you'd look around and see that not only is your mom yelling at you to get up, but she's also yelling at your sisters laying on the mat next to you, your cousin on the next mat over, and the friend from the next village over where they don't have a school. That's right, you don't have to share a room with anyone, you share the porch! First thing's first: pray. As an Islamic nation as soon as you're of marrying age (a teenager) you have to pray 5 times each day!

Next you have to do your chores: Pick up your mat and blanket, put them away, and then there are 3 main daily chores that rotate depending on how many teenage girls actually live in the household. 1)Getting water--aka balance 20 liters of water on your head without a lid and not spill or you'll have wet clothes AND you'll have to go back to the well!
2)sweeping the house: oh, pain! Bending over to use the little hand-held broom to sweep the never-ending dust from the house and the leaves from the yard 3)Cooking lunch and dinner; all on a two-day rotating basis. Last night you cooked the family dinner so now you have to pile the dishes on your head and get down to the river to wash them --and yourself--before walking to school.


After you're cleaned up you came back home and go to the one room you share with all your siblings to go through your suitcase that has your clothes in it. But really you share your clothes with your sister, your cousin, and even your friend from the village over... because they share their clothes too!

It's getting warmer... so you know school is about to start! Grab your notebooks, pen and bucket (so you can stop at the well on your way back from school) you're about to learn math, science, history, religion...all in Arabic or French, your second and third languages!

Gurgle...gurgle.... your stomach is letting you know its break time! After two hours of class--which is naturally separated with boys sitting on one side and girls sitting on the other side of the classroom--and taking notes, man its time for some grub! At the market you find about 15 women sitting on the ground selling veggies and one has meat balls! Yes! Oh, but wait, it's your turn to cook lunch so pull out the money mom gave you before leaving for school, find the right veggies, get that special balance on your head, and drop them off at home. Then more class...but you don't get to sit next to that cute Abu you've got a crush on...

Sun-over-head means time to go home for lunch! If you're the lucky one that doesn't cook today, just go home and relax...if not...prepare the fish, veggies, rice (This is waaay harder than it sounds! I can't cook here!) don't forget the FIREWOOD, matches, and bowls.
Enjoy! Eating is of course a family affair: everyone all around one nice big bowl, digging in with the right hand, helping each other tear meat off the bones, sometimes elbowing your annoying little brother in the ribs to scoot over if he's too close...I mean, he does kind of smell...

Tea time is so important the family never misses it! So your big brother busts out the coals from lunch, tea leaves, fresh mint, tons of sugar, the little tea pot, and the special tea glasses. Ahhh.... enjoy the 3 cups of tea as we all lay around on the porch where you slept last night.

Ok, its getting cooler time to go back to school for more learning and trying to show yourself off to either catch Abu's eye or that of any other eligible bachelor with lots of goats and cows (they show the family's wealth, of course! Think My Big Fat Greek Wedding)


Now it's really getting cold out! Grab your bucket from under the desk and get to the well. If you get home quick enough there will be enough sunlight left to hang out with your friends! You do each others hair, play with makeup ideas, tease your sister, and maybe flirt with some of the guys in the neighborhood; since mom and dad are at the fields working there's a bit of a sense of freedom in the house...


The sun is setting so its time to buckle down: parents are getting back from work, and you have to cook dinner. Its off to the fire! As you cook your sister gets out the lantern or a candle so the 5 or 6 of you can do homework. Yup, all on the porch! (At least you always know where everyone is)

Wow, you're really tired now! Time for bed! Pull out the mat. Grab that fuzzy blanket you share with your sister. No pajamas, just what you were wearing earlier. Brush your teeth if you feel like it. Good night.
*Side note: there aren't any actual HOURS since no one here really uses them...it's all pretty much by the sun or by feel.

Going My Way? How to Travel to Modernity

I remember in junior high being shocked when I learned that in the Middle Ages the average person didn't travel more than 12 miles away from their birth place. Ever. In their whole lives. And now I'm living in such a place.

This is our front yard.


Just to get here-- to Kaedi, internet, electricity, American cooking, and you-- I have to travel an arduous, tiring, haggard, and nearly impossible whopping 65 kilometers! Thats all of about 40 miles, less than the commute for most Californians on their way to work.

To begin with I'm really not bitter about any of this at all, it is part of "learning patience." That being said, whenever I feel the remarkable mother-child powers calling me to a beloved package that has arrived at the Post Office or sense your need to know more about life in Mauritania, I have to plan on spending the day in transit:

Usually around 6:00am I will get up so that I have enough time to pick up my bed, get dressed (no bathing since it's still dark and thus not safe to go bathe, or its too cold now), walk to the neighbor's house to buy fresh bread, walk back home, eat it, grab my bag (only one outfit needed for 3 days, everyone does this), and walk out to the "road." The "road" is about 5 minutes walking from our house and is actually tire tracks embedded in the sand that drivers don't actually need to find Kaedi. No pavement, no trail, and no guidelines whatsoever. (During the rainy season most of it is flooded, so to pave would be pointless for a quarter of the year).

You can see the camels "following" the "road" on an early morning walk.


Ok, so I'm chilling on the side of the road, maybe sitting on my bag, maybe alone, maybe with some other traveling Tokomadjians, and I'm waiting. From about 7:00am or so, just waiting for the next passing truck. Once I had to wait only 5 minutes, but another time I waited 2 hours. As soon as one comes down the "road" going in the right direction, they see me, I stick my hand out to show that I DO want to get on the truck, and the driver and I will negotiate a price for my passage. Even though we all know it's 1,000 UM (ouguiya, say it: uuuu-GEE-ya) (about $4.00 USD)to go from Tokomadji to Kaedi, we all know we have to barter. Drivers may say it's up to 5,000UM, but as long as I just insist that I'm going to pay ONLY 1,000UM then after about 2 minutes of repeating myself, they agree that yeah, it really is just 1,000UM. Done. Unless I have really big bags, then that's extra.

Of course the simple 3 seater Toyota with no cab or bed extensions is already full inside the cab, and all kinds of 50 Kilo sacks of rice, sugar, luggage, and people have filled the bed, but this is not meant to discourage travelers! I just hike up my wrap skirt (I'm sure to wear underwear on travel days!) so no one sees above my knees but I can still hike up the wheel of the truck and climb onto the bed of goods in the back, wedging myself between a stinky shepherd, a student, an imam, and a nursing mother. Quickly I try to twist my fingers around anything semi-stable while not invading anyone's privacy and keeping in mind my own safety, anchor my butt (the bulk of my weight, I mean, the center of my gravity), and wedge my feet under luggage or dangle them over the edge. Sometimes everything is covered with netting like fishing nets, so theres an automatic handle right where you're sitting!

You can see the nets by my feet! I was lucky in this photo, no one to squish against!


Ok, my fellow travelers: the shepherd spends most of his days alone with his camels, cows, goats or sheep in the countryside away from any sort of civilization. He likes to wear a ridiculously long (like 3 yards) scarf on his head and mouth to protect it from the sun and dust. He usually has some billowy pants that are a cross between gaucho pants and sweat pants (super light, big, airy, and tight on the cuffs), and a poncho-shirt that looks like Great-Aunt Mabel's old curtains (big, colorful flowers, etc). He's nice, sometimes talkative.

The Student is the embodiment of the West meets Africa or Africa abducts America: jeans (that say really funny things on the leg in English like "Use only non-chlorine bleach. Tumble dry low. Warm iron if needed"), sunglasses (cost about 300UM, or $2 USD), back pack (jansport knock off), and shirt that must pay tribute to Bob Marley, 2Pac, or any national soccer team (usually Brazil, go figure!). These are the boys that you can just see walking down a street in LA and totally blending in...sort of.

The Imam, or other professional religious person is almost always very interesting in what I believe, willing to share what Muslims believe, and usually very friendly. I like him!

This is what we see sometimes: a random canoe (the only river-traversing method).


The nursing mother always worries me. We're on this ridiculous, non-existent, ravine-ridden road, and she has this 8-month old balanced in her arms, suckling as she's trying to keep him from sloshing around too much as we bounce down the say. Somehow I am always next to her so I always try to let her lean against me since both of her arms are on her baby, not holding either of them to the car. She's usually pretty quiet as she tends to the nursing child while trying to semi-hide her exposed body part.

As we go along we pass several waiting people, sometimes stopping to pick them up, sometimes not even slowing down, and sometimes letting people off. This ALL could potentially happen in a village--like my case-- or in the middle of nowhere, which I'm still piecing together. There is of course a strategy to getting the best seat: the closer to the cab the less bumpy the ride; the more in the center you are the more you can lean on others knowing you're not going to fall out (but really its not cool to touch the others, so no leaning on them). If you're on the side you really have the potential to be jostled out of the truck! Oh, and we've squished about 20+ people in the back of the truck, on top of the goods.

This is exciting, right?! Good! This trip lasts about 2.5 hours on a good day. Yup, just to go about 40 miles. And its all worth it: about 11 or 12 noon we make it to Kaedi! We're all dropped off at the market, I go to the Post office, get that package that was calling me, and head off balancing my bag or box on my head for the 15-20 minute walk to our "Regional House" and little slice of America.

Our front yard as you walk in the door. Sam on the doorstep, Kelby the dog on the mat on the floor.



Sara Cate lounging in the lounge. We have tons of books, a fan, table, foam mattresses for sleeping/sitting/playing/lounging on, a table, and dvd's!

Taking a whiz

Yes, peeing. Pretty simple, right? you walk in, flip on the light switch, have a seat, do your business, wipe it clean, flush, wash and go. Easy.

Oh, but wait! Not in Mauritania!
First you have to find the makaresh, or satela, which could be sitting anywhere in the yard: by the cooking fire, under the sleeping platform, behind the door, next to the garden, on the corner of the porch, under the tree, or leaning against the water cannery, but never near the actual bathroom it self. Once found it is usually guaranteed to be empty. So its back to the water cannery.

At the water cannery there are 2 to choose from: one with river water and one with well water. The well water is strictly for drinking, and river water is literally for everything else, so don't dip into the wrong one. So you grab this plastic, 1-liter, handled "pot" and dip it into the river water cannery. Oh, but only use your right hand to hold the pot because the left is dirty (more on that to come ;). Pour the water from the pot into the teapot-shaped satela. I've been yelled at several times for doing this wrong:

you have to have to have to pour the water away from the cannery's opening. Not over it. The satela is after all dirty from going into the douche/bathroom, and if water drips from it into the cannery then the cannery is dirty too.

Ok, so you have your water. Make sure you have shoes on! Walk over to the bathroom, be careful because the door doesn't actually close all the way: I've been walked in on a few times... Try to close the door as securely as possible, walk over to the hole. Time to go, right? Nope, not yet! Since the door doesn't really close, and people have accidentally come in, its best to consider which way to face: if you face the door, everyone will see your junk. If you face the wall, they'll just see your back and knees poking out. But the hole is best reached if you face the door. So if it's #1 (peeing) face the wall! But if you have some real business to attend to, you'll have to really close the door as tightly as possible!!

Once you're in position, aim well! And remember that anything that doesn't make it in the hole, you're responsible for. Once you're relieved, use that pot of water! Right hand in back, pouring (but don't get your clothes wet), left hand in front for the balance (remember you're squatting over a hole, you don't want to fall over). When all is clean, stand up, still wet (we don't really wear underwear, that would be a natural nursery for diseases), and hopefully there's still some water left after your escapades, because I still like to use soap to wash my hand.

Usually there's this little scrap of soap up on the wall of the roofless toilet room, but it is a little taller than me, so I have to reach up, feel around, and try to find the little bugger. Then wash my left hand with just my left hand, so that my right hand can pour out the water. I usually do this over the hole so that any thing that may still need to go down the hole goes down. Put the soap back up on the wall, open the door, you and your wet behind are finished!

Deposit satela wherever you think the next seeker will most likely not find it, and go some place where either 1) your butt will dry while you sit down, 2) you can stand if the fabric of your skirt/pants/etc. doesn't show wetness, or 3)go for a walk

Hopefully you're not sick and you don't have to face the people that heard your explosive diarrhea and/or gas as it erupted into the echoing hole.

I realized that I have had to learn a lot of patience with my self as I learn how to do everything over again: talk, walk, greet, stand, sit, lay down, sleep, eat, drink, bathe, address people, cook, clean, sweep, read, write, do my hair, wear my clothes, sew, buy clothes, go to the market, shake hands, answer the phone, count, pay rent, fend off marriage proposals, joke, laugh, visit friends, make friends, know people, and yes, even pee.

These are a few of my favorite things....

Yesterday we had some visitors from the European Commission to see our health volunteers at work. Among the 6 visitors were a few Frenchmen, a couple Italians, and a Spaniard! They didn't stay very long, but we did have great conversation, exchange phone numbers, and speak English (a rare treat these days). Then the Italian invited me, along with all of the other local PC volunteers to his house for a get-together/ party (can we call this a party?) So this morning I got up at 5:30ish to pack and get ready for the 2-3 hour trip into Kaedi. After going around the market, greeting, talking to nice random people, bargaining for cooking oil, eating for the first time in a Mauritanian restaurant (on the floor, just like at a friend's house, we just had to pay afterwards), and buying oranges (we don't have any fruit in my village), I made it to our "PC house", found 3 packages waiting for me from my mom, AND was promised spaghetti for lunch! I was so happy!
My mom sent me Oreos and as we sat around eating them, we couldn't stop laughing, giggling, smiling, ohhing and aahhhing, and marvelling at the deliciousness that is the Oreo!

Some other weird new things that make Mauritania very enjoyable:
the smell of burnt tea
fresh bread in the mornings
watching people pray
bathing 2 or 3 times each day
talking to everyone I meet in my village
everybody knows my name! it's better than the TV show Cheers !
drinking Tufam! (soured milk mixed with water and sugar...amazing.)
Friendship bracelets
sleeping outside
eating outside
sitting on our raised bamboo platform called a donkey, talking to my host family
the joy people have when I take their picture
hearing my family try to speak English
understanding Pulaar!
sharing American candies with my family--they love it!

Africa is definitely NOT as savage as many Western people think it is. Yes, its dirty with trash in the streets, we do everything outside, and kids are always running around half--or completely-- naked, but people are still loving, educated, striving for improvement, and doing the best possible with what they have. This is definitely a place that more people should come to see and understand.
You always have a place to stay if you come to visit me!!

Day 106 in RIM--and I'm still here!

But of course I’m still having a great time in Africa. Haha, I totally get these reality checks sometimes and realize I’m IN Africa. Just the other day we were sitting in our “Peace Corps” house (a house for us to stay in when we come into the state’s capital) and saying, “You’d be surprised what you get used to.” And its so true!
I’ve been in Tokomadji for one month now, exactly the month of Ramadan. So I never knew what this entails, and it is sooo intense: from the night the moon disappears through the new moon—30 nights—all adult Muslims are required to Fast, meaning no food or water during daylight hours. Even in the crazy African heat, NO WATER!! I found out there’s a science to Fasting correctly: at 5:30ish everyone wakes up to the call in from the local Mosque, makes some breakfast, usually a porridge called ruy (pronounce it like you would in French, but with a rolled “r” or say it: ru-ee) and/or bread and coffee/tea. Once the second call is out from the Mosque announcing the official rising of the sun, NO MORE EATING OR DRINKIG ANYTHING, say your prayers, back to bed, then get up later to go to the fields to work.
Another interesting thing: field work. Going with my family to “weed” the fields made me so thankful that I was an athlete for all of my life, and that water was my sport. There is no other way that I could have kept close behind my fasting family. It’s bending over with a hand-held hoe from about 8:00am-noon. Of course they all are so much better at it than I am, even when they’re fasting, but I was at least able to semi-keep up. The whole time I would think of college water polo practices, and Rond saying that we’re swimming our yards when we’re tired to be ready for that fourth quarter of water polo play. And I would keep going in the field. I would totally be laughing, thinking of where I came from and where I am now, but I would keep going, relishing of the excellent cross training I was getting.
So after being shown up by my fasting host sister we’d go home, “shower” (you’ve seen the makaresh, right?) rest, then work around the house in the evening once it cooled down. Around 7:00pm, the Mosque would announce the official sun setting, and we’d break fast! Dates, water, and bissap to whet the whistle, then coffee or tea with bread (kind of like a regular breakfast). About half an hour later we’d have a dish of potatoes with meat or fish (kind of like a normal lunch), and around 10 or 11pm, once the food has digested a bit, we’d have rice and fish (kind of like dinner). I always saw breakfast as getting in the full day’s meals, all in the same order, just after dark.
Its required by the Muslim faith to fast, and I was told they do this for two reasons: 1. To cleanse the body of any impurities and 2. To feel the pain and suffering of the poor that have to live through this for their entire lives. The really old, the really young, the sick, and pregnant/nursing mothers aren’t required to fast, so I still got lunch with the kids in the family!
Basically during Ramadan any work that doesn’t need to be done isn’t. So many, many people spent their days sleeping, resting, and trying not to sweat out their water reserves.
Other things I’m –still—getting used to:
People always like to ask me about the United States, everyone wants to go there, and daily I’m asked for a Visa to the US.
Even my forearms sweat. It is so gross.
Getting marriage proposals, from random strangers
Being told why I’m going to Hell (not by all people or even every day, but when it does happen I’m still a little weirded out by it)
Not understanding everything that people say to me.
Being patient with myself as I learn something new.
Recognizing the cold wind that comes 2 minutes before heavy rain fall, and trying to pick up my bedding, etc before the rain gets here!
Strategizing my eating plan so that I get enough meat and veggies before they’re all eaten up by everyone else at the plate.
Keeping a good hold while in the bed of a very bouncy, very fast pick up truck so I don't fall out
Well, life continues and I honestly and absolutely love the support I get from you! Hearing from you in any form is the highlight--and main reason--of leaving the relative paradise that is Tokomadji to come into the city!


Twin! I miss you so much!

Pictures

(1) This is the toilet: a nice hole in the ground about 5 inches in diameter and 2 bricks on either side to put your feet. Everyone squats at these things, even men!
(2)This is the "shower" See the little pot with a handle and spout? That's the makaresh that holds about 1 liter (or less) of water. That's what I bathe with.













(3) This is eating! We only have 6 people at this plate, usually there are about 12 for a plate this size. See the toes on the right? That's because we're all sitting cross-legged on the floor!






(4) Same plate just a few minutes later. My hand at the bottom is giving a sample food ball: rice, veggies, chicken all mixed in and squeezed tight to fit in my mouth.







(5) Same plate again, with Tanya on the left, Sara Cate (my CBT site mate, Gorgol region mate, and close friend), and me eating on the floor.







(6)This is my neighbor's suudu, a typical room made of twigs (say it: Sue-do). Right here the grandma, cousin, and daughter are making/eating breakfast. This is where they eat breakfast every day.







(7) This is Hawa (Say it: how-uh), my friend's host aunt. She's in the village's boutique, which is owned/ran/operated by her part of the family. That's pretty much all of the boutique.









(8)Inside a suudu is my great friend Daya (Say it: Dye-uh) and her youngest child. Notice we're all sitting on the floor. Every household has a suudu or two, and every woman is in charge of making her own. It's really cool though because once it's at a certain stage in the making, all of the village women will come to help finish it.








(9) Lastly is the place I go every day: the bathroom! On the left is the shower, on the right is the "toilet". This is a really typical layout for the bathroom here. Washing hands afterwards is using the rest of the water in the makaresh and some soap (if it's available) pretty much anywhere you feel like washing: by a tree, in the middle of the yard, etc.

Right most of my classmates from school are now either working or going to grad school; it all sounds interesting but hard; I was planning on going there one day, but right now I'm not so sure. I'm really loving the Peace Corps so much! I feel like this is the simple kind of living that I've always dreamed of for myself.
I just finished training and on Monday I'll be going to my final/permanent/for real village that I'll be living in for the next 2 years. So I'm not even sure yet what my daily schedule will be like, but this is what it's been for the last 10 weeks:

Get up 7am
go to the bathroom: a Turkish toilet/squat outhouse and use water/hand
wash my hands and face
go to the boutique for bread
drink tea with the bread
clean my room
sweep the patio
clean up the yard
go greet people/hang out/ talk
come home and make lunch 12ish
eat lunch 2ish
drink tea, talk
nap during the heat, until about 3pm
go to the ONLY water spigot in our village and bring back water for bathing/drinking/cooking
do whatever work may need to be done, like helping my aunt build her twig hut (very hard, and I really can't do it very well!)
shower
go greet, talk, hang out
home about 6ish to help with getting the cows milked (I don't actually do the milking)
drink some fresh milk
strain fresh milk
put fresh milk into container to be taken to a factory on the "milk car" which picks up the entire villages milk containers
play with my cousins, teach English to my aunt, start making dinner
eat dinner 9ish
go greet, hang out, talk
bed 11pm

In my new home starting on Monday I have to get my water from a well every morning! and I can balance it on my head! its so awesome to do all of this. we don't have electricity, running water, a doctor, a road, or very much at all really, but we laugh often and love a lot. so its worth it to me.

For 10 weeks I was learning Pulaar and the local culture. I was in the site with 4 other Peace Corps Trainees and a local teacher; each of us had a different host family where we slept, ate, studied, and lived like exchange students. Now that we've learned the basics we've all gone to our separate regions within Mauritania. Regions are like states: in the US there are 50 states, each with its own capitol, characteristics, and customs. In Mauritania there are 14 regions, mine being "Gorgol." I am so happy because my really good friend Sara Cate, or as the natives call her Suli Kay (they can't say her name well), and I are in the Gorgol together! That doesn't mean we'll be together all the time because the villages we live in are about 100 kilometers away from each other.

Now we've arrived in the Gorgol to buy the necessities for our homes for the next 2 years, including:
floor mat
sofa cushion-like bed
3 buckets for bathing, getting water from the well, etc
2 tubs for washing clothes, getting water from the well, etc
cups with handles, for dipping into the buckets and/or tubs
gas stove
water cannery, for keeping drinking water in
cooking pots/pans/spoons
bamboo cot
sheet
hand broom
makaresh (the toilet)
hand fans
bowl for eating in
and anything else that looks cool

Ramadan is starting, so everyone will be fasting during the day, meaning NO WATER or FOOD while the sun is out. Except for children, feeding mothers, and me. If you feel moved to send just-add-water foods to help sustain me, feel free!
brownie mix
baking mixes
oatmeal
bacon bits
Crystal Light juice mixes
your love

Let me know if you have any questions about Africa and I'll answer them!

I can’t believe I’ve already been in Mauritania for 10 weeks! They’ve gone by so fast! I just left my training site PK-6 and in about 4 days we’ll be sworn in as the newest Peace Corps Volunteers in Mauritania!

Anyway, for the last 10 weeks 4 other Peace Corps Trainees—PCT—and I were in PK-6 to learn Pulaar and the African culture. Today we left PK-6 in a flurry of tears, hand shakes, hugs, and promises to visit. We all really love PK-6 and it was hard to leave.

Sanitation is interesting here: ok, so its almost non-existent to the American standard. In the Muslim religion there are 5 prayer times a day and each time the person praying needs to wash their face, hands, and feet. This is really practical since everything is not very sanitary: kids play in the dirt, next to the spot they peed in earlier in the day. Cows, goats, chickens, donkeys, dogs, and cats roam everywhere, including the yard. Everyone spends pretty much al their time outside since inside is just way to hot. We spend our time under an “mbarra” which is a low roof with no walls: shade and the breeze!

Anyway, everything has fine amount of dust in/on it, even the food! Food is good here, but it gets monotonous: rice, fish, and veggies every day for lunch. The young girls about 13-18 start cooking about 1-2 hours before eating, usually inside a small twig hut over a wood fire. When its ready, they spoon the rice into a huge bowl then strategically lay out the fried fish and vegetables all around, put the bowl onto their head, and walk over to the mbarra where the family is waiting. There’s a piece of cloth put on the floor, usually about 3 sq ft where anywhere from 8-15 people gather around. One of the 8-15 year olds, or who ever is “low” on the family totem pole will pour water out of the makaresh (which looks like a big tea pot) so each person can take their turn to wash their hands. Usually there’s soap but some times not, so that can be disgusting considering all the hands you HAVE to shake, the animals you’ve shooed away, the dirt we all do everything on, and the fact that your left hand wiped your butt that morning.

Then, all of us gather around the big food bowl and dig in! Right hands only, or use a spoon with your left. You have to grab a handful and ball it up in your fist. Try getting a piece of wonder bread and making it into a ball using just your right hand. Easy? Good, now try doing that with rice. Ha ha he he ha! Please tell me if/when you do this, so I can laugh!

When you’re done you get up, wash your hands, lounge around, and wait for tea!

I love it!

I made it!

I've been here for a month now and absolutely LOVE Mauritania! The people are so welcoming, loving, and giving: I now have family in Africa!

Ok, some weird things that I've gotten so used to that they're no longer weird:
peeing, etc. into a hole (aim well!)
speaking Pulaar
feeling naked/somethings wrong if I don't have a head scarf on
my mosquito net comforts me at night/in the morning when I'm not sure where I am
hissing to get someone's attention
my new name is: Jenaba So
snapping and pointing to show something I want/you should pass to me
sweating PROFUSELY
eating with my hand only
wiping with the left hand; greeting, opening, pointing, grabbing, accepting, giving, and eating with the right hand
a polite host throwing choice pieces of meat in to your eating space, so you don't have to pick out the bones
people trying to rip me off
its ok to burp!
men hold hands in the street
no chairs for sitting on, lounging on the ground on a straw mat only
tea three times a day, three rounds each time
not touching people of the opposite sex
dancing is the BEST pass time
sex beads! (kind of like a necklace for your waist/ hips)
friends (of the same sex) casually touching your boobs
no one works/walks/does anything from 11-3pm because its just too hot!
being excited when you pass a solid bowel
getting 10 marriage proposals each day
little kids whispering and/or shouting "toubab!" (white person) as we walk down the street

a typical day for me in my little tiny village for the 3 months training is getting up at 6:30, having my 3 rounds of tea with some bread with my host family: the woman who birthed about half the village, her name is Choya; my host mother, my namesake Jenaba, and wait, she's only 2 years older than me; her 1/2 sister that is 7 years old, named Binta; my uncle Yerba who's very old and eats with a spoon--totally weird!
then language lessons from 8-12, lunch, tea, nap, language from 3-6, work in the garden, greet people just about the most important thing you could do here!, drink more tea, go home, study, greet more people, and dinner around 9 or 9:30. Then I greet more people. our village is very VERY small and i can greet everyone in less than a day.

In September I'll be done with training and move to my permanent site in the region known as the Gorgol, just along the Senegalese River! So plants, trees, good food, and happy people.

If you are bored and want to send stuff, I will absolutely LOVE it! It takes about 1 month to get here, so keep that in mind. Some ideas:
meat
cheese
magazines
cereal
tea--the Celestial ones are goooood
oat meal
granola bars
power bars
DRIED FRUITS!!
fun letters

Its a general address for the Peace Corps and they'll get letters and stuff to me:
Michelle Hernandez, PCV
BP 222
Nouakchott, Mauritanie
West Africa
If you're interested in seeing photos of our training site look at my friend Zach's site:
zachinrim.blogspot.com

I'm so excited!

Yes! I'm joining the Peace Corps (PC) and leaving for Mauritania, Africa. On June 17th I'm leaving for Atlanta, Georgia and after 3 days of Orientation with other PC Volunteers (PCV) it's on to Senegal for a 6 hour (give or take a couple hours) bus ride to Rosso, Mauritania for 3 months of intense training.
Along with a record-high 135 other trainees, I'll learn about culture, safety, language (probably one or 2 of several Arabic dialects), etc while living with a local host family.
This is a chance of a life time and I can't thank you enough for your love and support! I'll be keeping you updated for the next 27 months!