Culture Shock

1. Children are not revered/spoiled/tolerated in Mauritanian culture the way they are in the US: its more of a "be seen and not heard or I'll spank you" culture.

2. Big is beautiful. Enough said.

3. Since coming to America I'm not asked a)if I'm married/where my husband is. b)Why I'm not married yet. c)If I want to marry the guy/a brother/a husband/a son. d)If I'll marry a man to take him to America.

4. Random people have stopped asking me for money loans.

5. Dogs are loved instead of chased away.

6. In Mauritania nobody sleeps alone; I don't sleep next to my mom outside any more!

7. There is more than just Akon, 2Pac, or Bob Marley available to listen to.

8. I haven't eaten rice in weeks!

9. I was walking through the store and suddenly thought to myself, "Where are all the black people!?!"

10. Toilet paper. Toilets. Wow.

New Blog!

With the change to Peace Corps Rwanda there's a change in Blog, too! My address to follow along the African Adventures in Rwanda will be:

http://bololam.blogspot.com

Bololam (say it: bowl-ol'-umm) is Pulaar for my road, my path, or my journey. I'm very excited to take the next step, feel free to come along and/or visit my blog on Mauritania.

Yo Allah wad laawol.

Alhamdoulilahi

From tester

If you read my last post you'll know that we were consolidated in Senegal to allow the Washington, DC Security team time to evaluate Mauritania. Today we found out that due to very real threats to the safety of Westerners in the country, we are suspending the Peace Corps Mauritania Program. It has nothing to do with Muslims. Nothing to do with Mauritanians. Nothing to do with the villages we know and love. This is a result of outside influences working in Mauritania, slowly but surely chipping away at some of the naturally loving, united, giving social structure, thus necessitating our removal. Hopefully this is only a temporary removal of the Peace Corps Program.

Every one of us were totally still inside and out as the acting Peace corps Director told us the news, and most of us teared up as we immediately thought of villages, work, families and best friends left behind in our Mauritanian homes. In any case, the 51 of us that have stuck it out to the very last day are grateful for every minute of it. Alhamdoulilahi!

Inchallah

What with the Al Quaida targeting an American missionary, refusing to give Americans Visas into Mauritania and all that we the Peace Corps Volunteers of Mauritania have been pulled into Senegal while a Safety and Security Team evaluates the viability of continuing in Mauritania. On our way to our extensively planned "Eco/Health Camp" for young girls, we were called together, cancelling the camp, and busing us to Thies (say it: ch-ez) in Senegal. Well Saturday was the last day of the Security Review and also the day that Mauritania's first ever suicide bomber attacked, injuring 2 guards at the French Embassy and 1 random jogger(as reported by NY Times). So, despite being away from our villages since July 27th, we were pretty hopeful that we'd all be able to go back as soon as the team was finished with the evaluation, but now we are in a huge mess of doubt.

Fortunatey, the 51 of us volunteers left (from the usual 140) after COS and IS (Close of Service and Interrupted Service, respectively) are getting treated very well at the Senegalese PCV training site, bonding like you'd never think possible, and enjoying the similarities in Senegalese culture.

Between "training sessions" (designed to keep us up-to-date, well informed, and just busy while we wait for the evaluation to be finished) and eating delicious food we're able to explore the local life and see how Senegal can be just like Mauritania: boutiques for certain objects only, like fabrics, soaps, or food stuffs. The markets are just as bustling, colorful, noisy, pushy, smelly, hot, and entertaining and still take a long time to find what you're looking for, bargain the price, then walk away with it on your head. Buses are still super stuffed, super stuffy, and lose pieces on your journey, like our bus that lost the front bumber here.

We're not only in "training sessions", but also teaching sessions, and serving the commnity. We spent the weekend at a nearby beach and worked with a local Cooperative to clean the shoreline. I love that no matter where we are in West Africa the people are (generally) warm, opening, interested, and talkative! The local jewelry maker, a woman named Adama (say it: Adam-ah), comes to the training center every day to sell her stuff to us; she's also started calling me "Bobine" (say it: bow-bine, rhymes with pine) and invited me to her amazingly artistic house. She, her painting husband, and 9 artisitc children paint, sculpt, sew, and make jewelery all for sale to the public. They've given jewelry to everyone who has bought from them, and even gave me same paintings! Samba Ly, Adama's husband, has a website with some of his work (scroll down to see "Lac Rose" the painting he gave me; keep going, there's some English, too!) Just like in Mauritania, the people are willing to give whatever they have to a friend and treat you to some of the best hospitality I've seen in the world (not that I've been everywhere, but a fair amount ;).

After the initial shock at the beauty of the gorgeous jewelery, the training center, its greenery, and the comparitive paradise that is Thies, we also went to some local points of interest: a local Monastary, the first organized Christian anything I've seen/done in over a year of being in Africa! There were a fair number of us that attended the Mass and were treated to the "Heavenly sounds" of the monks' voices and their musical instruments: a 23 stringed guitar called a kora (say it: core- ah), a bongo drum, and a hollowed out gourd... not to mention the constant birdsong going on just outside!

Later, when about 40 of us went to Popingue (say it: pope-in-gay) for the beach clean up, etc, we learned more about the Muslim/Christian relations in Senegal (in Mauritania they're tense...) Popingue boasts one of the largest Christian population and pilgrimage sites in West Africa. Locals say its not at all a problem living totally mixed with Muslims and Christians: most families are about half and half, with a few aunts and uncles practicing Christians, and a few practicing Muslims. They claim that they're all family, they all love each other, it is what it is, and they all serve One God... so it's a non-issue!

Monday we're leaving the Training Center in Thies to go to Dakar and find out if we're actually going back to Mauritania, changing all sites to be along the river, or leaving the country...

It can be really frustrating ...

My aim is to work WITH the people to help them realize their own goals, use their own resources, and promote their lives. Which is perfect for helping a developing community enable itself to develop when I'm no longer there.

When first assigned to my village I was told to work with the women's cooperative. No problem! Except that they have stopped working.

As of June 20th or so I've been in this country for one year. That's one year of putting up with ridiculous travel arrangements, being called racial names in city streets, asked for money because I'm a "rich white person", and trying to overlook what Americans would considering general bad manners-- but are cultural norms here. Well the other day I was fed up with it. All of it. And I was wondering what I'm even doing here.

People in the village are beginning ask why I have come to Tokomadji. To learn the culture? To learn the language? Not to give them things? (Outright giving is looked down on in the Peace Corps as it may ultimately prolong the cycle of not working, asking, receiving, not working, asking, receiving, etc.) Thus furthering my exasperation with my work, role, being here... and I miss my family in the US.

After putting up with the inactivity of the Women's cooperative, seeing countless attempts at projects fail, dealing with rude teenagers and ignorant adults, I knew I needed a pick me up. I went to one of my local best friends house for lunch. Unfortunately I saw the president of the women's cooperative and thought I'd talk business with her for a second: she immediately ripped me a new one, chewing me out for a misunderstanding the day before.... well, I lost it. Totally. I not only started crying at my friend's house, but was so distraught I went into a room, tried to call another volunteer in another village, but couldn't even talk. An hour later my friend walked in to see if I was feeling better, and I STILL couldn't talk for the sobs that were filling me head to soul.

Needless to say my friends, the women on hand, and anyone else who heard about my little upset were completely indignant! One woman asked if I've been having a hard time, why I hadn't said anything sooner, why I hadn't talked to her in the first place so she could go to any troublesome child's home, talk to his/her father, and eradicate any problems I may have. She also said she'd be willing to use her immense size to settle any qualms and call a village meeting to relay any message to the villagers and/or tell them not to bother me, be more respectful, etc.

While discussing it with Penda, Neene Ba, and Salimata, they were all quick to express that I've been nothing but upstanding, willing to work, and they are in the fault for not working as a cooperative! I was shocked! And pleased! Nonetheless I told them that with the field expansion project they want me to help them with, I don't know if its worth it: they don't even work the field they already have or tend to their dying fruit trees; as such I explained that after talking it over with my boss, I would let them know if we will continue this project, find a new one they can handle, or if I should just go home.

The next day I came to Kaedi (yes, for 4 hours in the back of a short-bedded pick-up truck with about 12 other people over rocky terrain), met up with my American friends, and prepared for vacation in Saint Louis, Senegal. On our way, Sara and I found out about an American teacher shot 6 times at point blank in the face... in Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania! As some already know, Mauritania has been denying visas to Americans for a few months now, and we were worried that this may be part of a growing anti-American sentiment in this Muslim republic. Turns out we were right: the killing of this known Christian missionary was claimed as an act of Al Qaida.

We made it down to Senegal in a hurry, enjoyed our vacation with a few other friends, and on the 5th day of vacation we got wind of IS: Interrupted Service is an offered to us because Peace Corps Washington has apparently deemed Mauritania an unsafe country. As such we are given the 3 choices: (1) the opportunity to end our service NOW, receiving full benefits as if we completed 2 years, (2) the option of re-enrolling in Peace Corps in a different country, or (3) continuing our service in Mauritania until completion in 2010.

As of now we have an unofficial count of about 20 volunteers opting to go home. Seriously, like 99% of them are NOT going home because they feel unsafe: we all are totally safe in our villages, and are NOT targets in this mostly peaceful society. That 99% or so is going home because they feel ineffective in their sites/villages. hmmm... sounds familiar!

After thinking about it, talking with other volunteers (especially those finishing their 2 year services!), and thinking of the possibilities, I've decided to stay in Mauritania. My boss advised me to not think of the recent events in my village to make this decision, but to consider the entire year that I've served so far. The Garack volunteer said that the one-year mark is always a low point in a volunteer's service, so look beyond the here and now. And finally another had me consider the year I've spent already....multiply that by 100, and that is the awesomeness of the second year of service. These two girls really made an impact: hearing about their own struggles and ultimate victories in this place put a great, positive perspective on my own service.


I've decided to stay, focus more on teaching the children, working with the youths, and not feeling so caught up by village "expectations" to work with a specific group (especially when that group doesn't work too well!). Hopefully I'll be starting tree nurseries with the "soccer team" (group of young men that enjoy a very individualistic game of soccer), village clean ups with the teens, health and sanitation with the young mothers, English with the high schoolers, and other projects that will encourage learning, unity, environmental education, and healthy practices. Though these projects may not necessarily continue when I'm gone, maybe the message will be lived out in their daily lives, perhaps a love of education will be born, and I know the consequences of my continuing on will reach people and places we can never imagine.

The Dispensary, where people come for over the counter medicines, malaria treatment, and minor things that don't warrant a trip to the big city.




The New building at the Dispensary, donated by the Red Cross. On the left is the waiting room tent, where there are women waiting to weigh and measure their babies' in order to monitor their health and growth.



Every Thursday women come from all of the surrounding villages, up to 15 kilometers away, by taxi, canoe, or foot so that they can be sure their babies, toddlers, and small children aren't malnourished. Every mother gets to take home with her two bags full of CSB, a Corn-Soy Blend that they mix with milk, water, and sugar as a super nutritious meal for their kids.



On the far right in the brown outfit is Penda, my host mom, who volunteers with the Red Cross. As one of the more able readers/writers, she is considered a leader within the village and has her hand in everything! Every Thursday she spends the entire morning (about 9am-3pm) making the CSB mush for waiting families to snack on, teaching mothers the benefits of nursing until the child is at least 1 year old, and good hygiene.




Here another volunteer, Kadia (who won this position by taking a very challenging test comprised of math, word problems, and listening comprehension, and earning the highest score), is weighing and measuring the kids. They have to get down to their undies to get an accurate measurement...but don't worry about their puffy hair adding some height to their measurements. Go figure!




This is one of our doctors holding his nephews (about to be weighed and measured), sitting with his sister-in-law. The twins are named Alpha and Bocar, one being super outgoing, willing to greet me, and run around, and the other is really shy, afraid of white people, and clings to his mother's skirts. I don't know which is which.



Behold! The doctor's office space, storage room, consulting parlor, and experiment lab. Nifty!




These women are helping to sift through the CSB mixture given to the Dispensary by the Red Cross. I had no idea that if left alone, flours will acquire little black bugs that like to live, eat, and reproduce all right in that little space! The women take turns to help out with the flour sifters, going through several fifty kg sacks in a morning.



This is my host grandfather's third wife. My host mom's "aunt". I just thought she's got a pretty cool face.

Pulaar Weddings

Excerpt from a letter I wrote to a friend:

"Yesterday I spent the whole day at my local sister's wedding: it was AWESOME! I've never seen so much of the wedding as I did here. First I was sitting with her mom, aunts, grandma, the "women of the family" and these four singing ladies sang the bride's genealogy, sang her praises, and sang her many blessings. One woman sang the lead and played a beat with two dried out gourds tied together, with her rings adding to the music as she drummed the gourds on the ground. The next three sang the echo; two of which were clapping and one was banging a small cooler like it was a drum. The four of them were sitting mixed in with the rest of us, so we had surround sound! Meanwhile people were coming in the room to give gifts for the bride: eating bowls, straw mats, mixing bowls, pitchers with cups, tea sets, buckets (tons!), clothes and fabrics, a broom and everything she'll need to start her new home. Ghana (the bride) is turning 17 years old this year (and she's gorgeous! I swear 90% of the villagers could be models in the states!)

Later we all ate lunch: rice topped with beef (killed that morning), slices of green and yellow bell peppers, onions, tomatoes, and carrots. Then I went with some cousins to the khaima (say it: hi-ma) for music and dancing. Everyone sits on the ground under these huge tents propped up on poles and face the middle. As people are moved by the music, one, two or three people will dance to show off how fast, smooth, and well they can dance. Their heads could be balancing water, but their legs are bouncing along, their butts sticking out, back, left, right, and even up! It's so artful!

Then I "snuck out" to get pictures of the bride with her bridesmaids: they were stunning! A crown of two braids, with gold earrings pinned in the front of a braid, big metallic blue eye shadow, and matching dresses. Ghana had tons of braids, gold hanging everywhere from her hair, neck, hands and body, henna going up her arms and feet, and a very detailed tie-dyed dress.

I sat with the older women as they gave Ghana's mother 500 or 1,000 Ouguiya (about $2 or $4) to help her with the "loss" of her daughter from the house. As the sun was setting people left; there was apparently a dinner and more dancing that night but I was tired, don't like to go out at night, and had stuff to do on-line. The next day Ghana will be leaving to her new husband's house. Well, his family’s house. I didn't even see him the whole day! He didn't come to this half of the wedding!

...

Issa is Ghana's new husband, and their home is a veritable mansion! When I got back to the bride's house I found people looking at photos: the photographer got his pictures printed so the people could buy them. All the photos were being passed, handled, traded, etc. Around 5pm, as people were packing the 3 taxis with the wedding gifts, Ghana started crying, wailing, and I thought, "How dramatic!!" But really, she's never left her home town and now she's leaving her home, her parents, and her family, to go to her new husband--to be with a man for the first time.
So we pile into the 5 seaters, fitting 8 people in each car, take a canoe, a van, and get to Issa's house. A man, I'm not sure who since its night now, picks up Ghana (who is totally covered so no one can actually see any part of her body), puts her over his shoulder and lays her at her new grandma-in-law's feet, to rest her head on grandma's lap. Then her new mother sprinkles her with dried flowers while blessing the woman, and a liquid (smelled like milk), to bless the marriage. Then we--the bride's 8-woman entourage-- lead Ghana to her new mother's room to bring good luck and blessings to the marriage.

We then showered, ate dinner (meat and potatoes, also killed that morning), and hung out until around 1am while her "mothers" prepared her room (aka burning incense, putting on clean sheets, etc). Then the bride (who is still covered head to toe) was taken to her room.

After dinner I was talking to the groom, Issa, and found out that he's been living in Ohio for the past 11 years and came back to find a wife. About a month ago he saw Ghana, fell in love, asked her father's permission, I don't know what the whole process was, but they all agreed, and now, only 3.5 weeks later, she's married to him!

So I slept on the roof (very common) with her 3 cousins--all 17 or 18 years old (the four of us were the bride's "company" here to talk to her, keep her company, and help her with household chores so she can just relax)--and Anna, the youngest, couldn't sleep because she was so worried for Ghana's pain. We stayed up talking until 3am, as she was sure that Ghana would cry out, come running out, or start cursing Issa and his family.

...

So this morning the bride woke up and her husband gave her $200 and fancy gold jewelry--for being a virgin. Her new in-laws danced, sang out that "Tokomadji has married into the village, a good woman joined the family, and they're so blessed."
THEN more women came, started drumming on upside-down bowls, dancing, singing, and putting money into the mother of the bride's head scarf!
Now I'm sitting with Ghana, telling her how birth control IS good, no matter what she's heard in the streets (that she'll bleed to death or become sterile if she takes it). She has to stay in this room for a week! (It's like a honey moon: she does no work, just lounges around eating for seven days).

...

Women keep randomly dancing, singing, and drumming in the hallway outside Ghana's room.

...

The next day (a full 4 days since the wedding began at Ghana's parents' house) they "displayed the gifts" meaning they took out ALL the bowls, buckets, brooms, and gifts, set them out in front of the mother in law's house, and everyone came to see. Again, they were dancing, drumming, and singing as the mother of the bride, the mother in law, and 2 aunts divided up all the gifts: one pile for Ghana to start her new household, one for the mother in law, and random gifts given to the family members until ALL of it is claimed by one person or another."

........
And then I came home to Tokomadji. I know that Ghana is just about to end her week of being served while she's confined to her new room, then she'll be treated like a queen (inshallah) by her rich, American husband.

Obviously I love Tokomadji, my little on-the-Senegal-River village of about 1,000 people, complete with dusty roads, repetitive meal choices, and funny clothes. But I guess I took it for granted that my FAMILY from the UNITED STATES of AMERICA would be able to too, as well as overlook the heat, flies, communal aspect of EVERYTHING, eating--well, really licking-- food from the hand, squatting to do anything, and doing everything on the ground all the time.

It was a very typical African start to things: we somehow got split up going to the bus station, so my English/Spanish bilingual family (good on 3 continents) was TOTALLY lost in a French/Woloof/Pulaar/Bammbara/Hassaniya bus station. Then there was trying to keep tabs on them all as they tried to ward off peddlers, "watch" the baggage as its being put atop the car, and pile into the back of a 5-rowed, 19-seater "mini bus." After teaching them their first word (yuuni, meaning enough. say it: you- knee) to keep off the begging children, we started our 19-hour ride from Dakar to Matam, complete with trying to sleep in the stiff confines of stinky students, uncomfortable seats, and holding "carry-on" items in our laps.

Fortunately, we were greeted at the river by two brothers that SWAM ACROSS because they were so excited when they saw us coming! If only you could see them climbing into the canoe fully clothed, dripping wet, next to my grandma as she's sitting on the edge with her behind only 2 inches from the river's flow, my mom as she's bailing out water by our feet with half of a left over water jug, my dad as he's keeping an eye on the bag with the lab top to see if it--or any of the stuff--is getting wet, and the poor guy rowing, alone, all of us with all of our suitcases as well as the locals that needed to cross over.


When we landed all the kids in my house were there to carry our stuff, my host mom and 'dad' came running down the bank, showering us with hugs and greetings. As they were settling in, my family was welcomed to the village by hundreds of neighbors, elders, children, and a few crazy people, as I attempted to explain weeks of training, months of trial and error, and years of technique refinement to them in the space of a few hours.
Like how to tie a wrap skirt so your underwear (or lack of it) isn't showing, how to sit without flashing people, how to pour water from the cannery into the satela (say it sat-elle-ahh) aka "butt pot", where to sit according to age, sex, and social status, how to shake hands, say hello, say good bye, and what to generally expect from people during a quick greeting and welcoming to the village.

My favorites are seeing Penda hugging my mom, Neene Booli (Mother and say it: bowl-E) hugging and kissing my grandma (and grandma's shock!), translating (like, constantly) for my family to the villagers...and the villagers to my family...and my family to the villagers...and, you get it, right? and my "Twin", Djeewo (Jay-oh) calling my dad uncle (a sign of respect) in Pulaar: Kaw (say it: cow.) So he called her nalel (say it: ñ-ahh-lil') which is Pulaar for calf.


They really did it (almost) all! The prayer call before sunrise, the braying donkeys that wake up with the call, unknown bugs crawling on you in un-reachable places, sharing un-washed cups with everyone present, drinking from canneries to keep water cool, sleeping, eating, sitting, receiving guests, etc. all on the same straw mat, licking food from your palm to your finger tips,
bathe in the river (or in river water that I brought them back on my head), ...I love them for trying it all!

Common questions: 1) How was it? A: Good, stressful for me, but I'm so glad that they came out, know my family here, understand what I'm going through, and took way better pictures than I did.
2) Did they get sick? A: No! Just once, one person had the runs, but with well-cooked food and filtered or bottled water it was all good!
3)What was hard for them? A:Eating with the hand (it spilled en route), wearing the clothes (I think some people saw more of America than they ever hoped for), the tiredness (they looked literally beat up by life when we got them back to the airport), the flies (really do land on your face, food, butt, etc.)

And the Winner is....

The things I'm MOST excited for when my family comes:

1.Seeing the joy on Gogo Penda's (my local mom) face when she meets my US mom.
2.Watching the shock and final understanding of my US family when they meet my Mauritania family and see our home.
3.Teaching my mom and dad how to properly squat over the poop hole (you know, so they don't fall over, pee on themselves, or...miss)
4.Laughing at my sister trying to sweep the dirt with that puny little hand-held broom.
5.Showing "the women" aka Kelsey and my mom, the way to balance 10-20 liters of water on your head, walk up the steep river's bank, get to our house, and pour it all into the cannery...without spilling any on your shirt.
6.Letting my dad help kill, butcher and eat a goat. hahaha, hehehe.
7.Waking up with my sister next to me, at sunrise, dragging her tired butt off of the bamboo "bed", and showing her off as we go buy the breakfast bread at Mary's house by the Mosque.
8. Showing how Mauritanian women don't use tables for cutting, cooking, preparing anything... The knife is so dull that your hand is all you really need for everything: chopping onions, preparing meat, peeling potatoes, etc.

9.Hearing the "local-English-teacher-who-has-never-actually-left-Mauritania" try to speak with my grandma....even HE speaks better English than my grandma! (yeah, he still doesn't believe me when I tell him that....)
10.seeing the joy on their faces when the kids start to drum and dance around my family... or the fear!
11.Loading baggage, suitcases, and family into a canoe to paddle across the river to get to our village as the sun is setting.
12. watching the wonder as Africans learn that "America" does not mean the United States alone, nor does it mean "white"
13. Helping my parents eat dinner with their HAND. from a BOWL with like EIGHT people around it!

14. Making the parade through town to show off my family to my new (Mauritanian) family and friends. You know they'll be taking pictures of the first-ever entire American family to come to Tokomadji.
15.trying to teach my mom, grandma, and sister how to do laundry by hand so that it squirts water out and squeaks as you wash.
16. BATHING IN THE RIVER!!! without showing anything from your armpits to your knees


17.Putting these CLOTHES on my family!


18.Getting their hair braided and their hands/feet henna-ed. It'll take at least 3-4 hours of just sitting really still.
19.Letting action-based, pantomimed relationships form that will transcend culture, age, ability, social status, distance, and language. Seriously half of the village already knows the FULL name of each person coming to visit... along with their age, job and/or school year, types of food they like, and favorite color. They're excited!
20. being the connection that allows people new experiences: priceless.

It's Not a Third World Paradise

With my parents getting ready to come out and visit me in Tokomadji (that's right! they're coming here! and my little sister...and my GRANDMA!!!) I'm constantly thinking of things that I will have to tell them to prepare them for a week in an African Bush Village. I know that I love being here and have learned to look past a lot of things that would bother most Americans, but how do I explain things like asking for gifts (ie your watch, hat, clothes, shoes, etc) from random strangers is totally acceptable? Or "washing" your hands before eating with them doesn't always include soap? And I know the bathroom sounds funny, but really, we're in Africa! Most Americans can count the number of monthly solid #2's they make on one hand!

So really this is for my mom, grandma, dad and sister:
As visitors expect to be ripped off at the airport getting your taxi.
Next, if you thought those 10 hour drives down to Baja were intense, just wait: at least you have your own car, snacks, air conditioner, music, space, and you've all showered within a 36-48 hour period. In Mauritania the ride is about 15 hours, squishing 10 non-deodorized people in the 8-seater, no music, snacks if you brought them and don't mind them being on your lap the whole time, broken seat belts, windows down, a cracked windshield, and random pee stops behind bushes with no toilet paper or water. And you'll probably be mooning someone somewhere! I think we'll rent a 7-seater for the 5 of us.

When we get up to Matam, Senegal to cross into Mauritania, I'm not really sure about the timing: boats usually stop when the sun goes down, but we may be getting there after that. I'll have to ask a local boat owner (and find out who it is!) if they can be ready for our phone call to come pick us up. When we get to Tokomadji the kids will be clamoring around, touching and hugging everyone, offering to be the best kid possible and carry all of your bags up to our house. Of course little 7, 8 or 9 year olds are going to try to carry your big 50+ pound bags ON THEIR HEADS. And they can do it, too!

My family will all be so excited to meet you guys! Mama, my 21 year old Mauritanian brother, is convinced that my little sister in the US is made for him. Penda, my host mom blesses the woman that birthed me, and I'm sure will be all over her new best friend. Uncle Siley (mauritanian) has been learning English pretty much since he found out my family is coming, and will be so eager to try out his new skill with my dad. And Mama Fati (the very old, grandmother next door) I'm sure will be ready to host my grandma and make sure her fellow senior citizen is going to make it in this place.

We'll eat:
gosi (say it: go-see)(kind of like rice pudding, but a little different),
couscous and milk,
couscous and boodi (say it: booty) (like a soft cucumber),
haako (say it: haa-ko)(bean mush, looks like baby poop),
rice and fish (the usual),
maafe (say it: maa-fey)(on rice: vegetable sauce with spices),
kele kele (say it: kelly kelly)(better-than-American- sweet potatoes cooked in a salty sauce, served with fish),
vermisil (gross pasta served in oil. that's it),
niri (say it: nee-ree)(over-cooked rice that sticks together with a tomato base. It's dipped in pure, freshly made cow's milk oil.)

Eating is the coolest thing: All of my friends will be over to greet and meet you, so they'll stay for lunch (probably). But of course having so many people over is hard on the family, so their respective families will send over plates of food from their own households to share with you, show you how good the food is, and show that they honor and respect you.

Remember, it's not a third world paradise! Your stomachs will then be so upset at you, run like crazy, and even disturb your mosquito-filled nights. We'll be going to the wells and the river to get water for ourselves, sweeping the dust in the mornings, filling our noses with nastiness, and sweating worse than a fat kid running. The hot season will be starting, people will be asking to be sent to America, asking for marriage (either me, Kelsey or Dad: he could use another wife or two, right?), laughing at how weirdly we do things, and expect us to be unable to do pretty much anything.

Leaving will be a sad affair: people will be sorry to see you go, and waiting for your next visit.
Any questions about the itinerary?