Friday, February 20, 2009

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?