May all your Christmases...

The other day, my brother Alassane held up an eggplant and asked me what it was called in English. (Everyone in the family enjoys learning as much vocab as possible.) I told him, and he repeated the new word. Then the 15-year-old sister Kadia informed me that in Pulaar, it's called aubergine. "Actually," I told her, "aubergine is French. In Pulaar it's batayse." Everyone roared appreciatively. "You're right! Kadia doesn't know Pulaar, but you do! Raky is a true African!"


I've mentioned that I still don't know how the 17 people in my family are all related. There are many reasons for this. First of all, it's considered rude to ask people directly how many children they have. It is not strange for children to call their parents by their first names, or, alternatively, to call relatives who are not their biological parents "Mother" and "Father." Husbands and wives don't typically wear rings, nor do they publicly show any affection. Women always keep their family surname. And oftentimes in villages like mine, the husband lives and works off in a bigger city and only comes to visit on major holidays -- so a woman may be married and you wouldn't even know it, although she will live with the husband's family. And similarly, children from very small villages without a school often go to live with relatives where there is one. Thus, you can see where my difficulty arises... I have learned some helpful hints, though, such as the fact that many children are given their father's first name as their middle name. This is how I discovered that Fatimata Samba is the daughter of Samba. But then there is the practice of a mother and father giving their child two totally different names. That same child is called Fatimata by her father (and everyone else), but her mother calls her Mariam. Confused yet??

In any case, I got to meet a few new family members to add to the mess during the Tabaski celebration the week of December 8th. It was nice to be off from school for a few days and to eat some good food. Banafe is my favorite dish -- a mutton stew with big chunks of potato. I also had a very traditional outfit made, which really impressed my family. They gushed, "When you wear that in America, everyone will say you are so beautiful!" I don't know, you be the judge:


I gave my Trimester 1 final exams this week, and now my vacation has officially begun! I am headed tomorrow to our national capital, Nouakchott, to spend Christmas at the country director's house with all of Peace Corps Mauritania. Then my friends and I will travel back down to PK7 to visit our host families from training this summer. After that we will ring in the new year with a few days in Saint-Louis, Senegal -- the land where alcohol is not illegal! ;) And finally, all the first-year PCVs will be back in Nouakchott for our five-day Early Term Reconnect conference. I won't be back in my village until January 10th. I am much looking forward to these amazing couple of weeks spent with friends (and electricity and running water and showers and real beds)!

Are you familiar with this song "Do They Know It's Christmas Time At All?" It was a collaboration of musicians for Band Aid, raising funds to eradicate poverty worldwide. U2's Bono was the driving force behind it, and while I respect him and appreciate his efforts, I find this song so absurd. "And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas..." No, there won't, but there won't be any in Austin, TX, either. Is it less of a Christmas? "Do they know it's Christmas time at all?" No, Bono, I'm here to tell you they don't -- but did you know it was Tabaski?

True, there won't be snow, but there just might be rain -- which is nearly as unexpected! The wet season here runs from July to October, and it is very rare for any rain to fall outside that time. But a few nights ago, I was awoken in the night by a distinct pitter-patter on my roof (and by the grumpy goats outside my wall, unhappily stirred from their slumber). And my first thought was -- it's not possible! It's a Christmas miracle!

And so, may your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases... be wet.

Where the love-light gleams

OK, first of all, I take back what I said about the cold season. Even with a hoodie, I was shivering waiting for a car to Boghé yesterday! And I laughed because I'm sure it couldn't have been much below 68 degrees. What would I do in Boston these days, I wonder? But we PCVs all keep complaining, "I was freezing last night!" Guess we're fully "integrated" and are already wusses about our tolerance of cold.

Thanksgiving was a great time spent with friends here. There aren't exactly any turkeys in Mauritania, but we did find a duck! (Bought live, of course, but I did not take part in the subsequent slaughtering.) We had quite the spread, including some helpful goodies sent from America. Our menu comprised: duck, chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy, stuffing (Stove Top & homemade), cranberry sauce, cornbread, squash, beef & veggie kebabs, ranch dip, okra casserole, macaroni salad, "pumpkin" pie (actually a squash), carrot cake, and banana cream pie. Not bad for Africa!


Teresa and I were really excited to have our own little "Black Friday" shopping, as we browsed the market for fabric to make new outfits. With all the ceaseless bargaining and crowds of people, it felt almost as stressful as in the U.S.!


My mom sent me a little cardboard "Christmas tree-in-a-box," so I happily set that up in my room this week. I even indulged a bit and used some of my precious laptop battery power to listen to holiday tunes. It seemed appropriate to start with "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas." I find it so hard to really comprehend that it's the Christmas season in America. Time kind of stands still here. The next song on my playlist was "There Is No Christmas Like a Home Christmas" -- and I couldn't help it, I got a little misty-eyed. But then Bing Crosby reassured me that "Christmas Eve will find me / where the love-light gleams / I'll be home for Christmas / if only in my dreams..."


And I have good times to look forward to here. This Monday is Tabaski, the biggest Muslim holiday of the year! Everyone gets a fancy new outfit made, and relatives travel long distances to be together. My family has been eating rather cheap dinners the last few nights, and I know it's because they're saving up for the big FEAST next week. I am told there will be endless portions of goat (the traditional celebration meal). And of course, we're off from school for a few days!

So, I'm having hybrid holidays. The best of both worlds, perhaps?

Three cups of tea

"Cold" season has arrived to Mauritania, although don't be misled by this misnomer; the unforgiving sun still beats down at 100 degrees just about every day. At night it does cool off a bit more than in the summer, and the breeze blows as my family wrap themselves in sheets and say, "It's so cold! Tonight, Africa is like America!" It is probably 80 degrees. So far the biggest change is that I actually have the option now of sleeping indoors -- before, it was too stifling even to consider.

I love my adopted family in Dar el Barka. Smiles and laughter abound at their busy little compound, with 17 people who live there. Three months in the village and I still haven't figured out how they're all related! There are a clear Baaba "Father" and Yaay "Mother" (everyone calls them that, regardless of whether you're actually a niece or grandson or in-law). Beyond that, I just think of everyone as my sister or brother. Their names and approximate ages:

- Hamet Abdoul, 63/M
- Kadia Moussa, 54/F
- Fati Sidi, 30/F
- Samba, 25/M
- Molel, 20/F
- Aïcha, 19/F
- Mariam, 17/F
- Kadia, 15/F
- Jeynaba, 14/F
- Alassane, 13/M
- Goggo, 11/F
- Aïssata, 8/F
- Abdoul, 8/M
- Fatimata, 3/F
- Amadou, 2/M
- Samba, 7 mos./M
- Raky, 6 mos./F

Teaching is keeping me busy, as I struggle to create a curriculum relevant to students' lives here. The other day I was planning a vocab lesson on pastimes and hobbies, and I had a lot of trouble choosing which terms to include. Obviously, there was no "go to the movies," "surf the internet," "go to the mall," or "play video games." But even many of the things I myself do for fun here, without electricity, are far outside the realities of these kids: read books (for fun?), write in my journal, write letters, listen to the news, cook (for fun?!).

One activity I had no doubt about including was "to drink tea." It is a HUGE part of Mauritanian life. Always in three rounds, the whole process takes anywhere from 30 minutes to a few hours. The amazing thing to me about people here is that they can just... sit... endlessly! They lie on the matela foam pads and contentedly let the minutes pass, periodically murmuring thanks to God. Me, I grow too restless and consequently always bring something to busy myself with -- a book or a crossword. You can take the girl out of America...

It was fitting, then, that a book I just finished during such endless tea sessions was Three Cups of Tea (Mortenson/Relin). It tells the heroic true story of a mountaineer-turned-humanitarian who has, against great odds, devoted his life to building schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. (I teared up often while reading it, but I always tried to wipe my eyes quickly because I couldn't imagine trying to explain to my family, in Pulaar, why looking at a book would ever cause one to cry!) Greg Mortenson's endeavors are awesomely inspiring.

It is the sad truth that Muslims today are so terribly misunderstood by much of the West. The extremely-misguided extremists poison the name of the faithful masses. At its heart, Islam is a beautiful way of life that promotes peace toward ALL people, love toward family, kindness toward strangers. Mauritanians -- even the poorest among them -- have shown me this so evidently in their ceaseless hospitality. It breaks my heart to know that some Americans would hate these people, my family here, just for bearing the title "Muslim." My praises to Mortenson for transcending petty cultural misunderstandings to accomplish the great task of providing education to those who have been denied it. For surely it is by EDUCATING ourselves -- with knowledge about the world and about each other -- that all doors are opened!

And that is why every night, my sister Goggo kneels in the dirt, with a flashlight in one hand and a pen in the other, as she diligently completes her homework.

And that is why I am here. To teach, but more to learn.

American in Africa listens to Brits discuss African-American

Well, I ended up getting a ride into Boghé today on the bed of a UNHCR truck (the United Nations refugee agency). It was straight out of Hotel Rwanda. Unbelievable.


I came in midweek because my associate director is visiting my site on Saturday. It's nice to have some flexibility with my travels since I don't teach on Tuesday or Wednesday, but truthfully I am pretty busy these days. I try to hang with my family as much as I can, to keep improving my Pulaar. But I spend a fair amount of time planning my lessons, sitting on the floor in my room with a pen and paper. I basically have to create all my own material from scratch, for four different levels. I'm really enjoying it, though. Last Monday we did Describing People, and I made my students discuss the U.S. presidential candidates: "John McCain is very old. Barack Obama is beautiful." Their words, not mine! ;)

Everyone on this continent is fired up like CRAZY after this election. They can't believe that a "noir-américain" will really be President of the United States! They proudly claim Obama as a true son of Africa. My family here, mostly illiterate in this dusty little village without electricity, just constantly repeat his name (which they can actually pronounce, unlike his predecessors' "Zorz Boose" and "Bickington") and ask me all about him. Then they quiz each other and recite what they know: "He's black, AND American. His father is African. His father is Muslim, but Barack is Christian. He has two children, girls. If January dies [Pulaar phrasing for "at the end of January"], he will be President."

My buddy Rick Diamond in Austin, TX, posted an excellent "44 Things about the 44th President" on his blog. I respect Rick so much and love all that he had to say. "Obama's political and philosophical values are, for me, the best of what Christianity says it is about but mostly isn't about." I can only echo his sentiments.

On the night of the 4th, I set up my mosquito net on my roof for the best possible shortwave and cell phone reception. I listened to BBC coverage that started at 10pm (5pm EST), but it goes off the air here at 11. Then NOTHING broadcasts to West Africa in English, French, or Spanish between the hours of 11pm-3am. How cruel! I tried to get some sleep, but it was impossible. It felt like Christmas Eve.

As the results came in, I started to just cry. And cry, and cry. I couldn't believe it -- what an amazing moment in history! It was 5am as Obama began his speech. I found it beautiful. "To those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world... a new dawn of American leadership is at hand." I smiled.

He was still speaking as over the bullhorns here came the morning prayer call. A new dawn.

Halloween, election, video!

This is just a mini-update. I came into Boghé again this weekend for a little Halloween celebration with the other Americans. We had a blast! I decided to take advantage of my short hair and pulled off a pretty sweet McCain, with Teresa as Ms. Palin:


Not bad, right? Especially considering the few means at our disposal! Teresa struck gold finding that red cardigan at a "dead toubab store" (Salvation Army rejects) here in Boghé. Ryan's family sent him a DVD of the presidential debates, so we watched some of that yesterday. Very exciting stuff. We broke into cheers when Obama mentioned doubling the Peace Corps -- woot woot! We all voted absentee a few weeks ago, and our ballots were specially delivered to Washington via the diplomatic pouch. Many Mauritanians are really excited about the election, too, and the prospect of a "noir-américain" taking office. They listen to updates on shortwave radio. I will be tuning in with bated breath come Tuesday night!

Note: Mauritania does not observe Daylight Saving Time, so as of today, I am 5 hours ahead of the East Coast.

I hope I wasn't misleading in my last post. I am NOT unhappy with my assignment in Mauritania. Yes, it is without a doubt one of the toughest countries that Peace Corps serves, with a wide range of challenges -- but that just makes us RIM PCVs that much more hardcore! ;) Really, I am loving getting to know the people in my village and to see what their lives are truly like. I laugh often. I see shooting stars every. single. night. I love teaching, and my students are so enthusiastic they literally fall out of their chairs to volunteer. I am happy.

Something fun to leave you with... my friend Dave is awesome and edited together a few videos I had sent him. (Believe it or not, the internet is so incredibly slow and spotty here that it was actually more efficient for me to burn the videos to CD and mail them to America, to be uploaded there.) Some footage is from my training site at PK7, and the rest is more recent from Dar El Barka. Hope you enjoy!