My First Taste of Islam

As of tomorrow, I left home to begin my big African adventure 1 month ago. During this time, a lot has happened and although I feel like I am beginning to settle into my new life and new continent not a day goes by that I do not think of and miss home – family, friends, food, activities and the general comforts that America brings. Although I am learning about my new environment and beginning to establish myself, it still feels extremely foreign and no matter how hard I try I am and will always be a spectacle to these people.
Quick weather update: I am guessing temperatures during the day have been fluctuating between 95-105 degrees F although it is usually a dry heat, the rainy season has begun and so the last few days have been extremely humid by Mauritania standards. Rainstorms and sandstorms occur every few days – morning language class was postponed on Monday due to a large storm. My hut is holding up well, although it did sprout a few leaks during a really heavy, prolonged rainstorm a week or so ago, but luckily no possessions were damaged in the event.
Language study continues and although I find that I am beginning to understand more I still have trouble communicating with my host family. The pantomiming is beginning to get old and I find that I am seeking out English/French speakers at every opportunity in order to actually feel that I can somewhat express ideas, needs or to just share a few words. Pulaar is a black African language spoken throughout much of Western, Eastern and Central Africa (although composed of many dialects) and is comprised of many hard letter sounds and guttural sounds that make it extremely hard to speak. Additionally, many of the English/French rules of grammar and pluralization are very different making it difficult to write (I often see very little rhyme or reason to the many rules associated with the language) and even harder to speak.
Luckily, language study has been interrupted frequently by the local wildlife. Monkeys, warthogs, dung beetles and camels have all wandered into our outdoor classroom recently allowing us to take a break from the massive amounts of information – not to mention the cows, goats and sheep that roam freely and often disrupt our learning. We have been actively watching an extremely pregnant goat (I am told she gave birth yesterday so I look forward to the opportunity to friend the new baby) and a sick long horned cow – it is my daily dose of animal planet, Live!
In other news, I got my first dose of Islam recently when I attended a fete in Dieuk, a Wolof speaking village 1 km East of Tekess. I had been told in addition to the other PCTs that a celebration would occur on Friday (11 July) but besides being religious in origin we were unable to comprehend what exactly the reason or who we were celebrating. On Friday, I got up with the animals like normal and prepared for the day paying a little extra care since I had been told through charades that it was important to wear nice clothing and makeup but when I went out to join my family I notice that they seemed no different and were doing activities just like any other day. So I just waited and watched knowing that something was bound to occur soon since for days leading up to the celebration, donkey carts and cars full of people and possessions had been traveling into the city. Around noon my language facilitator stopped by and asked if I wanted to walk with him and another PCT to Dieuk. I agreed and we set off on a walk across sand dunes and flatlands, heading towards the only building visible above the tree line, a mosque.
Once in the city we walked the main road where hundreds of people were lined up on both sides of the main road eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone. Family groups were dressed in similar, bright colored fabrics which made it look like a sea of color groups. Everyone stopped and stared at the Toubabs as we walked through the crowd and eventually we were given front row seats to watch the ongoing festivities. Within an hour of our arrival, a parade of cars and buses (approximately 15) began driving through the city and the crowd began cheering and waving excitedly. Based on the snippets of conversation that I was able to understand the parade of people included persons who had driven from Senegal and at least one famous person (either religious or governmental in profession). After their arrival, the congregated people began to scatter as the new arrivals and their baggage were taken to houses and offered the traditional afternoon tea. I followed two family members to a concrete house where I spent the afternoon enjoying COLD drinks (milk with sugar, Coca-Cola, and Fanta), tea and lots of food (lunch was the traditional Rice and Fish but the Wolof version was made with tomato paste in the rice which gave it a nice, slightly different flavor). Throughout the afternoon I got to witness the slaughter of a goat for dinner as well as generally observe life in a larger village while enjoying a delectable breeze under the hyma (huge outdoor tents). Around dusk we returned home to Tekess and I was instructed to bathe, wash my hair and dress – the kids keep miming that the night would include music and dancing so I expected to return to Dieuk soon.
I sat for hours, dressed and ready to go before I was told by my host father to follow my mother into the main hut. I did so and was given a beautiful traditional outfit – a Bermuda blue fabric wrap skirt and a purple top with bermuda blue and white pattern. I was then taken back to Dieuk by an aunt for dinner. My family had said they would be there soon but hours passed, the sun set, dinner was eaten and my family had still not been sighted. Around 2330 I finally caught a glimpse of my family, including several members who were wearing outfits that matched the one I had been given! They ate dinner while I continued to enjoy cold sodas and after they grabbed my hand and motioned for me to follow.
We walked through the heart of the city into the main square where a well lit tent had been erected, in addition to an extensive sound system and projector, and was decorated with pictures of obviously famous religious figures. The next 3.5 hours were filled with a man chanting religious “songs” while children dozed among the legs of their mothers and siblings. However, this was no boring event, since people were standing up and snapping to the music and praising loudly while others walked around asking for monetary donations by shaking coins in a bag. Please imagine a deep southern Baptist tent revival in a language that you do not remotely comprehend and in a place where you stand out like a sore thumb. The videographers found us with the cameras throughout the entire event and we were often projected onto the large video screen in the middle of the event. By hour 3 I was truly beginning to feel like I could not take anymore and with no end in sight I mentioned to my host mother that I really needed to use “la douche”…well at that moment I was whisked out of the tent like a potty training 2 year old. In any other country this would be uneventful but because I was one of two toubabs and we were both leaving, everyone in the entire tent stopped what they were doing and stopped to stare. The chanting stopped, the speeches stopped and as we walked the 10 yards to the tent everyone that we passed held out their hands for us to shake. Now many people reading this blog are likely aware of my fear of being in front of large crowds – let me just say I am slowly getting over this fear although I am sure I still blushed bright red!
For the other PCT, her family used the bathroom break as an excuse to take her home…me, I was forced to return to the tent revival 20 minutes later because the baby had been left asleep under the tent. Creating a major disturbance for the second time, I took my seat and tried desperately not to make any more of a scene than necessary. After another hour of holding my eyes open and trying desperately to look somewhat excited to be present at the event, my family finally decided to leave the event prematurely. The second exit was just as disruptive as the first and the 30 minute walk home was quite tiring. Overall, my first Islamic experience was quite eye-opening.
We return to Rosso this weekend for permanent site placement announcements so I will try to write more in a few days. Inshallah.

Please let me know if you would like me to try and cover any particular topics in more details…