No Good Deed Goes Unpunished in Africa

I have returned to Boghe in order to purchase roofing materials in the market tomorrow morning. Although I am still working through some problems with monetary reimbursement from the Peace Corps I am optimistic that I will at least be able to report an estimated time of completion by the end of the week. Earlier last week I aided my host brother in moving and packing dirt for a raised platform outside my room that will likely be covered in the upcoming months to provide a cooler place to sleep and pass the day. Overall, I am optimistic that my living situation will drastically improve ‘tout de suite” (a favorite saying of the Mauritanians literally meaning “at once” but that more often refers to a time period between immediately and a week from tomorrow, no matter the question) and hope to post pictures of the finished project on my next visit to Boghe.
Did not work at the health post this week because neither of the nurses were in the village! Although the OloOlogo health post is technically operated by two nurses, the male ‘head nurse’ and the female ‘midwife,’ with the help of two assistants, the head nurse has been present in the building for less than 40 days since my arrival on 1 September 2008. Even during his short presence in late 2008, he appeared to do minimal work in the office and often sent patients to the midwife for diagnosis and treatment while he merely assigned numbers in the logbook and collected the fees for treatment and medicines. I am still astonished, although unreasonably so, that he is able to maintain his position of power and title of influence without being present to be a beneficial participant in the health post, but This Is Africa! Mauritania is governed on a corrupt and extremely patriarchal system which often provides positions of power and authority to male family members or friends instead of appointments based on qualification or entitlement. Thus, even though the midwife performs more than her share of the work she remains subordinate to her male “counterpart” with limited participation in regards to overall governing of the workplace.
Since I did not go to the health post all week, instead I spent hours cooking spaghetti for my host family in OloOlogo one evening as a form of cultural exchange, only to be frustrated by most of the family refusing to taste my international cuisine. I had been warned that it was likely they would not enjoy untraditional flavors, but I was inspired to prove my cooking abilities after being constantly teased that I would make a bad African wife due to my inability to cook; however, I was annoyed when many refused to even taste and the few who did adventure to into the bowl ate a spoonful before refusing to eat more. I did find a few villagers who eagerly ate my cooking with some compliments but overall I learned a lot from the experience including the general lack of willingness to try something new or actively learn about other cultures.
Also, I presented my family with some photo prints of the village that I had taken since my arrival. After looking through the stack several times I had multiple people seek me out to demand copies of the “other” photos. It seems they were not satisfied with the selection that I gave them and wanted the other hundred printed and available for their review next time I returned from Boghe. I tried to explain that it was not quite that simple but the rural Mauritanians have little to no understanding of the post system and when I said it could take months they were extremely disappointed. Further proof that no good deed goes unpunished…
Was sitting outside reading and talking with my host father mid-week when I looked up and noticed a dirty haze moving rapidly in my direction. Quickly gathering my belongings and the mat I was sitting on, I rushed inside the house seconds before a massive sandstorm hit the village. Looking out the open front door, the storm reminded me of a hurricane as I watched the sky darken and the trees bend violently towards the ground, threatening to snap. Although the rhythmic chant of falling rain was missing, it was replaced by howling wind that carried sand through every hole in the walls and windows covering my room in dust and creating wave like patterns across all flat surfaces.

WAIST

Returned recently from an amazing trip to Dakar, Senegal for WAIST (West African International Softball Tournament) where Mauritania Peace Corps dominated the softball field and clinched the Championship Title in the Social Division! After a brief visit to Rosso, Mauritania for a mandatory safety and security meeting, all Mauritanian PCVs attending the tournament loaded two coach buses before sunrise Friday morning and drove 10 hours south to Dakar. The bus stopped a few times for bathroom breaks that included squatting behind prickly desert bushes or finding a large fissure in the arid desert terrain and once for lunch plus a visit to the local Senegalese bar but otherwise made good time which was celebrated with singing and shots.
Arrived at le Club Atlantique for tournament check-in a few minutes after 5 and joined hundreds of other West African PCVs to verify sleeping accommodations – either hotel or homestay – and for a quick dip in the beautiful but chilly club pool. Each year dozens of ex-patriots and local English speaking families open up their homes to Peace Corps Volunteers for the long weekend, cutting down on PC costs and allowing volunteers a taste of home cooked American-style meals, warm showers and comfortable beds. Although I had expected to be placed in a hotel since I was not signed up to play on one of the three Mauritania Peace Corps teams, I was pleasantly surprised to be placed in a homestay with 4 other Mauritania Volunteers, one of which attended Dickinson College with our host parent’s son.
The house was located in Ngor, an area in Northwest Dakar adjacent to the airport (biggest in West Africa) that is characterized by large houses and beautiful beach views, and was a welcome change to mud houses especially in it’s beautiful incorporation of African influence (My host parent’s were both English speaking Cameroon natives) with American luxury. The moment we entered the house, we were greeted by a delicious dinner of rice and couscous with a chicken and vegetable sauce that was enjoyed while sitting at a table with individual eating plates and cutlery in addition to a bottle of red wine. Dinner was followed by relaxing warm showers and eventually comfortable mattresses that lulled each of us to sleep within minutes of laying our heads on the [non trash filled] pillows.
The tournament was kicked off at 9am Saturday with a game by the Mauritanian Scallywags and followed at 1010am by the first game of the Mauritanian Pirates. Although Mauritania entered three teams into the tournament they were picked based on tryouts and ranked based on their likelihood to win the trophy. Each team featured t-shirts that identified the team as Pirates (Team A), Buccaneers (Team B), Scallywags (Team C) or Poopdeck Seamen (Cheerleaders) in addition to personal nicknames. Each team played 2 games on Saturday and 2 games on Sunday followed by an extra semi-final game on Sunday and a Championship game on Monday for the Pirates.
Other teams represented the other Peace Corps countries in West Africa – Gambia, Guinea, Mali, and Senegal – plus a variety of others which included local ex-patriots, Children of the American Embassy in Senegal, International School of Dakar High School varsity team, Employees from the American Embassy in Mauritania, Senegalese natives, etc. Several other teams sported themes including Peace Corporate, Braveheart, Peace Corpse, ‘80s Dance Party but Mauritania outshone the competition with enthusiasm, participation and most visits to the bar – maintaining our yearly reputation as crazy and heard-core.
In between games the players and fans alike enjoyed lounging poolside, eating delicious flavorful wraps and soft-serve ice cream in addition to enjoying numerous spontaneous dance parties. Each night I returned to my homestay family for freshly prepared Cameroonian and American inspired dinners plus a nice shower before heading to a WAIST sponsored event in downtown Dakar. After winning the championship game on a field overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, I attended an Awards Banquet where I won one of the door prizes– a gift basket full of bio bath products…To ensure I have the best smelling latrine in Mauritania, of course!
Before leaving paradise to return to Mauritania, I spent a few hours walking the artisanal market followed by pizza in the downtown area, visited a local beach to watch a little surfing and enjoy a few hours of beachside sunning, discovered an amazing place called N’Ice Cream that offered more than 50 flavors of ICE CREAM, treated myself to chips and salsa at Casino Supermarche (a large western style supermarket which offered a large selection of fresh fruits, cheese, chips and meats) and met lots of new people including Eddie, Teresa’s boyfriend from America, and Larissa, Mark’s girlfriend from America, who both flew into Dakar for several days of vacation throughout Senegal!
Additionally while in Senegal I briefly visited Richard Toll – a historic colonial town - to eat lunch at le hotel gite d’etape and enjoy a brief dip in the beautiful pool before traveling hours by taxi brusse, horse cart, bed of a truck and multiple pirogues to return to Mauritania. Because of Mauritania’s poor internal infrastructure several South Brakna volunteers returned home via Senegal because it is quicker than entering Mauritania through Rosso and then traveling 7+ hours north to Nouakchott and back down to Boghé, located on the Senegalese border.
Overall, the entire trip was characterized by overzealous third party mediators or bystanders who aided with language translation, price negotiation or even provided free services at various points throughout our expedition. Most notably, the kind Frenchman who offered to pay the four thousand cfa (Senegalese currency) difference in our hotel bill because we were placed in an air conditioned room instead of the cheaper non-air conditioned room as requested, the sixth passenger in our taxi brusse to Richard Toll who spoke English because he had spent the last 5 years living in Columbus, Ohio and arranged for a second taxi to pick us up from Senegal and drive us to the final river crossing into Mauritania for a fraction of the normal ‘American’ price, the guard at my homestay who helped Teresa arrange for an early morning taxi ride to the airport to pick up Eddie in Wolof (a black African language common in Senegal), and multiple bystanders who offered various forms of language assistance when a taxi driver got confused over Pulaar numbers and tried to argue that we agreed to pay 5 times the normal price.

MouseCapades Continue

Although rain fell in the African desert several days ago – an unusual occurrence outside of the rainy season – it seemed to bring with it a welcome change in temperature. Days recently have reached to the high 80 degrees while nights continue to drop to a low of 60 degrees, a good temperature for sleeping indoors but a reminder of the intense heat that is rapidly approaching. Even without the nightly heat, I am amazed that I still wake most nights in a panic, completely unaware of where I am located. Without the glow of streetlamps or a hall light filtering through a window or from under a door and without the blinking “12:00” from the clock on my DVD player that I never took the time to set, I am lost for several seconds as I frantically search for a clue to my location. As a cold sweat begins to form on my brow, I often reach out to discover the easily recognizable feel of mosquito net that hangs over my matellla and snaps me back to reality and my location on the floor of a mud house in a small Mauritanian village.
Spent last weekend in Boghé for a quick trip to participate in a viewing of the January 1 Rose Bowl Game between the Penn State Nittany Lions and USC Trojans. Ryan, a fellow region mate and Richmonder who attended Penn State and is a “disturbingly fervent” fan, had planned an afternoon of football and food in honor of his beloved alma mater. Projected onto a wall, the game was watched as we ate chili followed by Chicken Tacos and gin shots that were enjoyed at every implication of Joe Paterno’s age (82 or older than sliced bread) and scored point. Although everyone in the house, but Ryan, knew that Penn State loses to USC in the game, the afternoon was remarkably enjoyable as we tried to diminish Ryan’s anguish at the brutal loss and continued to eat delicious, homemade Mexican style cuisine.
Returned to OloOlogo after a pancake and hash brown lunch plus a refreshing cool bucket bath on a warm afternoon, after unpacking my bag and greeting the family I unfolded my sleeping bag and climbed into my mosquito net for a little R and R before dinner. Lying down in the darkness of my room, I was startled by a strange scratching noise that seemed to originate close to my head so I quickly grabbed the closest flashlight and took a look. But searching the edges of my matella, where my mosquito net is tucked to prevent unwelcome intruders – beetles, spiders, scorpions, frogs – from crawling on me while I sleep, I found no sign of a disturbance so I turned off the light and lay back down. Seconds later I sat straight up when I heard the noise repeated and quickly crawled out of my tent when I noticed my bed sheet move. Turning a flashlight on the previous location of my head, I suddenly saw a mouse frantically trying to escape from my mosquito netted bed. As the rodent attempted to climb the net, I began jumping around my room, screaming for my host family. They came at a run – host mom and sister, two host brothers, Hawa and the two 3-4 year old cousins – as I tried to explain that I was scared of the thing [never learned the word for mouse in Pulaar but now I am proud to report the word is dóomburu] moving in my tent. Finally releasing the rodent into my room, more than 30 minutes was spent searching behind every bucket, cup, storage trunk and under my suitcases as the 8 of us attempted to remove it from my small room. Eventually its hiding place was discovered and it was frightened outside where it proceeded into Hawa’s bedroom next door and eventually into the salon. More than an hour was spent chasing a stupid mouse around the house until we eventually lost sight of it and called off the search, although my family continued to reassure me that it had run outside.
I can only assume that the mouse must have found his way into my sleeping bag or the stuff sack for my sleeping back prior to my departure from the Boghé regional house because there is no other explanation for his discovery in my “secure” mosquito netted bed mat. So, I promptly put in a call to Teresa to let her know that I am doing my part, although unintentionally, to help rid the regional house of mice and pray that the one that returned to OloOlogo with me was the procreating mama!
After the mouse ordeal and all objects being moved to the center of my room as we systematically tried to discover the stowaway, I headed outside to escape the madness and spent a little time with my host family – not to mention calm my racing heart! I stepped into the darkness of night to the sound of an axe being used to cut something I initially thought was wood (not uncommon) but discovered moments later to be a cow head/skull. As I watched and held the flashlight, my host brothers quartered the skinned skull before chopping other unidentifiable cow pieces into dinner…yummy?!?!?! The remainder of the meat was cooked with potatoes overnight and served for breakfast with lettuce, bread chunks, onion and camel biscuits - a delicious African style salad.
When I presented a report on Giardia Lamblia three years ago in Microbiology I never imagined I would experience it first hand – yet another reminder of how my life has changed! A common amoebic infection that sends its victims running to the closest latrine and praying that they will make it in time, Giardia is caused by the ingestion of fecal contaminated food or water and is a common cause of life-threatening dehydration from diarrhea in many children in developing countries. No wonder the Pulaar language contains a verb which specifies “to defecate in one’s clothing,” bónnitaade!
So as I prepare to head to Senegal for a weekend of fun at WAIST (West African International Softball Tournament), I am trying to finish a round of drugs and attempting to pack to represent Mauritania PCVs as a “cheerleader.” Mauritania won this tournament two years ago but lost in the final game last year so we are on a mission to reclaim the title, even if we can no longer claim we are the only West African volunteers to survive a coup in the last year!