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!