Survivor: Mauritania

I was recently talking to Teresa about the fact that Peace Corps Volunteers are supposedly ineligible to become contestants on the reality television series Survivor. After watching two episodes sent to us “for your consideration” by the Emmy Nominating Committee we realized why – 39 days on an isolated beach seems more like a short vacation than a challenge at this point. With the backing of CBS who will surely step-in to ensure survival if necessary (i.e. provide water to prevent dehydration and meds in case of illness) and without the presence of locals who require cultural sensitivity - ankle length skirts and covered shoulders day in and day out- plus the opportunity to swim in the ocean without the threat of Schistosimiasis seems ideal. Can’t boil water because you haven’t won fire yet, Oh, well what is the worst that can happen? Giardia? Been there, done that and I survived months without the first round of medication. Rodents that arrive at night to nibble foods that are not stored in airtight containers remind me of daily life at the regional house, not to mention the current infestation of ants throughout my new room that are amazing in their ability to break into a number of storage containers including Ziploc bags, sealed peanut butter jars and locked metal trunks. Complaints about eating rice and fish daily after a week, don’t forget that is they typical diet of several million people in the developing world. Each day I "outwit, outplay, outlast" and yet at the end of it all, I have the hopes of “winning” only 6 thousand dollars without the title of sole survivor or a picture with Jeff Probst!
As we started brainstorming ideas for her blog (http://teresa08.blogspot.com), it got me thinking about the ways in which my current life resembles several reality television series. Although television cameras are not waiting to capture my every blunder and frustration, the general premise remains…
“So now America, with an open heart and an empty stomach, I say unto you in the words of my uncle: Allez Cuisine” states the host of Iron Chef America and nothing could be truer whenever I arrive in Boghe. Since the marketplace in Boghe is constantly changing as the availability of fruits, vegetables, eggs and a variety of other food items are dependent on a number of non-reliable factors, many days feels like an episode of Iron Chef or Top Chef with quickfire challenges based on a “theme” ingredient or a regional taste. As of recent tomatoes have been bountiful and cheap but lettuce and cucumbers are gone for the season and bell peppers are spotty so although we often try to plan meals 24 hours in advance we often have to be prepared to create a delicious meal on the fly. Combined with a limited budget (I try to spend 200 ouguiya – approximately 1 US dollar – on each meal) and the recent unpredictable availability of water, the regional chefs compete in kitchen stadium under a number of unusual circumstances to create inventive culinary masterpieces that hopefully satisfy the constant desire for flavors seldom found in rice and fish.
This is the true story…of thirteen strangers…picked to live in a region…work together and have their lives blogged…to find out what happens…when people stop being polite…and start getting real. Life in South Brakna often resembles Real World: Mauritania complete with people from all walks of life converging on the developing world in hopes of making a small difference. We have English teachers, Agroforestry volunteers, Health Education volunteers, Small Enterprise Development/Information, Communication and Technology volunteers, Environmental Education volunteers, and Girls Empowerment and Development volunteers all working within several adjacent communities but using the regional house as a central meeting place and youth hostel. Thus the regional house becomes a crossroads where ideas and stories are passed, laughter and tears are shared, frustrations are voiced and true personalities emerge since two rooms can house up to 40 volunteers. Every visit is unique: full of surprises and stories only possible West Africa.
Each month it seems 25 or more men compete to win the heart of the local female toubab (white foreigner) with the hopes of acquiring the coveted green card to America in a traditional ceremony. Neighbors, musicians, moors, boutique owners, bankers, shepherds, married men, taxi drivers and a number of other guys try to attract my attention whether they know me to be an eligible bachelorette or a supposedly married woman. Each seems to be creepier than the next as they demand my hand in marriage within minutes of meeting me and more often than not in a language I do not completely understand. After months of deflecting proposals, I continue to be astonished by the number of men who make inappropriate offers although I wear a wedding band on my left hand and often claim to be betrothed, not to mention the men who truly seem to believe I would be willing to accept a position as a second or third wife.
Big Brother: Season 8 is in full swing around the world, including an unofficial season in Mauritania. Nowhere is safe from unwanted eyes (although I like to pretend they don’t know I am now jump roping and exercising inappropriately in my new room) and my family seems to be very aware of most everything that goes on throughout the village which suggests the web of spies is wide and gossipy. Weekly I meet strangers who enjoy telling me places I was spotted or activities I was witnessed performing, “I saw you walking by the big tree in Boghe, did you see me,” they will ask or “Did you finish washing your laundry in the river yesterday morning?” But the talk also moves beyond my immediate location and seems to travel throughout the country [and sometimes jumps continents] with other volunteers hearing stories about people several kilometers away (“So-and-so rode to Nouakchott with the Bababe volunteer, why didn’t you go to Nouakchott?”). Overall, no action or task goes unnoticed by the ever watching Mauritanian eyes.
Since we arrived last June, an informal competition arose during stage to see who can be the “biggest loser”. Disgusting food, repetitive meals, unclean water and a number of common gastrointestinal illnesses all increased one’s ability to shed a number of pounds within a matter of weeks. Although I have continued to gain weight since my arrival, a number of my peers lost significant poundage – 50, 70 or even 90 pounds or more – and so the competition continues to see who can be the biggest loser.
Travel within West Africa scarily resembles the amazing race as it often includes a variety of transportation: planes, trains, taxis, buses, boats, animal carts or even the occasional camel in a race-like journey to the Carrefour or “pit stops” at the end of each leg. Traveling within each country seems to offer new challenges associated with distinct laws and cultural norms plus a variety of languages and frequently without the accompaniment of a friend for support and/or assistance or the enticement of a 1 million dollar prize. Additionally, most trips within Mauritania and Senegal include a lot of frustrations due to unpredictable bargaining, unforeseen car problems, uncomfortable traveling conditions and unlimited waiting.