Montezuma's Revenge Is For Wimps

One of my fellw trainees commented that one of the hardest parts of
training is adjusting to the fact that nothing, absolutely nothing, is
done in a similar way to how it is done in the states.

Sleeping? No, beds are a distant memory, as are sheets and soft
pillows (I brought a pillow from home, but I'm saving it in my stored
luggage as a present for getting through staage.

Eating? Nope, we use our hands. In fact, our first meal back at the
lycee when we all came in for 2 days of training was actually served
with forks. None of us was sure what to do with them, I used my
hands.

Recreation? My younger brothers amuse themselves by taunting the cow
and rolling tires. Today the youngest one came home with a shaved
head and part of me wonders if he did it just because the cow was
missing and there was nothing else to do. Then he tried to ride a
donkey, which provided entertainment for the whole family.

Using the bathroom? Hell no! I dream of porcelin bowls, especially
last tuesday night when I was sick and didn't sleep. Of course, since
I was at the lycee I was able to go into teh air conditioned infirmiry
and drink cold Gatorade. NOTE To anyone who loves me, send packets of
powdered Gatorade. It tasted like heaven and prevents dehydration,
bonus. Orange was really good.

I was well enough to leave in the afternoon, although I was loathe to
leave my cot, sleeping above ground is so luxurious, but there were
people far worse off than me. Poor Leah had to go to Nouokchott to
get better, and a few people were in and out all week. You need a
strong stomach and stronger intestinal tract to make it in West
Africa.

On a more positive note, during our luxurious stay at the lycee, the
current volunteers challenged our trainee group to a game of softball.
This is the same group that won WAIST, the West African Invitational
Softball Tournement, last February, so we thought it would be tough.

We slaughtered them.

Well, actually, I should say THEY slaughtered them, they being the
trainees that played while I cheered and heckled.

The important point is that I contributed to the victory.

Despite the cocky volunteers cheating at every turn. If that is what
2 years in the desert does to you than we should all be afraid, very
afraid.

Before I forget I should add that at center the mail came, and the
cell phone I purchased. My number is 695-8527, and from the states
you would dial 011-222 before that. So if you really love me and want
to call, go ahead ,but I don't really expect anyone to call except my
parents. But I will add that it is cheaper for you to call me than
the other way around.

And send mail, I had a pathetic showing, and resorted to delivering
other people's mail because it made me feel loved (we live for mail,
telling Mike T. that he had a big stack of letters from his girlfriend
earned me a hug, scandalous in the RIM, and made me feel like Santa
Clause.)

My address, again; Amy Conley PCT, Corps de la Paix BP 222,
Nouakchott, Mauritania, West Africa.

That's it, complete. Zip code systems are for nancy westerners.

If you send goodies, god bless you and send them in padded envelopes,
since due to a tax on boxes ,envelopes go through like letters, and
boxes sit in the post offive in Nouakchott for months until someone
from the bureau goes and pays for them and picks them up.

Gotta love them government institutions.

Anyway, we are all back at homestay now, and in 2 weeks we return to
the lycee, find out our sites, and go visit for a week. Inshallah.

And, for the record, it's really hot.
amy