Welcome to the Trarza

So I have been at site for almost two weeks.

 

Well, kind of.  A more accurate way of saying that would be I have been in the region for a week and a half, and of that I have spent 2 days in the village.  The rest of the time I have been in Rosso, my regional capital, a mere hour and a half's leisurely drive sitting in the back of a van with 21 strangers perched on a sack of rice and trying not to prevent my head from smacking against the metal sides of the van too much.

 

The dusty Rosso market has never looked as good as when I climbed out of that blue death trap.

 

Did I mention I get to ride back in it this afternoon?

 

This is my life.

 

I wasn't actually being delinquint, though.  All the Environmental Education, Health ,and Small Enterprise development volunteers were brought into Rosso for a workshop funded through the EPA to help create improved cookstoves in Mauritania.  The stove project is the baby of Julie and Amy, two volunteers who are extending their service a little longer.  Amy was also the training coordinator for the EE stagierres this year.  They were both in this region, but now live and work in Nouakchott.  Since Julia leaves in December and Amy in March or April, and the EPA grant ends April 2007, the whole shebang is getting handed off to us newbies.

 

Talk about being thrown into the river to see if you can swim.

 

The workshop was interesting, or so I hear, it was all in French.  We were basically there to get a feel for it, not really to participate.

 

Although Dan and I were called upon by Robyn, the "EPA lady" to help her present by doing a skit.  We pretty much just sat there and nodded while she talked.  It was so good we were called upon by John, the "NGO guy" to perform the sequel.

 

Do they give out Tony's in Mauritania?  I'll have to find out.

 

Anyway, other than listening to a lot of French I did manage, I think, inshallah, to find myself a house in the village.  The owners don't live there, the previous tenent died, and the mean man who holds the keys gets delight out of telling me it will not be rented.  However, suspecting that this man was, in fact, a dirty, dirty liar, my counterpart Cheikh, in  whose house I am renting a room right now, gave me the phone number of the owner.  during the conference I had Kane, the Agroforestry training coordinator who speaks 7 languages, call the mysterious owner.  They said I could have the house.

 

I can't wait to go back and smile at the mean man at the boutique who holds the keys.

 

Pray that Kane is negotiating me reasonable rent as we speak, and there are minimal hiccups.  I really need to move.

 

Why, you ask?

 

Because it is wild kingdom in my room right now.  The family does not sleep outside, there is no hanger, and their animals run loose so I have to sleep in my room.  Drenched in sweat.  I am safe from the bigger animals, but every night I get visited by a dozen frogs and a cat.

 

The frogs I don't mind so much, I'm just afraid I'll step on one.

 

I'm allergic to cats, and when I get up the thing hisses and runs into the corner.  Which makes me irrationally angry because, hey; you came into MY room, the least you could do is be nice to me.  But oh no, I then chase it from behind one bag to the water filter till finally it bolts out the door.

 

Only to come pawing around an hour later.

 

Whomever said cats are intelligent obviously wasn't talking about severely malnourished ones.

 

And that's all the news from the Trarza.  A side effect of being away from  the village is being away from my shortwave and the BBC news.  I had no idea  that Houston was evacuated until today.  I hope all my Rice peeps and the Lawley/Huerta clan are all doing well. If you need pointers on living without running water let me know.

 

On a side note, we were a little amused and bemused by the EPA lady.  she had been a Peace Corps volunteer in Swaziland 10 years ago, but to meet her you would never think she had lived in the third world.  She came over to the house for dinner the other night and almost immediately asked where the bathroom was, followed by, "You have running water, right?".  I showed her the door and said yes, we did have running water ,but it was still a turkish toilet.  I guess she didn't hear me.  Poor woman must have been expecting a porcelin bowl.  She walked into the bathroom, and two seconds later walked right back out.  Now, compared to the latrines in the village, the tiled floor in the bathroom in Rosso is pure luxery, but I guess she didn't think so.  We've come a long way baby.

 

Are there toilets in Swaziland?

 

love

amy

 

Five hours of pain well worth it...

Profile Image Upload

Il Hamdullilah!

Well, we did it.

 

This morning as the sweltering heat and humidity turned our best and newest clothes into colorful sweat rags, 41 Peace Corps Trainees stood under a tent and took the same oath that all soldiers, sailors, and other government employees in the foreign service take; vowing to defend the consititution against all enemies both foreign and domestic etc.

 

After that we were no longer PCTs, we were now bona fide PCVs: Peace Corps Volunteers.

 

That's right, no more of this kids table shit, we were ready to go.

 

In a few days we all leave for our respective regions and our future sites.

 

Until then, we get to party.

 

These last few weeks have been a little different.  My language facilitator Brahim, my foster father as it were, seemed to feel that he had finished work a week ago, so we didn't have real language class that week, we just hung out and drank tea.

 

He was right too, I guess, everyone in out language group scored Intermediate High on our final language test: Intermediate Mid is all that is required to become a PCV, and ours was the only class where everyone got that high of a score.  Brahim says that is because he is the best.  I think we might have had something to do with it too.

 

My host family sent me off in fine style, they gave me a big present in the form of henna, fancy and elaborate, on my hands and feet.  It took 5 hours; but they looked fantastic.  I have pictures; which I hope to post soon.

 

I want to thank everyone for the lovely, lovely packages.  The other volunteers are all very impressed with my family.  Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa, the fruit snacks and Wurther's were a wonderful touch; thanks Papa John and Aunt Margaret Mary, thank you Aunt Liz and Uncle Steve; thanks Vanek Clan and cousin Jimmy for your packages as well; I feel so blessed.  And so do my fellow trainees, who faithfully consumed an entire package of Twizzlers in one hour, it was great.

 

I still love mail.  My new address will be:

Amy Conley PCV

Corps de la Paix

BP 40

Rosso, Mauritania

West Africa

 

I would love pictures; they are light and easy to mail and since all the family photos were packed when I left (and because my family develops film once a decade) I didn't have many recent photos to bring with me.  Other little things are spice mixes like Mrs. Dash, garlic salt; pico de gallo, taco seasoning; sauces etc.  You can't get them here.

 

Other Amy wish list items:

a pair of drawstring pajama-type pants, like at Old Navy.  To show the tailors.  I had him try and make me a pair from a sketch, they looked like MC Hammer pants.  Since I have to climb a water tower to get cell phone reception, I don't want to do it in a skirt.

Likewise a pair of jeans, I am probably a size 8 or 6, because you can get away with wearing them in the regional capital; and it gets really muddy and skirts are a pain in the mud.

Dangling chandelier earings.  I have not gone crazy, it is just that when all the girls were getting dressed for the ceremony today they were putting on make up and jewelry and I realized I had none.  I am currently wearing a pair of glintzy gold chanderlier earring that I would never be able to wear in the states, but which look good here.  They make you feel like a girl again; which is not always easy when you smell like a donkey.

 

I don't mean to sound greedy, letters by themselves are fantastic, but you always ask what I need, so there you have it.

 

Thanks for the letters; the emails; and the gatorade.

love

amy

 

 

So close

One more week of staage.  This time next week I will be free, free, free of my host family.  Not that they aren't very nice, but after a few months, certain things start to wear away at your soul.

Things like:

The family constantly complaining after every rainstorm that I don't close my windows, when, in fact, I do.  The greater problem lies in the fact that the windows don't latch, making closing them in a strong wind somewhat pointless.  Not that the windows being open harms anything, rain doesn't come in.  If they want to know where those puddles are coming from they should look to the large holes in the roof where the water pours in, that might be our culprit.

or

Watching the family prepare tea and wash dishes and hands with the self same pot that they fill and take with them behind the shed or against the wall to wash themselves with when they do their business.  I am the only one who uses the hole in the shed in the corner of the compound.

or

Avoiding my older host brother, who seems to think it is my job to teach him English.

or

Eating plain maceroni for dinner night after night.

or

Eating cous cous and oil night after night.

or

half a million other small oddities that will almost surely be replaced by fresh annoyances in my new town, but at least there I will have the possibility of escape.

I can't escape here.  The last time I ate dinner with a different family, my host mother threatened to beat me.

I think she was kidding, but I'm glad I only have a week left anyway.

We're So Damn Photogenic

The Trarza Gang.

We take our work very seriously.