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