A Day in the Life
What do I do everyday? That is difficult to answer, because as the time has rolled on, my activities have changed. I anticipate them changing even more as I get settled. But at the moment my days go something like this.
I get out of bed around 6:30 - 7, lug my bedding off of the roof and down to the veranda. The nights pass as they often do here in Mauritania, but all of that was imparted in an earlier installment. After the 2 night experiment sleeping or rather not sleeping in the courtyard, back up to the roof went I. I’m not only safer from the bugs but the neighbors have proven harmless. An added benefit to sleeping aloft is that the process takes 3 trips up and down the stairs, which are 3 flights. I do that 2x a day, morning and night, that's 6 flights of stairs a day. I am desperate to find exercise in this climate.
Next I brush my teeth in the yard. I may keep this up when I get back stateside. I rather like swishing and spitting in the Garden.
I re-wet the old skirt I use as my cooling system for my water filter, as it has dried out over night. This cooling system uses the evaporation from the old skirt that I have wrapped around the metal filter which I attempt to keep damp. The filter sits in a big plate. Its lip is sufficiently high to hold water, but not so high as to impede with the spigot. I work at keeping the skirt damp and the plate filled with water, which in turn cools the contents. The burlap on the bidons, which are plastic jugs that once contained vegetable oil or vinegar, works the same way. Keep them wet in a breezy, shady place and the contents remain cool by some miracle of evaporation from the wet fabric. You can also see goatskins hung up like a little hammock that work in a similar fashion. My guess is as the water seeps thru causing the skin to stay damp which creates evaporation and the contents cool. I, personally, don’t care to have the skin of anything 4 legged, or formerly four legged, strung up in my yard. I find them unsettling whenever I happen to see one. See my flikr photos of the drink station for a glimpse of all but the pelt.
If I have prepared the night before, I have breakfast at home using my stash of Weetabix, a piece of fruit and milk that I have left cooling in a bowl of water wrapped in a bandana overnight, again, using evaporation for cooling. How have I never known about this process before? Refrigeration has apparently kept me ignorant of the wonders of swamp coolers. Otherwise, I wait till my morning routine is complete, run by Cookie Door boutique and pick up a yogurt drink, banana and/or a hard boiled egg. Breakfast in this country traditionally is half a baguette and a cup of Nescafe, therefore, eggs and bananas can be difficult to find before the afternoon. As it is rude to eat in public in the RIM, I go to our bureau or the GMC to eat this repast. Mauritania is a communal culture and if you don’t want to share your meal with all who pass by, it’s best to find a secluded place to eat. Just yesterday, I sat down at a restaurant for lunch and a fella who was already settled to his meal, offered for me to share his dish. I declined, but am amused to imagine what he would do if I had actually stuck my hand in his bowl and taken a bite.
This is one example of the clash of customs between the tourists and the locals. They tourists gobble down their cokes, cookies, yogurt, bottled water in public (particularly irksome during Ramadan when the locals are hungry, thirsty and less inclined to understanding) and offer nary a thing to those around them. Then the tourists get irked because the children will ask for a bit of their repast, which to the children is a reasonable request. Neither seeming to understand why the other is acting so rudely. I choose to eat in private because I don’t want to share my food with all of those grubby little hands either nor do I want to offend. But I digress.
Back to my morning routine. Each day I sweep off the veranda as an enormous amount of sand collects on it each and every day.
After that, I will take a bucket bath or more often than not, just went my hair and wash my face. This will get increasingly difficult as the winter sets in. Right now, the water from the robinet is warmish, and adding a bucketful to the existing water in the tub, warms it sufficiently to pour over me. The bath is cool but tolerable. I also take a bucket bath in the evening; the cool water is brilliant for rinsing away the heat and frustration of the day. There is little better than crawling into bed all clean and fresh. Add some crisp white sheets and I’d be in heaven. Yeah, I know, it’s a lot of water considering I live in the Sahara but cut me some slack; I’ve given up furniture, nutrition, shorts, crisp white sheets on a mattress, a mattress and most adult pleasures in exchange for wasting a bit of a natural resource. I have never claimed to be a Saint nor without contradiction. But I digress yet again. Once winter sets in, bathing will require me to add boiling water to the mix as the overnight temperatures fall and some nights the water can actually form ice crystals.
As my hair is getting longer, I do a quick "blow-dry" it in front of the fan, just to give it some shape. So far I haven’t bothered with makeup. Praise Allah there are no mirrors or glass storefronts in this country. In my mind’s eye I am as fresh faced as my fellow volunteers. I use their youthful visage as my mirror. To date, no one has run screaming from me in horror. That’s if you don’t count the really small children who have been told that a toubab will eat them.
Next, I might also throw in a load of laundry. This is accomplished by filling a tub with water, dissolving the powered soap, adding the clothes, swish a bit and letting them soak for hours in the sun. I was told by veteran volunteers that soaking for hours in the sun is the only way to get your clothes clean. I don’t adhere to the scrubbing the fabric with itself until one has blisters and my irreplaceable, or rather, have to take a trip to the US to replace, clothes are worn with holes. Besides, I don’t get too dirty, just sweaty and dusty from the sand. Here’s a PC success story. I did get my socks so sparkling white I had to show them off to the other volunteers. Lots of Omo, bleach, soaking in the sun and a bit of scrubbing the soles worked wonders. Note to those who might try this at home, don’t soak your dirty socks in the sun with your less dirty whites. Everything turns grayish dull and requires a rewash. There is no such thing as a quick bit of laundry although some have tried. Volunteers have actually been stopped on the street to be informed of just how dirty their clothes are. How the Mauritanians, who are known for their fashion and many spend far too much of their budget on clothes, keep theirs so spotless? This is a mystery to all of us. Another mystery, why, when the detergent called Omo gets wet, does it heat up slightly burning your hand. Possibly one of you can do some research on that for me, but if it’s bad news, don’t tell me. Later in the afternoon, I will put them through the rinse cycle and hang them on the line, after the sun as abated, where they dry instantly. Yet again, I digress.
Back to my morning routine. Some time during the morning, I will make sure that all of my water containers are full. My house has a robinet which is a water faucet in my yard, like your outdoor spigot, which delivers city water, which is said to be potable. But as in most developing countries, utilities here are intermittent. It's not unusual for the water to go out for a day or 2, occasionally up to a week and sometimes weeks. So I try to have my bath bucket full and a dozen or so water bottles as well as any other water holding vessel filled. As I said, the water is potable out of the faucet, but I still opt to filter it through the Peace Corps issued filter. A, I can keep it cool in the filter and B. my immune system is already working full tilt, why tax it unnecessarily. Others have cisterns which are wells that they have filled bi-monthlyish by a water truck. Although a cistern is more reliable than a robinet, it's often full of debris and living organisms therefore not potable without some treatment. Futhering the insult, your water needs to be drawn one bucket at a time which is a different form of inconvenient. You ask about indoor plumbing? I've never seen any outside of the hotels and a restaurant where we ate in Nouakchott. Possibly some of the patron houses have it, but alas, as of today I have had neither the privilege nor advantage of meeting a patron and sadly have been unable to partake of their imagined comforts.
This is when my days diverge.
Today, Thursday, I met Ellen, a 2nd year volunteer, at the Mayor’s office to discuss a trash removal project. We have spent quite a bit of time at the mayor's office meeting with the Secretary General over that last month as we wanted to move our bureau to their facility. The Secretary General seems rather like a City Manager. I went along because I am affectated to his office and although my language isn't ready for much dialogue, poking my head in every chance I get can't be bad. Peace Corps wants the cities who have requested our presence, in which we work, to pony up our office space as a sign of support both fiscally and publically. Alas, there was no room in their building proper. This pains me greatly as that building is more secure than our current locale. More importantly, each office has 2 opposing doors which open onto covered, shady verandas, allowing a wonderful breeze to flow through. Ah a breeze. I long for a breeze. Our current bureau is akin to an oven, le four in French. But it is not to be as all of the offices in that building are occupied. He offered us the use of the Salle de Reunion with its 9 broken, unsecured windows. This would necessitate us having to move our desktop computer to a more secure spot, each day. It goes without saying, we regretfully declined. He did, however, offer another office in another facility. So we took it. It has a window, toilet, robinet and 24 hour, inshallah, security guard, all of which are vast improvements from our current location. During one of those meetings about the bureau, the Secretary General suggested to Ellen that he would like to work with her on a sustainable trash program. Over the last couple of years PC-RIM has had an annual trash clean up day wrapped around a ½ marathon here in Atar. In its current form, it’s not a sustainable event as the participants are solely the volunteers. Apparently it is so not a part of this culture to run/walk a marathon. As a matter of fact, during the marathon, the locals who pass in their cars, endlessly offer rides to the participants. They must think we are nuts. Anyway, not only does he want a trash removal system sponsored by the city, he also wants to have posters about and conduct sensibilazations (public education) on the problems of litter for the people of Atar. He also mentioned a need to educate the masses about the problems with having livestock living so closely with humans but that is a big row to hoe. Heifer International would find quite a calling here. Ellen suggested that they could start by working through her elementary school Eco-Clubs. He was very enthusiastic about this idea, even going as far as listing the items that they might need such as trash bags, masks, gloves, etc.
Another suggested that the Secretary General had probably read her 2nd year plan and taken the ideas from there. Honestly, who cares what muse gave him the idea. It appears that she is going to get to work on one of her 2nd year goals in cooperation with the city. As I understand it, up till now, there has been little interaction between the PC volunteers and that office. I’d like to think that this breakthrough is a direct result of my affectation to that office. I am the first volunteer affectated (posted to) to the mayor’s office thus giving us some leverage. Of course, they suggested that I should spend my time filing, so maybe not so much leverage. Nevertheless, this is a huge success.
At this same meeting she brings up another project on which she is working for facility improvements to 3 of the 15 schools in Atar. She has secured her part, the vast majority, of the funding for this project but is still waiting for word from the city regarding their portion of the cost of the improvements to the restrooms (latrines), robinets, etc. I’ll have to ask her where she secured the funding; I believe it’s from folks like you, our family and friends who heed the call to donate for our projects. Clever on the part of the PC, not only do we donate our lives but we also bring with us an entourage of the willing with a ready reserve of cash for some of the development needs. Although she has had a numerous conversations about and has submitted a written proposal including budget, the Secretary General doesn’t recall the project. Deciding it is more time efficient to have all parties involved in the room to move this forward, we set another meeting at noon when the Major Adjoint (Vice Mayor-ish, who is elected) is available as well. The Mayor Adjoint splits his time between his elected position and as an English teacher at the Lycee. This is a boon for me as I am to be working with him. He admittedly speaks better English than French, and as fate would have it, so do I. We return, fairly close to noon. The Mayor Adjoint is in but the Secretary General is not. The Mayor Adjoint remembered the project and will try to get us some answers. I am to drop off another copy of the budget on Monday morning, they are to discuss it amongst themselves then we are to meet again on Tuesday morning. Inshallah. Did I mention that this project was to have been completed before the school was back in session on Oct 1?
Another morning, we headed out on a trip to a newish feeding center in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Atar. The fellow that runs it has been trying to get the Atar PCV’s to visit since Spring, but due to travel and training schedules, this was the first opportunity. I can’t give you too many details because the conversations were held in French. I believe the center is sponsored, at least in part, by a French NGO, La Sante Sans Frontiers, or at least their literature is around. Let me give you a picture of the place. You walk in the gate and in the middle of the compound stands a large hangar. (Tent without sides) When we first arrived there were 20 or so children sitting rather quietly under the hangar. We walked past the children into the room that was being used for a kitchen. All rooms, regardless of their purpose here in the RIM look the same. There is no such thing as cabinetry so a room can just as easily be a kitchen as a bedroom as a salon. They are simply empty squares with 4 walls and usually some windows that can be at ground level up to normal window height. The windows at my house open at ground level. This particular room was the cleanest room I have ever been in here in Mauritania. It was well equipped relative to other places in Mauritania. Sitting (Indian style on the floor) with my back to the door, to my right along the far wall there was a long table with 2 shelves below that held the bowls and cups. Next to that was another table with a 2 burner propane stove with the large tank on the floor right beside it. The shelf under that table contained various plastic tubs storing the various ingredients for each meal. Across from me, on the other side of the room, to the left of the door, there were a number of bidons, buckets and other water holding vessels. I don’t recall what was on the left wall. There couldn’t have been much as on this morning, it was the tea station. We met one of the cooks and another gentleman who seemed to do odd jobs and errands around the place. We all sat in the kitchen, had tea, and discussed their work. As I said, all of this conversation was in French, so bits are missing from my understanding. Basically, they started in February and serve 110 children in the surrounding neighborhood. Monday through Saturday they feed the children breakfast which consists of bread and milk and lunch which on this day was a bowl of rice with bits of vegetables and possibly meat. I didn’t see the lunch prepared so I am not exactly sure of what was in the dish. As we are sitting around having this conversation, more and more children are starting to arrive. For the most part, except for a tussling match, they are sitting quietly under the tent, watching the doings in the kitchen (us). According to lead fellow, there are a number of feeding centers in Atar, but like so many services in the US, most aren’t reaching the population or actually providing the service they are intended. From our perspective, we are wary of the purpose of our visit. We are analyzing if this might be one of those unproductive centers masquerading as a useful endeavor. Skeptical that we were invited to visit in order to solicit funds, we look around with discerning eyes. As we are sitting there, another cook shows up. She empties 6-7 Kilos of rice into a bucket and disappears out the door into the courtyard, presumably to cook the rice. She returns far too soon, by my time clock, with a pot, I mean enormous pot, of food ready to serve. For as many mouths as there are to feed and with a kitchen full of visitors underfoot, literally, the place is amazingly calm. Possibly it’s because Mauritania is a culture of communal living and households often contain 20 or more individuals, cooking for 110 children is no big endeavor. The workers then proceed to portion it into 101 little bowls; we only have 101 children today, stretched out across that large table on my right. During this time another fellow is out in the courtyard filling a couple of basins with soapy bleach water. Each child gets up and single file washes their hands in the soap, many up to the elbows, then files to our station where we pour clear water over their hands to rinse. Some are more willing to have us perform this task then others. Remember toubabs eat children, but eventually all small hands get rinsed. The first half of the group filled the 2nd room in the facility where roughly 8 4X4 table clothes have been spread on the floor. The children take their place and sit quietly waiting for their meal to be delivered. This is astounding. There are 40 children in this room hardly making a peep. Meals are taken very, very, very seriously in this country. I remember for a few days during stage I was ill. I knew a meal of hot, oily rice was not going to be an answer so I skipped 3. My family was stunned and concerned. You’d have thought that a person skipping a meal was a person on their death bed. Rather than eat, I opted to lie down and try to nap during the long lunch break. Religiously, they showed up with a plate just to make sure I didn’t need food. Let me tell you, there is little that is less appetizing to a health stomach, let alone a queezy stomach, than picked over tieboudienne. According to Lonely Planet, spellings vary (pronounced che-bou-jen). But again, I digress.
The remainder of the 101 children that showed up this day ate under the hangar. When the first to eat were done they deposited their bowl into a tub of even more soapy, bleachy water. They then filtered back through the rinse station to rinse their hands as the end of line was still in their first cycle and yet to eat. By the way, they eat with their hands. Once done with eating, they lined up for a big slug of water, from a communal cup. At the end, off they went back to school or home with their bellies full and clean, bleachy hands. A success by my standards. This endeavor is a well oiled machine. There was nary a grain of rice on the floor of the room where 40 little children had eaten, unsupervised.
As a Peace Corps volunteer one seems to always be on the lookout for opportunities, people and places to do good, hopefully rewarding work. This nutrition center invited us to hold whatever classes we’d like at their facility or just come by and help, any day of the week. What better place to reach the people we want to serve than a successful nutrition center in the poorest part of town. I am finding that many days here are hard days when I feel that I have accomplished little. But this was a good day. We all left with our spirits lifted and with a glimmer of hope that we had found a place where we can do something useful.
Mornings, by far, are the most productive time. Mind you that I have been a tag along in the above events. These are all projects and opportunities that the 2nd year volunteers in Atar through their contacts and efforts have brought into fruition.
Another morning, Friday, the next day from above, I composed the rough draft of this blog from the comfort of my veranda while boiling my bissap. As the weather has turn hot AGAIN, I have only another hour before the heat necessitates that I put away my laptop. We had a few days reprieve from the heat and it was glorious. The day was cool enough that Mark and I went for a 3 hour hike which felt like heaven. My muscles objected to the mistreatment as they’ve been in repose for 4 months. I actually bought a blanket which I used. It was wonderful and although the heat returning has put me, for one, into a funk. The knowledge that the weather can be tolerable is reason to continue living.
A side note, one of the many things that I miss is a weather forecast. I have no idea, other than hot, what the weather is going to be. Is there a cool down headed our way? Rain? Wind? Interminable heat? What’s the forecast for the winter? Will it be mild? Severe? Who knew that brief 4 minutes each evening would be something for which I would long?
Lunch comes around 1pm. If we aren’t eating with a family, which will take the better part of the afternoon, we go to one of the 3 restaurants we frequent. Selection is easy as only cheyboujen at 200 um is served. I could get a camel sandwich, 200 um, which should be more aptly named french fry, mayonnaise and oily onion sauce on a baguette sandwich. There is nothing nutritious in it and I pay dearly, read diarrhea, for the indulgence. In truth, the camel sandwiches offered at lunch aren’t an indulgence; it’s just something other than cheyboujen.
After lunch, which takes 20 minutes, we might watch a DVD, read a book, take a nap, work on correspondences or blogs. I often must run home after lunch to use my latrine as it is the cleanest in town. Bleach is a miracle liquid and I go through a lot of it. In the summer that I have been here I have found that I can go hours between pit stops because of the sweat factor. Once it cools down I am going to have to figure out either the fastest way back to my latrine to pee or find some somewhat sanitary alternative. If I were a Mauritanian, old, young, male, female, I just cop a squat along some wall and do my business. But alas, to my American sensibilities, the world is not my toilet. Sorry if that is TMI in the States, but you’ve asked me for more specifics. Believe me; I am sparing you the details that an uninitiated have no need to know and little context in which to understand. Here, all of your bodily functions are a constant source of conversation and often amusement for your fellow volunteers.
Later in the afternoon, just at the time I am ready for a nap, I need to rally to head off to my French class at the French Alliance. I attend Monday through Friday 4 to 6. I’ll save the details of that for another blog.
After that, I wile away another couple of hours either by hopping online at the cyber if it has a connection and an empty seat, or preferably, at our bureau if it has a connection. I am heartsick about the wildfires in San Diego. Since news is sparse, I appreciate all of the information that you have been sending.
Dinner is around 8. We usually choose one of 3 restaurants, Sauce’s, Howa’s or Zeinebou’s. We almost had another Le Gazelle, but their plates far exceed our meal allowance. Sauce’s serves Couscous with a tasty Camel Stew Sauce or occasionally she serves Mafe, which is a peanut sauce over rice for 200 um. The place was dubbed Sauce’s because it offers both Soy Sauce and Hot Sauce with your meal. Howa’s serves the widest selection offering either a bowl of Beans- I believe black-eyed peas in a savory tomato sauce, Couscous with a meaty sauce, Rice and Sauce (kind of like chef Boy-ar-dee tomato sauce ((oh how I miss beefaroni and spaghettios. Comfort foods from my youth. Even those organic ones with the silly rabbits on the label)), Mafe or Spaghetti, which is spaghetti with a greasy oil sauce and bits of meat (we never order this) each for 200UM. On the nights you feel like splurging and are low on protein you can have Fried Chicken with french fries and a side of tomato or Beeftec, which is camel, with french fries and tomatoes for 500 um. (Information you need to really process this data. Our food budget is less than 700 um per day. I am always significantly over that with my breakfast splurge of milk and fruit- if I wrote a blog on my thoughts on the Peace Corps wages I’d probably get a quick ticket home. Middle class my eye!) The chicken is fried but not breaded and stuffed with a spicy paste, the same paste that is used in the fish cheyboujen, and it’s tasty. The beans, beeftec and chicken are also served with a big hunk of baguette. Not all dishes are served every night. I love the beans but more often than not they aren’t available. Each plate comes with an enormous cup of ice cold water. I remember well my first visit to Howa’s back in August. First came the cold water. Oh my god! So good! Then came the bowl of beans. After a diet of oily rice or couscous for every meal, the taste of something savory and delectable made me feel like I had died and gone to heaven? These dishes were and probably are the envy of all of the other pcv/t’s most of whom aren’t as lucky as to have a Howa’s at their site.
How is the ambiance you ask? It’s impossible to describe the interiors. We eat on long thin tables on long rickety benches. There are 3 positioned on each wall. Sauces furnishings are very similar to Howa’s except that the tables are pushed up against the wall so you are sitting, side by each, on the rickety bench facing the wall. Since Ramadan ended, both restaurants have spruced up their interiors, laying new, matching vinyl on the floor, tables and benches. All is held in place with a lots of thumb tacks. Howa’s is so a sauna. Its so hot inside that once you have taken a few gulps of the water you instantly break out with beads of sweat all over your forehead and more rolling all the way down to the small of your back. Did I mention that it’s hot here? You will also be entertained or surprised, take your pick, by the family of mice that scampers out to grab any morsel that has fallen to the floor. They seem to time their forage until after the offending patron has left. Maybe big feet keep them at bay. One afternoon, while sitting at lunch, we heard a loud car horn just outside the door. Suddenly a flock of sheep came tearing through the dining room, up the steps into the courtyard that doubles as the kitchen. After a few brief minutes, back came the sheep, down the stairs, back through the dining room and into the street. The patrons barely looked up. It’s astounding to me how quickly the absurd becomes commonplace around here.
We watched V for Vendetta the other night. I don’t know if you have seen it but there is a scene where the female character is being held captive in a cell. Her food is delivered and a rat comes out to eat it. I sat there thinking; only one rat, that’s not so bad. I usually eat with an entire pride of mice at my feet. (I don’t know what a group of mice are called pride/flock/pack/gaggle) Then the camera pans out for an aerial view of her room. She had a flush toilet with toilet paper. I am thunderstruck by the thought that she, in a scene meant to show deprivation, had better living accommodations than me. It still brings a smile to my face to recall that image for you. Forgive me for being so tangential today.
Back to supper options. Our last option is Zeinebou’s. She is a new friend. One of the volunteers moved to a new area of town and on his trek home he stumbled across her restaurant. He made some inquiries. Since she spoke a bit of English, was exceptionally friendly and said she served sandwiches (there is only one kind) we decided to try her place. She is an incredibly beautiful Wolof woman. We ventured to her restaurant for the first time just before Ramadan began. She also serves cheyboujen at lunch. She makes the cheyboujen at home then carries it on her head to the restaurant. Take a look at my flikr photos of life in Boghe and see the size of the pots they cook on and imagine carrying one of those down the street on your head. It is an impressive feat. Her sandwiches, which are her dinner fare, are incredible. They are light on French fries, reasonable on camel and contain tomatoes, hard boiled eggs and occasionally lettuce. Where the heck does she get lettuce? Every bite is a symphony. During Ramadan since she served neither cheyboyjen nor sandwiches, she offered Chakery, Bissap and Tejmardt. (no idea how that is spelled) Chakery is yogurt mixed with couscous and her recipe also has fruit. Yum! Oh my god it’s good and I imagine that it also contains calcium.. Bissap and tejmardt are drinks and hers are the best in town. We stopped by many a night for dessert. Sadly she dropped the chakery, bissap and tejmart from her menu after Ramadan because she’s a one man band and she can’t do it all. Now we have no where to go for dessert. Arrrrggghhhh the humanity!
That is it for the food offerings in Atar. For some perspective, outside of Nouakchott and Noudibou, we have the most and best food available in this country. This unfortunate fact is hard to believe because we are surrounded by the fine cuisine of Morocco and Senegal. The mind reels. My diet consists of beans, couscous & sauce, cheyboujen, sandwich and occasionally poulet and beeftek. It’s the lack of variety that drives a soul to…….
Most nights, after dinner I am ready to call it a day. A couple of nights ago we met briefly to go over some ground rules for the English classes we will be teaching. Sometimes we watch a movie or an episode of Lost at one of our houses. Season 2 isn’t nearly as good as Season 1. When I finally get home at the end of my day, I refill any water vessel that has been emptied during the day. Lord knows if the water will work in the AM and I have learned not to miss any opportunities. I wet my water filter cooling system, bissap bidons and set up the bowl and bandana to cool down the milk I lug out my bedding, take a quick bucket bath and go to bed wet and cool, via that same evaporation process. Then it’s off to dreamland. Inshallah.
PS. An update to my phone blog. Sad news, we can’t do business with Chingatel so the hopes for a high speed, free, unlimited, reliable internet have been dashed. Apparently the Sudanese government, what with all of their genocide, is a stakeholder in Chingatel thus Peace Corps will not do business with them. Unless some miracle has occurred at Mauritel, we are back to unreliable, costly, dial up at our new bureau. Boycotting is much easier when you have other similar options to use. It’s not so fun when its only real effect is to inconvenience you. I am sure Chingatel doesn’t give a rats ass, yes I said rats ass, about our piddly little account. AT&T certainly isn’t hurting from my 10+ year boycott of their services. But boycott we will. I have been saving all of the e-mail jokes to read when I had some leisure on line but that seems a pipedream today. Damn bad men screwing up my dream.
On an unrelated topic, I would like to get pictures of all of this up for your enjoyment. But bring out my digital in public is risky. I wouldn’t hesitate if I were a tourist; I don’t feel unsafe in that way. But being one of 6 toubabs in town, everyone knows where we live, so you don’t want to be flaunting your valuables. I certainly don’t want to give the impression that I live amongst a population of thieves. I do not. Most are charming and honest. Sadly it only takes one little bastard to ruin your day. It’s not the monetary value of the item that is at issue. It is that ipods, cameras, laptops, chargers, etc are unavailable for purchase here in Mauritania. Already, we have had a couple of v’s who have been burglarized and they are very, very, very sad. A laptop stolen with his journaling, the photos on his digital of his host family and time in training and his painstakingly selected collection of music intended to support him through this 2 year odyssey are all gone. It’s more devastating than you can imagine in the Promised Land.
Another bit of housekeeping. One of the other volunteers, Kelsea, who gets loads of phone calls from the states recommends getting phone cards at www.callingcards.com. Her family and friends use the African Safari card. You can check to see if they offer better rates than your current calling plan.
Lastly, I just finished reading The Curious Incident of a Dog in the Night-Time (or something like that). It is a quick read and quite brilliant. I highly recommend it.
