Boooring

Wanted to apologize for the prevous several posts because they were long and well, long. I am going to make up for that with this top 5 list:

Top 5 Reasons to Visit me in Garly:

5. You can watch the sun rise with me after being woken up by the prayer call and the gazillion sheep, dogs and roosters that live right next to my hut
4. You would get the "visitor treatment" which entails all the important people in the village coming over to greet and drink milk. It's quite flattering, actually as I got to witness a fellow PCV's experience with it when she came to visit me.
3. I can teach you how to pull water from a well and then carry it in a bucket, on your head, up a hill. Doesn't sound fun? Oh it is, especially when everyone awake comes to watch you, expecting you to fall or spill the water everywhere.
2. We can climb the local "mountain" and gaze out over the river that divides Senegal and Mauritania...I won't take you in the river because it contains parasites that start to eat your organs before you have any symptoms of the parasite.
1. It's a great way to escape modern conveniences, luxuries, and any contact with the outside world whatsoever. You thought our Canada cottage was a vacation? The world could end and I wouldn't know it, in Garly.

So, please, you are all welcome any time- just ask for the toubab.

The Last Bit

--Is their friendliness genuine? Why do you think they're so generous?

I think I can understand where you're coming from with this question. It is hard to imagine that every person in a country is so flipping nice, and I suppose they're not. It is customary to offer what you are eating/drinking to everyone around you, but that's similar to Americans waiting to eat until everyone is sitting down. It's just what is considered manners. The fact that Mauritanians are so generous with their living spaces (willingly opening up rooms for strangers and what not) is just ingrained as what one does. Also, pretty much everyone is family in one aspect or another, so perhaps they just function with the assumption that they are all related.

--Do they have TV or know anything about how the rest of the world lives?

They probably know more about American rappers than I do- at least the young people do. Also, some of the American history knowledge is astounding. These are educated men, usually. Women that have gone to minimal school know less about the States. Despite what they do know, it is impossible to explain the vast differences between home and here. I can hardly fathom America in all its excessiveness sometimes, let alone describe a shopping mall or amusement park to someone who has only ever seen three small villages in southern Mauritania.


--If they do, are they jealous?

America is considered a mecca of opportunity and goodness. It is assumed that everyone wants to go there, and they are proud when they have family living there. Jealous is probably not the word. It is amazingly expensive to apply for the papers to get to the states, so I think often it is just an out of reach paradise.


--Are people dying from malnutrition around you? Or maybe malaria? Is death common? What do they do with the dead? Are babies born at home with midwives?

Whoa. Yes, children die from diarrhea and other results of malnutrition all the time. Women die while giving birth way more often than children. Malaria is incredibly common and is the most common cause of death. Just during the two months we've been here, I have heard of about 10 people (several children) having died in the host families of Peace Corps people. Death is seen as Allah's will. I don't know what happens to the dead bodies. Yes, all babies are born at home. Hopefully there's a midwife around, but sometimes they just hope for the best. Medical resources, in the small villages, is laughable.

What a nice positive note to end on. Cheers.

Just an Idea

So I started this website thing through Shutterfly because I am unbelievably tired of writing all about myself and I want to see YOUR pictures and read YOUR words.

So, here's the site:
http://www.laurajeannesmith.shutterfly.com


if you're not a member, I guess you can't do it. It's free to become a member, if you choose to do that, but not pressure. If you are already a Shutterfly member, sign in and put some pictures up. Please? Jules, I can count on you right? I am really bored with looking at the five pictures I brought here.

Maybe this will bomb, and that's ok.

Not Bored Yet?

--How much rain do you get in the rainy season and do they have anything like umbrellas? Or do people just get wet?

I have no idea about how much rain, and I would be shocked if anyone actually measured it. However, I do think people's reaction to the rain is fascinating. For a group of people that spend their whole lives being hot and dry, I would think they would appreciate a little standing-in-the-rain-action. Not the case. As soon as it looks like it's going to rain, people move quicker than they do at any other time, bringing everything indoors. People will sprint just to get out of the (incredibly refreshing) rain. My host family told me the rain was bad for my head, when I was enjoying the drop in temperature and the wetness, so I don't know.

--What is the temperature there at this time of year?

During the rainy season I'd say it doesn't drop below 85 EVER...it's hard to say an average but high 90s for sure. The hot season (oh god I am already bracing myself) I think it's a steady 100 and something.



--If the youngest girl does all the housework and shopping, what do other people do?

Great question, mom. My host father drinks about 21 casses (cups) of tea a day. That is 7 sets of 3 rounds. He has other members of the family doing everything for me, including making the tea he drinks. Young men go to the fields during the rainy season, but just sit around (literally, they simply sit and talk, repeat the greetings a few times, and drink tea) for the other seasons. The women generally do housework all day. Laundry takes hours and hours of scrubbing. I helped prepare lunch the other day and it took two hours to clean, peel, cut and cook carrots.

--How do they earn money or is bartering more common?

Common jobs include: fishing, agriculture, tie-dying for women, tailoring, teaching...oh and stuff with Islam. Money is definitely the goal here. Bartering takes place only in the sense that you never pay the asking price. I am getting quite stubborn with my shopping- I take a no-nonsense, I'm not rich just because I'm white type attitude.


--Do they grow their own food or buy it all at the market?

A few families have gardens for tea leaves and small veggies, but most buy food at the market. Even people that are farmers focus mainly on one type of food, so the market is a bustling place. Because no one has refrigerators, women have to go shopping for food three times a day, and they buy only the ingredients necessary for the next meal. Being a woman here is in a word: hardwork. (Or is that two words? hard work?)

Continued Later...

My Mother's questions

So I got an email from my mom with an impressive amount of questions. She seems to think my flighty and scattered blog thoughts are lacking solid information. Because she is right (as parents always seem to be, even an ocean away) I thought I would respond to the best of my abilities to her inquiries:

--Are the people there happier than here? Or are we all the same?

Hm. Well, the honest answer is that I don't know. I get the sense that we are definitely NOT all the same, but the cultural differences are still totally beyond me. I think that people experience less conflict with bad things that happen because of the general fatalistic attitude here. So much depends on "if Allah agrees" and "Allah willing" than when babies die, or women are lacking the opportunities men are, it's just kind of accepted. This doesn't mean people are happier, I suppose, just way more passive about terrible things.


--Are there animal feces everywhere and if so, how do you keep from stepping in them all day?


Awesome. This is way easier than the first question. Yes, there is poop everywhere. In the streets, on the side of the streets, in the yard. Totally and completely everywhere. Just like many gross things on the ground, you just walk carefully. And when you get a squishy treat on the bottom of your (awesome, and i totally recommend to everyone) Chaco sandals, you just gotta laugh.


--Does it smell bad there?


The bigger cities smell like the hot trash that is cooking out on the streets and in the puddles of standing water. Smaller villages just smell like the river, or grass, or heat. (Ok, perhaps heat doesn't have a smell, but it permeates life in the same way.)

To Be Continued...

Laura's new address

laura smith, pcv
corps de la paix
BP 66
Kaedi, Mauritania
WEST AFRICA

Also, putting crosses on packages is no longer advised.

Picture Me...

Wearing my jeans for the first time in two months and getting choked
up because I didn't realize until I zipped up the zipper that I miss
wearing pants. I miss them more than rationally explained.

Standing outside after a torrential rainfall, watching my host sister
leaning over the sheep pen with her perfect figure arching
impatiently, waiting for the sheep to eat the leftover rice she
offered. Her hoop earrings dangled and she stood painfully pretty
while the sheep created yellow oil beards up to their eyes.

Sitting in the rain, long skirt snaked back and forth through my legs
while I straddled the dishes I scrubbed furiously. Getting drenched
from the sky and spilling soap suds on my feet while my family told me
I should marry a Mauritanian man, now that I finally know how to do
some housework.

Swinging on an emotional pendulem that runs on language acquistion. Me
literally raising my fists in victory after a successful Pulaar
exchange, or turning red and bashful after accidentally blurting out
terribly inappropriate words...too inappropriate to write here, in
fact. Words feel like jewels falling from people's mouths when I grasp
their meaning, or they smart in my ears if I have still not grasped
the form of the verb in question.

Lastly, me serving as the judge for my host brothers and their
countless adolescent male friends and their endless dancing/singing
contests. This Mauritanian idol takes place on our roof, increasing in
volume and intensity as the dark increases and provides cover for the
more bashful participants. (My self-proclaimed "guardian angel" host
brother made sure his friends didn't treat me too much like a toubab
by asking me if I had heard of Tupac and other such American rappers,
but made them talk about normal things- always in Pulaar of course. No
English, he always said.)

New Developments

I have not written for over two weeks. One might think something exciting or interesting must have happened (oh man, I forget how to spell that word- is it too soon for my English skills to be decreasing thansk to a new language crowding my brain?) by now. Well, you would be wrong. However, every day I learn something new, so here are some morsels of knowledge I have acquired in the past 14 days:
-I now know all the vulgar words in Pulaar. We had an entire class time dedicated to insults which was sweet. Of course, we were loudly practicing the pronounciation while our professor nervously looked out the windows and whispered to us to speak carefully
-I learned how to make tea Mauritanian style. It involves increasing the sugar load each round (of which there are three) making sure the third round will give everyone at least one cavity. Bubbles are also coveted, and created by raising the tea pot as high as possible over the shot-glass sized glasses. Sticky business.
-I can officially make the "cluck" sound that means "yes" here. I know I joked before I left the states that I would be learning a clicking language, and while I am not, I do cherish the noise that so many practice. It is made by sticking your tongue to the roof of your mouth and then pulling down. All with your mouth closed. The effect is quite nice, and useful for when you are wearing your headlamp and flies are literally swarming your face, just waiting for your mouth to open just to say "yes."