my girls go to garly

Despite my warnings of discomfort and culture shock, the women of the Smith clan (minus our newlywed who couldn’t tear herself away from either her hubby or her dog, we don’t know which) traveled back with me to Mauritania.

“Ugly,” was my mother’s first reaction to the country capital Nouakchott. “There’s trash everywhere,” the younger sisters chorused. Bizarre observations to me because I had stopped being aware of Nouakchott’s appearance long ago. Luckily, we spent a minimal amount of time in Mauritania’s unimpressive bigger cities. (Keep in mind even the word “city” is a stretch, seeing how I can count the number of paved rounds in Mauritania on two hands.)

We jetted out to Garly and were met with such hospitality and care that we all were moved to tears at various times. (My mother at the most inconvenient ones, such as when they meet the village chief.) The health committee called in drummers from Senegal and girls from the village wore costumes and danced for us. Village elders came to welcome my mother and sisters, some with presents and others with endless words of praise for yours truly.

The goat the health committee slaughtered for us served as a basis for every snack and meal. A valuable source of protein and an ironic gift for the two vegetarians (Michelle and Lisa) who had to pick carefully through every meal.

My girls learned to carry water on their heads, how to pick beans in the fields, felt the pain of riding in the back of a truck, carried young babies around (maybe even got peed on, thanks to the lack of diapers.) They slept on the ground without a complaint, helped my host family pound wheat and laughed easily at themselves and children’s choice of clothing (specifically “hood boy” who wore a t-shirt, shorts, and a winter coat hood.)

I feel blessed to have been able to share my village and life with four of my favorite females in the world. I had the pleasure (and pain) of serving as their voice and guide for several days in a strange land. A priceless, surreal experience of which only the pictures remain to those state-bound that they did actually experience