(Disclaimer: this post is mostly going to be me complaining about life back at site. It's not as bad as it's going to sounds, but I got spoiled in Morocco.)
Looking back on my last few posts, I realized that I haven't posted much about site or Mauritania in general lately. I've been traveling a lot, and work hasn't been too eventful. I was back at site for less than two weeks post-Morocco before I went into Atar to plan a conference for the mentors and teachers from my regional and a couple of other GMCs. In Mauritania time, thats nothing. It took me a few days to get settled in before I could even think about teaching.
Maintaining my own house is a lot of work. In fact, just living is a lot of work. Cooking dinner in a 2x2 meter concrete box, hauling water out of a cistern for washing dishes in a bucket, bathing in a bucket, watering my bush, constantly refilling my water filter, washing my face and brushing my teeth in my yard with a plastic teapot for water. When I get back from even a few days out of site, I have to sweep a layer of sand out of my room, kitchen and two bathrooms (2x2 meter concrete box with hole in the floor for toilet, identical 2x2 concrete box with hole in the floor for shower) with a bunch of sticks tied together. And that's just my house.
To maintain friendships in this country, you're expected to visit regularly. Close friends visit daily, but as a foreigner, I can get away with once every two or three days. However, if you've been traveling, you need to catch up with everyone as soon as humanly possible. Since visiting usually involves at least an hour or two of eating, tea drinking, and/or sitting around watching TV and chatting, it takes the better part of three days for me to get all my house work and socializing out of the way. I usually get antsy to start working and gloss over the socializing part.
To get started working, I have to plan four separate weekly schedules for my college girls, my "working" women, my primary school girls, and my teachers. Inevitably, their schedules conflict. I have to get in touch with all 40 of these attendees to check their schedules and then put something together that works for all of them, keeping in mind that I have no electricity between 4 and 7 PM (which makes computer classes a huge hassle). Then I have to get in touch with all of them again to make sure they know when their classes are. And getting in touch with people is surprisingly difficult, considering that I live within a kilometer of everyone I work with. I see them pratically everyday, but when I actually need to get in touch with them for something other than shooting the shit, they don't have their cell phones on them, I don't have their number, reception is out, or I don't have the money to pay for the credit to call them all. When I actually get them on the phone, I have to explain things in my still limited Hassaniye. Eveyone expects me to adjust the schedule to meet their individual needs (but usually just wants), and inevitably, I have to redo the schedule 3 times before I can finalize it. Then I have to hope that everyone finds out what it is in time to make it to their classes.
Then I have to put up with less than half of my students showing up to classes because they didn't know when classes were or they just didn't feel like coming to class and I wasn't around to harass them about it. Right now, that's about where I am. I'm starting to get the hang of all this, but its hard to plan ahead because no one else here does.
Had my first real day of classes since I got back today, and it was exhausting. Up at 7 30 (slept through my bread delivery), spent an hour finishing my taxes, tried getting in touch with women to make sure they were going to make it to the 10 AM computer class I scheduled before I left for Atar three days ago. That class was cancelled, and only 2 out of 4 women showed up for the 11:00 class. Worked on the schedule for an hour after class, posted the weeks announcements, then walked home for a quick lunch on my own (usually I eat with a family, but that takes an hour, which I didn't have to spare today). Walking home at mid-day is already scorching, and the hot season hasn't even arrived yet! Back to the GMC half an hour later to finish the schedule and prepare for a two hour english/geography lesson. I usually spend half of class yelling at the girls to be quiet and pay attention. Its not that they're uninterested (well, sometimes it is), but they just have no discipline. After that, I spent an hour sitting in on a french class (my male teachers aren't allowed to be with the girls without a chaperone) and putting together a computer competency program. Finally started to make my way home at 6, which can take anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour, depending on who I see on the way back.
I was supposed to teach a computer lesson from 7 to 8, but I was just not up for it tonight. Another hour to make dinner, whenever I can squeeze that in, or wait until 9 and eat with a Mauritanian family. Hopefully take a bucket bath at some point, and then, if I can keep my eyes open, watch a little something (I've been keeping up with LOST - keeps me sane, ha) and then pass out between 10 and 11. Done.
On top of that, I've got a few secondary projects I've been trying to get off the ground for a while but just haven't had the time. I'm going to try to put together a project to have toilets built for my primary school. I need to get the estimate for that and then write up a grant proposal.
I'm also about to float this idea that's been rolling around in my head for a while. We have a feeding center supplied by an Italian NGO that distributes flour to local vendors for cheap (the grain comes from the World Food Programme). This same Italian NGO has been talking about starting a food program through the primary school, supplying mid-morning snacks (which would serve as breakfast for most students) and lunch. Right now, they want to serve a traditional Mauritanian porridge called inche, which has virtually no nutritional value. However, another PCV trained a women's cooperative in Atar to make a porridge called ceramine, which is a mixture of ground grains that provide a complete protein.
I want to train a women's co-op here in Ain to make ceramine, and have the Italian NGO buy it up and serve it at the school instead of inche. Most of these women's co-ops have no goods worth selling, and even if they did, there's no market for them. They mostly survive from selling vegetables from their gardens, and since everyone grows the same things (not a whole lot of options in the desert), the market is flooded and I can't imagine they make very much money. So, if the ceramine thing flies, these women will not only have a viable product but a market for it. And the kids will actually have something nutritious to eat. Should be an easy sell for the Italian NGO, but I don't know if the women will go for it. Mauritanians are very stubborn and set in their ways, regardless of how successful they are.
So, that's work at the moment. Stressful, but the end of school in June will open up my schedule a bit. I feel like a big whiner right now, ha, but it helps to vent about it. Also puts it in perspective. I can only do so much, and while all my traveling doesn't help, a lot of the difficulties I face here are beyond my control. I just have to accept those limitations. And if I choose to travel the way I do, I have to accept that it'll have an impact on my productivity at site.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Morocco!
So I guess I should preface this little tale by saying that this trip was probably the most fun I've had traveling, ever. Morocco is beautiful, the people are amazingly friendly and helpful, and I'd have a hard time finding a more ridiculously fun and relaxed group of people to travel with.
We kicked off our trip in true Peace Corps fashion by spending the night of St. Patty's in Nouakchott. We had a few celebratory drinks that night (including the infamous 3,500 UM carbomb at Shenkers...we thought it was a good idea at the time), saw a full moon, ripped some pants, had a heated discussion about religion, and left the next morning to make our way up to Nouadibouh. We managed to snag ourselves an awesome driver in Nouakchott who we used for the rest of the trip. Nouadibouh is on the coast about a 6 hour car ride directly north of Nouakchott on the border of Mauritania and Western Sahara (more on that later).
We got into Nouadibouh in the evening. It has a big fishing industry and is the port from which iron ore mined from the north of Mauritania is shipped out to the rest of the world. Since fishing and mining are two of the country's only real sources of income, Nouadibouh is central to the Mauritanian economy and is relatively international (I use that term extremely loosely).
So the seven of us met up with some of the PCVs in Nouadibouh and hung out for two nights. We went out to the ocean one day to play on the beach and explore the ship wrecks just off the coast. Apparently someone decided that Nouadibouh would make an excellent ship graveyard and people started running ships into the shallows near the port. It really does look like a graveyard with all those hulking iron carcasses rusting out in the waves.
We left Nouadibouh on the 21st to make a flight out of a city called Dakhla in Western Sahara. Western Sahara is a huge chunk of territory in between Mauritania and Morocco that the two countries went to war over around 1989. The dispute was never settled, and to this day, the land is simply considered occupied territory. Morocco essentially governs the territory, but it's sovereignty isn't formally recognized. When you cross the Mauritanian border, there's a 5 kilometer "no man's land" before you actually enter Western Sahara. This strip is essentially a buffer between Mauritania and the occupied territory that Morocco claims for itself. It's mined, and the road is unpaved, so drivers have to take extra care to keep to the car tracks that wind through this desolate piece of desert. Even worse, there's actually a population that's trapped there. Citizens of neither Mauritania nor Morocco nor any other country, these people can't ever leave that little strip. They're like people stuck in an international airport or something. It's sad.
We obviously made it to the entrace to Western Sahara (Morocco, for all intents and purposes) in one piece, and crossed the border without any problems. The drive up to Dakhla was beautiful, right along the beach, and we got into the city that evening. The difference between Mauritania and Morocco was noticeable as soon as we crossed the border. Almost immediately we found delicious food and bathrooms with real toilets. And it only got better!
After a quick flight from Dakhla to Casablanca, we crashed at the airport to wait for Steph to arrive from the States. We got in at 2 AM, so we just curled up in our sleeping bags (well, those of us who had them) on the floor and passed out until about 7, when she got in. I was so happy to have her there, and she got along with everyone soooo well. She put up with all of our Mauritania talk and handled the turkish toilet thing like a champ!
So to move this story along (cause I could probably go on forever about all this), we hopped a train to Tangiers after we met up with Steph. Lonely Planet described Tangiers as a seedy port town, but we thought it was gorgeous. Maybe our judgement is slightly impaired, coming from a place like Mauritania, but we really did have a great time there. Our hostel could have used some work, but the city itself was beautiful. Each city or town we visited had a "medina" or marketplace. Usually the oldest parts of the town, they're primarily only open to pedestrians, and the tight, winding little streets are lined with street food, crafts, and some of the cutest clothes ever! We mostly just wandered around the medina in Tangiers. Chels and I got haircuts at a genuine Moroccan women's hair salon, which was an awesome way to get a taste of real Moroccan life. We went out once, but there weren't a whole lot of bars and clubs were generally super expensive. We tended to wander around, drink coffee or Moroccan mint tea, eat street food, hit up a supermarket for wine or something, and then just hang out in our hotel rooms. We were very good at entertaining ourselves.
Our next stop was Fes, which was my favorite of the trip. The medina there is the largest urban pedestrian zone in the world. It has something like 9,000 streets, and it's pretty much impossible to navigate the thing without a guide. The first place our guide took us was the tanneries, which are apparently pretty famous. Also, possible the nastiest things I've ever smelled, but it was cool seeing how they dye all the hides and all the beautiful leather goods they make from them. Our guide took us around to a bunch of other little workshops: weavers and smiths and perfumeries. It was so hard not to wander off cause there were just so many interesting things to check out!
The new part of Fes was also beautiful, but in a totally different way. It was like a modern European city. We stumbled across a real live movie theater one night (granted, we were the only people there, but still!), and went to McDonald's multiple times (I even ate fries...I know, who am I?). I could totally see myself living in that city. It has the perfect combination of old world history and new world conveniences.
After Fes, we had a day-long trek by train and then bus to Essouiera, which is a small town on the coast a couple of hours northwest of Marrakesh. Essouiera is a cute little beachy town that supposedly attracks windsurfers and hippies, but most of the people we saw seemed pretty normal. We rented out a cute little apartment for all 8 of us, and had so much fun. We found a bona fide Moroccan bar (basically a cafe serving beer to a bunch of heavily smoking men) and had some of the best seafood I've ever eaten. Essouiera is a big fishing town and you can buy fish at auction at the docks. There's a strip of shacks right by the port with fish straight off the boats on display, and you just point to what you want or give them whatever you've already bought and they'll grill it up and serve it to you right there. The boys bought some barracuda and crabs at auction, and we all went down to the shacks and had that cooked up with calamari, sardines, eel (I think) and some other fish I didn't recognize. Delicious!!
Our last stop was Marrakesh, which was cool but a little overwhemling at first. It's definitely more of a big city than any of the other stops we made, and the main attraction is this huge square in the middle of the medina. A little touristy (complete with snake charmers, acrobats, and men covered from head to toe posing as belly dancers - I think they really thought they were fooling people), but cool to see, especially at night. Twinkle lights light up the whole square, and throngs of people crowd shoulder to shoulder, wandering through the maze of food stands and performers.
We also spent a day bike riding around the city. Considering that many of us hadn't been on bikes in years, that might not have been the best idea. The streets of Marrakesh are crowded with cars, mopeds and bikers, and lanes are apparently only suggestions. Right after we all got on the road, we were crossing over and these two women on a moped totally wiped out. Rob bit it trying to get up on the curb in the chaos that ensued, and Eric fell cause he was laughing so hard at the whole situation! Ridiculous, haha. After a little while, though, we all got used to the craziness and just went with it. It was a great way to get to know the city, get some exercise and enjoy the sun.
Steph left a night before we did, and being as amazing as she is, put herself and I up in a really nice hotel near the airport her last night. It was 3:30 in the morning when she left, but I was sad to see her go. Still, our last night in Marrakesh was probably my favorite of the trip. The seven of us took over this really cool lounge room on the roof of our hostel and sang and danced and just engaged in all sorts of hooliganry. We were doing impressions of each other and acrobatics and having intense political discussions for no reason in french. Which pretty much sums up the entire trip. As amazing as Morocco is, I think we had such a good time because we were just such an amazing group! As PCVs, we've gotten extremely good at entertaining ourselves and each other with very little to work with. Putting us in a country where even the most boring people could have a good time was like giving someone who can cook fillet mignon on a Foreman a state of the art kitchen. In fact, we are so good at kicking back, rolling with the punches and having fun no matter what, the train to Fes stopped at some station, and we all sat there for 45 minutes before we realized that we had actually arrived in Fes. We read, we chatted, people got off the train to smoke, got back on the train, hung out for a while. Mashallah, the train sat in the station for so long, or we would have been on our way to Tunisia or something in no time.
So we left Marrakesh by plane and arrived in Dakhla in the evening. Spent the night in a hotel, then left the next morning for the border. The drive was fine (though a lot less upbeat than it had been in the opposite direction) until we had to cross into Mauritania. The guards there were holding everyone up trying to extort money from silly foreigners. Luckily it wasn't a problem for us (in that we didn't have to pay, but we still had to wait like 4 hours to get through), but some Portuguese suckers in front of us spent 100 euro and made in through in about as much time we did.
Once we got across the border, Chelsea, Eric and I caught the sole train in Mauritania. It runs from Nouadibouh to Zourat, north of Atar, which is where the iron ore is mined. The train really only exists to ship the ore from Zourat to the port in Nouadibouh, and most people ride for free by jumping in the freight cars. On the way inland, though, the freight cars are empty so you sit in the bottom of what is essentially a huge iron bath tub, can't see anything, and freeze your butt of once the sun goes down. And it's on overnight trip. So we opted to ride in the moldy, rotted out passneger car. It wasn't as bad as we'd been preparing ourselves for, but I think the only reason we managed to sleep as well as we did was because we were so exhausted.
We got off the train around 7 the next morning, and after 3 hours of off roading in the back of an overpacked pick up truck, we finally arrived back in Atar. So, door to door, it took us 3 days of pretty puch constant travel. Kind of intense. I spent a day or two in Atar, then came back to site four or five days ago. I'm still adjusting to the slower, more solitary way of life back in Ain. Once I start teaching again this weekend, I think it'll be easier.
Well, I hope that wasn't unbearably long. I tried to condense things, but it was a pretty eventful trip, and I had fun reminiscing. I'll post pictures as soon as I can!
We kicked off our trip in true Peace Corps fashion by spending the night of St. Patty's in Nouakchott. We had a few celebratory drinks that night (including the infamous 3,500 UM carbomb at Shenkers...we thought it was a good idea at the time), saw a full moon, ripped some pants, had a heated discussion about religion, and left the next morning to make our way up to Nouadibouh. We managed to snag ourselves an awesome driver in Nouakchott who we used for the rest of the trip. Nouadibouh is on the coast about a 6 hour car ride directly north of Nouakchott on the border of Mauritania and Western Sahara (more on that later).
We got into Nouadibouh in the evening. It has a big fishing industry and is the port from which iron ore mined from the north of Mauritania is shipped out to the rest of the world. Since fishing and mining are two of the country's only real sources of income, Nouadibouh is central to the Mauritanian economy and is relatively international (I use that term extremely loosely).
So the seven of us met up with some of the PCVs in Nouadibouh and hung out for two nights. We went out to the ocean one day to play on the beach and explore the ship wrecks just off the coast. Apparently someone decided that Nouadibouh would make an excellent ship graveyard and people started running ships into the shallows near the port. It really does look like a graveyard with all those hulking iron carcasses rusting out in the waves.
We left Nouadibouh on the 21st to make a flight out of a city called Dakhla in Western Sahara. Western Sahara is a huge chunk of territory in between Mauritania and Morocco that the two countries went to war over around 1989. The dispute was never settled, and to this day, the land is simply considered occupied territory. Morocco essentially governs the territory, but it's sovereignty isn't formally recognized. When you cross the Mauritanian border, there's a 5 kilometer "no man's land" before you actually enter Western Sahara. This strip is essentially a buffer between Mauritania and the occupied territory that Morocco claims for itself. It's mined, and the road is unpaved, so drivers have to take extra care to keep to the car tracks that wind through this desolate piece of desert. Even worse, there's actually a population that's trapped there. Citizens of neither Mauritania nor Morocco nor any other country, these people can't ever leave that little strip. They're like people stuck in an international airport or something. It's sad.
We obviously made it to the entrace to Western Sahara (Morocco, for all intents and purposes) in one piece, and crossed the border without any problems. The drive up to Dakhla was beautiful, right along the beach, and we got into the city that evening. The difference between Mauritania and Morocco was noticeable as soon as we crossed the border. Almost immediately we found delicious food and bathrooms with real toilets. And it only got better!
After a quick flight from Dakhla to Casablanca, we crashed at the airport to wait for Steph to arrive from the States. We got in at 2 AM, so we just curled up in our sleeping bags (well, those of us who had them) on the floor and passed out until about 7, when she got in. I was so happy to have her there, and she got along with everyone soooo well. She put up with all of our Mauritania talk and handled the turkish toilet thing like a champ!
So to move this story along (cause I could probably go on forever about all this), we hopped a train to Tangiers after we met up with Steph. Lonely Planet described Tangiers as a seedy port town, but we thought it was gorgeous. Maybe our judgement is slightly impaired, coming from a place like Mauritania, but we really did have a great time there. Our hostel could have used some work, but the city itself was beautiful. Each city or town we visited had a "medina" or marketplace. Usually the oldest parts of the town, they're primarily only open to pedestrians, and the tight, winding little streets are lined with street food, crafts, and some of the cutest clothes ever! We mostly just wandered around the medina in Tangiers. Chels and I got haircuts at a genuine Moroccan women's hair salon, which was an awesome way to get a taste of real Moroccan life. We went out once, but there weren't a whole lot of bars and clubs were generally super expensive. We tended to wander around, drink coffee or Moroccan mint tea, eat street food, hit up a supermarket for wine or something, and then just hang out in our hotel rooms. We were very good at entertaining ourselves.
Our next stop was Fes, which was my favorite of the trip. The medina there is the largest urban pedestrian zone in the world. It has something like 9,000 streets, and it's pretty much impossible to navigate the thing without a guide. The first place our guide took us was the tanneries, which are apparently pretty famous. Also, possible the nastiest things I've ever smelled, but it was cool seeing how they dye all the hides and all the beautiful leather goods they make from them. Our guide took us around to a bunch of other little workshops: weavers and smiths and perfumeries. It was so hard not to wander off cause there were just so many interesting things to check out!
The new part of Fes was also beautiful, but in a totally different way. It was like a modern European city. We stumbled across a real live movie theater one night (granted, we were the only people there, but still!), and went to McDonald's multiple times (I even ate fries...I know, who am I?). I could totally see myself living in that city. It has the perfect combination of old world history and new world conveniences.
After Fes, we had a day-long trek by train and then bus to Essouiera, which is a small town on the coast a couple of hours northwest of Marrakesh. Essouiera is a cute little beachy town that supposedly attracks windsurfers and hippies, but most of the people we saw seemed pretty normal. We rented out a cute little apartment for all 8 of us, and had so much fun. We found a bona fide Moroccan bar (basically a cafe serving beer to a bunch of heavily smoking men) and had some of the best seafood I've ever eaten. Essouiera is a big fishing town and you can buy fish at auction at the docks. There's a strip of shacks right by the port with fish straight off the boats on display, and you just point to what you want or give them whatever you've already bought and they'll grill it up and serve it to you right there. The boys bought some barracuda and crabs at auction, and we all went down to the shacks and had that cooked up with calamari, sardines, eel (I think) and some other fish I didn't recognize. Delicious!!
Our last stop was Marrakesh, which was cool but a little overwhemling at first. It's definitely more of a big city than any of the other stops we made, and the main attraction is this huge square in the middle of the medina. A little touristy (complete with snake charmers, acrobats, and men covered from head to toe posing as belly dancers - I think they really thought they were fooling people), but cool to see, especially at night. Twinkle lights light up the whole square, and throngs of people crowd shoulder to shoulder, wandering through the maze of food stands and performers.
We also spent a day bike riding around the city. Considering that many of us hadn't been on bikes in years, that might not have been the best idea. The streets of Marrakesh are crowded with cars, mopeds and bikers, and lanes are apparently only suggestions. Right after we all got on the road, we were crossing over and these two women on a moped totally wiped out. Rob bit it trying to get up on the curb in the chaos that ensued, and Eric fell cause he was laughing so hard at the whole situation! Ridiculous, haha. After a little while, though, we all got used to the craziness and just went with it. It was a great way to get to know the city, get some exercise and enjoy the sun.
Steph left a night before we did, and being as amazing as she is, put herself and I up in a really nice hotel near the airport her last night. It was 3:30 in the morning when she left, but I was sad to see her go. Still, our last night in Marrakesh was probably my favorite of the trip. The seven of us took over this really cool lounge room on the roof of our hostel and sang and danced and just engaged in all sorts of hooliganry. We were doing impressions of each other and acrobatics and having intense political discussions for no reason in french. Which pretty much sums up the entire trip. As amazing as Morocco is, I think we had such a good time because we were just such an amazing group! As PCVs, we've gotten extremely good at entertaining ourselves and each other with very little to work with. Putting us in a country where even the most boring people could have a good time was like giving someone who can cook fillet mignon on a Foreman a state of the art kitchen. In fact, we are so good at kicking back, rolling with the punches and having fun no matter what, the train to Fes stopped at some station, and we all sat there for 45 minutes before we realized that we had actually arrived in Fes. We read, we chatted, people got off the train to smoke, got back on the train, hung out for a while. Mashallah, the train sat in the station for so long, or we would have been on our way to Tunisia or something in no time.
So we left Marrakesh by plane and arrived in Dakhla in the evening. Spent the night in a hotel, then left the next morning for the border. The drive was fine (though a lot less upbeat than it had been in the opposite direction) until we had to cross into Mauritania. The guards there were holding everyone up trying to extort money from silly foreigners. Luckily it wasn't a problem for us (in that we didn't have to pay, but we still had to wait like 4 hours to get through), but some Portuguese suckers in front of us spent 100 euro and made in through in about as much time we did.
Once we got across the border, Chelsea, Eric and I caught the sole train in Mauritania. It runs from Nouadibouh to Zourat, north of Atar, which is where the iron ore is mined. The train really only exists to ship the ore from Zourat to the port in Nouadibouh, and most people ride for free by jumping in the freight cars. On the way inland, though, the freight cars are empty so you sit in the bottom of what is essentially a huge iron bath tub, can't see anything, and freeze your butt of once the sun goes down. And it's on overnight trip. So we opted to ride in the moldy, rotted out passneger car. It wasn't as bad as we'd been preparing ourselves for, but I think the only reason we managed to sleep as well as we did was because we were so exhausted.
We got off the train around 7 the next morning, and after 3 hours of off roading in the back of an overpacked pick up truck, we finally arrived back in Atar. So, door to door, it took us 3 days of pretty puch constant travel. Kind of intense. I spent a day or two in Atar, then came back to site four or five days ago. I'm still adjusting to the slower, more solitary way of life back in Ain. Once I start teaching again this weekend, I think it'll be easier.
Well, I hope that wasn't unbearably long. I tried to condense things, but it was a pretty eventful trip, and I had fun reminiscing. I'll post pictures as soon as I can!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
M.I.A.
So I know I've been awful about blogging lately. I haven't posted anything about work, etc in forever. Fact is, I've been super busy. I'm currently in Nouakchott on my way up to Morocco. Should be getting back to Mauritania in early April, so I'll be sure to fill you in on the past few weeks and the trip then!
Just wanted to let you all know I am safe and happy. Talk to you soon!
Just wanted to let you all know I am safe and happy. Talk to you soon!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Empowered Women Making it Big
Check out this documentary, airing live on March 5: A Powerful Noise. It follows the lives of three women living and overcoming in Mali, Bosnia, and Vietnam. Wish I was going to be around to see it, but I'll take comfort knowing that I'll be spending time with my own empowered women when it comes out...
Let me know if anyone decides to catch the show! I'd love to hear about it.
Let me know if anyone decides to catch the show! I'd love to hear about it.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
WAIST - The Return
WAIST - all I can say is wow. First and foremost, check out the pictures. Nothing that I write here will be able to convey the ridiculousness of this event. WAIST was talked up by all the second years beyond belief, and it completely defied expectation. More than 100 PC RIM voluteers met up in Rosso about ten days ago to head down to Dakar together. The bender began before we left and didn't stop until we got back to Mauritania. We left Rosso around 7 AM and stopped off at a little hole-in-the-wall little bar as a pit stop. We must have been quite a sight to the locals at this little road-side Senegalese town, piling off of two big chartered buses. It was after 5 PM when we finally pulled up to the Club Atlantique in Dakar, the site of the softball tournament and our future debauchery.
The Club is a little bit like a country club back in the States, but without a golf course. It has basketball/tennis courts, a volleyball court, a restaurant/bar, a little food stand (the Shady Shack, without which I would have lived on a completely liquid diet the three days we spent in Dakar), a pool, and a number of softball fields. One of them, the field where the final game was played, is directly on the cliffs above the ocean. Gorgeous.
PC RIM completely dominated WAIST, in every way possible. We rolled up at least twice as deep as any other group there. We were loud, racous, mohawked, and ready to win us a championship. Team C was the party team. We managed to win a game against Senegalese PCVs, but in general we concentrated on the music playlist and the next beer run. One of our PCVs walked around literally the entire three days carrying a giant old school boombox, which kept the party going.
Those of us on teams mostly stayed in the homes of American ex-pats living in Dakar. I had about ten PCVs staying with me at a house about five minutes from the Club. Every morning, we headed over to the Club, played our games, cheered for the other PC RIM teams, and then went out for the night. Our A team put on a fine show, winning the tournament with ease and grace, supported by the rest of our constant cheering. I'd say about half of us, including myself, lost our voices from all the screaming. I still don't have mine back; all the Mauritanians back at my site think I'm sick.
(To be fair, they also don't really get that I was just in another country. Life beyond Mauritania is very difficult for them to imagine. Actually, even some places in Mauritania are very difficult for them to imagine. Some volunteers have had to explain to their host families that the US is not, in fact, south of Senegal, but on a completely different continent. They don't get the continent thing either. Some Mauritanians couldn't even tell you what, let alone where, Africa is.)
The tournament lasted three days, after which I was so exhausted I had to peace out. Some people stayed to check out Dakar, and I do feel a little guilty that I didn't see more of the city than the house, the Club, and a random bar or two. Next time I will have to stick around and explore. Dakar is huge and definitely the most like an American city that you can find here in West Africa. That in itself was a little mind-blowing: highways and traffic lights and grocery stores and office buildings. Weird. Even weirder to think that I'm sitting in a mud brick one-room house as I write this.
So after Dakar, Zach and I and a couple of friends made our way north to St. Louis and chilled out on the beach for a day or two. We like to travel in increments, a few hours here and there, since its so uncomfortable/tiring/can sometimes take three times as long as it should. After a couple days of detoxing in St. Louis, we finally made it back to Mauritania, where we split up to head to our respective sites. Parting was a little sad, but luckily we will all be together again in a month or so.
I'm going to Morocco at the end of March, and after that all the PCVs in Mauritania are getting together in Atar (my regional capital) for a marathon and some environmental work. The environmental work is productive but also just a good reason to get everyone up here. We're so out of the way, it takes too long for most PCVs to make it up to this part of the country, so this is a good opportunity for them to check out how aweomse the Adrar is.
The Club is a little bit like a country club back in the States, but without a golf course. It has basketball/tennis courts, a volleyball court, a restaurant/bar, a little food stand (the Shady Shack, without which I would have lived on a completely liquid diet the three days we spent in Dakar), a pool, and a number of softball fields. One of them, the field where the final game was played, is directly on the cliffs above the ocean. Gorgeous.
PC RIM completely dominated WAIST, in every way possible. We rolled up at least twice as deep as any other group there. We were loud, racous, mohawked, and ready to win us a championship. Team C was the party team. We managed to win a game against Senegalese PCVs, but in general we concentrated on the music playlist and the next beer run. One of our PCVs walked around literally the entire three days carrying a giant old school boombox, which kept the party going.
Those of us on teams mostly stayed in the homes of American ex-pats living in Dakar. I had about ten PCVs staying with me at a house about five minutes from the Club. Every morning, we headed over to the Club, played our games, cheered for the other PC RIM teams, and then went out for the night. Our A team put on a fine show, winning the tournament with ease and grace, supported by the rest of our constant cheering. I'd say about half of us, including myself, lost our voices from all the screaming. I still don't have mine back; all the Mauritanians back at my site think I'm sick.
(To be fair, they also don't really get that I was just in another country. Life beyond Mauritania is very difficult for them to imagine. Actually, even some places in Mauritania are very difficult for them to imagine. Some volunteers have had to explain to their host families that the US is not, in fact, south of Senegal, but on a completely different continent. They don't get the continent thing either. Some Mauritanians couldn't even tell you what, let alone where, Africa is.)
The tournament lasted three days, after which I was so exhausted I had to peace out. Some people stayed to check out Dakar, and I do feel a little guilty that I didn't see more of the city than the house, the Club, and a random bar or two. Next time I will have to stick around and explore. Dakar is huge and definitely the most like an American city that you can find here in West Africa. That in itself was a little mind-blowing: highways and traffic lights and grocery stores and office buildings. Weird. Even weirder to think that I'm sitting in a mud brick one-room house as I write this.
So after Dakar, Zach and I and a couple of friends made our way north to St. Louis and chilled out on the beach for a day or two. We like to travel in increments, a few hours here and there, since its so uncomfortable/tiring/can sometimes take three times as long as it should. After a couple days of detoxing in St. Louis, we finally made it back to Mauritania, where we split up to head to our respective sites. Parting was a little sad, but luckily we will all be together again in a month or so.
I'm going to Morocco at the end of March, and after that all the PCVs in Mauritania are getting together in Atar (my regional capital) for a marathon and some environmental work. The environmental work is productive but also just a good reason to get everyone up here. We're so out of the way, it takes too long for most PCVs to make it up to this part of the country, so this is a good opportunity for them to check out how aweomse the Adrar is.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
WAIST - Where All Insane Scallywags Travel!
Ok, not really. WAIST stands for the West African Invitational Softball Tournament, and its where Ill be heading on the 8th! Ok, not really, I'm technically not leaving Mauritania until the 12th, but I'm leaving site the 8th. Chelsea and a couple of other friends are meeting me in Ain, and we're heading down to Akjoujt to celebrate yet another birthday as only Filipino miners can: with booze and karaoke!
I'll hang out there for a day or two, after which I'll meet up with some other friends (Pablo and Amanda, for those of you who are stalking other PC RIM blogs...ahem :) in Nouakchott. They're visiting their host families from training for a day and invited me to come along. They had really good experiences during training, so I'm gonna go see what all the bragging was about.
On the 11th, all the volunteers heading to WAIST (probably about 100 of us) are meeting up at the training center in Rosso. Weird. We have a safety and security session, and the next day they ship us all down to Dakar, Senegal on buses.
I have no idea what to expect out of this "softball tournament". I've heard stories about crazy partying, but its also apparently a family event. We formed three PC RIM teams: A team (Pirates), B team (I forget) and C team (Scallywags). I'm a scallywag (its a pirate themed event for PC RIM - arrrr)! Note: I actually had to try out to be on the C team. We pride ourselves on our dancing skills, our pantsless inning, and showing up the 12 year olds we inevitably have to play at least once (and who inevitably beat us). The A team is actually really good. They've won the tournament something like 4 out of the last 5 years. Its a point of pride for PC RIM. Actually, its THE point of pride for PC RIM. Apparently there's a decent amount of healthy competition between the regional PC programs over WAIST. People take it pretty seriously. But for those of us not on A team, its a chance to hit some balls, drink some beers, and check out Dakar.
In the meantime, my GMC will remain open for classes. Supposedly. We'll see how good my teachers are. If they manage to keep things up and running, I'll be amazed. Ultimately thats the goal, but considering that I just opened a week ago, I'm expecting some drag while I'm gone. Let you know how it goes!
I'll hang out there for a day or two, after which I'll meet up with some other friends (Pablo and Amanda, for those of you who are stalking other PC RIM blogs...ahem :) in Nouakchott. They're visiting their host families from training for a day and invited me to come along. They had really good experiences during training, so I'm gonna go see what all the bragging was about.
On the 11th, all the volunteers heading to WAIST (probably about 100 of us) are meeting up at the training center in Rosso. Weird. We have a safety and security session, and the next day they ship us all down to Dakar, Senegal on buses.
I have no idea what to expect out of this "softball tournament". I've heard stories about crazy partying, but its also apparently a family event. We formed three PC RIM teams: A team (Pirates), B team (I forget) and C team (Scallywags). I'm a scallywag (its a pirate themed event for PC RIM - arrrr)! Note: I actually had to try out to be on the C team. We pride ourselves on our dancing skills, our pantsless inning, and showing up the 12 year olds we inevitably have to play at least once (and who inevitably beat us). The A team is actually really good. They've won the tournament something like 4 out of the last 5 years. Its a point of pride for PC RIM. Actually, its THE point of pride for PC RIM. Apparently there's a decent amount of healthy competition between the regional PC programs over WAIST. People take it pretty seriously. But for those of us not on A team, its a chance to hit some balls, drink some beers, and check out Dakar.
In the meantime, my GMC will remain open for classes. Supposedly. We'll see how good my teachers are. If they manage to keep things up and running, I'll be amazed. Ultimately thats the goal, but considering that I just opened a week ago, I'm expecting some drag while I'm gone. Let you know how it goes!
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