The Bird Has Flown

Hello all you happy people. Since you last heard from me, I've been living in the glorious Midwest, dragging my GPA up to a normal-school-acceptable level, making periodic sanity trips to Chicago, and spending the holidays at home for once.

Much to the relief of my mother, I've cleared out again, this time to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and I'll be writing to you from Oahu, Hawai'i for the next two years. I'm attending Hawai'i Pacific University, majoring in Diplomacy and Military Studies. Which will ideally lead to my working internationally for the government again, in a more officially ambassadorial capacity. We'll see. But in the mean time, I'm planning on posting more updates as to my various activities.

As you may have seen on my Facebook page, I recently hiked to the top of the Diamond Head Crater:

My legs were very unused to much walking and somewhat rubbery on the last few hundred stairs. Alas, in the suburbs, everything is just slightly too far away from everything else to walk. Okay, okay... I had an office job and sat around on my butt for a year. I'll admit to not going far out of the way to make time for exercise if you will. Luckily for my health, fitness is sort of a byproduct of living on a hilly, beach-filled island. And I intend to learn how to surf and SCUBA dive. There's also a hiking club at HPU and I'm taking tennis this semester. Shape, I shall uncover thee!

Classes started today! I'm taking Oceanography, War & Civilization, Writing 102, World History to 1500, Global Economics, and Tennis. Wish me luck and love. More soon...

An Interview For A Student

1. Why did you pick Africa?

In the Peace Corps, the head office offers Invitees (people who have applied and been accepted to service in the Peace Corps) a position in a country. The first offer I received was in Mauritania, West Africa, as an Agroforestry Agent. I accepted, but at the time I knew very little about Africa in general. This ignorance was one of the reasons I accepted the placement. I wanted to learn about life in Africa, first-hand.

2. Would you like to go back?

Absolutely. I'm already looking for ways to get back there. I'm even thinking of applying for a short-term (4-6 week) consultancy in Mauritania with Grandmother Project surveying the cultural reality of being female in a rural village. I have a family in a village in Mauritania and I would love to see them again. They took me in while I was working there with the Peace Corps and I am considered a daughter. I also have many friends, one of whom I called a few weeks ago. Everyone wants to know when I'm coming back!

3. What did you do there?

I worked with the village women's co-operative, a group of local women who work together to better the nutrition of their families through gardening and other means. I spent time in the garden and with the villagers, helping develop knowledge and use of new gardening techniques and technologies.

I designed and taught music and art classes to local young girls on the weekend. We learned about perspective, group co-operation, harmony, and how to be creative, among other things. This was one of my most rewarding projects.

4. What is different in Africa from the United States?

Not all of Mauritania is rural and the capital city has the same amenities you would find in the rest of the world, but I lived on the edge of civilization, between the Senegal River and the brutal Sahara. In my village there was no electricity and no running water. We used fires and flashlights with batteries brought from the city for light and got our water from wells. Every morning and every evening the village women are crowded around the wells, throwing bucket after bucket down into the well and pulling them out by hand. This is how they get water for making food, for bathing, for drinking and for cleaning. It is a lot of work, and very time-consuming.

Also Mauritanians are far more social and hospitable than Americans. Every person that comes to a house is made welcome and comfortable. A guest can expect to be greeted profusely and enthusiastically. A mat is laid out for guests to sit, recline, or lie on, often with many pillows for their comfort. A tea ceremony is common, with three rounds of mint tea (the first glass is like life, bitter; the second is like love, sweet, and the third is like death, gentle). Guests will often be invited to stay to eat, or a special snack will be provided. If it is late, guests will be invited to spend the night. Long-term visits by guests are also not uncommon. There is very little privacy and next-to-no alone time. Mauritanians are always together and expect others to want the same.

Also, Mauritania is an Islamic Republic. In French, one of Mauritania's official languages, it is called the Islamique Republique de Mauritanie. This means that most of its population are practicing Muslims. Every city, town, and village has a mosque. In fact, the cities are crowded with them. The imam (the head of the mosque) calls the people to prayer over a loudspeaker 5 times a day (at dawn, noon, the middle of the afternoon, just after sunset, and at nightfall about two hours after sunset). People all over the country stop what they are doing, wash their face, hands, and feet, and pray on special prayer mats. Friday is a special holy day, and throughout the year several festivals are held, including Ramadan, which is a month of fasting followed by a big celebration of Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac. Everyone buys special outfits for the occasion and cooks a lot of food. It is a big party.

5. Does Africa have different laws than the United States?

Mauritania is, legislatively speaking, a democracy. In practice, however, Mauritania is still learning what it means to be democratic. While I was there, the military, headed by Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, decided they were unhappy with the job that the elected president was doing. Rather than go through the legal process of impeaching him, they threw a coup d'état and put the president under house arrest. Aziz was later elected as Mauritanian's new president.

6. What jobs do they have in Africa?

In my village, most of the men are either fishermen, shepherds, or farmers. There is also a mayor, a schoolteacher, an imam, a baker, and a couple tailors. The women manage the household, raise the children, work in the garden and the fields, prepare the food, do the laundry, fetch the water, and take care of all guests.

7. Which place do you like better the United States or Africa?

I like both places, but the United States is my home. I learned many things in Mauritania, but I wouldn't want to live my whole life there, especially as a woman. Women do not have as many rights or options, legally or socially. There are many other problems making life there difficult: poor education, malnutrition, and lack of sanitation (or sanitation systems for trash collection, sewage and floodwater, pollution management, etc) are only some of the major ones. In the United States, there are far more opportunities and freedoms than almost anywhere else.

I love Mauritania and I am very grateful to my host family and to the Peace Corps for the experience.

Out of Africa

Summarizing the past few months:

Peace Corps Mauritania was temporarily closed due to a final build-up of safety issues. These include earlier events such as the coup d'etat in August of 2008 and denying of visas to Americans beginning in 2009, and more recent events such as the fatal shooting of an American teacher in the capital during a kidnapping attempt (which Al Qaeda claimed responsibility for) and a suicide bomber targeting Westerners who killed only himself. This is all extremely unfortunate for the average citizen of Mauritania, most of whom are peaceful and very hospitable.

Peace Corps Volunteers, including myself, were offered interrupted service or to extend their service in other countries. I chose to take interrupted service and have enrolled for the fall semester at a local college near my hometown outside of Chicago, IL. I am pursuing studies in International Relations and hope to transfer to a 4-year school next fall.

My African experience taught me a great deal about myself, but it also opened my eyes to the United States and our relationship to the international community, a relationship that is becoming increasingly important as nations become less isolated. What we do, what other nations do--each affects the other in countless ways. Our economies, our environments, our freedoms or lack thereof are tied together. It is for this reason that I am striving to become involved in diplomatic relations. We must work together or we will fall together in this coming century. Reach past fear and toward understanding.

The Hot Season, the Long View

Yup, I'm still out here, sweating my way through the hot season. I'm dreaming of the rainy season, which could show up in as little as a month. It will be just as hot. With the humidity it will actually feel even hotter. However, as a native Chicagoan I am far more used to wet heat than this dry and ache-y misery that is the hot season in Mauritania. Also, rain will bring with it some greenery. I miss a great many things about America but what I miss most is the natural landscape. Granted, with the nasty cheap "development" that capitalists were so obsessed with during much of my childhood, natural landscape is in ever shorter supply. Mauritania has the same problem, as does much of the modern world, and it springs from taking a tragically short view.

It's easy to understand why people do. We have, after all, tragically short lives. However, our impact does not need to be short or tragic. To walk, even to stumble and crawl, toward a goal larger than our own lives makes us grand, makes our impact far-reaching.

That certainly isn't an easy thing, and I don't say it lightly. The worst ignorance in my own life is of perspective and constancy. I know that I would rather come to the end of my days having lived broadly and deliberately. It is my greatest fear that I won't do so. And yet in full spite of my fear and my hope, I often find myself bobbing along with a current I didn't choose intelligently and trying not to realize it.

Perspective is a tense muscle, constancy is a routine to stretch it. But ignorance is tricky and persistent. I forget lessons I don't use, even hard-won lessons I treasure in my mind, heart, body, and soul. I am learning great things here in Mauritania. And as much as I want to leave and go back to the easy life that I knew in America, I know I must stay. I know that what is best for me is to last, to stretch, to reach, and perhaps at the end find that I am healthier, more flexible and connected than I was, moving toward a grand pursuit I chose in awareness and joy.

S-Cay is a can kid

Can kids are what we call the little boys that beg with big old tomato paste cans.  However it isn't begging in the American tradition.  They are begging to pay an imam for the cost of their Islamic education, and actually it is part of the religion to give money to those children.  I, however, am not a Muslim and have no desire to contribute monetarily to the propagation of Islam.  This is unfortunately a concept too complicated to explain to swarming children in a market situation.

Anyway, I am calling myself a can kid because I am begging for food and letters to support my cross-cultural education.  :)  Aren't I sneaky?

To those who are curious and kind, you can always send me:

*Nuts—my favorites are walnuts, pecans, almonds, and honey roasted peanuts, but I'm always interested in broadening my horizons

*Dried fruit—I don't really care for dried pineapples or bananas, but I LOVE dried cherries, cranberries, Trader Joe's berry medley, golden raisins, peaches, apricots, and mangoes

*Granola bars—in my opinion, Nature Valley makes the best ones.  Although Nutrigrain and Quaker Oats are tasty too.

*Gum/mints—any kind, as long as it's wrapped in some sort of foil or paper and not plastic, which is impossible to get rid of here and blows about the countryside.

*Pens—let me lay all suspicions to rest: I love to write.  I write every day.  I keep a diary and several journals of varying types, as well as the numerous letters I send.  As a lady particular about her inks, I am desperate in this country that is completely sans decent pens.  They all bleed and blob and are depressing to write with.  I like rollerball pens that don't bleed through a page best.

*Lotion—this may seem vain but in fact it is a health issue.  My skin is my first line of defense against infection, and in a dry climate like this one, especially now in the hot season, it needs daily care.  Local products are not trustworthy (these are people that put antifreeze in toothpaste).

*Cereal—any flavored Cheerios or Quaker Toasted Oat Squares.  Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Kix, Peanut Butter Captain Crunch.  I am drooling just listing these.

*Chips and Chex Mix

*Candy—One cannot go wrong with M&Ms.  There is NO chocolate here and the candy shell keeps it from melting too much.  And I would eat them anyway.  Peanut, dark, almond, and peanut butter are my favorites.  Plus Skittles and Starbursts.

*Bisquick (the pancake mix)

*Yoga Journal (magazine)

*Emergen-C—a fizzy dissolvable vitamin supplement that former college students might remember.  I use it on days that I don't get enough vitamins/minerals.  Which is oftener than I would like.  Hence the asking.

As ever, all my love for being who you are, and all my thanks for remembering me.

Sore Endurance

Well, I spent a couple days in the Western World (Dakar, Senegal has become America for me) and remembered many things I had forgotten.  Some problems that are still waiting for me back in the States, and others that now confuse me with their irrelevance.  Just the regular growth pains, I suppose.  But I do wonder what will happen to me when I return.  Will I be difficult to live with?  What will I have to deal with as far as the economy and finding employment?

I've been thinking lately about what sort of life I want to have.  These things, after all, for most people, do not just happen, no matter what fairy tale endings Sleeping Beauty and Snow White get.  Between frustrations with the dense government bureaucracy I am forced to interact with and the purely physical difficulty of surviving in a malnourished country, I want to plan and act for my future, so that I am not planned for or acted on.

Other than that, I am living on letters and packages from friends and family, my lifeline that lets me know I am not forgotten and I am not unloved.  I am starting to work on a project proposal, what will be the biggest work of my service (at least according to some standards).  When it's been approved by my boss and my boss' boss, I'll let you know.  Until then I'm going to be cagey and secretive.  :)

I'm doing well.  Life is hard, but every day I try to manage it better.  It helps to know you still care.  I may be alone in my village, but I am not alone in this world.  I love you.

My So-Called Life, or Catering to Public Demands for Information, Pt. 1

The house where I live is one of the newer, nicer, and larger homes in my village, and belongs to my host father, who is the village chief.  Whereas American houses are analogous to a human body with its layers of skeleton, musculature, nerves, circulatory and other systems, etc., Mauritanian houses are simpler in structure and form.  Rooms are not defined by their fixtures.  There are rarely any fixtures at all.  No indoor plumbing, no gas line, no electricity, no insulation.  Just cement bricks and mortar, possibly smoothed over and painted, possibly not.

If I were to define the rooms of my house by their current use, I would say there are four bedrooms, a salon (living/sleeping room), and a storage room, all branching off a large foyer/hallway.  The roof is flat, like most roofs in Mauritania, and accessible by stairs.  In hot weather we use it as a sleeping area.

My room has a desk, where I study and research, write letters, and organize my time.  I don't have a chair as of yet (they cost 2000 UM and I am not made of money!), so I sit on a bucket that isn't quite tall enough and reminisce about being a kid at the adults' table.  A plastic woven mat mostly covers the cement floor and the walls are scattered with pictures and cards that I have received.  There is also a map of the world and of Mauritania, and occasionally I occupy myself by staring at them and making travel plans.

I have two sleeping mats, one almost tall enough to qualify for a backless couch (I do use it for couch-esque lounging).  And I have a trunk containing my clothes and various and sundry items.  I'd like to have a bookshelf made because a great many of my possessions are, by necessity, simply piled on the floor (providing a habitat and hiding place for local wildlife).  That will have to wait as well, as a bookshelf = 8000 UM.

During the day in the "cold" season, the temperature varies around 70-85 degrees Fahrenheit and the natives run around comically in winter jackets.  Tragically this extremely pleasant season is coming to a close and my body is remembering what it is to be constantly sweaty.

On an average day, I get up with the heat, so the time varies from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m., depending on the season.  I have what I call my "Inter-Continental breakfast"—a protein bar or oatmeal or a handful of nuts and a packet of Emergen-C vitamin supplement.  My host family also brings me a glass of coffee (they serve it with so much milk and sugar I can basically feel my teeth rotting in my head) and a chunk of local bread, which is what they have for breakfast.

I typically use the morning for studying languages (Pulaar and French) or attempting to come up with elegant solutions to inelegant problems related to local development.  Occasionally I also write letters, have meetings with persons of note, or survey average villagers to gather data.  Lunch is served around 2 p.m. and I eat 1-2 fish over a bed of rice and some veggies with 5-7 other women.  The lunching process includes tea, which takes a minimum of 30 minutes for all three rounds and can be closer to two hours.

Around 4 p.m. when it is no longer appallingly sunny I go to the fields or to the women's cooperative garden, and am there until the sun starts to set, at which point I run back to clean off some of the grime and sweat before the light dies completely and I can no longer see to do anything.  On the weekends I teach classes to kids at this time (during the weekdays they have school).

8 p.m., or thereabouts, is when we have dinner, which is almost invariably a dish called hako.  Hako is literally is the cut and dried bean leaves that are cooked into the dish, along with crushed melon seeds and beans, sometimes with a bit of fish or goat.  I love hako.  It's the most protein I get all day and it reminds me a little of ground beef in taste and texture.  They serve it over couscous.  We also have lacciri kosam (couscous in milk) after everyone has eaten their fill of hako.  I love this dish as well.  Dinner is definitely my favorite meal.

Some people drink tea after, but I find it hard to sleep if I put caffeine in my system.  I usually am in bed by 9 or at the latest 10.  There isn't much going on after sunset, as most peeople do not have electricity.  So that's a typical day-in-the-life.  More to come on my host family and my actual work.  Write me, call me, love me!

New Year Notes

"The emotions, the plans, the feelings, the objectives I had seen swirled like floodwater through the city of facts I was slowly erecting on the grave of my other self, and though an act is an act, in the best Steinian tradition, each wave of interpretation that broke upon me shifted the position of one or more things I had thought safely anchored, and by this brought about an alteration of the whole, to the extent that all of life seemed almost a shifting interplay of shadow about some never to be attained truth.  Still, I could not deny that I knew more now than I had several years earlier, that I was closer to the heart of matters than I had been before, that the entire action in which I had been caught up seemed to be sweeping toward some final resolution.  And what did I want?  A chance to find out what was right and a chance to act on it?  I laughed.  Who is ever granted the first, let alone the second of these?  A workable approximation of the truth, then.  That would be enough..."

The above is taken from a novel by Roger Zelazny, and sort of introduces the train of my thoughts for this new year, 2009.  The passage of clock time is often incomprehensible to me, but reflection is a regular pastime and not out of the way of my everyday activities.  So I've been in Mauritania over half a year.  What's changed?  What hasn't?

I am one of the things that has changed.  I'm not sure Africa is any different for my presence, thus far anyway.  But my experience has affected me.  There are shallow changes: I love Coca Cola and straight shots of espresso.  Slightly deeper changes: a different regard for hygiene (let's just say that there are levels) and a closer relationship with my digestive system (I call it an enemy closer than a brother, in kinder moods I refer to it as a treacherous ally).  And my French is now sufficient to converse, and to deal with service personnel and people harassing me.  Although I wouldn't say I was to the point of being able to particularly recommend myself to strangers.

It has been over half a year since I've seen my family, slept in a bed, had a hot shower, and been really clean (although I got to do the last three while I was in Nouakchott for vacation and work).  A little story for you: while I was there, I went to a real grocery store.  I can't really describe how that felt, although I can say it probably isn't what you'd imagine.  I could barely stand to be there.  There were too many items arranged in tidy rows, the place was too clean and well lit.  I felt an urge toward a visceral reaction, perhaps a scream, perhaps even throwing up.  

Moments of that sort cause me to realize I hardly know myself anymore.  I hope my readers understand this is not a negative thing.  Re-read the quote at the start.  Yes, I feel unmoored from who I was, but who I am and who I am becoming are closer to the truth.  A "workable approximation of the truth", anyway.  :)

Living in a village where everyone is preoccupied with day-to-day survival and trying to facilitate development there is a lot like repeatedly smacking one's head against a cement brick wall.  Fun, no.  Pleasant?  Not often.  Challenging, yes.  Am I learning anything out here?  Absolutely.  I wonder where this next year will take me.  Keep writing and sending love.  I've got some really amazing projects in the works.  I'll write some of it up next time I'm in town.  All my love!

Feminism and Dreams of Food, Actualized by Yours Truly. Accept No Substitutions.

Well.  We do celebrate American holidays here.  And although they don't compare to being with friends and family, they are something of a trip.  For Thanksgiving we did our best with ingredients sent from home (thanks to those families that sent pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce in cans) and drank until we forgot what a terrible terrible country this is.  (conservative elements who read this blog: you will forget I mentioned alcohol!)

I didn't cook for Thanksgiving, but since then I have started making, if I do say so myself, delicious meals: chilis & soups & sauces & peanut pad thai & cakes & cookies all from scratch.  Everyone raves.  But it is hard to get certain things here.  Certain spices.  We can get, say, sugar and salt and flour, although (and this is extremely gross) you have to sift out nasty little brown bugs and squiggly larvae.  But everything else needs sent from home.  So you can certainly send me spices.  We are out of nutmeg in the region house.  I made, from my own recipe, a carrot-and-squash soup and a spice cake and used the last of that.  Plus chicken bouillon and chili mixes and brown sugar and baking powder/soda.  Dessert and soup and spice mixes in general are really awesome.  If someone would send me canned cherries I could make a really bitchin' pie.  Gorgol thanks you in advance.

Site is...fine.  But I will say that it has gotten harder, and particularly wearing as a woman alone in a village.  The culture is oppressive to me, and I think to any American-educated adult female.  Living here has made me more aware of women's rights violations.  Even more than that, I have never had more respect for the women who demanded equality (and continue to demand it) in America.  I never before realized what enormous bravery is required to walk against the tide of culture.  I can't imagine it happening here in my lifetime, not with women's education (and education in general) being what it is.  But for those who think there isn't any truly good work left to be done in the world, look to Mauritania.  Peace out, y'all.  Send me letters and boxes!  LOVVVVVVE!

Some Pictures. Which took forever to load.

Here you see me in my current and actual room, sporting henna and a new wutte for Juulde Koorka.  I wasn't sure when the timer was going off...can you tell?

This is one of my (bratty little) CBT site host brothers.  But I haven't seen him in two months, so I've forgotten his brattiness and am only able to remember the cuteness...

This is the boutique that my CBT host family ran.  It's just in front of the house.  Check out the selection!  Actually, the one boutique in my current site has even less.

This is my room back at CBT.  I much prefer my setup now.

Home sweet CBT home.

I tried uploading more, but the Internet is playing the game Merry Havoc.  So we will have to be content with this little taste of Mauritania in pictures.  I really miss you people.  Way too much.