Happy New Year Everyone! I hope you brought in the New Year with all the metaphysical fireworks it deserved! As most of you know, I just got back from a longish vacation, one which I’m glad I took but I sort of wish wasn’t so incredibly long. It may seem a bit bizarre, but after two weeks away from the dump that I call my home, I was actually homesick for a little fish and rice and the ability to eat with my hands! I especially missed my personal mosquito net, as the tents we slept in on the beach in St. Louis were anything but mosquito proof. But, I’m getting ahead of myself and so will start from the beginning.
After a little headache from my director, I was okayed to give my “compositions” (read: midterms) a week in advance so I could “pass the fete” with the rest of the Nazaranies (those who celebrate Christmas, or, more precisely “Christians”, though it’s also the word for “infidels”) on the 25th of December. My compositions of course didn’t go as smoothly as I had hoped, but I did get them finished with very little trouble from the Science teacher who likes to belittle me and ask for free things. (I had two professors acting as surveillance for me so I could give my tests in only two groups instead of five, one being the Science teacher. I made the rounds of the classes to make sure the tests had been distributed and that there were no questions. When I got to the class the Science teacher was supposed to be surveying, the tests HAD been distributed, kids were standing around with fist loads of them in fact, everyone talking and screaming like it was a regular play day, but no Science teacher was to be found. He eventually came in, said something about a student having passed the test out the window and running after him, and we seemed to get the class into order. I guess he felt it was important to run after the one kid so he wouldn’t be able to cheat, but in doing so left 60 others with ample opportunity to do so. People don’t always think first here.) In the 2 classes that I surveyed myself (120 students) I think I caught about 25 cheaters, but honestly, I think that one tenth isn’t that bad a percentage. I’m left to wonder about the others, for they most likely cheated without my knowing their systems. Here, cheating is expected, and almost encouraged. Friends want to help out friends, for one thing; for another, if you have the opportunity, you’re supposed to take it. My main problem was with cheat sheets, cleverly tucked into a cahier or placed on a lap. Having graded the tests though, most of those who cheated could probably have done better had they simply not bothered. I gave half credit (yes I’m a push over), and the test wasn’t that hard, but their cheat sheets were simply copies of the review day, and so all the answers were wrong anyway.
Enough of compos and on to the good stuff! So Thursday morning, Laura, Dara, Jae, and I set off with our packs and Nalgenes, looking conspicuously PeaceCorpsish, but not caring about our lack of assimilation, for we were on our way to the grand capital of Nouakchott, where you can eat Chinese food, pizza, hamburgers, and ice cream (preferably not all at once), sleep in a real bed with a real mattress, and take a HOT shower OR even soak in the tub. Oh yeah, and I mustn’t forget use toilet paper. I wasn’t actually trying to annoy my co-taxi riders, but I was overcome with the holiday spirit and filled the 7 hour drive with my own versions of first Christmas carols, then Vacation Bible School and Children’s Church songs. I don’t really know why they didn’t feel the urge to join in, except Jae, who did his best to keep up with me, even though he knew fewer words than I did. We bought out the 6 person Mercedes, so all four of us had our own seat, and at several points along the way I felt a tiny pang of sympathy for our White Moor driver, because I made it completely impossible for him to listen to his horrible Koranic wailing. The sympathy was each time quickly replaced by a grand feeling of revenge for all the times anyone was made to listen to that grating noise.
We made it to Nouakchott in 4 whole pieces, alhumdulillah, and quickly made our way to our respective hotels. I was lucky enough to stay in the Arc En Ciel, one of the nicest auberges used by Peace Corps. My former ideas of a nice, relaxing vacation was quickly turned into a mad rush to find out who was doing what, when, and where, and I ended up joining most volunteers for dinner at Pizza Linas, and then for dancing at VIP. I wore jeans and a sweatshirt! I felt almost like an American again.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and I spent most of it, as well as Christmas Day, at Obie’s, the Country Director. Obie lives in this magnificent house, complete with television and DVD player, three refrigerators, and a washer and dryer. For the most part I lazed in front of the TV, watching such high quality films as High Fidelity and this horrible 80s Winona Ryder dark comedy The Heathers. How did I ever miss that one growing up? On Christmas we had a Mexican feast and mimosas, as well as a white elephant gift exchange. At first I was disappointed that I picked a set of Mauritanian dice, but after seeing the other gifts, and then having my own gift stolen, I stole it back as soon as I could, leaving the socks and enormous pink underwear for someone else. It’s crazy how having something taken away makes you appreciate it all the more.
What else in Nouakchott? I did some mediocre work (wrote my quarterly report), and spent four hours online with Mom, Jason and Karissa, Jackie, Josiah, and Charlotte. By the way, thanks Mom for the webcam, and let me know when you’ll be available for another chat session.
I left for St. Louis with several other volunteers. We rented out a pickup truck, so we ended up with 6 in the extended cab (plus the driver) and I think 5 in the back. Thanks boys for being so brave. While we girls, and Todd, were warm, cozy, and a little squished, you in the back had to endure cold winds and the possibility of being dumped along the way. Will met us at the border in Rosso, where we waited for a good hour for our passports to go through. We then took the 10-minute ferry across the Senegal River, and this crazy Wolof lady made it clear that she greatly approved of Keith and Jared’s beards, but Jarad’s shaved face was “pas bon”. Pourquoi? No one knows.
On the other side of the river, things went less smoothly, and we waited more than 2 hours for our passports to go through. Apparently, upon reaching the other side, you’re supposed to run as quickly as you can in order to not bypass the policemen. But alas, we were not quick enough, and when the skinny yet forceful man demanded my passport, I didn’t hesitate. There’s just something about a little man in a green uniform that I find intimidating I guess.
Yes, on the ride down to St. Louis, I again attempted to entertain the bus-full of volunteers by singing, this time with the help of Keith and then Jarad. I don’t know why nobody else joined in. And I especially don’t understand how they could sleep through both my singing and the bumpy bus ride. Anyway, all I can say is God gave me my voice, and whether it’s good or not shouldn’t influence my decision to use it.
I’m going to cut short the description of St. Louis, partly because this entry has turned into a novelette, and partly because I spent most of the time doing the same thing: lazy on the beach or catching a taxi for food. St. Louis is beautiful; it reminds me of New Orleans with its French colonialist architecture. It is still Third World, no doubt, but the paved streets and French-owned boutiques with overpriced western clothing can make you forget that just over the bridge is a market not unlike that found in Kaedi, a smelling fish market and dock, and the ghetto, complete with children running everywhere, women washing clothes, and beat up old Peugots. The first thing I noticed, however, was that all the kids running around in St. Louis were wearing clothes. I saw only one naked child, and he was in the process of screaming his way through a bath. Perhaps it was the chill in the air, but there is still something different about Senegal.
Something else different about Senegal, or at least St. Louis, was their familiarity with tourists. It is impossible to spend more than 10 minutes in town without someone coming to offer you a “bon prix” on their crafts or “futball” jerseys. The necklaces and African masks are overwhelmingly tempting, but beware: they are used to tourists with money and they will work their hardest to squeeze out extra CFA from you!!! It was helpful being a “poor” volunteer; I literally didn’t have money to spend on souvenirs, and since I’ll most likely be returning next year, I spent most of my money on food. Mmmm, the Vietnamese restaurant was pricey but worth it. I ate there twice! By the end of the trip, I had exhausted my friends from whom I could buy CFA with my ougiyas and was so broke that I had to resort back to cheap street food, but even the omelet sandwiches tasted divine. Anything is better than fish and rice after you’ve had it for 6 months straight. But of course, I was more than ready to eat it again as soon as I arrived back in Kaedi. It’s sort of like a box of Cheerios, my favorite cereal. I’ll buy three boxes in a row but then by the end of the third I’m so glad to be done with them that I go for months without buying any kind of cereal in a yellow box. But then when I finally get them again, it tastes so good I can’t imagine life without them. Aw, I miss Cheerios.
Who would have guessed that Africa could be so freezing? The sun was setting and the ocean was ice cold, but Alicia and I didn’t let it bother us. Others told us we were crazy as we sauntered down the beach drenched with salt water after braving the waves, but I felt especially alive after the swim. I swam everyday after that, but nothing could have matched the feelings of that first one with Alicia. Everyone was beat from the drive and reluctant to try the waters, but Alicia and I couldn’t be contained. We didn’t even have colds the next day.
During our stay, we rented out one hotel room, but they set up two tents on the beach with matelas for sleeping. The blanket supply was a little sparse, and some ended up huddling under table cloths, but I was quick enough to snag a real blanket. Thank goodness for doxycycline; the mosquitoes were undeterred from the tents and must have actually found it quite nice in there, as it is especially easy to feast on the flesh of 40 dog-tired human beings. I ended up with a face and two feet full of bites, but I’ve gotten into the habit of taking my meds so I should have no problem with malaria, inshalla.
I know this doesn’t cover everything, but that would be impossible! I’ll let you know this: I packed four books for my long, lazy vacation. After all, I usually read about 2 books a week, and my main goal for my trip was relaxation. I didn’t even OPEN a book except for once, and I read only 15 pages before deciding to go jump in the water again. I wasn’t actually pulled from place to place by my traveling companions, but because there were so many of us, and because there was so much more to do than there ever is or will be in Kaedi, I was more than ready to come home to Kaedi, where even though I still had 300 exams to grade, I knew I’d be able to get some rest!
But, alas, the trip back was not as easy as the trip there! We stayed an extra day, only to wake up to the news that all the taxi drivers in Senegal were on strike. Everywhere we went, people told us there was no chance of getting a car in Senegal. However, we were once again conspicuous Peace Corps volunteers with our packs and our Nalgenes, and we decided we’d risk it. Andi had a mosquito net, and we all were ready to hitch until we couldn’t hitch anymore. It actually started sounding more and more exciting and adventurous the more we heard that there would be no cars. “We’ll just walk until someone picks us up. We’ll make it to some village and be invited in for dinner, or we can sleep on the road.” Doesn’t that sound bold? Daring? Hard core Peace Corps? But, of course, everyone knew we were willing to pay top dollar to make it back and we ended up paying three times the normal rate to ride to the border.
Jae made up for our lack of audacity by chatting up a French expat from Nouakchott. Andi, Alicia, and I ended up riding with Marc, Natasha, and their daughter Jasmine to Nouakchott, and we were witnesses to Jasmine’s first attempt to read! Marc teaches at the University but had the car of someone from the French Embassy, so the gendarmerie and police station stops went much more smoothly than his actual driving. It felt odd but necessary to wear a seat belt as we dodged potholes and camels at breakneck speed. Thank you Marc!!!
The rest of the trip went smoothly. We three girls were nearly silent with fatigue. I ended up traveling all the way to Kaedi, making the trip in only 17 hours. I had to share the front seat of a Mercedes with a man at one point, but he was a gentleman and bought me meshoui beforehand! I hate riding in the front seat, and try to avoid it all cost. Besides usually having to share it with someone, you get a front seat view of all the many donkeys, goats, and taxis that you are likely to hit, and every time the driver passes while going uphill, I imagine myself being thrown from the car as we plow into a camion. Of course, it’s not happened yet, and riding in the back seat is probably no safer than the front, but it SEEMS safer if you can’t see where you’re going.
I think Kaedi missed me as much as I missed it. Since I’ve been back, I’ve seen all three of my host families, and my students seemed overjoyed to see me yesterday. Many were less joyful after seeing their grades, but for the most part, I think they too are ready to get back into their routine. It’s more than frustrating to hear the professors say “there are no students so we won’t have school,” just after having heard a student say, “yes, I went to school today but there were no teachers”. It’s the same old story.
Okay, signing out for now. I love and miss you all. Please keep sending me letters! I appreciate them more than I can say.
Till next time,
Jenny
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