Sunday, December 21, 2008

Exams and Vacation

Since my last post, two very different but I'd say equally amusing things have happened: I gave my end-of-trimester exams and I traveled out of Selibaby for the first time. Neither of those sounds particularly interesting now, but read on!

I gave each exams during the class period last week, which means I could write a two hour exam. Well, kind of. I had to figure in the time it takes for me to write the exam on the board and for them to copy it down (again, no printers or photocopiers). The tricky part is that some of my kids can hardly write, and take a really long time to painstakingly copy each word. I also have some kids who finished the whole exam in 20 minutes, but there's no way I could make it take longer because it doesn't seem fair for some not to finish just because they couldn't write it down in time. So that was challenge #1.

Challenge #2 is the insane amount of cheating that takes place in Mauritanian classrooms. Some teachers out there must be saying, "well, sure, there's cheating everywhere!" but let me tell you, I have never seen anything like this before. And the best (or worst?) part about it is that they are so, so bad at cheating. It didn't even bother me that much because it was way too funny. They would do things like look up at me, open a book next to them, look back at me and write something down. I caught one girl with 3 cheat sheets in her lap, and she said she hadn't looked at them. Yeah, OK. One boy handed in his text with the cheat sheet still in it. Nice one. The school policy with cheating is to take the student's paper away and let them start again (if there's any time left--I caught some with about 10 minutes to go. Bummer).

I caught about 15-20 kids cheating in some way in my first class, and only about 5-7 total in my other two (my first class is always more trouble, no idea why). I'd say overall I did a good job catching them--I spent the whole two hours wandering the room watching them, and let's face it, they make it pretty easy to catch them--but there are a lot of obstacles to doing so. The desks they write on are in really bad shape, so they write with their paper on top of their little copybooks. I tried to say they couldn't, but it makes it really hard to write. I checked the copybooks as best I could and took anything with English away, but it's easy to miss something. The other big problem has to do with not letting them whisper to each other. Normally, when a kid's mouth is moving and noise is coming out during a test, you can be pretty sure that they're either cheating or cursing your soul for giving them an exam in the first place. But many of my students are barely literate, and what do beginning readers do when they read and write? They mouth or whisper the words to themselves. I figured out pretty quickly who was doing that versus talking to their buddy, but it's impossible to tell them to stop because it's the only way they can get the test done, which just made my job harder.

So that was last Tuesday and Thursday, and after my last exam I told the director I would hand in my grades when I got back (from what I've looked at so far, they range from 1/20 to 19.5/20) and left Friday morning for 3 weeks of vacation. This is the first time I've left site since getting to Selibaby at the end of August. Now, how exactly does one get out of Selibaby? Good question. You take a taxi brusse ("bush taxi"), which in my case is a pick-up truck (only bigger cars can really get in and out of Selibaby). And I’m not talking the big fancy man-trucks they advertise on TV during the Superbowl, I’m talking your run of the mill, small truck. First, they pile it high with stuff so that the truck bed is filled to the brim or over. Then, they tie a net over that. Then, we climb on. Some people pay double to actually sit in the car, but not PCVs. So I climb on the truck with 6 men and 1 other woman, and the driver was really nice and made sure I got a “good spot.” This means my back was up against the car part of the truck and my knees were bent to my chest. The only bad part was that I had nothing to hold on to. It’s kind of like a roller coaster in that you always feel like you’re going to fall off even though you aren’t. So I tucked one hand under my legs and held the rope under me. And the whole time, I’m wearing a skirt. Fun.

I got to Mbout without any major problems, so it only took about 3 hours. I spent 2 nights at John’s house and finally got to see where he lives. Then this morning we waited for an hour or two for a car to Kaedi, John’s regional capital. This time there were up to 11 adults, 1 child and 2 babies on the back, more or less as people got off or on in the towns we passed. I got my back against the car again, but this time was on the edge because one of the two giant Moor women refused to move out of the middle and there was another one between her and me. Swell. John was next to me with his feet hanging over the edge, but when I tried to sit like that (which would have been more comfortable), one of the men told me I couldn’t. So it was knees to chest again for the first 2 hours, by which point the large Moor woman next to me was sitting on me. Seriously. So when we stopped, I swung my legs over the side (the man was gone). It was better except that the large Moor woman decided to lean on me, which nearly pushed me out of the truck because she was about 3 times my size. Good thing I get an upper body workout carrying my host sibling around or I wouldn’t have been able to hold on!

So about 15 minutes outside of Kaedi, we get a flat tire. They change it, and when they’re done my seat (which used to be on top of a bag) had turned into a rice sack, which is pretty slippery. I climb on, and only the upper half of my thighs are actually on the car. John put his arm in front of me to brace me from the large Moor woman, and we rode the rest of the way. I was really glad to get off that truck!

I’ll be here in Kaedi for a day, then we head to Aleg—that whole trip is on paved road, unlike the entire trip getting here, so I’m excited. If I don’t post before then, I hope everyone has a great holiday! And for those of you up north until a ton of snow, just remember that I’ll be spending New Year’s on a beach in Senegal. Ha, finally you’re all jealous of where I am!! :)

PS Laura, Taco (really spelled Tako) is a common Soninke name for women and guy is her father's name, often given as a middle name. And the white kitten has a body, or did when I left Selibaby! We have 5 new puppies now, so who knows what'll happen while we're gone...

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Thanksgiving pictures

Hi all/anyone who's reading this!

Just a quick note to share the links to my Thanksgiving/Tabaski pictures. I'll write a longer post later in the week.

Thanksgiving 1

Thanksgiving 2

Tabaski

Enjoy!

Sunday, November 23, 2008

early giving of thanks

So I know it's not Thanksgiving quite yet, but since I have access to the computer all the time I figured I should let the brusse volunteers and out of towners have it this week--we're getting a bunch of visitors tomorrow, which I'm excited about :) But while I have a chance, I want to take a very cheesy moment to write about what I'm thankful for.

As cliche as it sounds, being here makes me realize how lucky I really am. Not just for everything I have in the US--I'm not sure I can even begin to be thankful enough for that--but for the opportunity I have here. I get to live here in this amazing albeit difficult country, learn new languages, be a part of a kind and welcoming family, try things I never would have before (goat for example), and just have this life changing adventure all the while knowing that I have a safe, comfortable life waiting for me at home. Sure there are risks being here; at any moment I could get kicked by a donkey or run off the road by a brakeless taxi or eaten alive by ants and/or my students. But the US government gives me malaria pills and everything else I need to take care of myself (the PCMO will even send you lotion of you ask for it). I get paid enough money to pay rent and have the occasional fanta. I've already had more education and seen more of the world than the vast majority of Mauritanians ever will. When I want peanut butter or People magazine or candy, my wonderful moms send it to me (even stuff they NEVER would have let me have as a kid, like cheese in a can). And after 2 years, I'll return to a comfortable life. Of course I'll have to work hard, but we really do live in a country of possibilities. Only about 10% of students here pass the Bac (the end of high school exam you need to pass to go to college), which means that only that 10% even have a chance at higher education. Had I been born here, I'd most likely be barefoot and pregnant (literally) with kids tied to my back, spending all day cooking and cleaning. My mom Judy wrote in a letter once that as stupid as the American Dream sounds, parts of it really are true. I've been thinking a lot lately about that, and even though not everyone who works hard gets ahead in life and is able to better themselves and create a better future for their children, it's a lot easier than it is here. So although I often feel guilty about all this, today I want to express my utmost gratitude for being able to experience life here and still have so much privilege waiting for me.

I hope everyone back at home as a wonderful Thanksgiving. We're preparing a delicious feast here, and thanks to our spectacular families we will even be able to make pumpkin pie. And for the sake of Nelson/Posner family tradition, I also want to say that I'm thankful for the person who canned the pumpkin mix and who labeled the can and who shipped it to the supermarket and who put in on a shelf and the postal workers who got it here to us in Mauritania:)

Saturday, November 8, 2008

New pictures

Hi all,

Not much new to report, but I put some new pictures up. I'm including a link that works for the other ones too (sorry about that!)

Selibaby

Selibaby 2

Monday, November 3, 2008

First week

After a week of teaching, all I can really say is wow. No, that’s not true, I actually have a lot to say (be warned), but wow is the overwhelming feeling.

I started teaching last Tuesday. I got up early, aiming to leave my house around 7:20 to get to school around 7:30. I still had to check in with the director about class lists and stuff, find the classroom and start teaching at 8. By 7:30, my family hadn’t finished making coffee yet. I wasn’t surprised, but I wanted to set the precedent that I had to get to school on time even if my siblings didn’t leave the house until 8:10. At 7:35, I told them I was leaving. My father said, “wait for coffee, it’s only 7:35 and you don’t teach until 8!” He kind of chuckled at crazy toubab Hawa trying to leave so early. I said I really had to go, so they thrust a super hot cup of coffee and a piece of bread into my hand. I scorched myself for a minute, then took my bread with me and headed out. I got to school around 7:50 and was the only teacher there. I should really listen to my host father more. I found the director in his office, and he chatted with me a little until I asked if I should start teaching that day. He said sure, and called one of the kids in to ring the bell (or rather, metal inside of an old tire that you bang with a stick) to let the kids know they could come in. Students trickled in and headed to their classrooms, and the director showed me mine. Class lists weren’t ready yet because students are still signing up. Go figure.

So I walk into my first classroom (the kids stay put and teachers move), which, like the rest, is a room with a crumbling blackboard and desks, the bench kind that sit 2-4 kids. Some of the ceilings are falling in, some walls are being eaten by ants and termites. None have electricity, so the only light comes through the door (which blows open and shut) and creating a huge glare problem. Some rooms have open windows (meaning nothing in them at all, no way to close them) and some are boarded shut. The kids are remarkable not distracted by all of this. At one point, a giant bee was flying all around the room and not one kid looked up at it. If a bee came in the room during one of my classes in college, the professor lost all attention because we all stared at the bee. They’re just used to it I guess.

This isn’t to say that there are not other problems. When the word spreads that classes are actually happening, I will have 50-60 students per class. They range in ages, from 12-17, and abilities. They have no books, so they have to copy everything off the blackboard (again, glare and cracks makes this a challenge). Some can barely write and spend the whole class painstakingly forming each letter while others finish in minutes, have me check what they wrote and then have to sit there. It’s hard to figure out what to do with them because it’s not like I can give them extra work—where would I write it? I have no photocopier or printer, so literally everything (including tests) has to go on the board. I’m going to try to figure out something to keep them busy as the year goes on, but for now I’m trying to get a general feel for their pace and what they can handle in one class.

This brings me to another point—I have each class once a week for a two-hour block. It’s hard to use the time well without overwhelming them! I start at 8, teach until 10, then go right next door and do the same thing until 12. It’s pretty tiring! I stand the whole time, either in the front or circulating to make sure they copy, and it’s not an environment that’s conducive to group work or conversation. I try to get them talking as much as possible, but often it’s just repeating me or reading a dialogue, so I talk a lot.

Any teachers reading this probably feel pretty bad for me right now. But I have something that I bet any of you would kill for: enthusiastic middle schoolers. That’s right, when I ask someone to come to the board to write an answer to an exercise or read aloud, every hand in the room goes up. They snap, they yell “teacher teacher! Me teacher!” and some stand up. It doesn’t matter if they know the answer or have a clue what’s going on, they just want to participate. And these are 12-17 year olds! They repeat everything to the point where they start to repeat the directions I’m giving them. In so many ways, these kids have little going for them. Most won’t go to college, many will have trouble finding work, some won’t finish high school. But when they’re in class, they want nothing more than to answer the question. This of course creates classroom management problems, but I’d say it’s better than having 50 sullen faces stare back at you while you try in vain to get two volunteers to read a dialogue!

So that was my first week. It’s wonderful and hard, and I’m really enjoying it!

Check out the new pictures if you want—there are some new ones at the end of the Selibaby album (link below), and i'm hoping to get the ones of our halloween party up soon!

Selibaby


Wednesday, October 22, 2008

School days, school days...

...well, kind of. Yes, as some of you may have heard through the grapevine (aka my parents), I started school. This is kind of a long saga, so be prepared!

The word on the street was that school started October 12. I knew that school couldn't actually start then because no one had been there at all during the week leading up to it. Except for me. I poked my head in everyday and walked around the deserted grounds of the college/lycee (that's like middle school and high school, a total of 6 years which is changing to 7 soon). But just in case, on the 12th I got up early and took a shower ("shower" means bucket bath of course), put on my most professional looking Mauritanian clothes (which happen to be bright orange with a crazy pattern...I love this country) and headed off to school. Just like any new teacher in the US, I had to take off my shoes to walk through a few huge puddles on the way. I got there and, sure enough, the gate was open. I walked in, greeted a few people outside, and went to the director's office. He was sitting at his desk with 8 or 9 other men in the room, so I nervously peeked in and said good morning (the concept of "someone might be busy, I'll just wait" doesn't exist here). He looked up and stared blankly at me, so I introduced myself as the new PCV. He said, "you're Amanda's replacement?" and I said I was. He greeted me and offered me a chair, gave me the book to sign in (the teachers, administrators and students all come the same day, so there's a sign-in book to see which teachers actually came back this year), and after a few simple exchanges, ignored me.

So there I was, sitting awkwardly in the office, totally unsure of whether something was going on that day that I should be there for or not. I've never felt so obvious and yet so invisible before--obvious because I was the only woman and the only white person within...well, however many miles away Shelby was at the time, and invisible because in the nearly 2 hours I sat there, 5 or 6 people acknowledged me. Seriously. See, many people who hold administrative positions, as well as a number of teachers here in Selibaby, are Moors, and are therefor much less likely to greet women. It didn't surprise me that no one would shake my hand (3 or 4 did out of about 30 who passed through while I was there), but I wasn't prepared for being completely ignored. Many of them wouldn't even make eye contact, and the few that did looked away quickly. And these are my colleagues. I few times I wanted to shout, "I know you see me! My skin is practically GLOWING I'm so white! Hello!!!!" but I figured I should tone down the crazy on my first day. It's hard because on one hand, it's cultural and I'm in no position to judge. But on the other, people I work with and the parents of my future students won't acknowledge me. Deep breaths. I just have to get used to it because, as my sister put it when I asked if there were female teachers, "there's one and you make two."

OK, enough gender ranting for now. Really, the first day wasn't all bad. The director introduced me to a few people as their new co-worker, and finally one of the other English teachers sKane, my community counterpart's husband who is going to teach Shelby and me Pulaar. He shook my hand (sweet) and chatted for a while, then got up and said, "OK, I'm going downtown" and left. Until that point, I hadn't known which of the men coming and going were teachers, so I didn't know if I should stay. Shortly after, Sy Samba (who was a language teacher during stage and teaches English at the lycee as well) came in, said hi, stayed for about 45 seconds and left. By that point, I had been there for almost 2 hours, so I stood up. The director asked if I was leaving, and I said I guess so, and he said to come by every now and then, maybe in the next few days. So that was the first day of school.

You might be thinking, "alright, so that was almost 2 weeks ago, school must have started by now!" in which case you've clearly never been to Mauritania. I spent the first week going every morning, watching students register, sitting in the director's office for 1 minute-1 hour, and leaving. Occasionally when leaving I'd ask if classes were starting soon, and he would say "tomorrow, Inshallah." So by the end of the week, I figured I needed a little more information. I went on Thursday (weekends here are Friday and Saturday) determined to find out when school would maybe start and voice my preference for what classes I'd teach. The first day, the director mentioned putting me with the younger classes, which is what I wanted anyway. So after my usual sit and be ignored time, I got up to leave. He talked to me for a minute, but turned to someone else before I could ask him anything, so I stood there awkwardly waiting. Like I said, the "when can I jump in and interrupt without being rude" question is pretty open here, and I still haven't figured it out. So after about 5 minutes, he turned to me and said "yes Emily?" so I asked if classes were starting next week, and he said they'd finish the schedule over the weekend Inshallah. So I said, "if it's possible, I'd prefer to teach the younger classes," to which he responded, "that's what I already said." So I thanked him and ran away before my showing up everyday and asking questions could annoy him more.

So that was week one. This Sunday, I was a little more prepared. See, an important life lesson in Mauritania is don't worry about things you have no control over. It's important anywhere, but vital to your mental health here. I figured since not many teachers showed up on any given morning, I couldn't be the only one who didn't know what was going on. I also realized that the kids were still signing up, so until that was mostly finished it would be impossible to make a schedule (you kind of need to know how many students you have). So I got went to school every morning this week around 9 or 9:30, sat around in the director's office, talked to anyone who would look at me (maybe one or two people a day), and left after about 20 minutes. On Monday when I got up to leave, the director asked if I was going, and I said "I think so, unless there's anything I can do here." And he cracked up. He turned to Kane, who happened to be there for his occasional 1 minute visit, and said, "Emily just asked if there was something she could do here" and then they both laughed. He said no, there was nothing, so I said I'd be back the next day. Yesterday there were a lot less students registering, and the director said my schedule would be ready Wednesday Inshallah. Kane came by again, and when the director told him schedules weren't ready, he told me he was leaving. I said, "OK, see you later," and didn't get up to leave myself. He smiled at me and laughed, giving me a look that said "I can't believe you're actually spending time sitting here." Ce la vie.

When I got there today, I figured nothing would be ready. I found the director in a different office with the Director D'etudes (he does most of the organizational work), and believe it or not they gave me my schedule! I was shocked.

So for those of you with enough sense to skim through my babbling, here's the real news. I have a great schedule--I teach 4 classes of first year (that is, first year of middle school, when they start English) for a total of 8 hours, Tuesday and Thursday 8-12. That means from noon on Thursday to 8 on Tuesday I have nothing. It makes no sense to start classes tomorrow, so they're starting on Sunday. So maybe by the next time I post, I'll have actually started working. Maybe. Inshallah...

Thanks for all the comments, and I hope this post makes everyone feel like their place of employment is super organized!

Friday, October 10, 2008

Language

Anyone living in the US has heard the "well, they're in America now, why can't they just learn English?" argument made about immigrants. To anyone who's ever said that, thought it or even considered that it might have merit, I dare you to come to Mauritania. I double-dare you.

Don't get me wrong, I believe 100% that you should do everything you can to learn the language of whatever country you live in. The problem is, most Americans don't bother to learn other languages and have no idea how hard it is. Nor do they put themselves in situations which really make them feel foreign. This is why they should come to Mauritania. Most people here in Selibaby speak 3-5 languages. No joke. The kids in my family speak Pulaar, Soninke, French, some Hassaniya and some English they learn in school. The first question my brother asked me was, "so do you want to learn Pulaar and Soninke at the same time?" I stared at him blankly for a minute, then told him it would be best to just start with one. Now, I've only been in Selibaby for about a month and a half, and have had no official Pulaar lessons yet, but after studying with my brother I've picked up some basic words and greetings. This is a typical interaction on the street:

Emily: Umbalijamb (good morning)
Mauritanian: mumbles something in Pulaar
Emily: Noumbada? (how are you?)
Mauritanian: something else I don't understand
Emily: Mashallah (thanks to god)

I usually have no clue what just took place, but when I'm lucky, it works out. I just kind of insert what I know and hope for the best. Problem is, sometimes, people are just too darn friendly and actually want to talk to me. Bummer. They try to speak to me in Pulaar, and after I rattle of my few expressions and greetings, I bust out the blank, deer-in-headlights stare, followed by a meek apology for not being able to communicate. They usually laugh and slap my hand, thinking "oh silly toubab, you're not very bright." At least twice a week, someone launches into a speech about how important it is to learn the language, how I can't just speak French, how (insert local language of choice) is so easy. And all I can do is nod and sneak away. I tried telling them that I've only been here for a month, I really want to learn and I'm starting Pulaar lessons as soon as school gets going (Inshallah!), but that doesn't matter. The first few times this happened, I was frustrated. I would walk home thinking, "oh come on, give me a break, I speak more languages than the average American and I just learned French!" But then I realized two things 1) It doesn't matter to them because, no matter how valid my excuses are, I really don't speak a local language yet, and 2) no one in the US would listen to the excuses of a foreigner either. As obvious as this seems, it's one thing to know this and one thing to feel it. I want so badly to communicate with people in their language, and the insinuation that I'm just not trying is maddening. Life in a foreign country is overwhelming--wonderfully, excitingly overwhelming--and things like picking up a language are 27 times harder than they would be otherwise because your brain is on overload with new information and situations.

So next time you hear someone talk about those darn foreigners who make us put signs up in Spanish and never try to learn English, send them my way. I've got extra matelas waiting!

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Inshallah

Hi all (or my parents, who might be the only ones reading this!)

It’s been a little while since I’ve written because we’ve had major computer problems. We had to move our office here in Selibaby because of Peace Corps budget issues, and we’ve had trouble with the electricity at the new place. It might be figured out finally (Inshallah) but we’ll just have to wait and see!

Not too much has been going on here. I still haven’t started work. School is set to start on the 12th, which may or may not happen. When we heard the date, my sister said “well then it won’t really start until November! No one will go yet.” Most people don’t know when school starts, so students kind of trickle in and word spreads that classes have started. Sometime this week I’m going to go meet the director (if he’s there, Inshallah) and find out what I’ll be teaching (again, Inshallah)

So what do I do with my time? I sit. A lot. Mauritanians have an amazing talent for sitting around doing nothing, and I don’t mean the American sense of doing nothing by watching TV or reading or chatting. I really mean nothing. Sometimes they talk a little or put music on, but often they lounge around and drift in and out of sleep. I’m not being sarcastic when I call it a talent—try sitting doing nothing and see how long you last! I still get bored sometimes and I read a lot, but I’m getting better at the art of being a blob. I’ll be a little busier once school starts, Inshallah.

The only real news has been the fete. Ramadan ended this week, followed by three days of holiday/party/eating, emphasis on the eating. When I originally asked my host brother what we do for the fete, he looked at me like I was an idiot and said “we kill a sheep.” Duh, of course, what else would we do? Then I asked my father. He leaned forward and said very officially, “well, first we kill a sheep.” He then described other things we’d eat, and added that there would be music. When I asked my sister, she told me “we kill a sheep. Then we visit people. You need new clothes.” So I wasn’t terribly surprised when right after we finished our bread and coffee, my father and brother slaughtered one of our three sheep. After they finished dragging him out of the pen, I swear all the goats stood at the fence watching and the other sheep hid in the back. I found myself wondering, how do they know?? But then I remembered that they’re goats. Although they have figured out how to break through the wall of my hangar and escape their pen…I’ll have to keep my eye on them. Anyway, I left the deviously plotting goats and watched the men strip the sheep down, layer by layer. I figured we’d have some of it for lunch, so when my mother and sisters started cooking, I thought they were getting a head start. Not so. We ate our first plate of meat and potatoes around 9:30 AM. Now, as most people know, I’ve been a life-long vegetarian. I ate meat for the first time here in RIM, and I’ve been slowly trying to make myself eat more of it so I actually get some protein. During the first day of the fete, I probably quadrupled the amount of mean I’ve eaten, ever. After our first plate of meat and potatoes, we had another when my father got back home about an hour later, then had binaf (meat, potatoes and onion) for lunch and again for dinner. Whenever I tried to say I was full, my family would say “Hawa, this is the fete where we eat.” And that was that. Three days of being fed intense amounts of food everywhere I went.

OK, that’s all for now. More news on work soon Inshallah!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

First week at site (and pictures!)

Here I am again, and this time there aren't clouds rolling in! When I first got to Mauritania, I thought it was interesting that when people talk about the rain, they say "the rain is coming" instead of "it's going to rain." After my first few storms, I can understand why. Rain here is an event. After cutting my last post short, I made it home just as the rain was starting. Earlier this week, I was not so lucky. Shelby and I went to the bank to get our checkbooks, and as we were leaving it started to pour. We hopped in a cab, and I figured I might as well get the guy to take me home instead of to Kim's house (I moved in with my family last week--more to come on that!). Shelby got out at Kim's, and I tried to tell the driver where I lived. That's easier said than done when the only route I know is walking! I asked if he knew where my father lived, and he didn't, so I started to direct him. He drove for about a minute, then said there was too much water in the road and we couldn't go that way. I decided to go back to Kim's and wait it out there. After about an hour, it started to let up. I needed to get home for lunch, so I decided to leave my bag at Kim's and risk the walk. I stuck my phone in one side of my bra and my key in the other and headed out. Since there had been some water in the roads on my way into town, I was expecting the puddles up to my ankles and even mid-calf that I walked through most of the way home. Towards the end of my 10 minute walk, there is a (usually) empty stream bed. As I got to it, I saw a man crossing through water up to his knees. "OK," I thought, "this isn't so bad!" I hiked up my skirt (yes, please keep in mind that I'm wearing a wrap skirt this whole time) and step down the bank, promptly sinking up to my butt in water. No joke. I started laughing to myself and kept wading--what else could I do?--wishing I had thought to take my shoes off. Somehow I managed not to fall or get my phone wet. When I finally made it across the now 7 or 8 foot long river, I saw two of my younger host siblings running toward me. They each grabbed one of my hands, and laughing we walked the rest of the way home. My whole family was worried but also thought it was hilarious.

My family. What can I say about them? They're absolutely wonderful. I've stopped being Fatima Sow and am now Hawa Sarre (renaming is a really important part of family integration. Within minutes, I was Hawa--which was also the last volunteer's name and is my sister's name. Moms, if any of you take in a foreign student I expect you to rename her Emily Nelson). Without getting into too many ethnic generalizations, Pulaar families tend to be more relaxed than Moor families. I have my own little house in their compound and I eat my meals with them (they cook really well!). The first day, my father asked me if I ate meat. I told him I never did in the US but that I knew I had to here. He then slaughtered me a goat. Good times. I still don't love eating meat, but I've started making an effort since I've been here because I know I wasn't getting enough protein. They killed another goat today, and I'm pretty sure I ate head at lunch.

Other than the goat head eating, I really love my living situation. There are a lot of kids in the family ranging from a baby to 20, and they're a lot of fun. My 20 year old brother is teaching my Pulaar (hopefully I'll find an actual teacher once Ramadan is over), and his twin sister took me shopping to get stuff for my house. I'm their third PCV, so they're used to Americans, which is really nice. I spend a good amount of the time with them, but can retreat into my house when I want without anyone bothering me about it. They only come in to bring me tea, and sometimes my sister hangs out when I'm in there. So far, I'm really happy with them.

Since I've mentioned both Ramadan and goat head, some of you must be wondering, "but don't people fast during Ramadan?" The answer is officially yes and actually sometimes. There are lots of reasons people don't fast: if you're too young or too old, sick, pregnant or nursing, have your period, have to do heavy labor all day, travel a lot, etc., you don't fast. This tends to get stretched here in Selibaby! Most of my family isn't fasting, which is nice for me. They try to make me eat a lot (no big shock there), but with everyone except for my mom, telling me to eat is just a formality; they'll say "Hawa, mange," but when I say I'm full they leave it alone. My mother insists more, but when I say "Um-hari!" (I'm full in Pulaar) she usually laughs and lets me wash my hands.

I guess that's about all that's new. Work hasn't started yet because there's no school during Ramadan. I'm hoping to find the school director at some point so I can know when it does start and what grades I'm teaching...minor details.

Oh, and for Didi and Laura who asked about my maybe-kitchen! The whole idea of a kitchen as we know it doesn't exist here, at least not in normal houses. The cooking is usually done outside on small, camping-style gas stoves or over charcoal. Dishes are usually kept in a shed somewhere. My little room off of my bedroom has a shower at the back (by shower I mean a two-inch wall blocking off a little area with a hole going outside for water to drain out), and then has some cinder blocks that I can make into a table if I get a piece of wood. I'll probably do that at some point.

And last but not least, more pictures!
End of stage 1
End of stage 2
Selibaby

Enjoy!

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Selibaby!

Well, here I am! I officially swore in as a Peace Corps Volunteer last week, and am now at my site. It's so great to be here, although it's weird to think that I won't see most of the other volunteers until Christmas. There's a great group of 9 of us in the region (4 second year and 5 1st year volunteers), and three of us are actually in Selibaby. I signed a lease on my little house yesterday, so I think I'm moving in tomorrow. It was built by a PCV, and I'm the third to live there. It has a bedroom with a little shower room/kitchen maybe off of it, and a porch under an awning. It's in a family's compound, so really I get the best of both worlds.

Uh oh, it's about to start pouring! Just wanted to let people know that I'm here and everything's OK. If I don't leave now I'll get stuck, but more to come soon!!

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Pictures!

The moment my moms have been waiting for/asking about non-stop since I got here/threatening me about has finally arrived. I spent most of the afternoon for the last 3 days uploading pictures, so enjoy! Here's the link--they're on facebook but you should be able to see them even if you're not (in other words, mom, please don't make a facebook page).

First album

Second album

Enjoy!

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Last day of homestay...

...and I'm pretty happy about it! Don't get me wrong, it's been a great few months, I'm just so ready to move on. My family has been...ok. For the most part they're nice to me, although I'm pretty sure one of my aunts is crazy even by US standards and yells at me at random. No big. There are some days when I'm sitting there surrounded by people all talking at me in Hassaniya (they know I don't speak it, but that doesn't stop them!), kids climbing on me, eating weird food and I can't help but think "OK, where the heck am I??" But then there are days when I'm sitting there surrounded by people talking at me in Hassaniya, kids climbing on me, eating weird food and I know I'm going to miss them. I won't miss the pancake batter with pasta in it for dinner though. Eew.



Anyway, the only real news recently is that model school is over! It was really great to have three weeks actually in the classroom, working with real kids. My class was really small (we had a record 8 of them show up for the test), but even so I learned a lot about the kind of problems I'll no doubt run into. The girls can be painfully shy and hide in their mulafas when you try to get them to answer questions, even when they know the answer. It's considered OK here for kids to snap their hand and yell "teacher! teacher!" when they want to get your attention/ask a question/give an answer. Might not sound like a big deal, but it is when 60 of them do it! I'm fine with the snapping, but I'm making a no yelling teacher rule from day one. We'll see how that goes. Of the 8 kids who took the test on Friday, we had 6 pass. That's considered really good. We (Mike and I taught 5th year together) were really happy with it since one girl who failed only started coming for the last week (she got 3.5/20, and they were totally lucky guesses...she filled in some vocab blanks to make sentences such as "Shakira is very jump," and "I don't know where the post office is, can you score me?") The other kid who didn't pass stopped coming by the end and only filled in half the test. If he'd bothered to do the rest of it, I'm sure he would have passed, he just didn't for some reason. But at the end of the day, our students who came to class did well. That's a good feeling. And I taught them the word awesome, so what more do they need?



So tomorrow morning I leave my house in Satara for the last time (I really hope my family fully understands this...they've been know to be a little slow/forget that I've told them things) and go to the model school cerimony, then to the center. It will be nice to have a week or so all together before heading out to Selibaby. I'm excited to start my real life here, although since it will be Ramadan right as we get to site, it will be a slow beginning. Maybe my new family will teach me some Pulaar. Good thing I had those 3 weeks of Hassaniya! : ) Megan and I did set a record with a total of 5 different teachers during stage. Pretty impressive!



That's all for now. John, who's sitting across the cyber from me, just informed me that he's stalking my blog so I better post this for him. Creep : )

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Coup

Don't worry, I'm OK! things are fine here. It was actually about as uneventful as a coup can be. Here in Rosso you wouldn't have even known. People are still having some trouble getting in and out of Nouakchott...but other than that and the old president and PM being under arrest it's business as usual! There seem to be really mixed opinions about it here, and depending on who you talk to you could get a vastly different answer.

In other news, I started actual work this past week. We spend 3 weeks teaching at Model School--basically classrooms with actual kids who get a certificate for going to English school over the summer. I taught 3 days last week, and teach1 or 2 hours a day for the next 2 weeks. It's hard because we skip around between classes, and it's so hard to know where the students are at! These are seriously multi-level classrooms. So far, I've taught 1st year (they start the first year of middle school), 5th year and the adult class. It's a ton of work, but I really, really like it. I spend my nights making lesson plans, which include things like how to set up the chalk board and stuff that I never thought I'd plan out, but it's so important to keep control of the class, especially here. Next week, I'm switching between 4th and 5th year, and then will stick with 5th year for the last 7 days.

I also started learning Hassaniya, which is fun and intense. It's hard to learn a non-written language! The Peace Corps basically made up an alphabet with French letters to make it easier for us to learn, but there are so many sounds we just don't have. It's also really interesting learning one foreign language in another (the class is taught in French). My family really likes that I'm learning, even though I haven't had much time to study yet! The whole switching languages and starting school at the same time thing was a lot for one week, plus the whole coup thing and just general toubab fun...it was a really busy but wonderful week.

OK, I hope all is well at home! Keep in touch! And thanks to people who have sent mail! I got a letter from Natalie and a bday card from Linds, and it rocked my world. And as always my moms are the best mail senders :)

Lots of love!

Friday, August 1, 2008

Update and my site!

Hi all,

Sorry I've been out of touch! On my birthday I got the wonderful gift off finding out my site where I'm going to be for the next 2 years. I'm going to a town called Selibaby, down towards the south of Mauritania (if you look at a map, there's a little part of the country that dips down by the border of Senegal and Mali--it's by there). We left to go to our sites for a week on th 22nd. It was quite a trip! To get there, we went from Rosso to Boghe, then to Aleg, then through Kiffa and spent the night in a tiny little village (maybe 10 houses) outside of Selibaby. Most of the trip between Kiffa and Selibaby was done with no road, literally going through rivers and bouncing around so much that one of the Peace Corps guys with us threw up out the window. It was certainly an adventure! It took about 16 hours.

Selibaby is wonderful. It's a regional capital, but it's small. Much smaller than Rosso. I'm going to be living and teaching in a part of town that's mostly pulaar, which means two things: 1) the hassaniya i'm starting to learn on sunday won't be as helpful and 2) I won't have to wear a mulafa when I'm there!!! So as usual everything as ups and downs. I plan on learning Pulaar when I get there. It's very green right now in Selibaby because it's the rainy season, and I guess the trade off for being nearly impossible to get to is that there's grass and trees! The current volunteers there are great, and the other 4 people coming to the region with me are wonderful. It will be really nice to get there and finally be in one place, not living out of a suitcase! There are definitely some challenges, like the trip to get there and getting used to not having all the things we do in Rosso (less veggies now, but there will be some during the drier season, general smaller town things). But there is a guy in town who makes sandwiches on Pita bread!!! You have no idea how exciting that is. A vegetarian sandwich here is pretty funny: french fries, sometimes egg, ketchup and mayo on bread. I kid you not. It's actually really good, maybe just because it's different but don't knock it til you rock it! What else can I say about it...I had my first run-in with a blister bettle. Basically they crawl on you and release an acidic liquid which give you blisters. I got it on my neck. Good times! Really we're all covered in weird skin things, bug bites, sand all the time...you get used to it!

The trip back to Rosso was shorter because there hadn't been rain for a few days and we could take the other road to Kaedi and then spent the night in Boghe with some other volunteers. I got back to my family yesterday, and they were really happy to see me. The two little kids came running to me and threw themselves on me, as did my aunt when she got home (about an hour and a half later she was yelling at me to give her a gift even though I had brought back food for the family...she does that from time to time, I think she's a little crazy. After a little bit she was totally happy with me again). It's nice to be back, but I'm also glad it's only for 3 more weeks. I'll be living in my own little place in a Pulaar family's complex in Selibaby, and in general they're more relaxed than Moor families. They were kind of upset to hear I was going to Selibaby for 2 years and kept saying how far away it is, but I promised them I'd visit. They loved hearing my stories, and after a little while it was back to normal at my house--they spend a lot of time debating which other toubabs I should marry, and I just tell them I can't get married here because my mom would be mad! Tonight we're going to a wedding in the neighborhood so that should be fun.

OK, that's all for now. More to come soon!

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Hi all! I'm here in the cyber between lunch and class, and I thought I'd try to actually give an update on my life here. I guess this is what I can think of that's new:

--I still try to eat as little meat as possible, but now when I walk down the street and see a goat (which is always) I think "I could eat you. I might even eat you tomorrow!" I don't know what it is, but I kind of like the idea that I can eat that guy if I want to. What power! So far I'm not so into the taste, but then again it is goat and camel...most people seem to love the camel thought.



--My family still refuses to speak to me in French. Well, not exactly. After the one day when they literally wouldn't speak to me in anything other than Hassaniya, they've started translating again, but only after the first few times they say something. I just kind of shrug, and then we all laugh and they explain it.



--The new craze at my house is dance parties. When there's something on the TV that's playing music, they get me to get up and dance. They're teaching me some Mauritanian dance moves. It's good times



--One week from today we find out our permanent site. That's so hard to believe! It'll be 1 month down, 26 to go :)



--My family is still great. They got me yet another mulafa, and when I came out wearing it yesterday they kept telling me how nice it looked. Even though it's basically a giant bed sheet, it makes them so happy that I don't even mind that much.



--We have baby chicks at my house now to go along with the goats, sheep and cats (the cats don't live there, but they come in and out). And speaking of animal stories...the other morning I went with my prof and one of the other people in my class to watch the camels and cows being slaughtered. Really, really interesting/horrifying/amazing to see. When we got there (around 6:45 AM) the camels were already dead, but we saw them kill a few cows. Then they skin them and take them apart bit by bit to bring to the market. They didn't scream or make any noise really, which I think is really good--I'd have a Silence of the Lambs moment if I had heard that ("are the camels still screaming, Emily?"). I'm really glad we went because a) it was pretty cool to see, I don't care how morbid that sounds and b) it's interesting to know how the meat actually gets to our big communal bowl.

--The food is...well, tedious. We eat the same thing all the time, and at this point I would kill for a salad and stir fry! Or some real cheese. Or anything that's not oily rice/pasta with goat/fish/camel. The other part of this problem is that my family wants me to get fat. They've told me so many, many times. Big women are hot here because it's a sign of wealth. My family tells me to eat constantly, even when I'm in the middle of a bite, and then makes a getting fat gesture which ends with blown out cheeks, arms up and waddling back and forth. I try to say I don't want to have to waddle, but they're not into that. You just have to be forceful, lick your hand (polite to do after a meal) and wash up as quickly as possible.

--I'm starting to miss things like grass and water to swim in, but also getting very used to my surroundings. Walking over trash and avoiding the donkey pulled carts is second nature now, as is greeting everyone when you walk in a room--I shake hands with all the women, and basically ask how they're doing in many different ways, falling back to "Ca va?" when my limited Hassaniya runs out. It's a nice custom when you think about it.

--Going back to food (which we talk about all the time pretty much), in class today our prof was talking about a place in the north where the basically just eat bread, sugar and meat with rice. I mentioned that they didn't seem to get enough vitamins, and he told me I was totally wrong, that they had meat, bread and milk so what more did they need? I suggested veggies, and he said they sometimes eat unripe watermelon seeds or potatoes...I was floored. The whole concept of "good for you" is totally different here. He finally just said "well they're alive, so it must be fine." I let it go rather than trying to explain malnutrition.

I guess this is enough for now. I'm trying to write about the most interesting things, but know that on a daily basis I'm happy and (mostly...kind of) healthy. Mauritania is such an underrated country. If anyone has the chance to get here, do! More to come soon! Keep in touch--I got my first mail the other day and I can't even say how exciting it was! And emails are wonderful too.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Don't worry, I'm fine!

Well after checking my email and seeing 2 worried emails from my mom, I thought I'd write a quick note saying I'm fine and everything is still going well! French is coming along, although my family seems to have decided to only speak to me in Hassaniya...so that makes things interesting! Still really liking it, although there are moments when you stop and think what am I doing here when I could be eating good food on a nice tropical beach?? But then you drink a fanta (fanta is a big part of our lives here), play with some toddlers (they're now getting the 2 year old at my house to run over and kiss me, and she loves that her hair is braided like mine), and just look around. It is really amzing to be here. My family loves to dress me up in mulafas and braid my hair (which PS hurts like no other!), I'm kind of their child/doll. I've started going running (well, kind of...we jog) with another PCT and when I come out in pants they always ask if i'm going to Faire du sport, and when I say yes they get really happy about it and also confused about why I run up the street and down it again. That's how people seem to feel about us in general--happy, excited and confused.

Sorry this is so jumbled--I'm about to get cut off and my family wants me home anyway. All my love!!!! And keep the comments and emails coming! Feel free to ask questions if you want me to post about something specific!

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Wow, there is so much to write and I don't even know where to begin. Last Friday, after a few great days of Mauritania summer camp at the Peace Corps center, we left for our host families. I'm about a 15 minute walk from the center and the market. My family is great--there are tons of kids ranging from about 1 year old to 16, and i think some others who live in other towns. I'm still not sure whose kids are whose...there are several adults in the house, the mom's sister lives with us, but all the kids are just like everyone's kids. They're really nice to me, although they spend a lot of time talking about me in hassaniya (the local language i'll be learning after some more french). I hear blah blah blah Fatima (the name they gave me) hahaha! It's all good.

My best story so far happened the first day. I call it "how i accidentally converted to islam and then unconverted in one day":

About a few hours after I got to my house, I got mulafaed. I mulafa is basically a giant sheet of fabric that gets wrapped around the women. I wasn't surprised because a lot of the families do it to their toubabs (white people). THey had been making me repeat things in hassaniya all morning because they want me to speak it right away, so I just kind of went along with it. Mostly they would say something, I would repeat and then they'd explain: bread, peanut, come here, etc. But after they wrapped me in a mulafa they had me repeat something, and all of a sudden I hear "Allah" and I start thinking hmmm..... Then my mom sits me on a little bench and has me wash my hands. It was almost time for lunch so I was like yeah, OK, but then she told me to do it 3 times and then my face and feet. So I start thinking "oooooh shit" because this is what you do before praying. I told her I didn't understand but she just kept pouring water on me. Then she brought me over and told me to repeat again, and I kept repeating in French that I didn't understand, but my father was like "Fatima! Just repeat!" So I did. By the time I had realized what was going on, it was too late to go back. After praying we ate, and I took a nap. When I got up, Nana (my mom) brought me to the bench to wash my hands again, and I was like "No, I'm not supposed to." She didn't understand, and called over my father (who speaks better French). I explained to him that because we didn't grow up doing all the things that Islamic kids do, we don't know enough to have the right respect and we shouldn't pray. He liked that ("Ce bom Fatima, ce bom") and we moved on. They haven't made me do it since. Word spread fast among my fellow trainees, and I really made everyone's day.

Here's a sum up of the rest of my first week with my family:
-I ate goat. That's right, goat. It's chewy. I try to avoid it and eat around the meat and fish, but it's hard when you eat with your hands out of a communal bowl filled with rice, cous cous or pasta, meat or fish and sometimes veggies. They all push food at me, Fatima mange mange! They want to make me fat so Mauritanian men will like me. For breakfast we have what tastes like warm pancake mix. MMM. There are some good black eyed peas, though, and overall the food is Ok.
-The other thing they try to give me is milk. But we're talking the most intense whole milk ever. Also to make me fat. Yesterday we found a baby kitten on the way to my class and took him to school with us, so we give him my milk now. He's pretty gross and probably dying, but we like him. They let him stay at the school for now.
-We all sweat all the time here. Like all the time. You get used to it. Kind of.
-Kids follow me a lot on the street, and they love to shake your hand or talk to you a little. They ask for money sometimes, and we ignore them or say "what are you going ot give me??" They laugh at the toubabs a lot. It's all good.
-the most important thing here (other than filtering water...haven't been sick yet inshallah) is going with the flow. If you let things get to you, you will go crazy. People talk to/about you in languages you don't understand all the time, you're always covered in sweat and sand, there are bugs everywhere, trash covers all the streets...but if you just take things as they come, you enjoy yourself. You learn to love the little things, like being able to barter in the market, watching insane arab TV all day with your family, buying cold juice or ice cream, running into other PCTs on the street, remembering a few words your family teaches you.

There are so many things I want to say and to write, but my time is almost up. Hopefully I'll get pictures up soon! Also, if anyone wants to send letters or things, I will love you forever. Legit. Especially if it's candy. :) My address is:

Emily Nelson, PCT
Corps de le Paix
BP 222
Nouakchott, Mauritania

Please keep in touch, emails and comments are great. Phone calls are sweet too!

I'll end with I'm happy, healthy, sweaty, overwhelmed and looking forward to going home and taking a bucket bath! Mauritania is amazing.

All my love!!

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Here I am!

Just to start out, this is the weirdest keyboard ever so please hang in there with my typing!

Im sitting here in computer place in Rosso. What can I even say to start... we have been here for a few days now, and it is amazing. Mauritanians are so nice and friendly, and the people i am with are great. it is super crazy hot and sandy, but at night when we sleep outside in out little mosquito net tent city it gets windy and cool and beautiful. we eat out of communal bowls with our right hands and so far at the center they have been ,aking veggie food for a group of us. it is so good! the bathroom thing you get used to... they use water in a little tea pot instead of TP and you squat over a little hole. the first time is daunting but after that it starts to seem normal. we have showers here but often no water in them, so i have been taking bucket baths. not bad at all really.

i wish i could put Mauritania into words. Rosso is considered a city rather than small town, but it is full of small, often crumbling buildings. there is no trash system so there is trash all over the street, and usually a few goats eating it. cars go along side donkey pulled carts. people wear beautiful clothes and greet each other for several minutes each time. nothing you would picture fro, this can capture ,y new home. i will put up picts asap. i love it here. i wouldnt wznt to be anywhere else§

ok this took about 20 min to type so i have to go. i have a cell now 011 222 459 68 91. all my love!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Staging

Hi all (or maybe just my moms who may be the only ones reading!)

This will have to be a quick post, but I just wanted to write a little bit about staging. I got to Atlanta on Tuesday evening, and have just spent 2 days with an amazing group of people. Many of us met in the airport and took a shuttle to the hotel. It was really funny to see how a lot of us found each other--basically you would see someone with a huge backpack, make awkward eye contact, look away, look back...finally one of you would say "Peace Corps?" or "Mauritania?" to the other, and then start the introductions for the millionth time. It was pretty amusing.

But really, I feel so lucky to be with this group. Although the past few days have been really, really long, we're all having a blast for the most part. Some training sessions can be long, but the other Mauritania trainees are better than I could have hoped. And not just because some of you might read this (hopefully it will be Donny Strong!).

Tomorrow we head to the airport at 10, and then wait for our 3:45 flight. It's hard to believe that tonight is our last night in the US (and in a real bed!!). My roommate and I have been taking full advantage of our big comfy beds, the hot shower and FOOD most of all.

I hope all is well with everyone at home. Don't know when I'll be able to get on the internet again--we fly into Dakar and then take a 5-6 hour bus ride to Rosso, where we start training and live in dorms for 5 days before meeting our host families. Hopefully after 5 days I'll have enough of the language to at least communicate a little!

That's all for now! Lots of love!!!

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Peace Corps Application Process

I want to preface this by saying that everyone’s application process is different. When I was in the middle of it, I spent a ton of time reading current volunteer’s blogs to find out how long it took them to get their medical clearance, invite, etc. to figure out how much longer I had to wait—this can help put your mind at ease, but it totally depends on your individual application.

I started the whole process in January 2007. I think I finished my on-line application by the end of January or early February, and then I had an interview up at school (I went to Middlebury College in VT). I was nominated on May 7. I didn’t start my medical/dental paperwork until I got home from school, but I sent it in at the end of June (I think they got it on the 25th or 26th). At that point, I didn’t think it would take very much time for me to get medically cleared. I have never had any serious medical problems and am ridiculously healthy. I got my dental papers back about a month later saying that I needed some cavities filled, but since that doesn’t hold up the invitation process I decided to wait until I got back from school (I spent the summer studying Portuguese). I tried to tell myself that it would take time and not run to my mailbox every day, but it was hard to put out of my mind.

The waiting continued through the summer and into the fall. I didn’t want to call the medical office because I didn’t want to come across as pushy, so I just waited. Finally by mid-September I decided that I had to figure out what was going on, and I called. They told me something about having to wait until at least the end of December or beginning of January to receive clearance, and I got off the phone feeling incredibly frustrated. How could it take six or seven months to review my very simple medical file? Well, it turns out that whomever I talked to must have been confused because I received medical clearance about four days later. I have no proof of this, but I think he must have been confused and looking at the date my file would be considered for an invitation based on the program date. I’m also convinced that if I hadn’t called, I would have waited even longer. I would advise anyone in this situation to give it a reasonable amount of time, but then to call and check in. Everyone says you should start your application early, but since I sent it in about a year before I wanted to leave I was at the bottom of the list in terms of priority.

So then the waiting continued, and I spent the majority of my free time scanning the internet, trying to figure out how long it usually took from receiving medical clearance to getting the invite. I then started getting emails from the placement office asking for an updated resume and for a confirmation of my earliest date of availability. Since I was graduating from college that February, I had originally said that I would be available in mid-May to give myself some time. However, after waiting so long I figured I would tell them that I could leave as early as the second week in February to give myself the best chance. I had a long series of back and forth emails about this date, and finally the placement officer just told me that he would add it to my file. Then I continued to wait.

By the end of December I was getting a little panicked, not because I was desperate to know where I was going but because no one could tell me if I was definitely in or not. They said that the majority of people who are medically cleared get invited, but no one could give me a guarantee. The problem was the timing; I was a little more than a month away from graduating, and started to worry that I wouldn’t get in and then would be jobless. Peace Corps was by far my first choice, but I worried about what would happen if I didn’t get in and hadn’t applied for anything else. When I went home for winter break, I decided to email the placement office about my concerns to see if there was anything they could do. That’s when the real craziness started. After several confusing emails, the guy from the office that I had been talking to told me to call him so he could explain everything. He told me that the program I had been nominated for (Community Development, Portuguese-speaking Africa, April 08) had been moved to late June, which was causing the hold-up in my application process. The Peace Corps reviews files by date the applicant is scheduled to leave rather than order in which the application is complete, which I can understand but is still really frustrating for those of us trying to plan ahead and get everything done on time. I felt like I was getting screwed for getting my application in early and that people who waited until the last minute were getting preference. I then found out that the program had again been bumped back, this time until late July. The problem, the P.O. explained, was that they didn’t consider applicants for the July programs until at least early February. At that point, I tried to explain without bursting into tears of frustration that I couldn’t wait until February because I wouldn’t be able to plan my post-grad time (for example, I thought about traveling but wouldn’t be able to make plans because I could receive an invite saying I was leaving in as little as six weeks). He then asked me if I had finished my medical forms, and was totally shocked to hear that I had been medically cleared for three months. He told me to hold on for a minute, then came back and told me that if I would be willing to teach English instead of community development and to learn French, he could move me to a program in a Francophone African country and consider my application immediately. I think my response went something like this:

Emily: “Uhhhhh.....what? How do I learn French?”

Smooth. He told me that it didn’t have to be at Middlebury, that I could take a class anywhere and have the teacher give them an update on my progress. I considered it, and then told him yes. He said to write him an email with written confirmation of my agreement to learn French (since I told him that I didn’t want to sign up for a class until I knew that I would actually need to). It was around the 16th or 17th of December at this point, and when I asked how long it would take to consider my file, he told me that guy who makes the official nomination switch was in that day but that he probably wouldn’t be able to get to it right away so I would have to wait until the end of the month or early January (they were about to leave for the Christmas holiday). I didn’t really know what to think at that point. I had gotten kind of attached to leaving in April and going to a Portuguese speaking country, but I realized that the only reason I felt that way was because that was what they had originally told me. In my application, I said I would go anywhere and I meant it. I started to look at the on-line map and read about the countries I could possible go to, and I got really excited. So I resigned myself to a few more weeks of waiting.

Then, for the first time in the whole application process, I got lucky. The next day, my on-line toolkit reported that my application review was complete and that my invitation had been sent. Unfortunately, I hadn’t updated my address because I didn’t expect it until I got back to school, so it was on its way to Vermont while I was in Massachusetts. I had to wait until after Christmas, but luckily my parents were going up to Vermont on the 27th and agreed to go to the college and check my mail for me. We weren’t sure if they would let her get my mail or not, and I was totally prepared to get hysterical and cry on the phone to the people at the mail center and beg them to give her my mail. But one of the best things about going to a small college in the middle of Vermont is the trust—they gave it to her without any problems. She called me and told me that I was going to Mauritania, and I can honestly say that I have never been so excited.

So that’s the long story. It took about a year from submitting my application to receiving the invitation, but it was worth the wait. For anyone going through this, I would suggest keeping in contact with the Peace Corps whenever you have questions or worry about the status of your application. Don’t be unreasonable about it (it will take time, that’s just a fact), but if you have questions about what’s holding up the process, don’t hesitate to call or email them.

I hope this helps! Feel free to ask any questions!

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

First Post

So I feel a little weird posting here already because I haven't left the US yet, but I figure it's a good idea to get everything up and running before I leave. I can't wait! At some point soon I'll write a post about my application experience and everything--reading other people's blogs was really helpful when I went through it.

As for right now, there's nothing too exciting to say. I'm trying to learn French, which is going...well, it's going OK I guess. My class is a lot slower paced than I'm used to (anyone from Midd, regular midd or language school, knows what I'm talking about!). I'm hoping to spend a week in Montreal doing an immersion program at the end of this month, so we'll see. I feel like if I could get just a little more under my belt I could just use the Rosetta Stone and find a conversation partner here in Boston. It gets so frustrating because I can read a lot and my brain feels like I should be able to speak it, but that's not quite the case. Everyone keeps asking me why the Peace Corps didn't send me somewhere Spanish or Portuguese speaking, but I'm really looking forward to picking up new languages. I just hope I'm not totally incompetent when I get there!

Alrighty, that's all for now. More to come soon!