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!!