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!