I just finished two books on Africa that were really interesting. The first, The Sword and the Cross: Two Men and an Empire of Sand by Fergus Fleming, is a history of the creation of the French colonies in Africa told through the biography of Charles de Foucald and Henri Laperrine. What is most striking about this story is how haphazard the entire thing was. There was almost no control and little support in Paris for the expanding French empire in Africa. The majority of French citizens wanted nothing to do with the vast Saharan desert and the politicians knew they could not afford to control such a huge and desolate wasteland.
Ultimately, the campaigns that created French Saharan Africa were the work of military men too far from Paris to control. Almost every single one of these men had a few strings loose and most were frightening meglomaniacs--think Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now.
The second book is Sahara Unveiled by William Langewiesche. It recounts the author's overland trip from Algiers to Dakar, mostly via taxi, truck, and bus. It presents a very even handed portrait of good and awful parts of touring northern Africa. Oddly enough, in a book that is basically a list of worst vacation horror stories ever, including a unforeseen episode of gun running into Libya and an attempt on the author's life in the Algerian desert, the brief chapter on Mauritania struck me as the most negative in the entire book. Mr. Langewiesche didn't like anything about Mauritania and felt nothing but pity for the Peace Corps volunteer he stayed with here.
He visited in 1990, just after the les eventements de '89 (a euphemism for racial conflict culminating in attempted genocide) so it was still a pretty tense place. But the book made me think that I'm either one tough as nails soldier of fortune (which is certainly not the case) or this place has improved a lot in the last two decades. In fact, I would like to extend an open invitation to Mr. Langewiesche to return to Nouakchott where he can sleep on my floor, eat a hamburger with an egg on top, and enjoy the more harmonious race relations.
vendredi 13 juin 2008
Taxi
Most of the time I'm pretty comfortable here in Nouakchott. I know where to find the things I want, I know how much they should cost, and if not, I'm more confident in my French, so I can usually work it out. I shut my windows in the morning to keep the apartment cool in the day and open them up at night. I know which restaurants have A/C when the afternoon is unbearable. I can turn down three glasses of tea, gracefully leave a friend's house when I'm ready, and turn down an invitation if I don't want to go. But there are still things I sometimes dread. That includes taking a taxi. It's not just the terrible driving; it's being locked in a car with curious strangers and dealing with the same questions again and again.
1.How can I get a VISA to America? I tried to get a VISA to America. I need to go to America! (Response: Yes, it's very hard right now. I have nothing to do with it. I wish it was easier.)
2.Bush bad! (Response: He is not very popular. He won't be president much longer.) I've heard this less and less lately. Now the conversation usually starts with Obama, who is a superstar. No one knows the name of the other guy.
3.Who will win? / Who will you vote for? / Obama! (Response: I don't know, he could win. He's very popular. We're from the same city!)
4.You don't speak Hassiniya/Pulaar/Wolof/Soninké? (Response: No. I'd like to learn. Languages are very difficult for me.)
5. Are you married? You should be married! (Response: No, not yet. That's what my mom says.)
6.You need to find an African wife! (Response: Awkward laugh.)
7.You don't have anything smaller? (Response: No, I told you I would need change.) Now we drive around asking people for change.
8.Give me your phone number! (Response: ummmm. uhhh.)
1.How can I get a VISA to America? I tried to get a VISA to America. I need to go to America! (Response: Yes, it's very hard right now. I have nothing to do with it. I wish it was easier.)
2.Bush bad! (Response: He is not very popular. He won't be president much longer.) I've heard this less and less lately. Now the conversation usually starts with Obama, who is a superstar. No one knows the name of the other guy.
3.Who will win? / Who will you vote for? / Obama! (Response: I don't know, he could win. He's very popular. We're from the same city!)
4.You don't speak Hassiniya/Pulaar/Wolof/Soninké? (Response: No. I'd like to learn. Languages are very difficult for me.)
5. Are you married? You should be married! (Response: No, not yet. That's what my mom says.)
6.You need to find an African wife! (Response: Awkward laugh.)
7.You don't have anything smaller? (Response: No, I told you I would need change.) Now we drive around asking people for change.
8.Give me your phone number! (Response: ummmm. uhhh.)
What else have I been doing?
Everyone says that your time in Peace Corps is what you make of it. There is minimal supervision, you may or may not be placed with a counterpart, and even if you are, it's up to you how much time you dedicate to them, you're allowed to work with almost anyone you like and you are encouraged to create your own projects based on the needs you find in your site. My experience so far has been all over the map, with intensely busy periods followed by breaks of almost no work.
I've been teaching only two or three days a week since arriving in Nouakchott. During the first few months, I spent a lot of time preparing for each class, but that is much less demanding now. I also spent that time working with the United Nations on projects that have the very French goal of sensibilisation. The first of these was the Caravan for the Millennium Development Goals. This involved visiting a number of the poorest quartiers and tent cities surrounding Nouakchott and performing sketches about sanitation, health, poverty, and other life issues. I was really just along for the ride, but it was interesting and a great way to meet people and see the city when I first got here.
The second UN project involved a story writing and drawing contest held at a number of schools throughout the country. I was able to contribute more to this effort and in the end I helped do the layout for a small book about water issues in Mauritania. After this, my contact at the UN returned to Spain and I haven't had a chance to work with them since.
I usually spend a few hours a week helping a small building maintenance and security company improve their computer accounting and invoicing procedures or help the owner draft bid proposals in English. The stated goal of the SED/ICT program in Mauritania is to help those working in the informal sector. I'm not sure this company, or most of the others I've partnered with, fit neatly into that category. But I don't see much need for computers, much less computer support, in truly informal enterprises here either. From my work in the States, I can appreciate how hard it is to turn a small business into a profitable, longterm enterprise, so I'm happy to work with these companies.
Other work includes computer support at the Islamic Law university, teaching computer maintenance to two employees at a private English language school, and, of course, teaching gym class twice a week at a kindergarten.
In May I was placed at a government ministry to help them revamp their website and improve their (nonexistent) office network. About a two weeks after starting, all the ministers were laid off. I was told I'd have to wait until the new minister had approved having a Peace Corps volunteer working in the office before I could come back. That was about a month ago and I'm not sure what's going to happen there. They wanted me in the office nearly 20 hours a week. It might be nice to have something of a regular schedule, but this would made it more difficult to pursue all the various other things I'm involved in, like reading lots of books.
Finally, a lot of time is spent grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, and washing laundry by hand. I have language lessons a few times a week. Then there's music and movies at the French Cultural Center, books to read, friends to see, interminably long lunches, three glasses of tea to drink, half hearted attempts to exercise before it's too hot, so that, even with all the free time, I still go to sleep exhausted.
I've been teaching only two or three days a week since arriving in Nouakchott. During the first few months, I spent a lot of time preparing for each class, but that is much less demanding now. I also spent that time working with the United Nations on projects that have the very French goal of sensibilisation. The first of these was the Caravan for the Millennium Development Goals. This involved visiting a number of the poorest quartiers and tent cities surrounding Nouakchott and performing sketches about sanitation, health, poverty, and other life issues. I was really just along for the ride, but it was interesting and a great way to meet people and see the city when I first got here.
The second UN project involved a story writing and drawing contest held at a number of schools throughout the country. I was able to contribute more to this effort and in the end I helped do the layout for a small book about water issues in Mauritania. After this, my contact at the UN returned to Spain and I haven't had a chance to work with them since.
I usually spend a few hours a week helping a small building maintenance and security company improve their computer accounting and invoicing procedures or help the owner draft bid proposals in English. The stated goal of the SED/ICT program in Mauritania is to help those working in the informal sector. I'm not sure this company, or most of the others I've partnered with, fit neatly into that category. But I don't see much need for computers, much less computer support, in truly informal enterprises here either. From my work in the States, I can appreciate how hard it is to turn a small business into a profitable, longterm enterprise, so I'm happy to work with these companies.
Other work includes computer support at the Islamic Law university, teaching computer maintenance to two employees at a private English language school, and, of course, teaching gym class twice a week at a kindergarten.
In May I was placed at a government ministry to help them revamp their website and improve their (nonexistent) office network. About a two weeks after starting, all the ministers were laid off. I was told I'd have to wait until the new minister had approved having a Peace Corps volunteer working in the office before I could come back. That was about a month ago and I'm not sure what's going to happen there. They wanted me in the office nearly 20 hours a week. It might be nice to have something of a regular schedule, but this would made it more difficult to pursue all the various other things I'm involved in, like reading lots of books.
Finally, a lot of time is spent grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, and washing laundry by hand. I have language lessons a few times a week. Then there's music and movies at the French Cultural Center, books to read, friends to see, interminably long lunches, three glasses of tea to drink, half hearted attempts to exercise before it's too hot, so that, even with all the free time, I still go to sleep exhausted.
What have I been doing?
Soon after arriving in Nouakchott I began teaching computer classes at a small cybercafe in a neighborhood called Socajim PS. I teach two classes, the first is a bureautique course that covers Windows, Word, Excel, email, and the Internet. In the first half of the course, the students mostly copy completed documents and spreadsheets to learn how to use the features of Microsoft Office programs. I try to get through this as quickly as possible because my goal has been to create more interesting assignments than simply copying someone else's work. I want the students to understand how to use these programs to do their own work in the future, which means starting with a blank page and figuring out how to fill it ones self. My other goal is to teach the students how to do research using the Internet. There are barely any libraries or other sources for written material here so the Internet opens up an huge amount of information to the students.
In the second half of the course I give assignments that include creating a CV in Word, using Wikipedia to research various locales and presenting that information in an Excel spreadsheet, using Google to find the answers to a number of obscure questions, and creating invoices and a cost/benefit analysis in Excel based on the work of imaginary businesses.
The second course I have been teaching is on computer maintenance. I really enjoy this because all the students have been so excited by it. It's very hands on--in the first week we take all the computers apart and put them back together and try moving components around between them. This is something none of them have ever done, even if they have their own computer. This first class always begins with the students nervously huddled around the computers while I urge them to began surgery. After 30 minutes the entrails are spread across the floor and I'm desperately reminding them to work slowly and be gentle.
By the end of the course the students have reinstalled Windows multiple times, worked with a number of Windows maintenance tools, edited the registry, deleted computer viruses, learned some basic networking and, most importantly, used the Internet to search for solutions. This course probably covers too much material and gets too advanced, but I'm hoping to peak their interest in working with computers and give them the confidence to try solving computer problems. These skills, as well as those of the bureautique course, are best learned through repetition in real life situations.
In the second half of the course I give assignments that include creating a CV in Word, using Wikipedia to research various locales and presenting that information in an Excel spreadsheet, using Google to find the answers to a number of obscure questions, and creating invoices and a cost/benefit analysis in Excel based on the work of imaginary businesses.
The second course I have been teaching is on computer maintenance. I really enjoy this because all the students have been so excited by it. It's very hands on--in the first week we take all the computers apart and put them back together and try moving components around between them. This is something none of them have ever done, even if they have their own computer. This first class always begins with the students nervously huddled around the computers while I urge them to began surgery. After 30 minutes the entrails are spread across the floor and I'm desperately reminding them to work slowly and be gentle.
By the end of the course the students have reinstalled Windows multiple times, worked with a number of Windows maintenance tools, edited the registry, deleted computer viruses, learned some basic networking and, most importantly, used the Internet to search for solutions. This course probably covers too much material and gets too advanced, but I'm hoping to peak their interest in working with computers and give them the confidence to try solving computer problems. These skills, as well as those of the bureautique course, are best learned through repetition in real life situations.
mercredi 2 janvier 2008
And the Weekend is...
I went to my friend Youssouf's on Friday afternoon to eat some rice and fish and watch Prisonbreak. During the middle of the third episode he turned to me and said something about Friday and Saturday being the new weekend. We were hanging out, watching TV, getting ready to eat with our hand, so yeah, it was just like the weekend.
Heading home in a taxi the driver said something similar, than I heard it again at a boutique. I figured this must be some Mauritanian proverb I'd either never heard or never been able to understand before.
That evening, I met my friend Angela told me she might have to start teaching on Sundays. Yes, the weekend was now Friday and Saturday. There was talk about this in the Parliament last week, the passed the resolution this week, and announced the news on Friday morning.
Turns out this is the third time they've done this in the last few years. Friday is the Muslim holy day and everything shuts down after the afternoon prayer anyway. What remains to be seen is if anyone actually starts working on Sunday again.
Heading home in a taxi the driver said something similar, than I heard it again at a boutique. I figured this must be some Mauritanian proverb I'd either never heard or never been able to understand before.
That evening, I met my friend Angela told me she might have to start teaching on Sundays. Yes, the weekend was now Friday and Saturday. There was talk about this in the Parliament last week, the passed the resolution this week, and announced the news on Friday morning.
Turns out this is the third time they've done this in the last few years. Friday is the Muslim holy day and everything shuts down after the afternoon prayer anyway. What remains to be seen is if anyone actually starts working on Sunday again.
Why I'm So Popular
In America no one was ever impressed that I lived in America but everyday here in Mauritania I impress everyone I meet by the large Made in America tag sewn somewhere on my body. Maybe I'd pull the thing off if I could find it, maybe not. The fact is, the attention is kind of nice and usually good for a free meal.
For awhile I thought all this attention had more to do with the color of my skin, but that's not it. On regular basis, I'll walk into a room full of strangers and be pretty much ignored, until someone realizes I'm not French or Spanish, but American.[1] Then I become the life of the party for as long as my French holds out.
In the first day of a language class I was taking here in Nouakchott, everyone in the room had to introduce themselves. There were about ten Mauritanian's, two lily white Spaniards, and myself. By the end of class, and every class thereafter, I was the most popular kid in school; everyone wanted my number, wanted to speak English, ask questions, learn all about me, have me over for lunch, for dinner, play with their kids, and visit them at work. The poor Spaniards were totally forgotten and after two weeks they quit coming, probably because they were jealous of me.
Yes, American's are rare in Mauritania, the French are French, and the Spanish dress funny but the real reason I'm so popular is much simpler: Prisonbreak, 24, and Desperate Housewives. Hollywood makes some damn good entertainment, even dubbed over in French, and this has done more than all our military might, industrial superiority, and technological marvels to insure our place in the hearts and minds of the world.
[1]This never takes long. I know my French accent is terrible because all I have to say is Bonjour and everyone immediately asks if I'm American.
For awhile I thought all this attention had more to do with the color of my skin, but that's not it. On regular basis, I'll walk into a room full of strangers and be pretty much ignored, until someone realizes I'm not French or Spanish, but American.[1] Then I become the life of the party for as long as my French holds out.
In the first day of a language class I was taking here in Nouakchott, everyone in the room had to introduce themselves. There were about ten Mauritanian's, two lily white Spaniards, and myself. By the end of class, and every class thereafter, I was the most popular kid in school; everyone wanted my number, wanted to speak English, ask questions, learn all about me, have me over for lunch, for dinner, play with their kids, and visit them at work. The poor Spaniards were totally forgotten and after two weeks they quit coming, probably because they were jealous of me.
Yes, American's are rare in Mauritania, the French are French, and the Spanish dress funny but the real reason I'm so popular is much simpler: Prisonbreak, 24, and Desperate Housewives. Hollywood makes some damn good entertainment, even dubbed over in French, and this has done more than all our military might, industrial superiority, and technological marvels to insure our place in the hearts and minds of the world.
[1]This never takes long. I know my French accent is terrible because all I have to say is Bonjour and everyone immediately asks if I'm American.
White Guy in the Right Place
My friends Cissé, Angela, and I went to a fake traditional Pulaar wedding the other day which was followed by a real traditional march to the quartier's final soccer match. There was a huge crowd, which an armed guard immediately escorted us through, past the crowd control fence and directly to the VIP tent. I shook hands with all the grand boubou wearing officials, took a bottle of water, a seat, watched the game, and continued to shake hands with whomever approached. Shaking hands has been my job for the last six months and I do it well.
After the winning team lifted the trophy in the air and the crowd ran onto the field, the officials pulled me aside and said Something something Ambassade something something something and shook my hand some more.
Moments later, the winning team's captain came up to me with the trophy, shook my hand, hugged me, and asked for a photo. I had my camera out and was happy to oblige, but he pulled me under his arm and a newspaper photographer took the photo instead. More hugs, more shaking hands.
With the help of more armed men, we finally extricated ourselves from the field. Cissé was grinning from ear to ear so I asked him what the hell that was all about. Turns out the German Embassy had paid for the trophy, the tent, the shirts, the water, everything to make the final game special. The officials were even happier that a German Ambassador had decided to come and see the game. I think I look pretty young for an Ambassador, but maybe not. I'm not sure if any of the pictures made it into the paper, but I'm positive some are hanging up on Mauritanian walls.
After the winning team lifted the trophy in the air and the crowd ran onto the field, the officials pulled me aside and said Something something Ambassade something something something and shook my hand some more.
Moments later, the winning team's captain came up to me with the trophy, shook my hand, hugged me, and asked for a photo. I had my camera out and was happy to oblige, but he pulled me under his arm and a newspaper photographer took the photo instead. More hugs, more shaking hands.
With the help of more armed men, we finally extricated ourselves from the field. Cissé was grinning from ear to ear so I asked him what the hell that was all about. Turns out the German Embassy had paid for the trophy, the tent, the shirts, the water, everything to make the final game special. The officials were even happier that a German Ambassador had decided to come and see the game. I think I look pretty young for an Ambassador, but maybe not. I'm not sure if any of the pictures made it into the paper, but I'm positive some are hanging up on Mauritanian walls.
Languages
906 million Africans speak over 1000 languages
730 million Europeans speak 35 languages
279 different languages are spoken in Cameroon; in Zaire - 221, Tanzania - 131, Sudan - 132, Tchad - 127
There are three monolingual African nations – Burundi, Rwanda, and Somalia
There are five multilingual African nations with one or more dominant languages – Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Zaire
In all the other countries, there is no single dominant language.
Continent, % World Population, % World Languages
Africa, 14%, 33%
Europe, 11.3%, 3%
Asia, 60.5%, 30% [1]
Most of these languages are spoken by culturally and, perhaps to a lesser extent, ethnically diverse people. All these numerous tribes and ethnic groups have had complicated relationships, often involving war, subjugation, and slavery. This is illustrated in Mauritania by the Haratins, or Black Moors, the second largest minority after the Hal-Pulaars. They are the descendants of West Africans enslaved by the North African Berbers. Over time, they came to largely share the Moor culture and language while still being seeing as a distinct group.
The borders of Mauritania, as is the case with much of Africa, were drawn from the logic of outsiders—a river here, a mountain range there, longitude, latitude, and treaties with other foreign governments. This ignored the racial and cultural diversity that exists within that arbitrary landmass. Rivers, for example, are rarely borders in traditional societies. Through trade and transportation they connect people together. Although differences may exist along the entire length of a river, the odds are that two villages on directly opposite banks will share the same language and culture. In Mauritania, the south-western border was drawn along the Senegal River, separating the Hal-Pulaar peoples from their cousins in Senegal and giving the country something of a split-personality between the Moorish north and Black African south.
By favoring certain ethnic groups, colonial governments in Africa could take advantage of these relationships to further their own power. This has left a legacy of governments that tend to represent the interests of whomever the colonists worked with. This, combined with numerous languages, uncomfortable borders, and a long history ethnic clashes makes nationalism an especially difficult concept through much of Africa and leads in part to the seemingly endless civil wars in African nations.
[1] I started making all these numbers up, then found them in a recent issue of Aujourd'hui l'Afrique
730 million Europeans speak 35 languages
279 different languages are spoken in Cameroon; in Zaire - 221, Tanzania - 131, Sudan - 132, Tchad - 127
There are three monolingual African nations – Burundi, Rwanda, and Somalia
There are five multilingual African nations with one or more dominant languages – Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Zaire
In all the other countries, there is no single dominant language.
Continent, % World Population, % World Languages
Africa, 14%, 33%
Europe, 11.3%, 3%
Asia, 60.5%, 30% [1]
Most of these languages are spoken by culturally and, perhaps to a lesser extent, ethnically diverse people. All these numerous tribes and ethnic groups have had complicated relationships, often involving war, subjugation, and slavery. This is illustrated in Mauritania by the Haratins, or Black Moors, the second largest minority after the Hal-Pulaars. They are the descendants of West Africans enslaved by the North African Berbers. Over time, they came to largely share the Moor culture and language while still being seeing as a distinct group.
The borders of Mauritania, as is the case with much of Africa, were drawn from the logic of outsiders—a river here, a mountain range there, longitude, latitude, and treaties with other foreign governments. This ignored the racial and cultural diversity that exists within that arbitrary landmass. Rivers, for example, are rarely borders in traditional societies. Through trade and transportation they connect people together. Although differences may exist along the entire length of a river, the odds are that two villages on directly opposite banks will share the same language and culture. In Mauritania, the south-western border was drawn along the Senegal River, separating the Hal-Pulaar peoples from their cousins in Senegal and giving the country something of a split-personality between the Moorish north and Black African south.
By favoring certain ethnic groups, colonial governments in Africa could take advantage of these relationships to further their own power. This has left a legacy of governments that tend to represent the interests of whomever the colonists worked with. This, combined with numerous languages, uncomfortable borders, and a long history ethnic clashes makes nationalism an especially difficult concept through much of Africa and leads in part to the seemingly endless civil wars in African nations.
[1] I started making all these numbers up, then found them in a recent issue of Aujourd'hui l'Afrique
vendredi 28 septembre 2007
Improvements
It rained nearly every night during my last two weeks in Boghe. Each morning, the pools of standing water grew, vibrating with newborn mosquitoes, until most homes had malarial lakes where their yards had been. In some homes, rocks, concrete, bricks, and tires were littered through the water as stepping stones, in others, they simply walked through it. Leaving the only raised, paved road, one entered a maze of water and refuse that had to be patiently navigated, but even the most careful efforts usually ended with at least one foot ankle deep in the brown sludge. The rainy season had arrived and rather than bringing relief from the hot season, it simply made it worse—more humid, more mosquitoes, more flies, more trash, and more smells.
The night after Swearing In, we had a party at a small hotel in Kaedi. Earlier that afternoon, a strong storm passed over and dropped water in a biblical way before continuing east, up the Senegal River towards Mali. By the time we reached the hotel, standing pools of water had to be carefully avoided to reach the outside ballroom/dance floor. There was no moon, no lights, no one had thought to bring a flashlight and the ground, wet or dry, looked the same. All night, volunteers were slipping and falling into the foul smelling water. Although the rain had stopped hours ago, the water continued to rise throughout the night, flowing in from the swollen banks of the river. When I left around midnight, I rolled my pants up and sloshed through the water to the SUV waiting on the road, the driver unwilling to risk bringing the vehicle any closer. Passing by the hotel two days later, I noticed the water was even higher, even though it hadn't rained anymore.
This flooding occurs every year during the brief rainy season. Everyone knows it's coming and everyone has ten months to prepare for it—to install pumps, improve drainage, raise land, build retaining walls—but nothing is done. I made this observation to another volunteer, who pointed out that there are so many things standing in the way of such work—no equipment or technical knowledge, no private industry or government support, and, of course, no money. I made the argument that the desire to improve living conditions was what created these missing elements—technical knowledge is gained through trial and error, the investments made build an industry, jobs, and market. It seems most inventions and infrastructure are the result of a desire to make life safer, easier, and more comfortable.
Obviously, I'm simplifying a complicated process. Consider what flood control efforts have done to the Mississippi river—radically changing the river's natural course, leaving the Gulf Coast and huge watersheds vulnerable to storms, and sinking New Orleans ten feet below sea level. None of these consequences were considered, or even imagined, when all the various flood control projects, small and large, local, state, and federal, were put into place all along the length of the river. Each project identified one issue, or a small set of issues, such as seasonal flooding of Missouri farms or navigability for barges along a bend in the river, and successfully resolved those issues. Over time, the unintended consequences of each individual project have combined to create major environmental issues for which there's no simple solution. Perhaps, living with two months of flooding each year isn't such a bad option, at least until we're able to understand problems, solutions, and consequences on a large enough scale, but I'm glad I don't have to live beside the Senegal River until then.
The night after Swearing In, we had a party at a small hotel in Kaedi. Earlier that afternoon, a strong storm passed over and dropped water in a biblical way before continuing east, up the Senegal River towards Mali. By the time we reached the hotel, standing pools of water had to be carefully avoided to reach the outside ballroom/dance floor. There was no moon, no lights, no one had thought to bring a flashlight and the ground, wet or dry, looked the same. All night, volunteers were slipping and falling into the foul smelling water. Although the rain had stopped hours ago, the water continued to rise throughout the night, flowing in from the swollen banks of the river. When I left around midnight, I rolled my pants up and sloshed through the water to the SUV waiting on the road, the driver unwilling to risk bringing the vehicle any closer. Passing by the hotel two days later, I noticed the water was even higher, even though it hadn't rained anymore.
This flooding occurs every year during the brief rainy season. Everyone knows it's coming and everyone has ten months to prepare for it—to install pumps, improve drainage, raise land, build retaining walls—but nothing is done. I made this observation to another volunteer, who pointed out that there are so many things standing in the way of such work—no equipment or technical knowledge, no private industry or government support, and, of course, no money. I made the argument that the desire to improve living conditions was what created these missing elements—technical knowledge is gained through trial and error, the investments made build an industry, jobs, and market. It seems most inventions and infrastructure are the result of a desire to make life safer, easier, and more comfortable.
Obviously, I'm simplifying a complicated process. Consider what flood control efforts have done to the Mississippi river—radically changing the river's natural course, leaving the Gulf Coast and huge watersheds vulnerable to storms, and sinking New Orleans ten feet below sea level. None of these consequences were considered, or even imagined, when all the various flood control projects, small and large, local, state, and federal, were put into place all along the length of the river. Each project identified one issue, or a small set of issues, such as seasonal flooding of Missouri farms or navigability for barges along a bend in the river, and successfully resolved those issues. Over time, the unintended consequences of each individual project have combined to create major environmental issues for which there's no simple solution. Perhaps, living with two months of flooding each year isn't such a bad option, at least until we're able to understand problems, solutions, and consequences on a large enough scale, but I'm glad I don't have to live beside the Senegal River until then.
To Hell with Good Intentions
This is a link to the text of a speech we read and briefly discussed during our last Pre-Service Training session. It's very critical of American volunteer organizations, and, although some of the references are dated, it still presents many arguments that PCVs should consider during their service.
I'll post my response to it in a few days. I'd be interested to know how others react to it.
To Hell with Good Intentions
I'll post my response to it in a few days. I'd be interested to know how others react to it.
To Hell with Good Intentions
vendredi 14 septembre 2007
Nouakchott
Training is over, I passed my language tests, completed my projects, and have been sworn in to the Peace Corps. I'm in Nouakchott now, where I'll be living for the next two years.
I wrote everything here over the last three months in Boghe. Due to the poor internet connection there, I wasn't able to post them until now. They are in roughly chronological order with the earliest entries at the bottom. I'm not sure these posts will make much sense to anyone that hasn't been here, but I hope you find them interesting. If you have any questions, please ask!
I wrote everything here over the last three months in Boghe. Due to the poor internet connection there, I wasn't able to post them until now. They are in roughly chronological order with the earliest entries at the bottom. I'm not sure these posts will make much sense to anyone that hasn't been here, but I hope you find them interesting. If you have any questions, please ask!
Top 5 Mauritanian Kids Toys
Tandem Model Horse Stick – Capable of carrying two kids at a nice gallop. Good tandem model horse sticks should be at least two and half times the length of a standard model stick horse. Riders must cooperate and rear rider should follow the lead of the front rider at all times. When toubabs with cameras approach, tandem stick horses are prone to fall to the ground, leaving their riders unscathed, but fleeing from the scene.[1]
Horse Tail – I admit, I don't really get this one. I'm not sure if I'm more disgusted than amused by it, but it seems to say something about how children can find ways to amuse themselves. First, a child must save 20 UM and choose to spend it on a horse tail rather than a stick of bubble gum or a cigarette.[2] Horse tail can be purchased at many fine boutiques at your local market. Horse tail can be played with immediately; it's good for both hitting things, like little sisters, or it can be slowly pulled apart, hair by hair. Loose horse hair can then get into anything, it's especially fun to pull out things like dinner, or one's mouth.
Metal Hoop and Rod – The metal hoop is placed in a small hook at the end of the rod and the child begins to run while pushing the hoop. If all goes well, speed of hoop and child increases until terminal velocity is reached and hoop makes delightful rattling sound against the road's surface. Theoretically, the child could push the hoop to Nouakchott, but it usually brought up short by a rock in the road or a speeding Mercedes coming within inches of taking his life. The metal hoops come from an unknown source and vary widely in quality. It is not uncommon to see a hoop with a break in its length. These are much harder, if not impossible to roll more than a single rotation as the push rod invariably falls into the break in the hoop. This doesn't stop kids from attempting to use it and they may en joy the added challenge.
Old Car Tire – Why just walk somewhere when you can push a tire there too? Thanks to the resourcefulness of Mauritanian children, the lifespan of old car tires can be extended almost indefinitely. Sometimes two kids will meet in the street and talk about there tires—where they came from, there they're going, what other tires that saw on their way.[3]
Detergent Bottle[4] and Condensed Milk Can Car – Does it get any more adorable than this? What do you do when you live in a dump? You find a detergent bottle, four condensed milk cans, bits of scrap metal and you build yourself a car to push around town or, if you prefer, back and forth in one spot. Best of all, detergent bottles come in three bright, primary colors, so you car can be red, yellow, or blue!
[1] Soon after writing this, I saw a triple decker horse stick. Later that day I saw another triple decker with a fourth child hanging on to the horse's tail. The head rider had the horse running in a wide circle, trying to catch it's tail and knock his annoying little brother off.
[2] UM – Ouguiya, the Mauritanian currency. Cigarettes are sold individually here and anyone, of any age, can purchase them.
[3] I saw a three tire pile up after an especially bad storm had flooded out an intersection. No one was hurt but tires and children were very wet.
[4] Further research revealed these are not actually detergent bottles, but diesel motor oil containers. They look the same, but the fact that kids are playing with and, no doubt, spilling motor oil all over themselves adds to the pure Mauritanian quality of this toy.
Horse Tail – I admit, I don't really get this one. I'm not sure if I'm more disgusted than amused by it, but it seems to say something about how children can find ways to amuse themselves. First, a child must save 20 UM and choose to spend it on a horse tail rather than a stick of bubble gum or a cigarette.[2] Horse tail can be purchased at many fine boutiques at your local market. Horse tail can be played with immediately; it's good for both hitting things, like little sisters, or it can be slowly pulled apart, hair by hair. Loose horse hair can then get into anything, it's especially fun to pull out things like dinner, or one's mouth.
Metal Hoop and Rod – The metal hoop is placed in a small hook at the end of the rod and the child begins to run while pushing the hoop. If all goes well, speed of hoop and child increases until terminal velocity is reached and hoop makes delightful rattling sound against the road's surface. Theoretically, the child could push the hoop to Nouakchott, but it usually brought up short by a rock in the road or a speeding Mercedes coming within inches of taking his life. The metal hoops come from an unknown source and vary widely in quality. It is not uncommon to see a hoop with a break in its length. These are much harder, if not impossible to roll more than a single rotation as the push rod invariably falls into the break in the hoop. This doesn't stop kids from attempting to use it and they may en joy the added challenge.
Old Car Tire – Why just walk somewhere when you can push a tire there too? Thanks to the resourcefulness of Mauritanian children, the lifespan of old car tires can be extended almost indefinitely. Sometimes two kids will meet in the street and talk about there tires—where they came from, there they're going, what other tires that saw on their way.[3]
Detergent Bottle[4] and Condensed Milk Can Car – Does it get any more adorable than this? What do you do when you live in a dump? You find a detergent bottle, four condensed milk cans, bits of scrap metal and you build yourself a car to push around town or, if you prefer, back and forth in one spot. Best of all, detergent bottles come in three bright, primary colors, so you car can be red, yellow, or blue!
[1] Soon after writing this, I saw a triple decker horse stick. Later that day I saw another triple decker with a fourth child hanging on to the horse's tail. The head rider had the horse running in a wide circle, trying to catch it's tail and knock his annoying little brother off.
[2] UM – Ouguiya, the Mauritanian currency. Cigarettes are sold individually here and anyone, of any age, can purchase them.
[3] I saw a three tire pile up after an especially bad storm had flooded out an intersection. No one was hurt but tires and children were very wet.
[4] Further research revealed these are not actually detergent bottles, but diesel motor oil containers. They look the same, but the fact that kids are playing with and, no doubt, spilling motor oil all over themselves adds to the pure Mauritanian quality of this toy.
America
Everyone wants to go to America. It's the first thing they tell me when they learn where I'm from. One man told me it was his destiny to see New York before he dies. Another asked me if it was true you could make money by sleeping in America. Many people tell me about their brothers and sisters living in the States. They want to visit them, but it's very hard; even if you can afford it, the visas are impossible to get. People tell me, without a second thought, that life in the United States is better. Life in Mauritania is difficult, there's no money, no opportunities, nothing to do.
I tell them that life in the United States isn't better or worse, but very different. I try to point out all the good things here that mare missing in America: the strong communities, the closeness of families and friends, the strong spiritual quality of life. I explain that most people in America work very hard and still don't make much money. It's difficult to be poor anywhere in the world.
But who am I kidding? They see the huge, new houses built from money sent back from family in the States. They see the cars, computers, and cell phones, shipped from the US and bought with American Dollars. Brothers and sisters in America, even if they're poor, seem to have money to spare. Their children go to school, receive quality (albeit unaffordable) health care, eat well, grow strong, maybe go to college, and probably never come back to Mauritania. And even while I denied that you could make money in your sleep, I thought of my employee matched 401K, transferred over the Internet before leaving, to an IRA mutual fund, earning 15 to 20% interest on emerging markets and tech stocks. So, yeah, I am making money in my sleep and I'll be making money for the next two years without doing anything except noting it on a few tax forms.
There's an idea in the United States that anything is possible, it just takes hard work and a little luck. Even leaving the US isn't very hard. I just researched my options, filled out some forms, did a few interviews and then I was on a plane for Africa. That some optimism doesn't exist here. People think it's difficult, if not impossible, to achieve what they want, assuming they want anything at all, so why even try? What's really unfortunate is that the most educated people I've met—my host father, the language facilitators, doctors at the hospital—they want to leave Mauritania the most. I think to myself, “Can't you stay here and make things better while achieving the things you want?” But what can I say when my host father comes home exhausted and tells me, “This country will never change. The people are lazy, they don't want to work, there's so much corruption.”
I tell them that life in the United States isn't better or worse, but very different. I try to point out all the good things here that mare missing in America: the strong communities, the closeness of families and friends, the strong spiritual quality of life. I explain that most people in America work very hard and still don't make much money. It's difficult to be poor anywhere in the world.
But who am I kidding? They see the huge, new houses built from money sent back from family in the States. They see the cars, computers, and cell phones, shipped from the US and bought with American Dollars. Brothers and sisters in America, even if they're poor, seem to have money to spare. Their children go to school, receive quality (albeit unaffordable) health care, eat well, grow strong, maybe go to college, and probably never come back to Mauritania. And even while I denied that you could make money in your sleep, I thought of my employee matched 401K, transferred over the Internet before leaving, to an IRA mutual fund, earning 15 to 20% interest on emerging markets and tech stocks. So, yeah, I am making money in my sleep and I'll be making money for the next two years without doing anything except noting it on a few tax forms.
There's an idea in the United States that anything is possible, it just takes hard work and a little luck. Even leaving the US isn't very hard. I just researched my options, filled out some forms, did a few interviews and then I was on a plane for Africa. That some optimism doesn't exist here. People think it's difficult, if not impossible, to achieve what they want, assuming they want anything at all, so why even try? What's really unfortunate is that the most educated people I've met—my host father, the language facilitators, doctors at the hospital—they want to leave Mauritania the most. I think to myself, “Can't you stay here and make things better while achieving the things you want?” But what can I say when my host father comes home exhausted and tells me, “This country will never change. The people are lazy, they don't want to work, there's so much corruption.”
Proverbs
There are two villages about 5km from Boghe called Thide and Thienel and there's a Pulaar proverb that goes, "Thide et Thienel fof ko merorde Boghe."
This translates as, “Don't talk about Thide and Thienel when you mean to talk about Boghe.” Basically, say what you mean, don't beat around the bush. I like this proverb because it could be easily Americanized, maybe using the Quad Cities in Iowa.
I asked my host father for some more Pulaar proverbs and here's what he gave me.
KoTongou Dassi fof ko Tepere jo moure areta Ta.
This one translates as, “Whatever path you choose will take you where you're going.” That is, you are responsible for yourself.
So goumdo fof Woumi Woumeti andi ko guete nafata
This he translated as, “If you are blind and you regain your sight, you will know what you were missing.” He explained it as,"If you lose something, you'll appreciate it more once it's gone."
So lafa Wati Bouchada Gandi Wedade Bourydoum
This is my favorite because the literal translation I was given is so strange. My host father translated it as, “If you're wearing a hat and the hat is eating your brain, take the hat off.” I think that means that if something is bothering you, you need to fix it yourself.
This translates as, “Don't talk about Thide and Thienel when you mean to talk about Boghe.” Basically, say what you mean, don't beat around the bush. I like this proverb because it could be easily Americanized, maybe using the Quad Cities in Iowa.
I asked my host father for some more Pulaar proverbs and here's what he gave me.
KoTongou Dassi fof ko Tepere jo moure areta Ta.
This one translates as, “Whatever path you choose will take you where you're going.” That is, you are responsible for yourself.
So goumdo fof Woumi Woumeti andi ko guete nafata
This he translated as, “If you are blind and you regain your sight, you will know what you were missing.” He explained it as,"If you lose something, you'll appreciate it more once it's gone."
So lafa Wati Bouchada Gandi Wedade Bourydoum
This is my favorite because the literal translation I was given is so strange. My host father translated it as, “If you're wearing a hat and the hat is eating your brain, take the hat off.” I think that means that if something is bothering you, you need to fix it yourself.
Prayers
I'm writing this as a member of my host family performs his afternoon prayers directly in front of me. My host mother is in the front yard, washing herself in preparation for her prayers. In the next thirty minutes, ever since the last prayer calls sounded across Boghe, I'm sure I'll see everyone in my house bow towards Mecca three times.[1] While they do this, the TV will remain on, guests will visit the house, and everyone will continue their discussions around those in prayer.
When I first arrived at my host family, I tried to disappear whenever I saw prayers beginning. Some sessions of Peace Corps cultural training gave me the impression that prayers, and all religious functions, were off-limits to non-Muslims. I remember being told that stepping in front of someone praying, between them and Mecca, was extremely rude, much less interrupting them in some way. But I've seen card games and soccer matches continue directly in front of those praying. I've seen prayers interrupted to answer a phone call or help someone find something. I still try to follow the general precepts of respectful behavior, but I no longer go out of my way to disappear to my room or leave the house when someone begins their prayers. It only draws attention to our differences and, in my house at least, it's not necessary.[2]
I know the prayers are a spiritual act, but I imagine anything you do five times a day, everyday, begins to feel simply like a part of life, a routine activity like bathing and eating. Whether this diminishes its spiritual power or imbues daily life with a spiritual quality, I don't know.
[1] Muslims pray five times a day, at dawn, mid-day, late afternoon, dusk, and at night. Prayers can be made at a Mosque, at home, in the street, anywhere. Generally, they lay out a prayer mat facing towards Mecca and recite the Profession of Faith: Lah ilaha illallah Mohammaurrasulallh – There is no God but God and Mohamed is his prophet. Between each recitation, they bow to Mecca by prostrating themselves and touching their forehead to the ground.
[2] This was also difficult to do because my room was on the east end of the house and everyone laid their prayer mats out in front of my bedroom door. If I tried to hide in my room when my family prayed, I had to walk directly in front of them and open my door in their faces. Since the prayers can vary in length and everyone can start at different times, I would then spend the next thirty minutes to an hour poking my head out the door, between their prayer mats and Mecca, to see if anyone was still praying.
When I first arrived at my host family, I tried to disappear whenever I saw prayers beginning. Some sessions of Peace Corps cultural training gave me the impression that prayers, and all religious functions, were off-limits to non-Muslims. I remember being told that stepping in front of someone praying, between them and Mecca, was extremely rude, much less interrupting them in some way. But I've seen card games and soccer matches continue directly in front of those praying. I've seen prayers interrupted to answer a phone call or help someone find something. I still try to follow the general precepts of respectful behavior, but I no longer go out of my way to disappear to my room or leave the house when someone begins their prayers. It only draws attention to our differences and, in my house at least, it's not necessary.[2]
I know the prayers are a spiritual act, but I imagine anything you do five times a day, everyday, begins to feel simply like a part of life, a routine activity like bathing and eating. Whether this diminishes its spiritual power or imbues daily life with a spiritual quality, I don't know.
[1] Muslims pray five times a day, at dawn, mid-day, late afternoon, dusk, and at night. Prayers can be made at a Mosque, at home, in the street, anywhere. Generally, they lay out a prayer mat facing towards Mecca and recite the Profession of Faith: Lah ilaha illallah Mohammaurrasulallh – There is no God but God and Mohamed is his prophet. Between each recitation, they bow to Mecca by prostrating themselves and touching their forehead to the ground.
[2] This was also difficult to do because my room was on the east end of the house and everyone laid their prayer mats out in front of my bedroom door. If I tried to hide in my room when my family prayed, I had to walk directly in front of them and open my door in their faces. Since the prayers can vary in length and everyone can start at different times, I would then spend the next thirty minutes to an hour poking my head out the door, between their prayer mats and Mecca, to see if anyone was still praying.
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