Madame ou Mademoiselle?

A Lesson About Past Actions While Trying to Ignore Present Actions As Recounted By Mohamed

2012-01-24T14:09:00.000-08:00

Today my second year students started their student teaching. I saw one of my students this evening and he recounted this story of his day at the school:

"Whilethe mentor-teacher was in the room the class was good and the students behavedappropriately. Everything was going all right and the interaction between thestudents and the teacher was good. The students followed directions and theylistened to the instructions.

Thestudent teacher’s lesson was wonderful. The topic of the day was "past actions." He explained the directions first inthe beginning of the class. For example, he said that the students don’t needto say, “Teacher, me” but instead can just raise their hands and they will allbe called. Throughout the lesson the students behaved responsibly.

The student teacher used the blackboard very well to demonstrate the vocabulary. The word “childhood” was written on the board. Then the student teacherdivided it into two words and asked the class, “Do you know the word child?”“No,” the students responded. “Do you know the word children?” The studentssaid, “Yes!” The student teacher added, “So children is the plural of the wordchild, and then childhood is the term to describe the state of being a child.” The students all nodded and understood the term.

Less than one hour before the end of school day, at 13:00, the mentor-teacher announced that she was leaving the room. Not more than ten minutes after she left, the class turned upside down. When the mentor teacher left, she took the students with her, substituting 40 devils in their place. Studentsstarted talk wildly, grab each other’s clothes, and endlessly commented on Turkishtelevision series. One girl event insulted the student teacher’s labjacket (which he is required to wear), saying, “He thinks of himself as a doctor!” All of the students were laughing.

Thestudent teacher could not finish the production stage of the lesson. Thingswere unbearable and the student teacher looked forward for the time of class tobe over. Inthe midst of the craziness, the student teacher sat down, and started correctingthe students’ papers. He later said that he deliberately chose to ignore thestudents’ noise explaining that, “I shut my eyes so that the students wouldn’teven know that I saw them and the way that they were acting.” He added that he knew that there was no way to control the students so he decided to focus on helping the few students in the front of the room who wanted to learn.

Finally, the end of the class arrived but not before the students took away the young teacher’s soul."

Professional Hand-Shaker

2012-01-23T07:47:00.001-08:00

Ilive in a country where most religiously conservative men don’t shake handswith women. Since many men are religiously conservative, many men won’t shakehands with me. At first, this was a difficult adjustment for me because everyother country in Africa where I lived placed a high value on shaking hands atevery encounter. After so many years of living and working with the AfricanDiaspora, I became a professional hand-shaker.

Myfirst months in Mauritania were filled with many awkward moments of holding outmy hand and having it suspended there untouched, in mid-air. This movement isnot easy to take back. It was always followed by an uncomfortablesilence.

Now,the first time I meet someone I try to remember to wait until he offers hishand to me. Yet even after more than two years here, I still find myself inawkward situations. Some Mauritanians do shake hands and feel offended by myfailure to offer my hand right away. The delayed hand-shaking situation istricky to navigate. Usually I try to pretend that I simply didn’t see the handoffered. I try to smile to make up for this perceived rudeness on my part and Itry to remember to offer my hand to this man the next time I see him. In myhead I have a running list of who shakes hands and who does not and every timeI see someone I try to remember. I am always delighted to see a woman becausethankfully all women shake hands with other women!

Ihave formed strong friendships with many of my students. For those who don’tshake hands, I am careful to never touch them. However, we have devised our ownway of shaking hands without touching. My student will offer me one-half of hisbook, cell phone, or other object and I will grasp the other half. We “shake”the object and show our appreciation to the other person while still respectingthe divide between us. This code has never been broken. I have never questionedit. I am happy to have a secret handshake with students and of course I want torespect their cultural values.

InDecember I organized a workshop for 155 teachers teaching throughout thecountry. The Ministry of Education selected the teachers to participate. I amnot sure why, but they chose many of the newest teachers. This meant that I wasreunited with many of my former students. It was a happy reunion and I was soproud to see my students enter into their professional roles. I was especiallythrilled to see them take a leadership role when working with other moreexperienced teachers.

Someof the students are teaching as far away as 1,500 kilometers from Nouakchott.Because many of them teach in the areas where their families also live, theydon’t have a reason to travel all the way to the capitol city during breaks.That means that I may never see certain students again. This makes me sadbecause after spending two years together, often more than 20 hours per week,we have become close friends.

Onthe last day of the workshop, many of the students expressed their appreciationfor everything we learned together over the past two years. It was time for anothergoodbye. Another celebration. Another graduation.

Oneof the most conservative students in my classes came to say goodbye to me. Hewas traveling the same day that the workshop ended, anxious to get back to hisvillage. He had two full days of traveling ahead of him. We both knew that weprobably would not see each other again. I told him to travel safely, greet hisfamily for me, and stay in touch. He nodded and told me the same.

Iheld out a notebook, our usual tradition, and he grasped the other half. Thenhe pulled the notebook from my hands and offered me his hand in its place.Shocked, I stared at his hand, and he offered it again. I held his hand forjust a moment and tears started streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t explainwhy but I knew that I would never forget the encounter; my student’swillingness to break a cultural/religious boundary to show a genuine feeling offriendship.

Market Treasures

2012-01-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about Africa is the amazing markets. There are endless treasures to find, like this amazing bargain-priced Panasonic, I mean, Panmic stereo!

This is the textile building in Cotonou... imagine the magic of three floors filled with African fabric! The last time I was there I spent three hours inside the labyrinth and I barely scratched the surface!

One of the highlights was finding a vendor selling Nigerian woven fabrics and she was happy to dig in the massive mountain of cloth to find some scraps for me to use as scarves. I was delighted at first but as I was deciding on the best pieces I felt that crazy "just buy it all" frenzied-shopping-feeling and I nearly walked away empty-handed. She expertly roped me back in and now I wish I would have bought more...

Of course I had a difficult time deciding on the print of the wax fabric, the sheer quantity of choices overwhelmed me and I also almost left without making any purchases. In the end I chose a couple simple designs and was proud of myself for not completely indulging in my love of textiles. It is so easy to do but I already don't know what to do with the piles of fabric I have at home...

Next time I hope this fabric goddess smiles down upon me and points me in the direction of more gems! African markets are indeed fabulous places!

Where I'm From

2012-01-12T14:15:00.000-08:00

I love doing creative writing projects with my students. I view these projects as an essential part of developing a sense of community in our class and also modeling for my students how these types of projects can fit into any curriculum. I hope that my teacher-trainees will one day encourage their students to express themselves creatively as well. Right now, there is little of this happening in Mauritanian classrooms.

I am lucky to have a new group of first year students who are passionate and open-minded. We spent the first day of class writing "Where I'm From" poems, after we listened to a recording of George Ella Lyon reading her poem that provided inspiration. We have also started recording our own poems. Here are a few of the students' wonderful poems!

I Am From -Mikailou by deeleeya

I Am From - Sekou by deeleeya

I Am From - Sarr by deeleeya

I am From - Habib by deeleeya

We Count the Same

2012-01-07T06:45:00.000-08:00

The highlight of my visit to Northern Benin was meeting the people who live there. I loved the Tata Somba houses, many of which were over 100 years old.

I also loved visiting a Fula compound and meeting the distant relatives of my friends in Mauritania. Fula people live in 18 countries throughout West and Central Africa. In many countries, like Benin, they are primarily still living as pastoralists, but even the family we visited had a small area for agriculture.

When I told one of the women of the household that I lived in Mauritania and asked her if she knew where it was, she thought for a second and then responded, "the place with the big river." She was exactly correct! When I tried practicing my morning greetings in Pulaar, she smiled a little and repeated the words I said quietly under her breath, "jam wali." She understood but didn't use the same phrase. When I told her "ajarama," meaning thank you she didn't understand at all. I asked the guide how to say thank you and he asked her. She said, "gole." I explained that gole means "work" in Mauritania. She smiled again and said that it means work in their dialect as well. So they use the same word to mean both "work" and "thank you." I guess that perhaps good work and thank you can be used interchangeably, although I don't usually think of the word in that way.

The breakthrough came when I counted the number of houses in the courtyard and another woman counted along with me. The numbers in both dialects are exactly the same. It was so amazing to travel so far from the villages in Mauritania and find someone who speaks the same language. It showed me how strong the roots are that bind people together and how resilient language can be. Despite many generations of separation, language proves that Fula people in Benin and Mauritania are the same.

Like Chocolate

2012-01-07T04:05:00.000-08:00

During my recent trip to Benin I was really amazed to see shea butter trees. I have bought shea butter many times but never visited a place where it actually grows. Shea butter is sold across Africa, usually in the form of an enormous, yellow mountain. The vendor uses a big knife to cut off the amount that the customer wants to buy. The shea butter has a strong, not entirely pleasant smell.

I was intrigued to watch a woman pound the butter in it's natural state. I was surprised to see that it looked, smelled, and even tasted like chocolate. I had no idea!

The butter is pounded until smooth and then it is boiled until it separates. The final product is a light, soft, yellow cream. Locally, it seemed to be primarily used in cooking as the oil in sauces, etc. It is also used on the outside of houses to keep the walls strong and water proof. Of course it is also used as a skin cream and hair treatment. I bought about a pound of it at the market for less than a dollar. It was wrapped in leaves, soaked in water, and rolled into little balls. Luxurious! I will definitely not be using this precious cream in my cooking!

Don't go chasing waterfalls...

2011-12-31T05:42:00.000-08:00

...Unless you are in Benin!

Holiday Travels

2011-12-31T05:07:00.000-08:00

I love traveling. This year for the holiday break I decided to visit Benin again, only this time as a tourist in the North of the country. I never made it there while I lived there from 2002-2004. Every time I tried to travel in Benin I would get a 104 degree fever, call the Peace Corps doctor, and follow his orders to come to his office immediately. This time around, there were no fevers, no doctors, and no worries.

I had a lovely time meeting new friends and observing the tourist scene. The biggest attraction in the area is the game park, promoted in Benin as the "best game park in West Africa." After a full day of driving around the park I concluded that the lack of animals was disappointing, especially compared to parks in East Africa. However, I found watching the humans to be even more interesting. I liked seeing the tourists cruising around in their 4x4 vehicles, decked out in their safari outfits.

I reveled in the rivalry between the guides. The highlight was when one vehicle sped past us, covered us in dust (we were in the back of an old pick-up truck), and then later while gazing at the empty watering hole, bragged about seeing three elephants moments before we arrived. Our guide, Francois, looked at the ground and turned to his vehicle. Life is not easy for guides in Park Penjari, where competition for glimpses of elephants, lions, and hippos is fierce. I was proud of Francois for taking the high road and maintaining his professionalism. Back in car, our team was less polite, calling the other guides liars, jerks, and cheats.

The low point of the day came when our guide stopped at a field station building and told us that there were some cool statues of animals in the back. We declined the offer and bitterly complained that if we didn't see the big animals soon, there would be hell to pay! By the end of the day, we had seen all the animals, except lions. We saw crocodiles, baboons, monkeys, antelopes, gazelles, deer, many birds, elephants and last but not least, hippos. Although the animals were far away, hiding behind trees, and smaller than we imagined them to be, we drove back Nattitangou in high spirits. Our guide did right and we saw the best the park had to offer that day....

Back at the hotel, the tourists bragged about their victories and complained about the lack of organization of the park and country in general. The driver of an oversized SUV grumbled that he wasn't able to hunt this expedition, while the others nodded and wished him better luck next time. The attitude of many of the tourists reminded me of colonial times. The safari vests only reinforced the image. In the end, I felt happy to know that I am NOT like most of the tourists we encountered. One day in the park was enough for me!

December Workshopping

2011-12-23T03:21:00.000-08:00

I was insanely busy in December coordinating a series of three 5-day workshops, reaching a total of 155 teachers.

It was a very busy month! Meeting teachers from throughout the country is one of my favorite aspects of my work here. Helping to build teachers' capacities and strengthen their skills is the reason I am here.

At the end of the month I was exhausted but felt a great sense of achievement. The highlight was seeing many of my former students again. It was wonderful to reconnect with them and hear all about their lives in their villages where they teach. During one of the workshops we wrote haiku poems and at the end of the workshop, one student presented me with a haiku poem that he wrote:

The Last Word by deeleeya

Two other former student shared poems that they wrote for the workshops as well:
My Teaching Journey by deeleeya

The Poor Teacher by deeleeya

One teacher wrote this poem as well:

Acknowledgements

By Ibrahima Khalidou NDiaye

English Teacher in Oualata

Nancy, Merci!

Day after day

For five days

The courageous Mauritanian English teachers

Have gained from your experience

More than one billion skills

To achieve their proud goal.

But what is sad,

Let me tell you

It’s your hand and ours

Will say bye, bye

However,

Don’t worry about

Of course, you’ve left

But never lost

Because you’ve left most

Which will stay on forever

Nancy, thanks!

Nancy, merci!

Delia

Go ahead!

Absolutely useful for Mauritania

Dear colleagues

Try and use

What never wastes the time

Thanks to the Ministry of Education

Hallelujah to the U.S. Embassy

All in all, the workshops provided a meaningful end of a productive year. I hope that I am able to accomplish even more in 2012. I have my work cut out for me!

Cooking Class: Maro Lidi

2011-11-29T05:44:00.001-08:00

I just returned from five days in a village near Kaedi, in the Southwest of Mauritania. The weather was surprisingly nice and I found myself with a lot of energy. I read two books, six national geographic magazines from start to finish, and started cooking classes. My teacher is a very charismatic and charming 15-year-old, the daughter of a good friend in New York. She was a patient teacher. We made rice and fish.

Here are the directions:

Clean and cut the vegetables

Fan the fire

Clean & prepare the fish

Grind onion, garlic, black pepper, and hot peppers

Put mixture inside fish (under skin)

Fry the fish in oil

Cook until brown

Add vegetables to mixture

Add 2 liters of water to pot

Add hibiscus flowers

Cover and cook about twenty minutes

Keep on high heat

Wash and clean rice, then add to colander on top of cooking fish & vegetables

Steam rice about twenty minutes

Remove fish and vegetables from pot

Add rice to pot to cook in liquid from rice and vegetables

After rice is finished cooking, put everything together

Carry to the table and serve!

Bioluminescent Bonfire

2011-11-20T05:04:00.001-08:00

One of my favorite people in Nouakchott wanted to have a bonfire on the beach. So last Friday we grabbed our drums, tea set, mats, and music and headed for the sea.

We danced and sang while drinking tea and watching the crackling wood glowing in the moonless night. We practiced our coupe decaler moves and tasted the perfect balance of green tea and peppermint leaves. We cheered and clapped along with our talented drummer. We laughed and ate cookies until our stomachs ached.

Before departing, we went to visit the sea. When I put my feet in the water I was surprised to see glowing sparks of light. I picked up a handful of sand and watched as the lights flickered and slowly disappeared. I looked at the waves and noticed that they were especially bright, as if there was a black light shining above us.

Meanwhile, the police in Nouakchott have closed down all of the nightclubs in preparation for the big Independence holiday next week. Yet it is almost as if the plankton wanted us to have our own party. They provided a magnificent dance floor and the sky's infinite stars became our disco ball.

That night we celebrated our own independence. We all felt a serene sense of freedom emerging from the wonder and magic of every day life.

Pomegranites

2011-11-15T07:23:00.001-08:00

Today I bought a pomegranite at the Moroccan market. I wrote a little poem in my head as I nibbled on the perfectly sweet seeds:

Pomegranite

I want to wear you

Long strand of precious rubies

Reflecting the sun

Lest you might lay him under a curse

2011-11-14T07:37:00.001-08:00

Today I learned some words of wisdom from the Mauritania 6th year English textbook:

"In the north, for example, you'd better not strike anyone with a rosary because that may cause him/her to be sterile and barren!"

"In the center, you are not advised to tread on dirt and soil for demons might be there, and therefore they may go off with you!"

"In the North West, never call out somebody's name while he's leaving his house lest you might lay him under a curse."

"In the West, avoid the word "black", especially when you're traveling because you might undergo horrible accidents or much suffering when you mention that word."

Of rocks and camels

2011-11-13T03:43:00.001-08:00

I carried a basket in myhands on the first day of school. I asked the students to guess what was in thebasket. Of course, they all predicted that it contained sweets and treats. When Irevealed the contents, a pile of rocks, they all looked disappointed.Their faces became even more despairing when I described the next task: Pick arock and explain why you chose this rock and one thing that you and the rockhave in common.

I explained to the class that I pickedthese rocks from my recent travels to the ancient cities of Chinguetti andOuadane. I selected a rock and shared a story about why this particular rock wasimportant to me. I was subsequently very relieved when each student picked a rock and started talking amongst themselves and bragging about the qualities of their individual rocks (I never know how well students will cooperatewith my requests, especially when teaching ADULTS).

One by one, the students came to the front of the class to present their rocks. They each provided powerful examples of how the rocks reminded them of their childhoods. I was surprised to hear the students' strong connections to these rocks, although uponreflection of course I shouldn’t have been.

One student showed the classhow a rock with a reddish tint can be used as a sort of crayon to write onother rocks. He described how he used these same rocks to draw and make pictures. As he was talking, I was thinking about how he probably didn't have access to paper and markers, the way that most kids in the U.S. would have.

One of my most shy studentsshared a wonderful story about how as a child he played with small rocks,exactly like the one he selected from the basket, to symbolize camels. When I asked him to explain how, heshowed the class how he lined the rocks in a row and moved them one by one, asin a caravan.

The rest of the class nodded along and it was clear that many inthe room grew up playing the same game. The imagery was so vivid that suddenly I saw thisstudent as a boy in front of me, playing with his camels. For a few moments, wewere all transported to our youths.

Next, a student told us howshe used the rocks in a game, similar to the American game of jacks. I made avideo of three little girls playing this game during a recent visit to Fouta:

Another student picked a rockthat had three colors and then showed us how his skin in the palm of his hand,forearm, and fingernail contained the exact same three colors.

I was surprised to hear thatthe students from every part of the country (from Atar to Kaedi, Nouadhibou, Kiffa, Ayoun, and Nema) described playing with similar rocks aschildren. Although my students represent all regions of Mauritania (and all ethnic groups), these rocks represented a commonality between all students.

By the end of the activity, I was speechless. I was so touched that I didn't even remember to explain to the students why I brought these rocks to class in the first place: To share my summer travels with each student (by giving them a very small souvenir to take home), provide a talking point for each student to discuss, and model how, as teachers, they can use anything (something as simple and abundant as rocks) as teaching aids. The students' own responses to the rocks were much more significant than anything I ever imagined.

As always, the students' creativity, imagination, and sincerity surpassed my expectations by leaps and bounds. They transformed what potentially could have been a silly and fun activity (or worse) into a truly meaningful opportunity for sharing and learning more about ourselves and each other. I adore my students and feel honored to know each andevery one of them, as different from each other as every unique, beautiful rock.

Fingers

2011-11-10T13:01:00.001-08:00

Fingers

By Ousmane Sembene

Fingers, skillful of scupture

At modeling figures on marble

At translations of thoughts

Fingers that would impress

Fingers of artists

Fingers thick and heavy

That dig and plough the soil

And open it up for sowing

And move us

Fingers that land tillers

A finger holding a trigger

An eye intent on a target finger

Men at the very brink
Of their lives at the mercy of their finger

The finger that destroys life

The finger of a soldier

Across the rivers and languages

Of Europe and Asia

Of China and Africa

Of India and the Oceans

Let us join our fingers to take away

All the power of their finger

Which keeps humanity in mourning

I came across this poem today while I was helping my students do research for their thesis projects from the University. One student gave a dramatic reading of the poem followed by a nice impromptu discussion about African literature. I love my students!

The University of Nouakchott's English Department's required forty-page thesis is a big obstacle for all students and it is often the only factor that prevents them from receiving their bachelor degrees. I have eight (out of 20) students right now who have finished at the University with everything except their theses. I have been trying to encourage them to focus on getting them finished! I like editing and I also like recommending the students to read my favorite books :)

Most of all, I just want to help my students because it seems like completing the paper is nearly impossible task in an environment with very little supervision/editing help, few references and resources, and lack of access to computers. Most of all, the students are not prepared with the skills needed for writing such a long research paper. Indeed, the entire process seems doomed to failure. Yet miraculously, students manage to finish each year, giving hope and inspiration to their peers.

Last year I tried to help seven students but only one was able to complete the paper. This year I am hoping that more can finish! The University is switching systems and they warned the students that this will be the last year for the students to finish their "maitrise" degrees. Ever.

Last night one student called me upset, evidently his computer crashed and took the only draft of all 20 pages with it. I advised him to stay calm, keep his eyes on the prize and his fingers on the keyboard.

I need to focus on getting my students to become the kind of teachers who will teach their students to join their fingers together to build a more safe, peaceful, and egalitarian society!

Party Like It's 1999

2011-11-10T03:31:00.000-08:00

I celebrated Tabaski for the first time in Mombasa, Kenya in January 1999. On the first day of my new internship at a safe house for street children, we all went to a street festival in the heart of old town Mombasa.

It was my first time to meet the kids. I was nervous because I had only heard bad things about street children, such as, "they are violent," "they throw faeces," and "they are unpredictable because of all the drugs they take."

During the first part of the evening, I stuck close to my new co-workers sides. We walked past the games and rides and watched the kids running through the park, eating candy and donuts, and talking together. I still remember the feeling of a little hand grabbing mine and holding on tightly. Surprised, I looked down and saw one of youngest boys smiling up at me. I found my first friend. A few minutes later, I had another little hand entwined in mine. By the end of the night, I had a little pack of legs twisting around mine, so that it made it difficult for me to walk. I remember feeling a sense of relief that I had managed to make friends so quickly. These little cuties seemed to accept me based exclusively on my willingness to hold their hands.

While we were waiting for the bus to arrive to pick us up I was sitting alone, observing the older kids (who still had not approached me yet). I was sitting a little bit apart from the group and two strangers walking by decided to try to talk to me. They asked me questions in kiswahili and I tried to politely explain that I didn't know the language and wasn't interested in talking to them. One of the men came close to me to present me with his business card. Before I could respond I heard a lion's roar behind me, "Haa taki!" (she doesn't want it). The men turned and ran. Shocked by this chorus of anger, I turned around and saw all of the older street children lined up in a fighting position.

In one night, I earned the friendship of all of the street children. Without a single word, they were already my protectors and bodyguards. I was amazed. These kids were charming, funny, sweet, smart, and energetic.

I spent the next seven months with the kids. I worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. I learned a tremendous about their lives and struggles. Their successes and weaknesses. I fell in love with them and became broken hearted when I realized that I could never "save" them. They could only save themselves.

Over the past twelve years, I have thought about these children often. I know that my experiences working with them changed my life forever. They introduced me to Islam and taught me important lessons about trust, patience, and solidarity.

In 2007 I had the chance to visit the shelter again. I was reunited with four of my co-workers who filled me in with all the news of the boys I had known. They told me about the boys who remained in the streets and the boys who had married and become responsible community members.

The same day I visited the center, I decided to take a walk around the old fort. In one of the narrow, winding streets I was approached by a small boy who asked me for money, food, or sandals. I carefully explained that I knew he could get help and all of these things if he would agree to go to the center. He persisted and I kindly told him that I used to work with children and became good friends with many of the boys, including KaBuda and others.

He replied by informing me that KaBuda was sitting nearby. I asked him to take me there immediately. Passersby watched closely as the small, dirty boy led me by the hand down the street. He stopped in front of a tree where two boys were sitting and pointed.

One of the boys was standing against a tree. I walked close to him and stood less than a foot away from his face. I stared into his eyes. He didn't blink. I studied his skin and tried to read his expression. He wasn't smiling or ready to fight me. I was in his space. The air was tense. Finally, I spoke, "Is it true you are KaBuda?" He nodded. I asked him, "Do you know my name?" He nodded. Slowly, confidently, he said, "You are Delia."

I burst into tears. Shaking, I grabbed his shoulders. I hugged him. I held him in my arms and saw tears in his eyes. He mumbled, "You came back."

After our initial greetings, we sat down on a tree trunk and exchanged stories. KaBuda told me about our friends who were now in prison or passed away (sadly including our mutual friend KaJuma, RIP). We were sad but happy to see each other again after so many years. KaBuda's mother passed away and he was living with a girlfriend in a slum. I remember one day when I asked KaBuda where grew up. He answered, "Barclays." I replied, "I don't know that town. In which region of the country is it?" He looked down at the ground and explained, "the bank in town." KaBuda was born into a life in the streets. The other kids called him, "chokora damu," meaning that street life was in his blood. They eventually all started calling me that too.

KaBuda's voice was deep from his long career of cigarette smoking. His eyes were dark yellow from a lifetime of sniffing glue. Malnutrition stunted his growth so he was much smaller than most people. He was missing half a finger. He had lost everyone he loved. He had seen things that no one should have to. He was entirely alone in the world. He was a "survivor" (the street kids' name for themselves) who had overcome enormous obstacles and he was alive to prove it. Yet despite these hardships, KaBuda hugged me and laughed and smiled as we reminisced about the old days and the first time I saw him.

I have a clear picture in my mind of a miniature KaBuda, skipping down the street, and carrying a gigantic lollypop. His round cheeks and big smile revealed a set of perfectly white teeth. He was the cutest kid I had ever seen in my life. Tourists loved him and he made a ton of money. No longer cute, I surmised that he had become a sort of gang leader for the younger street children. KaBuda was eleven when I first met him and when I saw him again, he was nineteen going on fifty.

Life has given me so many gifts. The chance to see KaBuda again has been one of them. If I ever get to see him again I will try to do more to help him. I have a big debt to pay. KaBuda and his friends were my teachers. They were my friends. They were my introduction to development work. They taught me how to dance to ndombolo! I will never be the same.

Tabaski in Kaolack

2011-11-09T07:17:00.000-08:00

This year for my third year of celebrating Tabaski since arriving in Mauritania, I decided to travel to Senegal to join in the festivities there. I visited my best friend Aissata, a former student from Brooklyn. She always make me feel like one of the family. I love the happy feeling in the family, where kids are always ready to sing a song and there is always time for funny stories.

Tabaski is the biggest holiday in the year for Muslims. Unfortunately, Senegal celebrated the holiday one day later than Mauritania (and the rest of the world) and when I realized this I called Aissata and told her that I would not be able to come. She firmly informed me, "We are waiting for you. You will come and miss just one day of classes. Get here as soon as possible! We are all waiting!" So that settled the matter. I had to travel to Kaolack!

I am so happy that Aissata set me straight. I had the most amazing visit and celebrating the holiday with friends really put things into perspective. I got to see all of the preparations and take part in every aspect of the holiday.... although I did opt out of watching the sheep slaughter!

The first day I was there we drove to edge of town to visit the Sheep Market. Many Mauritanians travel all the way to Kaolack to sell their sheep there, where they get a higher price than in Mauritania.

We walked around the entire market. Aissata inspected the sheep and debated the prices with each vendor. She then discussed all that she had seen with her team (all men) and then returned to the second vendor we visited and selected the two sheep she had seen previously. She handed over the cold cash and we left with our sheep in tow.

With the sheep purchased, the remaining planning could be done. The market, which Lonely Planet claimed is the "largest covered market in West Africa," was completely overflowing with people, as vendors set up stands in all of the public roads and spaces (the mayor charged 3,000 CFA for each vendor). It was nearly impossible to walk anywhere. While trying to get to Aissata's stand (where she sells household goods) a surge of people pushed me onto a pile of onions. which thankfully made for a soft landing!

At the market, women were busy buying new curtains, upholstery fabric, sheets, serving plates and other new things for their homes. They also bought fabric to bring to tailors who then will work their magic to make beautiful embroidered ensembles. In the weeks building up the holiday, they return to the market many times to shop for the perfect accessories for their outfits, including purses, shoes, and jewelry.

The night before Tabaski is an enormous party in the market, where nearly every single person in the town comes to shop and visit with friends all night long! There is music blasting from speakers everywhere and there is excitement in the air. The boys in my friend's family didn't return home until 5:00 am!

On the day of Tabaski, all of the men go to the mosque to pray at 8:30 am. When they return, everyone eats breakfast and then the cooking and cleaning commence! The men slaughtered the sheep while the women cut enormous piles of onions and potatoes.

After all of the gritty work is done, plates of food are brought to the neighbors and then the eating begins! It is a mutton bonanza for the rest of the day!

The last part of the celebration is mostly for the young, who spend the entire night laughing and talking with friends. It was a parade of the best dressed women I have ever seen!

I definitely have a lot to learn about fashion from these gorgeous women! I hope that one day I can celebrate Tabaski in Kaolack again.

When I started thinking about the day, it seemed that the way that Tabaski was celebrated in Senegal is much the same as the way that my family celebrates Thanksgiving. The morning is spent working, the afternoon is spent eating, and the evening is spent visiting friends and family. The more time I spend with people the less different they seem. There are always common threads that tie us all together, although sometimes it can take a little bit longer to find them.

Friends in High Places

2011-11-02T18:18:00.000-07:00

I decided to spend the weekend in Chinguetti & Ouadane. I asked my friend Sidi, who is from Chinguetti and also happens to be a tour guide, if he would mind taking me. I paid for the gas, car rental & food. I grabbed Sisay, one of my best friends in Nouakchott, and we made our way north.

After nearly 8 hours of driving we finally reached the top of the mountain range. We stopped at the first house we came upon to ask if we could borrow their air pump. A man politely told us that he had loaned the pump to the nearest neighbors, who lived another two kilometers down the road. We drove to the house and asked if the pump was available. A little boy came running to the car with the pump in hand.

A man came out a few minutes later carrying a bowl of sweet milk (called "zrig") to share. After few minutes, he returned again, this time carrying three cups of tea (called "attaya"). As I took the cup to drink, he looked at me and spoke in Arabic to Sidi. I didn't understand what he was saying until I heard the word, "ENS," the place where I teach. Sidi looked at me incredulously and said, "you're famous! This man knows who you are!" Evidently the man is friends with one of my students at ENS and saw the photos from our trip to Tergit last June. In Mauritania the world can seem very, very small! No place is too remote to find familiar faces, not even the top of a mountain.

I love the close relationships that Mauritanians build and the interconnected web between people here. I love Mauritanian hospitality and friendship. I love traveling and escaping the "city" life in Nouakchott. I had an amazing trip to the North and I can't wait to visit again!

Welooti Music Festival

2011-10-27T14:55:00.000-07:00

This week I was invited to attend the Welooti music festival in Bababe. The festival was organized by the town's youth association and featured performances of many of their favorite hip hop groups, including the hometown heroes, Minen Tey. The festival included many activities but unfortunately I only got to see the events of one day.

First Year Teachers

2011-10-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

I am back in Nouakchott! Ididn’t know if I would have the chance to spend a third year in Mauritania andI am feeling exceptionally grateful for this opportunity. I had a serious caseof jetlag the first few days that I was back. Of course the intense heat didnot help matters- it was easier to sleep all day and stay awake during the coolhours of the night.

I finally feel present andready to get back to work. My students from the past two years have beencalling me. They have been sent to teach in all corners of the country. Theyeach have funny stories to tell. One young teacher didn’t have a place to stayand so he was taken in by the village chief, where he has been very well takencare of. A different teacher was sent to his home village in the far east ofthe country but only given eight hours of English classes to teach. He has beenassigned to teach another subject but he doesn’t even have a book to follow forit. How can someone teach a class that has never taken and received no trainingfor?

A different teacher has beensent to a village very far from anywhere where there is very little water. Herefused to go to his assignment but he may not have another choice. I guesstime will tell how the issue will be resolved. The female students have allbeen sent to large towns. It is good to be a female teacher in Mauritania,except for one of the students who was sent far away and given twelve hours ofFrench classes to teach. She won’t get to teach English (the only subject shewas trained to teach) at all! I hope that she can change this situation soon.

The young teachers are assigned to cities randomly. Some have been exceptionally happy with their placements while others are frustrated. Many of the first year teachers get sent to the most remote places, where none of the other teachers in Mauritania want to go. Most do not have access to email and some are even out of reach of the phone network. Each time I speak to thesenew teachers I become filled with a sense of pride. I am so happy that they arenow my colleagues and have now started working on the enormous task ofeducating Mauritania’s future generations. I believe in the potential of eachone of these new teachers. I feel very fortunate to have had a role in theirtraining and I hope that it made a difference.

“Everything has changed… except the way we think. The aim [of education] must be the training of independently acting and thinking individuals, who, however, see in the service of the community their highest life problem.”

–Albert Einstein

Amy's Stamp Collection

2011-10-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

When I visited Portland, OR this summer I was presented with a special gift from my host and best friend since the 7th grade, Amy Lindahl. While she was cleaning her new classroom at her new school she found a box of stamps on one of the shelves. When she took the stamps home for a closer inspection, she discovered that she was the new proud owner of a spectacular collection. Although the stamps are so cool they are not worth really anything, dollar wise. Amy let me dig through the stamps and take my favorites.

Here are some of the ones I picked:

Thanks AMY!

Vacation (All I ever wanted)

2011-09-30T09:36:00.000-07:00

What would you do if you hadthree months of vacation? I will tell you what I would do:

Visit the village of Gbeko,Benin for one month, for the first time since completing my Peace Corps servicein 2002
Hang out for two weeks inKaolack, Senegal with my favorite student from the adult education classes Itaught in Brooklyn (she left New York and moved back to Senegal a few yearsago)
Spend the weekend inThilogne, Senegal with the families of many of my friends in New York
Travel home to Minneapolis, Minnesotaand spend three weeks with my family. Most days were spent with my mom touringthe cities many lakes and parks on matching Schwinn Cruisers
Attend the wedding in Chicago, IL of one ofmy best friends and favorite people on the planet, Anne Sweeney. I also got to see old friends and spend some quality time with my newestfriend, Eva Simone Newman, a very fun and silly 19-month-old charmer!
Take a trip out West tovisit Seattle, Olympia, and Portland to catch up with many old friends. I lovethe Pacific NW- the clean air, green everywhere, gorgeous views of mountainpeaks, amazing bookstores and genuinely kind, generous people
Organize a “girls weekend”in Deep Creek, Maryland. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world to spendfour days with four of my best friends who came to MD from NY, WI, MA, and VA! Wecooked delicious meals, went hiking and visited some local tourist attractions
Celebrate Brooklyn! Twoweeks in Brooklyn could never be enough but it allowed me to see many of mybest friends and enjoy the music, culture, museums, and restaurants of thegreatest city on earth…

I hope that I have another two month vacation next year. I already have many plans and many more people to visit. Until then, I will be singing along with the Go Go's! Take it from here, girls!

Bigfoot

2011-09-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

One of the highlights for me this summer is to return to Olympia and see my friends from the Masters in Teaching program at the Evergreen State College. One of my former colleagues is a Makah Indian and grew up on a reservation near Neah Bay. He still has a lot of family there and visits often. This summer he invited another colleague to visit the Res for a few days to hang out and go surfing. They had a total blast!

The two excitedly told stories from their trip. They told me about their evenings in front of the campfire and stories about bigfoot sightings. Surprised, I asked if they both believed in sasquatch. They excitedly told me that they did. Alex proceeded to tell me many first-hand encounters with bigfoot by his brothers and sisters, uncles, aunts, and cousins. For them, there is no doubt about the existence of the "tall ones."

They carefully explained to me that the forest cover is too tall for authorities to search for them and the sasquatches are too smart to fall for any traps. Bigfoot families avoid the smell of humans and prevent getting seen, except on chance occasions.

They told me about one time when family on the Res took a walk on the beach near their houses and they saw piles of seagulls with their hearts and innards ripped out. Bodies were everywhere. They were shocked to see such carnage, especially since seagulls are difficult to catch. They kept walking and saw another seagull massacre further up the beach. Then their eyes drew them to the edge of the beach, to the forest, and they saw enormous branches taken down with bodies of seagulls impaled upon them. They saw gigantic trees uprooted and destroyed. They began to feel very scared...

Then they heard loud screams. It was not the sound of bears, which they were very familiar with. It was a high-pitched scream. They ran as fast as they could but they couldn't return to their house with the same path they arrived on. They had to leap across a five-foot gap between rocks. They were terrified.

As they told their stories I had goosebumps on my arms. Both of my former classmates completely believed in the credibility of the story. It is interesting to hear about real-life American legends, after spending time in Africa and meeting people everyday who believe in genies, spirits, and mermaids. Maybe I need to open my mind more and start believing in their existence too.

Well I went to school in Olympia...

2011-09-21T09:33:00.001-07:00

I am currently in Olympia, WA. I went to grad school here at the Evergreen State College to become a teacher. Last night I had dinner with my two professors, who have had such an important impact on my life. For two full years, Terry Ford and Sherry Walton worked around the clock to help me to develop the skills I need to be the kind of teacher I came here to become. I use these skills every day and feel grateful to have had mentors who are incredibly gifted, wise, and talented.

The previous night I met up with some of my former classmates from my program. It was great to hear all about their teaching paths and career choices. Most of my colleagues are starting their tenth school years this year. They have gotten married, had kids, and bought homes.

In contrast, I have really become a nomad since graduation, making homes for myself in Benin, Chicago, New York, Ethiopia and Mauritania. I still don't know where I will be living next year. All I do know is that I will return to Mauritania in two weeks and try to finish what I have been working on over the past two years.

The good thing about living overseas is that I can always come home and catch up on all the news. I always imagined that all my friends from grad school hang out and have large dinners but for the most part it seems like they only see each randomly other around town at the farmer's market and coffee shops. I would like to try to visit more often and make more of an effort to stay in touch. This is my first visit since graduation in 2002.

It has been incredible to return to Olympia and see many of my friends again. I never could have survived graduate school without such an incredible group of friends and I never would be the teacher I am today without the leadership of my amazing professors. Although I do love it here, there is no way that I could have ever stayed....

Put your id in your left shoe

2011-08-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

I am in Brooklyn during the saga of Hurricane Irene. It has been an intense two days with crowds emptying the stores of batteries, bottled water, and other supplies. The t.v. has been 100% focused on the storm's impending arrival.

There have been many efforts to evacuate the most affected areas, particularly the low-laying coastal neighborhoods. One authority even went so far as to tell viewers to put ids and other important documents in the left shoe with the laces tied so that the bodies can be easily identified, in a worst-case scenario. This seems a bit excessive to me.

In addition to necessary goods, I noticed many New Yorkers also stocking up on beer and party food. I should not be surprised that many people will be waiting for Irene in style. For once, I am grateful to be staying in a place far from the sea. I will be staying inside, as far from any windows as possible. I will be barefoot. I wish Irene would to leave NYC alone.

Eva on my mind

2011-08-27T20:51:00.000-07:00

I have been on vacation since July. An extended summer vacation is definitely one of the best parts of my life as a teacher. Last week, I spent five days in Chicago with two of my favorite people, who are conveniently also both teachers! We spent lazy days going to museums, taking long walks, and visiting farmers markets. It was a perfect visit. The highlight was when their one-and-a-half year old daughter Eva came up to me after I returned from a pedicure, pointed to my feet and said, "Deedee's toes." Melt my heart!

I love my friends

2011-08-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I had the great privilege of spending some serious quality time with four of my best friends. We went to Maryland and had an absolutely fabulous time, of course!

Dance Kangana

2011-07-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

Last night on the television in Kaolack, Senegal, I saw a music video by a Togolese group for a new song called, "Dance Kangana." Kangana is an evil spirit who stars in a popular Indian soap opera called "Shree." Each night when it airs, children throughout West Africa sing along with the theme song, taxi drivers use it as their ring tones and radios blast the popular beats.

Indian fashion and television series are exceptionally popular in West Africa. Shree is the latest craze to sweep the region but it is not the first. Perhaps the most popular series so far was "Vaida." The markets were filled with Vaida printed wax fabric and pirated DVDs. When the series ended last year, it was marked by a television special featuring Senegalese stars singing popular Indian songs, while wearing Indian clothing and dancing Indian dances. The original Vaida cast came to Dakar for the event. The strangest of the Indian television series craze is a Brazilian program entitled "An Indian Love Story" that features Brazilian actors dressed in Indian clothing and make-up. It is filmed in a sort of technicolor and just doesn't make any sense to me.

I have also bought into the frenzy, buying Indian "Punjab" fabric and making my own outfits that blend Indian and African styles. There is really an East meets West cultural convergence taking place right now throughout West Africa. I, for one, am fascinated and I wonder how far it will go.... Is it long before samosas and chai are sold on street corners? Will women in the villages start wearing pants? Will Indian music videos find a market here or will "Dance Kangana" be the beginning of the end?

Zangbeto

2011-07-27T10:41:00.003-07:00

Zangbeto is the guardian of the night. He protects the villagers from theft, solves domestic disputes, and organizes community service. I have witnessed the presence of Zangbeto in all of these affairs. He also provides entertainment during ceremonies. He dances by spinning around fast, shrinking and growing in height as he turns. I have also witnessed this many times.

There are many reports of the Zangbeto's public display of power. Zangbeto drives motorcycles, crosses rivers by walking on water, and transforms buckets of water into palm wine. Zangbeto can also become very tiny and dance inside of a bottle. I have not had the fortune of seeing any of these spectacles myself.

Although Zangbeto does make appearances during the day, his main work takes place at night. He moves through the narrow winding paths of the village in total darkness. He is followed by a group of drummers and makes an eery humming noise to announce his arrival. At night his power is great and he must not be seen by anyone who is not an initiate of his group.

Only men can join the group of Zangbeto. All men of the village are forced to join. Children and women (and men who refuse to join) fear Zangbeto. They know that the affairs of Zangbeto do not include them and they in turn avoid all contact. While I was visiting the village, the neighborhood Zangbeto came over to the house to offer me his blessing.

Kaleta

2011-07-27T10:38:00.001-07:00

Kaleta is the child of Zangbeto. His primary role is to make children laugh. He provides entertainment during ceremonies and events. He is followed by a group of children who play drums for him. Kaleta lives inside of termite mounds. It is thought that every termite mound contains a Kaleta. He will only come out when he is summoned by his guardian. Every Kaleta has a guardian.

While I was visiting the village, I asked if it would be possible for the guardian to summon Kaleta on my behalf. The neighborhood boys went to speak to the guardian and he happily accepted. The guardian instructed the boys to buy a bottle of red palm oil as an offering. Since Kaleta is a child spirit, he doesn't need sodabi. He showed the boys the termite mound where the neighborhood Kaleta lives and told them to come back three days later. He needed three days to complete all of the prayers and purification rituals before contacting the spirits. He poured the palm oil on the termite mound.

Three days later at 16:00, the boys went to the termite mound. They removed their shirts, as prescribed by the guardian. They took turns breaking the mound, a process that took nearly an hour of hard work. After the mound was completely broken, the boys stood back and waited. Suddenly, Kaleta appeared before their eyes. Kaleta followed the boys back to the house.

As soon as he arrived, Kaleta immediately began dancing. He also made a prayer for me, communicated by kneeling in front of me and holding out his hand. Kaleta does not speak or make any noise with anyone besides his initiates. He communicates only with the children who accompany him in private, secret conversations.

Kaleta danced for over 15 minutes before returning to his mound. Who knows the next time he will be summoned?

Protectors

2011-07-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

There are three types of spirits living in Gbeko. Zangbeto, his child Kaleta, and Pogi. There are many different Kaleta and Zangbeto's because each neighborhood has their own. It is estimated that Gbeko could have up to 100 of each. There is only one Poji in Gbeko. I have never seen it and can not describe it. Poji walks on stilts and one child described it to me as the spirit, "who's feet never touch the ground."

These spirits are not human. There is a separate phenomenon within voudun culture when humans can enter a trance and speak with the voice of a spirit (ancestor). Yet this is totally separate from the three spirits mentioned here: They are not and never were human. The spirits cover their forms from humans by wearing masks and colorful clothing. Only the followers of each spirit can see their actual forms. They are also the only ones who can touch them. Individuals become initiates of a spirit by following the steps determined by tradition and the guardian of the spirits.

Each spirit has a guardian who facilitates all contact between the spirit and the human world. The guardian is the only person who can summon the spirit. This generally includes prayer and gifts to the shrine of the spirit (Zangbeto is represented by a sculpture and Kaleta a termite mound). The guardian must also purify himself before approaching these shrines. One aspect of purification is to have no contact with women (unless they are virgins). Offerings to the spirits most always include distilled palm wine (sodabi) and red palm oil. These are poured on the shrines. Sodabi is also consumed by the guardian as part of the purification process. Sacrifices of chickens or other animals may also be made, depending on the reasons for summoning the spirit. They are usually killed on the shrine and consumed by the guardian of the spirit and also sometimes the person(s) who made the offering.

I should mention that women are forbidden to have any contact with the spirits. It is entirely the domain of men. Women are forbidden from knowing the secrets of initiation or membership. Women can only see the spirits during the daylight hours. There are many beliefs about consequences for not respecting the "rules" of the spirits. The main idea is that the spirit will take the offending person back to the spirit world with them. This threat is great enough that non-initiates, children, and women all fear the spirits and avoid any contact with them.

Copa Cobana in Grand Popo

2011-07-27T09:12:00.000-07:00

Sam Cooke Live at the Copa Cobana played on the speaker during dinner singing, "This little light of mine I'm gonna let it shine." I couldn't have selected a better song.

I sat at the table looking out at the long, empty beach. I ordered a Moka soda... Which tasted better than I remembered. Heaven in a glass! Ocean wind blew my hair in every direction. I felt absolutely free. As she brought my salad, the server proudly announced, "because you said no eggs, we added tuna!" Perhaps she was also the one who replaced Sam Cooke with hideous dijeridoo music! When I left the table without eating (tuna oil covered vegetables) the front desk staff apologized and sent me back to my room with a new salad. At least they understood customer service. I was pleasantly surprised. I ate the entire plate while watching The Life Aquatic on my ipod. It felt like a real vacation. For breakfast the next morning I was presented with a huge thermos of coffee all for me along with a basket of bread and coconut confiture. Heavenly!

After three weeks in the village, surrounded by people 24 hours a day, I was looking forward to a quiet weekend alone. I was happy to discover that the only other people staying at the hotel was a German family. They were polite to me but bossy to the hotel staff. They laughed often and kept to themselves.

It was my first time staying at the hotel. The other times I was in Grand Popo I camped on the beach instead. Total cheapskate! This time I was on a bigger budget. However, staying in the rooms was not expensive.

The colonial style guest house has two floors. The reception workers asked me if I would like a first floor, garden level room for 16,000 or a second floor, ocean view room for 18,000. I decided to treat myself to an ocean view. I was a little bit surprised to see that none of the rooms have windows, hence no view.

The slots in the wood door and parallel window in the bathroom created a nice cross-breeze. A large ceiling fan made the room feel well-ventilated. As the only guest on the second floor, I kept the door open except for the times I was sleeping. The other irony was that large trees hid most of the ocean from sight from the balcony. The next time I am there I will definitely go for the cheapest room available.

I hope to go back to Grand Popo again soon... is was a totally perfect escape.

My baby got sauce

2011-07-27T09:05:00.001-07:00

I arrived in Grand Popo on a Friday afternoon. As I got out of the taxi, a motorcycle taxi pulled up. I negotiated a price, slapped on my helmet, and hopped on. The driver drove about five meters before stopping in front of a man standing on the side of the road. The man handed the driver a large bowl covered by a plate. The driver in turn handed the plate to me with an apologetic look. Then he added, "it is sauce for my wife's lunch."

I carried the bowl for about ten minutes before we stopped in front of a beauty salon. A little boy came running out of the shop and took the bowl from my hands. Everyone inside the shop waved. The driver turned around and kept driving until we reached the hotel.

This event symbolizes one of the things I love best about living in Africa. Helping others is expected, assumed, and not optional... whether it is holding someone else's baby in a taxi, carrying a heavy bag, or bringing sauce to a hungry wife!

The village without streets

2011-07-27T09:04:00.000-07:00

From 2002-2004, I lived in a small village called Gbeko, which is located on an island in the Oume river. There was no electricity, phones, or police.

To reach the isolated village, I took a canoe ride that lasted between 10 minutes to 3 hours, depending on the time of year. During the rainy season the entire valley flooded. Although the village itself is on high land, the neighboring villages became stilt villages. I bought a canoe and took trips to visit all of the villages in the valley.

In the seven years since I left the village there was a lot of change. Of course the biggest change was the children themselves who have all grown up and become parents and respected community members. I was so happy to see my old friends and hear their stories. Here is a summary of my observations:

Changes

Fish stocks have been dramatically reduced, both in terms of the quantity and size of the fish harvested
The price of nearly everything has doubled (the canoe ride has gone from 10 to 25 CFA and a fried donut has gone from 5 to 10 CFA)
The amount of money received for the produce grown and harvested has increased dramatically
The secondary school includes all grades, including senior year (terminal)
The majority of young men will complete (or at least attend secondary school)
Most girls will complete primary school and most will attend secondary school
There are female teachers in the schools, including four at the secondary level
There is some cell phone network coverage
Some houses have generators
These houses also have DVD players where people watch movies and Goun/Fon music videos
There are many zemidjans
Alcoholism (sodabi) is a serious problem
There are refrigerators and cold beverages
There are many cement houses, including one three-story palace (unoccupied)
Belief in Voudun is starting to show a serious decline
Many market women cover their food to protect it from flies/contamination
Increase in number of large churches
Tofu is sold everywhere
The road between Porto Novo and Azowlisse is paved

No changes

Narrow, winding paths connect compounds
Hot water is pumped from the deep under the ground
Most houses are made out of mud
The main crops are manioc, sweet potatoes, okra, rice, and hot peppers
Most girls get pregnant/married before completing secondary school (often with teachers or even the school directors)
Childbirth is the biggest threat to women's lives
There is only a night market in Gbeko, with large markets near by in Dekin, Zoudounou, and Azowlisse
Funerals can last more than five days
Most people get married without having a wedding (just start living together)
There is not a single NGO helping people in the village (except for the flood victims last year)
Belief in sorcery is as very strong and is used to explain every good or bad event that happens in peoples' lives
Belief in the power of the spirits living among humans is strong
Women work longer hours than men (and do equally difficult tasks)
Akassa or pate (white, red, or black) is eaten for every meal
Sauces with a lot of pepper
My luggage- I brought with me the exact two bags I used in Benin

Bon Arrivee

2011-07-27T09:02:00.000-07:00

The day I traveled to the village for the first time I was nervous to have all of my belongings piled into a canoe steered by a young girl not older than ten-years-old.

When we arrived near the edge of the village, I heard singing. As we came closer I saw women standing knee-deep in water. The women approached the canoe and pulled out my belongings one by one until the canoe was empty. They carried the heavy bags on their heads all the way to my house, over one hour away. I was left without anything to carry. Even my bicycle was balanced on someone's head.

When we arrived at the front door of my new house, I found all of the women sitting in a circle with a large bowl in the center of the room. They invited me to sit with them. Then we all ate lunch together.

My return to the village seven years later was less dramatic. I arrived in the evening, just as the sun set. I was accompanied by my closest friend in the village, Evariste. Now a young man in his senior year of high school, I remember him as the boy who took care of my dog, Soleil, while I was away. In addition, he was my main companion during afternoon walks around the village.

Evariste was now living in Azowlisse while he studied for his BAC exam so he came to the village for the sole purpose of being my guide. We stayed in the same house, which was recently built by one of Evariste's many uncles living in Cotonou.

My first goal in the village was to visit Evariste's grandmother, Nene. I ran into her while I was on my way to her house. I also ran into the Voudun chief and all of the grown up versions of the neighborhood kids. Everyone was on their way to see me as I was rushing to them at the same time. Seeing all of my friends felt like a real homecoming. I actually didn't even realize how much I had missed my friends there until I was back in their company.

The group of kids who used my house as their central meeting place were all still in school and all doing well. The only exception was one of my favorite girls, Malia, who passed away last year after a sudden illness.

My friends came over to visit me many times each day. Their smiles showed me how happy they were to see me even without them saying so. They carried with them gifts of coconuts, popcorn, and donuts. They had ideas of places to go and old friends to visit. It was truly marvelous to see everyone.

This group of young men and women are a great source of pride and hope, not only for their families but for the entire village. They represent the first generation to become educated, complete secondary school and attend universities or trade schools. This group can gain the power and skills needed to be able to one day improve the quality of life in the village.

I will never be able to express the extent of my appreciation to my friends in the village. They offered me the gifts of friendship and solidarity every day I spent in the village. Without them, I wouldn't have survived a single night. With them, I shared some of the happiest days of my life.

Invasion

2011-07-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

Cotonou has been invaded by people with money. There are many huge buildings with shiny windows and flashy exteriors. There are cash machines on every corner and the streets are filled with Land Rovers.

I returned to Cotonou after two weeks in the village. The newly paved road between Azowlisse and Porto Novo prevented me from becoming covered in red dirt like before but an hour motorcycle ride didn't exactly make me feel fresh.

I was in serious need of a shower yet I had no idea where to stay. I decided to try Hotel Concord, I never actually stayed there but remembered it as a popular place and it was at least in the neighborhood close to all of the places I used to visit.

When I pulled up on the zemi, I was surprised to see that it was closed for business. A man standing outside recommended a place around the corner uncreatively called "The Prince Hotel."

I didn't have another option so I decided to try it. I was delighted to discover that it was directly next door to the Indian grocery store. This is another Cotonou landmark that I had been dreaming about. I happily purchased McVities hobnobs and current shortcakes, in addition to a mint Ritter sport and a bottle of soymilk!

I returned to my room an watched CNN (it's only redeeming quality being that it is in English!), read some emails with the functioning wifi, and took a long, very hot shower.

Later that night I went downstairs to buy some credit for my cellphone. I ended up talking far too long to all of the characters in the lobby. One man could not guess what country I was from, despite many helpful hints. He must of gone through a list of 30 countries but just could not get it right. I thought he may have been pulling my leg but don't think so. Perhaps he was drunk or taking drugs. Or maybe he is just a bit slow.

After a long talk about the perils of immigration to the states, especially without having the correct documents to work, our conversation led to a crowning story I have been waiting to share with someone since 2005 when I visited Belize, a country who's only thing in common with Benin is a similarly sounding name (more than one letter addressed to Benin was sent first to Belize by the U.S. Postal Service). I explained my surprise when I arrived at the airport and saw a large photograph of the small nation's President, who happened to be Lebanese. This story was well-received by my audience, who could never fathom this happening in their own country, despite the large control the group has over the local economy.

The reception worker surprised me the next morning by sending up breakfast to my room. It is always nice to make friends with people and those late night conversations with strangers are often the most memorable.

Before leaving Cotonou again to visit Grand Popo and Come, I took another walk around the neighborhood. I decided to treat myself to the purchase of super cute fabric at the Vlisco store and asked the fabulously dressed sales clerks for a recommendation of a good tailor.

They sent me on a zemi to a shop a few minutes away. The tailor looked at me with hungry eyes. He spoke of love and sat too close to me as I perused the fashion magazines. I made sure to keep the door open and kept to the topic of the outfit I wanted. He told me I looked like a model and that he would follow me to Mauritania.

When I went to pick it up a week later I brought a friend with me. At first fitting, the outfit was terrible but I made him fix it and the result is very lovely. Evidently Cotonou has also been invaded by sketchy tailors. I will avoid them in the future.

Thoughts from the rainy season

2011-07-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

The two am Air Nigeria flight from Dakar arrived in Cotonou at six am. From the airplane window I could see the rain falling from the dark clouds below. I could also see glimpses of the impressive Oume river, which resembled an enormous snake winding through the dense, emerald green canopy of seemingly endless forests.

When the plane landed, seven of us disembarked from the plane. The rest of the passengers were bound for bustling Lagos. The Cotonou airport was just as I remembered; a simple structure with high ceilings. The building still feels unfinished despite all the years that have passed.

The formalities consisted on a man standing at a desk, without protective glass, who stamped my passport without a smile or a question. I am not sure he even saw the visa I was so stressed about securing before arrival. The consular arrived in Nouakchott the day before my departure and arranged to meet me outside of the official office hours.

My first stop was Hotel de Port. I picked it randomly from the Lonely Planet guidebook, since the only other hotel I knew (Hotel du Lac) was unavailable due to a "seminar." I visited a friend who was staying at Du Lac a couple of weeks later and was surprised to see that it has had a major face lift. It may be Cotonou's most desirable hotel. It was no surprise that I couldn't get a room there all three times I tried.

Unfortunately, a night at Hotel du Port has the same high price tag even though the amenities were greatly lacking. For starters, the room was small. It took three requests to get a functioning television. The hot water was only luke warm. The wi-fi did not work until nine pm.

The worst part was the lack of tranquility. The space below held aerobics classes in the afternoons and evenings and salsa lessons all night long. I was thankful that my 6 am arrival caused me to sleep most of the day! At the same time I realize that a real sports enthusiast may have been thrilled with the possibilities.

Just about the only redeeming quality if the hotel was it's location within walking distance of Bangkok Terrace, my long time favorite restaurant in Benin (West Africa?)!!! I walked there for dinner and had a delicious plate of pad thai with vegetarian spring rolls!

After a long sleep (the pouring rain gave me even less reason to get out of bed), I went in search of the Peace Corps office. It has moved since the time I was there. I wanted to greet the Peace Corps doctor who is to this day the best I have ever had. Dr. Rufin always showed me that he cared, no matter how long his list of patients was. I know that I can never say thank you enough to him for every time he helped me. I don't think I will ever have such comprehensive quality health care again... And hopefully I will never need it as much!

After my visit with the world's greatest doctor, I rode my first zemidjan (motorcylcle taxi) in seven years. I was nervous as I hopped on but felt happy with the wind blowing through my hair. I told the driver to take me to a place where I can buy a helmet. He knew just the place and a few minutes later I felt a lot more confident on the zemi. The next stop was Marche Ganhi, which I remembered as being a chic part of town. This was definitely not the case anymore. The elegant Vlisco Hollandais store is still there while the other stores seem to be crumbling around it.

The ladies selling sandwiches in the garbage pit next-door, so-called "sewer sandwiches," were still there although they did cross over to the other side of the street. I didn't dare eat one.
Instead, I went in search of Farou's, my number one hang out in Cotonou. I can say with confidence that I ate at least one meal there every single day I was in Cotonou. It is the bar by which I measure all Lebanese food. It was my introduction to zaatar, foul, and baba ganoush. I walked to the restaurant in anticipation but soon realized that it was long gone. Disappointed, I decided to save my appetite. It was Farou's or bust.

The next morning I woke up early to run some errands before traveling to the village. A nice espresso in front of the turquoise blue pool was also a reminder that I was on vacation. At the pharmacy I bought some anti-malaria medicine (doxycycline) and then hit the road!

Twenty-four hours later, I was in a canoe winding my own way up stream to the village. It looked exactly as I remembered.

Photo Friend

2011-06-18T01:22:00.000-07:00

I went to Kiffa a couple of months ago and took this photo in the market:

I posted the photo on Facebook and one of my teacher friends from the region told me that he knew her. I asked him to pass along my greeting as well as a promise to send the photos that I took in her shop. In return, she gave him this leather gun case that she made herself as a gift. He brought it for me yesterday when he returned to Nouakchott for the summer vacation. Her generosity has really touched me. What an exceptionally kind woman!

Magnificent Creatures

2011-06-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the beach and saw these magnificent creatures:

Seeking treasures

2011-06-16T12:43:00.000-07:00

Before I arrived at ENS (the teacher training college in Nouakchott) the administration removed all of the English books from the library, claiming that students were stealing them. The books were locked away in offices that were rarely used by the Professors on campus. Students (or anyone else) had essentially no access to them. When I asked about the books, I was informed that there was a new room designated for the English department library that would be open very shortly. I was shown the room and agreed that it had much potential. I gave my commitment to help in any way possible but gave up asking about it after a year. It seemed certain that it would never happen.

Fast forward two years. The U.S. Embassy has provided the funds to finally create a functioning library. They built bookshelves, desks, and chairs. They will also donate computers and additional books. I called on all of my students to come together to help me put the books in boxes and move them to the new room. We dusted them off and organized them on the shelves. I estimated that all of this would take four hours. Yet after six hours the room still looked like a tornado.

After two days of immeasurably hard work, the books are mostly organized. While digging through the boxes I found two treasures:

A thesis from my school directed by another Delia in 1987 (evidently she was the "Pitts"):

A book from the library of the Jr. High where I attended (it really was "Anrotten"):

Finding these books was like an omen that I was on the right path. It reminded me of the me of this scene from one of my favorite movies:

I wonder what will happen to me if I seek the treasure? I think I am getting close!

I appreciate life's many gifts...

2011-06-06T17:35:00.000-07:00

I have been moved to tears too many times to count in the past four days. The generosity of my students is truly overwhelming. Their presence in my life is the best gift yet they continue to reveal their outstanding talents for finding the most thoughtful gifts imaginable- a gorgeous melehfa selected by my student's mother based on my favorite colors (learned by reading this blog), a hand carved jewelry box more precious than anything I could ever put inside it, a delicately painted tea set... the list goes on.

I am counting my blessings each and every day that I am here in Mauritania. I was given an incredible opportunity to be able to live here for two years. I was given amazingly positive and charismatic groups of teacher-trainees and the freedom to design my own courses. When I think about my life, my heart overflows with love.

My appreciation for every single one of my students is encapsulated in this poem written to share with the rest of the class during our nighttime activities- sharing music, poetry, songs, rap, or any other talents:

Songs of Friendship

By Mohamed Mahmoud Ahmed Lekrama

Welcome here and now at anytime

To such a trip and joyful site.

A lot of work ahead, you know

A chance for all to see and sight,

The flowing water up the hills,

The trees, the rocks, the sky at night.

Besides, I have a word to say to her,

A riddle for you, as well, to figure out.

The word is that: We would not have,

Thanks to her, a food for thought.

The riddle is like: What is a candle

Burned out all along to give the light?

How much time you think you need

To realize that it is you; the neophytes!

The teacher is the answer. A man of

Deeds who often play his cards right.

Because of him, I do confess I learnt

And you too should confirm this fact.

And that is how you came to know

This lovely being, this ever glowing bright.

Her name is Delia, our stroke of luck

A friendly mate, a part and parcel of delight.

I wish you all a happier life and luck

And all our graduates a better spot,

Not far from home or favorite city,

So they enjoy the time and spare a fight,

Over what to teach and not to teach

And all the trivial talk and tit for tat.

In class do not forget to do your best,

Come well prepared, alert for even worst.

Have an eagle’s eye and when annoyed,

Avoids the fault of either fight or flight.

Hard luck: Moussa, Hamdi, Abdou, Yeslem,

Abdeljelile, Abdoulay, Oumar, Naim Lebatt.

My best regards: Hafedh, Fayol, Adama,

Kader, Hawa, Sakho and this and that.

Not to forget, of course, to thank: Ismael,

Salma, Fatma Salma, Baba and Lemrabatt.

My thanks also for first and second

Year and all who are here and I forgot.

We Are Family

2011-06-05T17:54:00.000-07:00

In Mauritania, the University and other higher education institutions do not organize any sort of graduation ceremonies. Last year at ENS, our second year students finished their two years of exams, practice teaching, papers, and studies with nothing more than a visit to campus to read their final marks posted on the bulletin board.

This year I wanted to do something special to mark the graduation of my second year students, who have honestly been the best group of students I have ever taught. At the same time, I wanted to bring my two groups of students together because I had the luck of having a truly brilliant group of first year students this year as well. Both groups have so much positive energy and seem to genuinely enjoy working hard. They do not complain, love to laugh, and make the most out of each class.

I came up with an idea to have a class retreat where we could spend three days together doing workshops and activities. Since my students played a vital role in organizing both of the day-long conferences for the teacher's association last year I knew that they would embrace a new challenge and that they possessed the skills and motivation to lead workshops and activities with their peers. I selected the oasis of Tergit as a location for the workshop because it is beautiful, isolated, moderate in temperature, and close enough to reach in a few hour's drive.

My students excitedly planned creative and interactive activities and led them with confidence. They did complain a little during the trip- but not excessively- and it is to be expected in a group of 31 adults. They camped in tents, slept under the stars, and were confined to the walls of the mountains surrounding us. There was no cell-phone reception or way to charge electronics. We were totally disconnected. During free time we swam, played football, went hiking, and played music.

It was an incredible experience to bring all students, from all backgrounds, to learn and share ideas from 6:00 am in the morning to 1:00 am at night. I learned so much over the weekend about my students' incredible talents as singers, dancers, guitar players, drummers, football players, story tellers, teachers, problem mediators, jokers, swimmers, poets, rappers, tea makers, and navigators. I will never forget the weekend I went to Tergit with my students. The experiences we shared brought us together and now we are family.

The jinn's oasis

2011-06-05T07:20:00.000-07:00

One of my students recounted this story to me about an interaction he had with a girl from the village of Tergit.

One night at eleven pm, he left the oasis to make a phone call. A young girl saw him and came closer to ask, "where are you coming from?" He answered, "the oasis." The young girl replied, "but aren't you scared of the jinns?" He told her he had not seen any.

It was only then that he understood why none of the villagers joined him in the oasis after sunset, when only the fire flies and stars lit up the night.

Forgerons

2011-05-31T05:33:00.000-07:00

The fact that I may be leaving (my future is still uncertain) has made me realize that I better get to work on all of the projects I have had in my mind since arriving. One of these projects was to make a silver bracelet- one like all of my Mauritanian friends wore in New York. I will wear it and think of them and also my time here. I saw one of my friends was wearing a very nice bracelet and so I asked him where he got it and if he could help me make one too. He happily agreed.

A few days later we went to the market where they sell ostentatious gold jewelry, presumably for weddings and special occasions. I picked a style of bracelet I liked (which is not really Mauritanian... ironically) and then went to weigh it and negotiate the cost with a group of metal workers (forgerons) who were busy pounding and polishing in a wooden shack. We agreed on a price and they made the bracelet in just 24 hours. I picked it up this morning and have not taken it off. Now I am thinking about other styles and designs I could ask them to create. The possibilities are endless!

In Mauritania the forgerons are a caste of people- so metal working is a skill passed from generation to generation. One must be born into the caste to be able to touch metal. The same is true for all professions- fishermen, singers, historians, scholars, etc. Over time the rigid roles have changed and people see beyond the caste system but it is still a strong part of Mauritanian culture and identity. People are still judged based on their caste and not their work ethic or personal achievements. Marriages are arranged and work promotions are granted based on caste. Everyone knows the caste of their peers and even if they profess to not care about caste it is still nearly impossible to completely eliminate it from in their worldview.

If the caste system was eliminated, perhaps the age-old skills of metal-working and other crafts would be lost. Or maybe there would be a new generation of workers who continue the trade, regardless of caste. I sense that this is already happening as economic forces and increased urbanization have forced the society to change. I would love to have time to research how many forgerons are actively working in their trades, and how many of the forgerons working today were born into the caste. I value the immense skills of the forgerons in Mauritania, whether born into the caste or not, and I am happy to support them and their beautiful creations.

New beginning

2011-05-29T14:42:00.000-07:00

The stray kittens outside my door are not doing well. Yesterday one went missing and later I found it shivering at the bottom of a brick outside. The neighbor kids had been "playing" with it all day. I haven't been able to force the little kitty to eat or drink anything for two days now. The kittens' eyes are all infected and closed and their coats are looking mangey.

When I recounted this story to my friend who drives me everywhere (taximan) he said that he would like one of the kittens. Surprised, I reminded him that they are really sick. He said he didn't mind and genuinely wanted one. He came over the next day to pick the little black and white fella. He said his new name is Gaddafi and cuddled the kitten in his arms. I offered to give Gaddafi a bath before going back to his new home, since he was covered in fleas and looked quite dirty.

Gaddafi hated it but definitely needed it. He sat in a little ball in his new guardian's lap while he drove off to start his new life. I hope that his three brothers and sisters have an equally bright future. Or at this point, I am hoping they have a future at all.

King Kong Masterpiece

2011-05-28T11:44:00.000-07:00

I love original paintings. In Haiti I went crazy for the cheap canvas works and gobbled up a handful in a matter of seconds. I have thought of commissioning artists to paint members of my family, friends, etc for many years but never got around to following up on the idea. Recently a friend recommended a local painter to me and I decided to see his talents for myself. I brought a photograph taken last summer of a group of friends and I at "Dinosaur Land" in Virginia.

The painter became excited when we saw the photo and exclaimed, "King Kong!" I guess it is a universally known icon. Who knew??? Today I went to collect the finished work and I am delighted with the results. It is a masterpiece. What to you think?

Beach Days

2011-05-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things about Nouakchott is the magnificent beach... I was lucky to spend two days this weekend lounging under the sun. The glorious Atlantic!

Cooking Class

2011-05-26T15:52:00.000-07:00

Wednesday was "Africa Day" in Mauritania. Since everyone had the day off, some friends organized a cooking class. Appropriately, they asked our friend Sisay to teach us how to make some of her favorite Ethiopian recipes. Her lesson included misir wot, doro wot, ingera, and tibs. Here is the recipe for misir wot:

1 cup red lentils

3 onions- pureed

1/2 head garlic- pressed

3 TBSP berbere chili powder

1 tsp ginger root- grated

3 fresh tomatoes- chopped

3-4 TBSP oil

3 basil flower buds (leaves removed)

1/2 tsp "seven spice"

1 tsp salt

3-4 cups water

Sautee the onions 10-15 minutes over a medium heat, then add oil
Add ground tomatoes and salt then let simmer 10 minutes
Add 1/2 cup water and let simmer 15 minutes, uncovered
Add berbere and 1/2 cup more water and let simmer 15 minutes
Add garlic and ginger and then cover pot and let simmer 20 minutes
Add lentils (washed) and 1 cup water, let cook 15 minutes
Add more water, 1 cup or as needed, and let cook 15 minutes
Add more water, 1 cup or as needed, and let cook 15 minutes
Add basil + seven spice
Remove cover and let cook ten more minutes
Remove from heat and serve with ingera. Enjoy!

I hope that I can make this recipe one day... but I know that it will never taste as delicious as the magic that Sisay creates in the kitchen!

Roots Club

2011-05-25T20:27:00.000-07:00

Today I visited the Roots Club at my friend's high school in Nouakchott. It is a new after-school English Club formed this year.

I love extracurricular activities. I remember really getting involved during my first year in college when I got assigned a work study job at the "Activities Center." I connected students with volunteer activities in the community and organized Blood Drives, campus clean-ups, and coordinated many campaigns and programs. I loved it. I started volunteering at a safe house for women and joined a handful of clubs.

This love for extracurricular clubs grew more during my time in New York when I worked to support teachers and students in running after school clubs that raised awareness of global issues, such as a lack of clean water and access to education. I believe that incredible learning can take place outside of the walls of the traditional classroom.

In Mauritania, I have been so inspired by students' strong leadership skills and high motivation in the English Clubs I have visited. Today was no exception. The students coordinated an event and each student prepared speeches, in which they articulated the club's goals and summary of activities. They also showed a video of Mr. Bean and wrote on the board that "We will present Mr. Bean, America's funniest man, to have fun and make Ms. Delia laugh." The students are so darling!

I wish that more schools in Mauritania had English Clubs. There is so much potential for these clubs to grow and provide a place for coordinated activities and events in schools throughout the country, such as spelling and writing competitions. I hope that more teachers become motivated to create and facilitate clubs in their schools and I will continue to think of creative ways that I can continue to support these initiatives.

Appetite

2011-05-24T04:52:00.000-07:00

I lost my appetite about a week ago and have no idea where to find it. Nothing sounds good to me. I feel nauseous. I survived the first few days mostly eating peanut butter but even that seems unappealing to me now. I keep eating because I know I need to but I would prefer to just stick to liquids. Bissap still tastes good. As does coffee.

I keep trying to visualize my favorite foods (basil, cilantro, coconut milk, avocado, chocolate...) in the hopes that it will inspire hunger. Yet even that doesn't seem to work.

I hope I find it soon.

Anticipation

2011-05-23T03:29:00.000-07:00

This year I have planned something really special for my students: A class retreat! It is a totally new idea in Mauritania and my students are really excited! We will rent buses and spend three days camping together. We will have workshops and activities, all planned and led by the students.

One of the activities they have planned is a football match between the two classes. They have taken the challenge so seriously that they are holding daily training sessions in preparation. Yesterday they invited me to join them.

I feel very lucky to have had such a remarkable group of students this year.

My Kittens

2011-05-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

I have an update on the kittens living outside my front door. I am still feeding them a can of sardines a day, with a treat of tuna once a week. Someone has stolen two bowls and three plates so now I have to use plastic plates.

My kitties are getting BIG and Mama cat still tries to intimidate me. Sometimes she succeeds. She likes block the exit from my building and growl as fierce as she can while giving me the evil eye. I still don't get close to them but smile every day when I enter or leave my house. How could I not when they are hiding in the cutest of places?

Independent Women

2011-05-20T16:53:00.000-07:00

Tonight I had a pleasure of visiting one of my students at his house. He was kind enough to pick me up at my house even though his house is located in the countryside far outside of Nouakchott. On the way there we passed many camels and little tents where people sell the milk. Many people from Nouakchott drive there to have picnics where they drink fresh milk, make tea, and sit on the sand dunes. Surprisingly, there were just as many cars at ten pm on the way back!

We sat at my students house, under a tent, drinking tea and talking for hours. I got to meet my his darling nine month old child and I was served a delicious meal. Most importantly of all, I got to meet his incredible wife who makes melehfas, traditional veils worn by most Mauritanian women. She showed me how she ties the thread to make designs that will later appear after the fabric is dyed. Her tools are simple, a standard needle and spool of thread.

I was mesmerized by her craftsmanship. My student was teasing me because I couldn't stop inspecting her hard work and asking her questions. She explained to me that there are two types of veils. One is cheaper cloth and requires less work. She sells them to the vendors in the market for about $17.The other is made with more expensive cotton and has more intricate designs. She sells these for $50. The photos below show the expensive type.

She complained that since she had a baby she can't make as many as she used to. She said that now she can make four veils a month for the intricate type of veil while it takes six days of work for the less expensive type, as pictured below.

She learned this trade from her mother and has since taught the techniques to all of her sisters. It has become a successful family business. She said that she has never made a veil that she couldn't sell. I ordered some melehfas from her and was absolutely charmed by her work ethic and humbleness. I was teasing my student that his wife earns more than he does, with his modest teacher salary it is very well possible!

I love meeting inspired women who work hard to perfect their crafts. I have definitely found a new friend. It is too bad that my student and his family live so far away, and of course that his wife doesn't speak a word of English. At least we have a good translator!

Count-down

2011-05-18T07:01:00.000-07:00

It looks like my contract in Mauritania is ending, without the possibility of renewal. My position will not be replaced. Since the day I arrived I planned on definitely staying a third year, if I was offered the opportunity. I was optimistic.

In February this year, the final positions for the 2011/2012 academic year were posted online and Mauritania was not on the list. Then I realized that I better start looking for another job. It is really too early to look though, since I actually won't need a new job until September. Since the program also cut most of the Africa positions this year, I guess my time as an English Language Fellow is drawing to a close. Just six more weeks. It is difficult to face an unknown future but I welcome the change. I know it will be hard to leave and I don't look forward to packing two years of living into boxes and saying goodbye to all my friends. I must start doing so now because six weeks is not enough time.

People keep asking me what I am doing next and I am ok with not having an answer. I am taking it all in stride with the knowledge that something better will come along when the time is right. In the mean time, I plan on having a nice vacation, doing a bit traveling, and enjoying the freedom of endless possibilities for the future.

Where the desert meets the sea

2011-05-17T08:49:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a trip to Nouadhibou. I have wanted to visit this place since I first arrived in Mauritania. My mind was filled with images of shipwrecks, trains, and gorgeous coast lines.

I went there to organize a workshop with the English teachers working there. The planning meetings filled the entire first day and the workshop and activities filled the second day, which meant that I didn't have much time to explore the city.

The teachers in Nouadhibou were wonderful. They led interactive activities and were very active participants throughout the day. In the evening we showed the film "To Sir, With Love" at the high school and had an evening of entertainment as well.

Though I had an excellent weekend, I didn't get a chance to really appreciate the charms of the city. I did see the shipwreck graveyard but I was too far away to take any good pictures. It is the largest in the world.

Most of the coastline seemed to be divided up by the various industries operating there. However, the train circled us everywhere we went. It is the longest train in the world.

Alter-ego: Game Show Host

2011-05-08T21:53:00.000-07:00

Today we played "Jeopardy" in my class. It was the end of the year celebration. I invited my colleagues to join me. They adopted the roles of timekeeper, score-keeper, and judges. I was the host of the show, wearing gold, glitter and a big smile throughout the event.

My first year students were the champions of the game, winning by only 200 points. It was a tough competition! The students all wrote the questions (each team wrote 20) and selected the categories. It was virtually impossible to guess the answers and yet despite this the students did manage to answer each-others questions, as well as their own. Of course, in my non-competitive nature I wanted everyone to win. That's not how the game is played! I presented each student with the same certificate and prize.

After the game was over, we all drank soda and watched the movie made by the first year students. It was a true celebration. It won't be the last one!!! We have lots of plans before the summer break officially begins and I have to say farewell.

I am so proud of my students this year. They really did an incredible amount of work in such a short period of time. Days like this are a reminder that I am very privileged to teach at the Ecole Normale Superieure.

Project-Based Learning

2011-05-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

This year I was so busy in my classroom creating projects. In total, my students created 14 videos and three "books." Because there is no academic calendar here I had no idea when the year would end. The last day of class was one month earlier than I expected it to be so I had to work around the clock with my students to finish the projects on time. Thankfully we were able to achieve our goal and complete everything. Now I have the enormous task of evaluating this brilliant work of my students! See for yourself:

Videos:

Guide to Mauritania:

Part One: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nRghZSXcc2k
Part Two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8HMtPSdjgA&feature=related
Part Three: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRL8ZVsiP4w
Part Four: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74meZS_cdJU&feature=related
Part Five: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrRcGRMlq5Y

Classroom Solutions Year 1

Part One: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVGO5FfHXTw
Part Two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxF4lEYz9SY
Part Three: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYC3h0sKkkY
Part Four: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxQ8-ulmUWA

Classroom Solutions Year 2

Part One: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2V1qysP6UQw
Part Two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_CgLl0BjK0
Part Three: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWWPWY2xKI4
Part Four: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GotAVtfFv7k

Documents:

Guide: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12307289/GuideENSMAY2011.pdf
Strategy Book Year 1: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12307289/StrategiesY1ENSMAY2011.pdf
Strategy Book Year 2: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12307289/StrategyProjectY2May2011.pdf

Today

2011-05-02T15:31:00.000-07:00

"Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence and toughness multiples toughness in a descending spiral of destruction."

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Off-Campus Poetry

2011-04-29T10:50:00.000-07:00

I was struck by the irony of the arrival of the distinguished writer Mukoma wa Ngugi, who arrived at the University of Nouakchott amidst violent strikes that resulted in the indefinite closing of the entire campus. Due to the current crisis, the University was forced to hold all of Mukoma wa Ngugi's lectures and workshops at an off-campus location. Unfortunately, this negatively impacted the potential impact these programs could have had, as not as many students were able to participate.

Mukoma wa Ngugi is the son of the world-renowned writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o, who happens to be my all-time favorite writer. Ngugi’s writing focuses heavily on the fight against corruption and cultural imperialism. In his recent book, Something Torn and New, Ngugi "argues that a renaissance of African languages is a necessary step in the restoration of African wholeness." The power of language is at the heart of the struggle happening on campus, where the students have become sharply divided based on ethnic and political lines. The arrival of Mukoma wa Ngugi during this time of turmoil seems like something out of a novel itself.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to attend any of the sessions due to scheduling conflicts with my classes at the teacher training college. However, I did have a chance to meet Mukoma wa Ngugi during two evenings of entertainment that consisted of marvelous blues music and poetry. It was a genuine honor to hear his perspective and listen to his stories.

I wish that more of the students could have participated in these programs. I hope that Mukoma wa Ngugi inspired the students to fight injustice using their pens instead of throwing rocks, the faculty to design courses that teach creativity and self-expression, and the administration to embrace a new era of transparency and equality.

I am from...

2011-04-28T05:46:00.000-07:00

These are some of my favorite poems written by my students this week as part of a class project:

I am from the high mountains, the mom of my country,

the tall amag jar that joins the sky with the earth

I am from the brown rocks, tall palms, and smooth golden dunes

I am from the hospitality in peace and courage in war

I am from the generous Acheilal and smiling Zriba

I am from the tall mosques, old books, and shiny circles of knowledge

I am from the Kesra and Tichtar, black dates and white zebda

I am from the hot sun, air stream, and stars’ jewels on the sky’s neck

I am from circles of music, nights of poetry, and firing chara

I am from having fun, creating friendship, and diving in music

-Mohamed

I am from the landscape from mountains and deserts

I am from the lakes and oasis

I’m from wind, light, and heat

It smells like a flower and tastes like a matured date

It’s like the garden of heaven

I’m from the land of actors, land of weapons and fighters

I’m from the land of the Holy Qur’an, peace, libraries, history, and clergymen

I’m from hospitality, tolerance, and knowledge

I’m from poetry and music

I’m from the land of turban, boubou, and sandals

I’m from Aich vindi and milk, fried corn, foamed tea and porridge

I’m from good nature, tattoos, and pretty brides

I’m from swimming, playing, and reading

I am from happiness, friendship and generosity

-Saad

I’m from Aioun, the land of landscape, and the land of hospitality

It is the same as when you’re in green paradise full of fantastic scenes
It’s comfortable and suitable

I’m from the carpets, pillows, and tea

I’m from Cheikhani, Salme Vall, and Mohamed Vall

I’m from listening and sharing information with each other

I'm from my mother put tattoos monthly and my father drinks tea

I’m from thinking twice before you act

I’m from going to the mosque each time to pray

I’m from mechoui, couscous, and Ballakh

I’m from the hot, sunny, and the rain

I’m from the celebrating and inviting each other, cooperating and helping brothers

I’m from swimming and playing football

-El Hussein

I am from the forest, trees and grass, breeze and harmattan, the mountains and hills

I am from axes, shovels, clay jars, bowls, and tadit

I am from Aly, Aida, and Aicha

I am from the daughter who never breastfed her son in the presence of her father

I am from the son who never smokes in front of elders

I am from calves and making tea

I am from milk, barbeque, and couscous

I am from leweid and the blind boy games

I am from the hot summer and flowers in the spring

I am from cattle and sheep

I am from ponds, puddles, and the mountains

-Sidi

I’m from where the breeze blows

I’m from where pillows replace beds

I’m from Ndeye, Sedik, and Elhadj

I’m from laaban-
when the aunt of the married woman should go with her to see whether she is a virgin or not

I’m from studying, working, helping others, and visiting relatives

I’m from an affectionate mother, playing with others, always fighting

I’m from the caste system where slaves cannot get married to their masters

I’m from tiere, rice and fish, carow, and mafe

I’m from hot and windy

I’m from cultivating rice and vegetables

I’m from looking for information from the net and commenting

-N'della

Redefining Roles

2011-04-24T05:36:00.000-07:00

Last year I was assigned to teach a class called "Oral Expressions" for pre-service teachers. I decided to do a video project, the first time I ever endeavored to use technology in the classroom. I only had twenty students and it seemed like a good way to have the students practice their presentation skills while also having fun.

I decided to do the same project again this year. Like last year, it has been a learning experience for me. Yet all of the planning and hard work paid off on the first day the students starting filming and returned with huge grins from the joy of filming in the "real world" and being taken as serious journalists and actors by everyone they encountered. This brave group of students dressed up as Pizzorno workers (public sanitation), old men, museum staff, villagers lost in the city, and nomads. Amazing!

Yesterday morning we started editing the video footage and a deep feeling of pride welled up inside of me as I watched my shy students turn into talented actors. We are a long way from finishing the project but I can't wait to share it...

Goat on a Leash

2011-04-22T17:11:00.000-07:00

Hilarious!

Spellbound

2011-04-21T21:21:00.000-07:00

Today I showed the film Spellbound as part of a movie series I started in December on the campus of the teacher training college. The monthly movie club has been a lot of fun and hopefully it helps our teacher-trainees to see some other teachers in action. I also invited University students and in-service teachers to join us because we have plenty of space!

Some of the University students who came decided to play along with the movie by spelling out the words with the movie contestants. I saw them writing down the correct spellings as they were read. At the end of the movie they came to ask me how to spell logorrhea, the final word from the movie. A teacher came to the rescue and spelled it for them. Of course I had no idea!

I wish that all movies could be so interactive- it makes watching it so much more engaging! Many of my students reported that this was the best movie we have watched so far, although that could be the subject of a great debate!

Sneak Peak

2011-04-20T09:10:00.000-07:00

I went out of town and came back to find KITTENS! A mama cat decided to move in to the courtyard outside my front door. She loves to hiss at me and is very protective of her little rascals. This morning I got a glimpse of one of them and his eye was all swollen. I decided that it is okay to spoil them.

I introduced them to the treat of canned tuna and then stood back to watch. The first to step out of their hiding place was a little fella and he went after the plate with radar precision. Soon the rest followed and the mama cleaned the plate after it was finished!

I don't think I made any new friends but at least I got to get a good look at the little darlings! I am desperate to pick one up to pet it but I decided not to do that so I have been on my best behavior when I see them. I keep my distance but I know that I will keep on bringing them treats until the day they disappear!

Multi-tasking camels

2011-04-17T09:21:00.000-07:00

Can camels read?

Teacher-trainees make me laugh

2011-04-17T07:41:00.000-07:00

I love teaching. I love my students. I believe that I have the best job in the entire world....

Here are some funny moments of the week:

One came to class wearing a fake beard, which he covered in chalk, and went off into the world to film his group segment for the class video project.
A different student told me that whenever his students asked him the name of a color he didn't know, he said, "that's pink." Now his students think that about ten different colors are all called, "pink."
Today a student gave me his flash drive to use for a group editing project and he had all this music on it. I asked him for one of the songs and he said I could take it. It was a rap song he recorded and it was brilliant!

I feel very grateful to meet students as dedicated, talented, and hard-working as the current group I am teaching now.

Kiffa kaleidoscope

2011-04-16T08:48:00.000-07:00

I recently organized a workshop in Kiffa for all of the teachers in the region. After the workshop we went shopping. I was in a celebratory mood because one hundred percent of the teachers came to the workshop. They were enthusiastic and appreciative. It was perfect.

Top on the list of things to buy were Kiffa beads, glass beads made only in Mauritania. Even more than the Kiffa beads, I loved the old stone ones. I went a little overboard but I couldn't stop myself when all the ladies opened their purses and pulled out more precious glass beads. It was a bonanza!

Not on the list of things to buy was a necklace for a cow, which is what one lady told me this item was used for:

Does any body know if this is true or not? Another thing not on the list was a leather shotgun case, hand painted by the woman in the photo below. Although now I am thinking that maybe I should have bought it, as I am sure she could have used the cash. I bought some beads from her instead.

I don't remember the last time I had more fun shopping. Kiffa seemed to be overflowing with treasures.

Assaba

2011-04-15T11:29:00.000-07:00

I recently traveled to the Assaba region for the first time. No one ever told me how beautiful it was there so I was pleasantly surprised! Mauritania is stunning.

All I wanted to do was let that horn wail...

2011-04-01T17:41:00.000-07:00

I forgot it was a no-trombone zone.

I had just been telling my friend that it seemed like music permeated every aspect of life on the islands. Then we came across this sign. I will let Cesaria take it from here...

Islands in the Stream

2011-04-01T07:26:00.000-07:00

I spent my spring break from classes in Cape Verde this year. I have a colleague from the same program that I am doing in Mauritania who teaches at the University there. It was a great opportunity for me to visit the islands with an amazing tour guide. My friend Melanie from Nouakchott came along as well, and of course we all packed in the fun!

First, we spent a few days hanging out in Praia.

We visited the UNESCO World Heritage site Cidade Velha and hiked up the mountain to visit the old Portuguese Fort.

There were amazing views of the ancient village below.

Then we moved along to Fogo, the island of fire. The big attraction there was a huge volcano that last erupted in 1995.

The gorgeous beaches have sparkly black sand...

Our hotel had a marvelous view of the cliffs below

Back in Praia, we traveled to the other side of island to visit another amazing beach town, Farafall.

All in all, it was a fabulous vacation!

Dakar = Love.

2011-03-31T05:25:00.000-07:00

I left my house yesterday at 5:03 am. I arrived at my wonderful friend's hotel in Dakar at 18:00. Not bad! We only had two flat tires along the way. We didn't even stop for a snack. As soon as I got in I took a long hot shower, the first one in a long time, and then we were off to enjoy a delicious bowl of pad thai! Next stop was for a nice coffee a fun live music venue (although we were too tired to stay for the live music).

We woke up early, went out for a lovely breakfast and then I went in search of the Cape Verte consulate. A police officer joined me in the search and ended up leading me to the office of the Cape Verte airline company. They sent me in a taxi to the consulate where the friendly staff helped me out. A few minutes later, I was free from the worries of completing my mission and roaming the corridors of Dakar's new shopping mall. There is an Apple Store, among many others. I bought a chocolate bar at the fancy grocery store and took in the lovely views of the Atlantic coast. So far it has been a perfect visit to Dakar. This has been a fabulous Spring Break already and the adventure has just begun!

Neighbors

2011-03-30T09:48:00.000-07:00

My neighbors and their two wild toddlers with mountains of untamed curls and endless demands for chocolate moved out last week, taking with them the laughter and unpredictability of a three-year-old who shares an equal love for hugs and pinches.

My neighbors left behind many friends. A few days after they left, I saw many of them crawling under my door and through the windows: Cockroaches left without a meal, looking for a new sanctuary. My empty shelves are not inviting. I’m not the only one who misses the generosity of my neighbors.

I love Baba Maal

2011-03-28T08:07:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Aly recently gave me some of the old Baaba Maal songs I have been looking for. I have been listening to these newly found songs non-stop. These recordings even enabled me to win a bet with one of my colleagues during our last trip together. On the way back from the hotel we were discussing what year Baaba Maal was born and the driver remembered that the answer had been mentioned in one of the songs we had previously listened to. We all stayed in the car waiting for Tidjane Ane to settle the debate and reveal the answer in his introduction... I won 1,000 Ougiya (three dollars) and I am still awaiting my payment!

Baaba Maal was born in 1953 and so he has made literally hundreds of recordings. My favorite is the traditional music, called yela. However, there isn't a single album that I don't like. His music continually gives me strength to focus on my work and remember what is really important in life. I can honestly say that Baaba Maal has been the soundtrack for every important decision I have made in the past ten years. So far, his music has always steered me in the right direction. I heard that Baaba Maal is set to visit Nouakchott again in the next few months. I hope that I can have the chance to see him before the end of the school year, and the end of my contract in Mauritania. In the meantime I know that his music will help me decide where I want to live next. I will always be proud to announce that I love Baaba Maal!

Poppin' & Lockin' in the 'Chott

2011-03-22T17:47:00.000-07:00

The universal language of breakdancing!

No desks, no chairs, no books, no one cares

2011-03-11T17:05:00.000-08:00

Since January, I have been traveling to the different cities in partnership with the Ministry of Education to lead regional educator workshops. The workshops have three sessions, one led my myself, one led by an English Inspector, and a third session led by the teachers.

I decided to share a workshop on the challenges and solutions for teaching large, multi-level classes. I started the workshop by asking teachers to brainstorm a list of the challenges they encounter. Top on the list in each city has been a lack of materials- notably text books, desks, chalkboards, and chairs. One of my former students who is now a teacher reported having 120 students in a classroom equipped with only with only five desks. The rest of the students sit on the floor.

I witnessed this challenge first-hand during a recent visit to Maghama High School, where the majority of the 70 students per class have to sit on the floor. I was surprised to see the students sitting on old pieces of wood, with protruding nails and other dangerously sharp objects. The students also sit on the old, broken desks, balancing as best as they can. The teachers said that they often fall during class, creating a loud disturbance, as well as risking a serious injury.

The second part of my workshop has been to ask the teachers to brainstorm a list of possible solutions to these challenges. They came up with some creative ideas that I hope they will put into action. Now that I am back in Nouakchott, I am trying to think about what I can do help the teachers and students get the basic materials they need to teach and learn. I decided that for now the least I can is to share what I have seen with as many people as possible. A picture is worth a thousand words. When I see these pictures, I feel a pain deep inside my heart.

For Aziz

2011-03-11T11:44:00.000-08:00

Earthquake Blues

by Ishmael Reed

Well the cat started actin funny
and the dog howled all night long
I say the cat started actin very frightful
and the birds chirped all night long
The ground began to rumble
As the panic hit the town
Mr. Earthquake Mr. Earthquake
you don't know good from bad
Mr. Earthquake Mr. Earthquake
you don't know good from bad
You kill the little child in its nursey
You burn up the window's pad

The buildings started swaying
like a drunk man walking home
The buildings started swaying
The people they were running
and the hurt folks began to moan

Mr. Earthquake Mr. Earthquake
you don't know good from bad
Mr. Earthquake Mr. Earthquake

Magnificent Maghama English Club

2011-03-08T16:22:00.000-08:00

This past weekend the teachers who coordinate the Maghama English Club invited me to visit their school for their first annual English Camp. I was delighted to be able to travel there and participate in the event.

One of the things I like the best about my work in Mauritania is to be able to work with inspired and motivated teachers throughout the country. Together, we have organized many workshops and built a strong network of educators for the Mauritania Teachers Association. I am always looking for ideas and opportunities to increase collaboration among teachers.

English Clubs seem like a perfect venue to increase student engagement, while simultaneously providing a nation-wide activity for teachers to create in their communities. Yet there isn't currently a network of English Clubs, and there seems to be little collaboration among teachers coordinating clubs in different cities. I decided that helping teachers to create a network of clubs that already exist would be a great project. This is one of the many reasons I was enthusiastic to travel to Maghama and see an English Club in action!

I left my house in Nouakchott at 6:30 am and arrived in Maghama at 11:00 pm. Maghama is only about 600 km away, but the roads and traveling conditions are really difficult. Immediately when I arrived we had a planning meeting for the following two days of the camp. I offered to give the club some money to buy drinks, etc. but the teachers informed me that the Club members had already raised funds to buy the ingredients to make donuts and bissap for the weekend refreshments. At that moment, I knew that this was no ordinary group of students. And definitely, no ordinary group of teachers!

The Camp consisted of two days of activities from morning until the evening. A group of teachers (from all disciplines) divided the 50 students into five groups and each led a set of hour-long activities. The afternoon sessions were student-led, and included an interactive game of "Genius in the Grass" as well as a football match. The students demonstrated ownership in all of the Camp' activities and took an active leadership role.

The English Club at Maghama High School is a brilliant example of how effective students and teachers can be when they work together to make learning fun. The students' strong English skills are a testament to the excellent work of their teachers. The teachers' willingness to invest so much time into extracurricular school activities is a testament to their commitment. Their self-reliance and dedication make them a perfect example for others to follow. I only wish that every school in the country had a group of teachers and students as motivated as the team at Maghama High School!