24 Juilliet 2006
The night before last, we returned to M'Beidia from Center Days at the
lycee, at little behind schedule, and in the windy dark. We had spent
Saturday in the gardens of Rinjiao (us blessed Agfo and EE peeps), a
large government preserve with every kind of tree in evidence and
verdant greenness everywhere. Its hard to believe that this actually
is Mauritania, but the bacteria ridden waters of the Senegalese River
are only twenty meters away, so just barely. Its funny, the green life
that IS Senegal starts even before the water reaches shore - 3/4 of
the way across, it starts to bloom and grow on any little scrap of
land floating in the water. It like it just can't wait to get to get
there. Senegal, if you haven't noticed, has the reputation of being
the land of milk and honey (and beer) among us Mauritanians.
The night before we left for Rinjiao it rained again. Actually, the
night before that too- along with awesomely weird displays of
horizontal lightning. But this night was the first real storm- it came
down in torrents, and the sand almost instantly flooded, forming huge
lakes in the lycees courtyard. Some of us, the sillier ones, deigned
to sand-mud wrestle, but I declined. I had gotten thoroughly wet and
was FREEZING. As soon as the rain starts around here, the temperature
drops precipitously about ten degrees. I'm not sure what my cold
threshold is now, but since I've adjusted somewhat to the heat, I
probably get the goosebumps somewhere around 80 degrees. Brrrrr....
Anyway, we're at rain number three of the season, and counting.
After Rinjiao, we of M'Beidia-is and Sebwalla-ic origin waited around
for the car at the home of Rinjiao's Pulaar facilitator
'I-can't-remember-his-name'. The children, though Pulaar speaking,
were pretty much the same, by turns shy, curious and brazen. We
patty-caked for a while, and then retired to the house, which compared
to Haddou's dump of a mud hut, is a palatial villa, with it's actual
walls with color, cement floors and greater than TWO rooms. By
American standards, I guess its still a barren, dusty furniture-less
shack, but whatever.
Later me mingled on the roof, the seven of us and the facilitator's pals,
amidst the great breeze, and views of donkeys and Senegal. One of the
friends was an English teacher and spoke it Excellently, so we chatted
for a bit. He was very handsome, kind, and smelled great. So that's
fun.
By the time Mohamed came in the car to pick us up, it was dark and we
ended up turning randomly off the road into the desert to (purposely
or not) enter M'Beidia from another way. I had a small escort home of
tween boys, a good thing too, considering I lack their apparent
ability to see in the dark. Sahaba was joyed to see me again after my
absence, smiling in the firelight and patting my hand. Abu was so
happy he could hardly speak, and just came to sit in my lap instead.
The night before last, we returned to M'Beidia from Center Days at the
lycee, at little behind schedule, and in the windy dark. We had spent
Saturday in the gardens of Rinjiao (us blessed Agfo and EE peeps), a
large government preserve with every kind of tree in evidence and
verdant greenness everywhere. Its hard to believe that this actually
is Mauritania, but the bacteria ridden waters of the Senegalese River
are only twenty meters away, so just barely. Its funny, the green life
that IS Senegal starts even before the water reaches shore - 3/4 of
the way across, it starts to bloom and grow on any little scrap of
land floating in the water. It like it just can't wait to get to get
there. Senegal, if you haven't noticed, has the reputation of being
the land of milk and honey (and beer) among us Mauritanians.
The night before we left for Rinjiao it rained again. Actually, the
night before that too- along with awesomely weird displays of
horizontal lightning. But this night was the first real storm- it came
down in torrents, and the sand almost instantly flooded, forming huge
lakes in the lycees courtyard. Some of us, the sillier ones, deigned
to sand-mud wrestle, but I declined. I had gotten thoroughly wet and
was FREEZING. As soon as the rain starts around here, the temperature
drops precipitously about ten degrees. I'm not sure what my cold
threshold is now, but since I've adjusted somewhat to the heat, I
probably get the goosebumps somewhere around 80 degrees. Brrrrr....
Anyway, we're at rain number three of the season, and counting.
After Rinjiao, we of M'Beidia-is and Sebwalla-ic origin waited around
for the car at the home of Rinjiao's Pulaar facilitator
'I-can't-remember-his-name'. The children, though Pulaar speaking,
were pretty much the same, by turns shy, curious and brazen. We
patty-caked for a while, and then retired to the house, which compared
to Haddou's dump of a mud hut, is a palatial villa, with it's actual
walls with color, cement floors and greater than TWO rooms. By
American standards, I guess its still a barren, dusty furniture-less
shack, but whatever.
Later me mingled on the roof, the seven of us and the facilitator's pals,
amidst the great breeze, and views of donkeys and Senegal. One of the
friends was an English teacher and spoke it Excellently, so we chatted
for a bit. He was very handsome, kind, and smelled great. So that's
fun.
By the time Mohamed came in the car to pick us up, it was dark and we
ended up turning randomly off the road into the desert to (purposely
or not) enter M'Beidia from another way. I had a small escort home of
tween boys, a good thing too, considering I lack their apparent
ability to see in the dark. Sahaba was joyed to see me again after my
absence, smiling in the firelight and patting my hand. Abu was so
happy he could hardly speak, and just came to sit in my lap instead.
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