Iyaak Il-Khayr

2 Aout 2006

Lots of interesting things have been happening in the past few days:
for starters - yesterday the ballon (ballon meaning 'ball' and
therefore soccer) team left for Kaedi to play in a tournament there,
what exactly is meant by the word tournament in this case is, as of
yet, unclear to me and my fellow nasrani. In fact, until yesterday we
didn't even know that they had a team in the normal sense of the word,
rather than that of a random sometimes conglomeration of disaffected
youth (I kid). Nevertheless, yesterday two vans pulled out of M'Beidia
(one filled with the team, clad in actual numbered uniforms, and
topped by an assortment of teenaged supporting stars - water-boy types
and the like - and one packed full of fans going to cheer on the good
fellows. At around 3 pm we went to see what all the commotion was
about, and with practically the remaining populace of M'Beidia, saw
off the team with clapping and singing and that weird trilling call
they make with their tongues (I did not partake of this).

In class, for the second day in a row, we went to see and interview
some of the most elderly inhabitants of the village, to get a history
of M'Beidia. Part of the difficulty in speaking neither the language
of the interviewee, nor the language of your TRANSLATOR (thanks
Haddou), is that responses tend to be boiled down to an
un-illuminating few. In general, "life used to be better", "the young
don't respect the elderly" and "we never used to have the problems with soil/water/rain/crops that we have now" came back again
and again. No kidding folks. I could have gotten that response with a
few substitutions, from any crotchety old person on any street in
America. Nevertheless, we did get a few intriguing facts about a
long-ago drought, deforestation, the killing-off of animal species,
and horse-racing (for real).

Later in the evening, after tea at Maimouna's and my mini-makaresh
bath (it was lovely), a growing ruckus of a crowd signaled the return
of the team. Did they win? Did they not? Well, I would later find out
that it was only the fan-van come-back so far, and not the footballers
proper. Regardless, still wet from my shower, I followed the children
(it was twilight) and a wildly galloping loosed horse (this happens
strangely often) to the place where the action was.

After a few minutes of crowd wandering and clapping and hand-holding,
a man took my hand and led me back to his porch in a very 'you
shouldn't be standing amongst the children' sort of way, and we spread
out a hsera on his porch and sat in the (now) moonlight. His is one of
the nicer houses in town; we walk by it everyday on our way to water
the garden. His name is Mohamed I-can't-remember (last names are
tricky here) He's thirty, lives with his family, owns a shop in
Senegal and likes soccer. Big surprise there. He's very stern looking,
like many of the men here, but he was very nice and we had a good
little chat, such as my language would provide.

It's strange that I'm almost never afraid of anyone here, (meaning
afraid of talking-to) like I was in America. I thought that the
foreignness, and the language barrier would make it worse, but so far
it's only made it better. Maybe it's just that everything is so new
and different here that I can't afford to be afraid.

After our chat, Abu came and got me and we ate dinner (couscous and
cow-peas) with Habiba, and when I was finished, all the kids pounced
on the bowl to eat before the (now) gathering sandstorm. You can see
it on the horizon; it blocks out the stars like a dark gas. After we
put away everything inside, we sat out in the wind and dust. Habiba
and crazy-eyed, afro-ed Joka were still eating couscous from the bowl
by the glow of a flashlight, even with the sand flying everywhere. How
fucked-up is that?

Anyway, when the dirt and wind got too bad, I hid Abu's and Habiba's
faces in my chest, protecting them from the sand with my shirt. When
we finally went inside and Sahaba put me in my little house, and
stuffed up the windows, the last thing she said was "Rgid Mohamed"
(sleep Mohamed), "Iyaak il-khayr" (I hope there is peace) That last
one they use to meaningless extinction in their greetings 500 times a
day, but this time it actually seemed to fit.

Of course, it turns out that the rain totaled 6 drops and all the
soccer rowdiness was for a tie score (1 to 1). But oh well. Let the
people have there fun. Mashallah.