Adrar Vacation...part one

Mauritanians take a spring break from school at the end of their second trimester. This year the break fell on the week of March 29th. Interestingly, many Mauritanians call this break "les vacances de Pâques," which means "Easter vacation." This is probably a remenant of French colonialism since Mauritanians more or less adopted the French school system. However, our Mauritanian friends didn't really seem to understand why we found this name odd in an overwhelmingly Muslim country, even after we explained that Easter falls on April 12th this year.

Since Mike and I have never been away from the Mauritanian coast, we decided it was about time we explored some of the inland terrain. We also wanted to visit our good friends living in Atar and Chinguetti. There are a couple ways one can travel from NDB to the Adrar region. We decided to take the more interesting and direct route by way of the train to Choum. 

The train is operated by the Mauritanian mining company, SNIM, that extracts iron ore from mines near a town called Zouarate in northeastern Mauritania. They transmit the iron ore via train to Nouadhibou, where it is loaded onto boats and exported to foreign buyers. It was once the longest train in the world. 

The train is also a common route of travel to the inner northern regions of Mauritania. There are a few options for those wanting to ride the train. You can pay to ride in the passenger cars or ride for free in the iron ore wagons. For the trip to Atar, we chose to ride in the passenger car as opposed to the empty iron ore wagons, because we planned to ride in the wagons with the iron ore on our way back home to NDB.

The trip by passenger car was less than desirable as it was very crowded and uncomfortable. However, after a long 12-hour journey we reached Choum and got off the train to find a truck that would take us the remaining three hours to Atar. We arrived safely in Atar and were glad to be welcomed into the beautiful home of our PCV friends, Sam and Kerri.

Mike wants to share in the story-telling for our vacation, so I will let him continue the story from there. If you're interested in seeing pictures and videos from our vacation, go to the Our Photos link in the right hand column. Hope everyone is doing well!  

Froc and roll

Taking advice from my sister, I'm introducing this PROM with a 'guess what it is' idea I'm sure she stole from World magazine.  As a child, she got that cool subscription while I was stuck with Highlights.  Yeah, thanks mom and dad.  I'm only 1 year behind Gina; not a perpetual 4 year old!  Those pictures where you had to find the missing objects, hmm...I'm pretty sure that guy's head is missing.  Anyway, I'm just venting.  Highlights, give me a break.  Here's the photo: 

 

Some of you may know straight away or have a pretty good idea, especially if you are another volunteer.  This is the embroidery on a traditional Pulaar outfit for males called a Froc.  PROM #6: My new Froc (material: 5,000 UM, tailoring: 3,000 UM)

Hopefully it is obvious, but I had our gifted tailor sew a guitar into the already cool design.  We met this tailor, Bala, through a mutual friend (Katie's counterpart, Mariam).  He did a great job and I'm looking forward to wearing it during the next fete.  I want to save this outfit for a special occasion, it's not for everyday "around the house" wear.   

Clothes are an important part of the Mauritanian culture in many ways.  There are different styles for different ethnic groups, people buy new clothes for special occasions, clothes are often used as status symbols (I've heard stories about people spending upwards of 50,000 UM or more on a tradtional Hassaniya Bou-bou [similar to a poncho]), and the making of these traditional clothes can be a beneficial source of income for your family.  For instance, El Hussein, my host-brother, is Bala's apprentice.  One day, he will become a tailor and this will provide a good source of income for his family.

That's about it for this one.  Pretty cut and dry.  No funny story about getting the material.  No embarrassing anecdote of me doing anything culturally inappropriate.  No froc-induced riots.  Sorry to let you down.  Next time, maybe I'll yell jibberish at Bala when he takes my inseam.  That would make for an interesting blog...

Mike (frocin') out.

So what's a sensibilisation anyway?

Sensibiliser in French means "to sensitize." Sensibilisation is therefore the word Peace Corps Mauritania uses to describe the frequent educational activities performed by many of its volunteers in the health sector.

So as many of you know (and tease me about endlessly), I like to research. I just get this weird urge to find out as much information as humanly possible when I'm first starting a project. So for the past six months I've been doing a lot of reading and researching about health education, health standards for developing nations, and how to go about evaluating needs and motivating action.

One would think that with a background in nursing I would know quite a bit about health education already...and I do. However, arriving in Africa, I felt completely out of my element. Medications are called by completely different names, health standards here are by no means the equivalent of JCAHO, the entire structure of the health system (who runs hospitals, how health professionals are educated, etc) is completely different, and we're dealing with a whole host of health problems that are rarely, if ever, seen in the United States health system (malaria, nutritional deficiencies, etc.).

Of course, Peace Corps Mauritania does its best to train health volunteers about all these issues during pre-service training, but the spectrum is so broad and our backgrounds so varied that it's very difficult to cover everything. Additionally, culture and language learning are a very high priority early on, and therefore have a tendency to take precedence over sector related training.

So now, after over nine months of living in Mauritania, I feel that I'm finally gaining an understanding of the broader picture, although I still have a LOT to learn. I am now able to give "sensibilisations" in French on a variety of health related topics. I understand the general strengths and weaknesses of the Nouadhibou health system. I also have tons of project possibilities floating around in my head. So hopefully, after all that research, I'll actually be able to turn some of those ideas into realities. Inshallah!

The English Club of Nouadhibou (E.C.NDB)

English Education volunteers in the RIM (and elsewhere, I'm sure) are expected to produce secondary projects in addition to their hours of teaching at a public school. One such activity that has been popular and successful in the past is an English Club. Basically, an English Club is an extra-curricular class for the more advanced/motivated students. So, after administering the first exam of the year (in December), I used top test grades, good attendance records and homework participation as prerequisites to be invited to said club.
Out of my 7 classes, I chose between 4-5 'advanced' students and 2-3 what I will call 'bubble' students (students who are motivated and work hard but may not know the difference between hot and cold or spell 'she' as 'che' ["oh so your subject is not a pronoun but a militant, Argentinian revolutionary, I see, yeah...Che DOES like tea."{this is just here because I wanted a parenthetical reference inside a parenthetical reference inside a parenthetical reference...what was I saying?}])
Before I go into the details of my club, I thought this an appropriate time to relate yet another story of my recent past in the Bou so you will have a better idea of just what after-school groups are like here.
Okay, first trimester, mid-Decemberish, still getting my feet wet to the routine and just massacring the local languages. After finishing classes one long 6-hour Monday, a student approaches me with a tiny slip of paper. On the slip of paper was nothing but typed Arabic save the handwritten Roman alphabet letters: "Maykee"...my name apparently. After a confusing conversation in which the non-English speaking student switched between Hassaniya, French and even Spanish, I discovered this was an invitation to an after school club. "Cool!" I thought, "People want to invite me places! I'm making connections at my school!"
On Saturday, the day of the monthly club meetings, I finish my classes and head to the meeting. Keep in mind, I have no idea what this club is for AND I've been working in this city for a whopping month. I arrive to the reserved classroom 10 minutes early for the noon meeting and sit near the back. After greeting many students and attempting, unsuccessfully, to discover the nature of this club the meeting begins at around 1:00 with the arrival of 2 other teachers. These teachers, along with me, are ushered to the FRONT of the class and are seated at a table FACING around 100 students. Okay, no big deal. Good seat for watching, right?
One student begins singing a "call to prayer" type chant through a PA system crafted by Thomas Edison and we're off. The first teacher stands to thunderous applause and proceeds to deliver a 20 minute prepared speech in Arabic. I'm sitting right next to the guy and can see his speech papers with the bullet points and everything. He's speaking at somewhere close to the speed of sound because I could swear I heard a sonic boom, no wait that was my heart beating. "Am I supposed to speak here?" I kept thinking. During this man's oral thesis (which receives more applause and laughing, with not at) the other teacher, a friendly, popular man named Mohamed Vall, quietly saunters over to me and whispers something in my ear. "Je ne parle pas Arabique!" I stammer. So he switches to French, and all I think I hear is "introduce yourself...speak...5 minutes...donkey...easy...sports...hassaniya." Without hesitation I just nod and await my impending doom.
Next, Mohamed Vall speaks with more gusto which generates even more applause. Their first meeting of the year is getting off to a raucous albeit flawless start. Two, what must have been, great speeches and now a visitor from America! Let's pass the mic to the white guy, you know, Maykee! I stand up, grab the mic and speak. The mic is dead, almost as if it knew I had no chance of saying anything meaningful. Off the hook? No, they set up another mic, one of those small mics that clip on to your shirt. I of course just hold it and proceed to say, in French, "I'm not sure what this club is, can someone tell me?"
Mohamed Vall pipes up, "I just told you Maykee!"
Then, a student stands up and says, "Just talk about culture and sports!"
"Of course! Why hadn't I thought of that?" I thought.
I said, "En francais?"
To which the student says, "Non, en anglais!" ("let me interject here briefly: Maykee is completely STUNNED that they want him to talk in English," says Maykee's foreign language area of his brain, now with hurt pride)
So I spend the next 5 minutes talking about culture and sports from America in English. Longest 5 minutes of my life. I start ranting about my high school knowledge bowl for god's sake! I don't know what the hell I was saying and I guarantee they sure as hell didn't. Impromptu speeches, awesome. And that was it. A club of 100 students that meet and just listen to speeches of teachers about culture and sports.
After this bizarre experience (and yes I have been invited back to this club, and yes I did go, and yes pretty much the same thing happened again) I started to debate whether an after school group was the greatest idea or not. After receiving some great advice from other volunteers from around the country, I proceeded and am so glad I did. The English Club is just a great way to interact with the better students on a higher academic level and teaching a language makes that level more personal as well, I think.
We've met 4 times. Here's a quick overview of what we did:
Meeting 1: Critical thinking riddles (i.e. Fati is taller than Selma but shorter than Khadija, Sofia is taller than Fati but shorter than Noura...), advanced vocabulary, and nominations of club officers and names for the club (which included ECNDB, the Perfect Class, and Club Obama)
Meeting 2: Election of club officers and name, Adverbs/Adjectives, "build an interesting sentence" exercise
Meeting 3: Syllables, suffixes, lists of rhyming words, how to write poetry: limericks and haikus (thanks Rob for the haiku suggestions, they worked so well!)
Meeting 4: Practice Bac #1 (this is just a practice exam resembling their end-of-year test that determines if they go on to university or not.)
The club has run smoothly so far. All but 4 students showed up the first time and it has slowly ebbed to around 15 or 20 which is expected of any organized activity here.
Another interesting side effect, other students, not many, are trying to improve their performance in regular class to get an invitation to the club. The day I passed out the invitations, you'd have thought I was giving out visas. These kids went ape. It was actually kind of awkward since I had to turn down so many students and so many wanted to come. And most just wanted the slip of paper and nothing more.

 I guess that's about it. This club is keeping my sanity together through the regular classes, we're almost at the end of the 2nd trimester, and I'm counting down the Mondays (I hate Mondays)
Maykee out.

Our family,

7 children, 2 parents

excellent people

-E.C.NDB                                

WAIST 2009

Mike and I spent the past week visiting Dakar, Senegal for the West African Invitational Softball Tournament (WAIST). Neither Mike or I actually played softball this year, but we had a great time cheering on our teams from Peace Corps Mauritania and relaxing in this beautiful city.

Peace Corps Mauritania took three teams to the tournament this year. There are apparently two divisions: competitive and social. All three of our teams were in the social division, meaning that teams must be co-ed (and have to follow some other rules too, but I'm not sure what they are).

Our A-team was very impressive, especially considering that there are very few opportunities for them to practice together as a team throughout the year. Peace Corps Mauritania has won the WAIST social division frequently over the past few years, but were beat in 2008 by a local team from Senegal. This year, we played the same team in the final game and WON! Yeah! It was very exciting!

For pictures of our team playing (and winning), check out our pictures on Picasa. For many Mauritanian PCVs, WAIST is a time for crazy haircuts and outfits...so don't be surprised by the silliness you're about to see.

Pardon, avez-vous tugaduga?

PROM #5: Tuga-duga, gerti maffe, PEANUT BUTTER!
(small sack ~6oz. = 100um, 40 cents)

Okay, apologies first. I know I missed January. But my mom had the great idea of making Katie's post on the new mail box the missing PROM. So PROM #4 - RIM P.O. Box (6,000 um for the year/key). There...I know it's a cop-out, but tuff.

Second, thanks Carl! Our friend from Chinguetti gave us the following recipe for maffe a traditional RIM dish of peanut sauce over rice.

1 cup rice
meat (optional)
1 med. onion
1 small can tomato paste (~6 oz.)
3-4 cloves garlic
~6 oz. peanut butter
2 tblsp jashtini (ground-up okra, good luck with this one in the states)
salt, black and red pepper to taste
1 1/2 cup water

Saute the onion and minced garlic with the meat in large pan. Once onion tender/meat cooked thru, add tomato paste, water, jashtini and some spices. Simmer to a boil. Start rice in separate container (just cook rice the normal way, and when I say normal I mean normal for the RIM people, not you crazy microwave people, if you don't know how to cook rice...sorry). Mix peanut butter with a little water until it turns from a paste into more of a suace, add to pan, reduce heat, add more spices as desired. Put cooked rice on large plate, add sauce on top, bon appetit!

This is probably my favorite local dish, so those of you at home, try it and let me know what you think, or wait 1 1/2 years because I will definitely be cooking it a lot at home. It's a massive shot of protein! The only downside, not being able to ask for tugaduga at your grocery store. I love that word, it is Pulaar. That language is so rhythmic and cool!

Hope all is well.

Mike

P.S. - the spices are the salt, black and red pepper and anything else you may want to add, just to taste.  I know there isn't a generic cannister just marked "spice." I learned that lesson long ago...Damn you streetside spice vendors!! I shake my fists in rage at you!

New Mailing Address!!

We have a new mailing address in Nouadhibou!

Katie & Mike Yunghans
B.P. 1771
Nouadhibou, Mauritania
West Africa
Par Avion

Note: In Mauritania, the numbers one and seven, when handwritten, are often confused with each other. To avoid this problem, draw a dash through the vertical line of the seven (see the picture for an example).

Don't worry if you've sent anything to the old address recently though. We should still be able to get mail from the old box while we're transitioning over to our new one. By now we know the guys who work in the post office really well and they just call us anytime we have a package that needs to be picked up.

Also...we have noticed recently that many of the packages (and envelopes) we've received have already been opened upon arrival (or partially opened). We think it's probably happening more now because of the holidays and the expectation by some that there could be money or valuable electronics inside. To our knowledge, nothing has been missing from any of the packages. However, I would encourage liberal use of packaging tape on all boxes (all seams, corners, etc) and that you reinforce envelope sealing glue with scotch tape.

We also no longer recommend that you draw religious symbols on the outside of care packages or envelopes. Given the current situation in the Middle East, we believe the use of these symbols may draw unnecessary attention to the packages.

For more tips on sending mail or care packages you can go to our Wishlist page. We regularly update the list by adding and removing items as we receive new packages in the mail. Thanks for everything! We love and miss you all!