Only 7 Months Left Until...

Tislime and I on a lazy day. I only have seven months left in Mauritania and I am quickly realizing that my relationships here of 2 years will slowly disintegrate as I readjust back in the States. That makes me really sad, but I am still grateful that I've had this experience and I've been able to share it with so many people, within and outside my Peace Corps network. I hope that these next seven months will help me to reflect and soak up every moment I have left! It's time to really live it up...

Donkeys, Rivers, and Writings

Donkeys in Wonderland! This is the frontier in my village. I'm facing West in this picture and if you look across the river, that's Mali and upstream a little ways is Senegal. I took this picture hanging out in my favorite tree on the bank until the donkeys ran me out...it's mating season.

Sticks and Paddles

In a row boat that I mentioned (see post below). The rowers use no paddles rather sticks from trees to steer. The river is not shallow so I don't understand how sticks provide leverage to navigate. But it works, and I'm with it. This kid was especially good at rowing. We were traveling in swift water across a broad river and he got us there safely without much freaking out (on my part).

Don't Rock My Boat, 'Cause I don't need my boat to be rocked

My road during the rainy season. Water washes out bridges regularly during the "saison des pluies". The trucks in which I usually ride become boats to cross the washed out roads. It's always fun and exciting until you get into a boat made from a trunk of a tree and it starts to wobble from the myriad of people inside. Once, I inquired about the safety of the pirogues to my dad and he said, quite reasonably, that, "Girl, they've been doing that since the dawn of man. Of course it's safe." I couldn't agree more. But every time I do it, I'm scared as hell.

Becoming a Writer

Black Arabia

Here I am hanging out with my friends in my regional capital. Ethnically, they are black Moors whose culture closely identifies with Arab culture. Most black Moors do not identify themselves as black, which directly juxtaposes their social position in Mauritania. In 1989, there was a brutal war here between blacks and Moors. To relate the fear and bloodshed of the time, imagine a routine market run and being killed on the road because of one's skin color. Incredulously committed to Arab culture, black Moors still refuse to identify with black Africans albeit similar, oppressive treatment from the government. The unifying facet of cooperation is their religion. Everyone, black, black Moor or Moor, is Muslim.

Black Tongue

Here is just an example of odd sicknesses that I've had here. It started with strep throat. I had it for about 4 days, then one morning I wake up to a black tongue and a mountain range of bumps on the back of my throat. This picture was taken after 3 days of having a black tongue. Before, my entire tongue was covered with warts and lesions. DISGUSTING! I'm still alive, though, so I can't complain.
The doctors never figured out what caused it. I didn't expect them to.