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.

Freedom Town

Trekking along in Nouahdibou in the North of Mauritania. This city serves as a transit point for Europeans who travel over land to West Africa, as well as, illegal immigrants trying to go to Europe. Although Mauritania is an Islamic Republic, Nouahdibou has regular bars, and an abundance of prostitutes. The climate is ideal for "audacious" tourists (meaning those who think going to Africa is daring and bold) and the beach is close. Many volunteers placed there find it luxurious because of all the amenities (electricity, alcohol, sinks, toilets, cold sodas). I must admit in the beginning I was envious, but in my village I have learned how to do and deal when one doesn't have. Besides, what's the use of living in an under-developed country with all the amenities of the States? THe Nouahdibou volunteers have different experiences. I find they are not as integrated into the community and barely speak a local or national language. Contrarily, village volunteers are much more integrated and can speak either one or both of the national/local languages. For me, I rather learn and work through the sometimes unbearable frustrations of living in a village than have the easy, complaisant and unchallenged city living in Mauritania. I must say, when I do get have access to the cold beers and air conditioned rooms, I appreciate them much more. I assume it depends on perspective.

Wrapped Tight

Me wrapped in my typical Mauritanian travel gear. As I say below (view sandstorm post), sand gets into and onto everything. When traveling in the back of a pickup, the wind in combination with dust creates a serious problem for la rhume (allergies). I have bad allergies so I have to wrap up tight in order to ensure when I arrive at my destination, I'll be well. I traveled without a wrap only one time and when I got to my regional capital, I was a shade lighter from all the dust that had accumulated. I had sand in my ear for weeks. Needless to say, I won't make that mistake again.

Sand Blasted

A wall of Sand. Usually these occur before a big storm during the rainy season. If you get caught outdoors in this, most likely you'll find sand in crevaces of your body that you didn't know you had. It's pretty tight.
Picture compliments of Ben Bergen, a Peace Corps volunteer.

On the Road again...

Here I am on Taxi brousse. Pick up trucks are the principal mode of transportation in Mauritania. The cab seats 4 people and the back seats up to 25 people. Usually there are goods (sacks of potatoes, onions, gasoline, etc...) that serve as one's cushion. It's pretty uncomfortable though not unbearable. I've found ways to deal with the mayhem of taxibrousse travel...zoning out into space. Then you're there (wherever you're going) before you know it. Recently, I was riding taxibrousse to Kaedi, which is about 150 km from my regional capital. It was midnight and we still hadn't made it to Kaedi although we left at 4 in the afternoon. On the road, something went wrong with the rim of our front right tire and the rim fell off taking the tire with it. The chaffeur lost control of the car and sparks started to fly creating a small fire on my side of the car. Because the doors don't usually open from the inside (broken door handles), I had to jump from the car via window. It was the scariest most exhilirating experience I've ever had in Mauritanian. Afterwards, some locals found my panic hilarious. I still don't understand why.

Fight the Power!

A rally in Kaedi. I am unsure what these people
were protesting specifically but I can safely assume that it was a
political rally (it took place right before provincial elections).
Sometimes political rallies can turn violent as they did last year. In
November of 2006, a friend and the nephew of my village mayor, was
stabbed to death during a political dispute. InKaedi , a man was shot
and killed. Relative to American crime, this does not seem like a big
deal. But in Mauritania, violent crimes are always a shock and a
tragedy, especially in a village as small as mine.

Temple of My Familiar

The oldest mosque in Kaedi, a regional capital in southern Mauritania. Mosques are a focal point of Mauritnanian culture and livelihood. Five times a day an Iman,
a Muslim holy man, leads the community in prayer call which summons
worshippers by loud speaker. In my village, my host father is an Iman and every morning I awake to the first prayer call of the day at 5:30 in the morning. Often times the Iman will disclose local happenings which serves as some villagers' only source of news within and outside their communities. After all, Mauritanian is an Islamic Republic. No separation between church and state. Everybody born here must be Muslim. It's the law.