Peace Corps Mauritania Evacuated

It’s true. Even though there were many signs that this wasn’t completely out of the cards for us, finding out on Monday August 10, 2009, that it had become official the previous day, was overwhelmingly shocking.

My experience to the end of my Peace Corps service was also quite different from the majority as I was finishing up my month long vaca in the states, and had to deal with all the implications away from anyone who really understood what I was going through. I am so thankful that one of my closest volunteer friends was also at home and therefore we were able to share some of the pain together through frequent phonecalls.

I can’t really stress what it felt like to know I would not be going back to Mauritania, to say a final real goodbye to the people who had made this past year one of the most interesting and exciting years of my life. To leave without real closure is one of the harshest things one could face, and to leave behind people, best friends, who I had told, I will see you in a month.

Aside from the whole never coming back aspect, the high hopes I had for next year that had made me value my trip home, but also make me yearn to get back to RIM, were completely dashed. One year in a completely foreign place may seem like a long time, but it was just enough time for me to come back and make me feel more expert in what I was doing there. I could now fairly proficiently speak the language. I had established good repore with the people. I had made many mistakes the first time around, and was now going to correct them this second time, and make my projects even better.

There’s nothing really positive for me that comes from leaving my service early. I’m currently hanging in limbo as to what is next. I’m struggling to complete an overwhelming amount of paperwork sent from Washington, and am trying to figure out if I should re-up for another go.

I will keep everyone posted to my final decision, but I thought it was time for an official blog post on the current situation. Hopefully in writing this post, I will also find some inner closure to all that was Peace Corps Mauritania.

I want to give so so so many thanks to all those who read this, who sent me short comments that kept me going despite many struggles I came across. Thank you to all my letter senders, and package senders. You all will never go unrecognized in my eyes, and I can’t quite put words to how appreciative I am.

Bowing out (for now)

-Amanda

Land of Plenty

I’m sitting in my old university’s library right now. I love libraries. A few thoughts I’ve had lately:

I’ve now been back in the US for one week and one day. How am I feeling? Well, one week is about what it takes to start to reacclamate, but at first I was head over heels overwhelmed. By what? By how much stuff exists in this country. Coming from the Sahara,–Aleg even, which is especially sparse on vegetation. California has, just in its state boundaries, rivers, lakes, deserts, mountains, beaches, islands, valleys, and that’s just commenting on the landscape. Aleg is also home to a group of people who were once Nomads. What does this mean? That in my room I had more things that I brought with me and had accumulated than the four members of my family had in their whole house. Now come back to America…and well I just couldn’t help feeling almost dizzy from all the different kinds of things people have invented reasons for needing here. I can’t fully criticize this though. When I said plenty, I meant it as both good and bad. I would call socal saturated. For example the variety of food that we can so easily access here is simply amazing. I’ve eaten 11 different kinds of fruit within the past 8 days. There are so many things to do here to. I’ve seen two concerts, been to a handful of restaurants, been to a fair, been to the beach, a lot, been to an art gallery, been to the gym, swam in my pool, and been to the movies. This might  not make sense to a lot of people, but while I love going to all these places and seeing different things, I feel like, at times constantly being distratcted inhibits people from just sitting down with other people and getting to know them. That’s all I’ve really done these past 14 months, so who knows maybe its just habit and that’s why I miss it. But like I said, having all these resources has its ups as well obviously. For example, the library I’m in has 12 books just on how to learn how to write arabic.

The same day I got back my cousin and mom arranged a welcome back party for me, so I want to say a big thanks to everyone who came to that and brought delicious things to eat and talked and caught up a little bit. It means more than you know to know I have that support.

All the volunteers in Mauritania will be in Senegal shortly if they aren’t already there for a practice evacuation. If everything goes smoothly, we will all go back and continue working. That’s what I’m hoping for. Teresa is back home right now as well and we keep telling each other that we are so mentally prepared to enjoy our time here, our break, but also to get it in our heads that we have another year ahead of us in Mauritania. I just really hope that next year gets realized.

Signing off

squeaky clean amanda

some alarming, but expected, news

So, i’m writing this entry after so much has gone down with Peace Corps in this country, so much. Reports of bad news have just been pouring in since at least a month ago, and this is all aside from the choas of elections, although it seems, that those elections may actually finally take place now after countless delays and setbacks.

First, I found out my grandmother passed away, so I rush flew to Peru to be with my family for the funeral, which actually turned out to be a pick me up trip, considering the circumstances; seeing family does wonders. While there, I found out the new class of trainees had been delayed to come to Mauritania because no Visas were being issued to Americans by the Mauritanian government. This news eventually worsened, and became, no new trainee class was slated to come in the foreseeable future. In the meantime, a Mali/Mauritania PCV soccer game was canceled, which I was especially bummed about, because I haven’t been able to play soccer since stage. Right before I went to Nouakchott for the Annual Girl’s Education Conference, an American was shot point blank there in the capital. Within the next days, while we were in Nouakchott for the conference, the US embassy advised all U.S. citizens to remain indoors after they had received an unconfirmed (but what they deemed credible) threat of a possible kidnapping attempt. Shortly after this, our country director sent out an email offering the possibility interrupted service to those volunteers who did not want to continue their service in Mauritania. That brings us to today. About half of my very good friends are taking that interrupted service, and will be leaving around the same time as all the second years who are Closing out the second year of service. What that means, is that approx half of my really good friends are leaving quite suddenly, in addition to no hope of new volunteers, soon, and also, a significantly reduced population of volunteers who will stay in country. Needless to say, most volunteers who are staying have our reasons, but, we are all significantly taking a huge hit on our spirits.

excited

today i left aleg for 3 weeks of upcoming travel.  tomorrow morning i’ll be celebrating my birthday in the lovely beach town of saint louis senegal, and from there, i’ll make a big pac man shaped circle. First up will be Selibaby, supposedly one of the most beautiful and green sites in Mauritania. From there, I’ll head down to Bamako, Mali to check the scene there and also to watch Mali and Ghana face off for a World Cup qualifying match. Next up is Noiro for the Olsen cup. That’ s where PCVs will play soccer against eachother. I cannot wait to play. From Noiro, I will re-enter Mauritania through Aioun, and then make my way down to Kiffa, for the first anual Kiffa wine fest. It’s going to be a lot of traveling and a lot fun. All the traveling will be done with other volunteers.

The GMC annee scolaire  finished off strong. We had a huge closing ceremony with lots of teachers and directors and even radio personel, but most of all we must have had close to 80 students come. We held it in the newly remodeled and opened Maison de Jeune. There were speeches, and skits, and certificate giving. I gave the introduction in French, and Zeinabou was pretty much the host. Overall, my girls worked very hard to put a lot of work into.

Other than that, Mauritania is in the midst of Elections right now, and right before I left Aleg, campaigning had kicked into high gear. There were huge full color photographic posters draped over the banks and motels, in the windows of peoples cars, etc. Last night there were even these lazer neon green lights pulsating through the sky. People have put up Khymas allover random places in Aleg. It’s pretty intense, and on the ride from Aleg to Nktt today, it seemed to be the trend in all the cities we passed. In Aleg, Azziz is the one being promoted, which is slightly ironic, since the president he overthrew, Sidi, is from just outside Aleg Proper (he’s still under house arrest there right now too).

محاضرة (Muhadar)

Two days ago, my counterpart’s sister held in my honor what is called a Muhadar, or at least an informal version of what Muslims attend when they have questions or want more information about Islam. The word I looked up that sounds like what I heard, actually translates to Lecture, if I sounded it out correctly, but I wouldn’t exactly characterize it as that.

Since I have been in this country, it has been more or less impossible not to face the religious aspect of daily life. There really isn’t anything of comparable nature in any other place I’ve traveled in my life thus far, except maybe perhaps the Vatican city, but even then, the tourists and steep admission prices take away just slightly. Plus Catholicism in Italy seems more part of their history than a daily faith people practice.

Anyway, from what Khadjetou (my counterpart’s sister) told me about what a traditional Muhadar is, I’d say religious lectures would be a semi-accurate translation. It makes sense too because Islam doesn’t have anything equivalent in its religion to a Christian church. Muslims have mosques but only men go there to pray, and there is no equivalent to a priest or minister who lectures from the Koran or gives other teachings or stories. Mosques have Imaams, who stand in front of all the men in a mosque and lead the prayer—(and by this I mean, the series of bows Muslims take in prayer). Therefore, Muhadar’s are events that are held for Muslims to come and listen about their religion’s teachings, and also as a forum for questions.

Zeinabou came to get me at 5:40 as the Muhadar was to start at 6pm. I went over to her house, talked with her family for a little bit, and then they took me into their second limbaar just on the otherside of their huge lot. Inside the limbaar which looks like a hanger for people instead of planes, they had hung mulaffas down the middle, dividing where I was to sit with her family from where the man who was to talk to me about Islam. I was caught off guard a little because this seemed a lot more formal than I had imagined. The voice on the other side spoke in Arabic for a while, and then he switched to English (I found out later, the man was an English teacher at the Lycee), which is how he was able to explain and answer my questions in very good English. Just then Ashley showed up to visit Zeinabou, and so she was also able to participate in what followed.

The man let me know that he had been informed by his Muslim sisters that I had been curious about the religion ( I have always asked many questions about Islam, since I’m living in its wake, and therefore, despite advice I’ve read in the RIM manual, conversed openly about religion on numerous occasions with my Mauritanian friends. I figure when and where else am I going to be able to learn from people who care about me, as much about the roots and its current practices and beliefs than now.) He said he was called here to answer any questions I had about the religion. And then I was put on the spot. I would have definitely come more prepared if I had known what I was really in store for.

The first question I asked was what role women played in Islam. Now let me say that during stage, Pablo had a book called No God But God, which of most I had read, and plus living here now for almost 11 months (insaneeee), I had some kind of idea, but I wanted to get the ball rolling. He told me that women are at the center of the home. It is there role and responsibility to insure that the home is a place for the family to be nutured and taken care of. I was glad Ashley was there, because she jumpstarted the conversation we then had about Prayer. I will break it down for all the readers who don’t know too much thus far. Muslims pray five times a day, or at least they are supposed to. Each prayer has a different meaning, and the number of bows they take is different each time. For the most part, the times for the prayers are: right when they wake up or anywhere from 4:30am-6:30am, noon, after or before lunch, sunset prayer, and then a night prayer.

He continued for thirty minutes to answer our questions, and then said that if we wanted another meeting with him, that could be arranged. It was really nice because there was never, during the whole time, any pressure of being converted. It was just a very open space to learn. I was thankful for this. Sometimes when life gets difficult here, it is really these small instances in which make me realize just how much compassion I find in some of the people here; and so I keep my head up, and try even harder at becoming fluent in a dialect that I’ll never speak again, and tell myself, yah, I guess I can wear a bed sheet for another year in 110 degree heat.

Another one bites the dust

Today was SOO windy. The sound actually woke me up in the middle of the night because I coulda sworn a tornado was coming. (I have never actually been in a tornado, so the way it sounded may or may not accurately resemble tornado noises). Regardless, as soon as I looked out my window, the fact that I could only see to the end of my front yard, because of all the dirt flying through the air should mean something. Literally within minutes of my window being open, there were at least a couple cm’s of dust on everything in my room. As I type this, my fingers are getting dirty from the leftover sand from today. As I walked into different shops, everything inside was tinged brown.

*     *     *     *     *

Yesterday, I spent my morning at the PC bureau, since Sunday mornings are my window of office hours. Right as I was getting ready to pick up and leave at about noon, a man walked in named Mustafa. He came and sat down, and asked if I knew whether one of the other volunteers from my region was around, and I said I hadn’t seen him. I thought he would have left at this point, but instead he took a seat and started talking to me.

I need to add in here, that as a rule of thumb, if a man in this country is being nice to you, 99% of the time, it’s because he wants to marry you. I am dead serious about this. I’d say half of the time, within the first 5 minutes, you have a proposal. I can even recall times when men have been driving by and then specifically pulled over to see whether I’d accept them as my husband. Being here for now more than eight months, I’ve learned to shrug this off . Sometimes even your Mauritanian girl friends will try to marry you off, or at least ask whether you will marry a Mauritanian. I always just tell them: Nduur laa rajel zany we maloom, maakadili ilayn huwe bilani wella amerikiye, laay mitkhayme ma-huwe, yeghrayr, aana maa gat arayt rajel kiiv dhaak. All I’m looking for is good and generous man, it doesn’t matter if he’s Mauritanian or American, I will marry him, but I haven’t yet found a man like that. They love this answer and usually crack up and do the typical clap/grab your hand as you laugh together. Other times, another tactic I use is to tell the person I already have four husbands. This is the max you are allowed to have, and so that they are too late because my quota has already been reached.

Anyway, back to Mustafa. He told me, he wanted to help PC in Aleg, he wanted to volunteer and do sensibilizations for us. I told him that I would write his name down, and let the other volunteers know about him as a resource. After this conversation, he stayed some more. He started telling me about his background; he’s originally from Burkino Faso, he’s a civil engineer, and has the proper certificates to work in a Library. Finally, right before I was going to cut him off to tell him, I had to leave because I had a work meeting, he said, ok, one last question: How does a man, say from Africa, get an American woman to marry him? He asked me very nonchalantly, as if asking more for advice as opposed to, oh say, my own hand in marrige, but the whole time, it still came off very transparent to me. I simply told him, the same way you get any woman to marry you: get her to like you. With that, I told him, I had to lock up, and he thanked me for my advice, and I thanked him for his willingness to help us with work here.

The Heat is back on and Lexi.

I took a trip to my friend Becca’s site this past weekend. It’s a town in the South called Lexaba. It’s beautiful down there, with an abundance of trees and rivers and gardens, the people are more warm and liberal. When Tanya, Becca’s site mate came out to greet me in a tanktop and with her hair down, i secretly thought, until i told her, you suck, you lucky biatch, stupid north with it’s conservative mulaffa wearing people. (more on recent thoughts of this below).  While I was down there, got a tour of the town, the college (middle school), her family’s house with it’s three wives. I also taught an art lesson to her GMC. Her girls were great and all pretty respectful, aside from the huge inccident that happened just before I got there. Apparently, one of the GMC girls stole a cd from the center. Becca did not catch her in the act, but about 7 other girls saw her take it, and then later told Becca about it. When B confronted the girl, Haby, about it, H denied the charges, and presumably lied through her teeth. Becca is going to kick the girl out, once she comes forward and is going to close the center until the cd gets returned. The event might seem insignificant, but it has definitely rocked the town of 3000. Anyway, what I did take away from my trip, aside from having a lot of fun, chilling, and seeing new parts of Mauritania was that I need to adopt a stricter attitude in running the GMC. I will start up a new program once I get back from Dakar, and have shorter sessions, more frequently, but also not let girls get away with missing classes. The way Becca treated the GMC was as a priviledge, a center for outstanding girls, not an extra club on the side, which is what my center unless I change things will become.

Before I continue, I need to add a few words about Zeinabou. She as I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion is an incredible person, even more so because she’s a woman in Mauritania with her points of view, and also because she’s only 21. She runs the journal for the GMC. It’s a newspaper that comes out monthly that she is the editor of. In the journal are articles written by her about society, articles written by teachers or other respected members of the community, and articles written by the girls from the center. Recently, a boy from a newpaper club in Aleg said he wanted to write in our newspaper because it was better than the one from his club. She has also recently told me about a project she wants to go through with that would form a coed coalition between the groups because right now the clubs, there are 6 in Aleg, made up and run by all young people, are divided into male and female clubs. There is also another president of a club who wanted to do joint activities between all the clubs and even put on events for Aleg that would include coed sketches on current events and important issues. When she told me all these ideas I just got so excited for her. I am constnantly being blown away by her. It’s times like these that makeme wonder how I can help, when there are already all these Mauritanians willing to forge forward without any PC motivation. I remember always thinking before I came here that I would definitely learn more than I would teach to the people here, and I think this is exactly one of those moments, where I can be part of the process, but not the complete push behind it. There was another time when Z told me that for the journal she wanted to give the option of either paying 100UM for it, or contributing an idea instead of payment. I still think about this instant all the time, knowing that my mentor realizes that the exchange of ideas is more powerful and valuable than the buying or selling of a product. Anyway, I’ll be sure to keep this blog posted with updates of this new project.

On another perhaps more sour note, I was accused of being the equivalent of a whore yesterday by a man who visits my family sometimes. He didn’t say that exactly, but conveyed that message in so many words. Z would always half joke with me that if Iwalked around at night, or rather past when the sun when down, even if I was just walking home, people would frown down on that. I said, ok that’s fine, but I’m free to do what I want. I would rather be able to eat dinner with my friends, Mauritanian and American, than be concerned with some people’s stupid opinions. But yesterday, when this man said, I didn’t go to Lexaba, that I went to go stay with a man, I just lost it and got so pissed. At first I was thinking, well I do have a center for girls, I do need to be concerned with my rep up to a certain point, so I’ll stop going for example to Z’s for dinner and Hassaniya lessons, but after having a chat with Ash about it during our run this morning, she made me realize, fuck it. People are always going to have an opinion, and the people who know me will know better than to think this of me. I knew this, but it is still so easy to get lost in remembering who you are here because there is just so much overwhelming pressure to assimilate, and often times, right away, that is easier because people will like you just off the bat, but i don’t think that’s worth it. I mean, I guess in the states, some sense of that same pressure exists, but it’s not so blatantly obvious like it is here. Anyway, I delved kinda deep in this entry, but that’s been my life as of late.

I’m going to bring it back up a notch and say thanks to Potzi, Desiree, Elana, Cheryl and my Aunt Mary for my recent packages and letters. Life is so much sweeter because of all of you, who read and comment and show the love.

Adios

xo amanda

Obamaramaframa in africarafrica

How did I celebrate the 2009 inaguration of our first half black president? With his 6 foot face projected on the wall. After watching Obama swear in live at my neighbor’s house since my family didn’t have a TV. Teresa came up from Boghe since she had a small break from work, and I was finally able to give her the grand tour of Aleg. It consisted of my room, my GMC, and the regional house. I think we may have stopped at lily’s house in between. Oh yah, and she also met my mentor Zeinabou. I think she deserves her own separate mentioning as both a person and a tourist attraction.

I’m glad she was as into the inauguration as she was, because, although I was following it, I probably would have only caught snippets of it and then watched his inauguration speech on my own, on my laptop. However, the day after our little regional inauguration celebrations, we spent maybe four hours online looking at all the media coverage and being complete dorks on Wikipedia.

As for Mauritanian reactions, most people saw parts of his speech, as Al Jazeera was covering it non-stop just like they did our elections. I had a few of my Mauritanian friends who knew how, send me congratulatory texts and a couple others say something about it in person.

What I feel over anything of hope or happiness for our new president Obama is also mainly relief. Relief that Bush is gone and done with. When I was watching the live coverage with 4 other Mauritanians in the room, everyone cheered as Bush’s helicopter took him off and away back to Texas, as I’m sure probably also happened all around the world.

While she was here, I also took a break of eating Mauritanian food with my family since she’s vegetarian and made two days of AMAZINGG American food. First day it was Breakfast for Lunch which included real blueberry pancakes with maple syrup. Second day both our mouths were on fire for a good portion of the day from out spicy lentil burgers and Pico de Gallo, with hands down the best tortillas I’ve had in country, made by Teresa herself.

I recently did a power point presentation (thanks to the GAD projector from NKTT I’m borrowing) at my GMC on girls in Afghanistan who despite being scarred and maimed from acid thrown at them on there way to school, have returned and are pursuing their education despite these gender based attacks. The girls responded to the lesson well and overall I felt like it was definitely one of my strongest.

So here’s a little story of what saving money means to Mauritanians. My host dad just got back from a lot of traveling for work and with him came a new television and satellite dish. My family previously didn’t have a TV at all. Two days later, there was a car in the front yard as well. The day after that, my host mom was asking me to buy her credit for her phone since she didn’t have any money. Moral of this vignette: don’t buy credit for your host mom’s cell phone because she’s just going to call her friends and waste it all in the ten minutes that proceed you giving it to her.

And last but not least, on a gross note, I have, an armpit abscess. It’s gross and huge and pussy, and is one of the most painful skin maladies I have experienced. I’m supposed to nurse it with a warm compresses 3-4 times a day, which will either lead it to come to the surface, open up, puss out some more, and then eventually go down, or just stay under the skin, and slowly become less red, swollen and severe in its pain. I didn’t mean to be so graphic, but here, sad to say, this is all just a little common with peace corps volunteer life.

I’m Baaaaack!

I have indeed neglected this a bit, but just take it as no news is good news. Seriously have been downright busy this past month. December just about flew by as I moved in with my new host family. Took my first real trip to Senegal to celebrate New Year’s Eve in the absolutely aaaaamazing fishing town of San Luis. Swam to my hearts content. Then I was back in Nouakchott for ETR/IST where I was able to eat to my hearts content. I think I had at least one type of ice cream everyday. Mmmmm.

I’m actually really glad to be back in Aleg. It’s fun to be away, but I’m finding out, I like spending time with my Mauritanian friends just as much as the other volunteers if not more sometimes.

Today I definitely got back into the groove of things. I met with the director of the Condition Feminine of Aleg to discuss the updates of a project that I will submit for funding this week. It’s to establish a coiffure salon/school for the Women of Aleg who have no job and are not pursuing further education. I’d guesstimate that to be easily 3/4ths of the population. The project falls under the AGR act, put forth by the Mauritanian Promotion Feminine. AGR breaks down to: activities generating revenue for women in Mauritania. I have a good feeling about it, because a couture project put forth by a volunteer back in 2005 is still thriving. It’s also a pilot program for Peace Corps–aka no other project like it has been attempted yet in Mauritania–that’s been recorded at least. Anyway, I’ll definitely post updates, but after meeting different Mauritanian women about it, I’m pretty stoked. Plus–maybe I’ll be able to get my hair done for free for the rest of my service. ;-P

I came back home for lunch, and lucked out with Rice and Fish, which is quickly growing to be one of my favorite meals here. Tomorrow I’m going to my neighbor Mbourel’s house to eat it with her, as she says, unless I’ve tried it Senegalese style, I haven’t tried Rice with Fish.

After lunch and tea I mosied over to Zeinabou’s copy shop and chilled and taught her how to inventory items using Excel. I just inventorized everything in the GMC, including all the books. It’s so damn neat and organized now. =D I also made books of lessons in French and Arabic for computer classes I’ll be teaching at least three times a week to some of the older women in Aleg.

Once Zeinabou got off at 6pm, she told me a freind of hers wanted to meet me again. (I supposedly had met her breifly in passing before and she was intrigued by the nasara).  So we went to her house, she’s probably 16 at the oldest and has a newborn baby. I just pretty much sat with them for maybe 5 minutes before we left. In that time though, she decided she liked me and wanted me back next weekend for dinner and hanging out. Mauritanians…

I stopped by the Regional House on my way home because I saw Dave in the streets (he just got back from a vacation home) and rumor was he brought mountains of cheese back and brown sugar for me. He said that the Pulaar Family, Kelly Belly’s family, was having an invitation tonight.

We went, and it was awesome. Pulaar celebrations, and customs, and culture, are soooooo sweet.  Before eating, the women turned over the tin bowls and started pounding away at a beat that when danced to, created such a colorful rhythmic explosion under an almost full moon. I even got up and danced to the drumming, who’s beat I’m too musically challenged to figure out. I’ve kind of given up all inhibitions when it comes to making a fool out of myself, cause I didn’t come all the way to Africa not to be totally out of my skin, sort to say.

What else can I update on. I feel a difference in my language ability. I understand at least some of every conversation I happen upon, and sometimes every single word and part of speech of some.

I now have internet at the GMC. YESSSSSSSSSSSS. This definitely means more consistent posting. (Inshallah)

And lastly, but probably most importantly, thank you soooooo sooooo sooooo much for everything that has been sent my way, be it packages, or letters, or emails, or even quick posts on my wall or comments. The love and support never gets old and is constantly an extra boost.

Peace Out.

xo amandita

bon fete, iid sayiid

Yesterday I was entirely too full of meat, so sick to my stomach that even the smell made me afraid. Today I have recovered. Two days ago I ate at least, easily, two pounds of sheep. Tabaski. A fellow volunteer asked me yesterday if I remembered when Africa was hot. I do. And when in the sun for more than 20 minutes at a time, despite night’s chill, it’s still easy to. That’s not to say wearing a mulaffa lately has seemed more of a cloak than an oppressive bed sheet wrapped 2 and a half times around my whole body. My opinions on mulaffas are mixed. Pros: Good protection from the sun. Warm. Easy to throw on. You don’t have to worry about picking out a matching outfit. One size fits all (especially good for Mauritanian women). Good to fall asleep in, because of it’s sheetlike resemblence. Lily adds that you feel like you are in Star Wars when you walk around on the sand. I agree, that, or a cloaked badass at night. Cons: Can be annoying as hell to try to walk in. Shapeless. Warm. Feeling like you always have to be covered up. Gross in bathroom dragging situations. Like I said, I must have eaten Sheep with either potatoes, bread, couscous or rice at least 6 times the first day of Tabaski. For all those who don’t know the holiday that well(that was me about a week ago), it’s when God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, and he agreed and then right before the slaughter, God replaced it with a sheep, since he was only testing Abraham’s loyalty. Abraham passed. I bought a mulaffa that was about a tenth of my monthly salary. It’s dark and deep and blue. Christmas seems far off in a different land, but somehow, Tabaski carried the same air of merriment. There was shopping, and new clothes, and lots of visiting with family and frieds, and coldness in the air. Anyway, I miss America, and mainly the people there, but work is progressing with projects abound, and language is still coming… …. … slowly. I’ll post pictures soon. A bientot. xo amanda