First Impressions of a New Land

First Impressions of a New Land
In my initial moments, what struck me was the dirt and urban decay. Trash filled the streets and people walked about aimlessly. But I thought, I can handle this. The temperature was bearable, and at least a breeze was in the air. The cityscape was bigger than Iexpected, and most people spoke decent (but not great) English. But then I realized that I was in Philadelphia for "staging" and not Nouakchott. I was getting ahead of myself.

Over three days of Peace Corps "Staging" or "stage" (pronounced in the French fashion) in Philly -- a crash course introduction to PC policies as well as the challenges and rewards of a cross-cultural experience -- I took in a lot. New people -- 44 of them -- new ideas, and even a few innoculations. The most fun has been the people, my "stage-mates" and hopefully future Peace Corps Volunteers. Most of us are young and all share the same sense of excitement, fear, and anticipation of what we will face inMauritania. We have one marrried couple (Todd & Saman), someone from a town of 1200 in North Dakota, a half Chilean, half-Scottish volunteer born in Los Angeles, a young man who studied abroad in Niger during college (I had never heard of the place at that point in my life), a former corporate software support specialist, and more than a few Michael Moore fans. Several groups made their way to see Farenheit9/11 -- I was, somewhat happily (Bush conspiracy theorists cover your eyes), unable to get a ticket. I'll catch it on video in a couple of years, or maybe Netflix Mauritania!

=== Roommate Problems ===
Stage was hosted by the slightly discombobulated staff of the Holiday Inn in Philly's historic district. My room was ready for early check-in at 11:30, while some trainees couldn't get a room until the evening. Upon entering my room, I noticed a hat on the dresser, and then looking further, several skirts and female tanktops hanging in the closet. I called the front desk, and had an interesting conversation with the attendent.
Me: Hi, I just checked in and there are female clothes in my closet. What might that mean?
Clerk: That means your roommate is already checked in.
Me: A minute ago you told me my roommate was John. Now, I don't know John, but I am going to guess that he doesn't wear jean skirts and orange tank tops.
Clerk: Sir, could you bring your bags downstairs and we'll get you another room?
Me; Well, is this my room? I'd prefer not to move my 900 pounds of luggage again if this is my room. Maybe this person checked out and left some clothing behind?
Clerk: [Unintelligable answer using three different tenses, points of view, and lines of reasoning]
Me: I'm just going to sit here and watch TV till you get this sorted out.

Well, it turned out that yes it was my room, yes a woman left some clothing behind, and yes John did finally arrive. But unfortunately, due to medical issues, he decided to withdraw from the Mauritania PC program. I hope that John can resolve the issuesoon and enter another program soon -- he seemed like a great guy with a lot to offer any country. Despite the reason, however, it was still the first ET (Early Termination) in the group. One down, 43 trainees left. One all too real reality TV show that will never see the light of day.

=== Nous sommes arrives!!! ===
With much anticipation and more than a little persperation, I lugged my guitar case and ever expanding carry on down the stairs of the Airbus A330 and onto the tarmac of the Nouakchott airport. As I stepped out of the plane, my hat was immediately blown off my head and sand filled my mouth and eyes like a fine powder. Chaos at baggage claim -- surely we were in Mauriania at last. Without any major hiccups we all made it to the Peace Corps Bureau in onepiece. The drive to the office was short but in five minutes of city driving we saw a smattering of Mauritanians going about their day along with a healthy dose of camels, donkeys, lots of garbage,and wrecked and decaying car hulls.

After a crash course on safety, security, eating, greeting and pooping in a foriegn land (the most I will explain is that for wiping you're given a "free flow" and "puddle and wash" method, useyour imagination), we were rewarded with delicious pizzas. A current volunteer asked me what I wanted. I jokingly responded "Hawaian" knowing it contains pork, a no-no for Muslims. Before I could say "kidding" she was back with my favorite - a full-fledged pineapple and ham pizza.

=== NKT to Kaedi ===
Wedensday we went in a 5 Toyota Land Cruiser convoy from Nouakchott to the training center in Kaedi, 420 km southeast of Nouakchott. We started out by traversing the city center and heading out oftown, settling on a smooth paved shot that goes practically straight to Kaedi. Outside of NKT it turns to desert quickly, and I mean rolling sand dunes and not an once of chlorophyll in any direction. As we inched closer to the equator the density of treesbegan to increase, small scrubby bushes and medium sized trees our driver Mohamed called Acacia.

The drive, normally about six hours, took almost two hours longer than usual for one reason: new PCTs can't hold their bladder very well. I drank about two liters on the trip and enjoyed several pit stops in the desert on the side of the road. This is an interesting process. Basically everyone who needs to go gets out of the car and walks off the road until they find a bush big enough to hide behind. The first time, one of the female PCTs didn't go very far and several cameras were popping off shots as she wentabout her business. It's safe to say that Peace Corps volunteers in Mauritania are not shy about their potty business and don't (or shouldn't!) expect a lot of privacy either. The training center in Kaedi, a secondary school on loan to Peace Corps for the summer, is a well organized and expertly staffed location. After arrival, we grabbed our bags and went down a handshaking assembly line, greeting approximately 25 staff members with Bonjour, ca va, and asalam aleykum. Greetings in Mauritania are a very big deal, and knowing the way to properly greet someone in Hassanyia (an Arabic dialect) or Pulaar is essential for success in Peace Corps. I've got a long way to go!

The temperature in Kaedi our first day was a hundred and something, suffice to say that I was wiped out from the trip. At night most of us have been sleeping outside in our mosquito net tents. The air is warm, but the breeze is fantastic. At 6-ish in the morningsleeping becomes difficult -- roosters, goats, donkeys and birds all give a shout, not to mention the call to prayer and my stage-mates who think that going RUNNING is a good idea!=== First Mauritanian Meal ===During our first evening in Kaedi we ate twice -- goat and rice the first time and lamb and cous cous the second time -- the idea being to look at what the Mauritanians do and try not to be offensive. It starts out with washing your hands in a basin (someone helps you with water while you soap and rinse and then you grab the kettle to help the next person) and then taking a seat at one of the mats without using your right hand for anything to make it dirty. The food is served, and with your left hand kept in the background (did I mention I'm a diehard lefty?), you grab a bit of the starch, squish it in your upper palm, and lick it off. Then you can go forthe meat (in the middle of the round plate) and mix it with the rice and continue with the balling up and eating off your hand method. There's not much drinking while you eat (that would fillyou up prematurely!) and no cleaing of your hands or face. Once you've had enough, you lick your fingers and lips and go back to the basin to clean up. BURRRRRRP!

=== TORNADO!!! ===
Sleeping outside under the stars and a full moon inside a free-standing mosquito net tent is a wonderful thing. Until you're woken up to a staff member walking around yelling TORNADO! What hereally meant was sand storm, and it ended quickly (and even turned into rain), but it felt a bit like a chemical weapons drill (gas gas gas!!!). We took down our tents, scrambled inside the dormitory, and closed all the windows as much as possible (they'remore like shutters, no actual glass here). The dust started filling the room and we wrapped wet t-shirts, bandanas, or sheets over our faces and tried our best to sleep in the stifling heat. "And to think," we all probably said to ourselves, "you signed up for this!"

=== Half the Pillow It Once Was ===
Last Friday was pack-up-and-clean-up day in DC, the culmination of several weeks of a Veblen-esque orgy of conspicuous consumption. All of my clothes, books and gizmos cowered in the corner of my tornado-stricken bedroom, wondering how I would ever fit them intoa large duffel bag, medium backpack and messenger bag. My secret weapon -- Space Saver vacuum pack bags. These things (thanks to Hava for telling me about them!) are simply large plastic bags withone sealable end and a nozzle on the top. After filling two with about 10 pounds of clothing each, the power of suction reduced them to shrivelled little beef-jerky-esque remains of their former selves. Rarely is it possible to wound someone with a pillow, but shrink it down to an almost white dwarf-like density and watch out!

===The Penultimate Supper===
My weeks leading up to Peace Corps have basically entailed eating,sleeping, working (if you can call 5 hours 4 times a week working),studying French and of course hanging out with Beth and others. But almost everything revolved around eating. The horror storiesof Mauritanian food -- you'll eat millet for 6 months straight, an alien will come out of your chest, etc -- convinced me to live large during my last days in the U.S. I expect to lose a few lbs in Mauritania, unless of course you all send me enough tuna packets and Balance Bars to gain weight, in which case I'll surely be fired by the Peace Corps for overtaxing their mail system.

My last big meal in D.C. brought me to my favorite restaurant in town -- Lalibela on 14th and P Street Northwest. It's the cheapest and most delicious Ethiopian food in town and is very authentic, towhich the many tables of taxi drivers can attest. Friends packed the outside patio table and kept the food coming -- lamb, kitfo (spicy ground beef), vegetarian dishes, tuna salad, and of coursethe "Sponge Bob Bread." Trivia time -- Ethiopian bread (injera) is made from the grain tef, which is so draught resistant that all polinated flowers will produce grain even if no rain falls from thetime of polination to the harvest.

So yes, I'm a little attached to Ethiopian food but I'll be working hard to make the transition once I'm in country. It'll be tough to shake the bias, though. The other day my cab driver and I werechatting about Lalibela and Ethiopian food and I told him I was going to West Africa. He shot me a look of absolute disgust and said, "Oh, they don't have real food in West Africa!" Sorry, millet and goat, when I eat you I'll be thinking of injera and lambtibs.

Thanks for reading to the bottom of this monster first-in-country issue. I hope all of you are well and happy and are not too HOT and sweaty!!!

--Luke