Proceed to Phase Two

Hello everyone,

It's the end of Phase 1, a big accomplishment by any account. We've
successfully survived 2 or so weeks with our host families, 6 hours a day of language class and an assortment of minor illnesses and maladies. I have a few items of amusement for you this time, hope you enjoy, and that you are all having a good summer.

=== Mauritanian Bocce Ball ===
The same time each evening, a group of men gather on a sandy side street near
the Kaedi airport for a game of Patang. Or Batang. Or Batanga. Whatever.
Anyhow, the game is a lot like Bocce Ball so far as I can tell, and yesterday I was
coached on the ins and outs by one very intense fellow. He was a slightly pot
bellied black moor, with sagging blue jeans, and an almost handlebar mustache.
We sat against a crumbling brick wall, and he leaned in close to give me a
whispered play-by-play. “See that guy in the white shirt –Army Captain, very big man in town. And him, blue shirt, good player, a champion. Oh look, a good throw, but not close enough!”

Basically, three teams of three start off by throwing one small rock, that’s
the target. Then everyone gets three throws, and you try to get as close to the
little rock as possible and knock everyone else’s ball away in the meantime.
And no, my friend assured me, they don’t play for money. “It’s for the sport,
the competition, the fun of it,” he said. We’ll see what happens when I throw
1000 ougiyas onto the court and tell them it’s time to show them how the Toubabs play P/Batang(a)!

=== Bad Jokes Make the Medicine Go Down ===
I spent 24 hours in the infirmary this week, getting over my first Mauritanian
bug. Not a big deal. It was nice to have the company of PCT Dara, who might
not have enjoyed it as much as me. For example:
Dara: I wonder how the village people are doing?
Luke: You mean those really gay guys who dressed up and sang YMCA?
Dara: I have to go throw up now.

=== Host Dad Journal Entry #1 ===
Somehow I was able to get my hands on a journal written by one of the host
parents of a former Peace Corps trainee in Mauritania. You won’t find this anywhere else, so enjoy!

9 July – I got a new toubab today. His name is Phil, and I can already tell
he’s a real piece of work. First of all, he’s got 12 pieces of luggage, each
weighing about 100 pounds. The guy needs a whole crew of people to carry his
stuff, like he’s Livingston discovering the source of the Nile or something. But
actually it was cool because we got most of his bags yesterday and got to look
through them. I wonder if Americans always travel with that much hot sauce?

Let me count the stupid things he did in the first 20 minutes at my home.
First of all, he categorically cannot speak any useful languages, so he just smiled
and nodded as I introduced my wife, my kids, my neighbors. Within five minutes he used the word for animal dung when he meant to say “sea” or “river” or whatever he was going on about. And after he put his stuff in his room (which he’s sure to destroy with that little bottle of bleach!) he came out and sat on our new mat with his dirt encrusted sandals. Good one, Phil.

12 July – Phil brought out a photo album and showed us his ostentatious family and friends with all their jewels and wacky get ups. Everyone’s anorexic and acting overly happy in the photos. Ah, who is that you’re so tactfully pointing
at with your filthy left hand? Ah, your girlfriend, I see. Boy did she get lucky with this Peace Corps thing… man I crack myself up…

15 July – Brett has been here almost a week, and today he finally broke down
and washed some clothes; I think he figured that eventually one of my womenfolk would crawl over to his room and offer to do it for him. Sure… what do we care, he won’t smell any worse than that half brown half white goat with the broken leg who sleeps in his own droppings. So anyhow, he takes one bucket, fills it with water, and then puts like 15 articles of clothes in there. Total novice move. Then after a timid effort to actually clean the clothing a bit he has to take a break. He takes out one of his nine colored plastic water bottles and
rests under a tree awhile, swatting flies away, practically looking up into the
sky and mouthing the Toubab word for “mommy.” Finally, about two hours later he hung the clothes up on the line and they all blew off and got muddy. The clothespins are over there in the jar for next time, buddy!

17 July – Took Phil to my newphew wedding yesterday. Why do we even bother? I know we signed up for this and I do respect the mission of Peace Corps, you
know, to help American kids grow up and all that, but Phil, you have to get a
grip. First of all, he brings out his new “African clothes” which look ridiculous
on him and is asking everyone at the wedding all these ridiculous questions
like “how was your voyage” to someone you just met for the first time. Earth to
Phil, Uncle Moussa hasn’t traveled out of the neighborhood since ’81!