Luke Goes To Disneyland Africa

Greetings friends. It’s been a long time since I summoned up a newsletter, but I’ve been very busy. At least, busy for a Peace Corps volunteer. I find that my two hour mid-day nap is simply another appointment, not to be missed for any reason, so as you can imagine the day can go pretty quickly. I’m in Kiffa and just signed a lease on an AWESOME house. It’s enormous, near the market, has a great rooftop with a view of the city, and a huge yard with a giant stone wall around it (my late Uncle Michael, a master builder of 18th century stone walls in New England would probably not have been impressed, but it’s cool nonetheless!). There’s electricity, but no running water, and we already have plans to chip in and make it the regional house. That means painting, cleaning, gardening, and filling it with as many luxuries as we can afford. So get your shots and come visit me in a few months! Round trip flights (Nouakchott-Kiffa) are running 60 bucks and the plane leaves on Wednesdays. My apologies for the inconsistent temporal nature of the content below… Take care all – Luke

=== PHOTOS, sort of ===
http://ksuzannec.smugmug.com
Thanks to Suzanne, who wisely mailed some film home and had the photos posted online, you can see some pictures of our group at the web link above. I haven’t seen them yet, but Suzanne insists that they are good, and that there’s at LEAST one with me up there. Aren’t we the most attractive group of young Americans denied real food and showers for weeks on end?

=== Ready For Affectation ===
In just a matter of hours, I will be affectated. Don’t cry, have no fear, that just means in bureaucratic speak that I’m now a PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEER! So you can write PCV instead of PCT on your letters (I’ll send you a Kiffa address soon but for now B.P. 222 in Nouakchott is fine) and be proud that I fulfilled the obligations of training. I was even rated “intermediate high” in Hassaniya, perhaps one of the most charitable acts in history. During my language test, the examiner asked me to tell him a story. I said “One night, a hedgehog went into my room, and I was very afraid because I thought he wanted to eat me!” That was my ENTIRE story.

The swearing in ceremony was a nice affair, with a colorful tent set up at the Kaedi lycee and plenty of breeze to keep us cool and armed guards to keep us safe. Speakers included the Deputy Mayor of Kaedi (a black African woman!), the director of one of the government ministries, Peace Corps RIM Director Obie Shaw, U.S. Ambassador to Mauritania, Joseph LeBaron, and three members of our group. Julian gave brief remarks in French, Jordy in Hassaniya, and Tarn in Pulaar. I was especially proud of Jordy as she sat next to me in language class for the last three months. Tarn, too, won my respect as Pulaar seems like a very difficult language. But Julian was fluent in French when he got here, so all he had to do was go up, look pretty, and talk into a microphone! But I kid, he was awesome too.

The Ambassador spoke in Arabic, then French, then English. I understood almost none of the Arabic, about 85% of the French, and frankly the English was confusing too – we were supposed to “plumb” or “plum” something out of our Mauritania experience, and also he assured us that something will be or was “adumbrated,” either for us or by us or to us. Suffice to say he has a doctorate from Princeton and a correspondingly impressive vocabulary.

I finally had occasion to wear the Ugandan outfit (dark red patterned pants, shirt and hat with gold embroidery) that I purchased back in ’02. It was a hit – the hat definitely makes the outfit work, otherwise you look like you’re wearing pajamas. It has a pan-African look (to symbolize my “commitment to sustainable development across the continent” I’m sure) and most people asked if I had it made in Mauritania. I lent my new bou-bou and pantaloons (which have an approximately 150 inch waist that you have to cinch up with a 6 foot long belt for about 15 minutes prior to wearing) to Jared who looked mighty fine in the ensemble.

=== P.S., I’m Affectated! ===
Yesterday, our first day in Kiffa, we got to play “protocol.” It’s sort of like going to Disneyland Africa. Dozens of fabulous attractions!!! First, visit the Wali (governor of the Assaba), then the Hakim (head of Kiffa district), then the mayor of Kiffa, then the head of the Gendarmarie (like FBI or sheriff), then the Chief of Police, then the Ministries of Rural Development, Health, Education, etc… A lot of these rides (especially “Wali Mountain”) have a very long line, but guess what, Toubabs get to skip to the front every time!!! The officials were generally very gracious and happy to see us (“call me anytime, I sleep with my cell phone next to my ear” or “I have no personal life, if you have a problem call me day or night.”), but maybe it was because Adriana wasn’t wearing a veil. Ooh la la!!!

=== Happy Birthday Sister ! ===
Everyone join me in wishing sister Angela a very happy 29th birthday. Angela, I’ll send you something Kiffa-ish soon and when you come visit, I’ll buy you the steak and French fries dinner at the restaurant Toure Koumbo ($1.84), and maybe throw in a Fanta (37 cents). Because I’m a big spender like that.

=== Presenting to the Choir ===
For a final project in training, each business trainee had to give a presentation to a group of local business people. No big deal, right? How about in Hassaniya? Gulp! I picked a topic that I thought was sufficiently vague and easy to bring audience participation in to compensate for the lack of content: a framework for introducing new products and services (for convenience store owners). Here’s a little lesson: if your subject has the word “framework” in it it’s going to be difficult to discuss in Hassaniya – beginning, advanced, whatever. Hassaniya is a spoken language for everyday life, not for teaching abstract concepts.

Armed with five notecards covered front and back, I gave the topic my best shot and I think our audience of four epicerie managers enjoyed themselves. At least, they enjoyed watching me TRY to speak their language. Although one of them teased me afterwards – “Hasan, you weren’t speaking Hassaniya. That was Arabic!” My teacher had warned me that a lot of the vocabularly was actually Arabic for the reasons stated above, so I wasn’t surprised to hear that, and also wasn’t too upset to learn some Arabic vocabulary.

The content was somewhat mediocre, I think, to put it charitably. And one thing I learned – Mauritanians aren’t particularly enthusiastic about “brainstorming.” We’re used to that in The States – it’s ok to fire off a handful of ideas, most of which turn out to be bad – but here I think folks here are more protective of their ideas and the reaction others might have. But maybe that’s true worldwide – anyone attempting comedy writing or media relations (try pitching a sketch/joke to a cynical comic or a potential news story to a jaded journalist) has to put aside the fear that their idea will be chewed up and spit back out like a bad piece of goat shoulder meat.

=== Final Town Meeting Lineup ===
Our last town meeting (talent show) was AWESOME! I’ll try to recreate the “set list” as best I can.

Introductory remarks – Luke with “special guest” sidekick Trip McKoy, a middle aged rancher from Texas sent to Mauritania to work with animal husbandry (played by Mike). [Luke: How old are you, Trip? Mike: I dunno, 47? I drink a lot.]
Keith and Jen sing “Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard” (Luke on guitar)
PCV Katie sings a pretty song
Caleb present a hilarious poem backed by cutting edge ambient guitar work from Jared
PCVs Caroline and Dan tell a story
Tarn reads a poem in Pulaar (inspired by a period of solitary confinement in his house during a rainstorm)
Sarah sings “I Will Survive” – Luke on guitar (playing the Cake version, much to the confusion of the singer)
Stage 2004 Superlative Awards –Keith and his team of presenters (a la the Oscars) announced such awards as “Most Likely to Spend a Night in Mauritanian Jail,” “Most Likely to Marry a Mauritanian,” “Most Integrated,” and things like that. The prizes were somewhat fitted to the award. Our soon to be jailbird got a phone card, and our stagiare most likely to borrow your stuff got a really ugly shirt, with the justification that “no one will EVER want to borrow this!” It’s a red and blue short-sleeved collared shirt plastered with pictures of the American rapper “50 cent” and “Make Money or Die Tryin” in block letters.
Jared and Luke try to sing “Alive” by Pearl Jam (they can’t remember the lyrics and instead zoom ahead to the guitar solos which they hum in falsetto)
Keith and Luke bring down the house with “Livin’ On A Prayer” – the entire crowd sings along, especially on the chorus, driven by Keith’s aviator sunglasses and rock and roll instincts. Potentially the first ever public acoustic performance of this song.
Photo slideshow by Kyle that included some choice pictures of Luke – reading to children, playing Frisbee, sporting a Mohawk, kissing a severed goat head, etc, you know, typical Peace Corps stuff. I promise you will see pictures SOON!

=== Boring Geological Information About Kiffa ===
Longitude: -11.40 °
Latitude: 16.63 °
Elevation: 115 meters (on the Assaba Plateau)
Average Temperature: 17,000 degrees Celsius

=== Hassaniya Poetry, A Thing of Beauty ===
[Translated, probably badly]
The dung beetle has no politics
during the rainy season
He continues to roll the dung
but he doesn’t know who’s dung it is

The dung beetle is truly a magnificent site. I normally see one when I’m lying down outside in the evening, and I hear the sound of a mini-avalanche coming my way. From the shadows emerges an animal the size of maybe those erasers you put on top of a pencil, pushing a ball of dirt (with a special Cracker Jack surprise in the middle) the size of a GOLF BALL! And he’s going at a human’s walking pace, which appears very fast for a creature of its size, and with a cargo so hefty. I haven’t yet figured out where he’s taking his loot, but he flies all over the place, turning left, turning right, seemingly lost, but always in a hurry. Because of this bug, many Mauritanians, especially those who live “en brousse” or those who are especially poor, don’t have latrines or perhaps even feel the need for them. They walk a ways away from the house, do their business, and a few hours later the magnificent dung beetle has cleaned up for you.