Raas-ik digdag

I forget things. I tried to explain myself on arrival to my Mauritanian colleagues and American site mates. I did not mince words: If I schedule ten meetings with you, I will forget three and arrive late to at least four more. Those are the odds, and I'm sorry in advance. "Don't be silly," they all laughed. "You are a super volunteer, together, responsible, dependable." I simply shook my head and braced for the inevitable.

Yesterday, I was in the Ecole 3 director's office, chatting, wrapping up a meeting. Because my hours are not fixed, I usually let him know when I'll stop in next. Sometimes next week, sometimes tomorrow, occasionally later the same day. As I left his office, I called out "à dimanche" meaning I'd be back on Sunday. Abdellahi nodded in recognition, stopped short and barked "non, non, non, demain, tu reviens demain pour chercher le clé."

Of course I am coming back tomorrow for the key. How else can I run English classes and ecoclub this weekend if I can't open the school gate? How many times have I forgotten the key Friday, only to frantically send a child Sunday to fetch it? Abdellahi smiled at me, fully, paternally, and produced the key from his boubou pocket. Sheepishly, I took the key, reasoning that I would have remembered, I had put it in my calendar. "Shuuv," look at the entry, I said. He laughed gently, called me raasik digdag, and waved me out of the office. I grinned, accepting my nickname which means broken head.

Later that afternoon, surprise surprise, I was running late. For the nth time to a volunteer meeting. Of course, I had a valid excuse: the labyrinth of narrow streets that wind aimlessly through old town had trounced my sense of direction. In short, I was lost. Standard tardy Ellen procedure dictated I send a text, something along the lines of, "ah ha ha, im lost in old town." My site mate K appropriately and cheerfully responded, "of course you are. hope you find your way out before we end our meeting." My broken head heaved a sigh. No sarcasm, no kidding, it made me happy to be so understood.