Singing songs about the southland

Yesterday, I visited Sabualla, my training village. Our trip only left time to evaluate trainee presentations and deliver a rare gift of bread, but it was absolutely rejuvenating. I feel so nostalgically happy there, so at home. I planned a repeat visit tomorrow, inshallah, before climbing into the white PC SUV with M. Even through a car window, the sun set was extraordinary. A massive thunderhead jutted mightily behind fluffed, flat-bottomed clouds dyed salmon, grey, oranged blue. Silhouettes of acacias dotted the incredibly flat and otherwise featureless horizon. Lightening and dusk illuminated marigots in a flashed melon hue. MT stretched his arms over the seat back, and we talked about futures and teaching and Columbia and New York and sunsets and perfect.

I gushed about my family to a luckily receptive audience; MT and the slightly creepy PC driver had already met and been charmed by my host family. Despite my fantastically productive service in Atar, I explained, the south would always encapsulate Mauritania. It would always feel… right. They nodded in the fading dusk, whether in understanding or agreement, I don’t know.

Rollercoaster, a whoo whoo whoo

Several downs as of late. I’ll not dwell, but instead provide a quick laundry list:

• Agreeing to sleep in MF’s office to guard computer/money since lock was broken. Waking up with PC staff banging on the door “maa-hu zeyn, maa-hu zeyn.” B and I grabbing blankets and pillows to escape to shamed safety.
  
• Being paragraphs away from finishing my 14 page Annual Report. Watching my flash drive effectively eat it. Restarting from absolute scratch.
  
• Walking in the blazing afternoon sun for a scheduled appointment at the bank. Arriving to an empty building and locked doors. Twice.
  
• Spending an entire day without breakfast, lunch, or even a measly snack. Apparently, heat makes me hungry-grumpy.
  
• Waving goodbye to KG, my coordinator, predecessor, and friend, as he rode off to Nouakchott, to COS, to America, to incommunicado?

And for the ups (I think I just like writing html lists…):

• Talking to Niger RPCV who visited during Atar Marathon.
  
• Connecting via email with NJG after a long hiatus.
  
• Moving in to the Coordinators’ House; I am officially EE coordinator!
  
• Drinking the night away with PCVs in town. Pulling several stomach muscled in absolute hysterics.
  
• Finishing laundry, my kingdom for a washing machine.

What’s left? Tomorrow I have to:

• Finish my Annual Report, gassar amar-u.
  
• Write up and lead two EE training sessions.
  
• Review my Hassaniye speech to deliver at the Sabualla trainees’ Closing Ceremony.
  
• Shoot off some email.
  
• Eat three balanced meals and ward off grumpy.

Goodnight for now, task list, goodnight creaky fan and whispering tree leaves and clapping thunder. I’ll see some of you tomorrow.

soit vigilant!

Just wanted to give a quick heads up for anyone following security in Northwest Africa. The U.S. Embassy released a Warden Message today, August 23, encouraging American citizens to "take increased security precautions" in response to recent "reports of planned activities such as kidnapping by Al-Qaeda in the Lands of the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM)." More information on the al-Qaeda Organization in the Islamic Maghreb here. The Pan African News Agency (PANA) published the following yesterday:

Mauritania Alerts Western Embassies on Terror Plan
Nouakchott, Mauritania - Mauritanian authorities have alerted Western diplomatic missions here over credible threats, including abduction of their nationals, by a branch the Al-Qaeda terrorist group operating in the Arab Maghreb, diplomatic sources told PANA here Tuesday.

The source said the Mauritanian authorities had also urged the Western embassies to take the warning seriously and prevail on their nationals to move around only during the day.

It said the warning came after the arrest of at least five people suspected of having links with the terrorist organisation in Boutilimitt city, some 150 km south of Nouakchott.

The Salafist Group for Preach and Fight (GSPC) has been officially renamed by the organsation's second-in-command, Ayman Dhawahri, following its allegiance to the Al-Qaeda armed branch in the Maghreb in September 2006.

The GSPC claimed responsibility for the deadly attack against the northern Lemgheyti military command in July 2004. GSPC has rattled the Maghreb countries with recent attacks in the Moroccan and Algerian capitals.
Nouakchott - 22/08/2007
Panapress

I don't post to alarm, just to inform. And to brag on our Peace Corps office. PC Nouakchott notified volunteers mere hours after the PANA article was published. Moreover, the Warden Message appeared in my inbox before it was posted online at the Mauritanian U.S. Embassy.

So, volunteers are security-savvy, and you are now better informed. Plus, I'm currently in a relatively inaccessible region of Mauritania, eating good, being happy. In other words: no worries.

flexing, exercising

To dear friends who have marked my disappearance:

I am here, alternately worked and bored to death, however quite far from dead. I should have been writing in the interim, but I forgot rule number 5.

Suffice to say, you know who you are. I miss you. And updates are forthcoming.

forecast calls for.... rain?

After an afternoon surrounded by a half dozen volunteers, I am claustrophobic, slightly misanthropic, and looking for a way to hide. I escape from the climate controlled computer lab and retreat to the main room. It is unventilated, but four times as spacious and quietly refreshing. Under the outer door glows the promise of a storm: yellow-green light pouring into the dark classroom. My fingers push the door, just barely, and the wind catches it, tugs it open as a thunderclap rumbles overhead. It is raining.

Chalk it up to global warming, disoriented weather patterns, or larium-induced delusions, but precipitation has graced Atar skies all month. I used to measure my service with the rain: no, my kids performed a play just after the April rain. Or, site visit ended just after that one drizzle in September. Recent precipitation has caught me, pleasantly, off guard. Now, I marvel at the darkening clouds and struggle to remember a time when rain just did not fall here. Meanwhile, the locals cower in fear, fret under overhangs, and wish for a drier climate.

A soft mist cools my face as I step out the swinging metal door. The concrete wall has been baking in the sun all day; I lean against it and absorb the warmth, uncomfortable but comforting, like a rumbling dryer on a summer day. Over the wall, I see a young, shaved head climb to the roof. He sneaks a glance at me, then ducks out of sight. Cowering in fear, but not from the rain. Casually, I turn my head to the street, pretending not to notice his curious peeping from the roof. Hiding or not, we can enjoy this moment together.