Yeah, Mom, I’m still wishing my summers away

The first day of school! I’m giddier than a 3rd grader and can hardly contain my excitement. School! Despite the hunger pangs of Ramadan and unapologetic drafts off hot plateaus, students and teachers begrudgingly returned to class. Although all were let out by noon, shirt tails were tucked, books were distributed, attendance was taken, and this volunteer now has a purpose.

For any of you following my adventures, I have been on the road all summer: festivals in Senegal, vacations in America, conferences in Nouakchott, girls’ camps in Kaedi and Aioun, volunteer trainings in Kaedi, protocol in Akjoujt… Since May I had essentially lived out of a suitcase. I arrived, home, in Atar in September, only to fall flat on my face. My hectic schedule hit a wall and boredom threatened immediately. Desperate, I busied myself with meeting government officials, finding housing for out new volunteers, breaking fast with families, and moving myself into a new (and improved!) house.

But busy work is just that, and I was impatient to reestablish routines, reconnect with teachers, and mold¹ young minds. Finally, il hamdullilah, school started today. And what a superb first day.

I started at Ecole 3, my predecessor’s stomping ground, my official posting, my most problematic school. We yelled out greetings, flashed genuine smiles, slapped hands, revisited old jokes, arranged my impending marriage to a Mauritanian, and had a fabulous time. No matter that I arrived in the middle of the day, when teachers should be leading classes or, at the very least, disciplining the rugrats. Conveniently, I was seen by a local landlord, several inquisitive parents, and an inspector-type from the Administration. My presence screamed: yes, I am here, I am productive, and I might even teach your kid. Visibility is PR is Peace Corps Perfect.

I continued to Ecole 6, where fortune struck a second time. The first day of school is an important day to show up, but not the most productive. With parents cycling in and out with kids to enroll, the director was frazzled and the teachers continually interrupted. Greetings and smiles aside, I promised to come back and snuck out the door. Outside the gates, big wigs from the Administration were piling out of shiny SUVs, dressed to the nines, and looking important. Obligatory greetings paved the second opportunity to meet new bureaucrats and be seen. Khadijetou: 2, Idle summer: 0.

By the time I set out for Ecole 8, the wind had picked up (dust). Suddenly, the 20+ minute hike seemed too long, the sun too bright. Cue the Chef d’Enseignement Fondamentale, a large-ish title at the Administration. Sidi Ahmed beckoned me to his car, explaining he was on mission to visit Atar schools, he was on his way to Edebaye, and by the way did I have the number for Ecole 8’s director? Eye for an eye, ride for a number, I climbed in and we exchanged contact information and thank yous. “We are so grateful for your work here.” Nice to meet you Mr. Bureaucrat. That’d be a hat trick folks.

Ecole 8 yielded the warmest reunion; I had sincerely missed my counterpart Ba and his thousand-watt smile betrayed the excitement he tried to hide casually behind sunglasses. I fought every impulse to hug him, hoping he understood how glad I was to be near him. We moved quickly from canned greetings to actual conversation, only to be interrupted by unexpected visitors. Ba, ‘Ide, the director and I (in pure mimicry) rose awkwardly to greet two suits that had arrived in yet another set of shiny all terrain vehicles. After grilling the director on attendance, enrollment and other numbers he did not bother to record, he turned to me. “So,” he probed, “what have you done for environmental education here?” Not only did he know I worked there, but he knew my sector, and ostensibly my vocation as Peace Corps volunteer. I shot a knowing glance at Ba and proudly spouted the activities we had led together the year before and planned for the coming year. The suit had not expected such a well-articulated response and seemed impressed. I couldn’t have done better with a PowerPoint and a business card. Score.

An incredibly productive day and it’s not even noon. Later, I plan to hit up the mayor’s office, pay some regional bills, and break fast with my new neighbors. I suppose I’ve been just as busy these past few weeks, but it feels different now that school is in session. It’s my bread and butter, my comfort zone, my purpose. Once lost, now am found. Looking for Khadijetou? Go back to school.


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1: i.e. environmentally brainwash; it’s ok, it’s harmless and effective!