Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope you all are well and passed the holiday with family and plenty of food. I am thankfull that you all are in my life!

And also because I forgot, happy election too! It is safe to say that my reputation here got better after the election and also I should mention that I know a few volunteers who cried when they finally heard the result at 4:30 in the morning, myself included. I hear there was a bit of that going on stateside as well. In the spirit of thanksgiving, I am also thankful to be able to share this moment in history with all of you.

Uprising

So there was a bit of an uprising in my village a number of weeks ago. However, before I tell the story though I need to give some background on the racial tensions here. Mauritania is comprised of three major ethnic groups; white Moor, black Moor, and black African, although the groups are not strictly restricted to the color of their name. White Moors are of Arab descent, are typically the most hard core Muslim, have the strictest culture, speak Hassanyia, a variation of Arab, and live in the more northern parts of the country. Black Moors are of African descent but have adopted the culture of the Moors, they speak Hassanyia and are generally slightly more liberal Muslims. Black Africans here speak either Pulaar, Sonike, or Wolof, are generally the most liberal Muslims, and live predominantly in the south. Although most everyone here speaks a number of local languages as well as French and Arabic because those are the only languages taught in school.

There have been racial tensions between the white Moors and black Africans for a long time and that came to a head in 1989. The trouble actually started between some Pulaar Mauritanian herders and some Pulaar Senegalese farmers over a land dispute, keeping in mind that the border between Mauritania and Senegal, formed by the river, was a product of colonization and not actual cultural differences. A Mauritanian was shot leading to further violence between the Mauritanian herders and Senegalese farmers over tensions that had been building for years. Neither of the governments of the two countries took actions to end the violence. In fact, the white Moor controlled Mauritanian government used the violence as an opportunity to try to expel all of the black Africans from Mauritania under the pretense that they were damaging the country and that was when the real violence started. Not unlike McCarthyism, being suspected of being black African was enough to warrant discrimination; only in this case that discrimination took the form of murder and forced expulsion. Whole towns were forced to leave the country. The town where I had my training was one of those. For years the Mauritanian government did not recognize the Mauritanian black Africans living Senegal as refugees and denied their existence. However, in 2007 the president, the same one who was ousted by a coup earlier this year, started a program to bring them back that fortunately is still continuing with the military government. Relations have greatly improved between the ethnic groups since 1989, but it is safe to say that there are still some lingering tensions. Those tensions were very much a factor when a Moor from the village immediately next to mine erected a fence on a piece of land that was typically used by the mostly Pulaar speaking people of my town.

I need to emphasize here that my understanding of the history and actual events of the situation is incomplete and is inaccurate. I can say that it is inaccurate with confidence because I have talked to the officials in my town and the one thing that they agree on is that they don’t all agree with the details. However, the basics are that the official above the mayor but below the governor, a white Moor, was asked to order the fence removed. He chose not to do that, potentially for legitimate reasons I don’t know. The next night 400 youth from my town got together and tore down the fence and a small building that was there. Hugely out numbered the police chose not to take any action until the next morning when reinforcements arrived. Riot police came, rocks were and tear gas were exchanged and arrests were made. I hadn’t heard of any of this until a friend stopped by and told me not to go into the market because there was a confrontation. Of course, I immediately went to the market to see what was going on. By the time I got there all of the action was over but a good portion of the village was just milling around. I wish I could tell you how it all was resolved, but it hasn’t been yet. It was actually a fairly controlled and level headed uprising, no other property was damaged and no one was hurt. I should also mention that while race was a factor, this had more to do with a protest against the inaction of the government than race. Things quickly settled down and are resolving themselves in their own Mauritanian fashion. Lets just say it is reminding me how lucky I am to live in a country with a strong, independent, and transparent judicial system.

Something Else

One of the aspects of my job that I like the most is the amount of freedom that I have. For example, I saw my boss for the first time in three months the other day. Yet, it should be no surprise that I am working just as much as if I was in the typical U.S. 9-5 job, and perhaps more depending on what you count as work. The point is that I can take hobbies and turn them into my job without much concern as long as they pass the test of my own conscience. For example, while visiting one of the primary schools I am assigned to I noticed that there were a lot of broken tables and benches (all the students here share tables and use benches not chairs). In passing I mentioned that I could probably repair them all. The director of the school happened to like that idea very much and long story short, two weeks, one black and blue thumb, two tubs of glue, one broken hammer, five cuts on my left hand, 60 rounds of tea, 3 kilos of nails, and 2,500 UM (~$13) from the parents association for materials later, 15 tables and 16 benches are now repaired. That’s enough seating for over 100 students which means there are no longer kids sitting on the floor at that school. Again, not exactly environmental education work, but its hard not to feel good about it. Plus, the school director and the inspector are pretty happy with me now and that should make my other projects go more smoothly.

While I was spending the two weeks repairing tables I felt bad that I was only at the one school and not doing environmental work because the director of the other school is really into it. About half way through I saw the other director and apologized for not being around to do environmental projects. When I explained what I was spending my time doing, he said “Really? That’s great! We have a whole bunch of broken tables at my school too!” I went over to check them out the other day, and let’s just say that there wasn’t the space to store all of the broken tables in one room so they had to split them up between three. There are more students sitting on the floor than there are at tables but there are enough tables for everyone if they all were repaired. I could easily spend two months just fixing tables there, which I will eventually do, but just one day a week at a time. Of course this project fails under the category of aid and not development by my previous definition, but when it costs next to nothing to give desks to hundreds of students, it’s hard to let the broken tables just sit there. However, I am looking for a parent who knows carpentry to help me out though.

Pictures of the two schools in which I work here: http://picasaweb.google.com/z.swank/PrimarySchools#

Success

Winston Churchill once said, “Success is the ability to move from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.” I think given the nature of my work here, that’s as good as a measure as any. In the case of my tree nursery project, it is not only a good measure but also sage advice. I have given the presentation a few more times and I am very proud to say that I have sold a few hundred nursery bags and people have started planting trees. While I am nervous until the trees sprout (some already have) and will not be completely satisfied until I see them being sold in the market (four months from now), I consider the act of making the investment of buying the bags to be the biggest success. People here are highly risk adverse and skeptical of new ideas, so that they are willing to risk some (even very little) money is a good indication of the worth of the project and my ability to express it. It’s been said better by more knowledgeable people before, but there is value in taking risks; Americans are typically risk takers and that has been citied as a reason of our rise to prominence in the world. I strongly believe that one of the most significant blockages to development in this country is people’s willingness to take risks and initiative. It’s certainly true that when you have less in general your safety net is smaller, but that still doesn’t mean that you should require everything to be a sure deal to attempt it. It is also true that from the perspective of Mauritanians, NGOs come in with big promises that they don’t always deliver on so it is good to be skeptical, but again, that doesn’t mean that everything should be anticipated negatively.

At any rate, the values of the tree nurseries appear to be proving themselves and I retain very high hopes for the overall success of the project. Ideally I envision the cheaply available trees meeting the demand that I already believe exists resulting in hundreds of trees being planted in the village and all of this happening with not much more work than I have already put in. I have chosen to partly evaluate the success of my projects here by how little work I have to do to get them going. My idea is that if it is a good project I ought to be able to get people to pretty much do it for themselves. If they are not willing to do that from the beginning, then it has little chance of being sustainable. Tom Sawyer is my idol. I strongly believe that all development work should operate in this manner and if it doesn’t then it is just aid, which is good for starving people but can actually have negative impacts for people who don’t really need it. I see the impacts of years of aid daily when people routinely ask me to give them just about everything I own when often much of what they want is within their reach, yet I know that they will not likely take the initiative needed to realize it. I want to be clear that I am not trying to say that people are lazy, just that a culture of dependency has developed here and it is embarrassing and depressing. Although I should also add that there is a strong gift giving as well as gift asking culture here, but I feel that the level requests that I personally receive and is expected from the outside world in general is unreasonable and detrimental.

I went off on a tangent there and I want to reiterate that I am extremely pleased with how the project is going and so are the Mauritanians who are involved in it. If this project lives up to its full potential, I will be satisfied with my service here, even if I accomplish nothing else.

Some local phrases of interest

It’s well known that not everything translates from one language or culture to another. In fact a lot of learning a new language is about learning how to think in that language as well as what the words mean in your own. The same is true for learning a new culture. Here are a few examples that I am struggling to adapt to:

- “Mi solkaani (I don’t need)…” Mauritania has a very indirect culture. If you have a problem with someone, a lot of times you will as a friend to talk to that person for you. For a while my neighbor was putting his stereo speaker in his window and blasting music out into the street. Mostly it didn’t bother me, but eventually I went over and asked him to take the speaker out of the window, to which he happily agreed. I found out a few days later that this had been bothering the whole neighborhood for weeks, but it was too direct to just ask him to take it out of the window. I think the best example of this though is the fact that when being pressed to buy things in the market, its impolite to say that you don’t need them because that is too direct. Instead, you are supposed to say “thanks”; “no thanks” is too direct as well.

- “Aan ko cukalel (You are a child)…” I’ve talked about social relationships here before, but it is difficult to accurately express how different the social culture is here. In the U.S. you are judged by who you associate with, but for the most part it is your own character that earns your reputation. Here, it is almost exclusively your who you associate with and your age and you only associate with your age group peers. Primarily your relationship with those older than you is based on doing what they tell you to do and for those younger than you, telling them what to do. In the U.S. after about 20-25 your age ceases to be a major factor in your social standing. However, here it never diminishes in importance. People are always surprised to find out my age and when they do they call me a child. Most people my age here are still more or less living to serve their parents, as is the role for all kids here.

- “Ine wodde yiyyi dum (It has been a long time)…” This one I get a lot. I think I many have mentioned this before but it’s difficult to have a lot of friends here, for both foreigners and nationals. One thing that I initially failed to appreciate is in a highly social culture, socialization takes more work. It simple to say and seems obvious, but in practice it has proven difficult for me. A great example is the phrase I mentioned. Basically, if I haven’t seen someone for just one day, they will tell me that it’s been a long time and ask me where I have been. (They will also ask me where I have been even if I have already seen them earlier.) Perhaps the most consistent event here is going to visit your friends; it takes priority over everything else and explains why not much else happens on time. I have to admit, there is a certain logic to it, what could be so important that you don’t have time to visit your friends. After all, in the long run, your social connections are generally more important than whatever it is you are rushing off to. However, I struggle to remember not to be indignant when people demand where I have been and that it has been a long time since I have seen them, especially when it has been less than 24 hours. In the U.S. it’s impolite and not true, but here it is just the opposite. That’s why it’s difficult to have a lot of friends here; you are expected to visit or call them every couple of days or they think you don’t care about them. Mostly I get by on the excuse that I am not from here.

A Tale of Two Games

It would be a gross understatement to say that my neighbor is like a father to me, so I took him seriously when he asked me to play in his first and perhaps last soccer match after he turned 60. However, Mauritania is a bit far away and I can’t leave the country for the first three months without being kicked out of the Peace Corps, so actually being there for the game was not an option. Instead, I arranged a game here to be played at the same time, which happened to be midnight, so I could be with him in spirit. Initially I was worried that it would be difficult to get people to agree to play so late, but I explained the situation and aside from the fact that they didn’t believe that you could be friends with someone that much older than you, they liked the idea. Really though, people here pretty much don’t need an excuse to play soccer.

We were six versus six, playing in the moonlight, because the electricity to the whole town shuts off at 11pm, on a patch of sand that had more cow patties than it did players. The other team scored three points early but we rallied and ended up winning the night with six points to their five. It was a very fun night and in the end I not only was able to be there in spirit but I actually started a tradition of late night games on the weekends (when there is enough moonlight).

Pictures here: http://picasaweb.google.com/z.swank/JackSSoccerGame#

Generation We

Millennials are the largest generation in American history. Born between 1978 and 2000, they are 95 million strong, compared to 78 million Baby Boomers. They are independent—politically, socially, and philosophically—and they are spearheading a period of sweeping change in America and around the world. No one knows the Millennials like Eric Greenberg. In Generation We, Greenberg explains the emerging power of the Millennial Generation, shows how they (and their supporters from other generations) are poised to change our nation and our world for the better, and lays out a powerful plan for progressive change that today's youth is ready to implement.

This is worth reading: http://www.gen-we.com/

It is a lot of hype, but in my experiences with the motivated people of my generation, the hype is mostly true. I don't think I am a shining example of what is described, but I definitely know some people who are. For all of us, lets hope that the hype proves completely true.

A few pictures

Sorry about the lack of pictures. Honestly, I am afraid to walk around my village with my camera because all the kids that see it will ask me to take a photo of them every time they see me. Some kids already ask me that and they don't even know I have a camera. Frankly, they harass me enough as it is, I don't need to give them another reason. However, pretty soon I will be taking some photos for a tree planting campaign I am thinking about doing and I should have some good ones of the community after that. For now you will just have to settle for my house and the chair I made: http://picasaweb.google.com/z.swank/Myhouse

Biogas

I love biogas; turning wastes into useful products and thereby reducing the need for the use of other fuel. It’s a perfect solution as far as the environment goes. The problem is that it’s not always viable. For example, until I came here I had never seen a working system that was used for home cooking. However, an NGO has funded the construction of a few systems in the town next to mine as an experimental project. The systems are not perfect, but they are functional. Basically there are two large barrels full of cow manure and water that are connected to an inner tube, which serves as a reservoir, which is in turn connected to the burner. It produces enough gas to cook the 9+ daily rounds of tea, but not enough to cook all of the meals. There are pictures here: http://picasaweb.google.com/z.swank/Biogas#

A biogas system like this would not be viable in the U.S. because people would expect it to power the furnace and the water heater too. Fortunately, the demand is not that great here. Also, I think that the culture here could be accepting of the system because they know that burning charcoal is a huge contributor of deforestation. (Its illegal to cut trees without permission. (That’s not enforced very well. I saw some one ride by every one from the mayor’s office with a load of freshly cut wood, they commented about it but did not do anything about it.))

The trouble with the system is that it doesn’t produce enough gas and it is a bit expensive. The whole set up costs 20,000 UM ($100). With the price and low level of production, it would take a year to recover the investment of the system. That’s too long for Mauritanian time frames. So I have a question for anyone who knows biogas, what could be done to increase the amount of gas that is being produced? Anything that would reduce the price would be good too, but that’s a harder question to answer when you don’t know the costs of things. I can send more specific information and descriptions if anyone is interested.

I would love to make this a project, and I think there is a way, but I need your help to make it better. Think if it as an opportunity to engage in international development work!

Happy Halloween

We had a good sized gathering here of volunteers to celebrate. I was wearing a cow's pelvis that I found as a mask. Looked a lot like the bunny from Donny Darko. I'll put up pictures when I can.