A Nights Relief

When I first arrived in the RIM, I chipped my tooth. Front and center (or left of center, which is appropriate, I suppose), a nasty little gash. I was told that I couldn't go to the dentist yet because training was very urgent, but as affectation (graduation) approached, I became more and more concerned. I didn't want to go to Nema, 1200 kilometers from the dentist, and not be able to have the work done for three more months. So I called the PCMO (medical officer) to straighten things out. Which landed me in Nouakchott for about 18 hours.

18 glorious hours.

I stayed in the same hotel as when I first arrived in-country. My first thought that first day was "I would be really sketched out by this place if I weren't surrounded by fellow stagiares and staffers." The steps weren't all the same height, it was dark and smokey, things just didn't seem quite right. It was the sort of hotel that, in Hollywood films, provokes anxiety in the audience and hubris in the cast. Last night, as I checked in, I was struck by what a nice place it is.

It's amazing what two months will do to you. I've been living in a mud brick house, the mortar is mud, the floor is mud, and the ceiling is corrugated tin pinned down by mud bricks. The doors are salvaged wood from shipping crates. I sleep in my tent and on a thin foam mat, either inside or outside (if outside, I decamp and relocate inside, pitching the tent again when I have cleared my space). And for cultural reasons, I always wear at least shorts and a t-shirt when I sleep. And even then, there's no need for a blanket, except to keep the sand off of me. I'm not complaining, please don't think that I am. These are just the facts of my home.

Finding myself suddenly in a building with air conditioning, a television, flights of stairs, carpeting, windows, two beds I could push together to make a double bed, air cool enough to make blankets pleasant (because I turned the AC up really, really high), a choice of how well attired I was as I slept... for the first time in my life, I begin to understand the difficulty that one can have re-acclimating to the bounty of the US after years abroad in the developing world. This is not to say that I had difficulty making use of the amenities, but I did cackle in a decidedly gleeful way, perhaps even mischievously, feeling deep in my heart that I was getting away with something.

Which, to be fair, I was. Nothing illegal, nothing even frowned upon. But lovely, all the same. At the hotel I found myself across the hall from a PCV who is in the process of closing his service and preparing to return home. And so I fulfilled all of my wildest fantasies, the dreams I've held close to my heart for two long months. We went to Shakers, a tubob (foreigner) restaurant, a bar. I've been living like a miser in one of the poorest countries in the world, taking my two dollars a day and spending maybe one. So that night, with a relish that a gourmet would envy, I ate, no, dined, delicately partook of, a pizza, the best thin-crusted margarita pizza that I have ever tasted. My saliva leeched every modicum of flavor from those unpitted olives that they held. My teeth delighted in breaking the crisp crust. The cheese lingered behind my lips, in my cheeks, a dream unforgotten. And three beers. Cold, carbonated, superior in every aspect to any drink I have ever imbibed. All for a mere 17 dollars American, or 3300 UM, two thirds of what I have saved.

Then I visited the dentist, and he took care of me. My tooth is now in good condition, the damage repaired. I return to Kaedi shortly. And I will be back to life as I now know it. But I will take with me the memory of one of the happiest, most relaxing nights of my life.

It's Like That Tom Hanks Movie, But Funny

I've done a lot of writing about what I've been doing, but I haven't said much about what I'm here to do.

I am a health education volunteer. I'll be working with all levels of the Mauritanian health care system to improve the delivery of services to the people and to improve the people's knowledge of the systems and of preventative measures that they can take. For instance, I can tell people that they need to go to the doctor when they have malaria. I can also tell them to get into a mosquito tent and wear mosquito repellant (which I can also teach them to make). The first lesson is important, but the second can make the first irrelevant. Savvy?

But it is important to remember that I'm just an idealistic American with a good education. Emphasis on "just." The folks here know what they want, know what they are willing to do, know when they get sick and what the symptoms are. So when I move to Nema, I will spend the first three months doing virtually nothing. I will be responsible for hanging out. That is my assignment. Once I know the language and the people better, I can start to ask questions. Make a seasonal calendar, draw a map depicting what the people find to be relevant. What I'm most looking forward to, though, is the Needs Assessment. Sitting down with a handful of Host Country Nationals (HCN's) and finding what they care about, what in that list is feasible, and making an action plan based on that list. So Malaria might be my first project. Or it might not make the cut, and I'll spend two years helping to plan out a waste management system. That's not to say that I don't have my priorities, it's just that they will have to be tempered by the needs of the community. We'll see what happens.

To make things happen, I'll be working with a lot of different people. The Small Enterprise Development (SED) volunteer in my region will be a good contact, and we will probably try to find ways to make health profitable for the women's co-ops. I'll be working alongside an education volunteer and a girls education volunteer, both of whom will have great connections with youths. I've already spoken with the head doctor at the hospital, the regional head of the governmental health bureaucracy, and the traditional medicine guy. And there is a French NGO working out of Nema on various health issues, including some that I have been sent in to work on.

There's plenty to be done, but I think I'll have a lot of support, and I hope to be a good support for those with whom I am working.