Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Sometimes, I forget that I've only just arrived in the RIM. A couple of months in Bababe and Kaedi, not yet two months here in Nema. So when I trade e-mails with friends, I'm amazed that they aren't shocked to hear from me and excited to hear what I'm up to. After all, it's less than four months since my departure. But on my end, it feels more like a lifetime.

For instance, I can communicate in a language that I could barely pick out of a lineup before. When I first came to Mauritania, my conversations ran along a standard line. "Bonjour," I would say. The response was either "Bonjour, [words I didn't understand]," to which I would calmly reply, "Does anyone here understand English? You speakee English? I'd try ancient Latin, if that's better for you!" But now I am able to understand what people say to me (for instance, "Good, the Christian is doing well"), and I am even able to respond. "Pardon, ma francais est faible," or "Sorry, my french is weak." How could it only have been four months, with so much progress?

Or work! On Monday, I begin offering sensibilizations (lessons) at the CREN (Center for Rehabilitation and Education on Nutrition), and the Centre de Sante, the maternal and child health center. I spent a week going to the two centers and making a general nuisance of myself in the hopes that my presence would be interpreted as enthusiasm. My plan paid off, and so I will be offering basic education on weaning, birth spacing, vaccinations, AIDS, nutrition, and more. Granted, I can only speak in broken French, and the directors of the two programs will be standing with me and translating my words into Hassaniya, the local Arabic dialect. But I will be working, offering education here in the RIM, and it hasn't even be a third of a year!

My cultural integration is also so far progressed that you would think I'd been living here for four years. I just rented a house, a lovely three room domicile. Big front yard, water spigot out front, and door that almost close, enough so that I can lock them. People often ask me about a house. "You live here?" "Yes, I do," I reply. "One person." "Yep, I'm American, and I live here in Nema! I'll be here for two years!" "Your house has three rooms. Why do you need three rooms?" "Because I'm American!" "Are you nuts?" "No, thank you, I'm allergic to nuts."

So you can understand why it feels like such a long time. My language, home, and cultural development have come a long way in a short time. You'd almost mistake me for a Mauritanian, if it weren't for the kids following me around yelling "Nazzirani! Nazzirani!" (Christian! Christian!"