My First Journal Entry

I actually have an online journal. This is truly a landmark day which I never thought would come. I am overwhelmed. Millions of people reading MY words for inspiration. Or not. I was playing with titles trying to figure out something just right. Aminetou's Escapades in Aioun is not it, so the title will be changing. I will probably babble quite a bit (like I am right now but it's the emotion talking, I swear), so I need to hire an editor. Lauren, are you up to the task? ;)

For those of you who haven't heard, I have a puppy. An adorable little puppy named Rokie. Her name comes from a popular Spanish soap opera that my family watches every night (dubbed in French). For all available male pups out there, she likes long walks on the sand (i.e. she follows me everywhere), raw red meat (i.e. meaning intestinal parasites, bacterial infections, and flies everywhere), and hopefully will be fixed soon (i.e. no baby Rokies). That last part is contingent upon my host dad, a veterinarian, overcoming his intense disgust for canines. Welcome to Mauritania. Ai, do you want to fly over here and do the procedure? She also likes to chew. A lot. Foam mattresses are sufficient backups, but human hands are preferred. A man stopped me on the street and gave her to me. My brother Baicha helped me build a dog house from which Rokie continually manages to escape. So as a cage it's a rather useless contraption, but as far as Mauritanian yard art goes, it's not bad. The purpose of it was to stop terrorism. Yes, it exists even in an Islamic Republic (ooh, now my journal will be read by CIA intelligence officials scanning the internet for words of anti-Americanism, pro-Islamic extremism). But I mean terrorism in the sense of Rokie chasing the neighborhood chickens and my very sweet, dogophobic sisters. Also it protects Rokie from the 100+ kids that pass in front of my room several times a day going to and from the primary school and who would love to terrorize her.

Today I was supposed to go observe this woman's co-operative NGO. She is a white Moor with a fancy mulafa and watch. Being completely superficial, I am skeptical that her NGO actually does anything. But I really want to show some women's co-op the carrot preservation idea before carrots disappear from the market until next year. However she just came in and told me she couldn't do it. The whole conversation was conducted in Hassaniya. (Those of you who have heard my Hassaniya will know then that I said yes to something, but I have no idea what it was. The last time this happened it was a marriage proposal, but I got out of it.) I heard she, cannot, today, bediya (countryside), going, you, Bara Bara, inshallah. This is cool because Bara Bara is a tiny village 5 km outside of Aioun, and I have been wanting to visit it for awhile. Before now my experience was limited to squinted views from nearby Crocodile Rock, an excellent hiking rock with a good sunset view and a small lake with crocodiles at the base of it.

Also I have my Pulaar lesson today with Jemila. There are 2 Jemilas: One is a white Moor who "manages" the internet cafe, plays Solitaire and drinks tea. The other is a Pulaar woman who volunteers at the Girls Mentoring Center, helps Genny and myself, is committed to promoting continuing education for high school girls, works as an Arabic teacher at the school, tutors me in Arabic/Pulaar, and is raising 2 young children by herself. Is there any wonder the Moors get a bad reputation?

Ok, I need to go get on with my day. Although with my meeting cancelled, I guess I will just plan my next GMC class. Or wander aimlessly about town. Or visit Omar's music shop for a round of tea.