Since my last post, I’ve dove in and buckled down in Magta Lahjar. My Hassaniya wasn’t where I wanted it to be, so I started having lunch with the people the most patient with me. One of these people is Mukawalie. Her family lives in three houses in close proximity to my house. I see her cousins every day as they sit outside of their boutique and ask me why I don’t buy milk from them every day. Mukawalie is a friend of Chelsey’s and has slowly been growing on me. When Chelsey went away for the Close of Service conference for the second year volunteers, Mukawalie and I had a lot of time together. In January, Mukawalie had the suspicion she was pregnant. She has been trying to get pregnant for almost five years. There have been a couple of times she’s thought she’s been pregnant, but either wasn’t or miscarried. Chelsey and I kept our fingers crossed and told her to go to the doctor in Aleg to confirm it and to get vitamins. She kept putting it off, and after three months, started feeling really tired and sore. Chelsey and I decided to, financially, get her to Aleg. Mukawalie didn’t have any family members that would go with her. Not even her husband, Cheik. So the day before Easter, I took off to Aleg with Mukawalie. I figured the doctor’s office wait would be worse than in America. Instead, we walked in, she went to the back room immediately, and was out in 10 minutes. She didn’t say much. We went to a restaurant to meet up with a fellow volunteer, Ashley, who lives in Aleg. Once we were settled, I asked how it went. She said that she had been pregnant, but now the baby was dead. It broke my heart that for three months she’s had her hopes up, just to have another let down. She got home and told her family, but Mauritanians aren’t too emotional about death. I guess she’ll try again.
Razza
For St. Patrick’s Day, I headed to Nouakchott for a couple of days to get Razza spayed. The first night I was there, I ran into some Americans at Schenkers. It was a group of guys contracted to work with the US Embassy. I enjoyed their company all night, and they generously offered me a few gifts from America, as they were leaving the next day and could buy something simple, such as Girl Scout Cookies, once they were home. I was thankful to hang out with some new Americans and feel like I was hanging out in a bar at home. The next day, I had to face the reality that I’m living in a third world country. That morning, I got up and grabbed a taxi to the vet’s office. I arrived at this tiny, two room building. There was one man working at the desk. When I got there, he called the vet, who showed up a couple of minutes later. We took Razza into this cold, drab room and he told me to put her on the steel table. I had to hold her while they took her temperature and gave her the sedative shot. Their bedside manner was a bit lacking. Once she’d been given her shot, they pointed to a cage built on the ground and said to put her in there. They said come back at 4pm. Her cries when I was leaving the office made it so hard! At 3:45, I was back and ready to see the pup. The office assistant led me to the room with the cage and let me take her out. She was still terribly drugged up and couldn’t move anything but her tail, which was slapping on the ground. I looked at the incision wound. Now, the spayings I have seen in the US consist of a tiny cut, held together by fancy glue. This cut was about 4-5inches long and had been pulled up and pinched together before being sewn up. It was painful to just look at it. I was given a can of aluminum to spray on it so it wouldn’t get infected. No pain killers. No healing ointment. That night, Razza was a sad case. She couldn’t get up and walk, which means she couldn’t get up to use the bathroom or get food or water. It was a rough trip back to Magta, but once we were home, her spirits improved. After a month, she’s almost completely healed and back to her bouncy puppy self. I’ve promised her that I’ll never take her to a third world veterinarian again! There have been no complications, and no one has ever had any complaints about the vet. I’m glad that he has his practice, as he is the only vet in Mauritania that spays and neuters our pets. It was just a bit difficult seeing the procedure done this way, after only experiencing the best in the US.
Work
After months of “getting to know the community”, I finally had the opportunity to put my talents to use. An NGO in Magta Lahjar told me they were having a 4-day training with cooperatives from remote villages. The first two days would be information on AIDS and Human Rights. They asked me if I could do trainings for the last two days. I was so excited and spent the next week planning two presentations: One on “Cost Calculations” and one on “Accounting and Budgeting”. The day before my presentations, I went to the NGO to go over it with them. The guy that was working there seemed a little frustrated. He told me that they didn’t realize how uneducated these people would be, saying many of them couldn’t write their names. Reading and writing was not a possibility with these people. My plans seemed ridiculous. I showed him what I was planning and we condensed everything into one day of training, saying I’d use the second day for review. All of the group projects I had planned (get together and make lists of what you buy for your business) were scratched. I went in on my first day, pretty nervous. There were 5 men and 5 women. I started with a very basic concept. I explained that “Direct Costs” were what they bought for their business that related directly to the product. “Indirect Costs” were all other expenses, like rent or electricity. I gave them an example of a boutique and divided the costs. Then I gave them another example, a list of costs, and asked them to tell me which costs went into which category. Blank stares. The translator explained the concept to them again and again. Blank stares. His frustration started to show as he got up, drew two boxes on the board. He said “This box is for men. This box is for women. Here is a list of names. You either put the name under the “Men” box or the “Women” box.” It wasn’t that they didn’t understand the difference between direct and indirect costs; it was that they don’t know how to categorize a list. It became apparent to me just how uneducated these people were. It was a learning experience for all of us. Hopefully, in the future, I’ll be working more with cooperatives from Magta Lahjar and will be able to explain my topics a little better. It wasn’t a complete failure. At the end of the day, a few of the people were giving ideas of how they could reduce costs at their business. I think just putting the idea in their head that they can track their money and prepare better was a good step.
Reese Elizabeth Vaughn
Although this doesn’t have anything to do with Mauritania, I wanted to congratulate two of my dearest friends, Kristen and Jeff Vaughn, on the birth of their daughter, Reese Elizabeth Vaughn. Kristen and Jeff have been close friends of mine since we met in college. As exciting as it’s been, this has been one of the hardest moments since I’ve been in Mauritania. I wish them the best and can’t wait to meet Reese. Congrats again to the Ruggeri and Vaughn families! I love you guys!
The countdown to South Africa continues. In less than two weeks, Adam and I will be enjoying the pleasures of the first world. The next update will tell you all about it! Thanks for reading and keep in touch! Love, Liz.
