Hot, Sweaty, and "Beautiful"?

The flies indiscriminately hop from leg to leg, and a mixture of dirt and other questionable substances (read: donkey dung) perpetually cakes my feet. I have also become accustomed to the dried sweat perpetually coating my body and, as a result, no longer sense my own smell/stench, if it indeed exists. All this, and yet I am still heralded with "Beautiful! Beautiful!" as I walk down the street each day. How might this social paradox come to pass, you might ask? Allow me to explain...

"Aane' esmi Zeina Sidebe"or for the anglophones in the audience, my name is Zeina Sidebe. Upon arriving at my homestay 6 days ago, I was quickly baptized into the Sidebe family with the new name, Zeina. Technically speaking, I was named after both my younger sister and my aunt, Zeina the Deuxieme and Zeina the Premiere respectively, but I like to think that my family recognized my inherent loveliness and thus decided to give me the name, Zeina, which translates as "beautiful" in Hassaniya - a local language. In addition to my new name, my family also gifted me with a pair of shower shoes, a bucket for showering, and, most importantly, a mulafa (Arab veil, google it). As a Women's Studies major at UVa, I disected and discussed the Islamic tradition of veiling women in class after class, but never believed that I would soon share something in common with the objects of my studies. Inside my compound, I can pretty much dress as I please - long skirt, tank top - but once I step beyond its mud-colored, plaster walls, I done my "costume" quicker than Superman in a telephone booth. I can't lie; it's an adjustment. No more low cut shirts or pants of any sort; forget boobs, revealing anything above your ankles is considered flashing here. That said, it's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. It's yet another aspect of life in Mauritania about which you have little choice other than to laugh and roll with it. For example, when the wind kicks up, whipping sand in your eyes and wrapping your mulafa around your face, and you subsequently trip on your overly long mulafa and fall in the middle of the market to cries of "Toubab! Toubab!" In those moments, you have little choice but to laugh at life's ridiculousness here in the RIM.


In any case, life since my last post has been an interesting mixture of eventfulness and uneventfulness. As wonderful as it has been, moving in with my Mauritanian family was an even greater transition than the one experienced when we first arrived in the country. I know I can expect another big jump when I move to my permanent site in late August/September. I live with the Sidebe (Sid-a-bay) Family - a large, well-educated, fairly wealthy, and greatly respected family - in the Satara neighborhood of Rosso. While at home, I am continually meeting new family members, distant and immediate in relation. As a result, I'm still trying to figure out the family tree in all its varied dimensions and have, on occasion, passed family members on the street without properly greeting them. Quite the slight to those third cousins of mine.


On the whole though, I am incredibly fortunate. I have my own room with lock and carpet; the house has electricity, three TV's, and running water for its shower; and my family respects my space and my vegetarian diet, allowing me to eat rice, potato, and carrots for almost every meal. They even bring me salad-like meals on occasion! My family has also been incredibly patient with my stumbling but steadily improving French and Hassiniya language skills. Each night, no matter how tired I may be, I receive lessons in gutteral-sounding Hassiniya with the aid of my entire family. As we sit in the courtyard, enjoying our late night round of tea, they quiz me again and again on the words for the various body parts, days of the week, and numbers. At night, I also have private lessons in French and Hassiniya with my younger sister, Zeina, in return for English lessons. Thus I am perpetually a sponge for cultural and linguistic information - during the day with my language tutor and at night with my family. While tiring, it is a wonderful arrangement and has enabled me to assimilate so much more quickly than I otherwise would have. I mean...how can watching Brazilian soap operas dubbed over in Arabic all day not be enriching? You tell me.

Alas it is time for me to sign off once again. Tonight, I'm spending the night at the Center with the other Health Education volunteers and am treating myself to some good ole fashioned American fun with some card games. Bon nuit!