2004-11-27 - 7:16 p.m.

Much of the time spent working as a Peace Corps volunteer is filled with a sense of utter futility. The problems with which we are dealing with are so daunting; one cannot help but feel that all of our efforts are hopeless. Emotions here are a roller coaster of ups and downs. The slightest remark can make you feel horrible for a week, but a smile from an unexpected face can bring you back up. I know of no volunteer, however, that has never experienced a day where they ask themselves the eternal question “Why am I here?” Although I am happy in Mauritania and the idea of returning to The States scares the begebus out of me, I do question whether my work will actually make a difference.

This last Friday I attended the Science class taught by Touree, the 5th grade French teacher. The subject of the lesson was the environment. I had given him some suggestions on how to improve the content and use the school garden as a teaching aid. I wanted to sit in and see how my suggestions went over. The lesson started out well, with most of the class paying attention and doing their best to understand. Almost like clockwork, however, 30 minutes in interest began to diminish. The level of French for most of the students was too low to understand the material. Touree is an excellent instructor and did his best to use different tools to illustrate his points. This worked with some success, but after 15 more minutes, even the best students had a hard time keeping up.

One of the reasons I respect Touree so much is the fact that he rarely beats children. There are some instructors at my school that hit the kids repeatedly across the back for a simple grammatical error. As the science class began to lose focus and talk amongst themselves, the normal response for most other Mauritanian professors would be to beat the children into submission. Touree on the other hand lets them sing songs. It gives the kids a chance to wake up, in addition to giving him a break from yelling at them to pay attention and keep quiet. I have seen him do this in other classes and it generally works really well. He asks the kids if anyone wants to come to the front to sing a song. They all raise their hands screaming “Me, sir!” He randomly selects someone from among the mass, and that child marches to the front to belt out the song of his or her choice. Last Thursday I was ready to be entertained once again as the class broke into chaos, and he informed them all it was song time.

Normally when I sit in on classes I try to maintain a stone like composure of seriousness. Because I have given lessons in all the classes the students now recognize my authority as an instructor, but if I smile too much or laugh at their antics, the jig is up, and I’m just a silly white guy that needs no respect. This last Thursday, however, holding back a smile wasn’t especially difficult. I was at the bottom of an emotional trough, having recently received bad news in addition to the normal loneliness of being in a foreign country. I barely looked up as the first student walked to the front of the room to sing his song of choice. The moment the first notes exited his lips, however, I was helpless, not able to hold back a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He was singing the Moringa song, my song. The one I had written for the 5th and 6th year classes that I had believed no one had retained or understood. I had to hold back tears as he hit every note exactly on key, not missing a single word of the tune. I threw back all seriousness when he finished and clapped at this marvel of my own workings. Touree called the second student to come sing and to my astonishment she had also memorized it. The smile would not leave my face as she too hit every note correctly. The third Student was almost too much, but I sat through a total of 8 students during song time that day, and everyone of them chose my Moringa song to sing, and everyone of them had memorized it exactly. I had reached them. They actually paid attention to my lesson, and had kept it with them. These are the moments that they tell you about when you apply for Peace Corps. This is what service is about.

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and for the second time in my life I have spent it away from family. It felt odd to be celebrating one of my favorite holidays in 90 degree weather, surrounded by sand and palm trees. We had all of the necessaries, with a few substitutions: Chicken instead of Turkey, Squash pie (which I made) in place of pumpkin. We all kept the spirit alive, and even spent the evening after playing Risk (board and pieces I also made from scratch). Though I miss my family, I am grateful to have had such great company. We are becoming a family here in the Adrar, and we keep each other strong. My victory in 5th year was one for all of us, and I shared it that evening as my one thing to be thankful for: meaning for my labour and encouragement to continue.

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