2005-01-24 - 10:57 a.m.

I know that I promised to write about my vacation to Nouakchott and Senegal, but inspiration has yet to strike. I got an e-mail from Pat a while back, and he asked if I worried that telling all of my stories on-line would leave me with none to tell when I get back home. Well this can be a story I will save along with many of the others I refuse to get off my butt and type about. Inspiration to write has been low for a while, as you all may be able to tell. I hate to force writing because it comes out sloppy and unentertaining (not that the rest is all that thrilling and organized).

The Paris-Dakar rally went through Atar this week. Not much changed except for an increased number of 4-wheel drive vehicles, motorcycles, Nasaraniis, and vendors trying to sell me crap I have absolutely no use for. Tourism is big in Atar. Lots of Europeans come through to take desert excursions, and as a result there are thousands of tourist shops with people that try to flag down any white person within a quarter mile. If the shop keepers get too forceful and annoying with me, I tell them to look closely at my face. “Remember this face. I am a volunteer here. I have no money. I do not want your crap, so do not ask me to buy it again.” I then pull out my pockets to show they are empty (and they almost always are). “See, I have no money. If you want to give me that stuff for free you can, otherwise leave me alone.” I generally get a laugh or two, and over the last few months the assaults have slowly dwindled to a dull roar.

Work is beginning to pick back up. I have begun transplanting the trees I planted 3 months ago around the boarder of my elementary school. The gardening class I teach at the local technical school is also running smoothly. I told them about Moringa this week. I think the women in my class may be my best hope for it. If I can get them to grow it at home, they will later be able to sell it in the markets and it will always be available to the community. They seem excited enough about it, but I’ll have to do my best to keep them motivated.

Moringa is what I’m known for around town. The project has spread by word of mouth through the children. I will often hear kids in the street singing my songs who aren’t even in my school. Many kids think my name is Moringa, and will call it out to me as I ride by on my bike. The other day a kid came up to me on the street and said “Monsieur, donne moi Moringa (sir, give me a Moringa).” I was overjoyed, and told him I assuredly would, but stopped short upon reflection. I asked him if he knew what a Moringa was. He told me it was money. I guess all this isn’t foolproof.

I’ve started giving classes at the girls center. My first one was on…Moringa (God, I need to get some new ideas). This week I have them for two nights, and I am teaching them how to make a garden. Some of them are very nice and enthusiastic. The rest could give a darn about the whole thing. They almost all pitched in to help set up the plots though. I was happy because women are generally scorned from doing any sort of manual labor. At least I am breaking down some walls of sexual discrimination. I plan on making some trips over to the high school to get some instructors to come in and give the girls private tutoring. We can do our cute little classes about gardening till the cows come home, but none of it is really going to help the girls attain a higher level in society. What they need is a leg up on their exams, and I hope to be able to give them that.

I have begun passively house shopping. I’m sick of living so far outside of town, and being so far away from Alison and Audrey’s. I think I would loaf around their house less if I didn’t have to bike so far to get home. Not that it makes a big difference where I loaf, it just hinders me from doing my laundry and dishes while I’m in the act. A side note: my turkey impersonating goat neighbor didn’t make a peep until 5:30 this morning. Since I get up at 5:45, I have few complaints. I’m not going to hold my breath for a repeat performance, but maybe all the rock throwing is having some sort of pavlovian effect, or maybe I just slept through the gobbles last night.

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