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Surprise Visitor
It wasn't very hot the other day (mid 90's) and I wasn't scheduled to teach, so I decided that I'd have a productive day at home. I awoke at sunrise and did all my laundry and cleaned my house. After deciding that a big pot of soup sounded delicious, I cancelled plans to eat lunch with my family and headed to the market for vegetables. As you've all seen the pictures of my kitchen, you probably are aware of the fact that I cook on a gas stove. The advantage of cooking on gas is that it is relatively inexpensive. The disadvantage is that the gas eventually needs to be refilled, after inevitably expiring at the most inconvenient of times. My soup wasn't even halfway finished when my stove died. My options were few. It was approaching noon, meaning that the only place in my village to refill would be closed until four or five. I wasn't about to let my hard-earned money go to waste, so I let my peace corps instincts take over. I found an old rusted out bowl in my yard that was big enough to fit my pot in. After looking around for burnable objects, I decided that donkey feces was the best way to go. I ran around like a crazy person collecting my fuel, which lit fairly easily . As my lunch begin to boil, I continued to collect tokens to add to the fire. As you can imagine, by this time I've attracted the attention of most of my neighbors, who I suspect, would have been in reclining chairs with popcorn and 64 ouncers, should they have had the resources. Now, it's important for you to have a vivid mental picture of me in your head. Imagine: I'm wearing sweatpants that are cut off just below the knees and a wife beater that's covered in paint (laundry day, remember?). I'm sweaty, unbathed, and am holding two armfulls of animal waste products with a pile of it on fire in the corner of my yard. So, of all the people that I probably wouldn't want pulling up to my house at that exact moment, who do you think would be at the top of that list?? How about the Ambassador of the United States to Mauritania himself. If you've never worked overseas, you may not understand the importance of Mister Ambassador. It would be the equivilant of Barack Obama pulling up to your house while you're simultaneously hosting a rummage sale and frying pickles in your underwear. Could I be any more white trash? P.S. PC Mauritania (aka the RIM Pirates) is now the three-peat champion of the West African Invitational Softball Tournament. We went 7-0, defeating teams that play all year long in a Dakar league. 82 RIM volunteers went to the tournament (17 of us were on the team). We were loud, obnoxious, and out of control. I'll leave it at that. What happens in Senegal stays in Dakar! |
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