27 April 2006 - 08:51
Caleb is one of my best friends in PC-Mauritania, so I was excited to find out that his dad was coming for a visit – I’ve always wondered how something like Caleb happened (this is something I ponder about most of my friends and non-friends alike on a regular basis), and this would be my chance to find out. Caleb actually has work in his village, so he asked me to come down and help him with his projects and babysit his dad for a week. I, not really having anything to do in Tidjikja, was happy to oblige.
Denis-palooza Week turned out to be a sandy sort of Blue Collar Comedy Tour in Agamamine (Caleb’s village). We all had a good time together, hanging out, working in the garden, exploring the area around the village, playing poker, receiving gifts from villagers, and poking fun at each other all week long. Some highlights:
Caleb’s mom called like three times a day, every day Denis was here. One day, the reception was weak, and one of her calls got cut off. The next time she called, Denis explained that the reception in the village was bad, which Mrs. Judy passed on to her mother, who replied, “That’s just terrible. Sometimes I think those people over there just flat-out don’t like us.” To which Mrs. Judy responded, “No, Mom – the cell phone reception was bad, not the villagers’ reception.”
One of Caleb’s friends took us out to his garden to give us a look around and feed us. On the way out, he decided he wanted to show off his gun too. Both Denis and I just about hit the dirt when he swung it right in front of our faces as he turned it around. Brahim was definitely not a graduate of any hunter safety course. A few minutes later, he asked Caleb, in Hassaniye, if he wanted him to go get something that Caleb didn’t know the word for. “Bombs! Do you want me to get the bombs?” explained Brahim, in French. What?! We figured out that he meant (and had said originally, in Hassaniye) bullets. But it was still a little disconcerting to have a guy in a turban ask us if we wanted him to go get some bombs…
Another of Caleb’s friends, in response to Caleb being a smartaleck, informed him that “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your dad, but as soon as he gets on the plane, I’m going to whup you. God shorten your life!”
One night before bed, Denis mentioned that my mosquito net looked a little like a cow, and he wouldn’t be surprised if one of the bulls wandering around near us took a liking to it and decided to give it a little go-around. I woke up three times that night, every time I heard a cow moo.
Denis wore boots all week, “to keep his feet clean,” despite the 110-degree weather, and the fact that it’s nearly impossible to walk in sand in cowboy boots. He also managed to master the PC, accept-anything approach pretty quickly – anything he wasn’t quite sure he liked was “a little different.” Beautiful.
PCVs are used to drinking a gallon of water a day, but most Americans, Denis included, are not. His first day in the village, he didn’t get enough water and got heat exhaustion. Luckily for him, we had an Amazing Health Volunteer on call, and I made him drink some Oral Rehydration Salts that I always keep on hand for such occasions. I think ORSs taste like the ocean, and I don’t mind them much, but most people detest them. Denis was not a fan, but I wouldn’t leave him alone until he finished the solution. It made him feel better, and I totally saved his life. I don’t know if it was because he learned his lesson about staying properly hydrated, or if he just didn’t want to have to drink any more ORSs, but he didn’t have any more dehydration problems after that day…
The day after Denis almost died (ok, he wasn’t anywhere near death), I came back from the bathroom with a cup of water, which I handed to him. “I know this is a little weird, but I just did it because you really need to stay hydrated, and the best way to know if you’re properly hydrated is to look at your pee. If it’s dark, you’re in trouble, and you need a lot of water. But if it’s light or clear, like mine there, you’re in good shape. You can touch it if you want – urine is sterile.” This was our second day together, and Denis didn’t quite know what to make of it for a minute, and I think even Caleb was wondering if I was capable of being that gross, but then I started laughing.
Being in Caleb’s village with him reminded me of all the things I used to like about village life – clear, star-filled nights; non-amplified prayer calls, people cooking for you – and all the things I hated – no privacy; the endless parade of Sundays with few distractions; and freakin’ animals everywhere. But Caleb’s village was a little bit bigger, and quite a bit friendlier than mine had been. I was a little jealous of how well integrated he was into his community – something I feel like I missed out on this go-around of Peace Corps.
One day, coming back from working in the garden, we found Caleb’s host brother and his best friend, both of whom, despite Caleb’s best efforts, are chronically pants-less. When we arrived back at Caleb’s house to find them there, I decided that the naked 4-year-olds needed to quit playing around and get to work – I handed one of them my shovel and gave Caleb’s to the other and told them I needed them to dig a well…right there. Which is how the Funniest Picture I’ve Taken In Africa came about…
