Communication Skills

I think I previously described Oumou, my Pulaar friend in Magtalahjar, and how the first day we crossed paths in the road, she demanded that I come have lunch at her house. Pretty much every time I went over there, Oumou made me promise that I would come see her in her village this summer. I assured her and reassured her and swore on the name of Allah (I figure I can do that since Allah and God are the same, so it’s just like swearing to God, right?) that I’d come.

She gave me the name of her cousin here in Kaedi and apparently gave him my name, because the first day we arrived here in Kaedi, this Abdoul Ba came to the school looking for me. We greeted and greeted and he told me that he had no phone, but that I could find him at the water company’s office.

So here we are now, with a nice pause in training activities, and I’m hoping to make good on my promise to Oumou. There’s no cell coverage in her village, so in order to get in touch with her, I’ve got to send her a message through her cousin, who will send the message on taxi brousse. I wandered around Kaedi trying to find the water bureau (I KNEW I’d seen it somewhere) until an old Moor man gave me directions.

I found the bureau and let myself in the gate. A man and a woman sat in the shade under a thatched hanger in the yard. We greeted, greeted, greeted and I told them I was looking for Abdoul Ba. “Ah, he was just here!” said the man, “Hey beautiful, are you married?” Eventually, I ended up leaving a message with the guy to tell Abdoul to tell Oumou that I was coming.

At first glance, there seems to be an utter lack of communication infrastructure in this part of the world. Sure there are cell phones, but coverage is spotty and often unreliable. The postal system consists of taxi drivers and travelling friends, who carry letters to whatever town they’re going. Internet is nonexistant outside of regional capitals. But there’s this vast informal social network based on friends and family and village. I swear I’ve never lost a letter sent by taxi brousse and when I need to get a message to Oumou in Backwoods, Mauritania, I just have to ask around til I find the guy who knows her.

To complete the story, just now as I was typing this, some other trainers came in to tell me that there was a guy from the water company here to talk to me about my bill. It was of course Abdoul and he was delighted that I’d tried to track him down. It turns out there’s a wedding this weekend in the village and he’s going down for it! So I’ll travel with him, hang out at a Pulaar wedding, and spend the night with Oumou’s family.

I think I’m only starting to develop a tiny inkling of how much I’m going to miss this life.