30.04.05 - 12:10

Mauritanian men are notorious for coming on to/flirting with/sexually harassing American women. Typical pick-up lines include: "Are you married?" "Will you teach me English?" "I want some magazines. Can I come by your house at 10pm to pick them up?" "I want to love an American woman. Mauritanian women are no good." "Let's drink some tea." and "I love you."

How to deal with the constant annoyance? With these handy lines: "Am I married? Yes. To two husbands. And they're both really big and strong." "You are ugly. Why would I ever be interested in you?" "No." "I don't talk about those subjects." "I hate Mauritanian men." "I'm sorry, I don't speak Hassaniya. Or French. Or English. I speak Chinese." "No." "May God shorten your life." "No, actually I'm a man, not a woman. Yes, I know I'm wearing a skirt, but this is what American men look like." "NO!!!!!!!!" " "(completely ignoring the man) or, if you're annoyed at the fellow American woman you're traveling with, "Actually, my friend over there is looking for a Mauritanian husband. Go talk to her."

Two days ago, I told a gendarme (police guy) trying to pick me up (even though I was with my father) that I was married to a Mauritanian. With a crafty look in his eye, said gendarme tried to catch me in my lie. "What is his name?" Mohammed. "What does he do?" He makes shoes. "WHAT?!? You married a shoemaker?!?" (Shoemakers are apparently in a caste much lower than mine.) Yes, a shoemaker. That's love for you. "Does he have white skin?" No. Yellow. "There is no such thing as yellow skin." Yes there is. My husband has it. "OK, so what color is his hair?" Purple.

At this point, the gendarme was confused. People here are not adept at deciphering sarcasm or decoding a dead-pan delivery. So he gave it a rest for a while, then started bothering me again. Finally, I said, "Hey! Do you not see that I'm with my father?" He backed off a bit at that. Too bad Dad won't be here to protect me all the time.

I am also often "married" to other Peace Corps volunteers. Handy, that. Especially in crowded situations, where men will rub against women, as though by accident. (But when you're the locus of 10 men, it is painfully obvious.)

Stupid men. That's why I avoid them. :)

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