Hi everyone,
Again, it’s been a while! If you’ve been reading, you know by now that I don’t have regular internet access, but truthfully, that’s not the only reason I don’t update. I haven’t had the best work progress, projects have fallen apart, and I’ve been discouraged – those are aspects of life here that I prefer not to share with people back home. That said, I’ll try to give an update on what’s been happening here since I last wrote.
The biggest project I’d been working on since last year was a home latrine construction. I had put together an ad hoc group of families in the village without any home latrine, since there are no active associations here to partner with. There were a lot of headaches getting people to cooperate, though. First –someone from the community should have been assisting with every step – funding, grant writing, budgeting, etc. However, since none of the women are literate, I was doing this all myself. More importantly, there needs to be a 25% community contribution, and getting that was like pulling teeth. I suggested that they contribute the labor as a group, and help one another with the construction, which was met with a resounding, “each will work for his own house”. Which, ultimately, made the project un-fundable. In the end, I wrote the grant, assembled the group, and defined all the terms, and ordered them to help one another. I wasn’t thrilled about how it happened, but at least we’d get it done. Unfortunately, by the time we got all this worked out in February, it was too late to apply for a grant. I’d finish my service before the project was completed. We were refused funding.
The worst repercussion of that failure, though, was that now people from the community are blaming me for making promises and not following through. Even though 1) no one proposed the idea until November (and in fact told me in 2008 that it was unnecessary when I brought it up), and 2) argued and bickered for over a month about who had to do what, delaying signing of agreements. I had explained that it was late, and we might not be able to do it at that point, but I guess that message didn’t get across.
On a more positive note, my other project – the midwife training – is fully funded and scheduled to happen two weeks from now. THANK YOU to everyone who donated online to make this possible! For this project, my counterpart (the nurse) was involved from day one. I’m working with another volunteer in the region, so the entire burden of planning is not entirely on my shoulders. And more importantly, it was designed NOT just to bring outside materials or funding into the community, but to develop local resources for the future.
Here’s a rundown. The infant and maternal mortality rate in my village is very high. There are a lot of factors at work here, from nutrition to unsanitary birthing conditions. Most of these could be remedied by good health advice for pregnant women, checkups at the local free clinic, and birthing in hospitals, which is now also free. Women, however, trust tradition – the midwives and home birthing. So it seems that modern and traditional medicines are at odds. With our project, we train midwives on how to advise traditional midwives on checkups, nutrition, clinic birthing, family planning, and STDs. We try to expand their roles from merely being present at a birth, to being a local health resource and a liaison between the community and the clinic. The clinic nurse is not a local – he or she may speak a different dialect and be from another part of the country. Usually, he or she will stay only 2 years then transfer to a better location in a city. So it is crucial to have a group of women with a vested interest in women’s health who are a permanent part of the community.
Reflecting on these failures and successes with my projects has taught me a few things. First and foremost, partnerships with capable and influential community members are the key. Not only should sustainable development happen in cooperation with a community partner, but that partner needs to actually be ABLE to fill that role. I made the mistake of choosing to work with a brand new women’s association. I thought this was a good idea to help them build confidence and learn how to conduct projects. However, I overestimated their abilities. They need more basic training before they can attempt projects, even with help. They need literacy and leadership skills. The people I chose to work with weren’t able to do what I needed them to do; I chose them out of idealism, not capability.
The other important thing I’ve learned is that capacity building projects are far better than infrastructure building projects in terms of development. The latter is definitely more gratifying – to be able to see the fruit of your labor in a physical structure has to feel great, whereas teaching people to teach others is abstract and immeasurable. But there are a host of problems with infrastructure, too. For one, corruption. Once money is involved in a poor town, everyone is trying to get their slice of the pie. For another, it increases dependence on outside sources. It undermines local groups who should be putting resources back into the community. Worse, there seems to be a mentality of “we are poor, therefore we deserve your help”. It actually discourages people from trying to do community development themselves.
So, with those lessons learned and only a few months to go, I’m redirecting all my energy away from projects and am going to focus entirely on teaching. I don’t have a forum to do this in my village – I am still awaiting approval from the Ministry to work in the schools (from last YEAR), and when I’ve tried to do lessons in my home, no one comes. So, I’m moving into a nearby town to hopefully teach women’s exercise classes and tooth brushing to kids at community centers. I’ll also be participating in a week-long English camp at the end of this month, and helping organize a regional health bike for April. Then in May – I’m done!
Enough about work! Most of you probably don’t know, but Morocco has had some terrible weather lately. The winds were so bad one night that a volunteer friend of mine had his windows of his house blown out! Down here in the south, there is still flooding. Bridges connecting isolated communities to the main road have been washed out or are still under water. Fortunately, our bridge is still in tact, but I have no idea how people from those other villages have been getting food or supplies for the last two weeks.
That’s the main news from here – I’ll try to update again later to let you know how the midwife training, classes, bike trek and camp all turn out! Thanks to everyone for your support – with letters, phone calls, words of encouragement, donations to my project, or just caring enough to read this whole long post – love to you all.
Peace
Mel
Monday, March 8, 2010
Thursday, November 19, 2009
In Loving Memory
On November 16th the world lost a Peace Corps Volunteer and a wonderful person. So-Youn Kim left us unexpectedly. I'm never very good with words when it comes to these things, but I felt I owe it to her to let the world know how special she was. She was beautiful, articulate and opinionated, so it seems only right to leave you with some words of hers about the experiences we've shared here.
“I believe in the power of the day to day, the simple yet otherwise impossible conversations, the truths that I speak and live that affect the people around me as I learn from the truths around me in turn.”
Rest in peace, friend. You are loved and missed dearly.
“I believe in the power of the day to day, the simple yet otherwise impossible conversations, the truths that I speak and live that affect the people around me as I learn from the truths around me in turn.”
Rest in peace, friend. You are loved and missed dearly.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Ramadan and Projects
It's Ramadan in the Muslim world, and this has two upshots for me and my work: 1) we are fasting, meaning no water or food from sunrise to sunset, and 2) I have absolutely nothing to do! It recently cooled off a bit, but until last week it was over 110 degrees throughout the day, so it was too dangerous to walk around outside without water. Also, my counterpart, the nurse, left town to be with her family for the holiday - and closed the clinic for the entire month. This leaves me at home with my host family. I've been breaking fast with them every night and spending time with my friend Khadija doing little crafts and baking.
The fast-breaking meal, "lfthur", happens right after sunset, following the call to prayer. In wealthier households, this involves a delicious spread of all kinds of goodies - harira (a moroccan vegetable soup), boiled eggs, shebekia (a sweet pastry), cookies, cake, coffee, juice, etc. My family is considerably poorer, so it's a much simpler affair: a few fresh dates each, a small glass of sweet, milky coffee, a bowl of askeef (a simple flour-based soup), and whole wheat flatbread cooked over a fire. I absolutely love it.
I realized recently that I really do consider my host family to be my family. We walk into each others' houses without knocking. When I eat with them, they expect me to help with the food preparation and cleaning up. We share food we prepare. Sometimes, they drive me absolutely insane, and sometimes, I think I couldn't live without them. I call them "auntie", "sister", "mama". There is a upside and downside to my relationship with them. On the one hand, it has held me back from meeting other people in town. On the other hand, I have a place and people that I call home, and it is what has kept me here with things got difficult.
Work progress, as I mentioned, has halted for the time being, but I have some projects in the works for after Ramadan. These are:
- a health class for women. I've chosen 9 women to attend weekly classes on basic hygiene and first aid, and at the end of the course I'll give certificates and encourage the women to use their knowledge to educate their communities.
- lessons at the school with a local teacher. I'm going to sing songs and do demonstrations with the little ones!
- Traditional Midwife training. 12 local traditional midwives will attend a training session by nurses on safe birthing practices, family planning, AIDS, warning signs during pregnancy and nutrition.
- Community garden. I'm talking to the women's association about planting medicinal herbs. Currently, the remedies used for skin problems and common colds do far more harm than good. I'm hoping to plant aloe vera and chamomile, and whatever else will grow in our desert that has medicinal applications.
If you've been following my posts since early this year, you'll know that my women's association has been in the works for almost 9 months now - and we are FINALLY a legal entity! Honestly, there were times along the way I was sure it was never going to happen. The women have no organizational experience, no one is literate, and none of them have ever seen a functioning association. Not to mention, this is NOT my area of expertise and my health training covered nothing of the sort, so I was just as lost! But after 9 months of long meetings, trial and error, and perseverence - the Women's Association for Hope and Development is a reality. I am so proud of them!
The fast-breaking meal, "lfthur", happens right after sunset, following the call to prayer. In wealthier households, this involves a delicious spread of all kinds of goodies - harira (a moroccan vegetable soup), boiled eggs, shebekia (a sweet pastry), cookies, cake, coffee, juice, etc. My family is considerably poorer, so it's a much simpler affair: a few fresh dates each, a small glass of sweet, milky coffee, a bowl of askeef (a simple flour-based soup), and whole wheat flatbread cooked over a fire. I absolutely love it.
I realized recently that I really do consider my host family to be my family. We walk into each others' houses without knocking. When I eat with them, they expect me to help with the food preparation and cleaning up. We share food we prepare. Sometimes, they drive me absolutely insane, and sometimes, I think I couldn't live without them. I call them "auntie", "sister", "mama". There is a upside and downside to my relationship with them. On the one hand, it has held me back from meeting other people in town. On the other hand, I have a place and people that I call home, and it is what has kept me here with things got difficult.
Work progress, as I mentioned, has halted for the time being, but I have some projects in the works for after Ramadan. These are:
- a health class for women. I've chosen 9 women to attend weekly classes on basic hygiene and first aid, and at the end of the course I'll give certificates and encourage the women to use their knowledge to educate their communities.
- lessons at the school with a local teacher. I'm going to sing songs and do demonstrations with the little ones!
- Traditional Midwife training. 12 local traditional midwives will attend a training session by nurses on safe birthing practices, family planning, AIDS, warning signs during pregnancy and nutrition.
- Community garden. I'm talking to the women's association about planting medicinal herbs. Currently, the remedies used for skin problems and common colds do far more harm than good. I'm hoping to plant aloe vera and chamomile, and whatever else will grow in our desert that has medicinal applications.
If you've been following my posts since early this year, you'll know that my women's association has been in the works for almost 9 months now - and we are FINALLY a legal entity! Honestly, there were times along the way I was sure it was never going to happen. The women have no organizational experience, no one is literate, and none of them have ever seen a functioning association. Not to mention, this is NOT my area of expertise and my health training covered nothing of the sort, so I was just as lost! But after 9 months of long meetings, trial and error, and perseverence - the Women's Association for Hope and Development is a reality. I am so proud of them!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
2nd Year...
The latest news is that I am now officially a second year volunteer. My one-month mark just passed and was duly celebrated with mid-service medical exams, where I discovered I've been carrying around an amoebic parasite. It's some form of dysentary, so I've named him Larry. Fortunately it's been asymptomatic so I've felt perfectly fine.
Being a second-year also means that the new group of volunteers has arrived. It's been interesting to meet them, largely because it's so evident how far we've come in a year. Not just in terms of being physically adjusted and having acquired more language, but having a realistic perspective on what it means to be a PCV. Let me expand on that one. Peace Corps Training does NOT prepare you for what you are about to do. You get a little language and cultural training, some ideas of where to start, but largely, you figure this out on your own. You never really know what you're getting yourself into until you're there. That also means you don't know how you will react to challenges. It can be a little frustrating to talk to brand new kids who are so naively confident in what they will be able to accomplish in a year. You don't want to dampen their enthusiasm and confidence, which can go a long way here, but at the same time, you don't want to feed it, knowing they'll only be disappointed.
I have now been here for a year, and in a physical sense, I have nothing at all to show for it. No projects, classes, or physical structures. And I'm not alone in this. Some people get disillusioned with it, or just plain bored, and go home. We all have these ideas when we begin that we will have busy and fulfilling lives, and sometimes, that isn't the case. You spend an entire year trying to get a meeting with the right public official who won't take you seriously because your French is less than perfect. You spend 6 months trying to hire a tutor and then he comes to your lessons high with a prostitute, and then makes a pass at you. You try to meet with every local official you can, and without a translator and with minimal language training, communicate your purpose, and then end up being rejected. You find a potential project and a potential work partner, and they offend the wrong person and it blows up in your face. And then you just keep trying. You end up spending long days alone in your house when you just can't deal with hearing "You don't speak Tashelheet! You don't know anything!" one more time. And yet, you keep trying.
This is why I can't lay any blame on those who have gone home. It's frustrating to feel so useless, to have nothing positive to contribute on a daily basis, when you've sacrificed two years of your life, your money, your comfort, your family and friends in return for something that you think will be richly rewarding but turns out to be trying in every way. This is also why a part of me wants to punch in the face any new volunteer I meet who asks me "what projects have you done so far?" and I have to respond none, I'm still trying to find something. Then they give one another smug looks as if to say "that will never be ME." They'll learn soon enough, I suppose.
Before you start thinking that I'm jaded from being here, let me say that I'm really not. If I was, I'd have thrown in the towel already. In spite of my last year here, I still have hope that I'll be able to find someone to work with and get something done. I've made a few new contacts and had a few good meetings that hopefully will lead to a school health club in my village in the coming school year, a formalized women's association with plans to sell handicraft, and maternal health classes. If I have learned anything though, it's not to count my chickens before they hatch, so I'm going to keep pushing on those and if they don't work, I'll keep looking for something else. Thanks again for all the continuing support from everyone back home... I'll keep you all updated!
Being a second-year also means that the new group of volunteers has arrived. It's been interesting to meet them, largely because it's so evident how far we've come in a year. Not just in terms of being physically adjusted and having acquired more language, but having a realistic perspective on what it means to be a PCV. Let me expand on that one. Peace Corps Training does NOT prepare you for what you are about to do. You get a little language and cultural training, some ideas of where to start, but largely, you figure this out on your own. You never really know what you're getting yourself into until you're there. That also means you don't know how you will react to challenges. It can be a little frustrating to talk to brand new kids who are so naively confident in what they will be able to accomplish in a year. You don't want to dampen their enthusiasm and confidence, which can go a long way here, but at the same time, you don't want to feed it, knowing they'll only be disappointed.
I have now been here for a year, and in a physical sense, I have nothing at all to show for it. No projects, classes, or physical structures. And I'm not alone in this. Some people get disillusioned with it, or just plain bored, and go home. We all have these ideas when we begin that we will have busy and fulfilling lives, and sometimes, that isn't the case. You spend an entire year trying to get a meeting with the right public official who won't take you seriously because your French is less than perfect. You spend 6 months trying to hire a tutor and then he comes to your lessons high with a prostitute, and then makes a pass at you. You try to meet with every local official you can, and without a translator and with minimal language training, communicate your purpose, and then end up being rejected. You find a potential project and a potential work partner, and they offend the wrong person and it blows up in your face. And then you just keep trying. You end up spending long days alone in your house when you just can't deal with hearing "You don't speak Tashelheet! You don't know anything!" one more time. And yet, you keep trying.
This is why I can't lay any blame on those who have gone home. It's frustrating to feel so useless, to have nothing positive to contribute on a daily basis, when you've sacrificed two years of your life, your money, your comfort, your family and friends in return for something that you think will be richly rewarding but turns out to be trying in every way. This is also why a part of me wants to punch in the face any new volunteer I meet who asks me "what projects have you done so far?" and I have to respond none, I'm still trying to find something. Then they give one another smug looks as if to say "that will never be ME." They'll learn soon enough, I suppose.
Before you start thinking that I'm jaded from being here, let me say that I'm really not. If I was, I'd have thrown in the towel already. In spite of my last year here, I still have hope that I'll be able to find someone to work with and get something done. I've made a few new contacts and had a few good meetings that hopefully will lead to a school health club in my village in the coming school year, a formalized women's association with plans to sell handicraft, and maternal health classes. If I have learned anything though, it's not to count my chickens before they hatch, so I'm going to keep pushing on those and if they don't work, I'll keep looking for something else. Thanks again for all the continuing support from everyone back home... I'll keep you all updated!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A Day in the Life
Whoa - two in one day! Jackpot! :-) I've been meaning to do a post like this for a while now, and since my friend Debra recently came to visit, I now have the necessary photos to show you what an average day in my life is like. These weren't actually all taken on the same day, but you get the idea... 
I make breakfast in my small but awesome kitchen...
I go to the city (about two hours by taxi) to get groceries for the week...
The end!
I talk to my host aunt about our plans for the Women's Association...
I walk through the alleyways of the crumbling old medina to get to the clinic, school, or wherever else I might be going since women aren't permitted on the main road...
In the evening, I go outside and socialize with the women and play with little Fatima...
And then I unwind with my cat, Salvador.
The end!Prostitutes... and Geography
Sorry about the delay again, friends. I've found I really only update when 1) Something interesting happens and I happen to be near internet in the next day or so before I forget about it, or 2) I get emails from family haranguing me for updates. Since the former doesn't happen frequently, STAY ON MY CASE!!
My story for the day is about a prostitute I met. In my experience, I've always like the prostitutes I've come across here. In this culture, moral and respectable women tend to be more subdued in public, passive, and subordinate to men - a position I often find frustrating. One "working woman", in a taxi with us, decided the driver was taking FAR too long for his cigarette break (he really was - it was almost midnight and he had stopped on the road for 30 minutes), and she leaned on the horn and refused to stop until he got his butt back in the driver's seat. I wanted to hug her. I can't imagine a conservative woman EVER doing something that bold.
The other woman I met was much closer to home. In the interest of protecting those involved, I will just say that she was entertaining a male acquaintance of mine in the city when I went to visit him for business reasons. It turns out she is from a village near mine, and helped me learn a few words in the local dialect. She was outgoing, confident, and kind of sassy. We exchanged polite invitations to one another's home for tea. (Normally, people say this as a gesture, but have no intention of actually travelling to another town for tea. I didn't, anyway.) Well, she did. While I was sick and confined to bed this past week, she came to my house. I was too ill to get up so I asked my family to let her know that I was in bed and couldn't meet her. The next day, the women of my house sat me down and explained to me as though I was a small child, "Malika, that woman is bad. You should not let her in your home. It is good you were sick, because she does very bad things." I asked for clarification, and after an awkward pause, they explained, "She speaks to many men in public."
I knew they were telling me in a delicate way that she was a prostitute. This was later verified privately - apparently one of my male neighbors "knows her", and she has a few illegitimate children. But the fact that she publicly spoke to men was supposed to be indicitive of all this. It made me very aware of how I personally interact with people. I get a little more leniency being foreign, but if I were to speak to men outside my family within my village, I would probably have the same reputation. I am now worried about the couple of times I have had single men stay over at my home. Mostly these were volunteers, and it was preceeded with long talks to my neighbors, landlord, and family about how in America, men and women interact differently, and it is not shameful, he is like my brother, etc. etc. But seeing their reaction to this woman, I do wonder.
The other thing I noticed is that they didn't draw a distinction between being a sex worker and being a "bad person". I offered a mild defense for the woman, trying to walk the line between being fair and honest and not damaging my reputation in the village. It's a line I walk every day. I said that I did not know her work, that it does not matter to me, and I like her because she was kind to me and helped me learn the language. My family's response was: "Well, it's okay, it's not your fault because you didn't know. But NEVER walk down a road with her alone because she will hurt you and steal your money." Prostitute, thug, thief, bad woman - it was all the same to them.
In hindsight, I AM glad I was so sick that day. I didn't have to publicly rebuke a woman whom I liked personally, and who is working the only way she is able, without education, to support her children. But I also didn't have to risk my reputation and my good standing with my neighbors. Honestly, I am not sure how I would have handled that if I hadn't been able to get out of it.
More importantly to me as a health worker, prostitution is the cause of the spread of STD's throughout Morocco. Because it is an industry that is kept in the dark, few efforts have been made to educate women about the importance of protection. A recent study showed that MOST prostitutes did not know the proper use of a condom. Another volunteer recounted a story in which her local doctor found that a woman had contracted an STD, and the doctor was not going to tell her because it would indicate that her husband had been unfaithful. It's an area where health education is really needed, but as you can see now, would be difficult for me to achieve while maintaining a good reputation to carry me through my other work.
On a complete side note, as I was sitting here typing this, a young woman approached me with an email address wanting to know if I spoke English. Her English was minimal and my Arabic is non-existent, so I never did figure out exactly what she wanted from me. Apparently she has an online boyfriend in Holland and wanted my English skills to write something (she said the words "marriage", "email", "chat", and "write" - your guess is as good as mine). As it turned out, she thought I KNEW this man. I was confused. I explained that I am not a tourist, I am not traveling with him, and I have never been to Holland. She said, "but you are American, and Holland is in America." Hmmmm. When I convinced her that Holland and America were different countries VERY VERY far apart, she got disappointed and left. This was a fairly well educated woman in her 20's - she had at least been through high school since she knew French, Arabic and a little English and had computer skills. Mind-blowing. I don't think geography is taught in schools here at all. Other interesting geographical information I have been told include: People in America speak French because it is next to France, Japan is also next to America and that is why they speak French too, America is in Europe, and Europe is in America. I'd love to do a geography education project with some local kids... if I can ever get the local school headmaster to give me the time of day. But that is another story, and this post is long enough.
Much love!
My story for the day is about a prostitute I met. In my experience, I've always like the prostitutes I've come across here. In this culture, moral and respectable women tend to be more subdued in public, passive, and subordinate to men - a position I often find frustrating. One "working woman", in a taxi with us, decided the driver was taking FAR too long for his cigarette break (he really was - it was almost midnight and he had stopped on the road for 30 minutes), and she leaned on the horn and refused to stop until he got his butt back in the driver's seat. I wanted to hug her. I can't imagine a conservative woman EVER doing something that bold.
The other woman I met was much closer to home. In the interest of protecting those involved, I will just say that she was entertaining a male acquaintance of mine in the city when I went to visit him for business reasons. It turns out she is from a village near mine, and helped me learn a few words in the local dialect. She was outgoing, confident, and kind of sassy. We exchanged polite invitations to one another's home for tea. (Normally, people say this as a gesture, but have no intention of actually travelling to another town for tea. I didn't, anyway.) Well, she did. While I was sick and confined to bed this past week, she came to my house. I was too ill to get up so I asked my family to let her know that I was in bed and couldn't meet her. The next day, the women of my house sat me down and explained to me as though I was a small child, "Malika, that woman is bad. You should not let her in your home. It is good you were sick, because she does very bad things." I asked for clarification, and after an awkward pause, they explained, "She speaks to many men in public."
I knew they were telling me in a delicate way that she was a prostitute. This was later verified privately - apparently one of my male neighbors "knows her", and she has a few illegitimate children. But the fact that she publicly spoke to men was supposed to be indicitive of all this. It made me very aware of how I personally interact with people. I get a little more leniency being foreign, but if I were to speak to men outside my family within my village, I would probably have the same reputation. I am now worried about the couple of times I have had single men stay over at my home. Mostly these were volunteers, and it was preceeded with long talks to my neighbors, landlord, and family about how in America, men and women interact differently, and it is not shameful, he is like my brother, etc. etc. But seeing their reaction to this woman, I do wonder.
The other thing I noticed is that they didn't draw a distinction between being a sex worker and being a "bad person". I offered a mild defense for the woman, trying to walk the line between being fair and honest and not damaging my reputation in the village. It's a line I walk every day. I said that I did not know her work, that it does not matter to me, and I like her because she was kind to me and helped me learn the language. My family's response was: "Well, it's okay, it's not your fault because you didn't know. But NEVER walk down a road with her alone because she will hurt you and steal your money." Prostitute, thug, thief, bad woman - it was all the same to them.
In hindsight, I AM glad I was so sick that day. I didn't have to publicly rebuke a woman whom I liked personally, and who is working the only way she is able, without education, to support her children. But I also didn't have to risk my reputation and my good standing with my neighbors. Honestly, I am not sure how I would have handled that if I hadn't been able to get out of it.
More importantly to me as a health worker, prostitution is the cause of the spread of STD's throughout Morocco. Because it is an industry that is kept in the dark, few efforts have been made to educate women about the importance of protection. A recent study showed that MOST prostitutes did not know the proper use of a condom. Another volunteer recounted a story in which her local doctor found that a woman had contracted an STD, and the doctor was not going to tell her because it would indicate that her husband had been unfaithful. It's an area where health education is really needed, but as you can see now, would be difficult for me to achieve while maintaining a good reputation to carry me through my other work.
On a complete side note, as I was sitting here typing this, a young woman approached me with an email address wanting to know if I spoke English. Her English was minimal and my Arabic is non-existent, so I never did figure out exactly what she wanted from me. Apparently she has an online boyfriend in Holland and wanted my English skills to write something (she said the words "marriage", "email", "chat", and "write" - your guess is as good as mine). As it turned out, she thought I KNEW this man. I was confused. I explained that I am not a tourist, I am not traveling with him, and I have never been to Holland. She said, "but you are American, and Holland is in America." Hmmmm. When I convinced her that Holland and America were different countries VERY VERY far apart, she got disappointed and left. This was a fairly well educated woman in her 20's - she had at least been through high school since she knew French, Arabic and a little English and had computer skills. Mind-blowing. I don't think geography is taught in schools here at all. Other interesting geographical information I have been told include: People in America speak French because it is next to France, Japan is also next to America and that is why they speak French too, America is in Europe, and Europe is in America. I'd love to do a geography education project with some local kids... if I can ever get the local school headmaster to give me the time of day. But that is another story, and this post is long enough.
Much love!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Eidmukwanzachristmukah
Hi family, friends and assorted blogstalkers! Hard to believe it's been since August that I updated this thing. Part of it is that I've been really busy and haven't had the time for a proper update, and part of it is that I have not been busy with work, which is what I assume you all want to hear about. In fact, I have been busy with anything but.
Seeing as it is Christmas Eve, happy holidays everyone! Truthfully I would have forgotten it if other volunteers hadn't reminded me. My cues are usually that obnoxious music on the radio, scary people on the road and scary people at the mall. This year I have to suffer none of those things. Instead, I celebrated the Eid Kabeer with my host family. It is the biggest holiday in the Muslim world and commemorates Ibrahim's sacrafice of his son Isaac. As you might guess, each family slaughters a sheep. (NB - I had no part in this and refused to watch.) 40 people in my extended family hiked outside the village to a small oasis with our sheep, vegetables, and flour and we spent the entire day baking bread and cooking duez under the palm trees.
Some volunteers will be getting together for Christmas this year, but I'll be home in my site. A year ago I would have thought Christmas alone would be a depressing affair, but I'm looking forward to the quiet and solitude. My friend, a volunteer, came over and we decorated my house for Christmas with some ribbon and origami decorations we made. I'm having guests over tomorrow night. I decided that since my host family shared their holiday with me, I'll share mine. My original plan was to cook up a traditional dinner, but since my host family doesn't really like food they aren't used to, we're just going with couscous instead, with apple pie for dessert.Thanksgiving, on the other hand, was a huge affair. A group of us gathered at a volunteer's house near Ouarzazate (about 4 hours away from me) and cooked up a storm. We had two turkeys, two chickens, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread, cranberry sauce, lemon meringue pie, pumpkin pie, brownies, banana bread, cookies... all made from scratch by PCVs. Our set up was pretty sweet, too:
In the last few months I've been lucky enough to have five friends come to visit and do some travelling around with them. I've made it up north to the ruins at Volubulis, west to Marrakesh and Essaouira several times, and Rabat and Azrou for work.
In sadder news, my cat Frieda died from drowning in the well. I adoped another kitten in Azrou during training and smuggled it into the hotel, where it proceeded to poop all over the room. Unfortunately that one was very sick and died before I could get to a vet. So now I have adopted another from a volunteer. His name is Salvador. This is him perched on top of my friend Kathy:
In sadder news, my cat Frieda died from drowning in the well. I adoped another kitten in Azrou during training and smuggled it into the hotel, where it proceeded to poop all over the room. Unfortunately that one was very sick and died before I could get to a vet. So now I have adopted another from a volunteer. His name is Salvador. This is him perched on top of my friend Kathy:
Beyond all that, I've been spending my days slowly learning Tashelheet, spending time with my host family, and planning for future projects. The biggest one on the plate is still the Women's Association, for which we have a big meeting coming up Sunday. Wish us luck!
Thanks also to friends and family who are writing and sending packages. Even if it's just an email, it means a lot to me. As I immerse myself fully in my world here, I need to stay connected to family and friends back home. Love to you all.
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