The Call To Prayer, 5 times a day—This is one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. When I first found out I would be moving to Morocco, I wondered how I would react to the loud prayer calls. Well, I love them. They are also a great way to tell time. Most of my day is planned around them. And as most people know, I am a heavy sleeper so I don’t wake up during the early morning call.
Greetings—“Salaam, Labas, May T3nit, t3na”—A central part of Moroccan life is the greeting. It is not the normal “Hi, how are you doing?” passing greeting like in the United States.
Roosters Crowing—Unlike what you are led to believe in kindergarten, roosters do not crow early in the morning. I have only heard a few crow before I plan to wake up. But they will crow all other times of the day.
The sheep’s ‘baa’—My town is famous for its sheep. One reason is because the cold is hospitable to the sheep. The excessive cold allows makes them store more fat and lamb fat is a delicacy here. There are bzzaf amounts of sheep in my town and surrounding ones.
Berber music—This is constantly being played. I am not that big of a fan of it but it is starting to grow on me. It needs too because I hear it everywhere I go.
My Family’s laughter—My family laughs a lot; which is a very good thing. Hearing them laugh brings a smile to my face and I start to laugh with them. And I increasingly know what they are laughing at which is even better.
Ali’s Crying and Laughter—In my opinion, this child can do no wrong. When he cries, my heart aches. In the past month or so, he has grown sooo much. And he has started to laugh more :)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Life In My Moroccan Home
I have spent the last week or so settling into my house. My stuff is unpacked but I still have lots of things to do with it before I post pictures. Things are different now that I am in my own house. Yeah, I love the privacy it affords but I miss the constant activity of my family. And I say this even though I spend at least a couple hours a day with them.
I guess I am settling down into normal Moroccan life. As a foreigner though, things are a little different. I was in the hammam the other day. The hammam lady sent me up in a station that was already occupied but the person wasn’t there. So I started to bathe; just minding my own business until a large Moroccan woman came over and started yelling at me. I quickly found the hammam lady who helped me resolve the situation. For the rest of my time though, people just stared at me. Staring is normal but this was above and beyond normal. I couldn’t help but think that this is what it must be like for Larry Craig when he walks into a men’s restroom.
With this new privacy I have gained comes more loneliness. I am not lonely but with less family activities, I have time to catch up on news in the world. I wasn’t aware of how much I missed reading the New York Times, other various newspapers that I read while in college, and listening to news podcasts. I listen to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” and read The Economist religiously (Thanks Grandpa) but needed to branch out a little.
Setting up a house takes lots of trips to souk. Souk is great but tiresome. I was fortunate to inherit lots of things from my predecessor so I haven’t had to buy as much as others. Here in Morocco, few things have fixed prices. Even food can be bargained for. I am a child who grew up shopping at fixed-priced Target. Bargaining does not interest me in the least; I find it very exhausting.
I have previously mentioned that I have a different cultural experience every day. Here is one that left me laughing and I wanted to share it:
I was in the cibir the other day and ran into a teacher at the primary school here in my town. He used to teach Tamazight to PCVs several years ago so his English is pretty good. This was the first time I had met it and was enjoying talking to him. Conversation turned to the presidential elections. I had to inform him that I actually did not know a lot about what was going on because I haven’t been able to read newspapers or watch TV. He said that it was “moshi moshkil” (means no problem) but he wanted to hear my opinion on Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Surprisingly, I have been asked very few political questions. Even though my political views are not in the least bit neutral, I try to give that impression here in Morocco. I trip over my mouth enough when trying to talk in Tamazight; the last thing I need to do here is get involved in politics. When I was asked my opinion on these two candidates, I quickly turned the question around and asked why he was interested in only the Democratic side. To which he replied, “Well no one cares about the other side.” Cue my laughing.
I guess I am settling down into normal Moroccan life. As a foreigner though, things are a little different. I was in the hammam the other day. The hammam lady sent me up in a station that was already occupied but the person wasn’t there. So I started to bathe; just minding my own business until a large Moroccan woman came over and started yelling at me. I quickly found the hammam lady who helped me resolve the situation. For the rest of my time though, people just stared at me. Staring is normal but this was above and beyond normal. I couldn’t help but think that this is what it must be like for Larry Craig when he walks into a men’s restroom.
With this new privacy I have gained comes more loneliness. I am not lonely but with less family activities, I have time to catch up on news in the world. I wasn’t aware of how much I missed reading the New York Times, other various newspapers that I read while in college, and listening to news podcasts. I listen to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” and read The Economist religiously (Thanks Grandpa) but needed to branch out a little.
Setting up a house takes lots of trips to souk. Souk is great but tiresome. I was fortunate to inherit lots of things from my predecessor so I haven’t had to buy as much as others. Here in Morocco, few things have fixed prices. Even food can be bargained for. I am a child who grew up shopping at fixed-priced Target. Bargaining does not interest me in the least; I find it very exhausting.
I have previously mentioned that I have a different cultural experience every day. Here is one that left me laughing and I wanted to share it:
I was in the cibir the other day and ran into a teacher at the primary school here in my town. He used to teach Tamazight to PCVs several years ago so his English is pretty good. This was the first time I had met it and was enjoying talking to him. Conversation turned to the presidential elections. I had to inform him that I actually did not know a lot about what was going on because I haven’t been able to read newspapers or watch TV. He said that it was “moshi moshkil” (means no problem) but he wanted to hear my opinion on Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Surprisingly, I have been asked very few political questions. Even though my political views are not in the least bit neutral, I try to give that impression here in Morocco. I trip over my mouth enough when trying to talk in Tamazight; the last thing I need to do here is get involved in politics. When I was asked my opinion on these two candidates, I quickly turned the question around and asked why he was interested in only the Democratic side. To which he replied, “Well no one cares about the other side.” Cue my laughing.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Funeral Confidence?
Saturday was a big day for me…I moved into my house. This is usually one of the big moments of a volunteer’s service. For the past 5 months, I have been living with families and in a hotel. It is really exciting to finally be able to unpack my suitcases. A big part of my job is to integrate into the community. Living with my host family has done a lot to help me with this. My family is amazing; I am excited that I was able to stay in the family compound. As I was moving my stuff, I began to get a little panicky and nervous about being alone. I began to think that maybe I should spend another night with my family.
This past week, someone somehow related to my family died. It took a 30 minute conversation for me to understand who he was and how he was related. The funeral/wake was Saturday night. By the way, funerals are just another reason to entertain here. It was by far, the most interesting wake/funeral I have been too. And coming from a big Southern family, that is saying something. One of the people there was a member of my family that goes to high school in Azrou. We were talking about Timahdite and I told her that I was a little scared about staying the night in my house. She told me that I would be okay and to remember that family was right next door.
After talking with her, some of my confidence began to come back. Walking back to the house, there was a little spring in my step. I made it through the first night and the second and the third… In the interest of full disclosure though, I did shed a few tears when I told my family good night and returned for breakfast on Sunday morning.
While it seems a little odd to me to say that I found confidence at a funeral but then again, something odd/interesting happens to me everyday. This is life in Morocco…
This past week, someone somehow related to my family died. It took a 30 minute conversation for me to understand who he was and how he was related. The funeral/wake was Saturday night. By the way, funerals are just another reason to entertain here. It was by far, the most interesting wake/funeral I have been too. And coming from a big Southern family, that is saying something. One of the people there was a member of my family that goes to high school in Azrou. We were talking about Timahdite and I told her that I was a little scared about staying the night in my house. She told me that I would be okay and to remember that family was right next door.
After talking with her, some of my confidence began to come back. Walking back to the house, there was a little spring in my step. I made it through the first night and the second and the third… In the interest of full disclosure though, I did shed a few tears when I told my family good night and returned for breakfast on Sunday morning.
While it seems a little odd to me to say that I found confidence at a funeral but then again, something odd/interesting happens to me everyday. This is life in Morocco…
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Ignorance
I should start by saying that this entry was a hard one to write. I struggled to find the right words (which I may not have done) and I am afraid that it may sound culturally insensitive, which is not what I intended. At one point, I told myself to just forget it; people don’t need to know this. But then I talked with another volunteer who said the people who read this would be interested because this is what is going on in my life and could potentially have something to gain from my experiences. So here you go…
Last week was a difficult one for me. It started off all well and good by meeting Moroccan royalty (see previous post) but when it ended, I said “Lhamdullah, let’s not have a repeat performance of this.” While nothing happened to me personally, I was a bystander in two in-depth cultural experiences. It would be culturally insensitive for me to repost what happened but in both situations things happened that coming from a Western, shiwya feminist perspective makes me against them in principle. I haven’t been here long enough to develop a ‘Moroccan mindset,’ something more experienced volunteers tell me will come.
When these things happened, it made me curse the other cultural nuisances I don’t like:
the occasional rock (or snow) thrown by a bored little kid
constantly hearing ‘bonjour’ and ‘cava’ screamed at me by people who know that I do not speak French
the intense staring occupied occasionally with pointing and whispering; like that is not obvious
sure PDA may be illegal here but if you need to pee, just whip it out and go right wherever you want
I can’t say that this wasn’t expected. Peace Corps warned me that this would happen. They said there would be moments when I would hate it here. For me, this would be taking it too far; but there are some moments when I do not like it here. As long as the good moments outweigh the bad ones, I will be all right. I posted last week that other volunteers were having some bad moments and that I couldn’t empathize with them. Now I can a little bit (did I jinx myself?). But I have been reading blogs from other volunteers in my training group and everyone is experiencing things like this. The first 3 months in site are the hardest.
I know moments like these can happen anywhere; I had them growing up in Panama City and in Tuscaloosa during college. I took massive amounts of culture-related classes in school; but I don’t think anything could have accurately prepared me for the culture and life I am living here. I woke up on Monday with a positive attitude; eager to start the new week. Accomplishment #1 of the week; inshallah, there will be more to come.
In one of my first posts from Morocco, I mentioned that I “smile because I have no idea what is going on.” That was 4 months ago. Shiwya b shiwya, I learn what is going on and some things here make it hard to smile. With integration comes comprehension and understanding. For the sake of my job and for Peace Corps, I know that I NEED to know but it is hard not think that maybe I am better off not knowing. After all, isn’t the saying, “Ignorance is bliss?” It may be but it is also one of the reasons why I am here…
Last week was a difficult one for me. It started off all well and good by meeting Moroccan royalty (see previous post) but when it ended, I said “Lhamdullah, let’s not have a repeat performance of this.” While nothing happened to me personally, I was a bystander in two in-depth cultural experiences. It would be culturally insensitive for me to repost what happened but in both situations things happened that coming from a Western, shiwya feminist perspective makes me against them in principle. I haven’t been here long enough to develop a ‘Moroccan mindset,’ something more experienced volunteers tell me will come.
When these things happened, it made me curse the other cultural nuisances I don’t like:
the occasional rock (or snow) thrown by a bored little kid
constantly hearing ‘bonjour’ and ‘cava’ screamed at me by people who know that I do not speak French
the intense staring occupied occasionally with pointing and whispering; like that is not obvious
sure PDA may be illegal here but if you need to pee, just whip it out and go right wherever you want
I can’t say that this wasn’t expected. Peace Corps warned me that this would happen. They said there would be moments when I would hate it here. For me, this would be taking it too far; but there are some moments when I do not like it here. As long as the good moments outweigh the bad ones, I will be all right. I posted last week that other volunteers were having some bad moments and that I couldn’t empathize with them. Now I can a little bit (did I jinx myself?). But I have been reading blogs from other volunteers in my training group and everyone is experiencing things like this. The first 3 months in site are the hardest.
I know moments like these can happen anywhere; I had them growing up in Panama City and in Tuscaloosa during college. I took massive amounts of culture-related classes in school; but I don’t think anything could have accurately prepared me for the culture and life I am living here. I woke up on Monday with a positive attitude; eager to start the new week. Accomplishment #1 of the week; inshallah, there will be more to come.
In one of my first posts from Morocco, I mentioned that I “smile because I have no idea what is going on.” That was 4 months ago. Shiwya b shiwya, I learn what is going on and some things here make it hard to smile. With integration comes comprehension and understanding. For the sake of my job and for Peace Corps, I know that I NEED to know but it is hard not think that maybe I am better off not knowing. After all, isn’t the saying, “Ignorance is bliss?” It may be but it is also one of the reasons why I am here…
Thursday, January 17, 2008
I Am Never Washing My Hand Again...
Monday start out like all my other Mondays. I got up early, drank a little bit of coffee, and hurried to catch a taxi to Azrou. By the end of the day, it was anything but ordinary. What made it unordinary? Meeting one of the princesses of Morocco, that is what.
I was in the artisana, where my ministry delegate is, along with another SBD volunteer. I had noticed that there were a bunch of people in camo outfits with some mean-looking dogs. I just assumed that they were military. The fact that the group included women should have struck me as odd because I have never seen a woman in military uniform here. Well, it turned out not to be military but a hunting expedition(there is a lot of wild boar in this area) and one of the people involved was Princess Layla Amina, the aunt of the king Mohammed VI.
My boss introduced me to her and we got to have a quick conversation. She knew I was a Peace Corp volunteer and asked me questions about my work, my hometown in the States, and what I liked about Morocco. We even exchanged a few words of Tam, which is really exciting!
It was defintely a surreal experience...
I was in the artisana, where my ministry delegate is, along with another SBD volunteer. I had noticed that there were a bunch of people in camo outfits with some mean-looking dogs. I just assumed that they were military. The fact that the group included women should have struck me as odd because I have never seen a woman in military uniform here. Well, it turned out not to be military but a hunting expedition(there is a lot of wild boar in this area) and one of the people involved was Princess Layla Amina, the aunt of the king Mohammed VI.
My boss introduced me to her and we got to have a quick conversation. She knew I was a Peace Corp volunteer and asked me questions about my work, my hometown in the States, and what I liked about Morocco. We even exchanged a few words of Tam, which is really exciting!
It was defintely a surreal experience...
Monday, January 14, 2008
Small Town Gal
First order of business…Thank you everyone for the great care packages! They were seriously amazing.
I have just returned from a long weekend in Meknes. Because Thursday and Friday were religious holidays here, I got the opportunity to travel more than on a normal weekend. So me and 2 other volunteers from my training group traveled to Meknes to see more of Morocco. We had a great time and enjoyed catching up with each other. It was nice to eat McDonalds (hey, you take what you can get), shop at Marjane, and take a hot shower in a TUB. But I can’t see myself having a Western experience like that again anytime soon. As we walked around the big city, pretty much all I could think about was how I didn’t seem to fit in here. I was like, “Let me just return to my little village.” And when I returned to my town, SiMo saw me walking up to the house and ran to meet me. He gave me a big hug and escorted me to the house :)
There was a language issue as well. The language I speak is Tamazight and no one I met in Meknes spoke it. They would get this disgusted look on their face like “why do you speak ShlHa (the Arabic word for the Berber languages)”. I was able to communicate fairly well with English and my shiwa Arabic so there wasn’t too much of a language barrier. I have always kind of known though that I am not a big city girl but rather a small town gal.
I have been told by a lot of people back home that they are amazed at how much I have changed. But the thing is, I don’t really feel like I have changed. The best way I can describe it is that yes, my life has changed because now I pee in a glorified hole, shower once a week at best, and eat with my hands. But I have not changed; I am still the same person. My life just has this another dimension to it. In my 22 years, I have many dimensions to my life from Panama City to Tuscaloosa to various traveling experience and now to Morocco and each one just enhances my life.
The two volunteers I traveled with to Meknes are not having the same experience I am having here. I know there is that well-known saying that says no two experiences are alike. While I agree with it, I hoped my friends would be enjoying Morocco and getting the same out of this amazing country as I am. And they are not. Their tone was more pessimistic than optimistic. Hearing them talk made me a little depressed. I want to be able to empathize with them because volunteers are each others support network in country but I cannot. But I realize that I can only listen and hope things start to turn around for them. Inshallah, they will.
Most Memorable Quote from Meknes:
(while eating at McDonalds)
Me: Do yall feel a little out of place here?
(as a stream of sophisticated people dressed to the nines walk by)
Other PCV: Well yeah, we are dressed like homeless people.
My Arabic name ‘Ilham’ means inspiration. Between that and the beautiful scenery that surrounds me, this place inspires me. I have been writing a lot and have lots of thoughts I want to share but until I find the proper wording to express them, they will stay with me on paper. Eventually, they will end up here for yall to see.
Until then…
I have just returned from a long weekend in Meknes. Because Thursday and Friday were religious holidays here, I got the opportunity to travel more than on a normal weekend. So me and 2 other volunteers from my training group traveled to Meknes to see more of Morocco. We had a great time and enjoyed catching up with each other. It was nice to eat McDonalds (hey, you take what you can get), shop at Marjane, and take a hot shower in a TUB. But I can’t see myself having a Western experience like that again anytime soon. As we walked around the big city, pretty much all I could think about was how I didn’t seem to fit in here. I was like, “Let me just return to my little village.” And when I returned to my town, SiMo saw me walking up to the house and ran to meet me. He gave me a big hug and escorted me to the house :)
There was a language issue as well. The language I speak is Tamazight and no one I met in Meknes spoke it. They would get this disgusted look on their face like “why do you speak ShlHa (the Arabic word for the Berber languages)”. I was able to communicate fairly well with English and my shiwa Arabic so there wasn’t too much of a language barrier. I have always kind of known though that I am not a big city girl but rather a small town gal.
I have been told by a lot of people back home that they are amazed at how much I have changed. But the thing is, I don’t really feel like I have changed. The best way I can describe it is that yes, my life has changed because now I pee in a glorified hole, shower once a week at best, and eat with my hands. But I have not changed; I am still the same person. My life just has this another dimension to it. In my 22 years, I have many dimensions to my life from Panama City to Tuscaloosa to various traveling experience and now to Morocco and each one just enhances my life.
The two volunteers I traveled with to Meknes are not having the same experience I am having here. I know there is that well-known saying that says no two experiences are alike. While I agree with it, I hoped my friends would be enjoying Morocco and getting the same out of this amazing country as I am. And they are not. Their tone was more pessimistic than optimistic. Hearing them talk made me a little depressed. I want to be able to empathize with them because volunteers are each others support network in country but I cannot. But I realize that I can only listen and hope things start to turn around for them. Inshallah, they will.
Most Memorable Quote from Meknes:
(while eating at McDonalds)
Me: Do yall feel a little out of place here?
(as a stream of sophisticated people dressed to the nines walk by)
Other PCV: Well yeah, we are dressed like homeless people.
My Arabic name ‘Ilham’ means inspiration. Between that and the beautiful scenery that surrounds me, this place inspires me. I have been writing a lot and have lots of thoughts I want to share but until I find the proper wording to express them, they will stay with me on paper. Eventually, they will end up here for yall to see.
Until then…
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Never Have I Ever...Had A Snow Day
Naturally growing up in Florida,hurricane days are built into school schedules. Snow days are not. My town in Morocco is a little different. People have been predicting snow for the last 2 weeks. Well it finally came; over 2 feet to be exact. It snowed for 22 straight hours. We may have lost electricity for 36 hours but I enjoyed every minute of the experience.
It started snowing Thursday afternoon and by Friday morning, at least a foot had fallen. Not everyone in my family was excited but me and SiMo (8 years old today…Happy Birthday!) were looking forward to playing in it. So SiMo came into my room at 9:30 yelling “Ilham, Nkr! Nkr!” (my Arabic name, Wake Up! Wake Up!) After patiently waiting for me to inject coffee into my system, SiMo showed me how to build a snowman (we made 2). And then we spent the rest of the enjoying the snow. It was still falling but we walked around town, visited with people, had a snowball fight, made snow angels, etc. I was experiencing something for the very first time and I wanted to soak it all in.
It is warming up outside and the snow has started to melt but I am loving it all. I love my family; I love my town; and I love Morocco.
And now for your viewing pleasure:
Ali indifferent to all this snow; Keeping with the metaphor of his and mine lives…I was way more excited about this new thing in our lives than he was. Then again, I am 22 and he is 5 months.
It is like the frozen tundra
Odd photo but I like it
One of the many times I fell/was pushed in the snow
Town’s Crown, showing that us Berbers support the King
My town is beautiful!
My family’s front door
SiMo with one of the snowmen. Notice the hat, Roll Tide. Probably the only snowman of its kind in Morocco
SiMo making a snow angel
Sunset with evergreen trees full of melting snow
Black and white of trees by the creek
Mosque in black and white
It started snowing Thursday afternoon and by Friday morning, at least a foot had fallen. Not everyone in my family was excited but me and SiMo (8 years old today…Happy Birthday!) were looking forward to playing in it. So SiMo came into my room at 9:30 yelling “Ilham, Nkr! Nkr!” (my Arabic name, Wake Up! Wake Up!) After patiently waiting for me to inject coffee into my system, SiMo showed me how to build a snowman (we made 2). And then we spent the rest of the enjoying the snow. It was still falling but we walked around town, visited with people, had a snowball fight, made snow angels, etc. I was experiencing something for the very first time and I wanted to soak it all in.
It is warming up outside and the snow has started to melt but I am loving it all. I love my family; I love my town; and I love Morocco.
And now for your viewing pleasure:
Ali indifferent to all this snow; Keeping with the metaphor of his and mine lives…I was way more excited about this new thing in our lives than he was. Then again, I am 22 and he is 5 months.
It is like the frozen tundra
Odd photo but I like it
One of the many times I fell/was pushed in the snow
Town’s Crown, showing that us Berbers support the King
My town is beautiful!
My family’s front door
SiMo with one of the snowmen. Notice the hat, Roll Tide. Probably the only snowman of its kind in Morocco
SiMo making a snow angel
Sunset with evergreen trees full of melting snow
Black and white of trees by the creek
Mosque in black and white
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