Change

The change that is taking place and will still for a long time be taking place in Morocco, must be gradual. The deep conservatism of the people—the spirit that kept the country closed for century after century to Europe—has not yet disappeared. It is, except in the case of the more remote tribes, less an open opposition to reform than an unceasing disinclination to any alteration in their status. In many ways it is better it should be so—old bottles cannot stand too much wine—and little by little the Moor and the tribesman are imbibing the new state of things without appreciating, or at least without fully realizing the great change that is already coming about.
-Walter Harris, Morocco That Was 1890s

Let’s take two steps forward. Woah, that’s too far. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. How about taking a step backward?

This seems to be the attitude of the locals.

Something big happens. A potential buyer is found; a building is available; more money is received than expected; and so on. Like the young, idealistic person that I am, when something big happens, I get this high. This euphoric, ecstasy-like high.

And then it goes away. Here, it is not about jumping in headfirst; it is about tiptoeing to the water’s edge.

The informal Moroccan motto shiwya b shiwya translates to mean little by little. Opportunities come and opportunities go. When the ball is in your court, it’s yours to take. So why not take it and run?

Because that goes against tradition, millenniums of tradition. Because it is just not done. Because time here does not include a “New York minute.”

An accomplishment is made. I shout it from the rooftops, only to find out the next day that well, maybe it didn’t get accomplished. A problem has appeared or someone has changed their mind. My high turns into a slightly-depressed state of being. I kick myself for getting so excited/worked up when I should have known/expected a baby step not a giant leap.

Change, like Harris said, must be gradual.

This Moroccan Life

In this blog, I have already mentioned by love for podcasts. Back in the states, I occasionally listened to This American Life. In Morocco, I have developed a slight addiction to the podcast version. For those unfamiliar with the program, it tells stories of the lives and events of your every-day American. I recently traveled to my friend Lindsey’s site of Azilal. On the way, I had some interesting encounters with your everyday Moroccans:

-Taking a taxi to Khenifra, the person sitting next to me was an off-duty gendarme. The gendarmes are the military police and since most of them are young, suppressed Moroccan men, I prefer to avoid them as much as possible. This guy, though, was a genuinely interested in the fact that I was speaking Tamazight and what my job was. He surprised me a little when he said the name of my town. Turns out, he was on the king’s police detail 2 weeks ago when the king came through. When I got to Khenifra, there were bus issues but this guy helped me get on the right bus to Beni Mellal so I could meet Lindsey in time.

-Once on the bus to Beni Mellal, the person sitting next to me and I began talking. Turns out, she has a PhD in linguistics with a focus in English. For most of the 2 hour ride we talked about all sorts of Moroccan things.

When I finally made it to Azilal and reflected on these two encounters, I felt refreshed. The day had started early but I was rejuvenated and excited about my new Moroccan experience.

Royal Pageantry

The biggest news to come out of the town this week…The king came to town. That’s right. King Mohammed VI graced this little mountain town with his presence and it was one of the most exciting things to hit this town in a long time.

When I returned from Fez last weekend, the town had a different look to it. My town has always looked pretty to me but now, it looked cleaned and polished. Flagpoles had gone up; the streets and sidewalks had been painted; and the trash fields had been bull dozed. These are all tall tale signs that the king was coming.

Thursday was the big day. The electricity and excitement in the air were unmistakable. Everybody had their Sunday best on (except for me; I was in the warmest clothes I could wear) and were eagerly awaiting the king’s arrival. Once again, I was awed and amazed at what I saw from my bystander point of view.

Members of my host family and the women in the cooperative were in the receiving tent. I was fortunate to be able to sit with them and take pictures. Unfortunately, the king ran a few hours late and was unable to stay here for long so very people got to actually meet him. This royal event is another one of the unforgettable moments I have had here in this magnificent country.

Yesterday, the women in the cooperative went to Ifrane where the king was to be and where he was planning to recognize all the social development projects in this province. One of those projects…the COOPERATIVE! Mohammed VI recognized the cooperative and shook the president’s hand. I was unable to attend but I watched the festivities on the news later. Watching Fatima shake the king’s hand was an incredible, emotional, enriching experience. That my friends are what dreams are made of.

April Showers Bring May Flowers

“Snow in mid-April makes you desperate”

These well-spoken words were uttered by the one and only Garrison Keillor in his Lake Wobegan monologue in last Saturday. The little town where I lay my head has seen snow showers twice this past week. In the previous two weeks, the sun shined brightly and the weather showed signs of warmth. People in the town were making their summer plans; busy with their spring cleaning; and excited about the beauty that spring will bring. This new burst of winter weather is frustrating us all and desperation is setting in.

I am desperate to put the inferno away for a few months.
I am desperate to shed the winter layers.
I am desperate for winter to end and spring to arrive.

As winter drags on, things seem stuck in the “same-old.” All around me, other volunteers are talking about how pretty their sites look with the spring flowers and how enjoyable they are finding the weather. At a much higher altitude than they, I am losing patience with this seemingly endless cycle of winter but also know that winter will eventually turn into spring. Before I know it, spring will have become summer, and then harvest season and autumn will arrive in no time; and then it is time for winter again. In my 23rd year on Earth, the cycle will continue, just as it has for the past 22. But I am in a new place and can’t help but harbor doubts. It is in the well-intentioned metaphors/quotes/proverbs that I find comfort…the gold that awaits at the end of the rainbow; it is the journey not the destination that counts; and perhaps, the most important, April showers bring May flowers.

Life As Usual

Things in April have been life as usual. I have updated Flickr to include pictures from the last month. This past week, a natural-dye workshop was held in my town by Amina Yabis, one of the most incredible women I have every met. She is a true force of nature. It was great for the women in the cooperative to talk with her and learn from her.

I am writing this entry from Fez where I am sitting an expats cafe drinking organic coffee and a chocolate milkshake, using free Wifi, and eating a chocolate muffin. These are so amazing that I am getting emotional just sitting here.

Enriched

A few weeks ago while in Rabat, I spoke to a group of American study abroad students. One of the questions they asked was “what has been the most enriching experience I have had in Morocco.” I answered what I think is the typical volunteer response…when I walk around town and people call my name; when children come running to give me hugs; and when children talk to me about the newest thing they learned especially the newest English word.

Yesterday, the sun shined brightly and the wind was just a light breeze. Taking advantage of this, I took my chair outside and under the sun’s rays, I read The Audacity of Hope. One of the teenage girls who lives across the street came up to me to see what I was reading. She read the cover and proclaimed “Oh, he is the guy we like for president!” After laughing a little, I returned to the page I was reading while she started to read over my shoulder. She read an entire page with very good pronunciation and by the time she was done, I was smiling from ear to ear. This is what enriches me.

Wind Reflections

As I sit here listening to the wind howl outside my bedroom window grasping my American-sized coffee cup for dear life, my mind drifts. There is a sense of peace outside; that peace is inside me, in my body, in my actions.

As the heat from freshly-brewed coffee warms my body, I think about:

--the night sky and how with one glance, it can make someone drop their jaw with its beauty, solitude, and sparkle
--my sister’s visit in June
--my parent’s visit in July
--the rugs made by the cooperative and the love and pride that is woven into each thread
--the Democratic presidential race and the high level of knowledge of the elections displayed by locals
--the respect and the hospitability shown to me but also the resentment I have felt
--how much Ali has grown and wonder if I have aged as much as he has
--my next shower
--the fact that the coffee is gone and it is time for a refill