Well…I am home. Home as in America. Home as in Florida. Home as in Panama City—in the house I grew up in and will be stationed for an indeterminate amount of time.
It has been a month since I left site. While emotional, the goodbyes were not overwhelmingly sad. In fact, they went much better than I was expecting. I know (and my host family knows) that I will be back someday. Just when that day will be is anyone’s guess—well, on second thought, it is MY guess as to when I will return so all I can say is inshallah. When saying goodbye to Naima—what I anticipated to be the second-hardest goodbye, she told me to go to America, go back to school, learn as much as I can since I have the opportunity to do just that, and tell people about Morocco. When I do all that, it will be time to return to the little mountain village that arguably was a better teaching tool than any formal learning environment could have offered.
Amazingly enough, I held it together during Naima's little speech. Even more amazing considering that just 2 days before, I found out that she was attending the first ever (written Arabic) literacy classes for women to be held in town. Of all the wonderful women I had the pleasure of getting to know in the last 2 and half years, she was, by far, the most wonderful.
The two times I came close to breaking down during the goodbyes was when my host family presented me with a pair of beautiful earrings after throwing a large neighborhood party in my honor; and on my final morning, when Ali woke up, ran up to me, kissed me and said “Sbah Lxir, Ilham” (translation: good morning, my Arabic name).
The last few days in country were a whirlwind as I tried to wrap up all sorts of Peace Corps administrative items in Rabat. The mix of feelings surrounding COS is hard to convey but it seemed like the 40 other soon-to-be RPCVs were (and currently are) going through the same thing. Maybe this is why it is difficult to talk about the last 2 years now that I am home and moving about town.
In the intervening 4 weeks between finishing Peace Corps and returning home, I spent a week in London with my sisters. They were the first to experience my awkwardness in the Western world. I’m sure they will attest to my struggles with English and being on “African time”.
Just in time, I flew to Barcelona and was back in a semi-comfort zone as I joined 16 other RPCVs from Morocco, 2 from Peace Corps Cameroon, and (a completely coincidence) 2 from Peace Corps Niger. We boarded a boat sailing around the Mediterranean and across the Atlantic. This was the best way (for me) to return to the US and finish off my Peace Corps time. 21 of us, all in the same situations, having a carefree time, enjoying each other’s company and while we all know each very well, growing just a little bit closer. Not too mention, the practice of talking with other passengers about our experiences these last 2 years and our plans going forward was invaluable.
Now, the carefree, no-hassles travel is over. No longer can I delay re-adjustment or hide from reverse culture shock. The life I have led for the last 2 and half years is over (maybe the more I say it, the more I will start to feel it). I must deal with reality (in America), assess the job situation, and do all the little housekeeping items—like getting car insurance.
I am trying to reconcile the parts of Moroccan life I loved with the parts of America I love. Inshallah, I will arrive at a place I have carved for myself and a life with a healthy balance. It helps to know that I have opportunities available, that I have a great network of family and friends in Panama City, and that I can pick up the phone and call one of the 40 other RPCVs going through the same process I am.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
saying goodbye, travel plans and updates
Unless I can find the words to describe all the emotions and feelings running rampant at this moment, this will be the last blog post from Morocco. There is just too much going on right now to write but if the Internet cooperates, the Flickr page will be updated today. I have every intention to continue blogging after my return to the good ole USA. So in a month, look for more posts featuring more reflection, more wrap-up, and possibly my COS travels.
In a week, I leave site. How do I say goodbye to a village that has fed me, cared for me, and taught me what a textbook cannot? For so long, I have considered myself “ready” to leave. And I am ready to leave Peace Corps and to move on from Morocco. But actually packing to leave and saying goodbye is another story. This is painful.
November 20th is the day I “stamp out” and become a RPCV—stands for Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. On the 21st, I am on a plane to London where I will spend a week with Ellen and Katherine. This will be the first time my sisters and I have been together since September 2007 when I embarked on this adventure.
Just how will I get to Amerikah? I will be sailing the ocean blue, like Columbus, sharing the voyage with 19 other RPCVs!. Instead of the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria, the ship is named the Norwegian Gem—part of the Norwegian Cruise Line. I will arrive in the “New World”, after sailing past the Statue of Liberty, on December 12th and fly home on the 13th. For those of you in Panama City and surrounding areas, let’s set up some coffee dates or chats at Hofbrau. Please.
Moving forward, my vision for this blog is to continue to write and post updates about the re-adjustment process and future (and as yet unplanned) travel adventures—why I gave the blog a more general title than a Moroccan-themed title. Re-adjustment is going to be difficult. With each word I write about re-adjusting, the more scared I get. I have trouble with English—what words need to be used when, pronunciation, not slipping in random God phrases and Arabic words, etc. I am not used to being around Americans. I have forgotten how to act in social situations.
This year, Thanksgiving falls in the middle of the hectic COS travel period for my stage and is the same day as Leid Kbir for all those PCVs with time left in their service. Well, Halloween just happened to fall on a Saturday. So, Anna, a PCV close to me, decided to celebrate Thanksgiving at Halloween. Best. Idea. Ever. It was wonderful to talk about COS’ing with my fellow stagemates, share experiences with other PCVs, eat delightful food, and attend my last PCV party.
A friend of mine from UA came to visit last weekend and I used the opportunity to see Marrakech and Casablanca for the last time and Imlil for the first time. Adam is currently a Mitchell scholar in Belfast, Ireland studying rural development. (For the record, he can attest to my lack of social skills, pitiful knowledge of pop culture, and vocabulary/pronunciation issues.) We had a great visit seeing the sites of Marrakech; getting hushed because we screamed “Roll Tide” several times during the Bama-LSU game; discussing rural issues as we hiked around Imlil; talking politics, grad school, and law school; and just how do we get to where we want to go.
In a week, I leave site. How do I say goodbye to a village that has fed me, cared for me, and taught me what a textbook cannot? For so long, I have considered myself “ready” to leave. And I am ready to leave Peace Corps and to move on from Morocco. But actually packing to leave and saying goodbye is another story. This is painful.
November 20th is the day I “stamp out” and become a RPCV—stands for Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. On the 21st, I am on a plane to London where I will spend a week with Ellen and Katherine. This will be the first time my sisters and I have been together since September 2007 when I embarked on this adventure.
Just how will I get to Amerikah? I will be sailing the ocean blue, like Columbus, sharing the voyage with 19 other RPCVs!. Instead of the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria, the ship is named the Norwegian Gem—part of the Norwegian Cruise Line. I will arrive in the “New World”, after sailing past the Statue of Liberty, on December 12th and fly home on the 13th. For those of you in Panama City and surrounding areas, let’s set up some coffee dates or chats at Hofbrau. Please.
Moving forward, my vision for this blog is to continue to write and post updates about the re-adjustment process and future (and as yet unplanned) travel adventures—why I gave the blog a more general title than a Moroccan-themed title. Re-adjustment is going to be difficult. With each word I write about re-adjusting, the more scared I get. I have trouble with English—what words need to be used when, pronunciation, not slipping in random God phrases and Arabic words, etc. I am not used to being around Americans. I have forgotten how to act in social situations.
This year, Thanksgiving falls in the middle of the hectic COS travel period for my stage and is the same day as Leid Kbir for all those PCVs with time left in their service. Well, Halloween just happened to fall on a Saturday. So, Anna, a PCV close to me, decided to celebrate Thanksgiving at Halloween. Best. Idea. Ever. It was wonderful to talk about COS’ing with my fellow stagemates, share experiences with other PCVs, eat delightful food, and attend my last PCV party.
A friend of mine from UA came to visit last weekend and I used the opportunity to see Marrakech and Casablanca for the last time and Imlil for the first time. Adam is currently a Mitchell scholar in Belfast, Ireland studying rural development. (For the record, he can attest to my lack of social skills, pitiful knowledge of pop culture, and vocabulary/pronunciation issues.) We had a great visit seeing the sites of Marrakech; getting hushed because we screamed “Roll Tide” several times during the Bama-LSU game; discussing rural issues as we hiked around Imlil; talking politics, grad school, and law school; and just how do we get to where we want to go.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Trainges and Changes
To those of you who did not have the pleasure of traveling with me to the Mediterranean beach town of Ras la Ma, trainges is the act of changing trains (as defined by Urban Dictionary) and in PCV-speak, usually caused by a train derailment.
Much like that journey to the Mediterranean, a long train journey can describe these last two years. For any journey, one hopes for smooth passage but expects a few bumps along the road. Travel to my wonderful site did not involve an actual train so just metaphorically speaking, two years ago, I jumped on a train and began this crazy journey of being a Peace Corps volunteer.
So often, the journey seems to moving along just fine. The train moves at a methodical pace until all of a sudden, it does not. My Peace Corps journey seems to progress at a steady, albeit slow, pace until all of a sudden a “trainge” happens. I can point to specific examples where a “trainge” has been required: adjusting to my CBT site; the failure of the cooperative and switching work assignments to the computer literacy classes; and the most current, no new PCV in my area--what was supposed to happen. This latest halt on the tracks is forcing me to change how I deal with the last three weeks in site. I need to prepare the women starting an association to have no PCV support as they continue, figure out how to break the news to people I have grown to love, and come to terms with leaving and letting go.
The quote above is apt to what I have experienced the last few months and what is about to happen as I begin the difficult task of re-adjusting to America and Panama City. The first time this hit me was at COS conference in the Hotel Chellah—the same hotel we stayed at upon first arriving in country. Two years ago, it was “what do you think the next two years are going to be like” and the typical getting to know you/Peace Corps stuff. This time around, it was “what an amazing two years,” “can you believe it is over” and “this hotel is so much nicer than I remember.” (Oh what two years of budget, bug-infested hotels will do to you.)
It is a weird feeling knowing while everything seems the same, it is not. My host family has an old black and white photo of our town. Comparing that picture to the scene today, one sees schools where none previously existed; beautiful government buildings, power lines, and overall, a more prosperous-looking town. Unseen to the naked eye is the knowledge that laundry is still washed the same way; the food is the same, eaten and cooked the same way; and the daily routines and gender roles are still in force. I tend to focus on the bigger picture instead of looking at the little but important details. I am fairly certain that I can return here in 20 years and think everything is the same. All that I will need to do is look around and see how that 20-year gap has affected my perspective and look beyond to see ways in which this amazing place, my version of the simple life, has changed.
And for Panama City...I will be returning to live in my hometown after 3 years of college and 2 ½ years abroad. Panama City is not an unchanged place but I am afraid it will seem that way to me after the initial excitement of coming home wears off. That said, how nice will it be to walk down the beach, stare at the empty condo buildings, look out at the ocean and see “ways in which I have altered?”
In six weeks, I return to America. This current journey ends and another begins. I will see the alterations I have made to myself, learn the ways my perspective has changed, and just how the re-adjustment process will go. I am sure “trainges” will occur; bring them on.
Much like that journey to the Mediterranean, a long train journey can describe these last two years. For any journey, one hopes for smooth passage but expects a few bumps along the road. Travel to my wonderful site did not involve an actual train so just metaphorically speaking, two years ago, I jumped on a train and began this crazy journey of being a Peace Corps volunteer.
So often, the journey seems to moving along just fine. The train moves at a methodical pace until all of a sudden, it does not. My Peace Corps journey seems to progress at a steady, albeit slow, pace until all of a sudden a “trainge” happens. I can point to specific examples where a “trainge” has been required: adjusting to my CBT site; the failure of the cooperative and switching work assignments to the computer literacy classes; and the most current, no new PCV in my area--what was supposed to happen. This latest halt on the tracks is forcing me to change how I deal with the last three weeks in site. I need to prepare the women starting an association to have no PCV support as they continue, figure out how to break the news to people I have grown to love, and come to terms with leaving and letting go.
There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find ways in which you yourself have altered.
Nelson Mandela
The quote above is apt to what I have experienced the last few months and what is about to happen as I begin the difficult task of re-adjusting to America and Panama City. The first time this hit me was at COS conference in the Hotel Chellah—the same hotel we stayed at upon first arriving in country. Two years ago, it was “what do you think the next two years are going to be like” and the typical getting to know you/Peace Corps stuff. This time around, it was “what an amazing two years,” “can you believe it is over” and “this hotel is so much nicer than I remember.” (Oh what two years of budget, bug-infested hotels will do to you.)
It is a weird feeling knowing while everything seems the same, it is not. My host family has an old black and white photo of our town. Comparing that picture to the scene today, one sees schools where none previously existed; beautiful government buildings, power lines, and overall, a more prosperous-looking town. Unseen to the naked eye is the knowledge that laundry is still washed the same way; the food is the same, eaten and cooked the same way; and the daily routines and gender roles are still in force. I tend to focus on the bigger picture instead of looking at the little but important details. I am fairly certain that I can return here in 20 years and think everything is the same. All that I will need to do is look around and see how that 20-year gap has affected my perspective and look beyond to see ways in which this amazing place, my version of the simple life, has changed.
And for Panama City...I will be returning to live in my hometown after 3 years of college and 2 ½ years abroad. Panama City is not an unchanged place but I am afraid it will seem that way to me after the initial excitement of coming home wears off. That said, how nice will it be to walk down the beach, stare at the empty condo buildings, look out at the ocean and see “ways in which I have altered?”
In six weeks, I return to America. This current journey ends and another begins. I will see the alterations I have made to myself, learn the ways my perspective has changed, and just how the re-adjustment process will go. I am sure “trainges” will occur; bring them on.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Looking in the Rearview Mirror
The many times I dreamed about COS’ing, I envisioned being very Zen. Life here would approach its natural conclusion and all I would need to do was enjoy the moment. Well, less than a month to go and I am filled with anxiety, disbelief, and doing everything possible to not be wack-evac’d.
Anxious about the next volunteer in my area…Will she like it? What if she thinks the site is too rough (bone-chillingly cold in the winter and no running water)? Her site—it’s 10K away from me—will be tough. The community is wonderful. Something could happen, though, and a deserving community will be without a PCV. I am nervous and a little bit scared about that possibility.
Writing the required description of service, finishing the site journals for future volunteers in the area and going through my old journals has me looking in the rearview mirror. At the beginning of this journey, the best adjective to describe me would be ‘naïve.’ I was SO naïve that it is hard to believe such a high level of naivety exists. All my bold, long-term visions? Ha. Absolutely laughable. Still, I have retained most of my idealism (I think) but it is more of a hardened idealism if there is such a thing. I was 9 months into service when the bottom dropped out, my ignorance was painfully gone, and it became clear: I had no idea how HARD Peace Corps would be.
The fact that I have almost completed the 27-month service committment is surreal. In my dark, depressive periods I was ready to call programming staff and say “I cannot take it anymore. I want to go home” My long-term visions turned into a focus on short, immediate results. The women’s computer literacy project took off and has been wildly successful. The women graduated and started their own business—a bakery for the traditional Ramadan sweets!!! And now they are trying to start two more ventures.
Compared to all the days behind me in site, it seems like the few remaining days should be a piece of cake. Wrong. Last week at the post office, I had the nerve to ask my postman to look the mailroom for a package that should have arrived awhile ago. He was not happy with my request and said so, loudly and rudely. All I could do was mutter--to myself--the number of days left in site.
Looking back at the aspiration statement I was required to write shortly before arriving in Morocco, these were the first 2 lines: “During my Peace Corps service, I hope to affect the lives of those in my host community and leave a mark on those around me. Also, I know that everyone I meet will leave their mark on me.” That second sentence…I am a better person today because of all those around me. Yes, I have gained professional experience and invaluable grassroots/community development knowledge but what has helped me mature and grow into an adult are the friendships I have made with women in the weaving cooperative, the women in the computer classes, various families in town, my wonderful host family, and easily, the most inspirational, best group of people I have ever met, my fellow PCVs.
Anxious about the next volunteer in my area…Will she like it? What if she thinks the site is too rough (bone-chillingly cold in the winter and no running water)? Her site—it’s 10K away from me—will be tough. The community is wonderful. Something could happen, though, and a deserving community will be without a PCV. I am nervous and a little bit scared about that possibility.
Writing the required description of service, finishing the site journals for future volunteers in the area and going through my old journals has me looking in the rearview mirror. At the beginning of this journey, the best adjective to describe me would be ‘naïve.’ I was SO naïve that it is hard to believe such a high level of naivety exists. All my bold, long-term visions? Ha. Absolutely laughable. Still, I have retained most of my idealism (I think) but it is more of a hardened idealism if there is such a thing. I was 9 months into service when the bottom dropped out, my ignorance was painfully gone, and it became clear: I had no idea how HARD Peace Corps would be.
The fact that I have almost completed the 27-month service committment is surreal. In my dark, depressive periods I was ready to call programming staff and say “I cannot take it anymore. I want to go home” My long-term visions turned into a focus on short, immediate results. The women’s computer literacy project took off and has been wildly successful. The women graduated and started their own business—a bakery for the traditional Ramadan sweets!!! And now they are trying to start two more ventures.
Compared to all the days behind me in site, it seems like the few remaining days should be a piece of cake. Wrong. Last week at the post office, I had the nerve to ask my postman to look the mailroom for a package that should have arrived awhile ago. He was not happy with my request and said so, loudly and rudely. All I could do was mutter--to myself--the number of days left in site.
Looking back at the aspiration statement I was required to write shortly before arriving in Morocco, these were the first 2 lines: “During my Peace Corps service, I hope to affect the lives of those in my host community and leave a mark on those around me. Also, I know that everyone I meet will leave their mark on me.” That second sentence…I am a better person today because of all those around me. Yes, I have gained professional experience and invaluable grassroots/community development knowledge but what has helped me mature and grow into an adult are the friendships I have made with women in the weaving cooperative, the women in the computer classes, various families in town, my wonderful host family, and easily, the most inspirational, best group of people I have ever met, my fellow PCVs.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Ahhh, Fall
I love fall. Gone is the oppressiveness of summer, Ramadan, and nights full of noisy celebrations. In style, currently: sunny days with a slight chill in the air, busy days and leisurely nights, and my favorite fruit season—pomegranates and apples.
Walking around town is such a pleasure these days. I see stacks of wood and say “lhamdullah” to myself, because I will do not have to endure another Middle Atlas winter. But on the chillier nights, I see smoke rising from forno pipes, smell the roasting wood and think about how much I will miss the simplicity of this place.
The time has come for me to sit down and try to put the last 2 years in perspective. So a couple hours a day, I sit on a park bench here,
going through my old journals, from the first page of journal #1 to the last page of journal #4 (currently writing in #5); developing site journals for the new volunteer and future volunteers, and reading.
Occasionally, I pause to stare at the hills and wonder if snow will fall before I leave—in just 36 days. My thoughts go from excitement regarding my COS travel plans to anxious about the re-adjustment process. Of course, since it is college football season, the fact that Alabama is now ranked #2 is never far away. Roll Tide!
Walking around town is such a pleasure these days. I see stacks of wood and say “lhamdullah” to myself, because I will do not have to endure another Middle Atlas winter. But on the chillier nights, I see smoke rising from forno pipes, smell the roasting wood and think about how much I will miss the simplicity of this place.
The time has come for me to sit down and try to put the last 2 years in perspective. So a couple hours a day, I sit on a park bench here,
going through my old journals, from the first page of journal #1 to the last page of journal #4 (currently writing in #5); developing site journals for the new volunteer and future volunteers, and reading.
Occasionally, I pause to stare at the hills and wonder if snow will fall before I leave—in just 36 days. My thoughts go from excitement regarding my COS travel plans to anxious about the re-adjustment process. Of course, since it is college football season, the fact that Alabama is now ranked #2 is never far away. Roll Tide!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The Coolest Thing
What’s the coolest thing you have done in Morocco?
Ummmm, how exactly does one answer this question? I have lived in this country for 750 days, give or take a day, learning the language, traveling extensively, living with the locals. My time here has been filled with experiences I could not have imagined when I applied for Peace Corps.
Some background on the question: The volunteers who will be replacing my group arrived in country a few weeks ago. Several of them are training in Azrou. On Saturday, the PCV in Azrou organized a hike for the trainees and the volunteers in the region. Close to the summit of our favorite hike in Azrou, one of the new arrivals asked me, “what’s the coolest thing you have done in Morocco?”
I was quick to say that I could not pick “the coolest thing” because I have done so many “cool things” the last two years. I ended up describing my 50-foot cliff jump into the Mediterranean Sea as the coolest thing I had done in the last 4 months.
Now that I have had a couple of days to sit on the question, I have compiled a list of my “coolest things”:
(in order of occurrence)
• Building a snowman with SiMo, complete with a Bama hat on its’ head
• Shaking the hand of a princess and exchanging small talk with her
• Seeing King Mohammed VI live and in the flesh
• Watching hard-working, illiterate women meet the king and receive a large grant
• Being asked if I “speak kayak” before being allowed to paddle in the Atlantic Ocean
• Showing my host family my election ballot
• Riding a camel through the Merzouga dunes
• Running in 2 organized 5Ks
• Watching women graduate from literacy classes
• And most recent, visiting the chill beach town of Ras La Ma near Saidia. If you want a beach town comparison, think Grayton Beach. Ras La Ma is home to the aforementioned cliffs. Jumping off the 50-footer was terrifying but morphed into exhilaration about halfway down. And surfacing, shaking my head trying to get my bearings was a thrill like none other.
Ummmm, how exactly does one answer this question? I have lived in this country for 750 days, give or take a day, learning the language, traveling extensively, living with the locals. My time here has been filled with experiences I could not have imagined when I applied for Peace Corps.
Some background on the question: The volunteers who will be replacing my group arrived in country a few weeks ago. Several of them are training in Azrou. On Saturday, the PCV in Azrou organized a hike for the trainees and the volunteers in the region. Close to the summit of our favorite hike in Azrou, one of the new arrivals asked me, “what’s the coolest thing you have done in Morocco?”
I was quick to say that I could not pick “the coolest thing” because I have done so many “cool things” the last two years. I ended up describing my 50-foot cliff jump into the Mediterranean Sea as the coolest thing I had done in the last 4 months.
Now that I have had a couple of days to sit on the question, I have compiled a list of my “coolest things”:
(in order of occurrence)
• Building a snowman with SiMo, complete with a Bama hat on its’ head
• Shaking the hand of a princess and exchanging small talk with her
• Seeing King Mohammed VI live and in the flesh
• Watching hard-working, illiterate women meet the king and receive a large grant
• Being asked if I “speak kayak” before being allowed to paddle in the Atlantic Ocean
• Showing my host family my election ballot
• Riding a camel through the Merzouga dunes
• Running in 2 organized 5Ks
• Watching women graduate from literacy classes
• And most recent, visiting the chill beach town of Ras La Ma near Saidia. If you want a beach town comparison, think Grayton Beach. Ras La Ma is home to the aforementioned cliffs. Jumping off the 50-footer was terrifying but morphed into exhilaration about halfway down. And surfacing, shaking my head trying to get my bearings was a thrill like none other.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Summer Hikes
Summer is officially over! What did I do when not traveling in the UK and around the Mediterranean? I went hiking around the Azrou area! Since a picture is worth a thousand words, here is a photo montage of the beautiful Middle Atlas landscape (plus a few Lake District hikes just 'cause):
As you can see, summer = brown. Sadly, the lush green of spring has faded away.
The cedar forest
Ah, the sunset
I am watching the sunset and thinking about how the sun is starting to set on my service
Mom, Dad and I at the top of Castlehead in the Lake District
Parents, Twink and I at Latrigg with the town of Keswick and Derwentwater behind us—FYI, I highly recommend a trip to the Lake District of England. Spectacular scenery, LOTS of outdoor adventures, and great pubs. What more could you want?
As you can see, summer = brown. Sadly, the lush green of spring has faded away.
The cedar forest
Ah, the sunset
I am watching the sunset and thinking about how the sun is starting to set on my service
Mom, Dad and I at the top of Castlehead in the Lake District
Parents, Twink and I at Latrigg with the town of Keswick and Derwentwater behind us—FYI, I highly recommend a trip to the Lake District of England. Spectacular scenery, LOTS of outdoor adventures, and great pubs. What more could you want?
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