Odes to...

Various souk experiences have given me a true appreciation for Publix, Whole Foods, and Target. Oh, how I miss and love thee. These are 3 of the most wonderful places on Earth. The next time you walk into one of these places I would like you to think about what your life would be like without them. (I am only slightly kidding). At souk, I sometimes feel like I am at an auction (there are lots of wanna be auctioneers here). Moroccans bargain so they pay the very minimum but the sellers target me to be their bread and butter. I don’t want to be that.

One great thing about souk is the fresh vegetable. All the produce comes from Morocco and as close to my town as possible. I can forget about eating anything organic (unless it is sent to me or another volunteer, wink wink). Nevertheless, I sleep easier at night knowing most of my food was grown not very far from me.

Thanks to the wonders of Twinkle, the other morning I ate one of the most fabulous breakfasts on the planet…cheese grits and ________ (it’s major harem here but oh so yummy). It was like I had died and gone to heaven.

While I may be yearning for Western conveniences, I do love it here. Besides all the stuff I have mentioned in previous posts (my family, the people, the food, etc.), I have not mentioned this…black market DVDs. They are everywhere in the big cities and the selection is amazing. Sometimes I have to work a little to find ones in English, but that is no big deal. So far, I have been seen American Gangster, Juno, Charlie Wilson’s War, and a few others.

Twinkle’s Glimpse Into My Moroccan Life

Twinkle came to visit me in Morocco! For those who don’t know, my aunt Twinkle lives in Germany so she is the closest family member to me. She was here for a few days and it marked the first time I have seen family in more than 5 months. If my grandmothers were alive, that would have been major hshuma (Moroccan/Islamic concept).

So I met Twinkle at the airport in Fez and we spent Saturday night and Sunday in Fez. Following our trip back in time in the Fez medina, we traveled to my little town so she could meet my host family and see where I live. I am fairly confident that my town and how I live was a little different than what she was expecting. By the way, big shout out to Twink for bringing me basically an entire suitcase of goodies. I am indebted to you for it!

I have spent most of this month traveling around so I haven’t been able to write as much as I would like. And for your viewing pleasure, I have finally updated Flickr with pictures from the last 6 weeks. Quick update on Ali’s life (see a Dec. post about him): I swear that every time I go away for a few days; he grows an inch. I attended a Peace Corps training for 5 days and when I came back, he had gotten his first 2 teeth. I can’t believe I missed that milestone in his life.

And before I end, I would like to mention my friend Kathleen. I grew up a few houses down from her and she is now a student at Loyola New Orleans. She is running the Mardi Gras Marathon on Sunday in support of the St. Bernard Project. Check out her blog: runningfordaparish.blogspot.com and check out www.stbernardproject.org to find out more information about the cause and the rebuilding of New Orleans. Good luck Kathleen!

Sounds of Morocco

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 :)

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.

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…

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…

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...