Old Time/New Time and Summer!

Old Time/New Time

At the end of April "we" "switched" to daylight savings time. I put those words in quotation marks because the switch is not really a switch, we merely add a way to tell time. Why is "we" in quotes? Because the following actually operate on new time: Government buildings like schools and post offices, and the buses. That's it. Nobody else follows daylight savings time. Not shops, not markets, not individuals. They just learn that now the post office opens at 7am (old time) and the kids have to go back to school at 1pm (old time), following lunch. Any meeting you set up must be specified whether it is "old time" or "new time." Last year, when I first experienced this, I asked my Peace Corps friend Erika, when they get used to it and stop specifying. Her response was "...until it's old time again." And indeed, that was true.

This year is a little more complicated because Ramadan happens right in the middle of New Time. The Solution? On ~July 22nd when Ramadan starts, we will switch back to Old Time so people don't have to work as much during daylight hours when they are fasting. Then, when Ramadan is over in Mid-August, we will switch back to New Time until September 30th, when we will revert back to Old Time (a.k.a. Standard Time.)

Last year I thought this was so dumb. I thought "what is so hard about switching to daylight savings time?!" But now I enjoy how much more fluid time has become. (as if it weren't fluid already....) First of all, as time has gone by, I rarely follow time at all anyway. My day goes by calls-to-prayer and temperature. Also, women definitely don't follow New Time. My English lessons at the Woman's Center were always at 10am (old time) and now I show up at 11 (new time) and I'm still right on time.


It's Summer!!

How do I know?

1. It's definitely 90+ degrees during the day.
2. I have had no running water after 9am.
3. I have a strong desire to do laundry and use bleach.
4. I washed my sheets for the first time since Fall. (you can think that's gross-I have a hard time doing laundry when the water is 40 degrees.)
5. My uniform at home is the Gandora. Gandoras are long tunics that women wear inside the house. They are light weight and have loose, open sleeves kind of like a man's muscle shirt. They are gorgeous but strictly housewear. I have a floor length gandora, like in the picture, that is teal with yellow, red, and blue accents. I also have a creme thigh-length one with creme patching pants. The accent colors being lime green and orange. They are wonderful. I often cinch them at the waist with a shoelace and spend most of the day with the bottom tucked into the lace, so that I don't get it wet, what with all my laundry doing.
6. My attitude is very positive. I love the heat and the sunshine!

Camp!

For Most of April I was traveling. Last year, and all other years in recent history, Morocco's Spring Break was a single week.THIS YEAR the government decided to have Spring Break be two weeks long. (As if these kids aren't out of school enough as it is from a million holidays and strikes...) Last year, I coordinated the Ministry of Youth and Sport's English Immersion Camp in Oujda. This year I was assigned to a bit of a different task. I was assigned to coordinate a day camp at a Dar Chebab in Fes. This particular Dar Chebab was chosen because the newest set of Peace Corps Trainees arrived just a few weeks ago and one group of 6 is training at this particular Dar Chebab. Having a camp at the Dar Chebab not only is fun for the neighborhood kids, but it also gives the PCTrainees a chance to see what "camp" is like really early on in their experience. We taught English and did some games in English, and of course, taught the Macarena. It was an especially important time for the PCTs to see what is "normal" here. For example, we prepared a whole afternoon show for the local delegate of the ministry of youth and sports and...of course, he was a no-show. They also got to find out that is is normal for the Moroccan counselors to bust in on your English class, or any activity, and take it over. They're just trying to help. Smacking a misbehaving kid? Also normal. (Although I don't do it...) One particular PCT, Kitty, has a tremendous amount of camp experience under her belt from America. I heard her making a comment about a game we could play with our shoes off that she couldn't play in the states because "insurance wouldn't allow it." HA! All in all, camp week 1 was a great success.

This is a photo of me, the new PCTs, and some of the campers and counselors at the Fes camp. Getting to Camp Week 2 was a bit more of a challenge. The camp to which I was originally assigned for week 2 really didn't have room for me. And camps were canceling right and left for week two because...local delegations just didn't feel like hosting a week 2. I found my refuge though in Tetouan! Tetouan is a lovely mountain city very close to Tangier. It looks so much like Spain! Everything I read referred the the architecture as Andalusian. The kids at the camp were well behaved and spoke a surprising amount of English. I really bonded with a few of them. They also were incredibly participatory with all our activities including an epic 2-hour scavenger hunt that not even one group finished! I will definitely be recreating it for summer camp.

(Photo of Tetouan and it's beautiful white buildings.) Camp finished on a Friday so two other PCVs and I who'd been at Tetouan went up to Tangier for Friday and Saturday. I had been to Tangier last year to do the Special Olympics and really loved it. I went back thinking that my memory would prove false and it wasn't possibly as great a city as I remembered...well I was wrong! Tangier is absolutely just as fantastic as last year! There are so many fun tourists to "bonjour" in the street, so many winding avenues to follow, so many cafes and restaurants to sit at for hours on end. It's also very walkable. Plus, there is the beach and the port. It's humbling and thought-provoking to gaze across the water and stare dreamily at Spain, a mere and clear 8 miles away. Yes, not only is Tangier officially my favorite city in Morocco, it just may be my favorite city in the world, aside from Miami, of course.

This is a picture taken on our trip to Tangier last year of me and Xavier "accidentally" getting caught in a Russian tour group... As much as a loved seeing more of the country and traveling, there's nothing like home. I took a 12 hour bus from Tangier to Errachidia and then took a different bus from Errachidia back to Bouarfa. Once I started getting closer to Bouarfa, I could really see the atmosphere change. The air got thinner, the sky brighter. Everything had a tinge of dusty orange and I felt at ease and at home. The music playing on the bus was distinctly 3aloui, Moroccan/Algerian border music. Imagine you are on an old greyhound, windows wide open, women wrapped in colorful sheets, men with turbans all around you, it's hot and dusty and beautiful.

Glue Huffing!

My first experience with glue huffers was in Bogata Colombia when I was on a family vacation in 2nd grade (1994). I saw little kids with their faces breathing into a sock and I asked "mommy, what are they doing?" and she said "They're breathing glue. It gets them high and then they don't feel the hunger pangs." This shocked me, I felt so sorry for these hungry little boys. I think my mom said this to elicit that response. She then added "They probably won't live 'til their 12." And me being cheeky said "What if they're already 12?" I don't remember her response but I'm sure she rolled her eyes. I remember very little about this trip, but this particular scene stuck with me.

Glue huffers in Morocco are NOT cute little boys. And it's not a problem in Bouarfa, THANK GOD, but I have always seen them in Errachidia. You know a glue huffer because they walk around Out Of Their Mind, shaking really bad, drooling, slurring, and generally asking for money. They also have in their hand a plastic produce grocery bag. It looks empty but I guess it has clear glue in it and they take heavy breaths in and out of the bag.

Every time I've seen one, I haven't been alone, and I've generally been at a cafe sitting outside when they approach and ask for money. This last time though, I was killing time in Errachidia, waiting for my bus back to Bouarfa after the football game a couple of weeks ago. I bought a sandwich and headed for this pretty open air plaza with benches. I was sitting there minding my own business when a glue huffer approached. He hadn't started drooling yet but he was shaking and had the glue in his hand. And he got within a few feet of me and just kept saying "marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me, take me to France..." and I said the respectable phrase to say to beggars "May God make life easier on you" (Allah ysahal) and he took a step closer. So then I said "yallah, go away, Go away!!" And He took a step closer. Now I was a little alarmed and I picked up my backpack and started walking away. But he started following me and getting closer. I was getting a little scared. So I said in a LOUD voice "HSHUMA! Go Away!! Get away from me!" And two guys crossing the street a block away turned and yelled for him to leave, but didn't feel it necessitated coming any closer. So I continued walking away and he continued following me closely pleading "Marry me marry me marry me!" So I thought "OK I need to walk into a shop or something" So I walk toward the end of the plaza and into a little window front public notary with chairs and two women in it. I was searching for women on purpose because sisters protect their sisters and I thought maybe he wouldn't enter a shop full of women.

When I went in I said "can I sit here? I'm scared of that man." BUT he FOLLOWED ME INTO THE OFFICE saying "marry me marry me marry me, take me to France." And the two ladies made the connection of what was happening and said to him "Get out of here, my son. leave! She's married! She's married! right you're married?!" And while I thought that it was strange that these women were trying to reason with a clearly unreasonable man, I said "Yes! I'm WAY married!" (I added the pronoun for "I" at the end of the adjective married to make it stronger. MAZUJA, ANA! MUZUJA, ANA!" But he still didn't leave and still continued his pleadings. So the women threatened to call the police saying "my son, I'm calling the gendarmes!" (Police) But he still didn't leave, so one of the women left the shop and got a couple of guys who came in and, quite anti-climactically, threw him out....And then he re-entered "Take me to France, Take me to France!" and the same guys pushed him out of the shop, and then continued physically pushing him, forcing him to walk all the way to the corner, and then he FINALLY went away on his own.

The nice ladies let me sit in their shop until I calmed down because I was obviously a little shaken up by all of this. They mumbled amongst themselves "hshuma hushma, this poor girl. hshuma on him...." After a few minutes, I got up and walked to the bus station and these ladies insisted on escorting me all the way there. Back to Bouarfa!

I've never seen glue huffers here. Maybe they come out at night? I doubt it though because glue huffing messes your brain up so bad, after a certain point, it's not like you can live a normal life during the day and be a closet glue huffer roaming the streets at night. It fries your brain so that even when you're not high, after a while of doing it, you're still shaky and drooly.

The Adventure Never Ends.

Slavery in Mauritania

Recently CNN did a piece called "Slavery's Last Stronghold" on the prevalence of Slaves in Mauritania. (Read it Here)

The Introduction is as follows: "Mauritania’s endless sea of sand dunes hides an open secret: An estimated 10% to 20% of the population lives in slavery. But as one woman’s journey shows, the first step toward freedom is realizing you're enslaved." Written by John D. Sutter.

Mauritania borders the Western Sahara, which Morocco claims as its own, and which the United States recognizes as an independent territory being occupied by Morocco. Peace Corps was active in Mauritania until about August 2009 when the volunteers were evacuated. Volunteers are generally only evacuated when the volunteer's safety is at risk, usually due to politics. In this case, apparently the group Al Qaeda of the Islamic Maghreb was making its presence known in the region. Niger and Nigeria were also evacuated around the same time. (Morocco was evacuated in 2003 because of strong anti-American sentiment after we invaded Iraq) Technically, it has "suspended" the Peace Corps program in Mauritania, and not completely stopped it. This means that Peace Corps will, supposedly, return when conditions are safer.

One PC/Morocco volunteer I know, who has already completed his service, was part of the group of volunteers who was evacuated from Mauritania. After a little over a year in Mauritania, I suppose he decided he wasn't finished yet, and re-upped for another two years in Morocco.

I wanted more information on this slavery in Mauritania that I had never even heard about. So I asked this RPCV (returned PC volunteer) what his thoughts were on the article. His response was this:

The documentary certainly misrepresented a lot. Nothing they said was factually incorrect but they highlighted a few abuses, ignored a lot of context and made it seem a lot worse than it is. Many white moor families had a black moor family that "belonged to them." They would cook and do chores etc and while, I'm sure there were many cases of abuses, the system functioned because of lack of economic alternatives, not cruelty. No industries economically benefited from slavery. That was all mentioned but certainly not emphasized in the documentary probably because the reporters spent a total of 8 days in Mauritania. PC Mauritania was hard because it was a poor country without a lot of luxuries but in some ways it was easier than Morocco. People were welcoming and had fewer preconceived notions based on tourism. Harassment was lower and communities were closer. Mauritania has a host of serious problems, corrupt government, desertification, lack of water/enough wells, poor education system etc. Slavery will go away when those problems are fixed not when CNN airs a poorly made documentary.

So there you have another side to it. The photos of Mauritania were so beautiful and I imagine it is a lot what southern Morocco/Western Sahara territory looks like. I know the dress is the same because I have seen it even going as far West as Ourzazate. During our Peace Corps service we are absolutely forbidden to visit the Western Sahara Territory because it is supposedly dangerous, although I think it has more to do with that the U.S. doesn't recognize it as belonging to Morocco. I hope I get a chance to make it at least to Tan Tan, (basically the edge of Morocco, the edge of where we are allowed to go) before I leave and see this vast no-man's land.

(the "A" marks Tan Tan and the dotted line marks the border between "Morocco" and Western Sahara. Where I'd REALLY like to go is Dakhla, which is the coastal city in the middle of Western Sahara. It's supposed to be beautiful and have some of the best surfing in the world, not that I surf.)

And now, for your viewing pleasure, is a video of my friend and colleague, Socorra, doing a duet with a Moroccan woman playing the Oud for a celebration of International Woman's Day. Never thought I'd see a Cross Cultural Duet of Pat Benatar's "Love is a battlefield"

Focus on Football

I didn't grow up with sports, but I did grow up with ballet (and a strict teacher!). I credit ballet with having taught me discipline, structure, and work ethic; skills I apply to my everyday life. I theorize that kids who grow up playing organized sports acquire these same skills as well as learning to work together towards a common goal and honing individual strengths at the same time.

One of the volunteers here, Xavier Rathlev, has a partnership with an American high schooler working on his Eagle Scout project. Through this boy scout, Xavier had a bunch of football equipment sent to Morocco, enough to make a couple formidable flag football teams. Trials with bringing the football to the Dar Chebab worked overwhelmingly well and he has since been swarmed by children on a daily basis demanding the football that they know is hidden in his backpack. He formed a team pretty quickly, but weekly practices seemed to wane with no prospect of any kind of game against another team. So that's when our friend Ross Wood stepped in and used some of the equipment the boyscout sent to form his own team in Erfoud, his site, about 1.5hrs away from Goulmima, Xavier's site. This was a great motivator.

The First Ever American Flag Football game in Morocco was thus scheduled for March 11th, 2012.

Where do I fit into all this? Xavier and Ross have undoubtedly been my biggest collaborators/partners-in-crime/support system during my Peace Corps service. Once a match was scheduled I was appointed as "head of the boosters" of the Goulmima team. Mostly that meant that my job was to create a buzz about the upcoming game amongst Moroccans in the Goulmima region and amongst Peace Corps volunteers- especially ones who might want to start a team of their own. My cold calling skills from my fundraising days certainly came in handy. The day of the game, we had a full 10% of Peace Corps Volunteers in the country attend! While we didn't have thousands of local spectators attend the game, fliers were passed out at the high school and at souk. The turnout was not too shabby. The photo below shows just a small portion of the audience, which was mainly made up of guys anywhere from 10 to 40.

(Photo by fellow volunteer Katy Howell-Burke)

The day went off without a hitch despite the huge upset of Erfoud winning the game. It was especially moving to see the the players lining up on the sidelines before the match and think that even four months ago the notion of football, or these kids playing on any sports team, didn't exist. I was very proud to be there and to recognize and appreciate all the hard work that went into making the event happen; especially from Xavier, Ross, this Eagle Scout who donated the supplies, Xavier's brothers who dragged two large-enough-to-carry-a-dead-body-in duffel bags to Europe full of football supplies for Xavier to pick up there. (And the minimal impediments of the Moroccan government officials, of course.)

Other Peace Corps Volunteers have begun the preparation to start teams in at least three other cities in Morocco.

While I have liked football since my first home game at SMU, my freshman year, I have learned more about football in the last year and a half of conversations with Xavier than in my entire life prior to Peace Corps. Despite remedial tutoring, and against my better judgments, I was entrusted with the responsibility of being one of the "line judges." I was very nervous and did mess up one play towards the beginning, but I did alright for the rest of the game. In the following video, I can be spotted sprinting around for flashes of a second in a gray sweatshirt.



The song in the background of the video is from the band The S7rawa Boys, whom I have blogged about before here, and whom MTV has also blogged about! The lead rapper, SiMo Klay, is also Goulmima's quarterback and a hard working high school student who has picked up fluent English in his spare time.

We have also gotten press from the International Federation of American Football! They wrote an article about the game, which you can find HERE.

IN BOUARFA NEWS! My environmental science fair competition is THIS WEEKEND! I'm a little nervous about pulling it off since through the majority of the planning my Dar Chebab was closed and I now have no site mate to help me with logistics. (Who is going to entertain the guests while I make tea for the judges!?!) So wish me luck! The winners of this local competition get to go to a final competition in Oujda next month, hosted by another volunteer.

Site Mate/Laarobiya

The bad news: Hubbell has left me. Yes, my dearly beloved site mate that I had hoped would come and work with the Moroccan male youth, a population I have all but given up on, has left. He has moved to greener pastures- namely Ourzazate- a city with supermarkets, cheese, wine, an international airport, and (perhaps most importantly) other volunteers. So I am now back to being the only volunteer for 250km. So lame. He is a black belt in Kung Fu and the Ministry of Youth and Sports just opened a new sports center and they wanted someone with some real sports skills to come and teach there. So he got a site change. They figured this was easiest since he'd just moved here and hadn't gotten too attached yet.

The Good news: While Hubbell was still here, we got to check something off my Moroccan Bucket list! A visit to Laarobiya!! (pronounced Lah-roh-BI-ya- with the Lah, being how your Brooklyn, Jewish grandmother might yell to someone named "Larry" down the hall- nasally) Laarobiya means "countryside" so they say. How I would explain it would be the desert where the nomads live.

In the photos you may recognize these characters from my Eid Kbir photos, the Kaddouri family. Mrs. Kaddouri's sister married a nomad and adopted their lifestyle, so that was who we were supposed to go visit. When we got there though, Mrs. Kaddouri's sister and her husband had gone into Bouarfa for the day to go shopping. We were instead hosted by Mrs. Kaddouri's brother-in-law's other wife.

This is the typical tent of the nomad of the Beni Guil tribe. The Beni Guils are the Arab pastoralists in this region. They also live in western Algeria. They herd goats and sheep mostly. They don't move too frequently. The tent is made of woven wool. I would estimate it to be 30ftx15ft.

Don't think that they are living in tents because they are poor- oh no- many of these nomads have houses in Bouarfa and Oujda, and almost all have land rovers, trucks, and donkey drawn carriages. Some even have enough money that they feel comfortable keeping it in a bank. (Most people here do not have bank accounts.) I noted to my dad how interesting it was how these nomads will drive into Bouarfa and go to the bank and unload stacks and stacks of cash. "My, how lucrative is the shepherding business!" To which he suggested that they might be dealing in other industries, along the closed Moroccan/Algerian border, than just herding. Whatever is the case, these people have no desire to live a settled life in a house. They are nomads. This is their life. And they are happy to be living this way.

This shows the inside of the tent. Youssef is stooping, but down the center at its tallest point, it is tall enough for me to stand up, though maybe not someone who clears 6ft. Above this fire is a hole in the tent to let the smoke out. Their fuel is tumbleweed. What a staged photo this is though! I told the madam of the tent that I wanted to take a photo of her preparing tea for us, as we'd just arrived, but she said "no way can you photograph me!" so the boys immediately cozied up by the fire and posed.

Ok, Ok, so I accidentally photographed her just a bit. Here is Mr. Kaddouri "tending" the fire and Mrs. Kaddouri sitting in the foreground. In he background you can see our hostess. She's got a pink hijab on, covered by a black hijab on top of that.

After having some tea, some fresh goat's milk, fresh butter on fresh bread, and some Moroccan dates. We "kids" were sent outside to wander around the desert and climb a mountain while the ladies started cooking lunch. The men, after that, were not allowed in the tent at all. We ate lunch separately and the men even ate outside in some other structure.

Riding a donkey up semi-rocky terrain is a lot like riding a bumpy theme park ride; you can't stop laughing because you feel like you're going to fall off and you're being jostled around, but at the same time you're only about four feet off the ground so you can't allow yourself to be too terrified. This is my favorite of our donkey photos. Alae, who is four, was being really selfish with the donkey and didn't want to share, thus throwing a temper tantrum. Sanae was trying to secure him saying it was going to be alright. Hubbell is just laughing and wielding the go-faster-donkey! stick, Loubna, Alae's mother, is looking on, laughing. And Mostapha, another Kaddouri sibling, is probably yelling at Hubbell to use his go-faster-donkey! stick to make the donkey go faster and make Alae scream even more.

Alae and I look very calm here but there was still a lot of yelping and laughing on my part. Alae adjusted pretty quickly to the donkey and rode it all the way up the mountain. Youssef was an expert at that other donkey and the third was not in the mood for passengers at all, so we all took turns riding the other two.

This is a photo of me and Hicham, who was the son of the "other wife". He was the one guiding us up the mountain, which you can see behind us. I would say it was about 60F. A little chilly but sunny.

Just look at that view. It was incredible how far we were able to see. That is a dry river running through the middle.

It is days like this one that make me remember how lucky I am to be where I am. I have days where we might say "Bouarfa won today!" meaning I end the day feeling defeated. This is mostly due to the male youth in this country. (I've rehearsed a new response to "why don't you marry a Moroccan boy?" "Because 99% make lewd comments to me from the second I step out my door!") But there are days, like this one, where I can say that I won. Where I finish the day just over the moon to be exactly where I am. These are days where I've had particularly moving hours at the Dar Chebab, where I've really connected to the kids there. This also happens on days where I get entrenched in the culture: cultural festivities like weddings or baby-naming-parties**, or even seeing how people live out their daily lives. This nomad day is a good example.

I am to the point where I can't imagine never having come here. I can't imagine not knowing what I didn't know a year and a half ago. Today I went and ate lunch at a friend's house and after we women ate couscous on the floor of their house and then gazed at turkish soap operas, I thought to myself "How odd this would have been to me just two years ago... and now it seems totally normal." All in all, I'll take the bad with the good any day, to be able to experience everything that I have here- and will continue to experience over my next 8 months in Morocco.

**A baby-naming-party as I call it is called a "sabou3" (the 3 being a really really nasally A). In our American culture, the parents generally pick a name for the baby before its born and then have a "baby shower" to help prepare. In a culture where until very recently many, many babies died shortly after birth, or many mothers miscarried, a baby was not planned for until after it was already born. This is still followed today. I before-birth baby shower would be the ultimate jinxing of the pregnancy. So a baby has no name for its first week. The baby also has no clothes or anything else for the first week either- until the baby-naming-party where the baby gets its names and gifts. The infant mortality rate is still VERY high in Rural Morocco and most children are still born at home. I met one mother who has given birth to 8 live children and only 2 have lived past the 1-year mark. She's currently pregnant. Prenatal health is still virtually non-existent here and pregnant women will even fast during Ramadan up until the time of the baby's birth. This wikipedia page has infant mortality at "only" about 30 for every 1000 live births. But keep in mind that this figure also includes the modern cities.
(Note: the Beni Guil, for some reason, do a "tleta yam" or baby naming party on the third day, not the seventh. Not sure why. Maybe their survival rates are traditionally higher?)

Sometimes you just have to go with it...

The Importance of Talking to Strangers

I'm on a very good schedule where I wake up at about 8am every morning. These past three days have been warm so I've tried to get outside. This morning I decided to hike up Trek Oujda (Road towards Oujda) which is seriously uphill and a bit rocky and mountainous. On the way I zoomed past a mother and her little girl. After reaching a certain point I decided it was time to turn around and head back down so I could get home and make lunch. Well, when I was going back down I passed this same woman and her daughter again, and this time they stopped me and INSISTED I come to their house.

So I followed her as she took a path off Trek Oujda toward the abandoned magnesium mine. The French found magnesium in the area in the 1940s, and mined it for about 10 years before Morocco starting insisting on independence (won in 1956). While the French were in the area they built large homes for the French men who oversaw the mining. Now in these homes are Moroccan families who are generally squatters. Don't take this to mean that these are temporary, shabby homes. These families have lived in these houses for a couple of generations now and take care of them. I think the government just turns a blind eye to it.

This woman who took me home, her husband, and her four daughters (between 3 and 13 years old) all live in one of these houses. When we got to the outside, I couldn't believe what I was looking at. It was a large white house whose front door was reached by a colonial, round, front porch, with sets of stairs on both sides. Large windows with shutters were all around. When we stepped inside, I thought I was stepping into some kind of time warp- if you can imagine a French, kitschy home, untouched since the 1940s in terms of construction. It was one story but had very high ceilings, very beautifully detailed tile floors but NOT typical Moroccan tiles, which run up the wall. The bathroom had a BATH TUB of blue porcelain, with matching toilet and bidet. The bedrooms were large with small fire places (never seen fire places in Morocco- most have indoor coal-burning ovens, if anything) set with white bricks and a mantle. The kitchen had white tile counter tops and the lights had old stainless steel fixtures. (It's rare to see light fixtures at all) Besides cracks in the walls, the house looked like it had been maintained and had a very "lived in" feel.

As I arrived, the daughters were so excited to see a visitor and they followed me around and introduced themselves nervously. As customary, a pot of tea was put on for me, although really it was close to lunchtime. I told her I already had a lunch appointment but the truth was I didn't really want to eat their food because it looked like they didn't have much to spare. While the tea was heating up, they gave me a tour of their backyard. The fact that they even have a backyard is interesting. In Morocco, most houses are more like ground level apartment complexes, with neighbors on all sides, sharing your walls. But not in "Petit France d l'Mine Manganese"! Their backyard has areas enclosed by chickenwire that have chickens, rabbits, pigeons, turkeys, a dog, and ducks. The section for the ducks even has a little concrete, built-in pool where they can swim. They also are growing cabbage, potatoes, and pommegranates. They have three home-made bee hives (although they bought the bees).


After tea, I left along with two of her daughters who were on their way to the elementary school that is closest to them. (25 minute walk or so.) As we were walking, other children were walking towards the road from out in the desert so I asked the older daughter (11) if those were children who live in tents. (meaning nomads, but I can never remember the word for nomad.) And she said that they were. Then we passed a government building. I asked what they do there and she said that it's a place for the nomads to come and hang out laundry, receive some public assistance like money and food. It's also a health clinic and just general nomadic support. I didn't know such a place existed. She called it the Khiriya.

I got their phone numbers and so I may go visit them again. Walking up to the old mine is a bit of a trek but it'd be nice to walk up and be able to have tea somewhere. I love the Moroccan culture of just GRABBING a clear foreigner and "welcoming" her by bringing her into your home and giving her tea and offering her everything you have- mi casa es tu casa is an understatement in Morocco as to the level of hospitality and generosity here.

This is a satellite photo where my site is at bottom center, and the mine is directly north of it, center, its latitude being even with the word "Photo" on the right and the "+" on the left.

This is the mine up close. The quadrant of houses at the bottom of the photo is what I refer to in this blog. That big "road" running through the mine is a train track that used to take the magnesium up north toward Oujda. They say it doesn't work any more but this family I was with told me there are still people working in it.

And in case you were wondering what surrounds my site....

There is a size scale in the corner left of each of these photos.

Fun, new, and IMPORTANT project!

Having just been back to visit home, I had many people asking me if I needed anything. Well, I think I'm finally taking you all up on that offer.

Drumroll.....

The East of Morocco is about to experience its Very First Science Fair Competition!

A little background: Education here is completely based on rote memorization. This has some value but the education system here seriously lacks in 1. Critical Thinking and 2. Hands-on learning. I have realized through my time teaching English here that the ability to ask the question "Why?" does not come naturally to all people. Open ended questions where there is no "right" answer are taken to be very difficult. [An example: we did essay writing for my upper level English class. I asked the class "Do you think its better for a youth of Morocco to grow up in a small town or a big city?" The room was silent. Why? Because they weren't sure of the right answer and nobody wanted to be wrong.]

Also:

Environmental Education is only just beginning in Morocco. Some people are aware that littering is not Ok, but everyone still does it. Daily I'll walk behind a crowd of people and watch them throw gum wrappers or empty potato chip bags on the ground with no thought at all that it is causing OUR city to look disgusting and junky... and having an effect on the environment they live in.

THIS PROJECT WILL INFLUENCE A CHILD'S ABILITY TO THINK CRITICALLY AND TO DO IT IN A WAY THAT THEIR OWN ENVIRONMENT IS AFFECTED POSITIVELY.

Here's what's happening:

About 7 cities in Eastern Morocco are going to have a regional Science Fair Competition.

Theme: "Environmental Problems in Morocco and Ways to Combat Them."

My city will be having its first ever Science Fair! It will be in small groups (3 or fewer) of middle school and high school-aged students. They will research to identify the environmental problems of the region and devise a way to combat them. They will then present their findings and ideas to local judges. They can do this with an oral presentation, a video, a powerpoint, a play, a display, a live demonstration...etc. etc. They are, for the first time, being encouraged to be Creative! The winning group from the middle school division and the winning group of the high school division will get to compete in the final competition, which will take place in Oujda in April, near Earth Day 2012.

How this Benefits Our Youth!
- Develops Critical Thinking Skills
- Develops problem solving skills
- Will help students gain a consciousness about the environment
- Will help adults in the community (like parents, teachers, and other local adults) gain a consciousness about the environment. (This is a new concept to everyone- not just kids!)
- Will have students learn through a hands-on technique, possibly for the first time
- Will provide the winning students with an opportunity to travel, where most of them likely have never left our town.
- It's not just hands-on, but they have the ability to get CREATIVE with it; something not generally encouraged in school.
- Will give students an opportunity to meet other students from all over the Eastern region and network with them and share experiences.
- Will help students hone their public speaking skills, since they must present their projects to the judges and audience.

But How is This Sustainable?!
Some of the money that we are raising will go to translation and printing of the actual Manual of "How to put on a science fair" that has been written as a result of this project. An important component of Peace Corps is Sustainability. We must ask ourselves "Can this project be duplicated and carried out again, once the Peace Corps volunteer has left?" And the answer is YES! This one can! So far people here seem very motivated and excited about this project and, Inchallah, it can become a yearly tradition and perhaps spread to other regions of the country, without the help of Peace Corps volunteers in the future.

The total amount we need to raise is $1,332. (about 10,660 dirhams) and what's left to raise is still $1,092 (8,750 dirhams). Dollars go a very long way here and if you are inspired by what we are doing, then I would love for you to visit the donation page on the Peace Corps Website and donate whatever you are able. (For $6.25 you're paying for one of the students from my city's transport to Oujda, which is about 5 hours away, by bus.It really doesn't take much to make a difference out here.)

Things to know:
- The type of grant you are donating to is called "Peace Corps Partnership Project Grant" or PCPP. Why? Because, as always with Peace Corps, it's a partnership. As a rule, the host community has donated a full 25% of the budget! That has been mostly in contributions of lodgini for the participants. (not the volunteers!! We will pay for that ourselves) The money donated will go to provide 3 meals a day/tea break for two days for 100+ people.
- 100% of the contributions of PCPP goes to the project. There is not a single cent tied up in administrative fees. Once all the money has been raised, it'll be transferred to an account where Socorra Camposanto (The leader of this whole project) will have access to it and it can be spent as allocated.

I'll keep you updated!! Here's the link again where you can read about the project and donate: https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=378-178

And here is the facebook page for our main Moroccan counterparts: The Oujda American Corner

Gender Relations/Site Mate

***DISCLAIMER: This entry is NOT politically correct, although I tried. It could be perceived as insulting to Moroccan men of my city.... my response? This is what I have experienced and understood. If it's a reality not appreciated by Moroccan men when reading, then CHANGE IT.***

It has been a while since I posted because I've been in America and just got back to my wonderful little apartment this morning. I'll blog on that experience when I have had a few days to know how I feel about leaving and then coming back.

What is a site mate? A site mate is the term we use for a Peace Corps volunteer who lives in the same city as another Peace Corps volunteer.

Why do I have one now? At first I told Peace Corps, when I arrived, that I did not want a site mate. This was for a number of reasons but mainly because I wanted to blaze my own trail and do my own thing. I worried that having a site mate would kill my independence. I was fine with being alone. What Changed? Essentially, I figured out how Morocco and I work together, and I discovered, that pairs are better.

Verbal Harassment
When I first arrived here, in my permanent placement in Eastern Morocco, I knew that the verbal harassment would be bad. From the moment I step out of my apartment in the morning until the moment I come back inside at night I cannot go five minutes on the street without being whispered to creepily, kissing and/or hissing sounds made at me, sincere/insincere marriage proposals, etc. etc. In addition to that being a daily nuisance, periodically I am hit on/proposed to by men I thought respected me/wanted to work with me/take English class with me, etc. Now, of course, there are GOOD men here too. And I've met them. But they are not the ones hanging out on the street corners yelling at me, or professional men who have my phone number for business purposes and call/beep me constantly for, I assume, non business purposes. Is all of this tolerable? Yes, it's tolerable but tiring.

Basically, what I realized is that my Peace Corps service in rural Morocco will be more effective and productive with a male site mate. As I usually put it: It's difficult for me to be proactive when I'm constantly being defensive.. I'll give you a hypothetical example: Let's say I had an idea about a project to do with an agricultural association. I'd probably pass by the doors of the association 15 times before actually going in to introduce myself...that is if I ever worked up the courage. Why? Because, simply, I walk in expecting either 1. To be disregarded as a woman/foreigner (re: unfriendly response) or 2. To be welcomed extremely cheerfully and later in the conversation be inquired as to whether I "live alone" (the opening discreet question to find out whether I'd be down to have an illicit romance.) (re: overly friendly/insincere response). That creates a kind of anxiety leading to me draggin my feet when seeking out projects/networking opportunities.

So as the reader you're probably thinking "So What, Abby?? Go in there! Show them that you're serious and want to work and make them see you as a human being and not just as the opposite sex!" But, I'm telling you-- it's not that easy. Sure, I would have said the same thing but after a year of enduring the same behavior from so many men here over and over again it really does wear a person down. It bears repeating: It's difficult for me to be proactive, when I'm constantly being defensive. So when I finally admitted to myself that I had been defeated, so to speak, was when I sent peace Corps an email requesting that with the new cohort of trainees, I be assigned a male site mate. They responded positively and after much searching for a host family, we found one and at the end of November, my beautiful new site mate arrived.

INTRODUCING!
Hubbell M.!

Name: Hubbell M.
Age: 27, days away from 28
Zodiac Sign: Capricorn
Profession prior to Peace Corps: ESL teacher
Hobbies: Kung Fu, runnning
Likes long walks on the beach


I only got to know him for about 3 days before I left to Miami for my brother's wedding but my impression is that he is an up-beat, positive, and ambitious guy who is ready to get his feet wet. That is the best attitude to take in to a situation like Peace Corps/Morocco.

It's not all about me: How does our site benefit from having Hubbell here?? The better question is how does our site NOT benefit from having Hubbell!? For 10 years now PC volunteers in this city have been girls. So the girls of Bouarfa have certainly benefited! We get to create special friendships and relationships with so many girls and their families. The culture of Morocco is incredibly guest-oriented and not a day goes by that I don't have a standing lunch/tea invitation from many of my lovely female students and neighbors. The relationships I've been able to make with women here have been worth the disappointment of not being able to make equal friendships with men (tried...failed... ) But, while this is wonderful and important, that leaves a whole half of the population here neglected. The "chebab" or teenage/early20s males do not have the same opportunity, which is truly a shame. The cross-culture opportunities created by the "chebab" being friends with a male volunteer are endless.

Our site is now more complete, having both a female and a male volunteer. I also believe that this should be a standard practice for Peace Corps/Morocco, if they have the personnel to fulfill it.

Hubbell and I are going to have a wonderful year together full of independent activities and hopefully some collaborative "GAD" activities ("Gender And Development" formerly known as "WAD" "Women And Development." Changed for good reason!) And, inchallah, some collaborative activities that are not GAD related.

"Borders" or lack thereof

"In the Treaty of Lalla Maghnia (March 18, 1845), which set the border between French Algeria and Morocco, it is stipulated that 'a territory without water is uninhabitable and its boundaries are superfluous' the border is delineated over only 165 km.Beyond that there is only one border area, without limit, punctuated by tribal territories attached to Morocco or Algeria."

I think that every map I've seen here in Morocco of Morocco shows the southern and eastern borders with Algeria as a dotted line that just abruptly stops or no line at all. It always amused me and I thought to myself "well, that's just about how 'exact' everything is around here..." I didn't give too much thought as to WHY all these Moroccan maps lacked clear and concise border demarcations.

Today! I stumbled on the answer.... at least more of an answer than I have ever had before. I found out about something called the "Sand War," which was a border war in 1963. Amazingly, I didn't even know that this war took place practically in my own backyard, specifically with the city of Figuig. (I spent last new years in Figuig, see photos below)

A border conflict was inevitable because the French, when they occupied both Morocco and Algeria, didn't do a good job of defining the borders. To them, this was not an international border issue- it was all basically the same-- desert and oases and desert again. Or as is quoted above, an area "uninhabitable and superfluous" (You'd be surprised!) Then they found Magnesium and other phosphates and the land became a bit more important. (My city has a large old Magnesium mine, abandoned by the French) Their lack of creating a solid border led to conflicts after both Morocco and Algeria became independent, in 1956 and 1962 respectively.

I invite you to look at the following maps of Morocco: (unfortunately only one actually has the dotted line I referred to. I'm not surprised that all the disappearing-border maps of Morocco I see around here--including the map on my wall-- are not to be found in google inquiries.)
- Keep an eye on Erfoud, in Maps 1, 2, and 4. And look at the town of Tata (Southern Morocco, before the W. Sahara) in maps 3 and 4.

Though I couldn't find much information on the borders and their placements, (Someone needs to apply for a Fulbright and figure this out...) Here's an Economist article from 2010 talking about the opening of the border, closed since 1994. Now, you didn't hear it from me, but it is quite a porous border and I have personally experienced benefits from that (No, I didn't jump over there) but I won't name them here. http://www.economist.com/node/16219845


And now, a few photos from my trip to Figuig, the border land, over New Years 2010/2011. I can't believe these are already almost a year old!

Algeria lies between those two mountains in the distance.

That's the border. We rode our bikes all the way up to it. There was guard tower a few hundred yards to the right of this shot.

Hanging over the border (maybe?) and a dry river bed. I was really high up and this took some guts.

Here's a link to the rest of my Figuig photos from last New Years
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.669639889319.2227855.18806879&type=1&l=727aef6f46

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! NO, scratch that... Eid Kbir!

Monday marks The biggest holiday of the year for Moroccan Muslims. It is the Eid al-Adha, or "Festival of the Sacrifice" or as it is better know, Eid Kbir, or "The Big Festival" (The Eid Sghir, small festival, being the celebration at the end of Ramandan)

It has to do with the story of Ibrahim being told by God to sacrifice his son Ishmael, and Ibrahim, being ever obedient, agrees. At the last second, God sends a ram for him to slaughter instead, his faithfulness having been proven. Recently I have been quizzed about Eid Kbir's roots. When I explain the story, people are impressed I know it, but when I tell them it's because we have a nearly identical story in the Bible with Abraham's son Isaac instead, they don't seem to hear me. (We can talk some other time at the cultural differences in "listening" here).

If you want to know more about the general Eid Kbir, here's the wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_al-Adha

How is Eid Kbir celebrated in Morocco?
With a slaughter, of course! Here are the rules: (I have no idea what of this is attributed to Islam,and what is just cultural traditions. I don't have the ability to make a distinction)
- The ideal slaughter is a ram.
- If you can't afford a ram, a sheep or pretty much anything in that family will do.
- Every household must slaughter one, so if a son and his wife travel to visit his mother for the Eid, they need to slaughter two rams. Frequently, a cow can be substituted for big families, and then they only have to slaughter that one animal. If it's a big family all those rams add up to even more than a cow would cost.

The morning of the Eid the healthy ram is taken outside (out of site of any other animals! This is a must!) and the head of the family, or at least a man (women aren't allowed) stands behind the animal, and says "Bismillah" (In the name of God) and, hopefully in just one strike, slice the throat of the ram. Then the ram grotesquely rolls onto its side and kicks as blood squirts violently from the severed artery in his neck. It makes gurgling noises as every bit of blood is squeezed out. It's over in a few minutes. For the meat to be halal (like Kosher, but in Islam) all the blood has to be drained.

Then it's skinned and gutted and the women get to work cleaning out the organs. Before you know it there is a late breakfast of liver shish kabobs.

No More gorey details for now! These are all memories from last year's Eid Kbir with my host family. I plan on taking a video of the slaughter this year and I will post it here.

Meanwhile-- I spotted the rams a few days ago minding their own business on the road. I knew then that the Eid was getting close. (I was trying to be sneaky sticking the camera out my kitchen window without the shepherds seeing.)

ageing in Peace Corps

I have dreams of a beautiful blog entry on a wedding I went to, including documenting every bit of it with photos....but that remains a dream for now because when I think about actually sitting down and doing it I get a little overwhelmed and say to myself that I must have something more important to be doing...

So in the meantime here's a mini-blog:

I have come to the conclusion that I must have really aged in the last year. I was at a friends house this afternoon for Friday couscous and we were looking at photos from my facebook of last year's Eid LKbir (where we slaughtered the ram) and she said "Well you've fattened up a little from last year, haven't you." To which, as always, I respond "yeah a little." That is not considered a rude comment in this country. I've gained about 10lbs, although since Ramadan I've started exercising diligently and I bet I've almost lost that ten pounds.... but even so.... 10lbs on my frame shouldn't be enough to warrant the number of comments I've gotten about it...and I have certainly gotten comments. I've moved from a size 4 to a 6. That's not that big a jump!

So my conclusion is that I actually just look a lot older than last year and some of that comes from wearing my hair up more than down. I know that sounds a little ridiculous but I think that really changes the look of a person. Plus, it's a common fact that going from 23 to 24 years old is a turning point (kidding).

I have also had comments from local kids who've seen my facebook pictures about how "good you looked in the states and how you look 'different' here." well yes, I don't flip my hair around and prance in short shorts on the streets of Morocco.

So I don't know what to make of all these endless comments on my physical appearance. In just over a month I will be back in the states and we'll see if anyone says that the Sahara Sun has aged me. Let's call it "maturity."

All Publicity is good Publicity!!

On July 6th I posted a blog about traveling within Morocco for Peace Corps. One of the projects I participated in was doing a project design and management workshop for a hip hop group in Goulmima called S7rawa Boys. The PCV there has worked really hard with them and their story got picked up my MTV, in honor of the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps and International Day of Peace.

So they have an article on MTV's website!!

http://act.mtv.com/posts/peace-corps-volunteer-uses-hip-hop-to-spread-love/#more-22488

Also, a film crew came from USA and filmed them for a short documentary. The film hasn't been posted yet, but when it is, I will definitely post it here!

I have made it one year!!

I arrived in Morocco on September 15th, 2010, one year ago exactly! On this special occasion I thought that I'd revisit how I packed, having no idea what I was getting into at the time. I've broken it into three fun lists, with notes at the end.

Things I'm so happy I brought:
-A set of sheets! They're hard to find here and I have never seen fitted sheets. This is definitely at the VERY top of the list, plus it doesn't take up much space. *********
-Good nail clippers/tweezers (Mother- I've managed not to lose these for an entire year! Aren't you proud?!)
-Lots of floss. It's good for a whole lot of things, not just teeth. (hotel room clothes lines, etc.)
-Hair brush. They don't have them here. They have little no-handled, bristled things that look like they're for my cat.
-Lots of deodorant. They sell it here, but not a wide selection, and only at the supermarkets. -I don't live anywhere near any supermarket.
-One of those travel soap cases!!!******
-Tons and tons of hair elastics and bobby pins.
-This is a “Happy I Didn't bring it” one: Books! The Peace Corps library is stocked! No sense wasting space on them. M'Hamed the librarian will send you anything your heart desires.
-A bath towel and a hand towel. I actually forgot these at first but got one from Sally from her's and my dad's apt in DC right before leaving.
-A sewing kit
-Duct tape! I actually didn't bring it, though I was advised to, because I thought it was too heavy, but the volunteer I replaced left a roll and I don't know what I'd do without it. White medical tape is also really sticky and won't take paint off.

Things I wish I hadn't wasted luggage space on:
-Shampoo. There's shampoo readily available here of fine brands
-Sleeping bag. It takes up so much space and sure, it's useful when visiting cold places, but so far in a year it hasn't made itself useful enough to make me forget how annoying it was to drag across the Atlantic and then across the country. I'll leave it here when I leave, for sure.
-Hand sanitizer. I brought 3 big bottles and don't ever use it. I know I probably should take little bottles with me when I'm out but I don't. I wash with soap, if available.
-AA Batteries. I don't know what I was thinking not bringing rechargeables.
-Sunscreen. It's in the med kit. You really don't need to bring any medicine, including vitamins.
-Baby wipes. Sure they're convenient when bathing isn't an option, but once they're gone, they're gone and you learn to live without them. Plus they're wasteful.

Things I wish I'd brought (or brought more of):
-Hair Shears. My home hair cuts are great but would be better with proper scissors
-Conditioner. People don't use it and I guess I'm high maintenance and have to use hair conditioner.
-Scotch tape dispenser. I know this is a weird one but it would make my life with scotch tape a lot easier. I use tape at the Dar Chebab for sticking stuff on the walls.
-Winter clothes! Or at least a proper coat. 30 degrees is cold, especially without heat and I don't know that I would have made it through the winter without the stuff my predecessor, Melanie, left behind.
-Jeans!! I have been going through them like crazy! One volunteer who's been here longer told me it's because all the squatting for the squat toilets wears out the fabric faster. I don't know, but I currently don't have ANY casual jeans left.
-Travel size bottles of shampoo/conditioner/moisturizer that I can refill. It's a pain lugging full size bottles around.
-A bathing suit. I figured I wouldn't need it, being in a Muslim country where I have to remain pretty covered, but those tourists are dressed all trashy on the coast and I could be one of them if I had a bathing suit.
-Outlet converters. They get lost pretty easily.
-A little photo album with family pictures. People would love to see what my family looks like.

I sort of wish I'd brought more clothes in general. I spent a lot of my luggage space on mountains of toiletries- soaps, shampoo, etc. and really could have used some more clothes.

Winner of Best Travel Item
A fancy fluffy only-for-the-guest-bathroom!-hand towel that your mother probably wouldn't want you to take out of the house. Why? It's great for short term traveling because it's small, but, believe it or not, can and will dry your whole body and hair and still not be soaking wet. By now I don't think my mother would permit it in any bathroom, especially not the guest bathroom because it's been so heavily used that it's kind of gray and dirty looking...but it still fluffs up even being dried on a clothes line. I don't have a camp towel and while all the all volunteers talk about how 'fast drying' they are, every single one I've encountered smells AWFUL. When you pack a wet towel, “camp” or otherwise, it's going to smell. Plus this towel makes a great pillow against the window on bus rides.

Forget bringing any kind of water purification device. If it's necessary for your region, PC will provide it. If it's not and you're getting sick, man up or boil your water.

Long Term/short Term bag:
So Peace Corps asks us to pack two bags for traveling: a short term bag for the period when we're in training, living with host families; and a long term bag that will be kept in storage until we travel to our final sites. What do I need for the first three months and not the rest of the time!? I had no idea. I basically packed all my clothes in the short term and some of my toiletries and put the rest in storage. I was pretty accurate, I think. The only thing I would change is that even if I like to sleep in little shorts and a tank top, while living with a host family all I wore was one conservative set of pajamas. Never assume that people won't bust into your room at all hours of the night. Privacy is not a Moroccan concept as I understand it. All my tank top/undershirt kind of things plus cotton shorts should have gone in the long term bag. So short term bag should have clothes and toothbrush, one tube of toothpaste, bottles of shampoo/conditioner, 2 bars of soap, deodorant, and bath towel. That's it.

1 year down, 14.5 Months To Go!!

Mabruk L'Eid!

Yesterday was the first day of Eid Alfitr, or Feast of Breakfast, marking the end of Ramadan. Apparently, it lasts about three days. During these festivities everyone dresses in new clothes and parades around the neighborhood telling everyone Mabruk L'Eid! (Happy L'Eid!) and eats lots of sweets.

Most people really celebrate heavily the first day of L'Eid which was yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking rousing myself at 11am and getting dressed (which involves me covering from the neck down) and forging into 100+ degree heat to go to the post office thinking it was probably open. Of course it wasn't open! It must have been delirium from all the cookies I'd eaten.

I'm just happy it's over and a normal schedule can begin again. I hate waking up late, so I'm changing my internal clock little by little. (Waking up at 11 is much better than at 3!) and hopefully on Tuesday the Dar Chebab will be open again and REAL LIFE will begin.

Yesterday's l'Eid weather was terrible! We had so much La3jaj (dusty sand storm) that in about 15 minutes my entire western room was layered in orange sand. So I went up on my roof and recorded the sand moving in from the desert. It's kind of a long video, unnecessarily. Sorry there's no sound. My digital camera doesn't have a sound card or it's broken. But at about 2mins you can really see a shift in the coloring of the air. (it's embedded at the bottom of the page)

Here are some pictures to compare: (there are no rain clouds here. It is literally just sand that's been lifted by the wind, coming from the southwest.)

VS.

The next set it not quite the same shot, but close. You can use the yellow/red striped building on the bottom for reference;

vs.

You get the picture. And now for my first youtube upload! Sorry for the grainy quality-- my camera is not very good for video.

Typical....

I've never considered myself the super "peace corps"y type, (re: low maintenance hippie) but I think I might be...at least more so than I thought.

Evidence:

1. I just sharpened my eyeliner with a knife

2. Felt bugs in my bed last night. (didn't turn on the light to see what they were because I didn't want to know.) Solution? I wore long sleeve/pant pajamas.

3.Calculated my daily water usage based on "buckets" per day. (running water has worsened as the summer has progressed.)
- can successfully wash dishes and laundry with no running water... I mean, it's running at some point. It's all about timing and water storage.

4. And just between you and me, I haven't bought TP since May. (except for traveling).

I don't think cutting my own hair should count. Lots of people do that in the first world. Though I do know one guy who gave himself a pretty nice trim with his pocket knife.

Also, that fact that I'm still wearing eyeliner once in a while is proof that I'm not way over the hippie-edge. Although, I will admit I'm wearing it because I was told by my good friend, Radia, "THella fik!" or "Take care of yourself!"

The girls here really glam it out when they go out on the town. Now that it's Ramadan, evenings are popping. From about 10pm - 1am the streets are FULL. People are out wandering around to look at other people primarily and secondarily to buy a new outfit to wear on "L'Eid Sghrir" (meaning "small feast day." Actually called L'Eid Lftar, which means "Breakfast Feast Day").

Tonight, I'm going to go wander around the streets with my friend, Soumaya. So I'm trying to look my best, I guess. I was recently asked why the girls that are sent to my town as Peace Corps volunteers "don't dress as well as the Americans we see on T.V." I really didn't have a good answer because what I wanted to say was, "Well if you notice, the American girls on TV are perhaps showing a little calf/knee action and don't have their rear-end covered by long, baggy shirts." Instead I told her that I couldn't speak for the other volunteers that preceded me but that I wasn't very fashion conscious because it didn't really matter. We were not on the same page with that and she really didn't understand.

Oh well. I'm trying to meet their American expectations, while still dressing conservatively and avoiding using "kohl" (the THICK traditional eyeliner used by people all across Mid-East/North Africa for thousands of years) Here's a photo I found on the internet of a pretty standard bride in a Moroccan wedding. Check out that makeup!

Ramadan Packages!

Today is August 23rd. I have been fasting during daylight hours for 21 days now! And thank goodness Ramadan is almost over! Through this experience I have solidified that I am a morning person and that just does not suit Ramadan. In any case, one of the best things about this time is that people are even more welcoming than usual and I have daily invitations to break fast, or "lftor" with a family in my community. That is the main reason why I am fasting anyway. Sure, I could just eat and drink in my house, but then what fun would it be to break fast if I'd been eating all day? Plus, I wanted to experience it and be able to say I did it the whole month.

I doubt I will fully fast next year. From food? Probably. But not from water. It is well over 100 degrees here and there's over 15 hours of daylight. Next year Ramadan will begin in the middle of July. I have changed my schedule so I'm literally up all night, and rarely asleep before 6am (a full 1.5hrs after the call to prayer that begins the fast.) And I am generally not out of bed until 3pm.

Ok, ok, so maybe waking up at 3pm is kind of cheating but technically I am playing by the rules. I know for a fact that the teenage boys are not waking up before that either because they're outside my window playing soccer until they have to go home to eat SHHor at around 3am. The women/girls I've talked with who are not married/mothers also don't get up before 2 or so either.

Today! I roused myself at NOON! (which was difficult because there was a solitary fly in my room attempting to go up my nose until 8 IN THE MORNING)But I got up because I knew there would be a package waiting for me at the post office.

Surprise! There were TWO packages! One from the Peace Corps librarian and one from my mother. The PC librarian is my favorite staff member by far. Every so often, out of the blue, I'll get a package with some lesson plans, random magazines, and books that he thinks might interest me. It's such a sweet surprise. Recently he sent me the book "'Tis" by Frank McCourt; a sequel to "Angela's Ashes." I was talking about "Angela's Ashes" with my friend who said that it was one of his favorite books and I absolutely could not read the sequel without reading the first. I shot off an email to the librarian and today I found "Angela's Ashes" in my mail box!

Now for my mother's WONDERFUL package: It was so beautiful, I had to photograph it.(click to enlarge)

List of its precious contents:
- Socks and underwear! (So important! Hand washing really does a number on clothes.)
- SMU alumni magazine!
- Chewy Granola bars!
- Crystal light packets!
- A few issues of the local paper! (including comics, of course)
- EIGHT spools of dark colored thread! (as requested! Thank you mom and Charity!)
- High school graduation announcement of my God sister, Krista!
- My brother's new business card for his new job!
- Letter from a little girl we sponsor in Colombia!

And last but not least....

- A beautiful little note from my mother!

Thank you!!

Angela's Ashes is on the right side of the photo next to the envelop in which it arrived. I love that it just says "Seibel, Abby/ Dar Chebab" and it finds its way to my box.

I love everything here, but if I had to pick a favorite it would be Granola bars. So delicious and simple and not available here...plus they don't melt!

I want to do a post on the breakfast cuisine of Ramadan but I need to remember to take my camera along to my next lftor!

SUMMER CAMP!

I recently got back from a Summer Camp in El Jadida, on the Atlantic coast of Morocco. This summer camp is sponsored by the Ministry of Youth and Sports and is an English Immersion Camp. This camp is generally for the more privileged kids in Morocco; it is very expensive and not far from Casablanca and Rabat. It is for high school kids ages 13-17.

Because it is supposed to be an English immersion camp, the ministry called on Peace Corps to provide access to native English speakers. In exchange for us volunteering as counselors, the ministry graciously provides each volunteer three scholarship spots to bring kids from our own towns/villages. This is a two-fold benefit: 1. two out of three of my scholarship kids, have never traveled outside our town, and none of them have gotten to go to a cool camp like this. I imagine this is true for almost all the kids brought by PCVolunteers. 2. The kids from the "big city" learn about their fellow countrymen who may come from towns and villages the Rabat/Casa kids have never heard of and live lives so different that it's difficult to imagine they're from they same country.

After the photos are a few stories of things I witnessed that made me laugh and warmed my heart.

These are the three kids I brought: Zakaria, Mehdi, and Hicham. (Don't worry, they're happy- it's just not customary to smile in photos)

I lead a Journalism club with 11 of the most advanced English speakers in the camp. At the end of the 10 day camp they had produced a newsletter and distributed a copy to every child at camp.

The U.S. Ambassador to Morocco and his wife, came and visited our camp one morning.

Brahim, the "gentle giant" referenced in the story below.

Miriam at the Supermarket: Erika and I are the only Youth Development PCVs in our province, so together we had six kids. Because our province is just about as far away as you can get from El Jadida, our six rode an overnight bus and were some of the first kids to arrive the first morning of camp. Erika and I decided that we had time to kill so we took them to the LaBel Vie supermarket to get some snacks. Not only was it probably their first time in a grocery story, but LaBel Vie is a really fancy store. Miriam, one of Erika's, took one look at the escalator we were about to get on and a look of “WHAT THE HECK IS THIS THING?!” flashed in her eyes. She didn't say a word, likely just to save face, but as soon as she stepped onto the escalator, she stumbled a little and then held on with two hands, nervously giggling the whole way down. The way back up we took the elevator. She didn't know where we were going when we stepped into this strange little room and pushed some buttons. She didn't seem to like when it moved because she didn't know what was happening but no word other than shock could describe the look on her face when the elevator doors opened and she was standing in front of a scene completely different from where we'd left. I felt like we were showing her the future.

Brahim and the Ocean: Brahim, dubbed as the “gentle giant” by the PCVolunteers who were at camp that session, is a participant that PCV Yusuf brought to camp with him. A luxury of the camp being in El Jadida is that the kids get to go to the beach everyday. Brahim, like most of the kids who were brought by PCVs, had never been to the ocean. The majority of them were scared of the water and almost none knew how to swim. Brahim, in particular, was adamant that the ocean water was unhealthy and would give you skin diseases. He refused to get in. At least on day one. Day two came along and somehow he had silently made the decision to “get in.” He stood there with his feet in the water and would go no further. Day three: Brahim jumped in the water, splashing and swimming in the waves with the rest of the kids! Every day after that you would never have been able to tell that Brahim had once been convinced that the ocean would make him, and everyone else, sick.

If I told you all the wonderful stories of minds being opened and friendships formed during camp, this blog would never end. Each volunteer could tell you stories of their own kids' transformations and joys from camp. I'll leave you with a picture of me and my friend Mohammed VI. I am looking forward to camp again next year and hopefully by then I'll be able to find some girls whose fathers will let them attend with me.