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."