18 Days!

Just gotta get this out first - I'll be home in 18 days!!

Now for the update. Since my last post, I've been a busy busy bee with all my English teaching. Today is one of my busier days: the morning is open, but this afternoon I play with the toddlers at the Neddi Niswi (women's center) for an hour (we played duck, duck, grey duck last week and they loved it!) then teach English to the women, then lead women's exercise at the Dar Chebab (youth center), and lastly run over to the Dar Talib and Dar Taliba (House of Boys and House of Girls) and teach English or fun activities for an hour. Phew!

The Dar Talib and Dar Taliba are similar to boarding schools, except the kids only live and eat there and attend school in town. The kids who stay there, are usually from villages very far away with no transportation, so they stay at the center during the week and return home for the weekend. The Dar Talib is home to 69 boys, ages 11-20. I always have fun there, but they can get kind of wild. It's hard to teach them English because they are all at different learning levels, so I usually lead some kind of game or activity. Their favorite game is "heads up, seven up" which we renamed "Good Morning." The Dar Taliba, on the other hand, is home to only 31 girls, and much more calmer and manageable. The girls are younger than the boys, ages 11-16, because around 15-16 girls begin dropping out of school. This is due to a lot of societal pressures, like helping around the house, getting a job, getting married, or sometimes because the education of girls is valued less than boys. One thing I have noticed about the girls, is that there is a definite hierarchy to the group. Where the boys just kind of mill around, playing or laughing, the girls seem to each have their position in the group. There are the older girls who are like mothers and protectors for the younger girls. And the younger girls hardly ever talk out of fear of being laughed at by the older girls. The older girls are actually a bit scary to me because they are very bossy and take-charge kind of people. Sometimes during the middle of a game, the alpha female will yell at me "NEW GAME." I usually don't stand for that kind of behavior though, and have asked her if she knew what the world "rude" meant. But, on the whole, the girls are very well-behaved and fun to teach.

After finishing up at the Dar Talib or Taliba its usually too late for a girl to be out alone at night, so a very nice man walks me home. He lives with the girls at the Dar Taliba and is probably around 60 years old. He is a bit unusual for Moroccans, because he has a pet dog. I can't remember the dog's name, but its something like Oscar. As we slowly walk to my house, the dog follows us and we talk about, what else, dogs. He seems convinced that American dogs are much more beautiful than Moroccan dogs, and I agree. The dogs here are are wild and I don't blame Moroccans for being so frightened of them. They run around in packs of twenty, looking for food and I would never want to be caught in their path, especially at night. When I first moved into my house, I would wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of dogs fighting over the contents of my trash can. The next morning, all my trash, and I mean ALL my trash, would be scattered all over the road. Embarrassing. So, I learned to only take my trash out at the exact time the trash man comes. Also, I have seen people rummaging through my trash as well...so I figure the fewer animals and humans to come in contact with my garbage, the better.

It's been cooling down lately and at first it was a welcome change from the smoldering heat of summer. But, now, it's just too darn cold. I have been wearing long underwear and scarves INSIDE my house to keep warm. Also, making a lot of soup and tea. I have to wonder if it's really that cold or if I've just acclimated to the Moroccan climate. I remember being cold during my homestay a year ago and it was a bit ridiculous then because I was a guest in somebody's home and couldn't just walk around in layers of clothes with hats and scarves. But, now, in the comfort of my own home, I can do whatever I like! Wear blankets! Have tea whenever I want, not just at tea-time! Lay in bed!

Anyway, I hope the Minnesota winter isn't too much of a shock! I'll be home December 16-31. Any friends interested in getting a burrito or a margarita, let me know! I hope to make it back to Jane Addams School for a night, too.

Happy Thanksgiving!

On Sunday, I celebrated Thanksgiving with a group of fellow volunteers. Since the actual holiday falls on a Thursday and is (duh) not celebrated in Morocco, we had to meet on the weekend. I woke up early in my town, got ready, and left by 8 am. I traveled about 2 1/2 hours by taxi to my friend Mandy's house and helped out in the kitchen. I worked on the garlic mashed potatoes, while others pitched in on the salad, green beans, stuffing, and the turkey. The turkey was purchased by Mandy from her host family. They delivered it to her, dead, but not as you buy yours from the supermarket. After spending a night alone with the dead bird, Mandy requested her family help her out a bit. They chopped off its head and feet and de-feathered it for her. Mandy had a pile of feathers in her kitchen when we arrived and we all festively wore them (after a good washing with bleach).

Mandy put the turkey in her tiny little electric oven around noon and basted it with chicken broth. We decided not to stuff the turkey with the stuffing because Chase is a vegetarian, so we made the stuffing later. Since there was only one oven, the pies and dinner rolls were made the day before and the stuffing was made last. I brought lemon bars that went with the pumpkin pie and chocolate pie. Everyone helped out in the kitchen and those who didn't, did the dishes later.

We ate dinner around 5 or 5:30 and after digesting for a while, we all went up to the roof for the ceremonial "tossing of turkey carcass over the roof." Everyone had been drinking wine so it seemed like a good idea at the time. Gavin heaved the carcass over the roof as we all watched. The pack of stray dogs in town must have ate well that night.

Returning downstairs, I pulled out my "pin the tail on the turkey" game and we sat around discussing the rules. With twelve people and only ten tails, we had to make a tough decision. Some of us thought it a good idea to vote two people out of the game, Survivor style. But, others thought it best if we all partnered up. In the end, we made two extra tails so everyone had a chance to play. We set up one room for the game and announced the rules. "Blindfolded. Five spins. NO SHAKING. Audience in the "gallery" may shout out directions to player, but wrong directions may be given, so think about who you trust." The first player was the hostess, Mandy, who went the wrong way down a hallway and ended up losing the game. We all had a really good time playing that game.

We also played card games and Mafia. Mafia is where you pass out cards and depending on which card you receive, you have to play out a certain character. There is Mafia, who "kill" people in the game, the Sheriff, who investigates, and the Doctor who can save lives. All the others are townspeople who are trying to win the game before the Mafia kill them all off.

All in all, it was a great Thanksgiving and I am thankful I was able to celebrate the holiday with such a fun group of volunteers. We had good food and good company. I will be thinking of you all back home on Thursday as I am leading my women's group in exercise and teaching English.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving and check out my new photos. See you all in less than a month!

A life of convenience

Last night was an important milestone in my life here. The supermarche opened downstairs. It is directly downstairs from my house. I can smell that familiar Moroccan hanut smell and Tide laundry detergent wafting up. I saw that is was open yesterday, walked in and when I did, the store owner said, "Jin! Say to me "Bismillah!" So, I said "Bismillah" which means "in the name of God" and we shook hands. It's like I gave him my blessing for his new store. Then, I walked slowly through the store, taking it all in. All the important food items in my life are there: diet coke, popcorn, pistachio yogurt, and the fake cheese. They don't have real cheese yet, and that's the one thing that would make me happier. I asked about it. I am also going to ask them for granola, red beans, and American chocolate. Then, I will never have reason to leave my town. This morning I woke up, walked downstairs in basically my pajamas along with my red Spiderman plastic house slippers and bought yogurt for breakfast. That was cool.

What was totally unexpected and weird was the girl who was working behind the counter asked me (albeit in French) if I worked for the Peace Corps. I was so surprised because nobody in my town understands what the Peace Corps is, not even my boss, so for somebody to ask me about it was really shocking. Apparently, she had worked for Peace Corps a few years ago in Ouarzazate and asked me if I knew a girl named "Stacy." This happens to me all the time. As if I would know all foreigners in this country because I am one myself. She said Stacy left Morocco a few years ago, so no, I don't know her.

After all, tomorrow is another day.

I cut my finger while doing the dishes tonight. Last week I had broken a glass in the sink and thought I had collected all the shards of glass, but one still remained stuck inside the drain. It was a pretty deep cut and after wrapping it in toilet paper I hurried to the town hospital to see if stitches were needed. Of course when I arrived, the hospital was closed. I took note of a group of men drinking tea outside the hospital and, as I suspected, one of the men sauntered into the hospital a little while later. That was the doctor.

Here begins my experience with the health care system in Morocco. Besides the hospital being closed when I arrived, I would give my experience there an overall high rating. I wasn’t sure if the hospital would even be open at 6:30 pm on a Saturday evening, but I had a feeling it would be open. I wasn’t asked my name or if I had insurance. (Not that that would matter here because everyone who lives here has free health insurance!) I showed the doctor my finger and mumbled in my pathetic Arabic that “I did something to myself.” He brought me into another room and told me to sit on the bed. I ignored what looked like droplets of blood and sat down. He put on plastic gloves and rubbed iodine on my cut. He still didn’t ask for my name, but he did ask me where I lived. He asked me if I could speak French and laughed when I told him I only spoke Arabic. He then quizzed me on my knowledge of the Berber language. I told him I didn’t know anything, but when I produced the right answer for the word “bread” he said I was already practically fluent. He put some mystery cream that looked like peanut butter on my cut, wrapped it up, and that was it. When I asked him if I needed to pay him, he laughed at me and said, “For a little bandage? No, I didn’t do anything.” Thanking him, I left feeling bewildered. How different that was than anything I’ve ever experienced at home.

I had another little surprise earlier in the day, too. There have been two men knocking down the wall in the apartment next door. I had just adjusted to the idea of the dentist working next door to me and now this? After two days of constant hammering and pounding and jumping over piles of concrete, I asked them what they were building. Where there had been one big apartment, they were making a wall to divide the apartment into two apartments. I asked if they knew who would be living there and the first guy didn’t know, but the second guy was pretty certain a gendarme (policeman) would be moving in. (nooooooooo!!!) Feeling forlorn, I walked downstairs to bitch to my friend in the bakery. Before I made it there, I ran into my muldar (landlord) who had no idea what the other guy was talking about and assured me that nobody would be moving in any time soon. He said the other guy was just “talking.” Hmmm, a common phenomenon here. I have learned to not always put stalk in all the things people tell me here. It’s about saving face. Rather than giving somebody a potentially wrong answer, or admitting you don’t know, you make something up.

I them made it to the bakery, watched the Addams Family with my friend and was about to leave when an old Berber woman walked in. She yelled to nobody in particular, “A Christian! That’s a Christian!” (Calling somebody a Christian is just an old-fashioned way of pointing out a white person) I was a little annoyed because it was the market day, which meant that the town was full of people who liked pointing and laughing at the American girl. I smiled at her and greeted her in Arabic to which she exclaimed to, again nobody in particular, “She speaks Arabic!” Then I’m pretty sure she was making fun of me when she asked if I could send her to France. I told her it wasn’t possible for me to send her to France and she asked me why. I told her I didn’t even have enough money to send myself to France, so she’d have to find another way. She then asked me if I prayed. Since Ramadan, I have been asked this question a lot. Especially when people learned I was fasting, their next question would always be about praying. When they ask this, they don’t mean just praying to God, they mean praying 5 times a day with prostration. I usually respond to this by saying, “I pray, just not like how you do.” Usually people respect this and move on. Today was a different story. The woman in the bakery did not understand why I wouldn’t want to be a Muslim. I finally told her that I believe in one God and that it’s the same God she believes in. This seemed to appease her. At this point, it should have been pretty clear to her that I could speak Arabic fairly well, so when she turned to her friend and called me “ugly” I got a little mad. I asked her why I was ugly and she laughed and said I was beautiful. Whatever. She then pointed at my clothes and said I was a good dresser. This comment really caught me off guard because if any of you know a thing about dressing in Morocco, you’d know that it’s not easy for me and it’s one of the things that stresses me out the most. Also, she had just called me ugly. I was dressed pretty conservatively that day with a baggy long-sleeved top and flowy pants. I think she was making fun of me the entire time we were talking, but I can’t be sure. Today was just one of those days, I guess. Some days are harder than others and this definitely was a day that tested my patience.

After all, tomorrow is another day! As Scarlett said in Gone with the Wind, and as my friend Jackie reminded me the other day.

It's Called Common Sense!

So, big news in the neighborhood. I'm getting a new neighbor. When I first learned this, I was very disappointed and hoped it wasn't true. I like my little sanctuary here. I can escape here and enjoy the small pleasures my life here allows, like listening to American music, exercising on my roof, or walking around in a tank top and shorts. My landlord told me it would be a man and his wife.

Then, a few days later as I was talking to the man who owns the bakery downstairs, I found out that it wasn't a man and his wife, but rather a dentist, or "doctor of teeth" as we say here. So, instead of gaining two neighbors who would be infiltrating my world, I am instead getting a man, his professional place of business, and his entire clientèle. Great. There is one door downstairs that opens up to a flight of stairs and three apartments. Basically, from now on, anybody off the street will be able to gain access to my house.

If this totally upsets my way of life here, I will move. Moving would have its perks. I would find a house located on a less-frequented road. Find a little peace and quiet. But, hauling all my stuff across town and readjusting to a new house sounds unappealing.

So, today I was feeling a little better about the situation. I had a good talk with the tooth man, who told me not to worry or be scared. Then, immediately following this conversation, he left and locked me inside of my house. Prior to this, I had told him to be gentle with the lock to the outside door. I had finally perfected the right touch to opening and closing it and had warned him many times about how tricky it could be. A few times I would catch him jamming his key in and jiggling it around. Then, today he broke the lock, locked me inside and ignored me when I told him that jamming the key inside wasn't going to solve the problem. Together, me on the inside and him on the outside, we finally opened the door. He said right there and then he was going to buy us a new lock. I went back upstairs and half an hour later returned to check on his work progress. He was gone and the door had been left wide open. I closed the door, probably locking myself inside again, went back upstairs and waited and three hours later am still waiting.....

Back in time for Ramadan

After some work-related traveling, I'm back in my site with two more weeks of Ramadan to go! I tried fasting and lasted about five days. It's hard! No food or water from 5 am until 6:30 pm! It was a good experience because I learned what it must be like to go hungry all day and also understand better how the Moroccans must feel during this month. I wish I could have stuck it out longer, but I couldn't.

The first day of Ramadan I spent fasting with my extended host family. I rode my bike out to their douar (village) the night before Ramadan began. We ate spaghetti for dinner and went to bed around 11:30 pm because we would be waking up very early the next day. Around 3:30 am a siren went off to wake everyone. The women got up and started preparing the last meal before the official fasting began. Everyone else, including myself, woke up around 4:00 am to eat a tajine. It was very strange eating a heavy meal at 4 in the morning. I drank as much water as I could and brushed my teeth before crawling back into bed. At 5:00 am we heard the first call to prayer (there are five each day) and the first day of Ramadan began. While my family prayed together, I was trying to fall asleep, but found it hard with the full tummy and all the thoughts spinning through my mind: would I be able to last all day? What was I getting myself into?

I finally fell asleep and slept in until 10:30 am. Usually the first thing I do in the morning as part of my daily routine is drink a big glass of water, but not that day! I basically spent my day lazily counting down until breakfast at 6:30 pm. I watched arabic television, tried reading Harry Potter, took a two hour nap, played with my two host twin cousins, and helped prepare the breakfast. Around 5:00 I couldn't even stand anymore without feeling light-headed, so I sat and waited. At that point, I felt no hunger or thirst, mainly just emptiness.

At the call to prayer signifying the end of fasting, I ran into the salon where my host cousin stood smiling and handed me a date. It is tradition to break the fast with dates, so I ate three. Then I chugged a ton of water. My host grandma yelled at me and said I shouldn't drink too much water because it would fill me up and leave no room for food. Ha! The first thing I ate/drank was hirara. Hirara is my favorite soup in Morocco! It is only served during Ramadan and is so delicious. Its a tomato-based soup with lentils, chickpeas, cilantro, lemon, and pieces of meat. I had one and half bowls. Then I ate a hard-boiled egg, which I seasoned with salt and cumin. After that, shebekia. Shebekia is another Ramadan special, and another favorite of mine. It is a cookie that is very very sweet and made with tons of honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds. After all this wonderful food, I was feeling full, but that was not the end of our meal. Next, they brought out a giant platter of baked and fried fish. I tried to eat as much as I could, but I was so full! After being scolded by my host grandma for not eating enough fish, they brought a heavy yellow cake. Then, we all drank a coffee.

While everyone was munching happily on Ramadan goodness, we watched the Moroccan tv channel. Besides the food, this is another favorite Ramadan past-time of mine! During Ramadan this channel shows special Moroccan shows that I can actually understand because they are speaking Moroccan arabic. Normally, most shows are in French or Standard Arabic, so this as a language-learner, this is an exciting time to see if all those tutoring hours are paying off! Last year, my favorite show was "Multaxi." The word Multaxi means taxi driver, so the show featured a Moroccan taxi driver and all his crazy adventures. Unfortunately, this show was canceled this year. Probably the best show this year is one called "L3awni" which means God help me. It is a show about a man whose name is "God help me" and his family and each episode they cook up some scheme that ultimately fails or surprisingly succeeds. There is another show about a woman police officer who specializes in forensics, its kind of like CSI, and probably the only Moroccan show that somewhat resembles an American sitcom. They talk fast and use a forensics-themed vocabulary, so that show is harder to follow.

Once everyone was good and full, almost everyone went to the mosque to pray. They were probably gone for two hours and when they returned I went home. I was exhausted and wanted to get back to my house because the next morning I would be leaving early for Fes. Around 10:30, 11 or midnight, depending on the family, dinner is eaten and then everyone goes to sleep and the whole process is continued! Talk about a total change in your sleeping/eating/working pattern! My first day of Ramadan, I didn't eat dinner because I was still too full from breakfast.

The next morning I began my two-day journey to Fes, where I gave a presentation for the newly arrived group of volunteers. They had only been in country for one week and still seemed to be adjusting to the shock of being in Morocco. (Which I still am, to this day!) After my presentation I had a meeting in Rabat. I'm the representative for my training group in the Volunteer Support Network, so I sat in on a few meetings and now find myself back in my town, looking forward to getting back to work with my kids at the Dar Chebab!

Guest Post from Megan

Safely back in Minnesota after an incredible 2 1/2 week vacation with her in Morocco, I'm writing this guest post for Jenny. The purpose of the post is to let you all know what we did on our adventure and to give you my impression I got of Jenny's life over there. After arriving in Agadir, I walked across the tarmac to enter the airport and go through immigration. I passed onto the baggage claim, where I needed to collect my backpack and the suitcase of presents for Jenny, before I could dash out to hug Jenny. My backpack showed up quickly and then I waited anxiously for the suitcase. All I wanted to do was run out to where Jenny was waiting to greet her but I needed the luggage first. It then became apparent that there were no more suitcases coming. I should say that I know NO French or Arabic, the languages that makes things go in Morocco. Someone pointed me towards an office where I was ignored as everyone else with the appropriate language skills were helped first. My first lesson about Morocco began here: there is no concept of a line. Whoever is the pushiest (elbows are allowed) and most assertive will be served first, according to Jenny. After everyone cleared out, it was me and one man remaining. He knew a very little bit of English so I wrote down my address in the US and gave him the baggage ticket. I kept trying to tell him that my sister was just a few feet away and could speak Arabic, but he did not understand. Frustrated, I took a piece of paper from him and hurried out to FINALLY greet Jenny. After a good hug, I told her what happened. My second lesson about Morocco followed: Jenny knows an amazing amount of Arabic and this helps make things happen. She marched up to the security guard and before I knew it we went the wrong way through customs and security back to the little office and the man who helped me. Jenny and him talked and she got the whole story. Lesson two continued when Jenny translated for me and said that before he explained things, she first had to have "the conversation." Even though I know no Arabic, throughout the trip I began to recognize this conversation that Jenny had with, oh, maybe, 8,000 people. The Moroccan would be shocked and amazed at Jenny's Arabic and ask any combination of the following questions: "Where did you learn arabic?" "Do you live here?" "Where do you live? Then followed by a name-nearby-Moroccan-cities game. "What's your name?" "Who's that? She doesn't know any Arabic? (pointing at me) "What are you doing here?" And the occasional, "I have a relative in 'insert US state here' comment." When this conversation happened at various market stalls or hotels, Jenny was frequently told she was getting a better price because she spoke Arabic so well. So I was able to tell my dad that we were really saving a lot of money on the trip :) Jenny and I spent the first few days on our trip at her site. This was probably my favorite part of the trip because I got to see Jenny's apartment, where she works, where she buys her chicken, meet her host family, and the people in her life there. Her town was actually a little bigger than I expected, even though it is still very small. There is a large road that goes through it directly to an airport so there is a lot of traffic and that makes it seem busier and bigger than it really is. Her apartment is really nice and she's made it very homey. She made me a neat welcome sign that made me feel at home right away. Even though Jenny told me she's a bit of a celebrity in her town, I only truly believed her upon arrival. So many people approached her on the street to greet her and I quickly learned lesson number three. Lesson number three: Jenny is well taken care of in Morocco. She has many host family members, Peace Corps friends and Moroccan friends that were constantly checking up on her. One time the police in her town even called her because they didn't know for sure where we went. Even though we had told them a day or two before that we were leaving to travel around. It was very reassuring to see so many people caring about Jenny. I was able to help my mom relax when I came home and told her all of that. After time in Jenny's site, we began our travels through Morocco. We hit the following cities: Agadir, Marrakech, Essaouira, Marrakech again to get to Rabat, Tangier, and finally Chefchouen. My favorite cites, and I think Jenny's too, were Essaouira and Chefchouen, in case anyone is still hoping to visit Jenny. I liked Essaouira a lot because it was on the ocean and was a smaller city that was really laid back. There is a type of music called Ganoua music that comes out of Essaouira that is a fusion of jazz, reggae, and Moroccan, that attracts a lot of hippies. There was a mini Ganouwa festival there while we were there that we got to see and hear. Chefchouen is way in the north of Morocco in the Rif Mountians. This city was also a really laid back small city that didn't attract a lot of tourist, but a lot of travelers. Jenny and I talked about the difference between a tourist and a traveler. Tourists tend to come in large groups, wear stickers with their tour company name on it, talk loudly in a foreign language not spoken in Morocco, and they don't go off the beaten track or try anything that's not in the Lonely Planet book. Travelers however are generally younger people who don't stay in one city during their vacation but rather travel to see unique places in a country that are maybe lesser known. Anyhow, both Essaouira and Chefchouen had awesome shopping opportunities, another reason I liked them so much. A lot of buildings and sidewalks are painted this bright blue color in Chefchouen that gives it a clean, fun look. I could go on forever about our trip as I have two and a half weeks of great memories to share. If anyone would like to hear more, just ask because I'd love an audience to share everything with. I will also try and post some photos from the trip to help Jenny out.

One Year in Country!

September 12 marks the day I first arrived in Morocco! I can hardly believe that a year has passed by so quickly! Time passes in funny increments here. Long moments, long days, and long nights, followed by quick weeks, quick months, and quick travels. Summer as a whole, just flew by. I spent a month at the summer youth camp, returned to my town for a few days, and then spent the next two weeks traveling with my sister Megan.

The trip with Megan was a blast. There were many times when I was reminded of my first impressions of Morocco a year ago. Megan helped me remember how quickly things happen in the United States. Here, time is a minor detail. An invitation for lunch may mean sitting around for three or four hours. Getting people organized to do something can take an entire week. Going to the “chicken man” may mean waiting for him to butcher the chicken, clean it, and chop it up for you. Running errands can take hours if you stop to talk to everyone you meet on the street. Washing laundry is an entire day of work. Cooking everything from scratch is the evening’s meal and entertainment.

Being here for a year now, it really is the amount of free time I enjoy the most. Because cannot leave my house past sundown (for cultural reasons only) every night is my special time to do whatever I feel like. I have a crafts corner in my house now. I try new recipes. I read books for fun. I clean my house for fun. I sit and think about my life here. I sit and think about my future and where my life will lead me next. I daydream stories, travel plans, work ideas. I think when I return to the United States, it will be these moments of complete solitude I will miss most. Of course, the quantity of complete solitude is one of the most challenging things to deal with as a Peace Corps volunteer.

These contradicting blessings and burdens are the most important lessons being a Peace Corps volunteer has taught me. The things I find the most difficult are usually the very same things that reward me most. Learning Darija (Moroccan Arabic) has been probably the most challenging thing I have ever done in my 24 years of life. But, at the same time, the most rewarding thing I have ever accomplished. The greatest compliment I can receive here in Morocco, is when a Moroccan congratulates me on learning Darija. Understanding and finding my place in my community has also been testing, but those moments when my hard work brings forth rewards, I couldn’t be happier. One day as I walked past the taxi stand in my town I overheard a Moroccan man say to another, “Who is that?” To which the other guy replied, almost bored, “Oh, her? She’s one of us.” I walked with a smile on my face that day. Finding work in my community continues to be both easy and tough at the same time. Teaching myself how to cook by trial and error has been both tiring and satisfying. I have grown so much this past year and still have so much growing ahead of me – fifteen more months of service to complete.

Of course, Megan brought with her a little bit of a reality check! She was never slow to remind me of how my living alone has made me a lot more chill. And let’s face it, probably more weird! But, still the same Jenny. Our trip together was one of those times you will never forget as long as you live. Showing Megan my world here almost verified it for me as, indeed, my life. She met the everyday people in my life: the chicken man, the taxi man, the garden man, the people at the Dar Chebab (youth center), my host family, my friends. She experienced the routine details of my life: She ate the food I eat, she heard the language I speak, she suffered through the heat, she ate with her hands, and yes, she squatted on my Turkish toilet.

Megan has promised to write a guest entry on my blog recapping our adventures together from her perspective, so I won’t go into much detail about our trip in this letter. She took most of the pictures on her camera, so you all might have to wait a while to see them posted online. Maybe I can convince her to post them for me, as my internet is much slower than the DSL you all are used to!

As I reflect back on my first year in Morocco, I am happy with what I have accomplished and eager to do even more work this coming year. I understand now why Peace Corps is a 27-month commitment. There is no way a person could learn the language, cultural norms, and do development work in their community within a year’s limit. The first year really is about settling in, learning the language, and learning your place in the community. This next year I feel finally equipped with the knowledge necessary to begin my real work here: youth development.

Thanks to all of you for your support. Thanks for the emails, the cards, the care packages, and prayers. Just to reassure you all, I am doing great here. I have a nice house, I cook good meals, and I have friends and people who look out for me in my community. Also, for those of you who want to visit, I urge you to start making your travel plans! You only have one year left to come to Morocco in order to experience something totally unique! Marhaba bikum f Dar 3ndi! (You are all welcome at my house!)

Also, if you haven’t heard from my parents, I am planning on coming home for Christmas this year. I should be around for two weeks, but don’t know the exact dates yet. So, definitely plan on treating me to an iced frappacino or burrito!

Peace to you all,

Jenny

Getting Ready!

Last weekend I left camp and did a little sight-seeing on my way back home. I traveled through Essaouira, another coastal town between Casablanca and Agadir. I think Essaouira is my favorite city in Morocco. The city has a truly unique feeling to it, unlike any other Moroccan city. It's a port city, so there are old ramparts to go exploring around with a great view of the Purples Isles. While looking at the islands, I talked to a Moroccan man who was selling his paintings. I actually remembered the word for island and he told me about the islands. One of them has an old prison and mosque He also said the island was conquered by both the Phoenicians and Portuguese. Nowadays, it is home to a large falcon population. I was really surprised by how much of this conversation I understood.

I also enjoyed strolling through the souk area. The majority of the city is contained within its ancient medina walls. It is kind of cool to think about a time when people only lived within the walls, a time when people were fighting and protecting their land from the conquest of outsiders. The souk had some fabulous shopping opportunities. Because Essaouira is home to one of the world's largest music festivals, Gnawa, there is a huge artistic influence and tons of great little shops. I bought a new shirt, tote bag, and pair of Amazigh (berber) earrings.

Supposedly, there is an excellent fish market, but because of my poor little volunteer budget, I had to stick to the common man's food. One night while eating a falafel sandwich, the electricity in the medina went out. I was eating with three other volunteers and we sat there for a while in the dark, but then we realized that the chances of the lights coming back on were slim. We were imagining the souk would be very dangerous in complete darkness: people ransacking the shops, stealing pastries from the bakery, pickpocketing, etc. So, we came up with a plan: we would all walk in a line, holding on to the person's shoulders in front of us. If any stranger tried touching us, we would just punch our arms into the darkness. "Just punch!" So, we paid for our sandwiches and headed out into the darkness. What we found was a slightly less chaotic than we imagined, but still a functioning dark souk. So, the "just punch" idea went out the window. However, I guess the darkness gave Moroccan men more confidence, because I was verbally harassed more than usual.

I spent two days in Essaouira, then traveled by souk bus (big mistake!) to Agadir. I traveled with my friend Chase. Our first mistake was deciding to travel by souk bus, the second mistake was the seats we chose to sit in. On the sunny side of the bus, I was constantly battling with the curtain, wanting to see the fantastic views we were passing, but not wanting to die from the heat. Along the way, the bus pulled over for a lunch break. It was a little town up in the mountains that probably never sees any tourists (as most tourists are smarter than us and do not choose to travel by souk bus-the problem with these buses are that they stop at every town along the way to drop off and pick up people.) and stepping off the bus we found the closest hanut (store) to buy some cold beverages. We were greeted by a small group of teenage boys who were very interested in talking to us. We talked with them a bit, got a marriage proposal from the Mulhanut (store owner), and when it was time to get back on the bus, the boys asked if they could take a picture with us. We laughed and posed with them alongside the road, "Peace and Love!" we said as we all held up peace symbols and the letter "L". The boys asked some random guy to take our picture but this man had obviously never used a camera before in his life. He just pointed it in any old direction, not even aware of the viewfinder, and took pictures of the sky, our feet, and the road. We said our goodbyes and then were surprised to find the boys follow us onto the bus! It turns out they were leaving their town to travel down to Agadir for vacation. It was fun watching them on the bus because they were so excited as we passed everything and taking pictures.

I've been back in my site now for five days. My house was very dusty and hot when I walked inside. Since I got back, I've been cleaning, washing clothes, and rearranging furniture. I want my house to look the best it ever has because in just three days I will be hosting my first guest from America! My sister Megan will be coming for a long visit! We will spend some time in my town, see "the sites," meaning my house, Dar Chebab, my host family's house, the farm, and maybe the souk. Then, we will embark on a long journey north. Our itinerary will take us from the steamy south to the coastal beauty of the Mediterranean. I will make sure Megan takes plenty (and I mean hundreds) of pictures to share with you all when she gets back! Thanks Megan, you'll be doing half of my job educating the good people of the United States about Morocco and its people!

So, next time I post it will be September, so stay tuned!
Thanks to everyone for their continuing support!
Jenny

Still at Camp!

Hi Everyone!

It's been a while since my last post, but I have been extremely busy at the summer youth camp! I have been here for a month now and will be leaving in two days. In the past month, I have worked two camp sessions. The sessions take a lot out of us volunteers because we work very long, busy days.

Here is a normal day at camp for the volunteers: wake up for breakfast (bread and butter with coffee) at 8am, prepare for morning announcements at 8:45, English classes from 9-10:30, go to beach from 11-12:30. Lunch (tajine with bread) at 1:30. Free time (hanging out with kids, reading with them, making friendship bracelets, playing music, sports) 2-3:30. 3:30-5 American Club time (I taught arts and crafts both sessions), 5:00 snack (mint tea and crackers or piece of bread), 5:45-7 Moroccan activities (usually sports), 8:00 Dinner (the worst meal, consisting of soup (sometimes made out of flour and water) and usually weiners in tomato sauce. Or pasta. And usually served with a mini-cup of yogurt). 9-11 Evening activity (Moroccan or American led) 11:00 BEDTIME!

Last night was probably the best evening activity I've seen at either of the camps. We put together an American Halloween Night. Everyone wore costumes, we made a haunted house, and had activities like bob for apples, face painting, and trick-or-treating. The kids had a blast! I worked in the haunted house and scared kids. I hid behind a sheet that looked like a wall and grabbed people and screamed at them. The best part of the night was when the grounds keeper, an old man who lives at the camp and sees to its upkeep, was prowling around the exit to the haunted house and when he poked his head in to look around I grabbed him through the sheet and screamed at him. He stumbled backward with his mouth open, and quickly walked away. Then later on, the Moroccan camp coordinator walked through the exit and I scared him as well. This didn't go over as well. He glared at me and then another Moroccan counselor said, "Hshuma 3lik" which means shame on you. C'mon, it's Halloween!

Today and tomorrow are the last days of camp. We will have a final spectacular tomorrow night and then Thursday morning the kids will all leave. I will be leaving as well. My friend Chase and I plan on doing some traveling together on our way back home. We haven't decided where to go yet, but it will definitely be a beach town.

When I get back to my site, I'll be busy unpacking, cleaning, and getting ready for Megan! My sister Megan will be visiting me for two weeks in August! Yippie! If any of you back home would like to send something along with her to give to me, now is your chance! I posted a wish list a few months ago and recently I gave my parents an updated list.

Please check out my online photos! I have posted some from camp! Sorry I have not been very good about my blog posts or sending emails. Once I get back to my site, after Megan's trip is over, I plan on being much better about sending real snail mail. This first year has been so busy, and I really wish I had sent out more real mail. This second year I will do better!

Keep me updated on everything on the homefront! Happy Birthday, Owen! Hope everyone is having a great summer! See you soon, Megan!

summer update

Hello Everyone!

It's late afternoon and 85 degrees inside my house, with all the windows closed. It's hot, but not hot yet. A few weeks ago we experienced a heat wave with temps around 105, but it's cooled off since then. Sometimes it will be late at night, like 11 pm and my house is still so hot there's sweat rolling down my back, face, legs, arms. But, seriously, it's not so bad yet. Every time I complain to a Moroccan, they laugh at me and respond with, "it's not even summer yet."

So, I spent the last week and a half in Agadir at a training seminar for volunteers. I was happy to be reunited with the volunteers I trained in with back in September. We hadn't seen each other for six months, so there was a lot of catching up to do. Unfortunately, I got sick, so spent most of the time in my hotel room asleep.

I'm back at my site now and and still fighting off bacteria or stress or whatever it is that has taken control of my body. I will be here for another week working, or not-working if kids don't show up, and then it's off to the Summer Youth Camp! I am so excited to be working the youth camp. I get to escape the heat of summer and spend one month on the coast playing with kids on the beach. It's going to be great. It's probably going to be exhausting, too, but I got a taste of the camp experience at Spring Camp, so I am better prepared this time around.

I will work two camps, each fifteen days, for a total of one month. Then, Inshallah, my sister Megan will be visiting me during the month of August! I am already dreaming of the things we'll do together! Hopefully, traveling won't be so uncomfortable during the hottest month of the year, but we'll have to be prepared for anything.

Right now, I gotta do something about the fly situation in my house. It's a constant battle, but right now there are like eight tiny flies, I'm thinking newborns, and I need to find some orange peels to scare them away. I'll write more later!

Thanks to everyone for the packages, letters, emails, and support!
Love,
Jenny

New Pictures

Check out the new pictures I posted. Yesterday I threw an end of the year party for my students at the Dar Chebab. About 12 showed up. Lately, the numbers have been dwindling, so it didn't surprise me. Besides, they are my best and favorite students, so we had a good time together.

Jack Chirac

Today Jack Chirac drove through my town. It was a pretty big deal for all of us. I first noticed something different around 2:30 this afternoon. The usual hustle and bustle of the street below had died down to just a lone whistle being blown. I looked out the window to find the local "police" redirecting traffic, or rather, waving them over to the side of the road and asking them to please wait there. I hurried downstairs to ask my friend what was going on. She said Jack Chirac would be driving through today. So, we pulled up two plastic chairs and sat on the curb, waiting. So did the rest of the town. People lined the streets, looking to the west. After a while, a few gendarmes flew by on their cop-cycles, followed by some SUVs, a few Mercedes, and then one black limousine. I'd like to say that we all cheered as he quickly passed by, but it was more anti-climatic than that. After he passed, the guy next to us at the chicken store asked us, "daz?" meaning, "he passed?" to which, I replied, "iyea, daz."

the beast

For Jenny, the other night was the same as every Saturday night. Quiet. She did all her usual Saturday night activities, which sadly just include popping popcorn and eating it while reading a book. Nothing too out of the ordinary. She got ready for bed and just as she sat down on her bed, she heard the most unsettling noise coming from inside her house.

Meeeeoooow.

Not being a cat-loving person or owning one of her own, Jenny bolted into action. She raced out of her room, threw on her plastic house slippers and grabbed what she thought would be her best defense against this intruder. The broom. She quickly raced out the front door and into the hallway, rapping the broom against the walls.

Meeeeoooow.

This time it came from the stairway. She flicked on the light switch and sprinted up the stairs, still rapping the broom against the walls. As she made her ascent to the roof, she heard its cry once more from above. It sounded like a very old, dejected cat. When she placed her first step onto the roof, fear caught in her throat as she finally laid her eyes upon the beast. Obese and filthy, its haunted eyes looked directly at Jenny.

Both beast and woman recognized one another from their initial stumble upon earlier in the week. (On that particular morning, the beast had startled Jenny as she had hung her clothes. Both terrified of each other, the beast jumped from the roof onto a neighbor’s window and departed.) As they stared into each other’s eyes, cat and human were stuck in some kind of inter-species face-off.

Finally, breaking from the cat’s eerie hold on her, Jenny ever-so-slowly glanced down towards the cat’s paws and saw it. The dead cat head. Ever since moving into her house, Jenny had been working up the nerve to dispose of the disgusting vestiges of this cat skull. Its skeleton had long since departed, but somehow only its old lifeless cranium remained. Attempts had been made at removing it, but each time some odd occurrence would unfold. The first attempt Jenny was unable to locate the skull. The wind seemed to blow it all over the rooftop and sometimes, the skull would be missing for days at a time. And for this reason, Jenny feared the skull and chose to ignore it from that day on.

However, it seemed the beast had other plans for its fellow deceased feline friend. Scooping the skull into its jaws, the beast took one last look at Jenny with its yellow eyes and jumped from the roof onto an old television antenna and scaled its way up to the adjacent roof. Then with a flick of its, tail, the beast departed into the night.

Still clutching her broom, Jenny took a deep breath, closed the door to the roof and headed off to bed. Exhausted from this freak encounter, she quickly fell to sleep.

Days later, Jenny once again made her way up the stairs with a load of wet clothes ready to be dried. With her arms full, she struggled to open the door without dropping any of the clothing. Making her way over to the clothesline, Jenny tripped but kept walking and turned her head around to get a look at what had caused her to trip. Probably a clothespin. Panic jolted her as she looked down and saw it: the dead cat head.

It had returned.

???Questions???

This week marks six months at my site and eight months in country. With all this knowledge and wisdom, I am giving you all a chance to ask me questions! Ask me anything at all, and I will answer it. Questions about Morocco, the people, the religion, the food, the language, etc. No question is a stupid one. For example, "Jenny, I heard people do not use toilet paper there. Is that true?" Yes, that is true and on a number of occasions I have been forced to do the same due to my own lack of planning and being at others' homes. So, I am sure you all have loads of questions stored up, so get busy!

Marriage Proposals and Converting to Islam

Just a quick post today before I run over to the Dar Chebab to teach!

Yesterday at my adult english class we had some extra time so spent the remainder of class speaking in Arabic, so I could get some extra practice. This class is all men, mostly thirty to forty years old. They made it very clear that they do not want me to ever leave this town. They said when I try to leave in 2008 they will go on a hunger strike in protest! Then, they told me that I should live the rest of my life here and should marry somebody here. They asked if there was anybody I liked, and when I said no, they said they will just put their names in a hat and I will draw a name and the winner will get the prize of me as a bride! Haha, funny, but I think they were partially serious because they told me to think about it and get back to them. Not so funny!

Then, after class I sat with the girl who works in the bakery downstairs and she tried convincing me to marry a Moroccan man AND convert to Islam. She said I am more than welcome to join Islam and she would be worried about me when I die if I don't convert.

Okay, that's it for today - I have five minutes to get to the Dar Chebab! I will write more later, and I might be getting internet at my house...maybe today! Cross your fingers!

MEGA UPDATE!

It’s been way too long and some of you are starting to harass me with emails asking if I am still walking amongst the living. Time has been speeding by, and the months of March and April have come and gone already. Here is what I have been up to the past two months:

Spring Camp

New Program at Dar Chebab

Trip to Spain!

I was at Spring Camp for almost two weeks from the last week in March to the second week in April. There are spring camps all over Morocco for youth and the camp I participated in was an English immersion camp. It was collaboration between a Moroccan and American staff. The PC Volunteers were responsible for teaching English and leading clubs. I taught the advanced English class and my students were brilliant! We talked about utopia! Most of my students were between the ages of 11-15 and they really impressed me with their command of the English language. I also helped out with both the yoga club and the arts and crafts club.

The best part of camp was that 24 kids from my town attended. Only one of the campers was a student of mine from my English classes; the rest of the campers were new to me and it was a great opportunity to get to know them and get them excited about coming to the Dar Chebab in our town.

Now, because of the new friends I made at camp, I have a new program starting at the Dar Chebab. My weeks are going to be really busy from now on, which is great, and I am excited to get started. I am offering my English classes, as usual, but in addition to that, I am starting a fashion club, game club, jewelry club, girls’ aerobics, and music and dance club. The fashion club had its first official meeting last week. In attendance were four boys and five girls and we made designs for outfits by cutting up pieces of paper and gluing them together. There is one boy in the fashion club who I like to call my little diva because he is the reason the club exists. I am not sure where this fashion club will take us, but the kids have tons of ideas and I have a few as well, so it should keep us busy. I am a little nervous about dance club, because the kids want me to teach them "how to dance like hip hop" and I am not sure what that entails. But, I figure, I convinced myself that I am a skilled aerobics instructor, so why not dance, too? Eeek!

After less than a week spent at my site, I packed up my backpack again and took eight days of vacation! As a volunteer I accrue two days of vacation for every month serves, so I took almost all of my days and met my friend Jackie in Spain. We met in Madrid and traveled to Barcelona together. It was great to see Jackie after such a long time! It was my first time to Spain as well, and I was really impressed with Barcelona. Madrid was okay, but I thought Barcelona had more to offer.

Now, I have been back at my site for about a week and a half and am keeping busy with the new clubs. When I returned from camp, I found my Dar Chebab was under construction! My classroom had been torn down and in its place a newer and bigger classroom is being built. I am really happy about this, but currently, it is causing some problems because I no longer have a classroom to teach in and have been holding classes in a nearby Diabetes Association. Hopefully, the construction will end shortly, but it is hard to tell. People give me all kinds of answers and usually they involve the phrase "Inshallah" meaning "if god wills it." So, god willing, we will have a new classroom open next month! I am crossing my fingers! Come on, Allah!

Today was just an ordinary day in my town. I went to the Dar Chebab for fashion club and nobody showed up. Very typical. I stood outside waiting for about half an hour and then gave up and walked to the store. I love shopping in my town. There are hanuts (stores) on every block, but I have my favorite hanut that I visit weekly. It is my favorite because of the people who work there and also there is a really good selection there. I can find cereal, real cheese, tri-color pasta, and skim milk there. But, even if the selection was less, I would still go there, because the people are so friendly. When I enter, the man behind the counter happily greets me and as I make my way through the store, I am greeted by two or three other workers. Walking the ten feet to the back of the store, I am closely followed and handed a shopping basket, which is kind of special. No other hanut hands out shopping baskets. Then, as I stand in front of any of the four shelves, I ponder what I should buy while the workers stand loyally nearby. Today I stood in front of the tea selection and within 30 seconds, and was asked, “Do you want tea?” To which I responded, “Yes, but which one is zwin?” I know which one I want to buy, but I still like talking to the workers about the tea and which one they like best. Today I bought yogurt, cheese, tea, milk, tomato sauce, tuna and spaghetti. While the counter-worker totaled my expenses by hand on a piece of paper, another worker told me there was another kind of spaghetti that was much better and went back to retrieve the other kind. The grand total: 65 Durhams, or $6.50 US Dollars. Another great thing about shopping in Morocco is if for some reason I didn’t have enough money to pay for my groceries, they will just write down my total in a small notebook and whenever I want I can return and pay them. Some people only pay once a month or so.

On my way home from the store, I heard my name being called and turned to find a girl running towards me. I couldn’t remember where I had seen her before, but it soon came back to me. A long time ago I went for lunch at a girl’s house who lived an hour walk outside of town and this was her friend. After that day, every time I ran into Fahida, she would try to shanghai me into going to her house. Usually, I accept invitations for lunch, but bad timing has always made me decline her invitations. One time she got me as far as her front door and begged me to come inside, but I absolutely had to go to work. So, today was the day for lunch at Fahida’s house. She latched on tightly to my arm, not wanting to lose me this time, and we walked to her house.

At the house I was greeted by her mom, and realized I was in for a treat. I am still and probably always will be a bit of a novelty here and people are just amazed and thrilled when they learn I can speak and understand Arabic. Such was the case today. Fahida’s mom expressed her delight by petting my head, slapping me on the back, and poking my stomach like the Pillsbury Doughboy. After finishing lunch, she insisted that I didn’t eat enough and told me that I must have a smaller stomach than Moroccan people. I assured her, that I had a healthy appetite. Then, we got into talking about oranges, which is what everybody talks about here. My town is known for its oranges. Apparently, she works at the orange factory in town and ran out of the room to grab her hair net and sticker gun. She demonstrated on a bowl of oranges on how she wears her hat and how she puts the Maroc stickers on the oranges. She insisted I take a few of the oranges home with me. No matter how many oranges I have in my house, it is never enough! After the orange demonstration, she grabbed a photo album. This part I never understand: showing a perfect stranger all six of your photo albums. Every time there was a picture of her, she would grab the photo and put it right under my nose and laugh as she said, “that’s me!” It was kind of funny, but weird because she was a grown woman wearing a hair net with Maroc stickers stuck to her shirt. After picture hour, we sat on the floor and watched Fahida’s mom whip a towel at the flies. Now that the focus was off of the pictures, I once again became the center of attention. My stomach was poked again. Then my zits were pointed at and I was asked why I had them. Then my freckles on my arms were pointed at and asked why I had those. Then the hairs on my toes were commented on because they are blonde. Time for freak-show Jenny to get on home, I thought.

Trying to leave, I was adorned with oranges, bread, a ring, and a necklace. On the way down the stairs, Fahida’s mom grabbed her breasts and pretty much flung them over her shoulders. She is a very fat woman with very large and seemingly, noisome breasts.

After safely making inside my house, I retired to my salon for a post-lunch nap and was interrupted by somebody knocking on my door. I grudgingly make my way downstairs and found three little girls who wanted to bring me to their house and do henna on my hands. I had to politely decline because I needed to go to work in an hour. They are very sad and begged me for a drink of water. So, I let them in, they drank their water, and then they left. Back to the nap, I was twice interrupted by text messages and finally it was time to get up and go to the Dar Chebab to teach English.

This is just half of what an average day is like for me.

New Care Package Ideas

Flip-flops from Old Navy size Small 5-6
Cami tank tops with the built in bra
Wife beaters white or grey
The cheese packs from Mac & Cheese (I can get noodles, but cheese is sooo expensive)
Spices: dill weed, lemon grass, tarragon, cayenne, curry powder
Vanilla extract
Peanut butter
Posters for my classroom
Anything you come across that you think I could use to teach English.
Magazines: People, US, Cosmo, The Economist, ANYTHING, just not Newsweek because PC sends it to me for free.
Books! Anything.
DVDs! Again, anything.
Maps: US, World
Whiteboard markers
Podcasts! If you don’t know how these work, ask Megan. NPR or anything you come across. I am really out of touch with world events, so even a podcast from a month ago would be a current event for me.
Music! I did not bring enough music to this country. I have no television, so music is how I fill the quiet in my house. Send me anything. Mix CDs or just burn me copies of CDs you have and like. I am not picky.
Fun pens, markers, tape, paper, anything I could get creative with.
Aloe Vera gel
Haircutting scissors and haircutting razor, Hairstyles magazine
Scented candles, or tea lights
Facial scrub (the kind that deep cleans pores)
Facial masks
Guitar music for Dixie Chicks songs

Umm, and as much as I love receiving candy in your packages, I really shouldn’t be eating that stuff. I am getting really fat here and it doesn’t help to have massive quantities of candy scattered throughout my house. Healthy snacks like dried fruit would be a good substitute if you want to send me snacks. And believe it or not, Morocco has candy, too.

The Man in the Mirror

Hey Everyone! I can’t believe how long it has been since my last post! I will try to be better about that, but for the most part, my life is pretty much the same every day. That being said, I had quite the adventure this past week. Last Thursday I left my site and traveled across the country to the city Ouarzazate. I took a souk bus, which was a new experience for me. A souk bus is a bus that goes across the country, but stops at every and any little town along the way. The bus itself was really old and stuffy. Moroccans have this thing about not opening windows when it’s hot outside. Babies, beggars, animals, and just about anything is allowed on a souk bus. I had a guy try to sell me a watch.

On the way to Ouarzazate I realized half way there that there was another white person sitting on the bus. I stared at her trying to figure out where she was from. Most tourists here are European, but she looked different. The hooded sweatshirt is usually a giveaway that the person is American. And since there are practically no American tourists here, I usually assume the American is a Peace Corps volunteer. So, I asked her, and sure enough, she was a PCV and on her way to the same training session I was going to! So we chatted a little bit and before we knew it we had arrived in Ouarzazate.

If you have ever seen the movie Babel, then you know what Ouarzazate looks like because it was filmed there. Brad Pitt actually went to a volunteer’s site near Oz while he was filming and asked a hotel owner if the PCV was in town, but she had left her site for some reason and she missed him! The PCV that lives there now says she will be sure not to ever leave her site in case Brad Pitt ever shows up again!

When I got to Oz, I met up with Elly, another YD volunteer and she showed me around the city. Then we went back to her house and talked forever. The next morning (My birthday!) I went with her to her English class and then met up with Whitney, yet another YD volunteer, and the two of us went back to Oz while Elly ate couscous with one of her students. We sat at a café and talked and waited for Elly to join us. After a while, two SBD volunteers met up with us and the five of us took a taxi to the training site.

The training I completed is through the PC Volunteer Support Network. Basically, I am a counselor for other volunteers. I learned how to listen with a trained ear. If ever a volunteer has a problem, they can call me up and talk about it. It was a great training session and we had a fun group of people. When we weren’t training, we would go on walks through the palmery (it was a beautiful site) or lounge around reading magazines, talking, or watching DVDs. It was great to be around Americans. The host was an amazing cook and all our meals were incredible.

When we arrived at the training site, I had a little surprise! The girls had baked me a cake and we celebrated my birthday! It was really yummy, too. I feel really good about turning 24. I like to think that this year is going to be my best year. I just have so many adventures ahead of me that I am looking forward to experiencing!

The night after my birthday we experienced a lunar eclipse! It happened around 10-11 at night, so I doubt it was visible in America at that time. I heard that Africa has a better positioning for seeing a lunar eclipse, but I’m not sure why. Anyway, the eclipse was amazing. We all sat up on the roof and waited around for it to happen, singing songs and just watching the stars. We are PCVs, so it takes very little to amuse us! During the eclipse, I was amazed by how many more stars that became visible in the absence of the moon’s light. I could see stars right next to the moon that I had never seen before. And we saw so many shooting stars! It really was beautiful.

When we finished training, we piled back into a taxi to head back to Oz. The road was just beautiful, winding through the mountains, but I got so sick on the way there! I had to ride with my head in between my legs and I had a few close calls, but I made it safely without any incidents. The rest of the day, I felt pretty nauseous and had a few other close calls throughout the day. I spend the night at Elly’s and yesterday morning hopped on a returning souk bus. This time, I got a window seat, which was both a bonus and a problem. I could see the scenery better (and it is a beautiful road) but I had the sun to deal with. It was so incredibly hot! I don’t know how I am going to handle the summer. I really am dreading it. Everyone tells me that it slowly creeps up on you, so once it gets to 130 degrees it doesn’t feel any different than 100. We’ll see about that theory.

A Deluxe Apartment in the Sky

I am just days away from moving into my new dar! Today a woman from Peace Corps came and gave me the go-ahead to move in. Before that happens, the water needs to be turned on and the sink needs to be reattached to the wall in the bathroom. I also need to buy a fridge if I intend on eating when I move in. Right now I don't care if I have to live off of crackers and water, I'll do whatever it takes!

The house is exactly what I imagined myself living in. It is very centrally located on the main road and only a few steps away from the taxi stand. It is on the second floor above a bakery. The smell of cookies is not too overpowering - more like one of those cookie-scented candles. And a warm croissant breakfast will only be a trip down the stairs! Inside the house there are two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. The entire house has beautiful Moroccan tiling on the walls. The bathroom has a Turkish toilet, but I can overlook that because my MulDar (House Owner) installed a shower for me and will soon install a sink. Because of this, I splurged and made a very expensive purchase: an electric water heater. And that of course means HOT SHOWERS! The kitchen is average-sized with plenty of countertop space, but only one electrical outlet, so the MulDar is rerouting another one into the room. Both the bedroom and the salon (living room) have balconies! This is really uncommon and I couldn’t be happier because that means I will have plenty of sunshine lighting up my house. The balcony in the bedroom is smaller with only a guardrail. The bedroom also has a window. The salon has the big balcony with double doors and enough space to place a few chairs, plants, and a grill on. I plan on grilling out a lot. Also, I am going to start gardening and maybe grow some herbs. Standing on the balcony, I can look directly across the street to the Neddi Niswi, the women’s center I work at. I joked around with my Moudir that if there’s ever a time I’m not felling well, I could just wave at them and yell, “I’m too sick today!”

There is a staircase to the roof, which is huge and completely private. I told Megan I am going to buy some hand weights and run laps around the roof pumping my arms above my head while listening to my music…and I’ll add while wearing a swimsuit. That’s how private it is.

So, this week I will slowly move my things into the house and on Sunday I will buy my fridge. I was planning on buying a fridge in town but there are not any smaller ones available and the price is much too high. So, that means I need to go out of town to find a better deal, but because I can only travel on Sunday-Monday I need to wait until Sunday. Do-able. That’s only five days away.

I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I have been finding things to furnish my house with. I need to give a huge thank you to Reema, a former PCV who donated most of her belongings to me. From her, I got an oven/stove, three couches, a table, pillows, and tons of kitchenware. Thank you, Reema! My host mom is giving me some of her old plates and things and the rest I needed I bought last weekend at the souk. The only thing I can think of needing now is a dresser or something to keep my clothes in. And maybe a bookshelf.

So, think of me on Sunday and know that I will be dancing around my OWN house with the biggest smile on my face. Frhana Bzaf!!

30 January 2007

On Becoming the World's Strongest Woman

So, I need to fill you in on Becoming the World’s Strongest Woman. Basically, its tough to be a woman in Morocco. I am stuck somewhere between a woman, a tourist, a baby and a man. Because I’m a woman I am hissed at, men yell crude things at me, and sometimes throw rocks. I am told by the women in my community that this happens to all women, but I’m not sure if I entirely believe that. Because I’m a white woman, they think I am the most beautiful person ever created, which can feel great, but mostly just sucks because it makes the men do and say ridiculous things. Or I just look like a freak and people laugh at me with their mouths hanging open. This, I can handle. When some stranger points and laughs at me, I usually just laugh too, because I know I must look ridiculous to them and it probably is funny. Because I am white, people think I am French and yell things at me in French like “Bonjour Madame.” When I go to the store, I am often spoken to in French, which I don’t understand, and even after asking for a price in Arabic, the storeowner may still talk to me in French. It’s frustrating. I don’t speak or understand French! I only know Arabic!

I have only been living in my town for a little over a month, so many of the people think I am a tourist and wonder what on earth I am doing here and when I will be leaving. I am the first non-Moroccan to live in this town. In time, they should get used to me. And, because my language skills are very basic, I am treated somewhat like an infant. Don’t let the American walk alone today! I saw the American today and her hair was wet in the sun, so that must explain why she got sick! But, the one benefit (I think) of being a white foreign woman here is that I do have more freedom than the woman of this town. So, that makes me a little more like a man. I can leave my house, number one. I can wear whatever I want (but no tank tops, shorts, or any low-cut tops) and talk to whomever I want. And I do not have to wear a veil.

Okay, so back to the regime I’ve started. A lot of the women volunteers I have met have become very jaded and I refuse to let that happen to me. Instead, I will focus on Becoming the World’s Strongest Woman. This is the new mantra I repeat in my head whenever something irritating happens or I feel like I have no control. I think to myself, “This will make me stronger.” And then it doesn’t feel so bad, it feels good, like I am improving myself. So, that is the mental aspect of the regime. The physical aspect is to get into shape so I can feel more confident. If I can walk every day, eat good food, and stay well-rested, I think this will help. And the good news is that I am not harassed all the time. Normally, I can laugh about it and just walk away. Sometimes a few days or even a week go by without harassment and I feel great, but sometimes there will be many instances crammed together in a short amount of time and that’s when I feel frustrated. And that’s when the mantra comes in handy. Please don’t feel bad for me or think poorly of my town. Harassment is a fact of life here for women and it is not specific to my town or people. It exists for cultural reasons that I am only beginning to understand, so please be patient as I figure these things out. I just want you all to know that I have a very positive attitude about this and the other volunteers are very supportive of each other regarding this aspect of service, so please don't worry!

Engagements, Weddings, and the Haj

During and after the holiday L-Eid, many families also celebrate engagements, weddings, and the returning of the Hajja. I hit it big because I got to attend one of each of these events. Backtracking a few weeks before L-Eid, there was a huge party at the farm because there were four family members going to Haj. Haj is what Muslims call Mecca and to make the pilgrimage to Haj is the most meaningful event that could happen in the life of a Muslim. It’s like a Christian visiting Jeruselem, but not really. Although I think it would be a big deal in the States, I don’t think it could equate what I saw and experienced here. Before the people left, a huge party was thrown in their honor and it seemed hundreds of people were in attendance. An honored guest trained in leading prayers was there, but unfortunately I was unable to see him because he was in the men’s room and I being a woman was not allowed to take a peak.

Before the Hajjaj (the plural of people who have gone to Haj. The singular for a man being Haj and a woman Haja) returned, we were at the farm waiting. It was very late and a weeknight and so I was nervous about getting enough sleep so I could teach the next day. Around 9:30 pm somebody got a phone call and said the Hajjaj were on their way to the farm, so everybody quickly got dressed into their fanciest clothes and went outside to wait on the stairs. When the cars rolled into the farm, everyone started singing this song that they sing at weddings and started clapping. As soon as the car doors opened, everyone went running to the cars and hugged and kissed the returning family members. The Hajjaj were wearing white from head to toe.There was a woman throwing perfumed oil on everyone’s clothes and heads and another woman with special incense, throwing the smoke onto your clothes. Other women held platters of fake plastic flowers and dates above their heads. Everyone was crying and it was very emotional and unlike any religious experience I have ever witnessed.

While the Hajjaj were in Haj, there was an engagement party in the family. One young man of the family was to be engaged to a young woman who lived in town. The whole family put on their fanciest clothes and the women loaded platters of gifts above their head and sang the traditional wedding song while walking to the cars. The platters included gifts for the bride: clothes, shoes, bath items, cookies, candy, lots of stuff I can’t remember, and the special platter with the dates and two chalices of milk. With all the gifts, we loaded into the cars and one woman rode in the bed of a pick-up truck with all the platters. We drove into town honking our horns to the bride’s house (which turned out being only a block away from my family’s house in town) and unloaded the platters, started singing the song again, and walked into the house. We were anointed with the special oils again and were seated in this really small room, where we laid the gifts out and waited for the bride to come. Only the women sat in this room. The men were somewhere else with the groom. While we waited, we listened to music and danced a little. We mostly sat, drank tea and ate cookies. When the engaged couple entered, we sang the song again and then we all took turns getting our picture taken with the bride and groom. This went on for a very long time. Most people didn’t have a camera there, so I ended up taking a lot of pictures for the people who wanted to stand with the couple but had nobody to photograph them. I’m not sure why I took all those pictures. After the picture taking, we ate dinner and the bride and groom left and I’m not sure where they ate. Then after dinner they returned and we watched the groom and bride feed each other a date and a sip of milk. This is really symbolic and I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure why this is done. Then, they exchanged rings and the groom gave the bride many gifts like a necklace, bracelet, watch and earrings. After this exchange was over, the couple threw candy at us women and I have to admit, I only got half a stick of gum because the women were pushing each other around trying to get their hands on that candy, so I just kind of backed away, trying not to get knocked over. There were some men peaking in threw a window, so the groom threw some candy out the window for the men. Then, with our fists full of goodies, we loaded back up into the cars and drove back to the farm. Only, I think I went home to the house in town. I had to teach in the morning and it was something like one in the morning, so I was tired.

The day the Hajjaj returned, the bride’s family had a wedding at their house. This time, we only brought one gift for the bride: a suitcase. One woman carried it above her head and presented it to the bride by placing it in front of her feet. There were many people inside this tent off the side of the bride’s house and music playing from a cd player. We showed up, took more pictures, and danced a little. Then, we left. It was a weird night, but I do know the purpose of that wedding was to bring the bride home with us to the farm. The bride disappeared with the suitcase and came back with it filled and also five other suitcases, said goodbye to her family, and got into a car with her new husband to move to her new home at the farm.

The next day I spent almost all day at the farm. There was a huge lunch in honor of the Hajjaj and the wedding. It was a catered event and probably one hundred women were present in the women’s room. I don’t know where the men’s room was, but it’s safe to assume there were just as many men if not more present. Throughout the whole day, the bride sat in her bedroom and waited for women to come inside to greet her. I walked inside, and while greeting one of her attendants, accidentally kissed her on the mouth because we both moved our heads at the same time while trying to kiss cheeks, so that was kind of embarrassing, but I’m guessing it’s not the first time that has ever happened in the history of Morocco. I greeted the bride and she gave me an assorted handful of goodies: an almond, a half a stick of gum, a date, a taffy, and a piece of straw. I didn’t know what to do with the straw, so I threw it on the ground later on when nobody was looking.

I returned to town to teach an English class, and came back to the farm for the wedding at the groom’s house. I got dressed into the fanciest outfit yet and walked into the wedding tent. Two hundred women, at least turned their eyes to look at the funny-looking blonde girl wearing Moroccan clothes. I sat with the women of my family and watched a group of women drumming, singing, and dancing. Almost immediately, the women started asking me to dance. This always happens to me at any event! They are really curious and excited to see me dance. This time I was a little shy because of the size of the group and said no. They persisted. An older woman asked me, “What is your father’s name?” I said my dad’s name in America is Brian. She tried to pronounce it, but couldn’t so she exclaimed, “Brahim!” and I said, “Yeah, Brahim.” Then, I watched her whisper something to a woman drumming and sure enough, after the song finished, this woman YELLED to the room “Jamila bnt d Brahim! Aji! Shtah!” Which means, “Jenny daughter of Brian come dance!” I was really embarrassed and all the women were looking at me and smiling and nodding their heads. I said no, I can’t dance and they insisted I must because that is the traditional way to ask somebody to dance and it would be rude to say no. So, I stood up, and pulled a few girls along with me and we danced. It was fun, and I tried to forget that all the eyes on the room were watching me. This is something I guess I will have to get used to.

After lots of dancing and clapping, we ate dinner around 11 pm and as soon as dinner was over, everyone went home. I spent the night at the farm and in the morning I returned to town to work. Then this past weekend, I met up with some volunteers in Agadir, enjoyed the beautiful beach weather and spent the night at another volunteer’s house in a town not too far from mine.

L-Eid Kbir

L-Eid Kbir was the craziest holiday I have ever experienced. Let me first give you a little background on this holiday. In Morocco, “L-Eid Kbir” means the “Big Feast.” All the Islamic world celebrates this day by sacrificing a sheep. The sheep is sacrificed for all the sins made during the last year. Every family must have its own sheep and those who can’t afford one can buy a lamb or sometimes an animal is donated to the poor families. On the morning of L-Eid the men rise early, dress in their best clothes and go pray at the mosque. Then they come home, eat breakfast, and wait until the King has killed his sheep. When the King’s sheep is dead, the head of the family kills the sheep. Then the sheep is eaten in a way determined by local tradition.

Leading up to the holiday, I had a little miscommunication with my Moudir about when I was supposed to work. He told me that nobody would be coming before the week of L-Eid or during so I could take a holiday break. The next day I didn’t show up and the other Moudir called me to ask where I was and that I had thirty students waiting for me in my classroom. I ran to the Dar Chebab, quickly pulled a lesson out of my ass, and taught my class. Turns out, I was supposed to work that week. Two days before L-Eid the students stopped showing up and I also noticed he taxi stand in our town had never been busier. People were hitchhiking, hopping into pick-up trucks, orange trucks, the back of mopeds, pretty much anything to get them to where they needed to go.

Saturday December 29 (the day before L-Eid) I went with my family to the farm and waited for the big day to arrive. Sunday was probably one of the strangest, but memorable days of my life. I witnessed a sheep slaughter, ate lung kebabs, and just saw a lot of blood and animal parts being tossed around. I was at the farm where close to thirty people live. Since the family is so large and because they are one of the wealthier families around these parts, we slaughtered three sheep. I did not witness the first slaughter because I was eating breakfast with the women, but I did see a young boy walk by carrying a decapitated head dripping with blood, so that quickly ended breakfast for me. Because of the weird gender roles here that I'm still trying to figure out, the women were not allowed to participate in the slaughter, but that did not stop me from watching from the rooftop. Most families in Morocco allow everyone in the family to participate in the slaughter, but things are different at the farm where the women work very hard all day long cleaning and preparing meals for the men.

Back to the slaughter: after the sheep's throat was slit, I watched it struggle for what seemed a very long time. It was a slow death and there was a lot of blood. The sheep didn't really die until its head was fully decapitated. Then, the men took the dead body and hung it from its hooves with a rope. What they did next still puzzles me, and maybe some of you hunters out there can shed some light on the reason why this was done, but the men took a hose that is used for filling air in tires and crammed in the sheep's butt and blew the body up like a balloon. Next, they skinned it, so maybe the air was used to get the skin loose? Anyway, after it was skinned, they hacked it up into a lot of pieces and after a while I stopped watching.

For the rest of the day I sat with the women outside and watched them prepare the meat. The first thing they did was make the lung kebabs. These were not my favorite, but I ate one. After the kebabs, it was really fascinating to watch my host aunt prepare the heads to eat. She threw them on a fire to burn off the hair and then she took this giant axe and hacked off the horns. Then she fried them a bit more in the fire and told me she would put them in the refrigerator to wait until they cooked them. For the rest of the day I worried about those heads and what would become of them but at dinner we had a regular tajine (kind of like a meaty stew) without head.

That night was pretty boring. I taught some of the kids how to play Uno and so we played until we noticed the movie Titanic was on tv. Let me tell you something about Moroccans: they have a very strange obsession with Celine Dion. I hear her music everywhere! At the cyber, at the store, and always on tv. So, it seemed quite fitting that at exactly midnight, as I was silently celebrating the new year, the movie ended and the song My Heart Will Go On played. Everyone in the room got very serious and starting singing along, trying to get the words right, and I found this all really funny, so I started pretending I was serious about this song too, and pretended to sing into a microphone with my eyes closed, but nobody laughed. After the song ended, I went to bed. Kind of an anticlimatic new year.

At breakfast the next morning, I was a little nervous when I saw that we were eating tajine. Tajine is not usually served at breakfast. My instincts were correct when I saw what was inside the tajine. Some unrecognizable sheep parts mixed together with what I could recognize as the sheep's private parts. I was offered some sheep testicles and politely declined, so some other woman snatched them up and devoured them. I was brave enough to dip my bread into the meat juice, but even then I felt a little ill. One of my fellow volunteers here said to me the other day on the phone, "You'd think eating all that sheep stomach would digest nicely in my own stomach, but for some reason the two stomachs just don't seem to be getting along in there." I agree with him completely.

I have pictures posted of this day.