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.

Hello! I'm Back!

Sorry I have been AWOL lately, but the last few weeks have been filled with holiday gatherings at the family farm, teaching and not teaching at the Dar Chebab, and lastly being sick and lazy for a while.

Things that you need to be updated on:

L-Eid Kbir
The Wedding
Becoming the World’s Strongest Woman

Santa Claus ... in Morocco?

Last night when I got back from Agadir, I gave each of the girls in my host family a Christmas stocking. At first they smiled and said, “oh, cute!” but then they looked confused and one girl asked me, “why do you give me this small sock?” So, I then explained to them the mysterious wonder that is Santa Claus. They thought that was a great idea. As I was going to bed, my host mom asked me, “where is your stocking?” I said I had one up in my room and she told me I should bring it down just in case Santa Claus would come. I laughed and said okay. This morning when I woke up I came down for breakfast and found that Santa Claus had delivered four small pieces of candy. Sukran, Santa! Later on, Rabyaa, my host cousin, said to me, “I really don’t think there is a Santa Claus. How did he get into our house last night?” I laughed and asked her, “Did you hear him last night?” She said no, she hadn’t heard him and walked off, looking perplexed. That Saint Nicholas and his tricky ways!

Make Sure you check out the new photos I posted! Click on the link "my pictures"

Mass Chaos with Chase

Sunday afternoon I met up with Chase in Agadir for what we thought would be a totally chill weekend. What we experienced was more like mass chaos. Things started off quite normally. We met up with Dan at Souk l-Hdd in Agadir, did a little bit of shopping and afterward enjoyed ourselves at a nice little Danish pub. Up until this point, everything was mellow. Dan wanted to catch a soccer game on the tv, so we left him there to hit up the Marjan before leaving Agadir.

After Marjan, the cosmos began spinning out of control. We arrived at the taxi stand in Inezgane and waited forever to get a taxi to Chase's site. I was planning on spending the night at Chase’s site, so I was traveling with her. There was one man in our taxi was absolutely insane. He was practically sitting on my lap and was really irritating me because he kept trying to talk really close to my face and it was making me super uncomfortable. Later on, Chase opened a bag of chips while we were waiting and he helped himself to a big handful. We ignored him for most of the ride, although that did not stop him from trying to talk to us.

When we arrived at Chase's site, we got out of the cab and it was shortly after this point that I realized my cell phone was missing. I searched through my backpack and could not find it anywhere. Now, I am not blaming that man in the taxi, but I am pretty sure I had the phone when we got into the taxi, and he definitely had a few screws loose, so I would bet money that he is the person who stole my phone.

For the evening, I decided to forget my troubles and enjoy a nice time at the house of Mandy, Chase's sitemate. We tried calling my phone, but nobody answered and I feared the batteries would soon be dead. We decided to try to track down the lost cell phone the next morning.

The next day started off slowly, but by the end of the day, had spun out of control. After we awoke, Mandy and I walked to the taxi stand to ask about my phone. The multaxi had not seen or heard of a lost cell phone.

At this point, I gave up on finding my cell phone and decided I would need to buy a new one that day. So, Chase and I decided to head back to Agadir. First, we both needed to stop by the post office. I exchanged some American dollars to floos, Chase checked her mail hoping to find a check from Peace Corps. Leaving the post office, a European-looking elderly man in a very fancy car rolled down his window and asked in English if we needed a lift somewhere. He took him up on his offer and got a ride to the taxi stand. He was a 75 year old man from France who drove fast. Next, we flagged down a taxi and away we went to Inezgane. From Inezgane, we taxied to Agadir. In Agadir, we decided to find some pizza for lunch and thought Pizza Hut sounded like a good idea. We got in a petit taxi and told him to take us to the Pizza Hut on the beach. The man did not have a clue, drove us in a big circle and dropped us off one block away from where he picked us up because we saw the Pizza Hut. We decided we weren’t going to pay him the full amount and he was really nice and refused our money.

Lunch was heavenly. I think I might write a letter to Pizza Hut and thank them for bringing their chain to this country. We had pepperoni pizza! Pepperoni! That is major Hshuma (shame) here because it is a Muslim country and people are forbidden from eating pork products. After the Hut, we splurged on a gelato. Then, we did something really silly and paid to take a tour of Agadir on this incredibly cheesy looking train. While sitting on the train, waiting to depart, a man from across the street waved at me and said, “hello, teacher!” It was one of my new students from the Dar Chebab. Great, now he will probably tell my entire community that he saw me in Agadir riding that stupid tourist train. The tour was okay at best. We saw some gorgeous hotels that we will remember for when our families visit.

After the tour, we hailed a taxi to take us to the area near the taxi stand so I could buy a phone. Coincidentally, the taxi driver remembered us from the day before when he took us to Marjan. He was very helpful and drove us to a cell phone store owned by his friend and waited for me to buy a phone and then would take us to the taxi stand. I bought a very nice phone and while we were walking out of the store, Chase’s cell phone rang. It was somebody asking to speak to Jennifer. Chase said, "who is Jennifer?" And I said, "me, Jenny!" I got on her phone and it was my host mom! She said she had called my cell phone and a strange man had answered it. She said she was in Agadir and had my cell phone. Chase went to meet my host mom while I returned to the store to try and return the newly purchased phone. Luckily, the man was very forgiving and let me exchange the phone for the full amount. I doubt a store owner in America would do the same for a foreigner who could barely speak English.

When I met up with Chase and my mom, I found out she did not have the phone yet, but she said the man said he would get off work soon and then we could meet him. She was in Agadir with her parents and sister for a doctor’s appointment. Chase and I decided to tag along to the clinic and kill time until we could meet the man. When we arrived at the clinic, we decided to find some water and walked to the nearest hanut. We sat on the curb, drinking water and eating Skittles (yes, the hanut had Skittles, so of course we had to buy them!) then returned to the clinic. At the clinic, Chase realized she had misplaced her cell phone. This became quite hysterical to us (or maybe just me). I ran outside to look for the cell phone and asked the hanut owner if she had seen it. Nope. I even checked our garbage bag and then returned to the clinic and by that time Chase was really starting to freak out, so she went outside to look for the cell phone a second time. She found a man holding it close to where we had been sitting on the curb. Phew.

By this time, it was time to meet the man who had my cell phone. We called my phone about ten times before he answered it. I told him in my broken Darija, “I want my phone now. Where are you?” He laughed at me and told me he would not give it back to me. I was so mad! My host mom called him and he hung up on her. Then, my host mom’s dad called the guy, tried talking him into giving me my phone back, and he hung up on him too! I guess he said he would give me my chip from inside the phone, but not the phone. Here is what I do not understand. The phone I bought is ugly. It was the cheapest phone I could find. The only thing that I can think of is that last week I recharged the minutes on my phone (it was double recharge, so I bought 100 minutes and received 200) and he found out the phone was full of minutes and wanted to keep it.

So, today I will buy a new cell phone. I will email you with the new number as soon as I get it. Also, I am buying some kind of key chain so I can hook the phone to my backpack or purse. Nobody is ever getting their hands on this new phone. Inshaallah.

Lhumdullah for Chase. Thank you, Chase, for helping me and putting up with my mushkils!

100 New Chairs

Let me describe to you a “normal” day at the Dar Chebab. After my usual hearty breakfast of bread (what else is there?) I leave my house “late,” sometimes as late as ten minutes past 10:00. But, no worries, I am usually the first to arrive to work in the morning. So, I take a seat outside and wait. After a while, Mounir the Moudir rolls in on his wheels, a bike that is. He gets the chairs out of his office, we arrange them facing toward the patch of weeds and dirt and begin the process of watching the hoses. You might be asking yourself, what exactly does it mean to watch the hoses? Well, let me explain this experience as best as I can. Apparently, this aforesaid patch of weeds is in constant need of watering, along with a few budding small trees. We spend a great deal of time arranging and rearranging the placement of the hoses. And sometimes we may even drink tea while we watch the hoses.

Last Saturday, while engaged in the hose process, a very large dump truck backed into the Dar Chebab. Without delay, it unloaded two massive piles of sand and drove off. I thought to myself, could there really be that great of a need for sand here? Previously, I had cursed the sand surplus and now feared the Dar Chebab might be attempting some kind of trendy beach theme in the courtyard. The weekend passed, and when I returned to the Dar Chebab on Tuesday morning (my weekends fall on Sunday and Monday because those are the days the Dar Chebab is closed) I was stunned by what I found inside the gates. The piles of sand had vanished and in its place was a new concrete courtyard. Things were definitely beginning to look up.

The next day, as we sat, we watched more changes begin to unfold. The Moudir hired a group of young men to rake up the patch of weeds and place painted rocks around the small trees. During these days, we turned the hoses off, and watched the men work instead. After observing their work for a while, we would all take a tea break together.

Then, two days ago another large truck arrived, this time overloaded with stacks and stacks of chairs. The hired help unloaded the 100 new chairs for the Dar Chebab. I have to admit, I was getting a little nervous by the excess of all those chairs. How many youth were they expecting to come to the Dar Chebab? Well, my friends, I soon found out.

Yesterday I organized a language test at the Dar Chebab for any youth interested in taking English classes with me. As a youth developer, I can use English classes as a way of attracting youth to the Dar Chebab, and afterwards, begin programs that are of interest to them. I had visited the schools and the Moudir had advertised in the classrooms, but I had no idea how many youth would show up on test day. Coincidentally, come test day there were students lined up inside and outside the Dar Chebab, waiting to take the test with me.

I gave 125 oral English exams.

And today I gave fifteen additional exams. So, that means that 140 youth want to learn English from me. Wow. I will have one class of beginners, four intermediate classes, and one advanced class. Oh, and I will also be teaching one class for adults in the community. So, my plate is full, and well, pretty much overflowing with work here.

Today my Moudir said to me (in Darija of course, so after three or four attempts I was able to get the gist of what he was saying to me) that before I came, he didn’t know what a volunteer was. He didn’t know what the Peace Corps was or why it would send a volunteer to his town. He said he was worried before because he didn’t know what he would do with the volunteer once they arrived. But, now after I arrived, he is the happiest Moudir in all of Morocco because he has the best volunteer. I love my Moudir.

December 9, 2006

For Carolyn

Just for you, Carolyn, here are some fabulous pictures of your very fabulous daughter!

Happy Birthday, Sara!

I have been at my site for over a week now! Last Sunday was one of the craziest days here! It was my “day off” but really there is never a day off here because every day that I have to think and speak Darija is a day of hard work! Anyway, I slept in and ate a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs and bread. Always bread. Right after breakfast my host mom (who’s more like a sister because she is only 20 years old!) and I went to a village in the countryside to visit her aunt. We were dropped off on some dusty road where we met about ten other women. We joined them to walk to the aunt’s house. It was a really hot day and most of the women were really fat (and some of them really old) so it took us a long time to walk to the house. We would walk a little ways, and the women would stop for a rest, then we would walk some more.

When we got to the house there were probably a total of thirty women there and all of their children. Where the men were is a mystery to me. Social events are usual segregated, so even if men and women attend, they eat and socialize in separate areas of the house. We sat on the floor in one room and drank mint tea and ate roasted almonds. After a while, it was time for lunch so we all crammed around a table close to the ground. We were served a delicious chicken flavored with something sweet. The way you eat a chicken here is simple. You just take your hand and tear the meat off a bone and put it in your mouth! I have eaten a few chickens here before, so I was accustomed to that. After I ate my fair share of chicken, I thought the meal was over. But, just at that moment, another dish was brought out that was filled with roast beef! So, not to be rude, I had to eat the roast beef, too. After that, I was really full. But as is the custom here, last came the fruit. A huge dish was brought out piled high with apples, bananas, oranges, and grapes. I ate half a banana and half an orange and called it quits. Finally, after we had cleared the table of all the bread crumbs and discarded meat bones, everybody curled up with a pillow and the lights were turned off. Some of the women took a nap.

I was whisked out of the room and taken to another room where a woman was doing henna. Henna is that herb that you can mix with water and with it dye the skin. I think the woman was a professional because the designs she gave me on both my hands and feet were amazing. I will take a picture to show you. During the henna ordeal, we drank more mint tea and were served a snack! Can you guess what we ate? That’s right – more meat. We each had a shish kabob. I was offered a second kabob but I had to say no. After the henna dried and was taken off, it was time to say goodbye. By this point, it was nearing six o’clock and my mom and I had ANOTHER dinner invitation to attend to.

I was exhausted as we drove to our second destination: another farm in the countryside. We got there around 7:30 or so and the festivities started all over again. Mint tea followed by dinner. This time we were served a roast beef dish first and afterwards couscous. I was getting major stomach cramps from all that food! I didn’t eat anything more than a few nibbles, but it was all too much for one day. We left around 10:30 and returned home around 11pm. I went straight to bed, after brushing my teeth of course. All that mint tea makes my teeth feel gross.

Anyway, on Monday I felt entitled to a day without Darija and forced-feeding. So, I took a taxi to Inezgane and met up with a fellow volunteer. He and I walked around the market, ate a light lunch and talked a lot! It is nice to feel like a normally functioning adult, if only for a few hours! Sometimes I feel a little like a lost child here. Because I can only communicate basic things, I don’t really feel like the people here know me, the real me. It is really difficult to be funny or to make a joke when you don’t know the language! Anyways, it is nice to be with an American for a while because you can just be yourself.

The other night, I was telling my host family about Christmas and they seem to think it is a beautiful holiday. They say they think Christmas trees are wonderful and maybe they will get one for me. I was embarrassed and told them I didn’t need one. I think they will probably get one anyway, but I hope not.

Today has been a very good day so far. I went to the Dar Chebab in the morning and talked with the Moudir. He told me some very good news! He is going to the Delegation today to meet with the Delegue (the people who oversee the work of the Dar Chebab) to ask them for both a phone line and internet at the Dar Chebab. He is almost certain he will get what he is asking for. Wouldn’t that be awesome? He said if we get it, I will have my own office with a phone and internet! I doubt there is any other volunteer with those amenities. So, basically, I have the best site and Dar Chebab ever.

I also met with the Moudira of the Dar Taliba. This literally means the House of Female Students. These girls come to town to study at the high school and because they come from villages or farms in the countryside, they live in the Dar Taliba during the week. The Moudir wants me to teach her girls English. This is good news, but a bit overwhelming! I think every person in this town wants me to teach them English!

I will be teaching a class of adults at the Dar Chebab. They are teachers in the schools who do not know English. On Friday, I am giving a test to any youth interested in English classes and depending on how many show up, I could have a very busy schedule. Also, I met with the Moudira of the Neddy Niswi. The Neddy Niswi is an organization that serves women. These women work on handicrafts, like knitting, crocheting, embroidery, sewing, etc. They are interested in learning English as well, so that is another place I will be working at. And I am excited to learn some new skills like embroidery! Also, I have met one woman who is the aunt of my host mom and she is very interested in learning English, but she is not allowed to leave her house, so I think I will plan to visit her weekly.

So, as you can see, I have a full plate here! I am excited to get to work, but a little worried, because I was not trained as a teacher and do not have a lot of the skills a teacher needs. I am worried I will run out of ideas after a month of teaching! I really want to start planning activities, but maybe I can incorporate them into my English lessons.

I am asking everyone I meet if they know of a place to live. I think my host dad might own a house that he would rent to me. I cannot wait to move into my own house! I am so sick of not having any control over my life! I want to cook the food I like to eat and that means NO MORE BREAD! I want to exercise, I want to relax, I want to walk around in a T-shirt and shorts when it’s hot, and I want to decorate it so it will be a comfortable little refuge for myself. I love my host family, but they eat so much food! And as a woman, I don’t really have the freedom to just go for a walk. It’s weird. My host mom worries a lot about my safety, even though I think this is the safest town ever. So, once I am on my own, I won’t have that feeling of guilt whenever I live the house to do things in my free time. And I can’t wait to have the other volunteers and my family (that means you guys!) come visit me!

PCV...That's me.

27 November 2006

Okay, I realize it has been a long time since my last update and I’m sorry but I have been so busy lately! First of all, I want to give a few shout-outs to all the awesome people who have been sending me mail! Thanks to Mom, Dad, Megan, Sara, Grandma B, Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Barb, Aunt Brenda, Mike Cook, D’Ann, Mim, and Jana! I know a few of you wanted to be the first ones to send me mail, so I’ll have you all know that Megan won that contest! Grandma B takes the cake for most letters, mom has sent the most newspaper clippings and dad has sent the most Hallmark cards. Sukran to everyone!

Today was just another hectic day in the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer…it’s finally official. I am a volunteer. Last Friday I swore in at the most beautiful hotel I have ever seen and spent the day celebrating with the other volunteers and our CBT host families. The next morning I awoke early to begin my travels south. I traveled with a group of eight to Marrakech and there, we spent the night at a hotel. The next morning we shopped around a bit and decided rather than take the bus to Agadir like we did during site visit, we would take a taxi. The five of us piled into a grand taxi and headed south. Along the way, the taxi driver pulled over at a gas station and got out. We all used the restroom, bought a snack, and returned to the taxi. We waited, but there was no sign of the taxi driver anywhere. Chase took initiative and went searching for the multaxi. She found him, in the middle of what she called “a five course meal” and asked him, “What are you doing?” To which he naturally replied, “Eating. Want to join me?” She said no and came back to the taxi, where we waited for another ten minutes. When the multaxi finally returned, he had brought along his coffee to-go. Only in Morocco, there is no such thing as coffee to-go, so he just taken the glass from the café with him in the car. Maybe forty-five minutes later on the road he offered Dan a drink, but gently, Dan declined.

When we arrived in Inezgane, we were stunned to find that the never-ending taxi stand had vanished from its previous spot. You have to understand why we found this so puzzling: Inezgane is known for its taxi stand. It is the largest of its kind in the country, so for it to disappear and relocate was hard to grasp. We walked skeptically to what we thought might be the direction of the new taxi stand. We found taxis, maybe it was a taxi stand, but to be honest with you, I still am not sure what that place was. I had a difficult time finding a taxi to my site, but with the help of a creepy one-eyed man who later petitioned for money, I got in a taxi heading to a town I had never heard of. I have to admit, I was a little nervous, but I thought to myself, “Wherever I end up, just ask for a taxi going to my town and eventually I will get there.” And that’s exactly what I did. Luckily, the town I ended up in is only a short fifteen-minute drive away from my site.

Coming back to my town felt so comfortable. I was glad to see my new host family and they were so happy to see me again. I socialized a bit, ate dinner and went up to bed, exhausted. Then, this morning I headed back to the dreaded Inezgane. Last week I shipped two pieces of luggage via the bus shipping service and decided yesterday it would be much easier to return to Inezgane at another time, rather than try to haul all my belongings back to my town at one time. Coincidentally, I met up with the other volunteers there and we embarked on \what became a string of mini-adventures. First, we took the bus into Agadir to find a place that sells these tiny stamps that are needed for the carte de sejour we are required to get. Of course, the store was not open, so we walked down to the ocean. I felt like I had walked into somebody else’s life…certainly not the life of a Peace Corps volunteer. I look forward to spending some quality time sunbathing on that beach.

Now, I am back at my site and starting to think of all the things I need to do during these first few weeks. Tomorrow I will find one of those stamps, meet with the local authorities, visit the dar chebab and stop by one of the cybers. That, without doubt should amount to a busy day. I apologize for my lack of correspondence and blog updates as of late, but I can safely assure you that I will have nothing but time on my hands now. Stay tuned.