Peace Corps Service(the nitty-gritty)

July 6th - 11th:
Marche Maroc Essaouira
Marché Maroc, as I've spoken about twice before (Marrakesh and Fes, respectively), is an event that usually occurs every quarter. It is organized by Peace Corps volunteers (with staff assistance) and the Ministry of Artisana. As with most things here, Marché Marocs usually come down to the wire - meaning things aren't really concrete until a week prior. It had been determined by the members of the cooperative that we would go -I could bring up to two-, but it wasn't decided until two days prior exactly who would go; it ended up being one member of the cooperative.

On our trip to Essaouira, my counterpart was having difficulty fighting motion sickness and the overall anxieties of travel. This particular bus trip was extra pukey. At least 7 people on the commercial bus had vomited on the floor of the bus. The motions of the Tishka pass made the vomit swish back and forth, side by side, covering most of where I rested my feet (the young man behind me had vomited; I was wearing sandals. I used a bandana to cover my nose and mouth, put my hat on, and went back to sleep. This trip took was a total of 15 hours (from 8:30am to 11:30pm, door to door). It was a stretch. I had just done this same trip less than a week prior.

The following day the artisans were set to have a meeting at 9:00am while volunteers were to help set-up the craft fair desks, chairs, etc. The craft fair, organized by two outstanding volunteers, was well-located, well-marketed, well-researched and very well executed. This craft fair, unlike others, was set to go all day and into the night, where Essaouiran crowds are most active. Some were weary and the hours were exhausting, but for Cooperative Ferkla this was a huge advantage. My counter part and I switched off, giving each other breaks and helping each other out in general. Several times we got at each others throats, but it ended up being quite alright. She would say, "Are you nice today or are you mean?" To which I'd reply with sarcasm and sass, "I'm always nice." It was the sales totals that made everything okay. We were both impressed by what she, alone, had accomplished - I had sold very little. I explained to her that I think it's important for her to stay at the booth and sell so the customer can see who they are buying this product from - tourists don't come to Morocco to buy things from tourist-looking people.

On the final day of the craft fair (Sunday, July 10th), my counterpart informs me that she will not be returning back to site, but she will be traveling to see her sister elsewhere. This meant that I would be traveling back alone (and on my own terms). I was so proud and happy of what the cooperative and particularly my counterpart had accomplished in the past four days that I felt she deserved it. I ended up regretting that decision.

I congratulate Josh and Ruth on their tremendous success with MMEssa - put it on the resume!

Essaouira:



June 21st - 27th:
Gnaoua World Music Festival
As previously mentioned, it took 13 hours to arrive at my final destination - the beautiful sandy beaches of Essaouira. The first night was slow, it's strange how exhausting sitting on a bus all day can be. The SIDA Committee had planned ahead and determined that it would be healthy for volunteers to arrive a few days prior to the actual event in order to be rested and become acquainted and comfortable with the town. This was a very valuable (and fortunate) move; it helped volunteers themselves get to know eachother better and also boosted morale. Being a part of the SIDA Committee, I was given certain duties, such as flyering, information booth, and trying to convince people that they should take a free blood test. Although some of our interactions were met with something just short of hostility, the efforts put forth by the Peace Corps SIDA Committee and ALCS (Association de Lutte Contre la SIDA) proved to be a huge success. Here's the breakdown:
·      1,350 people with blood pressure screenings,
·      36 people with anti-huffing information,
·      803 people with anti-smoking information, and
·      2,639 people with STIs and HIV/AIDS information.
In addition, 768 people were tested for HIV with only 1 positive result. ALCS distributed 9,000 condoms.
Peace Corps has a policy that volunteers may not distribute condoms, as it can be seen as an endorsement to engage in pre-marital sex. So, that duty was left for the Moroccan association, ALCS. They conducted rapid blood tests, which can give false positives, but cannot give false negatives.

Condoms/Max O'Condoms:


June 24th, 2011:
Friends Arrive
I was just relieved from my morning shift when I received a phone call I had been expecting - it was a friend from back home. She had flown to Agadir and had just arrived in Essaouira by taxi - it was time. Them being my first guests in country, I wasn't sure what to do, where to take them, etc. etc. I could feed them information about random subjects for weeks on end - we only had a few days. They asked questions, some of which I knew off-hand and others that made me think. We spent three days in Essaouira and traveled to Marrakesh on my way back home. We had a blast and I owe it all to them. I love you, OG & Matty.



June 17th - 20th:
Back to site
-Damn it's hot!
-Get re-acquainted with my friends
-Work on grant for Cooperative Ferkla
-Prepare for Marche Maroc Essaouira
-Prepare for Gnaoua World Music Festival

June 14th - 16th:
Regional Meeting in Errachidia
-Damn it's hot!
-Discuss the "phasing-out" of sectors
-Discuss the Peace Corps transition
-Get to know volunteers in the region

June 13th:
Back to site
-Damn it's hot!
-I'm tired; too hot to sleep.
-5 showers in one day

June 11th - 12th:
Post-IST - Rabat
-Rabat is awesome and EXPENSIVE on a volunteer salary
-Coffee is 3x the price
-Beer is cheaper than usual!
-Compare and contrast Rabat to our respective sites - conclude they are not within the same country

June 6th - June 10th:
IST - Mehdia, Kenitra
-WE'RE ON THE BEACH.
-Days are packed with meetings (9am-5pm), still manage to sneak out for a swim
-Tried to Ice a friend and failed miserably
-Got iced six times in the following days
-Played American tackle football (3 on 3) with Moroccans whose smallest guy was bigger than our biggest. Score: 5-4 'MERICAAAA.

June 4th - June 5th:
Meknes!
-Volubulis, World Heritage site, awesome. Caught a chameleon (sp?).
-Eating McDonalds, Big Mac, Fries, Coca Cola Classic, Discovering that McDonalds is more expensive in other parts of the world
-Getting caught in the Morocco vs. Algeria soccer match celebration and getting it on film (Morocco won my a ridiculous number)
-Finding probably the only cafe without pastries…and asking for a pastry. They deliver!


May 16th - June 3rd:
In Site
-Teaching English five times a week. Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays at the Cooperative (women) and Wednesdays and Fridays at the Horizon Association (youth).
-Preparing a Grant for Cooperative Ferkla - collecting information
-Tutoring
-Acquainting the new sitemate to the area (Welcome to Tinejdad, Kristen!)

May 19th, 2011:
Some shots of the sunset from my roof..



May 15th, 2011:
First Annual Goulmima Ping Pong Tournament
My sitemate Will had been working for weeks to get a small grant to fund a Ping Pong Tournament at a neighboring Dar Chabab (Youth House). The Ping Pong Tournament would include four teams, six members each from four different cities in the area. About two weeks prior to the projected date, it was discovered that it would take three weeks for the grant to go through. It wasn't enough time. Will contacted the volunteers he'd been planning the tournament with and they all decided they'd chip in their personal funds to make the tournament happen. We arrived to Goulmima Sunday morning to be greeted by members of the Awfous, Tinejdad, Goulmima and Erfoud teams. Each volunteer from their respective sites were to play as a member of their team. The Erfoud team was noticeably older than the members of all other teams - by a decade. The men, all in their 20s or 30s, had heard about a Ping Pong Tournament, but apparently didn't get the memo that it was for Moroccan youth - it was clear they were a little bit embarrassed.
The tournament commenced. There were to be a total of 32 games. There were some clear champions in the room, but today there would only be one. After around 4 hours of serious ping pong, the final match was ready to begin. Two members from the Erfoud team were the tournament finalists. They laughed, embarrassed at the situation. Said, the champion, realized early on that the tournament was for kids, but there was no way he was going to lose intentionally. The older team took on the responsibility of acting as role models for the children - offering help whenever it was needed. One of the more memorable matches was between my sitemate Will and good friend Ross. Their game went into overtime until Will took the win. Ross was furious and sat in silence with eyes wide open.

Event Organizers/Ross and Will's Epic Match:




May 5th - May 8th, 2011:
The Rose Festival
Kelaa M'Gouna holds an annual Rose Festival - Peace Corps usually finds a way to be involved. This year (and in years past) we had set up a tent providing information about STIs and HIV/AIDS and also gave out condoms upon request. The topic of STIs or AIDS is very touchy in Morocco - it carries implications or suggestions that are hashuma (shameful) or haram (forbidden) in daily life. The youth are usually liberal-minded independents who really don't know anything about HIV/AIDS, so they damn well should get some information and a free blood test - whether or not they've been sexually active. I had convinced a young man that although "it is a blood test, It is painless, I swear" - he was more afraid of the needle than anything else. Afterwards, he acted as a walking testimonial, convincing others that it's easy - and they should do it, too. Traffic was relatively slow - relative to last year.
Rewind a year prior *I wasn't here yet*, the first weekend of May 2010. People flooded the streets of Kelaa M'Gouna and thousands entered the HIV/AIDS Tent to collect information, condoms, and play trivia games. What happened this year?
The Marrakesh bombimgs sparked some concern from the government; packed with people (Moroccans, tourists, and Moroccan tourists), this would have been a perfect target for serious damage - and headlines, too. A month before the event, the government decided to cancel The Rose Festival in lieu of security concerns. However, The Rose Festival was not in fact cancelled - this was a trick! to deter any prospective terrorists. A week before opening day, it was revealed that there would be a Rose Festival - with some exceptions. The 2011 Miss Rose would not be crowned this year. There would be no live musical performances. There would be no official haidous ("hey-deuce") - traditional Berber dance. Most people who'd heard the news of the cancellation stuck to that news. However, security was boosted so much that they were re-directing large vehicles and letting only small cars through - examining the interior of the vehicle much like the benevolent security forces at the Mexico-Arizona border.
This year, however, the organization with which we were partnered (ADMD) had some extra time on their hands. They decided they'd go to the "sector" - the brothels. They informed sex workers of the dangers of their work and conducted HIV testing for over 100 women. The issue is that condoms are difficult to acquire mostly because it is considered very shameful in Islamic culture. Also, economically, one must purchase a condom, making the services more costly. Unprotected sex is protocol. Five women tested HIV-positive. We got the feeling that the work we'd been doing had not been in vain.



May 4th, 2011:
In a country surrounded by the spirit of revolution, things are becoming increasingly complex; a particular tension is in the air. What can I say without saying it?

Of couse I've been asked about it - it's a big deal here, too. All I can publicly say is that I don't understand or I don't have an opinion. This is difficult - I have an opinion. A sort of existential itch occurs when something you believe quite strongly about is something you are prohibited to discuss. You are not afforded the opportunity to scratch for relief. After a while, it becomes more and more intense until…well, I haven't hit that bar, yet. How many sympathisers does it take? Not exactly the best timing, a week after the Marrakesh incident.

Eh, Sorry…I'm struggling to find things to say that won't land me in the boss' office. E-mail me if you want.

I digress. I'm safe (by this, I mean I couldn't be more comfortable here), happy and probably living the healthiest lifestyle I've had in the past eight years. Daily exercise comes from some of the most basic of things (i.e. - doing laundry). Maintaining proper nutrition is necessary to fulfill one's daily chores. Sleep! A lot of sleep. Keeping busy with work and finding some balance with play. Trying to get a fairly large grant lifted off the ground to benefit the cooperative. Working as an AIDS educator in different venues around Morocco. Looking into Grad Schools.

April 23rd, 2011:
I made something beautiful today. I made magic. I made what I will call a Mexican Tuna Melt.

Ingredients:
1/2 circle of bread
1 can tuna
1 egg
1 triangle of Laughing Cow cheese
Some spicy
Salt n Peppa

I'd take a picture, but it's in my tum. DEEEE-LISH!

April 15th - 18th, 2011:
I just got back from a bike trek with 5 other Peace Corps volunteers and 9 Moroccan volunteers. Getting to the site with my bike was a mess. I was charged and over-charged to put my bike in the storage compartments of the several buses it took me to get to my final destination. After six hours, I arrived with my bike, sleeping bag and a few extra clothes and items in my backpack. I caught up on some reading (The Cider House Rules) and music.

The trek began on Saturday morning, where we rode about 5km to our first stop - an association by the name of Rabat (we were nowhere near the city, Rabat). We met all the children, but kaskrut (snack-time) was first to be had. After some tea and cookies we entered the classroom where children ranging from 5-8 years old gave us blank stares. Eventhough we spoke their native language, they could not understand what we were saying. So, their teacher translated by reiterating what we'd just said in a way that the children would understand. Another volunteer and I applied vaseline and glitter to our hands before making more formal introductions - shaking the hands of the children. After we'd made our rounds, the kids had caught on. We said, "Look at your hands! These are germs! They are very bad and make you sick. What do we do to get rid of these?" This lesson in hand-washing provides a visual representation of germs transmitted through hand-shaking. We also discussed where else germs reside (nearly everywhere) and the importance of hand-washing before eating, after using the restroom, etc. After that we moved on to the dental hygeine session, where Hanna, the other volunteer, pulled out a big set of teeth and a huge toothbrush. We showed the children how to brush their teeth and reminded them to be very careful! Gums that are not used to being brushed tend to bleed, a lot. So it's important to stress that one must brush gently. After a delicious tagine, we were prepared to continue our trek to our final destination - a waterfall.

We moved along at different paces - 15 people on bikes are bound to move at different speeds. Another 5km down, the paved road ended and we embarked on our off-road adventure. We stopped from time to time to take in the sights, snap a picture, or make a quick repair. The dryness caused a leak in my nose, which reminded me of every Arizona summer I've ever lived, where summer nosebleeds are like clockwork. The trails became increasingly difficult - rocky uphills and steep downhills - not the type for one to casually descend. We became increasingly exhausted by the terrain, but we refused to give up and hop on the transit that had been following us from the beginning. At one point, we all had to walk our bikes through the loose sand that failed to provide enough traction to ride through.

Ultimately, around 20km later, we reached our destination. The waterfall was short of impressive, but by definition, a waterfall nonetheless. I changed my clothes as quickly as possible to take a swim in the uncomfortably cold water. I didn't care, this would be my shower for the evening. We were able to relax and unwind at our campsite until morning, where I was woken up by the sounds of an animal that I could not identify; a pterodactyl, perhaps. We went to the soccer field to meet with at least 50 kids. We played games (soccer, frisbee, capture the flag, etc.) for a while until we packed up and took our things over to the association, which we would give more sessions on hygiene. We did not end up giving those sessions, but the girls of the group gave a women's health session to locals. We ate more delicious tagine with soda and tea - the works. We hung out for a while, I repaired my flat tire (with the help of others), we packed up and headed out in the transit that we'd previously refused to ride. The uphill portion - the way back - would have killed us. We rode in the transit for about 15km, until we hit a paved road which we would ride 10km downhill back to the town from which we came.



April 3rd - April 9th, 2011:
SPRING BREAK CAMP
The annual spring camp is put on by the Ministry of Youth and Sport in conjunction with Peace Corps. It started years ago and could be argued to be one of Peace Corps' greater sustainable achievements in Morocco. The idea is that each Spring 5-8 Peace Corps volunteers, alongside 5-8 Moroccan volunteers, gather with 20-80 children to exchange culture, language, and fun. Arriving to spring camp, I was completely exhausted from the previous week in Fes. Little did I know that our workload would be doubled. We were expected to work with the children -or at least be social- from 8am to 11:30pm. I was with 6 other volunteers, my friend Dipesh being the only other male - meaning we would be rooming together. Dipesh ("Depeche") was called many different things throughout the week: Penish, Panaché, Pancho, Dipanch, and more than anything else Shahrukh Khan (Indian actor). Amusing at first, by the end of the week it became nauseating. His name is DIPESH. He took it well - trooper. The kids we worked with were...kids. We had our fun, but it was difficult to live the life of a celebrity for a week. We endured constant shutter clicks and flashes, poking, slapping, hand-kissing, etc. etc. We met a kid whose English was immaculate. It was clear he hadn't gained a formal education; he was communicating with us in perfect slang. He said that over the past five years, he would watch English channels on TV to learn more and more. He goes by the name Fat (Phat?) Tony - he's not fat. There is a foreign exchange program that we're going to try to get him into. The State Department funds something called the YES Program, which would give Fat Tony the opportunity to live and learn in the US for one full year.
Me and Fat Tony:

Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes/Me, Dipesh and Fatima:

Spring Camp PCVs:


March 30th - April 3rd, 2011:
I woke up to a knock -rather, a bang- at my door. I jumped out of bed in a panicked hurry. I'm going to miss the bus! I gathered my things, got my pants on and ran out the front door to see Hamu, the old bus station attendant. The expression on his face suggested that there was nothing to be concerned about. I checked my phone to see the time, 5:30am. I go back to my house to re-organize and double check my things. I should probably use the restroom before boarding. Another bang at the door. This MUST be the bus. I run outside with my things and help two women from the cooperative load their bags onto the storage compartment.
...
10 HOURS LATER WE ARRIVE IN FES. Imagine 10 hours doing nothing. 10 hours on a plane. 10 hours on the couch (without a TV). 10 hours. Surprisingly draining considering how few calories are being burnt. The artisan hotel was quite far from the PCV hotel, perhaps a strategic maneuver. Still, I wasn't able to set my bags down and relax until 7pm (remember, this day started at 5:30am). I need a beer.

Day 1: Workshops
Thursday:
-Everything runs smoothly. PCVs and Moroccans are using shovels to move 30 wheel barrels worth of dirt. Before too long, the PCVs wore out. We Squeezed in an extraordinary amount of tables and chairs into a van with PCVs contorted somewhere in the middle. Other volunteers and their respective cooperatives and/or associations anxiously awaited to see the craft fair tents installed at night. No doubt everyone was wondering where their spot was going to be at the fair.

Day 2-4: Craft Fair (open to the public)
Friday:
The craft fair was located next to the one of the largest mosques in Fes; its name translates to "Meeting/Gathering Mosque." Friday is the Islamic "sabbath," so the traffic that came through was tremendous! It was incredible.
By 11am, my counterpart received a phone call. She needed to return home - immediately. She had a moment, gathered her things, and by 1pm we were on our way back to the bus station. She insisted I stay with the other member of the cooperative. I would have stayed anyways, but it was nice to have her blessings, at least. We found that the next bus wasn't for another three hours, so we decided to check out the Old Medina - something she'd never experienced before. By 3:30, she was on her way back. 10 hours.
Entrance to the Baboujloud, Fes, Morocco/Eating a (DELICOUS) Pancreas Sandwich:


Saturday:
Woke up in some sort of pain. I think I said I wanted to kill myself. Needless to say, I'm not much of a morning person. Coffee is my personal cure-all. Anyways, the craft fair didn't have as much foot traffic as the previous day, but the sales were staying consistent. The PC-sponsored cooperatives and associations seemed happy with what was going on. Volunteers were battling through genuine exhaustion and minor to major hangovers, depending on the person.
Visitors looking at products at Marché Maroc/Our booth:

Marche Maroc Fes:

Learning to Weave:


Sunday:
Last day of the craft fair. Woke up in some sort of pain. I think I said I wanted to kill myself. Got the coffee. An hour later...Looks like it's going to rain. This was the day the we saw the Operation Smile folks, along with dozens of other ex-pats and tourists. Tourists seemed to be excited to see Peace Corps in action! Of course, they'd heard about the organization, but they'd never experienced it in such a way. Someone said, "I have really gained a lot of respect for Peace Corps after seeing what is going on here." This meant a lot to us. Sometimes it can be difficult not to question Peace Corps service, but comments like those are like a positive slap in the face. Anyways, I don't think a single American left the craft fair empty handed. They were extremely supportive! By the afternoon we were wrapping up and heading out. The other member of the cooperative that came with me to Marche Maroc decided she wanted to go visit her sister in Rabat, which meant I was to go back by myself. This meant I could pay a little extra to get there a little faster. Instead of ten hours, it only took seven.

In my opinion, the craft fair was a huge success. Thousands of people came through over the weekend. It was clear that tourists and ex-pats were the most (financially) supportive groups. As mentioned, there was another organization working at the same time in Fes called Operation Smile - American oral surgeons who do cleft lip repair on children in Morocco for FREE. Some 200 children were signed up for surgery over the weekend. Inspiring stuff.

March 1st - April 1st, 2011:
I don't know where the time goes. Seriously.
I just got back from Marche Maroc in Fes. 10 hour bus ride there. 8 hours back.
I'll be posting something when I get back from a Youth Development Spring Camp. I'm traveling a little ways

CBT (Community-Based Training)

November 19th, 2010:

Festival of Tears:


We gathered at Stacey's family's house in order to pass out certificates (Friends of Peace Corps) to those who hosted us and treated us as one of their own in the past 9 weeks, as we'll be leaving for Swearing-In on Sunday morning (early). It was arranged to start at 3, the time at which we arrived. That actually means around 4pm Moroccan time. All of the host mothers along with a few host fathers arrived for the event. We had tea and cookies - too many to count. Sam started off with a choked-up speech expressing his gratitude and appreciation as Malika translated his thoughts. I went next, starting off with "I'm sorry, but my family is the best" spoken in Tamazight. I continued with as much Tam I could muster. We all had our turns, but it was difficult to express how we really felt without the proper language skills. Some spoke in Tamazight, others asked to have their sentiments translated. Then it was Malika's turn. Now, Malika has known these women for quite a long time. She's been working with Peace Corps for nine years and with these women for about six. First word: ssalamaulaykum. Tears. I look up and around to find every single woman in the room red-faced with streams of tears flowing down their stoic faces. I wasn't really phased until I saw my host mom Aicha and sister Amal wiping their faces dry. It killed me. Malika got through her speech with broken verbalization. It was quite humbling to find that these people genuinely care about us. They are concerned about our well-being. They are curious of our endeavours and interested in our futures. They are our families.

November 17-18, 2010:

L3id Axatar:
Wow…what an amazing two days. I captured the slaughter on video, but I'm not sure if I'll post it - pretty gnarrr.




Around 10:30am, the two sheep were taken from the shed to the front of the house. I wasn't sure who would be doing the slaughtering - I knew it would be either Lahcen (host pops) or Mustapha (host bro), but it was in fact neither. The sheep must be slaughtered by someone deeply involved in Islam. A man in our little village came around to do the slaughtering, but not before I got the chance to bust out my video camera. With the neck slit, the top of the head touches the back of the sheep. It remains alive for a solid 5 minutes, kicking, struggling with eyes wide open. You can see and hear blood squirting past the windpipe at an obviously elevated pulse. Reminded me of a Tarantino flick. The sheep is then decapitated and it's front hooves are removed with a knife and a compound fracture - the sound of those bones breaking were of the most difficult to bare. The sheeps were then hung by the back legs for the blood to drain. The skin is removed - a complex event that must be done with care. The innards are removed and cleaned for consumption. After all that, everyone goes inside to eat the goodies. Mind you, NOTHING but the large intestine is wasted (bones for marrow).

Things I've Eaten-
Heart - not so bad!
Liver - ehh
Fat - ehh
Brain - not so bad!
Kidney - ehh
Meat - MMM


Boujloud:
L3id Khabir can be parallelled to three American holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Halloween. Similar to Thanksgiving in lieu of food. Similar to Christmas in lieu of family. Similar to Halloween in lieu of fun. Just like Halloween, the boujloud (booj-lood) come out at night suited with a mask and the sheep skins that had been removed earlier in the day. The skins cover the entire body neck to toe. They go around asking for money, meat, or sugar harassing locals - mostly youth. There is also a "police officer" - a person designated to choreograph the operation, when to move areas, etc. Some locals also get together to make camels out of sticks, grain sacks and skulls. They go alongside the boujloud dancing around and clicking the jawbone of the skull, snapping at bystanders. There are also a handful of guys who dress as women and "flirt". Amidst all this, there took place a theatrical performance with a combination of Tamazight, Darija and French - so I couldn't quite understand what was going on. They mocked commercials and TV shows. I did gather, however, that something hilarious went down. Here are some pictures to make sense of what I've said:





Malika:
Our Language-Cultural Facilitator. Words can't justify her essence. She is so incredibly patient. So incredibly understanding of a culture that is completely different from that of her own. Americans are very direct; Moroccans are known not to be - opinions are implied. Malika understands and comes to expect this polarity of norms. She taught us unrelentingly, even when she was sick. When everyone in the group was burnt out, she kept us motivated. She kept things fun! A task that can NOT be easy. She kept us well informed of things that are probably quite difficult to discuss (i.e. cultural taboos). We each had host mothers, but Malika was our ultimate host mom. She brought us into the Moroccan world.



November 5th, 2010:
Moustache Update -
This was taken Friday, November 5th, 2010 @ 12:34pm WST:


Site Visit:
I left on Halloween day for my site visit, which was absolutely exhilirating and nerve racking. My site has all the amenities one may need including a butcher that will sell you boneless chicken. Upon arrival I was quickly shrunk down to size when I realized my language skills are far from sufficient. PCV Dan (Moroccan name: Hassan), the legend I'm replacing, was absolutely amazing in showing me around and introducing me to people he thought I should know. I refer to him as a legend in lieu of his language skills - the kid is fluent in Tamazight and well known by this fact (by both Peace Corps and locals). Being the one to replace him, I became insecure rather quickly - alright, immediately. However, this will only act as a motivating force to get Tamazight on lockdown. Interesting note, in my town they call the language Tashelhit, which is another Berber dialect within Morocco. Now, the two dialects are quite different and Dan didn't know how to answer the question of why they call it Tash when in reality they are speaking Tam - quite confusing. Some things don't always have answers.




The Trap Door:
On my last day of site visit, I woke up in the morning to find that I was trapped in my room. This wasn't a big deal besides the fact that I really had to use the restroom -number one, in case you needed to know. Nobody was home and I was literally trapped; the latch had become stuck in the frame. I tried to get my McGuyver on by removing the handle to try to negotiate the latch mechanism, to no avail. I heard my host broski Abderzak run up the stairs. I began knocking on the door, surely he was confused. He ran and got my host mom who attempted to release me from the confines. Now, my language skills aren't really sufficient as is and with the horrors of being stuck, I literally blanked on anything to say. Although, I was able to express that Abderzak wasn't to blame, which was assumed. They got a neighbor to come over with some tools and after a while, he was successful in busting the door frame with dozens of strikes with a hammer. Alas, an hour later I had been freed from my prison. The first thing I thought to say was "SbaH Lxir!" (Good Morning!), we all shared a laugh. What a great way to start my day.

Where is the moon?
One of the things I noticed on the first day of my site visit was that the moon is absent - or perhaps just tardy. I even asked Dan, "Where the is the moon?" -"Ehh, I'm not sure." Apparently this isn't always the case and we're about 20 days away from Earth eclipsing, we just had a full moon last week - I've been keeping track of moon phases. My only guess is that I'm not around late enough to see the moon rise, but only 8 hours North the moon is visible by 9pm. I found this strange, but I'll figure it out upon my return. Anyways, I've been spending some quality time with Orion.

Intelligent Eating:
I think it was my second night that I had this delicious dinner that started with spiced quince as an appetizer, a veggie salad, and fried eggs. The eggs tasted a bit strange but nothing too distinct. So, as mentioned above, the language is tough to get down. It's easy to pick out a few words and make inferences, but the difficulty is committing to those inferences. For example, if you hear the word "bicycle" and "day", you may be inclined to, but not fully willing to commit to, making the inference "It's a nice day to ride a bicycle." This dinner was one of those instances where I wasn't entirely sure. Well, Dan came over the next night and I was able to ask, "Umm, Dan, is it possible I had brains for dinner last night?" He offered to ask; we were both curious. After asking he looks at me and without any sort of expression whatsoever says, "Yep, yeah that was brains." With eggs, and maybe by the way it was cooked, it wasn't bad at all - I had eaten a ton of it without realizing that I, in fact, was eating brains. Then, on the last night of my visit dinner was a beautiful couscous dish. However, once we got past the surface, it was quite clear - we're having brains again. This time it was evident, you could see the texture; you could feel the squishiness. It was on it's own, nothing to compliment (or cover) the flavor. Imagine it tasting like a brain-flavored piece of fatty chewing gum. I choked down a rather large bite of pure brain with my gag reflex fighting back. I was seriously so terrified of vomiting that I apologetically withdrew my participation in the remainder of the brain meal. Regardless of the taste, I feel much smarter.

Dogs:
There are no dogs in my permanent site. YESSSSS!!!!

SiteMateWill:
During the visit, I had spent most of my time with Dan because I'm taking over the project(s) he has been working on for the past two years. Upon my return, he will have departed - have fun in Spain! However, I was able to spend a good amount of time with my future sitemate Will, Youth Development. The only unfortunate thing is that Will learned Darija in lieu of having to teach in a classroom setting - so it goes. I really do look forward to having a sitemate and Will in particular seems awesome. He even has an internet connection in his house, which is AMAZING (the house, not the connection). He highly recommends getting a DSL connection, though I still haven't decided.

Next:
I'll go back to my training site for the next two weeks. I'm really excited to see my host family again, I miss them dearly after being away for only one week. I called my host mom at training site during my site visit and we were able to have a full conversation. I was able to explain to her where my site was and what it was like - she was excited to hear my language improving. So I'll go back to the training site where we will celebrate Leid Kabir ("large holiday") - with the slaughter of the sheep. Shortly thereafter, we will take LPI (Language Proficiency Interviews), where the highest scorer will speak in their target language at Swearing-In in Rabat. There are only five of us, so it's going to get pretty competitive. We'll Swear-In and head out to our permanent sites on Thanksgiving Day. Stizoked.



October 29th, 2010:
A few pictures-




October 23rd, 2010:

These are the coolest women in Morocco:
Malika, our LCF (left) and Khadija, our cook (right).

October 16th, 2010 - The Mountain (again):
I forgot the headcount, but around 15 PCTs came to visit us in our tiny little town on Saturday afternoon. No doubt the locals were buzzing about what was going on. A group of 20 Americans is certainly the most any local had ever seen. We were happy to host our American tourists, but it still felt as though there was not enough time to catch up. Sunday morning we woke up and had a quick breakfast - mine was a Sprite. I was feeling pretty sick but was determined to go on the planned hike up the mountain. We wanted to show our visitors the treasures of our town. We made it up without any (detectable) stink bombs because the alleged tooter couldn't join us as she was terribly ill this time around. In fact, later on in the week she would be taken from our site four hours to Rabat to get medical attention - she'll be fine. We got up the mountain, had a quick picnic and peek, and started our descent. We split up into little groups, each taking our own routes back down. My group of four ended up straying from the trail and found no other option but to climb down half the mountain. We made it back to the PCV's home where our visitors kept their belongings. Shortly after, we said our goodbyes before watching them cram into their cabs. It was great to see everyone in good health. My CBT group is known for our misfortunes in health.

October 17th, 2010 - The Sick Kids:
That's what they call us. As mentioned above, one of our group members was removed from site and taken four hours to Rabat. Another member has some alarming intestinal issues. Another, mysterious bites and flu symptoms. Another, sun poisoning(?) and serious weakness. Another, cold and flu symptoms plus. I'm listed in there somewhere. The doctor theorizes that we are catching our own viruses and are trading them amongst eachother. We joke that we will have iron-clad immune systems after the viral dust settles. It's like our bodies are collectively creating a medical journal from scratch. Once you think you're getting better, BLAM - Good morning, influenza. A true test of our spirits…last night I was coughing so hard there were tears rolling down my face - I couldn't tell if I was actually crying. Being sick in a foreign country all one can think about is Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. It is sometimes helpful to be reminded, "Laugh it off" - one of our classroom rules. Despite our minor medical misfortunes, we're all in very high spirits and continue to joke about our respective illnesses. We understand it, we expect it, and we can't wait to get over it.


10/23 - Then there are days like the past three where nothing can change your mood. Nothing, not even the worst of irritations can flip the switch. Days like these make you appreciate your health more than anything else. Sometimes we take our health for granted. Then we get sick and once we overcome, we are nothing but grateful - and then we forget - and then we get sick again. I'm not as exhausted and for better or worse, I'm not as concerned about learning every aspect of the language in the shortest amount of time possible. I'm having fun - even when throwing rocks at dogs in order to avoid rabies, which would normally be a terrifying experience. Interesting note: There are only SIX documented cases of humans surviving untreated rabies (Wiki link). Of course, I would have treatment, but I thought it was worth sharing. Days like these make my job feel like a vacation.

As for our friend on medical hiatus, she was gone for about six days and returned with our Country Director and PCMO on Friday afternoon with some fancy French pastries that were just delicious. She was able to eat McDonalds while in Rabat, which she said was different from the states - REAL meat/NO bacon. After all was said and done, she said Rabat was good and fine, but she couldn't wait to get back to her CBT group (us). She's fine now and happy to be in good health.

Moustaches:
This was taken Saturday, October 23, 2010 @ 9:48am WST:

All the men aged 30 and over have awesome moustaches. I'm growing mine out. Mine is blonde and scraggly; theirs, thick and groomed. Anyways, they think it's funny, my petty attempt.





October 14th, 2010 - Tamazight:
As frustrated as we get, we really are making some incredible leaps forward learning Tam. Some days I feel ridiculous, like I'm still at square one. Other days, I feel like I know more than what is expected of me. Sometimes it clicks, sometimes it don't. Some days are good, some days you're flat out exhausted and/or sick. Still…we move forward. So keep up or get left behind, the pace isn't so fast.

10/13 - Lqhwa/LHmmam:
As part of our immersion program we are to put ourselves into uncomfortable situations and try everything the average person in our community participates in. On this day, we were to go to the local Hmmam (public bath). The girls went during the day, as there are designated times where the Hmmam is open for men and women. While they were away, instead of studying Sam and I decided we should go to Lqhwa (café) - men only. We ordered a few cappucinos and stayed for as long as we could handle the second-hand smoke, about an hour and a half. We paid our dues - 8Dh each (USD $1). We headed back to the LCF house, split up to gather our things and planned to rendezvous back at Anne Marie's (Marian) house. Marisa's (María) host father Moha had met us there to take us to LHmmam (L, arabic - "the"). We brought our proper materials - stool, bucket, scoop, soap and a rough fabric for scrubbing. Once there, we removed our clothes (except for our unders) and entered. There are three stages/areas: Cold, Cool and Hot. You go straight to Hot (furthest room) and work your way down. The Hot room is where it all goes down. There, we stretched, soaped, sweat, and rinsed down with hot water - it's basically taking a bath in a steamroom. Then, Moha offered to scrub. We got scrubbed as if the HAZMAT crew were trying to rid anthrax from our pores. At this point, I looked down and saw dead skin everywhere, my dead skin. I rinsed down, lathered up, and rinsed down again. We were getting dizzy so we went to the Cool room, but not for long. Moha said, "ad ddu, wHlg~Let's go, I'm tired." We walked out of that place brand new. I can't remember the last time I'd felt so clean.

10/11 - Naming Ceremony:
One of the women involved in the co-op invited us to a naming ceremony. In Morocco, a child isn't named until the seventh day of life. The given name escapes me at the moment. The naming ceremony is split up between men and women, but this time Sam and I joined the women. They served traditional dishes including this really good brown chalky paste that contains sesame seeds, nuts, honey and other numminess. This dish is served often, as it is packed with nutrients. During all of this, Malika, our LCF, told me to spark conversation with one of the women to try out my language skills outside of the classroom. I asked her name, "Isminu Jawud, mismnm?" -She already knew my name, everyone knows our names regardless of whether we've met them. She replied, "Isminu Marouma." The next question took some thinking. I tried to ask whether she had any children - a common topic of conversation. Instead, I asked politely, "Gurm tarbat?" -This translates to, "Do you have a daughter?" Now, to put things into context, I'm asked rather constantly which Moroccan woman I'll be marrying while I'm here. I get a lot of requests to marry so-and-so's daughter. So you can imagine the response was priceless. All of the 20 women in the room began laughing hysterically. I realized what I had said and the implications. In a failed attempt at becoming invisible, I covered my face with my scarf. We got over it and the music began. The women started dancing with one another and eventually I was pulled up quite forcefully by our cook Khadija - coolest lady ever. We like to tell Khadija that she is the "numer wHd stunna, wot awot wot" in lieu of Lil Wayne's verse "numba one stunna, wot awot wot." The women close to us have began to randomly say "wot awot wot."

10/10 - COLD:
I returned back to my CBT site on Sunday to rain and fuh-reezane cold temperatures. I watched a few movies on my comptuer and relaxed in bed alll day. I finally ate something on Sunday, it had been something like 30 hours. I opted for hunger pangs over stomach pain. I was weak and my CBT group asked if I lost weight. "Not sure," was the only thing I could muster up. Five days later, neither Stacy nor myself are fully back to normal. Parasite, anyone? -Just kidding. kinda. The cold isn't too awful. I mean, there are no heaters or insulation, but you deal with it. Here's how I look in class on a cold day:



Here are some older pictures that I was unable to upload last time:




10/8 - Hub (Follow-up on Assignments/Reunion):
Friday morning we went to our hubsite. It was really nice to see and spend time with all of the SBD folks again. We had to get there early for a day filled with seminars from 9 to 6 - breakfast, lunch and dinner provided. We got through the third rabies shot no problem. Stacey (San'a), metalworker in my CBT group, was really sick on Friday and didn't attend any of the seminars. She complained of body aches and fever. We presented our PACA findings without her, which was a shame considering all of the work she had personally put in. After the seminars on STIs, infectious diseases and harassment (of all sorts), it was finally time for dinner - amazing we had maintained an appetite. As mentioned, a group of us wanted to go out to get some pizza while testing out our growing-but-still-basic knowledge of our respective languages (Tamazight/Darija). About a dozen PCTs went with a handful of current PCVs who had participated in the seminars to give us some details on their own experiences. They were excited to attend, we were excited to barrage them -once again- with questions. Three of us, including myself, decided we'd each have a cheeseburger - the rest had the pizza they'd planned on.
10/9 - Saturday morning I woke up feeling like … sick. I won't give you the details of the night, but something wanted to get out of my body. I was feverish. I had the chills. My kidneys were aching. Dehydrated. Headache. The whole nine. This was the epoch of my Moroccan sicksperience. I was given the option from the Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) to stay at our hubsite an extra night - I took advantage of the opportunity to rest, relax and Skype my parents. Mom and dad informed me that I didn't look as cheerful as the last time we'd skyped. I informed them of my symptoms. I was given extra special treatment from PC staff, their Moroccan hospitality had kicked into high-gear.




October 7th, 2010:

The Mountain:
We hiked the mountain on Sunday, what an amazing -and tiresome- experience. It took about three hours to reach the top, with only one hour to get back down. Four out of five in our CBT group, two current PCVs, as well as a fellow trainee from another site went together. Anne Marie, the one in our group who didn't come along, was busy spending time with her grandparents - they had booked a vacation flight to Fez before she had even been invited into PC Morocco. She was able to introduce them to her host family while dealing with their (inevitable) cultural faux-pas. Anyways, we all agreed it was nice to have some new faces join us up the mountain. One of the difficulties in the hike was to not get caught behind the tooter - could render a donkey unconscious. Other than the occasional odor-bombs, things went relatively smoothly. Sam (the other male) and I each wore shorts beneath our pants and exposed our legs for the first time at a comfortable distance from town. The elevation was messing with us a little bit, we can tell the air is much thinner than in our respective hometowns. We heard some gunshots along the way and eventually came across the bird hunters, a friendly duo. At the top we had a picnic consisting of yogurt, trail mix, "crack nuts" (candy-coated nuts) and fruits. A solid energy boost after the hike up. The PCTs decided that we wanted to get to the top of the top of the mountain - we couldn't have made a better decision. We had two 180* views of either side of the Atlas. Despite the deafening wind, we stayed at the top for just short of an hour. We decided to head back down as the temperature dropped with some gray clouds rolling in. My legs were just a little bit sore the next day.



Weddings:
I attended one or two this past week, regardless of how exhausted I was. It's cool though, they're all very similar but at the same time very different. At the most recent one I was lent a jelaba from my host father. This gave me a unique experience, as I think it says something about one's place at the wedding (higher involvement, perhaps). Again, men and women are separated into large rooms where food and drink are served. Always two courses, beef and couscous with chicken. Always bread, always tea. There was just one man who spoke a little bit of English, very intelligent and highly respected. I came to find he was of high status at the nearest mosque - he led the prayers and kept the men engaged with whatever he had to say. He exposed no curiosity toward my religious interests, as I assumed he would. Lesson learned. This wedding was a bit more conservative compared to others…where the men pretended to fight. Random fact: Sam and I are like the top 10% tallest people in Morocco, as if we didn't stand out enough. Here's a picture of me and my host dad Lahcen (I gave him an American name, Larry):


And a shot from outside my room:

Tamazight:
I think we're at the breaking point of our language training. Only three weeks in we've learned more than a semester could provide. However, we're at the "woah, this is waaay too quick" stage. We want to keep up, we're eager and enthusiastic, but our brains and capacity of memory simply won't allow. Still, we continue on. Frustrating at times, as we have other work to do on top of our language training. I try to keep my sights in retrospect by giving myself credit for how much I've already accomplished. Not to mention we are the elite 5 out of 80 learning this indigenous language and take pride in it. Tamazight is not a written language so we aren't focusing on script, illiteracy is beyond majority.

Assignments/Reunion:
This week we've been working on our assignments. This means designing and implementing a Participatory Analysis for Community Action (PACA) Plan. Beneficial for Small Business Development (SBD) volunteers, as it lays out the needs and priorities within the community and business. It's also really fun to work with the locals, in this case women of a weaving cooperative. Their work is amazing.
We are going to be presenting our findings to the other SBDs and staff tomorrow. For the first time since orientation, all the SBDs will be together for one night. We're definitely going out for pizza. I'm definitely stoked for a shower (it's been a week and I'm not the only one) and to see some new but familiar faces. Sam told me yesterday that I was starting to smell, so I hosed myself down with some body spray to hold me over a few days.

The Night Sky:
I'm pretty sure my host family thinks I'm odd because I go outside at night just to look up at the sky. Don't get me wrong, there are tons of things Americans do to seem odd - but they seem much more perplexed about this one. Note: I'm the third PCT this household has hosted! I explained that there are many lights (asid-light; bzzaf-many) in America and so I can't see the stars. For the first time in my life I can clearly see the Milky Way galaxy in the night sky. Clusters of stars create a belt that goes across the sky like a galactical rainbow. Bright stars are planets, we're trying to figure out which ones. No wonder ancient astronomers were so successful, they could actually see the stars. Touché Galileo, touché.

Follow up from Mohamed on Americans learning Tamazight, he was Alex Cardoso's identical twin - it was strangely comforting.

Here's a video taken on the day we arrived in Morocco. We're on a bus going from Casa airport to our small beach town:



October 2nd, 2010:

The Mountain (Tomorrow, Sunday - 10/3)-
We decided when we got here that we MUST climb the Atlas while we're here. You can see this mountain in the picture of me below…seems pretty challenging but we've heard otherwise. It should take about a full day to climb, have a picnic at the top and then climb back down into town. Not all of us are going, though. Anne Marie's (PCT) grandparents booked a flight to Fez before she was even invited to PC Morocco…she'll have some visitors for the day. We also might have some other PCTs from the town over visiting for the hike. I think this would be refreshing for everyone. The dynamic of our group is great, though. We all get along great - we've heard some horror stories.

Animals-
One of my favorite things about our particular location is the animals. At any given morning, I will rise to the sounds of: rooster, cow, dog, cat, donkey…any farm animal imaginable except pig. I made friends with a calf just the other day, I named her Betty. She was weary of me at first, but before too long I was scratching her neck as she was giving me kisses. They do NOT name animals here. Domestication of dogs and cats is a rarity except in the city. Currently, the biggest threat to my welfare are DOGS. Violent, violent dogs. We're only on phase two of three on our rabies shots, too. They are wondeful cute little things during the daytime. However, since my house is over a mile away from the school and even further from other PCTs host family homes, I've had to deal with it the most. They work in packs. All you really have to do is throw some rocks as if your life depended on it (as it does) and you'll be alright. I kinda like the rush anyways. Donkeys are my favies.

PCVs-
We've met the two PCVs who are currently serving in our area, we were able (and continue to) bombard them with logistical questions regarding life as a PCV in Morocco. We'll definitely find out soon enough, but it's nice to be able to ask - particularly stupid questions.

Mohamed on Americans learning Tamazight-
On some afternoon at a café, I met a bunch of older men who were quite receptive of me and even got a kick out of demonstrating their knowledge of basic English. Arriving to this café with his father was an educated Moroccan-born French man who knew a substantial amount of English. I was able to describe why I was here and what the Peace Corps was all about. Then, something really cool happened. He was pretty taken back by our involvement. He told me he was amazed that an American would come to volunteer in Morocco, learn Tamazight and NOT Darija (Moroccan Arabic), all while committing two full years of service. He described how much this meant to him. This is the feeling I get when interacting with the Berber people, but this is the first time it has been verbally communicated - it really put things into perspective. They genuinely appreciate our presence.

American Culture-
One goal as a PCV is to share American culture, as most perceptions are based from American TV shows (i.e. - Sex in the City). We're here in part to prove otherwise. We got the idea to do bring some American culture for Anne Marie's birthday party - Moroccans don't really celebrate birthdays. We thought of Pin the Tail on the (real) Donkey. Were able to borrow a donkey to pin a makeshift (bandana) tail on … using duct tape. I have a video, hopefully it will post. We also got to ride the donkey, which was the highlight of my week. I cannot WAIT for a camel ride. Pretty hilarious and a great decompression from the intensive language classes. Boy, they weren't kidding. Tamazight is particularly difficult in pronounciation; we have to make sounds we've never even heard before. We have language class about 8 hours a day (M-F) and half day on Saturday. After class, we go home to see how we fare. Constant language training. We're all amazed in how far we've come in just 7 days of class. Woah.


Gender roles-
There is a clear split in gender roles here. Male-Female interaction is quite opposite (nearly polar) from the US. Girls hang with girls, guys hang with guys. That's just how things work.

Berber Weddings-
Weddings are huge here, there is at least one wedding per week. We've really only attended one, but have stopped by a few here and there. The one we attended we were actually invited to, though. I wanted to get some documentation, but it seemed pretty inappropriate. All but one in our group went, Sam was sick. So, I was the only male. That means I was on my own - as the rest of our group, including our Language and Cultural Facilitator (LCF), are female. Awkward at first, but everybody warmed up despite the language barrier; not to mention you get really good at hand-gestures. The men allowed me to participate in the wedding by playing with the traditional drum to a particular beat along with a chant that I simply could not pick up. It was really an honor to be brought on amongst a group (150+) of strangers and thrown in with highly respected members. They seemed just as stoked as me.

Squat Toilets & The Big D: Gastrointestinal Disagreements-
Enough said.

Hay'at Salaam vs. Lmagrib-
We met with some of the locals a few days ago after class to play a game of soccer. Dirt/rock field, large rocks as goal posts. It was 5 on 5, Peace Corps vs. Morocco. We did, however, have Sam's host brother Mohamed on our side (not the same Mohamed as above) - you could call him our team's captain. The game lasted for quite a while and was really good fun. Marisa, Stacey and Mohamed each scored a goal. If you know me well enough, you'd know I was killin' it on defense. Again, despite the language barrier, we all had one common interest - the ball. We seemed to befriend these 5 guys just by playing soccer, no words traded. We mutually approach and greet when we see each other around town. We hope to make playing a weekly thing.

Souk Sunday: Sheep Heads (Sunday - 9/26)-
Last Sunday I went to the souk with my host family in a larger town a few miles away, where the nearest cyber café is located. They sell anything you can imagine, from locally grown fruits and veggies to sheep heads…of which my family purchased two. After the intestines and liver I was certain the sheep brain would be the next exotic entree - luckily, I was wrong. I really hope I'm not speaking too soon but if it comes out, I'll eat it. I haven't turned a single thing down so far - if they eat it, so do I. The souk was a very interesting experience. People from the local douars (villages) congregate to buy all the food necessary for the following week. Locals go every Sunday.

*As a follow up from the first sentence of the paragraph below...the writer would like to take that back and apologize for being naive.




September 24th, 2010:

So I was only sick for 24 hours, wasn't bad at all. Sure I had a stomach ache, violent vomiting and "the big-D" - but these are to be expected. We came back to the hub site to meet with other PCT groups, it's really nice to see them. Morale is high, everything is great.

Ummm….I think I ate chicken intestines last night. Actually, it was confirmed. And liver wrapped in fat. Yeah. Buuut everything's great! I only have internet about 20 minutes per week for now so bare with me. I'm going to start preparing posts and e-mails prior to internet service for better efficiency. I got some sweeeet pictures with every farm animal imaginable + MONKEYS. Baby sheep are adorable and I can't wait to eat them.

Weather is great. Family is so generous and nice. Happy birthday Anne Marie! We celebrated with cake, dancing, gifts (provided by Sam - almonds and a bracelet) and almost arranged for a real-life "pin the tail on the donkey." The weather is moderate, the food is great (despite getting sick), the community is very small and as a result everyone is wonderful and generous.

Safi, bsLama "bislemma"! (Okay, bye!)







The following copied from my hand-written journal:

September 22nd, 2010:

We went to the nearest market town on Monday called Goigou (Gee-go). We got cell phones in Goigou and some fruits as gifts for our host families. On Tuesday, I joked about us getting sick. Literally no more than an hour later there I was, hunched over the Turkish toilet evacuating ALL the contents of my stomach. I tried to be a trooper and go through the lesson. On a break I had tea ("atay") hoping it would soothe my stomach. It did - temporarily. Malika asked if I still wanted to go to the womens co-op, suggesting I could stay. -The co-op gained assistance from the Peace Corps ~2007 and has now evolved into something quite impressive.
"I'm going, I want to go see the co-op."
Soo we started walking and about 15 steps later...splash! There goes the tea!
I walk back to my host family a few hours later, the sun is going down and I'm not certain I remember where their house (taddart) is. I've located the house and am happily greeted by the family. I communicate to them that I am sick (ironically, "mur-dah" like murder), they kindly show me to my room and tell me to rest and drink lost of water (aman). Besides a few trips to the bathroom -the big D has arrived- I slept the soundest I have in months - about 11 full hours.
So I woke up around 7am. Did my pushups and on the way to brushing my teeth Ma Aicha rushes to ask "Lebes?" -"Lebes." "Ahh mzyan mzyan, safi?" -"Safi, shukran." A mutual smile is exposed. I was able to let her know that i was feeling much better today. "Jawud!" -"Yah?" "Tsh-tsh." I was led into the kitchen rather than the dining room, as there were guests that slept over last night. There was bread and a crépe-like pancake with strawberry jam, REAL butter, REAL olive oil, REAL honey accompanied by…you may have guessed…tea! Ma Aicha wanted me to eat more because I missed dinner last night, but I'm trying to take it easy on my stomach today. About to head to taddart Malika g Lmdrasa.


Sunday, September 19, 2010:

I will never forget this day.

We departed the cute little beach town around 8:30am and arrived at our hub-site about 4 hours and 8 police escorts later. We shopped for food for our LCF (Language Culture Facilitator) house (aka - school) for lunches. Malika, our LCF, is just so wonderful and patient, I try to commend her as often as possible. We had to take two taxis because of our to our site due to over-sized cargo. It took about an hour in a terrifying taxi ride to arrive at our little tiny town, where locals anxiously awaited our arrival. We brought our bags into the LCF house and met our respective host mothers. We sat around and had mint tea, peanuts and bread. It was fantastic and awkward and awesome. We were each given Moroccan names to make it easier on our host families, Aicha named me Jawud - that's my name for the next two years and it rules. It means 'most generous one' in Tamazight. Aicha then told me we were leaving, her daughter Rabha (my host sister - 7) came along. It was very dark, we walked slowly as faceless bodies floated by. It started raining with lots of lightning, giving me only a snapshot idea of the dir road we were walking on. Before two minutes walking, Aicha held on to one of the straps on my bag, as to share the weight. That small gesture really set the tone for what was to come. Entering the house I was introduced as Jawud to twelve curious eyes. First, Lahcen (host father) - a gentle and generous man who obviously cares for and has the respect of his family. Then came little Nourddine (5) to greet me with a reluctant handshake. Mustafa, Nourddine's father/Lahcen's son, came later on and helped me with language alongside Lahcen. Mohamed, the only one in the household near my age, was working out in the city for the time being. All in all, there are 9 regular tenants in the household - I'm the tenth.
Before dinner the power had gone out, so it was candlelight from there on out. Amal (10) had come out to wash the hands of the men, including myself. Then came out chicken and potatoes. After eating as much as possible, a plate of watermelon and grapes arrived. Before long, I was off to bed but not before a proper introduction to the bitLma (bathroom). I peed and frankly I have to poop but I'm kinda scared and it might be too late to go. I might just go for it, I'm sure they'll understand. No toilet paper. Some of the PCTs refuse to go without, but come on, let's get real - this is Lmagrib (Morocco)!

(Written in the dark):
10:30pm - I JUST USED A SQUAT TOILET FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER AND IT WAS AWESOME AND SUCCESSFUL. ALTHOUGH THE CANDLE DIED WHILE GOING SO PART OF THE TIME IT WAS IN PITCH BLACK. GOODNIGHT!