Knowing what was in store for this last week, the fates must have had a good laugh at my silent (or otherwise) laments that I didn't have enough to do.

Monday morning dawned crisp and clear with Najia in the hospital in Essaouira giving birth to her second son. His name is Yasim and I don't know why anyone supports the myth that babies are cute. He's not, in fact looks very much like E.T. The seventh day after birth is when Moroccans usually hold the naming ceremony when relatives and friends come in and a lamb is slaughtered and eaten (presumably not until after it's been roasted). Given the difficulty of transport in the bled, this ceremony traditionally takes place at lunchtime so everyone can make it back to their houses before dark. Yasim's naming ceremony is being postponed until after Ramadan, which started Saturday (Friday in many other Muslim countries). Obviously if you can't eat anything during the day, slaughtering a lamb for lunch doest do you much good. Yasim and Najia are both doing well, and, as should be expected, Neither is participating in Ramadan.

Also, last week was the national [children's] vaccination drive. I had thought they were every six months, but it's just once a year. Margie and I didn't go on Monday, due to the excitement at home, Nor Thursday, when Mostafa, our boss, came for a quick "site visit." The three days we did go were great, though. We went out to the duoars with Abdulhadi, one of the two nurses at our sbitar (local clinic). Malika, the other nurse (he and Abdulhadi are married by the way, just as a point of gossip), stayed at the sbitar. Abdulhadi goes out to the duoars, both during the vaccine drive and as part of his regular duties. There are 75 duoars (which is a lot) in Akermoud's "health district" and the sbitar is responsible for 17,077 people (not including Yasim, yet). We were also accompanied by a nurse from Talmest (the town we had to go to for our resident cards), a largish town about 45 minutes away, the "lab guy" from Talmest, and a driver from Essaouira.

Continue reading "be careful what you wish for" »

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One of Papa's "birding" friends asked a question which I started to answer and then thought you all might find it interesting, so here it is. The question is about the interpretation of staring. Thanks Susan!

Hmmm, how to answer that one. Well, staring is, I think, very cultural. I would agree that there may be a difference between a stare, and a glance of admiration, but that the difference does not exist in Morocco (and probably doesn't really exist at home anymore either, but that's totally
different). The stares I get from women are curious, and sometimes, from older women, a little hostile. From younger women they're usually very curious, and vaguely appealing, for what though, I don't know. On one of my walks I passed two women and was going to just say hi, but one of them looked desperate for some sort of actually communication, so I stopped and shook hands, but still don't have the language skills to go much beyond that.

The stares from children vary depending on age and gender. The girls are much like the younger to middle aged women (although age is another can of worms here, because people look much, much older than they usually are), curious and sometimes a little excited. The
boys, if they're under ten, are like the girls. My least favorite are the boys from about 10 to 15.
Their stares are challenging and direct, but frequently it seems as though they aren't even sure
why they're staring that way, they just see the older men do it and know they're supposed to imitate. This age group and gender is the scariest here, and I do mean that literally. The only time I've been truly harassed here was when Margie and I were followed by a group of about four 10 year olds and they threw rocks at us until they hit us and I got visibly angry. It's worse, of course, in the towns than it is in the bled because in the bled they don't have the advantage of
anonymity.

Continue reading "a question, somewhat answered" »

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Some of you have been nice enough to pretend interest in my experience and ask questions, so here are some answers, and some other news.

Akermoud is really a "commercial center" by bled standards. It's essentially just a (barely) two lane road with hanoots (store fronts) lining either side. There are probably about 150 hanoots, which is a lot [though most of them are empty]. Besides the mosque and sbitar, there isn't much else, though, including housing. As far as I can tell, people actually live in other duoars and come into Akermoud to work. My host family is one of the few exceptions to this, as Margie and I will be in a few weeks. We have secured housing in two apartments that are across the street from our host family's house, at the "end of town." The apartments are on the second floor, over a teleboutique, which is good because PC is stringent about safety requirements, and this way Margie and I don't have to have bars installed over our windows as we would if we were on the first floor. The apartments have running water, although that is controlled by some sort of decision making body so that water only runs on souq days (Mon., Wed., Fri., and Sat.) and then, only in the mornings. We also have electricity, which is probably my biggest plus because of reading. The situation of the apartments though, is not ideal from my perspective. Akermoud is quite conservative, unlike Bzou, and women rarely go outside their homes, especially on souq days. The only acceptable place for women to be is the sbitar, which is good for us, but still awkward. I would much rather live in one of the surrounding duoars, especially if I can get closer to the ocean. I am settling on the apartment, largely because with no privacy and no control over my life for the last 3 months, I'm at the point where I need to get out, where ever that may be.

Daily routines haven't really been established yet, mostly because we're trying to do all of the paperwork needed when you move. The most complicated is the "Carte de Sejour" which we have to obtain from the gendarmes. It's essentially a resident alien card and needs to be updated once a year. This would be easier if Akermoud had a gendarme office, but it's too small, so we have to go to Talmest, for which we take 2 taxis, and lots of staring. Talmest is about 45 minutes to the northeast of Akermoud, and not much bigger from what I've seen of it, but it does have the police. Our (hopefully) last trip to them will be tomorrow, and then we should be done. Our other piece of business was to meet the delege, who is in charge of all of the [health] ministry's programs in Essaouira. Meeting the delege is a courtesy from PC's view, but was necessary for our nurse, so we haven't done much at the sbitar. What sort of routine I'll eventually settle into, I haven't a clue at the moment. For now, I eat far too much, go for walks, sleep and read a lot. If I got to decide on the when and what of these things, it would be almost perfect, but for now I just want to move.

Continue reading "questions and answers" »

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