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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As some of you may have known, I was not officially a Peace Corps Volunteer until about 9:30 am, Oct. 23. Before that I was just a trainee. Apparently PC figures it doesn't punish you enough through the application process so you also have to endure a training which lasts too long in which all of you independence is taken away before they thrust you out on your own. No, no really, I'm not bitter. Actually I finally figured out why the people I've talked to who are returned PCVs (Conveniently known as RCPVs) have all said that PC is great if you can stay away from the administration. They are nice, nice people, but do have to keep track of about 140 of us, which makes them overly paranoid and parental. Ah well, I am now a real volunteer and get to start actually living in Morocco.

The swear-in ceremony is treated as quite a big deal by the administration, which seems unfair because after you complete your two year service, no one does anything for you. But, the ambassador was there and she administered the oath that everyone entering government service is required to take. We did lose 2 more people who decided not to swear-in, so we're down to 68. It's so funny (to me) that before I came I had thought there would be a feeling that those who don't complete service have somehow failed, but in fact going through it, I think many of us highly respect those who choose to go home. It's really difficult (living here, PC service, training...) so people who are "in touch" with themselves enough to make the decisions to leave are quite respected. Aack, I'm expressing myself badly, but there you go.

So, let's talk about toilets. There are none. That, of course, isn't true, but western style toilets are definitely a luxury to be enjoyed when encountered. Most of the toilets here are squats (such a picturesque name). I still find them very difficult because having the distinction of being moderately tall in Morocco, the [raised] feet in the squats [porcelain plate] aren't in the right position; they're too close together. For anyone who thinks this isn't a serious issue, try squatting with your feet about 6 inches apart and then try at shoulders width--trust me, it matters. Toilet paper is also not used here, instead water is used to wash, contributing to the belief that the left hand is unclean and therefore not used for anything else [especially eating]. Many bathrooms have a tap about a foot off the ground and a bucket under it for the purposes of both 'washing' and flushing, which you do by pouring a bucket of water into the opening. Most latrines [pipes] here are of the s-ban variety, which would make more sense if I could draw if for you; sorry. At any rate, the tap in the bathroom is obviously a problem in the bled where people don't have running water. Then, less water is used for both washing and flushing because it has to be carried from somewhere. I would really like to have running water.

Continue reading "from an official volunteer, at last" »

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Really the subject line of this email is probably the most interesting part. It's funny how quickly your life becomes routine, and seemingly boring, which is really just a way of saying that I don't have much to tell this time around.

So, everyone should at some point have a hammam experience. A hammam is the equivalent of a Turkish bath; it's basically a steam room (like a sauna, I assume) where people go to get clean. The hammam is seperated by sex, because of course the possiblity for hshooma (shame) in a Muslim society is great and the female form is just too tempting for men (hence the veil). The hammam is linked to religious beliefs of cleanliness, and people who go to the hammam (its more important in the bled where water and private bathrooms are much more scarce) go once a week. I haven't actually been to a hammam, so I don't know what the steam room is like, but I have had the scrub.

The scrubbing is really important because it is how people get really clean. Everyone, or every family, has this cloth thing, that fits over the hand (sort of like a sock) and feels like an S.O.S. pad: it hurts. My host mom stripped me down to my underwear (which you leave on), poured hot water over my head (heated in a kettle over the stove) and then scrubbed away. I found it somewhat embarrassing and amusing. I was embarassed because I'm such a prude at home, anyway, but I also found it ironic because any bare female skin in Islam is such a shameful thing, but not between women. In the home, actually, women wear what I think of as nightgowns, but frequently have the hems tucked up at the waist into a belt so they can move more easily. In the home, really, anything goes. Which brings up another point. The word harem, actually means forbidden, and was the name given to the interior of the house, presumably because it was the space forbidden to men who were not related to the family. I felt the epitome of the Western stereotype of a harem occupant on Sunday when I got henna done.

Continue reading "scrubbed and burned: adventures in cultural sensitivity" »

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Just a quick note for those of you dying to look at a map. We got our permanent site assignments and for the next two years I will be in Akermoud, Essaouira. Akermoud is about 25 kms from the coast (though no direct road), and an hour from Essaouira city, which is supposed to be beautiful, and is on the coast. I'm so lucky!

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I hope you are all doing well. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to write last week, since I'm just positive you all wait breathlessly for my updates, but sickness and a schedule change kept me from writing.

Bzou (pronounced b-zoo), is a wonderful, somewhat large village, or at least is large for a village in the bled. There are about 100-150 people living there and it is famous for 2 things in Morocco. The first is the quality of the men's djellabas it produces [a traditional hooded robe worn over clothing while outside]. Most of the women in the village are involved in the process at some point. They either card the wool, spin the thread, or like my host mom Tourea, they weave the fabric. It's beautiful and calming to watch and she makes the most wonderful pieces.

The second thing for which Bzou is famous is its "quality" of brides, and consequently its matchmakers as well. Men come (or send their mothers) from all over Morocco and Europe to find wives. Though the standard of arranged marriages is no longer really upheld, because of the way Muslim society works (at least here) there still isn't a chance for potential spouses to meet because unmarried women aren't really allowed out of the house, so there needs to be some intermediary, hence the matchmakers.

My host family is amazing. They literally dote on me, which is of course very good for my ego, but also a little tiring. There is my grandmother, who is probably in her early to mid-fifties (but the aging process here is accelerated by the relative harshness of life, so everyone looks at least a decade older than they really are), my mom, Tourea, who is probably early thirties, but looks about 50, my host sister, Farin (who is actually Tourea's sister, but so much closer to my age, I can't consider her an aunt), and her daughter, Shama, who is about 2, and looks it. Because the women in Bzou actually have a job "outside the home" they also have money, and hence more power than most women in Morocco. The fact that my family is composed entirely of women is not unusual in Bzou (husbands are either dead, which doesn't seem to be much of a loss, or in the case of Farin, work in a larger city). Also, unlike many other communities, especially in the bled, the women of Bzou go out, talk to men (shocking!) and generally conduct all of their business themselves. This is supposed to be quite different from the rest of Morocco, and even Ghizlane, my teacher who is from Rabat, was surprised at how much freedom women have in Bzou. She said even in Rabat or Casablanca, women don't have so much control over their own affairs. What makes this especially difficult from a Western perspective is that having control over their affairs is really in reference to the ability of women to do their own shopping, or just go out for a walk. It's not even as though they get to sell their fabric. That, sadly, is done by middle men, who take far too much of the profit. Also, something quite surprising, is that single women (though always with other people in the house since no on actually lives by themselves) will have men to whom they are not related in the house as guests. Anywhere else this would be forbidden, but in Bzou, its a matter of course.

Continue reading "3 marriage proposals, 2 beers and 1 birth" »

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Are you all okay? I hope all of your families are okay, too. Let me know if there is anything I can do (though obviously from a distance). Several of my fellow trainees have friends and family in the N.Y./D.C. area, but so far, everyone is okay.

So, the scoop here is actually somewhat complicated (for me at least). Yesterday at about 2:30, just as we were all finishing naptime (the U.S. really loses out in not following that time honored tradition), we got a call on Ghizlane's (pronounced Rizlane) cellphone. Mike (another volunteer in Marrakesh) was calling to let us know that the Pentagon had been hit by a plane and had collapsed, the "WTO" had been hit, and no one knew what was going on. Luckily, the house in which we have class has a TV with a satallite dish, so after we sat in shock, we watched the BBC (which is really much better than American news-so much more evenhanded). Rachid called at about 4 to let us know, and to tell us that Barbara (Country Director) was in a meeting at the embassy with the ambassador and that he would call s back as soon as he knew anything. He called back around 5:30 and said that there was no reason to evaquate, so we could go home. At the same time, the Gendarmes came to the house and wanted all of our passport info so they could keep tabs on us to make sure we were safe. Obviously the rest of the day's language lessons were shot, and at about 6, we went back to our families. The following morning was somewhat restrained, but after an outdoor lesson (lots of fun), Rachid came at lunch and told us he'd just heard from Barbara that we should all be rounded up (including the current volunteers in the province) and should stay at the zween (nice) hotel in Azilal until further notice. So, now I'm here.

I have mixed feelings about the decision. I would actually prefer to be in Bzou (not for security reasons, just because I like it). Everyone is awfully worried, and rumors are flying around, one being that if the attacks are linked to an Islamic group we will probably be sent home. Not the best news as I am just really starting to feel comfortable. I think what everyone is really worried about (not least of whom is myself) is what possible retribution the US may dole out (especially given the current administration). We all feel quite safe here, probably even safer than we would if we were home, and all of the Moroccans have been terribly concerned and nice about the whole
thing, but the footage from the West Bank of some Palestinians celebrating was quite disturbing, and that seems to be where the POSSIBLE evacuation rumors come from.

So, that is the news from my small part of the world. The only added tidbit is that being here makes the news both somehow more dramatic and surreal. I actually have a lot more to say about the homestay, and just general info, but at this point I'm afraid anything else would sound flip.
I hope you are all doing well and that no one was hurt.

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Well of course I couldn't have thought of this earlier (like before I left), but I had to cut my hair. This would not have been a problem at home, since as some of you know I cut my own, but I usually have the benefit of a mirror to judge evenness, and do not here. Mirrors are in fact in short supply. All in all I think I did quite well, though.

In more exciting news, the health sector is moving to Azilal on Sunday. Azilal is apparently a "one horse town" (or donkey), but does have a nice hotel at which we stay for the first week, and internet access. We spend the first full week at the hotel and have technical seminars and language training, and then the next Sunday we move to our "CBT site" (Community Based Training) for a full week, after which we go every Sunday back to the hotel (a 2 hour trip for those farthest away) for a rest day, seminars Monday, and Tuesday, morning and then back to the CBT sites Tuesday afternoons. We are at our CBT sites with 4 to 5 other volunteers and 1 language/cross culture teacher, but each have our own homestay family with whom we stay for the last 5 weeks of training. One of the weeks is spent visiting what will become our final sites (which we find out Sept. 22), and the last week is in Ourzazate for a GAD (Gender and Development) conference and swearing in. Overall, I think the structure of training is quite good, as it allows for a somewhat gradual introduction into full Moroccan society while still teaching us most of what we need to know.

We had an interesting lecture yesterday about Berber culture. The word Berber is of Greek origin (ancient Greeks called non-Greeks Barbarians because they thought their languages sounded like "bar bar") and just happened to stick as it was also used by the Romans. I was very surprised to find out that Berbers are not considered a separate ethnicity. It is really just a language identifier. There are about 3 Berber dialects (or at least 3 in Morocco), though the similarity between them seems to be very great. Most of us in health will learn one of two Berber dialects, with only about 5 (out of 18) continuing to learn Arabic. Currently, we all have Arabic, or Darija, the Moroccan dialect, for 4 hours a day. We have also been learning the script, although Darija is never written. Standard, or classical Arabic is what is written (newspapers, book, magazines) and spoken in the media, but each Arabic country apparently has its own spoken dialect. (Apologies to Dr. Burkhart, since this is probably old news to him.)

Yesterday, we also had the Program Director (or some such title) and 3 of the Program Coordinators from USAID Morocco come speak with us. That was really interesting! USAID Morocco has had its budget severely scaled down recently because it is now considered a lower-middle income country and has shown considerable improvement in most of its statistics. Morocco is part of the Asian region (which makes no sense to me), and so has to compete with countries such as Bangladesh and India for funding. Part of the reason the Morocco "division" hasn't been totally pulled out by USAID is that while there has been immense improvement in many areas, some of its statistics are closer to those of the poorest countries. The illiteracy rate among rural women is 89 percent! Hence, its strong possibility as a secondary project for me. Sorry, I promise no more lectures for at least a few days.

Life continues to be quite good here, although some of the closest friends I've made in the last 3 weeks are not in my sector, so I won't see them for awhile. Otherwise, everything is running along, pretty much as planned. I hope you're all doing well, and school, for those of you dealing with it, is fun.

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I thought you all, or at least some of you, might be interested in what it is I'm actually going to do here. As of yet it is not totally clear to me, either, but we did have a technical session today in which we went over the goals and objectives of the Maternal and Child Health program. Goal 1 (not in any specific order): Teach couples about family planning and encourage them to go to the clinic if they have need of birth control methods, Goal 2: teach women about pre- and post-natal care so that when they are pregnant they know where to go to receive the appropriate attention, Goal 3: educate the community, but specifically children, about the transmission of diseases and about general health and sanitation issues, and Goal 4: train a variety of people (nurses, interested women, and local bigwigs) about the importance of womens health.

One of the most interesting things, I think, is that we really do work quite closely with the Ministy of Health. Our project plan is to last for 6 years, and we are the first group of volunteers. The project was approved by the Ministry and they recommend the sites to which we are sent, although Peace Corps has final say since they are interested in our safety and the Ministry isn't (or at least doesn't have to answer to the US government if we aren't safe). We will all be at or very near some sort of clinic facility and a few of us may even be near a hospital. We will each have a counterpart who is part of the Ministry, usually a nurse. We get to take part in immunization drives and health education drives, and just generally I am really, really excited about the whole thing. Its a little scary because some of the other volunteers have health experience and/or training, but Rachid (Peace Corps health program assistant) promised that by the end of training everyone will be fully qualified, and since we aren't nurses, but are really there for education I probably shouldn't worry too much.

I'm astonished to say that it is the end of the week. It really feels as though yesterday was monday, though
spending each day in class seemed hopelessly long. Health only has another week in Rabat and then on the 1st we're off to Azilal and our 7 week site training. Everything else is going well, and I really appreciate the emails you send, it makes the homesickness less important. Hope all is well and you're ready for fall (I am!).

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It occured to me yesterday as I was about a block away that I did have other things to say in which you all might be interested. Here are some of them.

The weather here in Rabat is pretty good. Its cooler than it is at home, so about 70s to mid-80s, but much more humid because its on the coast. What worries me is that there are some volunteers who spend their summers in Rabat or Tangiers because their sites are too hot (130°). They do summer projects, which would be fine, and so are obviously in the desert for the permanent sites, but I don't think I really want to deal with that much heat.
Maybe because of the weather, the food schedule is similar to Southern Europe; they eat late. Our family eats at 9 which is fine, but there are horror stories at school about host families not eating until midnight or later (especially a problem when most of us have to be up by 6:30). Bedtimes are also adjusted accordingly, again not a problem for Moroccans since most places close between noon and 2 or 3.

Driving is a huge problem here, especially if you're a pedestrian! Papa said once that the general observation was that the farther south you drive in Europe the worse the driving gets (in terms of traffic laws being obeyed), so if you think of North Africa as an extention of Europe, the rule still applies. I'm sure there are traffic laws here, and I've even seen road signs and I know there are lanes, but no one seems in the least concerned with any of it. All cars drive in the middle of multiple lanes, horns are used with great abandon, pedestrians are fair game, and the
bigger your vehicle, the more lax you can be about the whole thing. Never, ever walk in front of a bus, even
if it has a red light! One of the most amusing aspects is that cars actually speed up when they see you walk into the crosswalk.

Stuff is really cheap here. The exchange rate is about 11 dirhams to the dollar. This cafe costs 12 d per hour, so its about a buck. Toilet paper costs .25 (and yes, I bought some, because I am not quite prepared for the alternative), air mail stamps to the States are expensive at 10 d each. We have yet to buy food, but are assured it is equally inexpensive except meat and eggs. I bought a small bottle of water this morning and it cost 3 d. This can be a problem if you only have large bills (like a 200), because some owners of small stores will refuse to sell to you if they don't have change, which can be very frustrating.

Water is another issue here because there has been a drought for several years and at the present rate of
consumption, Morocco is due to be out of water completely by 2020! I don't know what is being done about it, but I certainly hope something. The new king is generally seen as very progressive and modern (though I don't think you're allowed to say anything bad about him or you could go to jail) and it was his birthday Tuesday. He was in Tangiers for the celebration, but there was a parade here and I did get to see some of it.

School is actually a school. Peace Corps rents out a girls boarding school for the summer, so there are places to stay (dorm style) and showers and squat toilets. Coming from the States I have a hard time believing that anyone would pay to send their daughter here, though. The paint is peeling, the beds sag terribly, and more importantly, there is a severe leaking problem from the upstairs bathroom, through an electrical socket. Of course despite all this, we now think of it as home.

There are lots of other things I could say, but this is probably already taxing in its length so I'll sign off. I hope you all are doing well!

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First things first, if any of you get tired of hearing about Morocco, or just tired of hearing from me, send me an email and I will take you off the list (and maybe not even be offended!). Also, due in large part to Morocco's colonial history, I am typing this on a French keyboard and many, though not all, of the keys are in the "wrong" position, including the a, w, and m, as well as all of the punctuation marks, so if there are any huge errors I apologize in advance.

Life here is pretty good, well at least for me. The flowers are huge and beautiful and the fresh fruits and vegetables are plentiful. The most difficult aspect at this point is probably school (homesickness not withstanding). We're in class by 8 am with 1/2 hour for Arabic script, 8:30-10:15 for language which is taught in the conversation style (not really the way I learn), 10:30-12:15 for technical training or administrative stuff, 1:45-3:15 for language again, and then 3:30-5 for cross cultural training or health sessions. Peace Corps is incredibly thorough and has meticulously planned the entire training period. We are currently in our first home stay (there will be three in all). My family is very nice, but extremely Western so Meredith (my roommate) and I aren't really getting the "traditional" Moroccan experience. They don't eat with their hands, have a flush toilet (which was very useful on Sunday when I was ill) and a shower. They also don't seem to serve very many traditional dishes. So far we've had pasta, homemade pizza, a really good creamed potato soup and some sort of rice dish. Meredith is a vegetarian and they know I don't like seafood, so I'm sure we're not the easiest people to cook for, but they seem very good about it. My only real complaint is that we're their third set of PCVs (Peace Corps volunteers) and they have the American concept of space and privacy down a little too well.

Rabat itself is very European. There are people in all sorts of dress style, including women in "provocative" clothing, which we were strictly told to avoid. Most of what we learn in cross cultural class isn't even really applicable in Rabat or Casablanca (which I found out, is a corruption of Spanish for "white house"). It will all come in extremely useful in the bled, though.

Everyone (all the volunteers) is in the process of getting sick (really intense stomach cramps) and going through the required breakdown. I had mine on Monday and was lucky enough for it to be in public. (Actually it was during a safely lecture within my "sector" which is health.) No one has left yet, and at this point it doesn't look as though anyone will, although last year there were 93 trainees (there are 80 of us now) and now there are only 59 from that group. Sorry, that all probably sounds really pessimistic, but we're all really interested! No one wants it to happen to them.

I can't really think of anything else that you all might be dying to know so I'll sign off. Internet cafes are all over the place here, and even in Azilal, my next site starting Sept. 1, I should have very regular access, so if you, feel free to send messages.

I miss you all! Hope all is going well for everyone.

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