Souk...again

Today was souk in my village and I wanted to get a few items for my apartment. Soumia went with me and we bought a bucket, tea pot and some pots. As soon as we got home, everyone asked how much my purchases were and then examined everything. The same thing happened when I got back from Khenifra on Sunday. In a society where just about everything is bargained for, I can understand the interest in prices, but it sometimes wears on my nerves. Luckily, I seem to have done a good job with my purchases, although my host mom was curious what I am going to do with 5 pots. She has one sauce pan, a pressure cooker, a frying pan and several different tagines. I plan to start a “family” dinner once a month so that any of the volunteers in the area and others who are visiting can come for a good home-cooked dinner and a movie or game night. So having a couple pots will come in handy.

I was supposed to get the keys to my apartment today, but that didn't exactly go as planned. When Mo came for my site visit, he suggested I buy a new lock for the door to my apartment, so that I would be the only one with the keys. I did so and turned the lock over to my landlord the very next day. So, imagine my surprise when we go to my apartment today (a week later) and he brings the lock with him! The lock didn't quite work as easily as it should and after 45 minutes or so of him messing around with it, he told me he would have to come back on Saturday to finish everything. There was still trash from the previous tenant and the remnants from the painter – paint cans, paint thinner, brushes and other trash. My landlord also indicated that he would fix the windows – they all have locks, but some were missing handles.

I am glad to be leaving for the weekend. It would be really frustrating to be here all weekend and not be able to move into my apartment.

Another Swim!

Today was a holiday in Morocco, so I met Elisabeth, Anna and Tori to go swimming! We went to Tori's village and swam in the river. It was blissful! The sun was shining and it was hot – we worked up a good sweat on the hike to the river and the water was cold and refreshing. There is sand in the river and its really goupy. I was goofing around and rubbing it on my arms claiming to be giving myself a beauty treatment. Pretty soon, Tori, Elisabeth and I were covered in mud! It was fun and actually helped cool us off as we sat in the sun for a while.

Peace Corps sometimes reminds me of being in high school again. Although everyone is a college graduate, I feel like we are in some warped version of Sweet Valley High. The gossip mill is amazingly swift and vicious. I was happily out of the loop during training – I would much rather talk with friends about their experiences and lives than talk about other people. But one of the volunteers close to me is plugged into the rumor circuit and happily shares information and conversations had in confidence. While its nice to know how other volunteers are doing, all of the extraneous commentary and judgments seem so immature and hurtful. I feel like I have to be careful what I say around this person and I don't like being so guarded.

I guess its to be expected...there are approximately 200 volunteers in Morocco and when almost your entire life – friends, support network, significant others, co-workers, etc. are contained within such a small community, news is bound to travel fast.

Khenifra Souk

I had planned to get up early today and go to Khenifra to buy the big ticket items for my apartment – a bed, ponjs and a fridge. But no one in my house was up because they were at the wedding last night! I had mentioned to my host father that I wanted to go to Khenifra and would like him to go with me. I knew I needed a Moroccan to go with me so I wouldn't get ripped off. He was still asleep when I was ready to go and Fatima asked if he wanted to go and he said no.

I decided to go anyways, thinking I could get the smaller items instead. I have to take 2 taxis to get to Khenifra and while I was waiting in T-town I ran into my host uncle, Sidi Mo. He agreed to go with me to Khenifra and we were off.

We went to souk first, but Sidi Mo decided we should go to the regular stores instead. We went to a friend of his who owns a fabric/bed/ponj store. I want a double bed because I like my space when I sleep, but this completely miffed Sidi Mo. He kept asking who else was going to sleep in my bed with me. I had 2 options – top of the line and not top of the line. Top of the line was out of my price range but the other one was within my budget, so I bought that one. The store was tiny, so we couldn't lay the mattress on the floor so I could try them out. I have my fingers crossed that the one I bought will be good for my back.

Now we were on to the ponjs. These are kind of like large floor pillows that serve as couches. Some are simply foam rectangles and you can choose between different heights. This is what I have been sleeping on for the past two months and it is not comfortable. There are also ones that are stuffed with stuffing, which is what I wanted. We went upstairs to an apartment filled with foam rectangles. I sat on a couple different heights and found one I liked. Then we went back down to the store and I saw the stuffed ones. Sidi Mo negotiated a price on the ponjs and then we just hung out for a couple minutes. I'm not sure why.

Then it was time for lunch. I kept mentioning that I wanted to buy a fridge, but Sidi Mo kept telling me “shwia b shwia,” which means little by little. We went to the fish/pizza place, which I have since discovered has a good salad. It was hot and I welcome any opportunity to eat fresh vegetables, so I ordered a salad. This did not please Sidi Mo and he kept insisting that I eat something else. I kept saying no and telling him I didn't want to eat a lot because it was so hot. This conversation continued for most of the meal.

I had expected to rent a little van to haul everything to my village, but Sidi Mo said we could put it on top of the transit vehicle that goes to my village every evening at 5:30. We had some time to kill and we were not buying a fridge, so we went to an air conditioned cafe! It was too hot for coffee or tea, so I ordered a juice. We sat for at least 2 hours and Sidi Mo kept telling me to order something else. I didn't want anything else and he kept telling me to drink coffee or a soda. I am so frustrated with people telling me to eat and drink. I know when I am full and when I want to drink something. I didn't want to drink anything else!

Earlier in the day, we had seen my fellow volunteer, Sarah, who is dating the English teacher from her village. He is Moroccan and they were walking hand-in-hand down the street in Khenifra. Since dating isn't really practiced in Morocco – most marriages still seem to be arranged or dates heavily chaperoned, most people expect Sarah to marry this young man and take him to America. This situation apparently planted an idea in Sidi Mo's head because most of our conversation at the cafe revolved around him asking to go to America with me. I tried to fend this off with my usual answer, which is that its expensive to go to America. When I told him the cost of the plane ticket, he told me no problem. I mentioned visa's and passports and he said no problem. Then I joked about how everyone in the Sisterhood wants to go with me and I'm going to have to buy an airplane to bring them all with. This line usually diffuses these kinds of conversations but it wasn't working with Sidi Mo.

Somehow the conversation turned to me being old and needing to get married quick and start having babies. Because once I turn 30, I'll be too old to find a man. The conversation was cyclical...We'd get to me not wanting to get married and not wanting to have babies (not really true, but it usually quiets people down when they are annoying me with questions about my marriage plans) and then we'd start over with him wanting to come to America with me. He never outright said I want to marry you, but mentioned getting a job in a factory and buying me a car and nice house. Then he mentioned me having babies – skipped right over the marriage part to me having his babies. We'd come to Morocco every summer to visit family. I kept telling him no, that only I was going back to America and he asked me what I tell my family about him! He also kept telling me that it was easier to get papers if you are married to an American!

I can't tell you how frustrating and belittling it is to feel like all anyone sees me as is a ticket to America, especially the men. Sidi Mo is someone I trusted and thought would not follow this line of thinking, or at least be decent enough not to bring it up with me. I felt trapped...I had no desire to be anywhere near him or to continue the conversation, but he was helping me get my stuff back home. I felt helpless and completely out of control of anything, which is really a crummy feeling.

Thankfully, displays of physical affection between men and women are not acceptable outside of marriage, so Sidi Mo did not try anything, but I still felt like I'd been violated somehow. By the way, public displays of affection are illegal in Morocco. Foreigners can get away with it, but it is not accepted among Moroccans.

Around 4pm we returned to the shop to collect my purchases. We hired a small pick up truck to bring them to the bus station. Sidi Mo was really helpful in getting them loaded on the transit and making sure we had seats. I would have struggled to get everything done that we accomplished, had I been alone.

A Party

I slept in today and when I finally emerged from my room, after reading for a while, it was nearly 11am! While I ate breakfast, my 2 year old host cousin, Samir, walked in wearing dress clothes. He was antsy, so I took his picture and asked him where he was going. I thought my host mom told me it was a wedding, but it turned out to be a party for a boy being circumcised, I think. They invited me to go and gave me a “taksheda” to wear. It's kind of like a jellaba, but doesn't have a hood and its fancy. It was absolutely beautiful and I accompanied Fatima and Mouna to the party.

It was your typical Moroccan party – we hung out for a while and then drank tea. Once everyone arrived, we ate lunch. There's a special occasion dish I've eaten a few times here, which always poses a challenge for me. Its a big hunk of meat served over a bed of onions and topped with either olives or stewed dates. It tastes a lot better than it may sound and I enjoy eating the onions, olives and dates, but the people at parties are always miffed when I don't touch the meat. In some cases even breaking off chunks and putting them in front of me! I'm wasn't worried when it showed up today, because there is usually a second course that is more appealing to me.

But my host mom was worried about me and she asked the hostess to bring a bowl of onions and olives for me, which the hostess happily did. Problem was, this happened after they had kept telling me to eat and I'd eaten a bunch of bread. So, I ate some of the extra food, but couldn't eat it all, plus they brought out another course! It was yummy – buttered spaghetti noodles topped with crushed peanuts and sugar. Delicious!

After lunch, many of the woman made a dash for the door, my host mom and Mouna included. I had befriended a couple of the girls at the party and they asked me to stay for the “hadus.” I stayed and danced with the women – a hadus seems to be anything that involves a drum and dancing. Someone drums and chants a song which others join in. Sometimes its a call and answer style. Eventually a couple girls start dancing and by the end all of the women were dancing. It was a lot of fun!

I went home with Fatima and her daughter, Mamaw who are somehow related to my host family. My host mom was coming there for evening tea. Fatima's brother, Mohamed, has always been kind to me and he started talking to me and asking me questions partly in French and partly in Tamazight. I was holding my own for a couple minutes until he asked me about Israel. My standard answer is that I don't know enough about the situation to form an opinion, but he wasn't accepting this. Thankfully, but also infuriatingly, Mamaw chimed in and asked why he was talking to me because “she doesn't understand Tamazight.” I was thankful for the interruption, but so maddened by her comment. It is so frustrating, especially when I've just conversed with someone for a couple minutes and then I don't understand something and they tell me I don't know any Tamazight or that I don't understand anything. Sometimes makes me want to scream!

The rest of the day was uneventful. There was a wedding in town and my family was going to watch, at 12 or 1am! I opted to sleep instead.

I Hate Flies

Its 6am and I woke up to the rooster next door cockle doodle doodling. He seems to live on the roof and for some reason he always comes to the edge closest to my window seemingly to wake me up. Once he starts, the donkeys soon follow and I think once one starts, they all start hee-hawing. Normally, I just turn over and fall back to sleep, but today the flies won't leave me alone. I don't know where they come from – my window has a screen and my door is closed when I sleep. There weren't any flying around when I went to bed last night, because I killed them all with my trusty Reader's Digest! It's too hot to wear much to bed, so I am in a t-shirt and shorts, which leaves plenty of skin for the flies to find. Its when they land on my face, especially my nose or lips, that really gets me going. I tried pulling my sheet over my arms and legs, but that drove them to my face! GROSS!

I had heard that the flies were bad during the summer, but I thought I might get lucky being in the mountains. No such luck. I've gotten used to them on the table when we eat and finding them swarming in the kitchen, but it really drives me crazy when they land on me!

I have a meeting this morning, which I am leaving for at 8:30, the time I usually roll out of bed! So, I'm annoyed that I'm missing out on my last hour of sleep. By the way, if it sounds like I get to sleep in, consider that we don't eat dinner until 11-ish and I don't make it to bed until midnight or later.

Friday Evening: The meeting went well. It was with the presidents of several associations in my rural commune and a neighboring one. MEDA is working with them to create a new association to manage and protect the forest in the area. I didn't understand most of the meeting, but I got the gist of what was going on and was able to repeat the highlights to some of the MEDA staff to prove that I understood something!

If you are interested in some background information on the forests and this project, here it is. A rural commune is kind of like county government in the U.S. Its a local unit of government that collects taxes and provides some services to its residents. My village is the “capital” of the rural commune, so both the village and commune have the same name. The commune governs a sizable area of the surrounding countryside, which includes a bunch of smaller villages.

The area is mountainous and forested in some areas. Due to a number of factors including erosion, clearing land for farming, and cutting trees for firewood the forest is disappearing. The firewood issue is a big one, remember that fantastic hammam experience I told you about? Wouldn't be possible without some firewood feeding the fire. Consider that a majority of the houses in my village have their own mini-hammam on the roof, which they fire up once a week. Plus, there is the communal hammam that provides hot water all day, every day. Don't forget the bread, many families still cook their bread in wood ovens – there is a somewhat pervasive view that bread baked in a gas oven isn't as good as bread from a wood oven. So, people in my commune are still cutting a lot of wood for fires.

The national government, through its Water and Forest Ministry developed a forestry management plan for the region which includes planting new trees, preventing the cutting of existing trees and fencing off areas to protect them indefinitely. Interestingly and perhaps somewhat progressively, when Morocco conducted a comprehensive inventory of its natural areas, it allowed indigenous groups and existing communities to remain within newly designated protected areas. The idea being that through grass-roots development, these communities could live in harmony with their surroundings. My commune is not in a national park or SIBE (Site of Biologic Importance – the acronym comes from French, so it doesn't quite translate), but the forest is critical and needs to be protected.

The idea behind this new association is to help get local buy-in and support for the forest management plan. If the existing community associations are supportive and bringing their constituents along as active partners in managing the forest, then the plan will be more successful than if a forest ranger from Rabat comes in and tells people not to cut trees down. Once the association is up and running, environmental education about the benefits of a healthy forest and alternatives to all that firewood must be presented. That is where I come in.

The Peace Corps Morocco Environment Program is a partner with the Moroccan Ministry of Water and Forests (EEF). We have a MOU and a strategic program plan that was developed jointly by PC and EEF. The main goal of our plan is environmental education – building an environmental ethic in our communities and linking it to everyday life. In my community, trash is the other big issue. Although the commune collects trash every Friday, they take it across the valley and dump it on the side of the mountain! I can't tell you how many times I've seen someone open a package of candy, cigarettes, etc. and just drop the wrapper.

Changing those kind of behaviors definitely won't happen overnight, but one of the PC target audiences is children – if we can get them early, it is easier to teach them new environmental ethics than if they are adults and already have habits and ideas somewhat ingrained in their minds.

Site Visit

I don't think I explained how PC Morocco is structured. There are four program areas – Youth Development, Small Business Development, Health and Environment. Each program has a manager and assistant – all are Moroccan and have extensive experience in their field. My program manager is named Mohissine (Mo) and our assistant is Aicha. Both are awesome – well-informed, supportive, approachable and responsive to my requests for information. Throughout the month of July, they are visiting all of the new volunteers to make sure everything is going well.

Mo visited me today and I was a little nervous about it, but everything went well. I went for my usual walk this morning and came home sweaty and ready for a bucket bath. Much to my dismay, the water in my village was turned off! I hadn't had a “real” shower since Fez and it had been a couple days since my last bucket bath, plus its been hot, so I was feeling rather rank. Oh well, I thought, I'm sure Mo has seen volunteers in worse shape than me. I put on fresh clothes and did my best to clean up, which is difficult when you don't have water.

I met Mo just after lunch, around 3pm and we went to a cafe to chat and have a limonada (code word for soda). We were there for a couple hours chatting about the situation in my village, potential projects, my host family, my family at home, etc. It was a good talk and very reassuring that I'm on the right track. Then we went to check on my apartment.

I had asked my host father for help finding an apartment and he showed me one which, thankfully, worked for me. I got the impression that it was this one or I was on my own, so I'm glad I liked it. Its just down the street from my host family and close to the center of town. I should be able to see the bus from my window and know when to go out to catch it! When we saw the apartment for the first time a couple weeks ago, another man from the Commune went with us to see it. I thought he owned the building, but he told me to negotiate rent with my host father. PC had scoped the real estate market when the chose my village and determined an acceptable amount of monthly rent, which I wasn't allowed to exceed. This amount was fine with my host father and we filled out a rental agreement earlier this week.

When Mo and I went to see the apartment, Mohammed, the man from the commune told Mo that his mother owns the building and she wasn't happy about renting the apartment to me for the previously agreed amount. She wanted 25% more per month! They went back and forth in Arabic, so I didn't really understand, but Mo told him that once we saw it, he would decide if it was worth the increased price.

Luckily, he decided it was – when we got there, a man was painting all the walls and window and door trim! It had looked pretty shabby when I saw the apartment and I had asked if I could paint. I don't know if there was a misunderstanding or if they wanted to fix it up, but I'm so glad they are painting it! They are also going to put new fixtures on all the windows so they lock properly. I kind of wonder if the mother story was a ploy to get a little extra money – I've heard so many stories like that and PC has warned us that we will always be seen as a rich American, although I recently learned we make less per month than welfare recipients.

I said goodbye to Mo and he set off to return to Khenifra. As I turned the corner on my street, I could smell the smoke of a wood fire. My heart soared when I saw smoke coming from my family's roof – the hammam was stoked up! Oh the absolute joy in my heart when I realized I'd get a good scrubbing. Its been a couple weeks since I've been to the hammam and I was starting to notice the effects. There's really only so much you can do with a bucket of cold water and a bandanna. The hammam was wonderful and I am once again squeaky clean. In the heat, it won't last long, but I will savor it while it lasts. By the way, my apartment doesn't have a shower, so I am hoping I can continue to join my host family for the weekly hammam.

Wedding Fun!

My friend Marja, who lives in EEK, has been out of town for a couple weeks working at summer camps. She's a youth development volunteer and while the youth center is closed during July and August, she is working at a summer camp near Casablanca. Her host sister got married last night, and I went with Marja to the wedding.

Weddings are normally 3 days long, but this one was crammed into one. Normally, the first day is for the groom, the second day for the bride and the third day for the couple. I'm still trying to figure out everything involved in the weddings. They are usually held at home, but are still expensive affairs. We arrived at 10pm in time to hang out for a couple hours before things really started happening. The women were in one room, men in another. We drank tea and ate dinner around 12:30am. By the time the meal was finished it was pushing 2am and everyone moved to the roof.

It had been tented and the floor covered with carpets. There were ponjs around the perimeter and pillows on the floor where people could sit. It was quickly crowded and more and more people kept coming. Apparently, since the party goes all night, the neighbors all join in for this portion of the party. They family had hired a “band” - I forget the proper name for them, but its a group of male musicians that includes a drum, violin, recorder-like instrument and a vocalist. There are also four women who do traditional dances.

We stayed until 4:30am and the groom still hadn't made his appearance! There was dancing and singing and they did some things with the bride while we were there, but I'm pretty sure we missed the actual “wedding.” I kept getting wafts of what I thought smelled like beer, but dismissed it as my mind playing tricks on me. I later learned that there was indeed “shrab” or alcohol at the party.

The dancing was interesting, because the corner with the alcohol was surrounded by all the young men. The next layer of people was young women and there was quite a bit of male/female dancing in that corner of the roof. I was somewhat surprised - although Morocco is more tolerant than other Muslim countries, I hadn't seen men and women dance together.

Sick again!

I was exhausted last night when I went to bed and I woke up with a fever and flu symptoms. Gross! It's souk and my counterpart Said was supposed to be in town, so I dragged myself out of bed and took a couple Tylenol. I made it to the post office and decided to come home. Some kids were yelling “tiromine” at me, which means foreigner when I walked out of the post office. Souk was super crowded and I couldn't handle all the people and animals, so I went home and slept for a couple hours. When I emerged from my room, my host mom teasingly scolded me for sleeping all day and missing lunch. I told her I wasn't feeling well and she asked if I wanted to eat tagine – they had saved me some! I couldn't handle much in the way of food, so I agreed to eat some bread. When I walked into the living room to sit down, I saw a plate of “shalada” which is onions and tomatoes chopped up and seasoned with salt and cumin. Its one of may favorite things to eat and I almost burst into tears at how thoughtful my host mom was. I was in need of some TLC and she definitely gave me a little.

Another Trip to Fes

I met my friend Jonathan in Fes this weekend and we had a wonderful time. We spent most of Saturday wandering and getting lost in the medina. Once we got beyond some of the touristy areas, it was surreal – narrow alleys, dead ends, people going about their daily lives. I read something interesting about Fes recently – few of the homes in the medina have first floor windows and if they do, they are usually covered. Its true and its because as the city was built, wealthy families lived beside poor families and without windows you wouldn't know who lived where. This concept hit home when Jonathan and I found ourselves lost and decided to follow signs for a tapestry cooperative.

It was a short walk and we quickly found ourselves in a beautiful building, but you wouldn't know it from the outside. There was a wooden sign hanging above a nondescript doorway, but once you entered, it was a whole new world. A docent/salesman introduced himself and told us about the home. It dates to the 14th century and was recently restored by UNESCO! It was obviously one of those wealthy families that built the house because the tile work and attention to detail was stunning. The tapestry cooperative is now housed there and one room had carpets seemingly stacked floor to ceiling.

When we regained our senses, the gentleman led us to the roof, which was literally breathtaking. We could see the entire medina spreading around us in all directions. Words truly can't describe how incredible it was – you'll have to look at the pictures. I was struck by the vastness and the thought of everything that happens in the medina – food markets, clothes markets, tanneries, people living, tourist attractions, mosques, and universities, much of it continuing as it has for centuries. The modern satellite dishes on almost every roof are a striking contrast to the centuries-old building they reside on.

Juice is big in Morocco – not just orange juice, which you can find just about anywhere, but avocado and almond “juice,” which is like a milk shake. Any kind of fruit or nut you can put in a blender can find its way into your juice. One of my personal favorites is avocado, almond and prune – don't laugh - the prunes add a nice sweetness. While walking in the medina, Jonathan mentioned finding a place to get juice and I immediately got visions of these “fancy” juices in my head. We did find a cafe with orange juice, but no other juices. I was a little disappointed, but couldn't shake the idea of a good juice.

We later found a medersa, which served as a dorm for poor, rural men studying at the mosques. There are several in Fes and I don't remember which one we visited, but it was stunning despite its less than well-preserved appearance. Medersas were built all over the Middle East beginning in the 1st century. The ones in Fes date to the 14th century and were used almost continuously until the 1950's.

We ate lunch at McDonald's and it was less than impressive. Unlike the U.S. where the golden arches are a cheap lunch, the cost was the equivalent of going to eat at a decent restaurant in Fes. Although the fries certainly tasted like McDonald's fries, it wasn't worth it.

On our way back to the hotel, we passed an ice cream and I poked my head in to see if they had juice. I was so happy to see a basket of avocados and other assorted fruits! I made Jonathan stop for a quick juice even though we had both just said how tired we were. It was wonderful!

Another MEDA Meeting

The K-5 attended our second MEDA staff meeting today. Once again the day started wonderfully with lunch together in Khenifra at our favorite pizza place. The pizza isn't great, but its centrally located and one of only 2 restaurants that offer anything other than tagines and sandwiches.

My cell phone stopped sending text messages over the weekend. This might not sound tragic, but since this is the cheapest way to communicate, it is my main connection to other volunteers. I had fiddled with the settings to no avail and took it to the young man who works in the teleboutique where I buy my phone cards. He spent a good 15 minutes checking it out and told me it was a problem with the network. He suggested going to the Maroc Telecom office in Khenifra, which I did before the MEDA meeting.

I was thrilled when I walked into an air-conditioned office which was mostly empty. I thought this would take 15 or 20 minutes and I'd be on my way. I took a number and waited a couple minutes for my turn. In my best Tamazight, I explained the situation to the customer service man. He called someone else over and this man played around with my phone, but couldn't find anything wrong. He asked me to come back tomorrow. I told him I couldn't come back tomorrow and told him where I lived. They looked me up in the computer and declared that I didn't have a contract. This was correct, but I was using the prepaid phone cards – no contract needed. They suggested a new SIM card and the customer service guy disappeared to an upstairs area for a while. He returned with a stack of SIM cards, but then called the next customer over. He tried putting a new SIM card in my phone, but it didn't work. He didn't explain this to me, but just set my phone down. Apparently the next customer needed a new SIM card, too and they fixed him up immediately. This had now taken 45 minutes and I got the impression that the customer service guy was going to ignore me. He called the next customer. I picked up my phone and handed it to him and asked for the new SIM card. He told me to go to a teleboutique to buy one. I couldn't see how the teleboutique would have a card that would work, but he wouldn't. The teleboutiques are independent shops that sell phone cards and SIM cards, but they aren't officially affiliated with Maroc Telecom.

I was extremely frustrated because before I could clarify, he called the next person. ARGH! Was it because I'm a foreigner, an unaccompanied woman? Why wouldn't he help me? I left because I was going to be late for the MEDA meeting.

After last month's meeting, we were all frustrated, so Elizabeth and Jake invited their tutor to the meeting to translate. This was not received well and we spent a good 15 minutes going back and forth with Mr. S. He explaining that this was an internal meeting and only staff were allowed. Point taken by us, but what is the point of sitting through a meeting we won't understand? Mr. S told us it would get easier as we learned the language, except that we are all learning Tamazight and they conduct meetings in French and Arabic. Finally, they brought in Mr. C who I think is the number 2 person at MEDA and who speaks English. He explained again what Mr. S had told us and we conceded, but then he left and we sat through a meeting we didn't understand.

I later asked Said why Mr. C couldn't or wouldn't stay to help us understand the meeting and he told me that he isn't responsible for this area of the project. I'm not used to this kind of response to things – I'm used to the “if we have the resources, we should use them” kind of response. If I was running the show, I'd want to make sure the volunteers knew what was going on. I'm not in charge, so I contented myself with Said's explanation of the meeting. We've gotten to be friends over the past month and he has patiently explained as much as he can to me about MEDA and the projects they are working on in and around my village.

I asked Said to help me with my phone, thinking maybe something was lost in translation. He took me to a friend of his in Khenifra who owns a technology hanut that rivals Best Buy. It took about an hour, but he diagnosed the problem as an old program on my cell phone that doesn't work with the Maroc Telecom's new network. For 20Dh he put the new program on my cell phone and I didn't have to buy a new SIM card or a new phone, which would have run me 400Dh! The best part is that I'm back in touch with my friends!

On our way to the taxi station, Said and I stopped for a juice at the patisserie. We must have taken our sweet time because by the time we got to the station, there were no more taxis to the Sisterhood! Yikes! We tried a couple options for getting me home – calling my host dad to see if he was around, Said calling friends who have cars, etc. but we weren't successful. Since I had come for the day, I wasn't prepared to spend the night in Khenifra and Marja, the volunteer who lives in El Kebab was out of town, so I couldn't crash with her. I ended up buying out a taxi to take me home. I had to pay round trip since it was too late for him to pick up passengers for the ride back. I tried my best to haggle with him – chatted him up on the ride, used my best Tamazight, talked about how I am a volunteer and a friend of Said's (he is a friend of Said's so I thought that might work), even talked about my brother after he told me he served with American troops in the Balkans, but nothing worked. I reluctantly handed him the cash when we got to my village. He insisted on giving me his phone number and told me to come to his house to meet his family and eat couscous, like we were old pals.

I certainly learned my lesson the hard way – don't stay past 7pm in Khenifra! It would have cost me half of what I paid for the taxi to get a hotel room in Khenifra, which is an alternative should I find myself stuck in Khenifra again.

Party Time!

I slept in today, knowing that I didn't have anything to do and that we wouldn't leave for the party until early evening. When I finally emerged from my room around 10am, Fatima was dressed like she was going somewhere and there was a flurry of activity in the house. The whole family was going to nearby Tighsline, which has souk on Saturdays. Fatima told me to stay home and relax and that I could eat lunch down the street at Mouna's house. WOW, could today get any better? I get the whole house to myself for some much needed and appreciated alone time.

I read, I watched TV in English, I read some more. It was downright heavenly! About the TV, most families have a satellite dish and get more channels than I could possibly imagine and there are a handful in English. My personal favorite for news is Al-Jazeera International, which provides some of the best world news coverage I have seen and produces some amazing specials about issues in the news. A recent one was about the U.S.'s ethanol policy and the impact it could/is having on world food prices and availability. There is also a series of MBC channels that show movies, old and new American TV shows and cartoons. Tom and Jerry and Looney Toons are wildly popular – I never fully appreciated these cartoons as a kid. They seemed so silly, but seeing Zuhir and Jalil crack up over and over at these classic cartoons has helped me develop an appreciation for them. I haven't figured out the schedule, but Oprah, Days of Our Lives and several other American shows are shown in prime time.

Back to my really amazing day, I took my usual afternoon nap and fell asleep to the sounds of American TV. My family returned home around 4pm and we had tea. They showed off their new purchases – mostly new clothes for all of the kids to wear to the party. Everyone changed into their party clothes and piled into my Haddou's car. We drove to “T” the nearby village my host mom is from and hung out at her parents house for a while. The kids ran around in the fields, trying to knock the ripe plums from the trees.

The party was next door and was a relatively quiet affair. The men hung out in separate rooms from the women and children, although, the boys are allowed in both rooms. Most of the time was spent chit-chatting and taking care of the small children. I don't think we ate until midnight and it was close to 2am by the time we got home. I was surprised there wasn't music or dancing, but there was still a festive feel to the evening. As far as I could tell, they didn't do anything special for the woman who is leaving.

I give her a lot of credit. Her husband has been working and living in France for a while and they finally saved enough money for her to join him. She doesn't speak any French and is leaving behind her family, friends and everything she knows.

Under My Umbrella-ella-ella

Rihanna is performing in Casablanca this month! WOW! It rained today and I was having lunch with a family that lives a little outside the main part of town. They were trying to convince me to stay for tea, but I had told my host mom that I would be home to go to the hammam with her. That explanation wasn't working, so I used the rain as an excuse to go. It was barely drizzling, but the storm clouds were rolling in. Their son Said was telling me I needed an umbrella, but I didn't know the word for umbrella and it sounds like the word for “later,” which was confusing because I thought he was telling me to stay later. We had a somewhat circular conversation until someone straightened me out.

Their daughter, Naima, walked me home and I was explaining to her that I always slip on the steep path that leads to their house and that the boys hanging around always laugh at me. Just as I finished telling her this, I slipped on a relatively easy portion of the trail and landed on my butt. We both had a good laugh about this and when we got to the steep part, she showed me a shortcut that is more manageable than the trail I knew and runs next to a couple houses, so the boys don't congregate there.

This path went past a fig tree, which has good figs. Naima had pointed out a couple trees where the figs were “no good,” and I told her how much I liked figs and that it was sad that we couldn't eat the figs. This tree with good figs had quite a few that were ripe and Naima hiked her skirt and started climbing among the branches to pick them. Both her and I had large handfuls of figs when Hafida, the tree's owner, joined us! I offered her the figs in my hand and she just laughed. I guess Naima regularly “steals” her figs! Hafida kindly gave us each a bag to carry our figs home and told me to come to her house whenever I wanted a fig.

Have you ever eaten a fig straight from the tree? It is a heavenly experience and the figs at home pale in comparison to these. I shared the figs with my family when I got home and told them that I love figs, but we don't have them where I live in the U.S. They were somewhat shocked by this information and then told me to eat the rest of them. I happily obliged.

Rihanna is coming to Casablanca....this is completely irrelevant information except for the fact that the TV commercial for her concert featured her Umbrella song.

Happy 4th of July! It doesn't feel like it can be this late in the year already. My parents and sister leave this weekend to spend a week with my extended family in upstate New York. It is slightly surreal that life continues as usual back home and everyone is going to BBQ's and fireworks and enjoying a 3-day weekend, while today was just another day in Morocco. Some of my PC friends who live near the Mediterranean are camping at the beach this weekend. I am a little green with envy.

We PC volunteers do not observe American Holidays, we observe Moroccan holidays, so today is just another work day. Plus, the new volunteers like me are not allowed to take vacation time during our first 3 months of service. The beach is too far away for me to get there and back in 2 days. Have I mentioned I'm a little bummed?

Party Dress

I spent most of today at souk and meeting with my counterpart Said, who was in the Sisterhood. By the time I returned home, it was tea time and I joined my family in the family room. Souk days are a bit crazy at my host family's house – their family from the nearby village comes to town for souk and uses the house as a home base. There are usually 5 to 10 more adults and a handful of kids around. Throughout the day, their purchases pile up in the entryway, so I didn't really make much of the ubiquitous black plastic bags that were stacked in the hallway when I arrived.

After tea, nobody got up and left like they usually do. The conversation turned to me – I couldn't quite figure out what they were saying, but someone told Zuhir to go get the bag. He quickly returned and handed me one of the black plastic bags. “Open it!” everyone told me. My host sister, Sumia, had the biggest smile on her face and everyone else was watching me expectantly. I opened the bag to find a polyester outfit in maroon with black flowers! I had absolutely no idea what to do. I must have looked confused because they told me to go try it on. Still rather confused, I tried it on and discovered that the skirt was tight. Thinking this was my “out” I returned to the living room with the shirt and my own pants on and explained the situation.

The only solution was to return to souk and find a bigger size. By this time it was early evening and the vendors were starting to pack up. Despite this, Sumia, my host uncle and Zuhir and I quickly headed to souk and found the vendor nearly completely packed up. He gladly opened one of his large boxes to reveal several versions of the outfit I had just tried on – white with gold flowers, black with gold flowers, black with white flowers and another to match mine. None of them had sizes, so I suggested holding up the skirt I had tried on to see if any of them were larger. This was interpreted as taking all of them home and trying them on. We rushed back home and all the women in the house ushered into my room for the fashion show. There I was with my host mom, aunt, cousin and Sumia – all of them watching and waiting for me to start modeling.

Seeing no other option, I grabbed the first outfit and tried it on. We went through all of them, my host mom reassuring me that the skirts were not too tight and me protesting as best I could in Tamazight. Without a full length mirror, I was relying on their judgment of what was appropriate or too tight. I try to call as little attention to myself with my clothing by wearing long, flowing skirts that don't hug my hips or loose-fitting pants that don't draw attention to my backside. This new skirt was decidedly hugging my hips and would probably have been completely fine if I was at home, but I am in Morocco where the men stare and tell me how beautiful I am when I'm in an over-sized t-shirt and sweatpants. By the time we got to the last skirt, which was identical to the one my family picked out, I was holding out hope that none would fit. But as soon as I slipped it on, my host mom smiled and said this was the one. It was indeed looser fitting than the others and didn't hug my hips.

We dashed back to souk, where my host uncle was waiting. He wouldn't let me pay or even help to pay for the outfit, which was rather expensive. We returned home and I wondered what would happen to the matching outfit that was still sitting at home. I didn't have to wonder for long, because my host mom handed it to Sumia and she took it home with her. My next mission was to find out why I needed a new party dress and I asked Mamaw, my host-cousin. She told me there was a baby-naming party over the weekend. For good measure, I also asked my host mom, who told me that a cousin I had met previously was moving to France and there was a going away party for her. Turns out the party is on Saturday evening in a nearby village.

My Typical Monday

Mondays are the day that my counterparts Rachida and Said are in their office in EEK. It is souk day in EEK so many people from the surrounding towns and villages that Rachida and Said work with travel to EEK to do their weekly shopping and they stop in the office to say hello and take care of paperwork. Sarah and I are the K-5 volunteers assigned to work with Said and Rachida, so we go to the office on Mondays.

I get up early, at 7 or 7:30 to get ready and make sure I catch a taxi by 8:30 or 9am. If I am any later, the taxis are gone and I have to wait a while or walk out to the main road. My host mom usually insists on my eating breakfast, but breakfast usually isn't ready before I want to leave, so I try to “sneak” out when she is milking the cow or otherwise occupied.

The taxi usually isn't full when I get there so I make a quick run to the post office to check my mail and to send any letters I've written over the weekend. By the time I get back, the taxi is usually full and we are on our way. The taxi is a 15 to 20 minute ride and EEK is busy by the time we get there.

I haven't figured out the office schedule, because some Mondays, Rachida and Said are there and in full swing when I arrive and other times I've sat outside reading my book until 10:30 or 11am waiting for someone show up. So far, there hasn't been any work that Sarah and I can help with, so we catch up with each other and try to get information out of Said and Rachida. They are busy actually working, so I feel a bit awkward pestering them with questions. Sarah and I usually stick around for an hour or two and then take off to meet Marja, the youth development volunteer who lives in EEK. We meet for lunch and sometimes hit the internet cafe or go to souk. By the time we return to the office around 3 or 4pm Said and Rachida are wrapping things up and there is more time to talk. I stay and chat with Said about the things happening in my village and he patiently answers all of my questions.

Around 5 or 6pm I head back to the taxi stand to get a ride home. For some reason, they really cram people in on this route. Once I counted 13 people in a station wagon – 4 in the way back, 5 in the middle and 4 in front! The front seat was interesting because it was the driver, 2 women and me. One woman was straddling the gear shift and I was sharing the front seat with another woman. Talk about uncomfortable! The woman next to the driver had her jelaba hiked up and she had to kind of stand up every time the driver shifted gears.

Its usually tea time when I get home and Fatima, my host brothers and I sit down for an early evening snack. Sometimes I accompany Sumia to the spring to get water and other evenings I simply relax and try to process the day. Mondays are good because I have a set schedule and I get to speak a little English!