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.