Reason #2 Rabat

Downtown in the capital city of Rabat.

Ahh, I heard last week that my mother didn't win Kansas Teacher of the Year at a Saturday banquet. She's still honored as District 1 Elementary Teacher of the Year. Mom, I'm happy for you. The light of recognition doesn't always shine on the righteous, so I'm glad you've been rightly honored. I thought of you recently when reading a line from the poetry of Wislawa Szymborska, in which she says "you're small, but you fly with mighty wings." Happy Thanksgiving!

Above is a photo outside the preschool in my site. I enjoy how the photo captured the hug and eyes closed.

Reason #1 Toubkal National Park

I'll give you 10 reasons over the next couple weeks as to why you should visit me. And it's not because the weather is becoming bleak and I'm beginning to suffer from sensory deprivation. That's not the case; the weathers chilly, but nice and my site is green.

This is Toubkal Nat'l Park, located in the Atlas Mountains, which is in the South between Marrakech and Ouarazate. Thousands of Berbers live within its boundaries.

Photo courtesy of Nate St. Amand.

Three Girls

Berber girls in the Atlas Mts down South. Photo taken by PCV Andy Tibbs.

Visiting Me

For those who may visit me next year, here’s a itinerary that we might follow. Morocco has recently been brought into European air space, allowing travelers to find cheap budget flights from airlines like EasyJet or JetBlue. I heard one person found a round trip ticket from NY-Mellila for $500. That’s more likely a one way price.

*Mellila- Fly into this Spanish provence on the Mediterranean coast.
*My Site- Drop off 30 lbs of peanut butter, oatmeal, and ranch dressing, 40 books, and spend 3-4 days in my community.
*Taza- home to some of the largest caves in Africa
*Fes- a UNESCO world heritage site and the cultural capital.
*Sefrou- Jewish community
*Azrou/Ifrane- beautiful hiking and waterfalls
*Volubilis- ancient Roman ruins
*Rabat- the capital
*Tangiers- international city. Europe is visible across the Strait of Gibraltar.
*Chefchaouen -- a small, old city in the Rif Mountains.
*Essaouria- best beach city with white sand.
*Marrakech- most well known tourist destination; diverges all of Morocco’s cultures.
*Merzouga- one of the doors into the Sahara. Home to large sand dunes. Camel riding
*London/Madrid- If you take a return flight from either city, I hope you’ll let me bum along, paying for my hotel room and my $4 cup of coffee.

Most of the traveling can be done via train, which is nice and safe. Otherwise, there are nice buses available to all of these destinations. One of the attributes that I like about Graham is that he likes to travel but he doesn’t like to travel. While Josh could spend all day climbing rocks and camping in trees, Graham and I are in agreement about taking it a little easier. Hiking is nice when you can look forward to a hotel room at the end of the day. So if you want to visit and put me up in hotels with mints on the pillows for most of the trip, I won’t complain.

Q and A: Safety

“Do you continue to make smart choices with your safety in mind?”

Yes, I think I’m safe. I’ll answer this in three parts- the role of my parent org Peace Corps, what I’ve done and do to protect myself and how I feel others decisions have affected me. I’ll veer off course too.

First, I play it smart when it comes to my safety, but even if I didn’t, PC Morocco has many safety policies via Washington lawyers to keep us in check. “Safety and security” is the slogan here, and the preferential treatment it receives I believe often overshadows the IGOs role as a development agency. I disagree with this, but can understand the reasoning.

I think the safety restrictions are overkill, but I’m also not responsible for the lives of other volunteers. There are a few countries, Morocco included, that I feel PC is in for diplomatic reasons first, development second. Jordan and China are two others. To clarify, Morocco is a 2nd world country, 3rd world in some areas. It has real needs, but I consider these infrastructure improvements, not like in some areas of sub-Saharan Africa. This diplomatic role pleases me and I think development and good will are synonymous.

In my site, I feel completely safe. I’m someone’s neighbor, friend, or brother and I know I now have people looking out for me, much less watching me with curiosity. I’m more afraid of mentally unstable dogs. In my market town of Jerada, I am fairly safe, although I’ve got some hard looks. It is a tough place, a burned out mining town. However, the best defense I’ve found is well timed eye contact and a smile. Beyond that, being male helps.

The biggest safety risk here is transportation. Thailand has tuk-tuks and Vietnam has riskshaws. New York has yellow taxis and London has black ones. Morocco has the white 1985 Mercedes Benz 240 SL, or “death on wheels.” It’s not the vehicle, but the drivers ambitions and a lack of law enforcement on the highways that make for a fast, reckless ride on the highway. Seven people die of automobile fatalities everyday in Morocco. My Grandpa Collins once said that when riding a motorcycle, you should sing “Near My God to Thee.” Maybe that applies to my taxi rides.

Finally, I want to reflect on how international politics effects on my life here. But I want more time with this and will return to the question later. I’ve been boning up on Arab and Islamic history as well as reading “idea” books on global politics that are applicable. I’d like to do as as W.B. Yeats said, "to hold in a single thought reality and justice."

Hope Springs Eternal

For my two parents and my third reader, I apologize that I haven't written much in the last month. Stuffed from Ramadan and in a funk after an Ayn Rand novel, I have taken some time off to continue my english teaching, start up squash and chess with Graham, and shuffle back and forth to the Parks dept 40 km away. It's mid November, but I'm still swimming in the river at my site, which is currently flooded from heavy rains. It's as green now as it was in May. The temperature at midday is probably 70 F, with it dropping down to maybe 50 in the evenings. Anyways, I promise to post more next Tues.

End of Ramadan

Ramadan is coming to a close with the holiday Aid Al Fitr tommorrow and Wednesday capping off the month long festives. It has been difficult, if not chaotic at times. Hunger and thirst, shops closed, expectations of respecting faith sometimes tangling with assumptions of the faithless. But overall, a great experience that I wouldn't trade. I didn't fast all the time; not when traveling, hiking, or for several days after the first week when I became ill. But I found when I did, it made the evening meal, lftar more enjoyable. It makes you more thankful and it can teach you that the sweet isn't as sweet without the sour.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Hope its a good one. Right to left. “Eid Milad Said” or Holiday-Birth-Happy.

The E in Eid is actually ع and it doesn’t exist in English. It requires pronouncing the ‘a’ in “fat” with the tongue against the bottom of the mouth and from as deep in the throat as possible. Arabic vocabulary is not nearly as difficult as the pronunciation. Say something like “holiday” as “hooliday” in arabic and people might look at you blankly. There are 8 constants like this that don’t exist in English.

It’s funny that before and after this photo, my host brothers and sister were all smiles, laughing, doing handstands against the walls.

Ramadan Part I: thirsty with a headache

Ramadan began last Sunday on the 24th in accordance with the new lunar cycle and will last 30 days. In Saudi Arabia, it began the day before. I’ve been staying with my host family in the evenings to accommodate the schedule, but have also broke fast with 3 other families. Here’s a daily schedule during Ramadan.

6 PM Following call to prayer, fast is broken with prayer and meal iftar
630-8 Primetime TV (4 comedies including bloopers on 2M.)
8-9 Men go to mosque for prayer
9-12 Snack, play cards, TV, etc
12 AM 2nd meal
1230-4 Sleep, talk, play cards, etc
4 AM Breakfast
4 AM-6 PM Sleep, work, etc

Ramadan’s most important feature is the complete abstinence from food and drink from daybreak to sunset. All muslims fast, but travelers, menstruating women, the sick, and the pre-pubescent are exempt. Non-muslims are not expected to fast, but I’ve found its appreciated and an important integration tool at my site. I did not fast the first day; we were traveling and I woke up late.

A good introduction to Ramadan can be found in Riverbend's "Baghdad Burning."

“The most active part of the whole day is the quarter of an hour directly before breaking the fast... the whole family is often in a flurry of action, with someone setting the table, someone carrying the food, someone giving orders about where to put everything... and everyone impatient with hunger. The last five minutes before you hear the call for prayer signifying the end of the fast are always the most difficult. Every second of those last five minutes passes with the heaviness of an hour... you can literally see every one strain to hear the sound of the call for prayer echoing through the Baghdad streets. And then it is finally time for futtoor... and we begin to eat with relish. The platter of rice that seemed ridiculously small 15 minutes ago, is now ‘too much’ and no one eats as much as they had hoped they were going to eat- everyone is exhausted with simply contemplating the food, the choices and the possibilities. After futtoor, the smokers fall upon their cigarettes with an enthusiasm only other smokers can appreciate. We watch them taking puff after puff with a contentment that even screaming kids, and loud televisions cannot taint.”

The previous is true, although smoking is less public and prevalent in my small site. The wrath from some women here might be worse than any physical withdrawal.

I had some anxiety before fasting began. No food intake was not a problem, but I found no drinking unpalatable. Its hard to shake thirst. A few Moroccans like my host brothers sleep through most of the day, but most maintain their daily activities. I feel sorry for those in tourism or the restaurant industry.

Overall, Ramadan is a joyous event. Fasting during the day is to reinforce one’s commitment to faith and to develop appreciation for ones good fortune. Breaking fast and the time spent together in the evenings is a celebration of the gathered family.

“When food is shared and laughter is abundant, family exists.”

Ramble bamble jamble

-Thanks to my grandmas again for their letters a week. Graham just shakes his head with jealousy every time we go into the post office. Grandma Ocie, I received your Turkish cookbook and find it more than adaptable. Thanks. All the ingredients are available to me and there’s no instructions like “preheat your oven.” I don’t know how you preheat a bbq grill with 4 enclosed aluminum walls.

-I also received a package from Mom and Dad. Racquetballs, t-shirt, contacts, cards, etc. Thanks. Playing racquetball with beach paddles inside the house is one way to pass the time. And who knew that Uno would be so popular? It’s a challenger to Rummy at the taxi stand now.

-To a few friends that keep sending me football and baseball teasers, thanks for remembering me. Hope you enjoy those election commercials that break up the games.

-I love the story of Ray LaMontagne, a musician whose debut CD “Trouble” is new to me, although it came out two years ago. He was a quiet man working nights at a shoe factory and he woke up one day to an Allman Brothers tune on the radio. He told himself “I need to learn how to play guitar because this makes me happy.” A year later, he put out a fine CD. Last month he released his sophomore album.

In the footsteps of National Geographic

Josh and I visited the ancient Chouara tanneries in Fes last Sunday, one of three main tanneries in the old medina or Fes el-Bali. This tannery is the largest of the three, is over 600 years old, and is nearly impossible to find without the help of a guide. After my visit, I came across a recent National Geographic video podcast on ITunes entitled “Toughest Jobs: Tannery Kid.” Its a short clip following the daily life of a young apprentice in I believe the same tannery I visited. I highly recommend watching it.

The Chouara tanneries, like the Guerniz tanneries we also visited, is tucked into a landscape of buildings. A narrow entry leads into an open air area where men wash, clean, and kneed lambskin in a honeycomb of vats. One guidebooks description: “scantily dressed tanners appear like so many human storks...their legs working through the pools, bobbing down to worry a skin and then striding off to wash at the fresh-water standpipes.” The NG documentary describes this as one the “foulest smelling places on earth” because of the skin excrement and pigeon droppings (collected from rooftops and used to soften the leather) in standing water. However, walking around the tannery, I didn’t find the smell that strong; probably because it was not enclosed and the temperature was temperate. A windowless meat packing plant seems worse.

It is a difficult job though. Long hours, physical work, and little pay. While two finished lambskins or a pair of native Babouche slippers sell for around 100 dhms ($12), daily wages start at 20 dhms for an apprentice up to 50 dhms for an experienced tanner. By comparison, construction workers make 50-80 dhms daily and teachers have a monthly salary of around 2500 dhms. Rent in my region is between 400-800, 800-2500 in the cities. The poorest families in my region make 5000 dhms ($600) or less annually. And many of those might never visit Fes, Morocco’s cultural mecca five hours away.

Additionally, the federal retirement fund is not available to those outside of government employment, nor do they pay into it. In a recent survey I read, over 95% of Moroccans expect their children or other loved ones to care for them financially and physically when they are no longer able to.


(The Guerniz tanneries above)

Fes: McDonalds and beyond

I traveled to the small, former Jewish town of Sefrou near Fes last weekend with Josh to see a friend. Before and during WWII, Morocco had a vibrant Jewish population of around 300,000, many of which lived and operated commerce in Fes. During WWII, Morocco protected its Jewish population from the genocidal policies of Europe even while it was under French control. Following the establishment of the state of Israel after the war, many Moroccan Jews emigrated to the Middle East.

Sefrou was interesting, but Fes was more exciting. Five synagogues remain in the jewish quarter, the oldest built in the 17th century. Its a testament to Moroccans tolerance that they encourage Islam, but don’t prostatalize their faith. Those I do meet that push religion are often strangers who I feel are trying to get in my back pocket. Their actions seem contradictory.

Passing through Fes on our way home, we stopped for lunch at McDonald’s around noon Sunday. The first day of Ramadan, we walked in and were alone when we received our food. It was strange sight when we saw approximately twenty white faces walking towards us in the restaurant. We found out later that these were Americans and Europeans that lived in the city and had just attended a bilingual Christian service. I’ve heard that their is a gated Christian missonary in Fes, but I haven’t confirmed this. It would also be illegal; passing out bibles is an easy way to receive the go to jail card or be deported. Anyways, I talked with several Americans there, but Josh and I found that we couldn’t stop staring at them. Their response was to ignore us.

Happy New Years Yesterday

What doesn’t change and remain, remains and grows strange. -Walt Whitman

The fall season is barreling in with several storms over the last weeks. Autumn weather is made for both expression and melancholy. For me, Autumn and the now passed September are also like the beginning of new year. Maybe this is conditioning from years of schooling. Like a new term, it comes with mixed feelings. Not wanting to leave the past behind, but anxious for the future. Having been in Morocco now eight months, I feel I’m settled and comfortable, but I look forward or dread several challenges in the coming months and year. One of those could be winter; Moroccans make a big deal of the season. They say once you become cold, its hard to warm up. Right now, I’ll embrace the chill in the air as the start of something new.

Q and A

I’ve been busy with work and travel lately. I want to finish things before Ramadan begins this Sunday, a period when I perceive everything will slow to a crawl. I’ll try to post something longer next week, but will open it up for a Q and A. I reason that many things that might be foreign to others are now normal for me. I also have an inquisitive extended family (ie Anna & Co.). Just post a question in the comments section and I’ll try to answer it a timely basis. This can be a continuing conversation; no need for a deadline.

Congratulations is due to my mother. Earlier this year she was selected as the Master Teacher from USD 417 and she’s recently been selected as 1 of 8 finalists for Kansas Teacher of the Year, to be announced in November. Mom, I’m happy for you. It’s a well deserved honor.

I’ve also updated “my photos.”

After another storm

After I a storm last week, I walked upon these two men digging a well a short distance from my house. There was a man probably 15 feet down; he had not reached water yet.

Police silhouette

A police office at a government building in Oujda. Photos of law enforcement and the military are discouraged; I’ve heard they’ll take your film. I find it more interesting that we’re not allowed to take a photo of the U.S. Embassy in Rabat, although you can go up to the gate and talk with the marines on duty.

In our region, we’re not governed by the police, but by the gendarms (ie county cops). We report when leaving or returning to the area to the chief officer. During the recent Israeli-Lebanon crisis, he called everyday to find our location and called ahead if we were traveling somewhere. Tensions have since subsided following the ceasefire. His main concern that he vocalizes to us now is European Moroccans, those natives that work in Spain, France, and the Netherlands for 10 months and then return home. Many send money back to their families, thus providing a much needed income, particularly in the north. Some also return for two months of carousing, which is something the country has not assimilated yet.

Outside my cyber cafe

The down and out

“I remember the first time I saw someone lying on the cold street,
I thought, I can’t walk past here, this can’t just be true.
But I learned by example to just keep moving my feet,
it’s amazing the things that we all learn to do.”
-from Ani DiFranco’s song “Subdivision.”

Beggars are common here, particularly in larger cities. Homelessness exists too, although it seems less public than in the states. No one pushes shopping carts or sleeps in the public parks. There are small Hoovervilles, but they exist on the periphery and in cracks of the ‘imperial cities’. I also believe less of the population per capita is homeless than in the U.S., perhaps because households are larger and housing is cheaper. However, these unfortunate souls don’t receive any government assistance. There is no help, where there might be a soup kitchen and a shelter stateside.

As an example, as Graham and I were returning late one weekend night to a hotel in Fes two months ago, we saw in front of us in the corner a mother sleeping with her three children, none older than ten. Her youngest, probably less than a year, was sandwiched between her and the others.

Hmm.. in this situation, what do you do? No stores were open to buy them any food. Do you wake her up and give her money? In John Steinbeck’s depression era novel “The Grapes of Wrath,” one hapless character, in response to a lack of government or outside aid, tells his son “the poor take care of themselves.” This is unacceptable and is the injustice that Steinbeck was trying to give voice to.

Later, Steinbeck says “the poor will always be with us.” True, but how does one ease their burden? Like that night when I walked past that young family on the street, we have the answers, but lack the will (..or something) to act.

Fantasia

The eight day wedding that I wrote about in one of my last posts concluded last week with Fantasia, pictured above. In this event, horsemen line up at one end of an open field, wait for a period, then they get the horses to rise up on their back legs in unison. Next, they charge down the field and fire their rifles together. This is often done in several waves which follow each other. To his chagrin, if a rider misfires noticeably late or early, they tease him by making him dismount and walk his horse back. In all, this is repeated for several hours.