Rodent update

So I thought I was clever and put out a metal trap with a cookie inside but he ate it, uncaught and no crumbs left behind! I also stuffed a blanket under the crack of the door but he pushed through it, enough so that I could see it was large, gray and fast. Upon seeing me he retreated fortunately and called for me to reinforce my barricade efforts. After that night, my first sighting and the failure with the trap I put out a few more lures and did an obsessive cleaning of my house, searching high and low for any creature or creature gates. That night I did not have any bites. I think he might have left? How, I do not know.
Maybe he's still here... lurking around, playing it quiet until I give up my paranoia. Clever creatures.

Check him out

Some beautiful pictures of Morocco by a talented Moroccan photographer:

http://www.phototechnique.org/

Rodents at night

I woke up last night with the feeling something was sniffing my hair. My room is so dark and quiet that sometimes I cannot tell if it is a dream or if I am awake. I thought maybe it was a ghost, that surprisingly comforted me but then logic slowly rolled in yet I refused to think more deeply into it. I settled on believing it was a puppy and dreamt of that for a while. Then again, something awoke me, I felt it. Something large was on my pillow by my head and what must have been its nose in my hair. I froze for a minute not knowing what to do. What if it bites?
I ran as fast as I could to the light switch and alas, I found nothing. I believe it to be a large rodent and it is taking up the same space as I am. At 4 am I found it nearly impossible to go back to sleep despite my drowsiness. I left the lights on, put on a movie, adorned my head with a thick wool cap and buried myself under my sheets.
What does one do when they find the rat I wonder? Am I supposed to kill it with my bare hands, or gently ask it if it would not mind living outside or in the barn next door. I am not sure if I can sleep soundly until I find the creature. I left a metal rat trap out with a cookie inside but I feel bad if it goes for the trick. The trap looks terrible and inhuman. And then, when I come home and it is in there, possibly still alive how do I free it from the metal jaws and where shall I put it?
Oh dear creature, I wish that you never stumbled into this house for we cannot be together but I must stay.

The Wall

From the summer until this winter I have witnessed development and change from my own window. Some change good, some not so good. I used to have a view of the brook from my living room window but now I have the view of a tall, white obstructive wall. I am not the only one saddened by this addition but so is most of my village. It was an initiative I hear came from the Common Rural who is in charge of the area. People are upset about not only the aesthetics of the wall but also how it inhibits access to the running water that we occasionally need when the water is turned off for days at a time. The brook is used for washing dishes, clothes and collecting water for cleaning purposes. The wall follows the brook throughout the entirety of the village. It is double the high it was originally so that one standing next to it could not peak over the edge. The Common Rural then decided to paint it white, taking away from the natural look of our environment.
Almost every day for the two months work was being done on the wall there were arguments from the village folk who were protesting the wall. To add to the problem the men who had to camp out in front of the wall, in front of my house, appeared to have no respect for the land. They littered all over the place, and desecrated in what is my front lawn. As they were out of towners they also did not know who I was and would stare into my windows if I had them open and comment to me as I entered and left my house.
Aside from my own issues with the project I am most disappointed that none of the locals appeared to have been asked about this new addition. Two young men were also jailed in Meknes for it because they vocally expressed their disgust with the construction project and lack of respect for their land and environment. The wall has taken away the beauty of the visual element of the running brook and even the pleasant sounds of the running water.
People see this as just another example of the corruption in Morocco on the local government level. Many have told me that it is a project that the Common Rural could do so they can say they spent money on a project when in fact they will pocket the majority of the money for themselves. This is not the first time I have heard of things like this happening. In fact, I have heard this story all too much from so many different communities. When people stand up to these issues they get jailed, or put on a black list of sorts. It is your word against the authorities and the people’s word doesn’t mean much of anything. So the wall stays.
It is disappointing because the money could have been used for more practical issues such as the water pipes that have burst and are creating a lake in front of my house, or to finish the children’s center which was started a year and a half ago and hasn’t been worked on since I have been here, or the transportation problem that we have. It is difficult for me to have to remove myself from this issue as we are not and should not be involved in anything political but I need to at least make people aware of this corruption and clear violation of people’s human right of freedom of expression.

Technology Woes

My computer has been malfunctioning the past week. I even had to restart the whole thing and lost some pictures which is a little unsettling. As the loss of anything will, I have been contemplating about what this loss means to me. I am living in the mountains in Africa where people live off less than a dollar a day and I have wireless internet in my house, my Itunes playing at my whim and entertainment in the evening by watching the newest movie I received from swapping with other volunteers.
The days without my computer I felt unproductive, lonely and frustrated. But when I think about how I feel when I have it I also feel I should be out communicating face to face with people here, I feel bombarded by all of the information available at my fingertips. I think that I have become addicted to being connected and entertained by this machine. When it doesn’t work I read more, visit more people, I draw and cook more labor intensive dishes that pay off. Maybe this is a tool that I would do better without. Yet, how would I communicate with you as I am now? I think I need to set computer usage limits because I fear it may become my escape vehicle, inhibiting me from engaging more physically with my immediate environment.

Great Video on Moroccan Youth

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avWCeo205b8&feature=player_embedded

Grande Taxis

There are many forms of transportation in Morocco and you usually have a variety of options. Aside from the more long-standing means, such as donkey’s, camels, mules and horses, people also are moving in more modern standard forms such as taxis, private cars, vans, pick-up trucks, bicycles, mo-peds, trains, airplanes and for the backpacking hiker or the Sheppard, by foot.
The vast majority of my transportation experiences have been in taxis and each experience is unique. I pick up taxis out of my hamlet to get into the larger town nearby. I frequently find myself waiting anywhere from 5 -30 minutes for transport. If I am lucky I might just be that last person to fill in the taxi. In general, taxis will not take off unless all seats of the car are filled to maximize efficiency and cost. A 5 mile ride into the larger town costs me 4 dh (.52). Almost all grand taxis in Morocco are old German Mercedes. It is a living testament to German car manufacturing until you look closer and notice that the only part of the car that still seems to be from the original is the body. Seats, steering wheel, mirrors, dashboards, and the like seem to be a smorgasbord of objects found here and there or older things re-acclimated for new purposes. I have seen plastic dish drainers used as replacements for the air filters in the car, bumper stickers on the front window at an attempt to hold together cracked glass and plastic vinyl or possible shower curtain as new interior for the doors. Common themes of the new vinyl interior tend to be leopard print or a vibrant arrangement of tropical fish.
Each taxi is uniquely its own on the inside. On the outside, in my larger taxi town all taxis must be a shade of split pea green. Also common to other towns is the classic white and the occasional bursts of color like burnt barn red or turquoise, however these are far and few between. Some taxis are also more reliable than others. One of my main taxi drivers out of my site has a push start car, meaning you literally get out of the car prior to take off and push it until the engine checks in. Then you hop in and drive into town. On this same car, the way back into the village the travel time can take a whie. As the ride back in is mostly downhill, the driver typically turns off his engine and coasts, slowly back in as not to waste gas. He also would not be aware of how much gas he is using as all of the instruments on his dashboard do not work such as speedometer, gas gauge and the like.
Dashboard decorations are also amusing for the passenger. You can see plastic flower arrangements surrounding the whole front window, little carpets for the dashboard, an assortment of hanging rearview mirror decorations, stickers and family pictures. I have however not seen any bobble heads which I feel would be a great addition to the collection. A whole row of bobble head dolls, each one bouncing in unison. What an entertaining distraction from the open road.
Another typical feature of taxis is the lack of window handle. If you want to roll down you window you should ask the driver for the one handle to attach onto your respective door to roll it down. However, it is important to know that most Moroccans do not generally like to have the windows down in the taxi; this is something you should be conscious of. I find myself however, in the heat of the summer in a packed taxi, with intermittent car sickness to request permission to roll down the windows. This brings me to the next point, the number of passengers per car. As I said earlier taxis generally will not take off unless they are filled to maximum capacity. If you are in a rush you can opt to buy another seat but this can get expensive. An added benefit however is that you can get the front seat to yourself and roll down the window. A typically taxi, at normal capacity will have the driver and two passengers in the front seat. In the back, four people are expected to fit. This does not take into account the size or girth of fellow passengers. It is to be known that on occasion a butt cheek, leg or foot will fall asleep. On shorter trips you should also not be surprised that the driver out of goodness of his heart will let more get into the taxi. An extra passenger can be found to squeeze in on the left side of the driver or if there is a child in the back he or she will be placed on a lap to make more room.
Infant transport is also a concern of mine. As are the lack of seatbelts and road mannerisms. For one, young children are generally tied up onto the mothers back and the mother rides in the taxi with the child still attached to her in this manner. Seatbelts are a joke, your luck if you find one but even if you do, taxis at their passenger quota does not comply with the seatbelt arrangement in the car. Road manners are typically inexistent. Your car will most likely not follow a speed limit. If there is a car in front of yours, expect that your taxi will try to pass it even if he sees there is traffic in the oncoming lane. Occasionally passengers in the taxi will let the driver know if they agree it’s a good time to pass or not. Near death experiences are a possibility however drivers have seen to turn it into an art form.
Driver and passenger relationships are also dynamic. As some people take the same taxi frequently they get to really know their driver and become close friends. There is typically a lot of conversation in rides between strangers as well. Conversations, from what I have been able to grasp due to my language have revolved around the messages of God, town dramas or the price of vegetables at the market.
Music is also a stimulus during your journey. The driver generally has control and will put in his cassette tapes or a CD, whichever deck he has personally inserted into his car. Music choices in my area generally consist of listening to the Koran, Berber high pitched music that I cannot decipher, or select Arabic singers. I often do not hear a variety. I have become accustom to the few songs that I hear. If a driver has the music off, a passenger, typically a young male, will fill in the silent void with his high-tech musical cell phone. These songs are generally more modern and Western. You are likely to hear rappers like 50 cents, Tupac, or club music. If they only knew what the words translated into I wonder if they would still be allowed to play those songs in this country. Either way, I prefer the silence and a front seat to myself with the windows down.

Sometimes there is more truth in that which is not mentioned.

I realize that some of my recent blogs have sounded like they are coming from a dark place, or that my experience here is all struggles. This is not so and I feel I must apologize to my readers. I have many great and wonderful things occur around me from day to day. It just so happens that when I feel I should sit down to write it is typically when I need to do it for therapeutic reasons. My schedule and life here is very busy which is great but I realize that I want to also share that with you, my reader, more of the good, exciting stories. So following this post, that is what will be coming. In between studying for my GRE’s and working on my projects here I will be writing and filling you in on what has happened, my observations, and a few other tidbits I hope you find interesting. So stay tuned, more is to come.
Topics:
Moroccan weddings
Taxis
Summer Camp
Artisan update
Film project
Places I have been
Trip back home
Insects in and around my home
and more…..

Want

The feeling of people always wanting some material good from you and having that run out and then possessing nothing to provide but what’s inside. The exhaustion of want, not need.
Want

A variety of things I have been asked for by children and parents: socks, pens, crayons, markers, money, the exchange of foreign bills such as euro and yen, yogurt, a sharp kitchen knife, old things that I don’t want, jewelry, animal masks, bracelets, my sandals to wear in the city, toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, American cookies and chocolate, yarn, a bicycle pump, a glass of water, sunglasses, to use my toilet.

I am telling you all of this not because I want you to send me anything but because I need to express how taxed I feel having these things. People come to my door, say the polite hello and then ask me for things. Once I say I don’t have it or it’s all gone the conversation is done and they go their way. I feel used; there is always a catch, someone always wanting a material object from me, and not actually any part of me or who I am. It is a lonely feeling; like I am an old forgotten candy dispenser in a VCR rental shop that if you shake enough maybe something will fall out. But most of the times my candy stash is all out.

As a volunteer I am living as a local. I am sure that I probably have more money at the end of the month then a typical family but I am also living alone, getting charged double for things as a foreigner, not buying a satellite, fancy cell phones or washers. I am not the American I believe many expect me to be. I am not the girl on Orange County, or any MTV program for that matter, nor am I a femme fatale from one of the many American action movies played on TV. I am a young American girl, giving two year of her life to volunteer and live in another country with a stagnant pile of student loans anticipating her arrival at home. I have no home besides that of my parents, I sold my car to pay my bills, currently no money in the bank, not making any for my time here and returning home to an economic crisis some say could be the next great depression, amidst the potential crumbling of our nation to other world leaders such as China.

The extent of this would be difficult to describe to people in my village. I can’t imagine the look on their face when I told them exactly how much in school loans I owe when exchanged into the local currency. But still, I do have opportunity and freedom, plinths of the American dream.

I had a bag of 10 little school kits for the kids; ruler, pencil, sharpener, eraser. I gave them out to the first kids who came to my door asking me for things. (In the thesaurus, things is synonymous with obsession, fixation, mania, craze, entity, phenomenon, gadget) They were gone in two days just as the secret was let out in the classroom. This causes stress as I want but can’t provide for all of the children. Desperation. As soon as one knows something went through my front door the entire village knows and I have children and or parents ardently banging on my metal door at intervals of 5 minutes, calling my name and beating until I come to answer. Children who already had received something even come around a second time, bringing either younger siblings, friends , parents or cousins to see if I can give them one more of whatever it is they are asking for. Then later they come back asking if I have something else to dispense; as if I had just received a new shipment of goods through some secret portal to whole sale America that I have hidden in my house.

In retrospect I know that I do technically have a larger accumulation of material goods but I don’t like to relate to those things. This is not the kind of aid that I am looking to provide to people. I am not here to give them more plastic junk to pollute their ecological and cultural systems. I don’t want to be seen as a free garage sale or aid delivery truck. I want to be seen as a person, one with valuable skills, ideas, warmth. I know most of the time it is just kids asking me for things and they don’t know better but it is exhausting and I am left not knowing what to do. The thing that I fear is that I am now hesitant to have anything to give. If I do, within minutes the throbbing sound of fists on my door will begin, and will not stop until repeatedly telling people that I am sorry, I have nothing to give you, it is all gone.
I have nothing to give you.

Energies

I wanted to share some words of wisdom from my old yoga studio in Franklin. Thank you Kaye for your words of inspiration.

* Glued to the news? Ripping open your retirement statements in a panic? Blaming a spouse for a bad investment? Are you taking your worries out on anyone (this includes yourself)?


Okay, maybe we all need to stomp our feet a few times and scream "It's not fair!" Then what?Are we going to let this economic tremor ruin our entire lives? NO! The way around all of this, is to go through it with grace and a smile. Not a PollyAnna smile, a Mona Lisa smile. The smile of someone who knows a thing or two. We know what is going on but choose to enjoy our day anyway. Choose to enjoy the stunning folliage - go ahead- look out your window. Choose to enjoy a delicious slice of apple pie or just an apple picked in-season. Enjoy your children, your partners, your pets. Enjoy this bit of beautiful sunshine.

Find the blessings in changes. Make cookies with your kids instead of buying them. I have found out recently that many healthier foods are actually cheaper. If you are keeping your thermostat down a few degrees take the opportunity to snuggle with someone you love. Do not let the market or the fear of others shrink who you are. You are an incredible human being with untapped resources. Find the wellspring of new thought, new inspiration and new
life which flows deep within you. Choosing to be optimistic at a time like this is the quickest way to feeling back in control of your own life. Not only that, realistic optimism leads to grounded solutions.

Can't wait to see those Mona Lisa smiles...


* Floods, Banking Crisis, Oil Prices. Oh my.... We certainly aren't in Kansas any more. Fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. The analogy of the yellow brick road in the movie Wizard of Oz is perfectly applicable during times such as these. Like the Lion we could all benefit from shifting our focus from fear to courage; like the Scarecrow we all need to trust that we have the mind to take us through this adventure; and, it our hearts which will lead us to a better feeling solution. If we allow our hearts to freeze up with fear and doubt, anxiety will motivate our choices and we will only be chasing our tails.

Anxiety is often the result of amped up energy. The good news is, this energy is harnessable. You do not need to tread water waiting for waves to crash into you time and time again. Instead grab your boogie board or surf board and ride those waves. The idea is to get on top of the energy and use it to make those leaps of faith you've been desiring. 'How can I do that?' The answer is to simply allow the anxiety to flow through your body. Close your eyes and bring your attention to your spine at the place where you feel the anxiety. Now visualize opening your spine and letting the energy out. Relax, breathe and let it flow.

Utilize this energy to facilitate change in any area of your life, relationships, career...

Commentary and Responses to Nicolas Sarkozy

A French Muslim woman: Sarkozy will you wear this burka?
Nicolas Sarkozy: No.
Woman: Why not?
Sarkozy: Because I don’t agree with it.
Woman: Okay. I hope you find god.

Sarkozy: Women remove that burka?
Woman: No.
Sarkozy: Why not?
Woman: Because I personally see it as my religious commitment and wear it as a display of my modesty and devotion to my god. I want to inhibit material distractions and the gaze of strange men to focus more on the spiritual aspects of my life.
Sarkozy: Well you need to remove it or get the h*ll out of my country.

French President Nicolas Sarkozy gave a speech to the French Parliament last Monday that there is no place for the burqa in France. The burqa is a Muslim head dress that is worn by some Muslim women. It is common mostly worn by the conservative populations of Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia. It is assumed by some in the west that the burqa is forced upon women but this is not so for the vast majority of Muslim women who wear the burqa by choice. However, Sarkozy and his French policy makers are working towards a full scale burqa ban. He is quoted as saying:

"We cannot accept to have in our country women who are prisoners behind netting, cut off from all social life, deprived of identity," Mr Sarkozy told a special session of parliament in Versailles. "That is not the idea that the French republic has of women's dignity.

"The burka is not a sign of religion, it is a sign of subservience. It will not be welcome on the territory of the French republic," the French president said.

What Sarkozy fails to see is, well everything. I am sure that his statement did not take into consideration the Muslim population of France which is the largest in Western Europe, estimated at 5 billion. The burka is a sign of religion as much as the veil the catholic nun wears. He will not allow the Muslim women’s dress but he condones young pubescent catholic school girl uniforms with short plaid skirts and black knee highs. Would he ask our conservative and modest daughters and sisters to unbutton their blouses and let their hair down if it made them uncomfortable? What are our values?

The veil is a choice, a part of identity and culture for a majority of Muslim women. Following the Islamic clothing guidelines reaches into the deeper desire for one’s own cultural heritage. Girls wear the veil because it is what their mothers do, and their grandmothers and great grandmothers just as I like to wear fancy scarves like my mom does. I don’t wear scarves just because I think they look good but because it is something that I identify my mum with, something she collects. I think they look beautiful on her and as most young girls I want to be like my mum. Since I was in high school or maybe younger I started looking through my mum’s scarf drawer and thinking of how I could pull them off. This also goes for girls who like to wear their mum’s heels or lipstick. It is part of our identity and connects us to our culture and family.


Veils are a fashion still prevalent in western culture. Nuns still cover their heads and bodies. Shall we ask the Vatican to unveil their female statues and images which they once cloaked out of protection for the sake of female sexuality?
When we are married in Christian communities do we not veil ourselves? It is an ancient ritual symbolizing a man taking over his wife and her giving up our virginity to our husband. It stood as a symbol for his future wife’s purity.
All traditional images of Mother Mary show her veiled.
In the 1960’s it was common for women to wear hats to church that had a sweeping piece of cloth to cover ones face, who knows maybe it will come back into fashion one day again? Let’s think of some fashions we have that might offend people like excessively tight and revealing clothing, facial tattoos, piercings, dreadlocks, leather, shoulder pads and out of style prints.


This statement by Sarkozy only marginalizes the France Muslim population and Muslim community as a whole. The women who want to wear the head covering will just not leave her home for fear of backlash from the public. They are forcing her to take the veil off in opposition to the stereotype that men are forcing her to put it on. Where are the civil liberties and tolerance? We are trying to ease tensions with the Muslim world not increase them. I am ashamed. I also fear for Morocco as it is a completely Muslim country which was colonized and still is run by the French. What will happen to them and their relationship with France?

The West wants people to give up who they are to be like them because it is easier for them then trying to except people for who they are, as if it would be no problem for them to give up their cultural identity, religious and individual freedoms. When they rebel towards this colonization of western infliction we call them tyrants and uncivilized. What a war of words, what a war of intolerance and misunderstanding. What about choice and religious freedom? Are those not our western values, is that not what we are trying to encourage?


FOLLOW UP ARTICLE: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gioia-diliberto/muslim-chic_b_221382.html

You go mom!

I have to mention this because I am so proud of the work my mom and her friends have been doing. She has joined up with her two friends and has formed a new organization. The new non-profit corporation is called Project Tanzania Partnership Inc. They just recently received their non-profit status and are looking at getting projects off the ground.

Here is their mission statement:

The mission and purpose of Project Tanzania Partnership is guided by a desire to engage others through outreach, investment and partnership to meet critically important needs of the citizens of the United Republic of Tanzania (Tanzania) in Africa.
You will meet our Partners with shared values centering on building capacity at the village level in Tanzania within education, health care and economic development. Impact will be maximized by strong collaboration and confidence with organizations and groups “on the ground” in Tanzania; strategic partners who we will help to raise funds, improve their skills and further develop their program and services.

Take a look at their website and let’s send them our love and support:
www.projecttanzaniapartnership.org

Some Moroccan Proverbs

*Lightening warns not the tree it will strike.

*When it condems us, reason is wrong for it displeases us.

*Water has not yet flowed and already you raise the hem of your garment.

Ramadan in August

Ramadan will occur towards the end of August this year. Ramadan has not fallen in the middle of the summer since the 70’s. You may be wondering how this is possible. Well firstly Islam follows a different calendar which goes with the cycles of the moon. The lunar year is shorter than the solar year which we follow, therefore falling on a different time every year, drifting from season to season. Ramadan goes through all four season in a cycle of 32.5 years. Due to this seasonal sift of the holiday, Ramadan can take place during months of quaking cold or during months of liquefying heat, when the days are long and seem to go on forever. This summer, temperatures will reach up to 120 degrees in some parts of the desert. I try to imagine what it must be like to even restrain oneself from a glass of water but it happens and people do it. In order to understand this I had to take a deeper look into Ramadan.

Fasting is a month long commitment which seeks to cleanse mind, body, soul and community. It began in 662 AD after the Prophet Mohammad migrated from Mecca to Medina. “Ramadan is the month during which the revelations of the Qur’an began. The Prophet Muhammad was meditating in the Cave of Hira, near Mecca, when he “received” the first verse of the Qur’an. “Read in the name of Your Lord who created. He created men from a clinging form. Read, your Lord is the Most Bountiful One who taught by the pen, who taught man what he did not know.” So Ramadan marks the beginning of Islam. The word Qur’an literally means reading or recitation. And during Ramadan the whole Qur’an is read from cover to cover. This happens during extra evening prayers, which are held in congregation. The Imam, who leads the prayer, begins with the first chapter of the Qur’an on the first day of Ramadan, reciting the sacred text loudly. He moves on from chapter to chapter, passage to passage, each night, finishing the complete Qur’an on the last day of Ramadan. Not surprisingly, these prayers tend to be quite long, lasting for to two or three hours. In addition, more pious individuals may read the Qur’an silently at home.”

For followers of the faith, fasting is the sincerest form of worship by both the individual and the collective society. Fasting is regarded as one of the main pillars of Islam along with daily prayers, payment of zakat (obligatory giving to the poor, 2.5% of one’s annual income), and hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca). While fasting is obligatory for most Muslims there are exceptions to those on medication, people with prolonged afflictions, elderly, young children and breast feeding mothers. Also, if a women is menstruating or if you are traveling you are allowed to eat but are required to make up the extra week at the end.
In the Quran, the purpose of fasting is to practice self restraint. During the month of Ramadan, Muslims are asked to restrain from food, drink, sex and all disorderly, abusive and aggressive behavior. Under this category also follows no smoking or kissing. You are to continue on with your daily affairs despite the lack of such luxuries. With the lack of these elements in your daily life one is to become more focused on daily prayer, serving humanity and serving God. Ramadan is not just the month of fasting but also the month of giving. Fasting is to help people feel the pains of hunger and thirst to better understand those less fortunate and appreciate what they have. It moves people to do more for the poor and needy. The financial giving of zakat is also a way to purify ones wealth. “In addition to zakat, most Muslims also give sadqa, or charity. Ramadan is the month when most charity is given and charitable deeds are done. In Britain, Muslim charities such as Islamic Relief and Muslim Aid collect millions of pounds in zakat and sadqa during Ramadan from the Muslim community. Some of this money is distributed to the deprived segments of British Muslim communities, but most goes to development projects in the Third World. Ramadan is also the month when many young Muslims sign up to do voluntary work overseas.”

Ramadan also acts as a social lubricator. Following sunset, families and friends gather together and break the fast (think breakfast, breaking the fast). The month of fasting ends at the sight of the first new moon. Islam places a lot of emphasis on the relationship between humans and the cosmos. The idea is to feel the ripple of time and be as close with nature as possible. The end of the fast is called Eid ul-Fitr. It is a celebration of gifts, cookies and new clothes. You cater to your family and neighbors. Ramadan and fasting is about more than just restraint from bodily desire but it is about becoming closer to God and focusing on serving him and your community with concrete deeds. It is about being the best you can be and being thankful for all that you have and realizing what it feels like for many who do not have what you do.

So while this Ramadan will be particularly challenging due to climatic circumstances it will give people a chance to really show their dedication to God and humanity. I will be supporting all going through this great challenge during the coming August. I respect dearly the commitment they will be making and will pray for good health. I think that we can all learn something from such dedication and good will. Please if you know friends that will be going through this back home be a branch of support for them and it is a great opportunity to open up dialogue and learn about this important Islamic month, a truly selfless and honest month.

Communal Elections

Voting
I witnessed my first elections here in Morocco. Every 6 years communal elections take place and this year in particular was revolutionary for Morocco. While visiting a fellow Peace Corps volunteer in her site and hanging out with our Moroccan friends we were able to participate in the preparation and aftermath of the elections. This year there was a strong push to fight against the corruption and get it out of the system. It was not easy my Moroccan friends informed to me. The days leading up to the election and the day of elections a lot of money, rocks and dirty words are thrown around as people try to convince one another to vote for their representative.

Corruption has become a norm in Moroccan life and politics. Particularly during the time of elections vast amounts of the illicit giving of money, promises, power and merchandise are used to persuade voters and vote counters. Sadly, violence also occurs on some levels.

“For instance, on Sunday, June 31, in the region of El-Attaouia, municipality of Kelaat Sraghna (south of Morocco), an electoral candidate accompanied by an authority assistant (Mqadem) were distributing money to people of the province when, suddenly, the local authorities of the Royal Gendarmerie arrested them with a sum of money estimated at 300 million centimes (approximately € 265686.29) . The detainee who is named Ennakaz L'Arbi, one of the elders and a former member of the municipal council of El-Attaouia, is a candidate belonging to The Istiqlal party whose leader is Abbas El Fassi, the Moroccan prime minister.

In the town of Mediouna, near Casablanca, violent clashes have also broken out between supporters of The Istiqlal party and those of Authenticity and Modernity, which lead to burning a barn and a house in the ownership of a candidate belonging to Authenticity and Modernity party. What is more, some people have tried to burn a fuel station in the same town
To conclude, it should be noted that the number of arrests related to elections has reached 320 accused. The majority of them are accused of using money in order to win over voters, exploiting the property of the State, and causing violence.”

Although this is slightly disturbing but surprisingly accurate a change is occurring as we speak. In this small town that I witnessed the elections in I am proud to report that the party fighting against corruption won in a few parts of town. Young people and old were chanting we need the change in opposition to some scary corrupt and powerful figures. It was reminiscent of my calls for the need for change with Obama. Corruption is not an easy thing to fight but with the support of the community, joining together and recognizing the inequalities currently in the system much can be done. This is a victory for parts of the town. While this one particular man won in a certain part of town, 8 others were also elected for different sections of town. I was told that 4 out of the 9 are not corrupt, a change they say, and a change it is even if it looks insignificantly low.

Another victory in the Moroccan communal elections is that of the progress and inclusion of women in the political system. Thousands of women ran for local council this year, an unprecedented number which is trying to fill the new female quota. The government wants to boost the current 127 women in council positions to over 3,300. This will give Moroccan the largest amount of female elected officials in any Arab country. The political spectrum has normally been an all mans club and for some women, this is their first attempt to enter the patriarchal arena.

The increased encouragement for women to enter politics is made possible by the new 2004 amendments to Morocco’s Family Law by King Mohammad VI, which granted men and women equal rights in important arenas. Not only is this good for Morocco but also boosted the King’s popularity with the International community, standing as a role model on equal gender rights for Arab countries.

The spaces reserved for women across the country were overflowing with candidates as women were embracing the opportunity to make a change in their communities, in their country. The elections in the town I viewed elected two females for seats. Victorious. The only fear that I have of women being thrown into these positions is that many are not qualified or educated which could potentially be a threat to the success of other women in future elections. It is an amazing feat that they are in these positions but it is more than just filling status quo. This is a true opportunity for change and I wish all candidates, male and female the best of luck in the battle against corruption and for changes that help empower and raise their people and country.

Interweaving

Carpets, carpets, carpets. Morocco is sure not in a shortage of floor coverings. Carpets galore, colors, patterns, wool and more. There are so many carpets to choose from in this country that it is hard not to associate Morocco with their carpets. I would even go so far as to say the country has enough rugs to swathe the Great Wall of China. The market is so heavily saturated that there seems to be no room to infiltrate the booming trade unless your product goes above the norm.
In Zaouiat we also make carpets but carpets of a particular variety. Women typically recycle old sweaters and unwind them into balls of yarn and weave them into home décor. Due to this, the rugs appear aged and the colors generally would not appeal to the general public, unless of course you are a backpacking, antique collecting daughter of a hippy. Carpets are also difficult for tourists to take with them and tend to be on the more expensive side of gifts to bring home. To be prepared to enter the market with our product many improvements and financial investments would have to take part. This did not appear to me to be a good option with the competitive market in which we are a part of. What about new ideas, new projects, something that is not easily found, something we already have the knowledge and materials to create?
I held a meeting with the interested women of Zaouiat to do a rough market assessment. In Zaouiat we do not have a shortage of sheep or knowledge of natural dyes and wool spinning. We also live in a cold climate and the town nearby attracts many winter tourists who frequent the ski slopes in the vicinity. Surprisingly however, winter wear is not easily available and what is available are products from Spain or France. Almost all women know how to knit or crochet. Putting these factors together we have now decided to delve into the creation of a new line of winter wear via knitting and crochet utilizing local wool when possible. Women seem excited and we have begun knitting and crochet classes. I gave one of my knitted caps to my neighbor and within a few days she had replicated it to a T. I feel that this will be a promising activity and even if we do not make a large profit women will be able to suit up their children in homemade warmth which in the end would save money for the family. It is encouraging to see women creating already just after one workshop. Many who missed our previous meetings have even approached me in interest. As long as the ball keeps rolling and interests hold this could be a very promising activity. This summer will hopefully be spent in the stage of creativity and production which should be ready for a new line in late fall or early winter.
It has even inspired me to delve into the world of crafts farther than I previously would be comfortable to admit. Researching knitting and crochet patterns has brought to my attention just how large the underground scene of young knitters is these days. Many people it seems are still getting their knit on with group gatherings of stitching and bitching as they say. Using local products will also hopefully boost the value of our product to the market which I hope is becoming more conscious of product origin. So as you read this we are getting our knit on.

Homes

In February I moved into my first place and the freedom was immense. As much as I love my host family and still greatly do it was nice to be able to get back on a schedule that slightly resembled my previous life. I was able to eat what and when I wanted, sleep during hours that suited my internal clock, decorate a space that I could call me own and play my music to the loudest my laptop can allow.
The house was modest to say the least. I had a bedroom, small living room, kitchen and a bathroom. During the cold months in which I lived in said house I slept in the small living room next to the fireplace. I more or less took up residence in one room of the house only escaping to the kitchen for a glass of hot coco. The walls were painted a pale yellow, floors were cold cement. There was one window in the kitchen with a view of the Cedar Mountains. I became attached to having my own place but difficulties ensued due to the harshness of this past winter. I had severe water leakage from the snow and rain storms that saturated my house. Even with weeks of clear blue skies my house would not dry and everything began to mold and decompose. My new box of white envelopes was all sealed shut, my clothes became cold and moist and the pages of my books were cornering.
The entrance to my home was also not secure to my liking. The front of the house was made up of nailed scraps of wood with a door locked by a child’s pad lock. With a space open at the bottom of the door I witnessed mischievous cats escape through the front door when I would return home. One day, children, being unsupervised children, tore down a few of the front panels which I must admit was all too easy to accomplish. After this incident I decided there must be a better home for me.
My site mate was leaving soon as her term was about to expire so I took up residence with her and now am living in her house which is a step up. Her apartment is all well tiled, much grander in scale and has a double lock metal door and many windows to enjoy the morning sun. I feel secure and have more room than I know what to do with. It consists of a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, entrance parlor and much larger living room where I even found a place to set up a desk to write this blog.
The house is also located near the river and I can enjoy the sounds of rushing water when I fall asleep and the sounds of donkeys braying when I wake. My new home is also large enough to host visitors so for those interested in a visit you are more than welcome and you will be accommodated as if you were a king in my village. I am glad I can share pictures with you but I would be thrilled to have you in my company in my first official house to myself. As the Moroccans would say MrHaba (your welcome).

One man says it well

Education beyond the books
A recent visit to Morocco brings to light a common humanity
Chase GunnellThe Daily Evergreen 02/25/2009

MARRAKESH, Morocco – No carefully crafted word or scenic photograph could do it justice. An oasis for the senses, Morocco captures your mind and tugs at your soul.
Islamic prayer calls echo from mosques five times daily, mixing with the beat of African drums. The taste of kebabs, mint tea, honey and other more alien cuisines. The fragrant smell of incense and hashish, mixed with the scent of sweat, donkeys and motorbike exhaust. The sight of orange groves and golden minarets. The feel of the scorching desert sun overhead and dusty streets underfoot.
It is a place of blinding contrast. There is abject poverty in the market alleys and Ferraris parked outside the Royal Gardens. Women are covered head-to-toe in traditional Muslim dress, walking with men wearing Gucci jeans. Whole chickens are roasted over open flames and are eaten by hand, only blocks from KFC.
As a white American in Arabic Africa, to me, Morocco felt otherworldly. A place far beyond the familiar, marching to a very different beat. But it’s a beat that is entirely captivating.
My Moroccan education began in the chaotic and crowed alleys of Djemaa el Fna, Africa’s largest marketplace. A giant square at the base of the Koutoubia Mosque, the Djemaa is an anthill of activity.
Wandering among the forceful hustling of orange juice sellers, kebab venders, snake charmers, fortune tellers and black market dealers with everything from fake designer brands to leopard skins, it’s a trial by fire. But one that leaves you wiser if you make it to the other side.
Adhan, the Islamic prayer call, rings out over the city every few hours. It’s beautiful when it’s not waking you up at 5 a.m.
Observing a man dismount his bicycle in the middle of the sidewalk, remove his shoes, kneel facing Mecca and begin rigorously giving praise to Allah, I felt fortunate to experience a window into a religion grossly misunderstood by Western society.
Saturday, a bus trip to the Ouzoud waterfalls in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains brought a glimpse of Moroccan life beyond the city walls. Under snow-capped peaks, we passed sheep herders, olive groves, and Berber villages to a place of both astounding natural beauty and wrenching poverty.
The falls themselves are one of the tallest in Africa, sending cascades of water – red with African dirt – into a gorge more than 100 meters deep. But nearby is a collection of vendors and beggars living off a trickle of tourist trade.
On our final day in Marrakesh, Tony – my traveling companion from WSU – and I choose to forgo the 80 Dirham (about $10) cab ride and walk to the airport far on the outskirts of town. Leaving Africa humbly on foot seemed fitting.
Trekking through the desert, down dusty streets and past herds of camels, I contemplated my experiences in Morocco – seeing the Arab and African world up close, living meagerly, haggling for every meal, and immersing ourselves in a place so vastly different from the one we call home. It was an unparalleled cultural education.
The U.S. is at war in two Muslim countries. Our soldiers are dying in distant lands, fighting people who seem foreign and out of touch with our Western reality. We see terrorist attacks on the nightly news and cringe at an entire culture.
Truly capturing Morocco is beyond my skill as a writer. But if there’s one thing I could impart from my journey, it’s that underneath the veil of culture, religion, and dress, the people here are as human as you or me.
Travel brings one indisputable truth: Arab, African, European, American, we are all citizens of humanity. We can recognize our differences – they make life exciting – but we must learn to celebrate this universal union before petty contrasts rip us further apart.

Pup

Dogs in morocco do not wear swanky sweaters, jeweled collars, rain boots or ribbons. Mention doggie boutique and be faced with puzzlement and possibly disgust. The life of a Moroccan dog in the country is rough and unpolished. You survive if you are fit to survive. A dog is on his own in a dog biscuit less world. Some dogs do have owners but most roam around searching for a place to rest or something to eat. However, many are sick, dirty, homeless and emaciated. Without the practice of neutering or spading puppies are born like chicken eggs.
Due to the inherited instinct of territorialism and cruel treatment by children, dogs that are owned by people can be vicious and extremely dangerous. I have frequently come across such hostility on my daily runs or bike rides and had to bend down to pick up a stone for fear of my own safety. Having been bitten before I have adapted precautionary measures. Although wildly frightened of the unleashed roaming dogs I sympathize with them. I know that they are how they are because of the conditions in which they live.
Having a weakness for canine companionship I put out a word to a few friends that if they happen to come across a puppy in distress I just might be interested. This of course was much easier than I really thought at the time and within a week a friend called me about a puppy she saved in the streets. I was to meet her in a few days to get the puppy but due to common illnesses faced by young pups she passed away within a day. A few days later another friend of mine knew of a family that just had a litter of three puppies. I went to go see them and fell for one. I had to wait a few weeks to pick him up as he was too young. A week later the puppies were all eaten by another dog, he also managed to eat a chicken. The same friend found another puppy which he took in for a night and brought it to me the next day. She was beautiful with bright green eyes. I spent the whole day playing with her and thinking of a name. Finally a puppy.
After sincere contemplation I came to name her Veda after the Bhagavad-Gita. Some of the earliest Sanskrit Hindu scriptures. It directly translates to wisdom or knowledge.
The first night however she started getting sick and wouldn’t hold down food. After not eating all the next morning or afternoon I tried to at least get her to drink water. Via syringe I gave her water and chicken broth. Every effort was met with regurgitation. For two days I tried to feed her with the syringe, enticed her with tasty chicken but no improvement. She would try to run away and find a quiet spot to hide and lay. After three days of having her she passed away in the night. I have never personally handled a dead animal but it was heartbreaking.
Life is hard here as it is and taking an animal in without the proper facilities such as a veterinarian nearby it would only be more distressing to have an animal. I have wished I could have done more for Veda but she went down her path regardless. I have called off the forces on searching for a pup. Maybe in a different environment I could try again.

I saw a bloated sheep in the river today. A large balding man on a picnic with his wife tried to push it downstream with his stick, so they could continue on. She stood watching over as the sheep was entangled between the uprooted tree.
She decided at one point to continue on with the picnic knowing that this incident should be normal, she played her part slightly disgusted.

cafe culture

I have to be careful and selective. Avoid the café’s frequented by prostitutes. Sometimes when I sit alone and a man walks in and sees me I feel these are his first thoughts. Here I am, French, a lone female traveler or just maybe the quick fix he’s willing to pay for.
Mostly men walk in and sit down with their miniature coffees, smoking their cheap cigarettes, lighters strategically placed on the table. The choice seats are by the window or curbside to carelessly gaze at the passerby’s, strangers and the estranged. Young boys, men, congregate by the door. If I enter with the opposite sex, a friend, it could possibly open the door for people to converse about me or feel more comfortable to approach me if I should return unaccompanied.
The known cigarette vendor walks around ready to respond and sedate the first nicotine itch. If you’re too broke to pay the durham and a half (.18), the toxic air will be sure to sedate you. Here smoking is more than ever a mask of idleness.

Lone men, wandering, easily aroused, standing, smoking, and stalking. Idle, dull escapism.

Types of cafes in Morocco
1. Women are not allowed and you wouldn’t want to try even if you desired to make a bold gender statement. These tend to be filled with the older crowd of gentlemen all faced towards the television screen or streets. Here you will find cigarette smoke and glares.
2. If you are women you are a prostitute so don’t be expected to be treated otherwise. Generally in larger towns or cities. I find these places have the best pastries. Young men, old men, all men are here. If you go bring a friend. You don’t need to make new friends at this café.
3. Moroccan women generallywill go accompanied by a male. I can go as I am a foreigner and not feel as if I am constantly being looked at. Establishments like these are found in larger towns and cities and cater mostly towards tourists. I am not French.

open the window i'm mad as hell

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dib2-HBsF08

Rabat

It wasn’t my first time in Rabat but the first time I wasn’t confined to my hotel under Peace Corps training rules. I remember when I was there prior under those conditions and I was scared of the city. It all seemed frightening. This time I am happy to say my mind has changed about the city.
I went to Rabat to attend a three day GAD workshop. GAD stands for Gender and Development. It is a committee I am on in Peace Corps. I was selected by my stage as a representative and am thrilled about the position. Here is an overview straight out of the donkey’s mouth:
Overview
The Gender and Development (GAD) Committee is a group of eight Volunteers, representing each stage, elected by their fellow PCVs. The purpose of the committee is to ensure that gender issues and activities are incorporated into community projects. Gender includes women, men, girls and boys. GAD is an integral part of all Peace Corps programming, staff and volunteer pre-service and in-service training. As such, committee members facilitate general communication among Peace Corps staff and volunteers, community partners, and other Peace Corps countries as well as provide resources on relevant gender and development trends in Morocco.

The committee has three annual meetings, is a resource for volunteer efforts, and collaborates with Moroccan NGOs on gender issues and advocacy. Activities the GAD committee typically assists with include GGLOW (Girls and Guys Leading our World) activities and camps, regional gender and development workshops, tea talks, harassment (programming & training), International Women’s Day, Take Your Daughter or Son to Work Day, International Day to Eliminate Violence Against Women or 16 Days Campaign of Activism against Gender-based Violence, Women to Women (cross-cultural exchange curriculum), and more.
This was my first meeting and it was exciting to get away from my site for a little while and enjoy the big city life. While Rabat is nothing like New York big city life with its raves, bars and who know what’s, Rabat has nice high class restaurants, bars which is surprising since alcohol is not tolerated in Islam and some museums. While most of the big city life things are out of the range of my Peace Corps budget, I found some ways to enjoy the city. I spent a few nights hanging out with some Full Bright scholars that I was introduced to and experienced their life in Morocco. We went to the international film festival the first two nights. First film was an Irish film, although it was English it was Irish English and I really could have benefited from some English subtitles. It was about a lonely, simple garage man who worked at a gas station. It was kind of dark. The second night was a film in Portuguese with French subtitles about an old man looking for historical information about Christopher Columbus. Maybe it was because I could not understand most of what was said but it just might have been the worst film I have ever seen. This however was not a problem because I felt jazzy being back in the city.
I decided that I would take a personal day after my GAD meeting to enjoy the sun. It is remarkably warmer in Rabat than my site and I had to take up the opportunity to get away from the rain and snow. I spent the day being a tourist which is actually very enjoyable. I started it off going to an art exhibit showing some modern Islamic art as well as a great exhibit done by children aged 9-14. The children’s exhibit gave me some great ideas about some art activities I can do with my children here.
After the dose of encased culture I went to go see one of the cathedrals in Rabat. It was beautiful and new. The stained glass brought me back to Rome. The Stations of the Cross, depicted in a comic book like fashion was made out of pieces of tile. Following this, I went to the sea.
There I saw waves breaking as I sat up high at a little café nooked into a cranny, tucked into a garden. I spent a good part of the day there drinking mint tea without sugar and speaking some Italian with my waiter. I truly felt refreshed and ready to carry on.
During my time there I also saw a lot of construction, very well dressed people, expensive stores, bars and I really felt as if I was in a different country. There is a shocking contrast between the city and the village. I ran into a conversation at a restaurant/bar one night where this guy from the city was questioning a Peace Corps volunteer about why we were in Morocco. He felt that Morocco didn’t need us, that they were developed. Many people who grow up in the city just don’t know about how a majority of the people in the villages live. I guess there would be no reason for them to travel out that way. After a long conversation he felt sorry that people from outside of his country had to come in and help when some of the people within his country are able. I feel the conversation ended with providing all participants with some insight. We can all do something to help; we just have to find ways to do it. Opportunities are all around us if we look for it.
I thank Rabat, the guy at the restaurant/bar and GAD for a fulfilling, productive, enjoyable, contemplative and relaxing few days.

Dogs as wolves as dogs

So I know it has been a while and oh boy do I have stories for you.

This one goes way back into last year.

It was my first week officially at my site. A local friend at my site had begun a project of fixing up his cave. One of the many old caves in Zaouiat. It is where many families lived prior to having their now concrete buildings. Most homes are still built around them and are used as storage shelters, kitchens or barns of sorts. This young man in particular wanted to set it up as a tourist destination with the intention of hosting people there over night with local music, food and get this, playing old black and white Charlie Chaplin films on this old film projector he found.
So one day before some inspectors were coming to look at the cave I offered to come and give it a look over and help clean and set up. He called me in the morning and I walked over. As I descended some stairs outside into his house I was greeted by his dog.
The dog, doing what any good watch dog would do came charging at me. I had nothing with me, not a bag, a rock, nothing. The dog ran towards me while I stood half way down the stairs and immediately latched onto my leg. I was taken by surprise. I thought maybe he just wants to sniff, figure out who I am. But he went straight for the attack. I had on my heavy duty Levis which lived up to their legend of durability. I didn’t know how to protect myself as it all happened so fast. I just kept my hands away so that those would not be bitten. He clenched onto the inner of my left knee and I froze. Then he went for the back of my right leg. My friend’s aunt came to the rescue and shook him off me and dragged him inside.
I didn’t feel pain immediately and just shook it off like it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to start any problems and went on inspecting the cave as if nothing had happened. They all felt terrible about the incident. I didn’t look at the wound until a few hours later to realize that the bite had penetrated my skin and blood was drawn. Following protocol I went and got medical attention from Peace Corps and received all three of my rabies vaccinations. Luckily my friend had papers on the dog’s vaccination and I felt a little bit better. Who wants rabies?! Rabies is a scary, scary thing which doesn’t show signs for a few days.

The best part was the interaction with my host mother when I showed her my bites. She immediately had me sit on the coach and ran into the kitchen. I had no idea what she was grabbing. Antibiotic maybe, no, not antibiotic. Nothing prepared me for the shoe. She came out with an old white stileto shoe which she placed on the raging fire place and then attempted to burn my wound shut. I couldnt help but break into hysterical laughter, mostly out of nervousness. I most certainly did not want a burn ontop of a dog bite. I calmed her down and told her it was not necessary and that I had medicine. I went into my bedroom and reapplied it in front of her to assure her that I was okay. She felt terrible and dragged my friends aunt over to my house to reinspect my wound. We all sat down and drank tea together and constantly assured them that I was going to be okay and no I did not want to go to the hospital. Haha, what a day that was.
Now all that I have left is some pretty cool scars and a great story. I survived a dog attack. It has just reinforced my fear of dogs here and I don’t hesitate to pick up a large rock when I go for walks. Dogs here are breed for different purposes. Not for being cuddly affectionate animals but being sheep dogs, watch dogs and alarm systems.
I am alright but damn, dogs really are ancestors of wolves.