As my second summer in Magrib continues the festivities of the season begin. This year I was comforted by the presence of my family that came all the way from Vermont to visit me. It started in Rabat after my entire stage met up for our yearly medical check up. It was good to see them all as we now are second year volunteers. Many of us have changed. We’ve grown. They say that you volunteers change and that we do not end up the way we started. I felt this way when at the airport upon seeing my family for the first time in 15 months. They noticed it to. Being well adjusted has its benefits. After a long trip I arrived to my village with my family. They were very well received in the tamazirt. After visiting with my host family I decided to have a tea party. This was a lot of fun. Local women came over and we had a celebration. The singing could be heard as my house has an echo. I was very content that my family could share some of my experience here. It’s comforting that now when I have a skype call and mention community members that there is a face with a name. After my family left I felt renewed and ready to begin my final year.

As its summer I began to reflect on last year this time when I was new and not yet adjusted. All the weddings and naming ceremonies were difficult for me because I didn’t yet understand the language and culture of the tamazirt.

The second time around has been a completely different experience as my familiarity with language and culture is deeper. Also I have very special relationships with many families. It’s beautiful when everything comes together and you can not only experience something but actually be apart of it. When you go to a place and know all of the people there and they know and understand you. The cultural exchange can be facilitated when this happens. The one thing that hasn’t been great the second time around is the heat. Summer heat here is usually +100 degree weather everyday. The only way to stay sane is the wet your sheets, sleep on the roof at night, drink lots of water, and sleep during the hottest part of the day.

Upon attending the latest wedding I was very excited to wear local clothing. My site mate joined me and we made our way to a local douar. The bride is a friend of mine and giving her congratulations was an honor for me. After her wedding she will be moving to her grooms’ families’ house.

This is my community now and my second summer is filled with bitter sweetness just like my friends wedding. The singing and dancing lasted all night long. The women formed an unclosed circle like a horseshoe and local men sat in the center drumming as the women sang songs. The songs are of sadness as the bride will enter into a new stage of life as well as community. However they are also songs of happiness. The women slowly dance in a circle around the drumming men. They can be heard all around.

I hope to see the bride again before returning and the realization that I won’t is a reality and a sad one for me. I guess this is what happens when you become apart of a place. Its goes below the surface and into your heart. As they say everything is better the second time around and that’s very true for me.

I desperately need to review the past few weeks in order to gain insight into my experience. This past week I looked at my calendar on my kitchen door and blinked repeatedly. My ever expressive eyebrows crinkled together when I came to the realization that it was not only May, but that more than half the month was over. In that moment the most reoccurring thought was, can it be? The quick answer is yes it can be and is May. 

 After reflecting on the surprise feeling that arose from within, I decided to have “awozwi” or afternoon snack between lunch and dinner. This didn’t make me feel better so I grabbed by plastic “cursi” (chair) and headed out to the local douar where the women sit out until dark. Not many were there as the majority has been working very hard trying to harvest all the barley. A very big bundle of barley was on the makeshift soccer field that the local children play on everyday. A tarp material like blanket covered the ground barley that was separated from the stems. The women were very happy to have this done because there was mist a few days ago and many feared the hay would be ruined. The truth is that after the fantastic wet season this would have been truly a shame. Many families in this douar couldn’t afford to rent the machine that is used to do this work for the hours this can take. However as I learned here the community really unites to help everyone. Since all the families can’t afford the cost they pooled the money everyone could contribute and decided to rent the machine for a few days and do the labor themselves. For two nights I heard the roar of the engine of the machine grinding the fruits of Mother Nature’s care. When I sat out with the women at the end of the week I was happy to see that many were catching up on their rest. Unlike the process familiar to me, the women awoke at the crack of dawn to go to the fields and collect the barley then pile it. Many women harvested till the very last speckle of light erased from the sky. Imagine the work in all of this!

I look up to the women of the village that I call home for two years. They are the foundations that keep the houses from falling. I hope to learn much more from them.

 

As I was looking forward to harvesting I was sad when, for circumstances that occurred, I wasn’t able to participate much. Out of this something positive happened. I recently visited Essaouira, one of Magribs ports, and purchased a drum from carved from Thuya wood, which the area is known for. This really made me very happy to have an instrument from Magrib that I could possible use in the work that I do as a volunteer. My very first time playing in public was for a very special event.

Last fall the first year health volunteers in my province and I decided that we wanted to plan an even around the International Aids candle light memorial. As with most events for large groups working with others is key to success. The event was also a way to help newly arrived volunteers adjust to the area, meet other volunteers, see volunteers in action, and hopefully encourage future plans. The first day entailed the local doctor giving a presentation on Aids specifically in the area. The second was focused on education with activities. Over 120 + showed up and everyone was involved in the event. This was uplifting for us volunteers and really was a great way to facilitate dialogue with adolescents on a topic not often discussed.

 

These recent activities bring me back to where this entry starts, with a feeling. In a few days I will be a second year Peace Corps volunteer. This past year I’ve had many ups and downs, and many first times that have offered me the richest experiences had in my short lifetime. I’ve learned more about my self through learning about life in a rural southern Moroccan Berber village. The feeling I have been experiencing is an emotion I’m not familiar with so i can’t give it a name. I am very adjusted and feel very comfortable in my life here, yet at the same time I’ve been hit with a double edged sword. The reality of the progression of time has hit me like a ton of bricks. The realization that my time here is counted in months came to me as the newest volunteers official beginning came to be. Emti Zaina or Auntie Zaina as she is referred to by everyone said to me that I will return to my own tamazirt soon.  I’m no longer in the “first year phase” and as with any transition this can be hard to accept. The Peace Corps experience is all about stages but when your are so accustomed to one and are put into another the impact can have you in a vulnerable position. This reminded me of a local girl Mariam who walked me through the maze of the douar. When I neared the path that lead to the main road towards my house, she grabbed my left hand with her right and pulled me down to her ear as if she was going to tell me a secret. She says to me is the sweetest small voice,”Rihab, hemlagh km, rbi, miyargh km.” I looked down on her 11 year old face and saw a smile with sad eyes. Her words of, “I love you” and “I’m used to you,” really struck something in me. She hugged me tight and I said in a solemn voice, “ula nki Mariam, ula nki.” (Me too)

According to Peace Corps I’m having a mid service crisis yet I like to call it mid- service crazies. My head is full of everything all at once of images and thoughts of past, present and future colliding on a slew of topics. 

So yes, it is May and yes time is running in a one way direction stingingly, but I have decided to take this one day at a time. In this moment I feel overwhelmed by all the feelings but I am comforted to know that the majority of people of my host village feel very similarly to Mariam, and I know that I will get through this phase along side the people who touched my heart and taught me how to enjoy the simplicity of life.

Just as my village is turning into the lush green season known as spring, I too have been developing and blossoming as I reach middle of my service. As the barley inches higher and higher toward the sky I feel more and more adjusted I my village.

Spring is a time of growth and not just for the land. I had the pleasure of visiting the Neddie this past week. The neddie is a center for women. The women produce crafts and textiles to sell. This center is also a place where the women’s literacy classes are held. This place also serves a source of pride for the women. It’s a place they call solely their own outside of their homes. I sat in on a literacy class of eight women learning Arabic. I was seated next to Fatima, a woman in her late seventies who appeared to me to be very determined. It may have taken her ten minutes to finish one page squinting her eyes to see the script well, but she was eager to continue reading even after the teacher told her she had read enough for the day. Witnessing this can surely motivate anyone. At the end of the class the women packed their books and headed home to retrieve their baskets and harvesting knives to head to the fields.

The weather has already turned into summer as temperatures are reaching the upper eighties. The days are longer. As time is inching closer to summer so has my work which slows down a bit during these months where the heat can be unbearable at times. The good news is that my family is visiting me next month and I will be able to introduce them to life in Magreb. So happy Harvesting to everyone!

 

Happy New Year to everyone. With the beginning of a new year I began to feel a rejuvenated and renewed commitment. Its like having a new energy or a pep in my step. I celebrated three different new years. The first was the beginning of the Islamic Calender or Moharam. The second was the beginning of the Gregorian calendar or the new year celebrated back home. The last was the Berber new year or Asugas Amazigh. They all are different dates but the feeling three times over was good for me. Its not that I’m down, its that every Peace Corps Volunteer knows that life, in our contexts, has its highs and lows. Its hard to feel over- excited or jovial when our loved ones back west are together and celebrating. We celebrate the holidays of our host country and send happy holidays greetings. We spend time with our surrogate families who welcome us with open arms. For me it has been exciting to celebrate holidays in Magrib and experience them with Moroccans.

  

                                             The Berber New Year of was interesting. A man from my village told me of the tradition in my village. He said that people eat afullus asuga. A rough translation is country chicken. In Magrib we have two types, umlil or abildee or asuga. Umlil means white and asuga black. The difference is more with how the chickens are raised I believe. In my village they are prepared for a New Years Eve meal with bread. Not just any bread though. The bread is baked with tini or date in it. The  person who gets the piece of bread with the tini is said to receive luck for the new year. I was informed that only older people get the tini and not to get my hopes up.

Unfortunately I didn’t get the tini but the year is proving to be hopeful. The relationships that I have developed with people in my village are growing and getting stronger. I feel apart of my community. I go to the igran or fields often to reflect or go on walks. In the fields I often see the women using the asumouz or harvesting hook to krz or harvest the grass for the animals.

One day I saw Fatima  in the igran. I cant express how much this woman means to me. She is always friendly to me and treats me like her own daughter since I arrived and could only say hello. She stands about four eleven less than one hundred lbs. her hands are rough from harvesting, her face widens into a smile when I approach. I kiss her hand, she kisses mine. Then her shoulder then forehead. She has been in the fields all day and I see her exhaustion reflect on her aged face. Fatimatells me her back hurts. The tagalagouz or basket that she carries on her head appears to be bigger than  Fatima. I offer to carry it. Fatimasays no. I insist. The two of us get the tagalagouz on my head and we head to her house. I was nervous on our walk because we were headed near the argan tree where the women sit every afternoon and I was nervous they would see me. As Fatima and I made our way around the path I saw two of the women’s eyes widen then all erupted in laughter. When we returned to sit I said that Fatimawasn’t feeling well and I wanted to help her. The women said God bless your parents Rihab, and that I was miyar and called me tabudraut. As they said these comments I was less embarrassed and felt happy inside. I also made plans to partake in the harvest in may.

The igran makes me happy just as walking in my village does. This week I walked with Mariam and we picked wild azukuni, oregano. It is soooo good smelling and fresh. My village is well known for its azukuni. Many people have it in tea, with milk,  or make a  dish with azukuni, flour butter salt to dip bread in. As Mariam and I made our way back to the center of town waving at local children walking home the new year made me feel hopeful three times over. 

 

  

Since last fall I have been teaching health in the local schools. Every month has a different topic. This months theme is nutrition. Mariam and I acted a scene and then talked about healthy eating habits to the children. After the lesson we had some students act. This really helps to reinforce the lesson. Some students like the classes so much they show up when its not there classes turn. The video is of students performing the skit.   

 

As December looms ahead it was important to take some time to reflect on my Peace Corps experience in Morocco thus far. Reflection is very important and there have been many ups and downs since I boarded a plane an ocean away with 58 other future PCV’s. I can say that being here has already transformed my persona and I feel that Morocco is embedded in me. I will never be the same again. This is to say when I my service ends in 2010, Morocco will not. To feel this so early makes me afraid abit because I wonder if I will be able to face that day in the future when I have to kiss my host Jdda(grandma) good bye and say these words in her ear, “I will never forget you. I love you, Thank You, God Bless You, Goodbye.” I know now that my ending will be like a Moroccan greeting, long and through.  

Looking back, all the hardships weren’t really all that bad. All the cultural adjustments were more like stepping stones to get me to the other side. This other side is the point were me and my host country nationals reached the middle ground of understanding. Being here, we cannot turn back. Only more mutual understanding can happen.  

Looking ahead at the next 17 months I hope to continue to learn more about the culture and people with whom I share a sense of community with. This may include Peace Corps projects and education, but it will definitely include ahawsh’s (celebrations), tea, smiles, laughter, tears, a most importantly a sense of belonging.

As a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, I have had the pleasure of integrating for the last 8 months. As with any integration certain questions are necessary, yet mostly I encounter many opinions. After introducing myself as a US Peace Corps Volunteer and exchanging a local greeting, placing the hand over the heart, my host country nationals usually started right in. Raisnm Bush, Inuful! Ur dars Soq!  Your president is crazy and careless, they would say. How does one respond to this?  At first I found it interesting the opinions of people here of the current President, which range from disgust about the war to the select few who like Mr. Bush because of his stance on Sahara, an issue sensitive for many Moroccans. In most cases, lines are drawn. I’m separated from the politics of my country. That was until the election heated up. Clinton or Obama, then Obama or McCain? Clinton is Berber, vote for the first Berber to be in the white house, a local informed me. McCain Irmi rad imut.(McCain is tired and will die) After all the primary seasons I was elated to find that two candidates remained. Not surprisingly, many villagers remained more informed than I was throughout the entire election. My short wave radio only reaches Al Jazeera and BBC, both in Arabic and not my local Berber dialect of Tashelheet. Immediately following June, Obama was the name I heard most often. In fact, it was the only name for some. A local man on his motor decided to call me Obama. Salam Wa-alaykum Obama, he would say. Everything followed with Obama and in a place where greetings last this was getting old. Villagers were also interested in how I vote, so I began walking with the absentee ballot just to show people what it was. Unfortunately, I was at an in service training with my stage mates and new country director while the election took place. We borrowed a television and stayed up all night waiting for the results. We interchanged between Al Jazeera international, CNN international and BBC International waiting for results. As soon as the election was called, cheers echoed through the halls and tears, hugs, and sheer jubilation followed up until the moments of the president elect speech. And this was from Moroccans and American alike. This was when the change happened in Morocco. The days traveling back to my village have been awkward because people have been cheering everywhere I go. Taxis, Bus stands, and trains, people stop and cheer Obama. What a change a day makes? I would say instantaneous. I no longer had to speak in my village of my president because two fists in the air and smiles from ear to ear greeted me when I returned this week. The most recent comment stayed by step, “Rihab, did you know that Obama is Beber?”

The past month was a busy one. After the Holy Month of Ramadan everything picked up. School went at its regular pace. La3id, the holiday after Ramadan was a three day celebration. All people dressed in their best clothes. Women had a hawaj-a circle of singing and dancing which started early and lasted until dusk. This time the fall came upon us in southern Morocco. The fall has not been what I envisioned. Rain has come and turned my town green. Some say this is the most rain ever while other say this is the most we have received in 2 years. The river that runs through my village was so full it flowed straight through the main road, which is the only paved road. The grass that is being grown is going to the local cows. People are preparing the fields for growing. Its interesting as things are reversed in my view. Fall has awoken the people of the town and once again I continue to learn about this village.

My work has also picked up as well. After receiving permission from the Delegate of Education, I began teaching Health Education Classes in my local schools. At first this was daunting for me but the children loved my lasted visual aide. It was a piece of cardboard with a tree and the students placed pictures of health messages on it. It  was so successful that some students have been coming back the last few weeks. I also  have been working with the local association to help cover a well a local neighborhood. The people of my village are eager to improve the    village and it reinforces my role. I also love to learn stories and history of my village.   The more I ask the more I learn.

This month I visited Aglou, a beach located 15k from Tiznit Center. It is a small town often overlooked my tourist’s. The current is strong and only the brave go for a swim. I visit this area because its idruss-or sparse. Sometimes its nice to be in the solitude of the ocean and enjoy it. This day I met the local men from the Souq- market. One told me that he was a Berber Palm reader. He told me that I have  lost the love of my life and that I would find the next and have children with him but never marry. When I asked him why he said the rivers of my hands, or the lines, didn’t finish that way. The entire time I sat there with the other men of the market I looked around and felt that I had  a connection to this land. After, a friend a I went to see the caves of Aglou. The fishermen   live in them. The majority  dug holes in the coral to make  their homes but some really do live in caves. It was like a dream walking along the ocean only inhabited by the fishermen. It was one of the memories that will live with me for years.

The more I meet people and open up to them the more Morocco is  apart of me. Being far away means less because the memories Ihave made live with me as will the current ones.

Ramada is a holy month throughout the Muslim world. Most people take part in the fast. I did as well. As apart of the month people give to the poor and visit cemetery. The King of Morocco was very generous and donated goods to the needy. During Ramadan people get up at 4 to eat the last meal. No water or food is eaten during day light hours. A meal they call breakfast is eaten after the Tiwuch, the call the prayer at sunset. It consists of a soup, dates and pastries. Very yummmy. In my town people eat a normal dinner at around 10 then head to bed to repeat the fast routine. Everything slowed down this month and many shops closed for the entire month. The streets of major cities were like ghost towns after the Tiwuch.

 I feel this month made me slow down and appreciate my life and think of others who don’t have as much as I have. Ramadan ended this week with the la3id al Fitr and the fast was broken. Families wear their best clothes and people clean up for this event. I sat with the women in the local duoar, neighborhood, and listened to them play the hand drums and sing and dance in a circle. At times I’m left speechless. I can’t belevie I’m partaking in this…the culture is so beautiful. All the people in my town are my family and I love being with them and learning from them.   

Breaking fast with the host family.

Ovens

Walking home….

Chillin at the local well…

Panam view of Town…

Hanging out at the Cemetary

On way up to the house

Meet and Greet

I moved into my new house this month and many have asked for a new version on Cribs so I dusted off the old camera and put it to work. I apologize if I appear nerves it is because the batteries in the camera were running low and I wanted to provide as much footage as possible. Marhaba Bikum…..Welcome all to my house.

 

This video is on a walk to a neighborhood Ait u Ahmu. I was on my way to visit a family and thought I would try to give a outside view. here is a link to find more information on Moroccan Argan trees. http://www.al-bab.com/maroc/env/argan.htm 

Enjoy!

Basically this is what the month panned out like. Most offices are closed this month as it is a popular vacation month in Morocco. I moved into my house in the first week while simultaneously attending weddings. This month is when many people marry. The wedding are elaborate as many family’s save their entire life in preparation for the 4-day events. Cows are slaughtered, all the furnishings bought, and the home is prepared. I was fortunate to actually attend 5 so far one being my host sisters. It was sooooo beautiful. This is the out fit many  of the brides wear. Female guests wear a variation to this. In respect of the culture I didn’t ask my host sister for a picture but i did ask her to dress me as a Bride so all of you can see.  The music in the Background is Berber music.

I don’t want to go into to many details out of respect for my family. This is an overview:

The engagement happened at the beginning of the year. There was a party for it. Then the preparations began. My Moroccan father added space on the house for the event to house many people. Items began to be purchased. Extra tables, couches, pillows, utensils, etc. A month before my sister did not go outside the house according to tradition. During this month we all helped prepare the house. Decorationsin all. My father bought all the food. A freezer was rented to keep it all in as the heat is tough on food. Two weeks before family arrives. My sister packs her belongings as she will move to her husbands home far away from the house. The big day arrives. People come over. Men and women are separated. guests come in and out of my sisters room saying their goodbyes. Many tears. This was hard for me because it was so emotional and everyone is crying and I became close to my sister and she won’t visit for a long time and not seeing her for a while saddens me. The night of day 1 we all eat on the roof and start singing with the hand drums. we stay up till 4 then get up at 7. Day two the preparation of the brides departure. Very emotional. My Moroccan Mother was so sad. I was lucky to be in the room with my sister when my Moroccan grandmother came in and began to dress her crying. She put her in white and tied a bunch of strong smelling herbs on her head. Her older brother and cousin were in the room crying as well. Then a long white sheet of 8 feet is places above her head held by her brother and cousin. She was sobbing at this point understandably. The immediate family follows her then the rest of the entire douar-neighborhood. She walks to the car with a crowd behind her and then off to her new house. The remaining guests go back to the house and repeat the events of the night before. Day 3 in the afternoon the groom comes in the douar with his crowd carrying in the herbs in hand with and crowd spraying perfume at people. He comes to the roof where the aunts of the bride are and hands her the herbs. She also gives him herbs and they are thrown all over. The women wear their adals and only the eyes are shown. After the groom dines with the men and departs similar to Bride. Day 4 people start to leave.

As you can imagine this was an amazing experience for me. This month was a cultural month for me. I also spent time adjusting to living alone and in a new area of my town. Everyday I interact with people to continue my integration and visit my family often. Currently, I’m preparing for the possibility of teaching health to the local children in the fall. Lesson planning is my life, As well as celebrating being in my lovely town….Ramadan is next months events….