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.