The Big Announcement

Yesterday the 40 members of my "stage" traveled from our small training communities to the city of Ouarzazate, our training hub site. In the morning we presented health lessons, in our local language, that we developed based on an issue identified during the community analysis portion of training. Issues ranged from waste management, to diabetes, to hydration, to nutrition, to hygiene, to traffic safety. Lessons included demonstrations, songs, posters, group activities, and drama geared to people of varying ages and education levels. It was amazing how many great ideas could be learned just from other trainees.

Site announcements were held in the afternoon and nerves were high as we waited to hear where in Morocco we would be calling home for the next two years of our lives. In an effort to calm our nerves we decided to hold a silent rave prior to the announcement. The members of the staj, and even a few of our language teachers, could be seen dancing wildly on the roof of the hotel, each to our own music.

Sites were announced by province, with volunteers spread out across 9 provinces. The diversity of landscape and geography in Morocco made the announcements all the more suspenseful. Volunteers will be living and working in the desert, in the mountains, near the beach and everywhere in between.

After 6 weeks in-country, I finally know where I will be serving. My site is one of the most Northern of the group, located in the Boulmane Province. It’s a community of 2000 people, located in the Mid-atlas Mountains, about two and a half hours from Fes.

While there are still several weeks of training left, tomorrow I will travel to my site, and visit my new home stay family, with whom I will be staying for the first 3 months of my service. I’ll have the opportunity to meet local officials, visit the sbitar (health clinic), and talk to current PCVs in the Province about the projects they are working on. I’m incredibly excited to finally explore my new home and to meet the people I will be living, working and sharing my life with. If my current training site is any indication of the people, places and experiences I have to look forward to, the next two years will be absolutely amazing.

Baby Naming, Bunnies, and Bees

The past few weeks at my training site have brought a good deal of excitement. The birth of a new baby girl in Sarah’s home-stay family was cause for celebration throughout my community. Numerous parties were held at her home the following week and on one occasion all of the women in the community gathered for a feast. Large platters of food including whole chickens and noodles topped with a sweet mixture of ground peanuts, cinnamon and sugar were shared by the group. Lively music was played and after the feast was feasted, dancing commenced. Many women partook in the vivacious movement including, to the amusement of those present, me.

The actual naming ceremony was held one week after the baby’s birth and boasted the killing and eating of an entire goat, along with the collective naming of the baby. Here, the name is decided by a vote of family and friends, rather than the parents. I think it could be quite entertaining to adopt this practice in the US.

Easter also came to my training site, though prior to the date I was unsure if I could celebrate it at all. Morocco is a largely Muslim country and, as you can imagine, holidays such as Easter are not generally celebrated by the local population. After some contemplation I concluded that Easter has always been about spending time with people I care about and doing festive activities. With a little creativity I was able to, in a small way, have Easter in Morocco.

Sarah made an American-style lunch and invited us over to share it with her and her home-stay family. We also found a culturally appropriate, festive Easter activity to partake in after lunch. Many families in my community own farm animals, including cows, goats, sheep, chickens, and rabbits. We went to Tim’s house and spent a good part of the afternoon playing with his baby bunnies. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate.

This past weekend I had my own adventure. We had a day off to leave our training sites and I decided to meet some friends from another training group in a small town about 30KM away. I took a “tranzit” to the town and was happy that my first experience traveling alone in Morocco was successful. The community was settled in the mountains and the red cliffs nearby reminded me of Arizona. We stayed at a small, locally owned hotel, with a beautiful view. We cooked dinner in the kitchen, relaxed outside on cushions beneath a small pavilion and spent time talking, playing drums, and learning songs from some Moroccan friends. It was a wonderfully relaxing day. Unfortunately, the events leading up to it were quite the opposite.

Prior to leaving, a disaster struck, of which my entire town talked about. I wanted to get my camera and sneakers out of my class room to use on my trip. When I arrived, there was a swarm of bees buzzing around the entrance to my school. Honey was being harvested and the bees were not happy. Being the optimist that I am I decided that the bees would leave me alone if I left them alone. As I got closer to the entrance, I was swarmed. Bees flew in my hair, down my sweater, and stung me through my clothes. Neighbors began shouting, “Sukaina, tezla!!” I did as they instructed and started running away from the school, yelling and pulling off my long sweater in an attempt to rid myself of the swarm. It was a spectacle. Days later, people were still asking about the bee attack. “Tamara aya!” It was a disaster, I would explain in an animated voice; a response that always got a good laugh. Fortunately I am not allergic to bees and was only left with some welts, a little embarrassment, and a funny story.

Every day brings new experiences and new adventures like these, which is part of what I love about being here. I’m looking forward to the last few weeks at my training site and to the adventures that living and working in my very own site will bring, just hopefully no more “Tamara aya.” 

The Cold Land with the Hot Sun

Morocco has been described as the cold land with the hot sun. It’s spring now and the sun beats relentlessly during the day. The sky is clear and a dry heat radiates off of the rocky terrain. As the sun goes down, the air chills and a bitter cold permeates. Darkness is absolute and the stars shine more brightly than I have ever seen. It is hard to imagine the extremes that will come with summer and winter.

Beyond day and night, this description characterizes the contrasts and diversity within Moroccan geography. Traveling across Morocco you will encounter rocky slopes; beautiful beaches; lush green terraces; rivers; and snow capped mountains; often side by side.

My training site is located in the Dades valley surrounded by the towering Atlas Mountains to the north and dry, round, rocky hills known as the Saghro Mountains to the South. A river flows parallel to the town providing irrigation for lush green fields and crops such as wheat, figs, almonds, and flowers. Looking out past the community of earthen dwellings and rocky paths, beyond the green trees and winding river, to the towering snow-capped mountains, I can’t help but be in awe of the beauty and diversity of my new home.

Imik s Imik- Little by Little

The first night at my home stay house was overwhelming to say the least. Strangers crowded around me, speaking a language completely unfamiliar to my ears. I knew only a few expressions in Tamazight and for once I couldn’t rely on the presence of a fellow English speaker to make sense of what was going on. I was brought into the kitchen and through gestures and a little bit of French I was able to figure out the meaning of some new words. I got out my notebook and started writing down vocabulary. I now carry a notebook with me everywhere I go.

The language is very challenging and at times I feel like between school and my home stay, I’m in class 16 hours a day. It can be frustrating not to be able to communicate what it is you want to say, or to always be saying “urg ssing,” I don’t know. Immersion is a new experience for me, but with the challenges come many rewards. I am learning more quickly than I thought possible and am building relationships at the same time. It is indescribably rewarding to ask for what you want, to understand a conversation between family members, or to be in on a joke.

Beyond language, the magnitude of what I will need to accomplish in order to make a small, lasting impact over the next two years can be daunting. Becoming a part of a completely foreign rural community; understanding community dynamics and building relationships in a different culture; identifying resources; building capacity within the community; co-facilitating projects with local counterparts; and using participatory analysis tools in a foreign language are among the goals to be accomplished during my service.

It can be hard to know where to get started or how to bridge the language barrier. With the help of our language and culture instructor we are starting to learn. We are talking to local authorities and visiting schools and the community health center. We are making connections within our community and identifying resources. Each day at our training site we are learning more about our new home, and in the process, becoming a part of it.

In Tamazight they say, “Imik s Imik,” Little by Little. I see this training as the opportunity to build the foundation for successful service. Having a strong foundation in language and culture, forming relationships and asking the right questions will help me to make a meaningful impact later on. This work is essential to understanding, appreciating and participating in Moroccan culture. While the road ahead may seem insurmountable at times, I truly believe day by day, Imik s Imik, it will come.

A Typical Day at My Community Based Training Site

I’m awakened at 4 AM by the Call to Prayer coming from the Minaret of my town Mosque. I drift in and out of sleep until 7. When I emerge from my room into the open air courtyard in the middle of the home, I am greeted with “spaxir,” good morning. I use the latrine, a small shed with a hole in the ground, attached to my house and wash my face using a bucket of water that has been warmed in a kettle over the fire.

I sit on a make-shift chair, a turned over bucket, next to my younger sister and brother in the kitchen. We eat askif, a porridge made with rice, parsley and tomatoes; and drink a sugary mint tea that my sister has made. After breakfast, I walk down the steep rocky paths to my school, exchanging elaborate greetings along the way.

I arrive at school by 8 and have language class with Taoufiq, our language and culture instructor, and the four other Peace Corps volunteers at my site. At 10:30 we stop for a sweet tea break, followed by more Tamazight practice. At 12:30 we have lunch, which is eaten communally. The main dish, usually tajine, vegetables or lentils cooked with spices, is scooped up with small pieces of agrum (bread).

In the afternoon we walk around the community, practice our language skills and work on our community analysis project. This is practice for what we will be doing at our real site placement. Our first job was to look at the community as a whole, identify assets and opportunities for change and determine what health issues are relevant within the community. We went on visits to the local schools, the health clinic and the local dagger cooperative and talked to people within the community.
After school I often go for a run on the rocky road around my town. I greet many people as I run and sometimes get surprise running partners. Afterwards, I walk back up the jagged paths to my house. Along the way, I often see congregations of children and stop to play with them. We play tag and I teach them songs like the Hokie Pokie. They help me practice my Tamazight and I give them mini English lessons. The people in the community laugh to see me chasing the kids around.

When I get home I greet my family and I sit in the common room to do my language homework. I also spend a lot of time with my mother and sisters in the weaving room, where brightly colored rugs are made on a giant loom. The women gossip and joke as they weave and occasionally some of the women will start dancing to the lively Moroccan music playing on the radio, and invite me to join them. Other than weddings, women only dance in the company of other women. The first time I saw the dancing, I was surprised by the ability of the women to move in such an energetic and spirited way, given their reserved demeanor in the presence of men. Dancing has quickly become one of my favorite activities here.

Dinner is cooked over a fire pit and generally consists of couscous and vegetables at my house. My host family has been very understanding when it comes to me being a vegetarian. We usually don’t eat dinner until 10:30 PM, and dinner, like lunch, is shared communally. We sit on the floor of the common area and eat from a large platter. My family often makes couscous into small balls which they pop into their mouths. Couscous can be made into balls by bouncing it in the palm of the hand. My family is generally amused by the mess that is made due to my novice ball making skills. After dinner I go to my room and sleep on the floor with a large assortment of homemade blankets. I sleep very well until the next Call to Prayer.

Sundays are the exception to this schedule, as I don’t have school. My sisters use the opportunity to teach me all of the things I’ll need to know. I get up early and help make the askif. I help collect fire wood and make fresh bread. I really enjoy making the bread. I punch and knead the dough and mold it with my hands before placing it on the tray over the fire pit. My sisters always enjoy watching me because of my enthusiasm for punching the dough. Later in the day, clothes are washed in buckets and hung on trees to dry. I always enjoy the extra time I get to spend with my family on Sundays.

A Feast For the Senses: Market Day

Ascending the narrow paths of my valley community, the sounds of pounding metal can be heard from within sand-colored dwellings. Ornate daggers of all shapes and sizes are being meticulously crafted by local artisans. Smoke snakes through the air. Gravel crunches rhythmically beneath our feet as blue mountains, topped with white peeks, emerge in the distance. Lush green grass and willowy trees sprout near a streaming brown river; an oasis in the dry climate. Jaunty greetings in Tamazight are exchanged with handshakes and kisses on the cheeks.

An hour and a half’s walk down gently winding dirt paths brings a neighboring sand castle city closer into view. The city reveals shops, cafes and cyber cafes filled with customers draped in flowing garb. The air is dry and the sun is hot. Just beyond the city, a market teams with activity. Eyes are struck by the beam of bright colors. Radiant beads, blankets, clothing and head wraps can be seen in all colors of the rainbow; their colors matched by eggplant, oranges, tomatoes, bananas, dates and other fresh produce. The aroma of spices permeates the air from open bags at intermittent stalls. Donkeys stand idle in the narrow paths. Salty roasted peanuts; sweet chewy dates; and soft, steamed chick peas sprinkled with cumin tantalize taste buds. Walking back down the dusty road, our bags filled to the brim with the bounty for the week, our stomachs satisfied, I am already eager for next weeks’ trip to the Souk.

Isminu Sukaina

Upon arrival at my training site several weeks ago I was given a new Moroccan name by my host family. Sukaina: peaceful, calm, and innocent. Now, Sukaina is the name I respond to and the name I have come to be known by. When asked my name, “Isminu Sukaina,” I respond with pride. People in the community ask my family and friends, “how’s Sukaina?” Children yell “we love you, Sukaina” as I walk by. When I help make dinner my sisters enthusiastically tell the rest of the family that they’re eating “sukso n Sukaina,” Sukaina’s couscous.

I believe my name is a small representation of my integration into Moroccan culture. The past few weeks have brought countless greetings, conversations, games with local children, invitations for teas and dinners and introductions. With each day and each new interaction I am becoming “Sukaina” and I am becoming a part of my community.