Friday, September 2, 2011

Epiphany

This morning I got a phone call from Stan, my site mate (that is, the other PCV, or Peace Corps Volunteer, who also lives in my site, or town), asking me to meet him and his host father at an apartment they were visiting to see if perhaps Stan might move into it. Stan had previously said to me that he felt that I could help in translating for him when he goes to look at apartments, since I know more Darija than he does. So I got up and went to meet Stan and his host father. Given that the apartment was only a few blocks away from my apartment, I didn't have to walk far to meet them.

The apparent owner showed us into the apartment. First he brought us into a carpeted room with many pillows on the floor, common in Morocco. We all removed our shoes, as one typically does when stepping into a carpeted room in a Moroccan home. He offered tea and pastries to Stan and me. I appreciated that he asked if I wanted tea with or without sugar. Given that Moroccans typically sweeten their tea more than I like, I asked for tea without sugar.

Moroccans typically sit down with the person with whom they might potentially do business, and have tea and something accompanying it, like pastries in this case, or perhaps peanuts, before getting down to business. So, once I had had some tea and a pastry, we stood up and left that room, and went to see and discuss the rest of the apartment.

Though at this point, I must clarify that it turned out to not be an apartment, but rather two rooms in the apparent owner's home, unseparated from the rest of the house. In one of the rooms, a doorway with no door in it, and the shape of a window, with no window in it, led from the space which the owner wanted to rent, into the space which would not be rented. He said he would complete the wall so that the doorway and the window would be closed up and filled up by a wall.

Although this arrangement seemed a bit sketchy to me, Stan requested that I ask the apparent owner how much he wanted to charge for rent. The apparent owner replied with a rate that was more than twice the usual amount of rent for an apartment here in town. Given that the Peace Corps sets a ceiling for the amount of rent money they'll give us PCVs to pay our rent, and that this proposed rent amount was well above that ceiling, a counter-bargain clearly had to be forthcoming if Stan was going to rent this space. So he asked me to tell the apparent owner that because I rent an apartment with four rooms, that he would pay a certain amount he suggested, which was less than what I pay for my apartment. I can't say that I was surprised that this particular logic was not successful with this particular man who was showing us this space for rent, because he initially proposed such a high amount of rent. Essentially I felt that today provided another instance of how some Moroccans try to charge more for something when they are interacting with someone from the USA.

So, in the end, we left the building without having found someplace for Stan to rent. We walked along until we reached the main road, where we ran into a Moroccan teacher I had met a few months ago. He organized the festival of student talent, which I had briefly mentioned in my first blog entry in June of this year, with a PCV who lives in the town where he lives. It was good to see him. Notably, he speaks English fairly well. So, the vast majority of our conversation with him was in English. We spoke about a variety of topics, including some projects involving youth on which he has worked. At one point, when we were discussing development work, he said that he feels that it is more important for students to develop skills and abilities than it is for a community to receive gifts of money and property. I thanked him for acknowledging the value of developing oneself as compared with receiving cash and goods. It encourages me when I interact with Moroccans, certainly including Moroccan teachers, who recognize and express this principle.

I also enjoyed his easygoing, welcoming, familiar and jocular manner. At one point, he said to Stan and me that you don't see a lot of dogs in Morocco. He said that Moroccans are not fond of dogs, so that they don't treat them that well.

Then he said to us,

"OK, I'm going to tell you a joke.

So there was this exchange program between Morocco and the USA. A Moroccan dog went to the USA for a year, and an American dog came to Morocco for a year. After the year was over, the two dogs met in the airport in Casablanca.

The American dog asked the Moroccan dog, 'So, what did you think of the US?'

The Moroccan dog replied, 'It's a great place. There is a lot of beautiful scenery; there is a lot of diversity, people of many different origins, like Japanese, Mexican, Irish. So, yes, it was very interesting.' The Moroccan dog then asked the American dog, 'So, what did you think of Morocco?'

The American dog replied, 'You know, I never realized that I was a dog until I came to Morocco.'"

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