Reflecting On Nearly Two Years Of Peace Corps Service

I just finished my Peace Corps service earlier this afternoon, as today is my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date.  About nine other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I spent yesterday afternoon and this morning and this afternoon completing various administrative tasks.  In the last day or two, we've signed a lot of forms.  We also visited various offices at Peace Corps Headquarters here in Rabat, getting signatures of various Peace Corps staff members documenting that we've complied with various reporting requirements.  We had them verify that we've complied with assorted administrative requirements, including returning Peace Corps property, such as our medical kits and smoke detectors, and any books we took out from the Peace Corps library here at Peace Corps Headquarters in Rabat.

It feels good to have just finished my Peace Corps service.  Though I'm not sure how much I've helped here, at least I tried to help.  As a PCV, you'll never know the full effects you've had.

Although I won't know much about how I've helped here, there will be some interactions from my time here in Morocco and from the application process, and from the decision process to apply to the Peace Corps that I think I'll never forget.  Among them are:

* Sitting in church in August 2009 and listening to the pastor say that when we set out to help others and are worried about being lonely, that Jesus reassures us that He will be there with us.  That was the moment when I decided that I was definitely applying to the Peace Corps.

* Standing on the Sundial Bridge in Redding, California, in November 2009 and being approached by three middle-aged men who told me that they were on a treasure hunt.  They told me that they were looking for people who needed their prayers.  Immediately I responded that I needed their prayers, since I was applying to the Peace Corps to teach English in a foreign country, and was studying for the CLEP (College Level Examination Program) test to show my proficiency level in French to the Peace Corps.  We stood on the bridge, with our arms on each others' shoulders, praying, asking God to help me. 

* Driving north on Interstate 280 from San Jose to San Francisco on one particular afternoon in June 2010, knowing that the big blue envelope with the invitation from the Peace Corps was waiting for me at home in San Francisco.  As I drove home that day, I remember thinking that I was on my way to find out where I would be living for the next two years of my life.

* Driving north on 19th Avenue in San Francisco on that same day in June 2010, and, as I was only a few minutes from home, listening to the classical radio station play "Palladio" by Karl Jenkins.  I felt, and still feel, that its urgent, charged tempo and rhythm was apropos, as I only had a few more minutes to wait to find out to where I would be moving and serving in the Peace Corps. 

* Driving east on Interstate 580 right after I left the San Francisco Bay Area in July 2010 and sobbing as I left behind so many loved ones and the life I had lived there for years.  As I was sobbing, gasping for air, I was listening to the band Coldplay perform the song "What If."  As I listened to its message of being bold and taking the leap to live bravely, I reaffirmed my commitment to enter the Peace Corps. 

* Freaking out in early September 2010 as the time imminently approached for me to move out of the United States, in the only culture I had ever known. 

* Walking through the airport in Philadelphia where the other PCVs and I were meeting for our Staging date, when we had our orientation in the US preparing us to leave the US and fly here to Morocco.  As I neared the exit of the airport, I saw a poster advertising the Peace Corps which said, "Never have to start sentences with 'I should have...'"

* Speaking with my host brother, in whose home I lived during the first two months I lived here in Morocco.  In particular, I especially recall one conversation I had with him in which he was persistently apologizing for the attacks made in the US on September 11, 2001.  Despite my protests that he didn't have a responsibility to apologize for those attacks, he continued to apologize for them.

* Meeting a courageous young Moroccan Christian woman on the train between Marrakech and Fes in November 2010.  After she stated that it's illegal to be Christian in Morocco, she nevertheless shared her story of how she converted to Christianity despite the initial opposition of her family, who at first ostracized her and shunned her for deciding to be a Christian. 

* Leaving the cyber one day in November or December 2010 in the town in the Sahara where I lived for the better part of two years.  As I walked out into the Sahara sun, I despaired at how I felt that no one in the town would be able to understand how I felt, with the homesickness and culture shock I was feeling. 

* Crumpling emotionally in late January 2011 as I felt like I didn't have the strength to continue as a PCV, yet simultaneously feeling as if I had no choice but to continue with my Peace Corps service.  Feeling trapped, I cried out.  Soon after feeling so emotional, I found renewed fortitude as I thought of Jesus' words in Matthew 25:42-43.  I recalled His words there, how He reminds us that when we help the disempowered and disadvantaged, we are respecting Him.  Reminding myself of this teaching, I realized that I wouldn't be going anywhere, and that I would be finishing my Peace Corps service as scheduled, so as to help the people who I came here to Morocco to help. 

* Talking with a particular student at Spring Camp in 2011.  I was so glad to be discussing with him how God wants us to help each other.  I so enjoyed discussing the meaning of life with him, and even more knowing that he had been trying to live his life in a way to infuse it with meaning. 

* Meeting other expat Christians here in Morocco and attending Bible study sessions with them.  As I experienced spiritual community and fellowship with them, which I cherished very much, we supported each other as we tended to each others' spiritual growth.  Along with much of the spiritual reading I've done while here in Morocco, I felt like I benefited enormously from their support.

* Helping youths here in Morocco develop their critical thinking skills.  In the process, I feel that they articulated their ideals, what is most important to them, and how they want to live their lives.  In such creative writing exercises, they seemed to be describing the kind of people they admire and the type of people they aspire to be.  I hope that I helped them to be more conscious in how they choose to live their lives.

* Enjoying the magnanimous hospitality of Moroccans so many times.  I've been reminded that it is so important to be generous towards others and to take care of others.

Rather than bringing back a lot of new material possessions from Morocco, I'll be returning to the US with the insight gained from having lived in a markedly different culture.  I've learned, from different cultural norms, how I can benefit from approaching life in different ways.  I feel that I've learned how to be a better person.  I feel that during my Peace Corps service, God has taught, guided and directed me.  I'm so glad that I made the major changes in my life which were necessary to come here, since I feel that I am a much better person as a result of having so drastically changed my life. 

Whistling In The Dark

Recently one night when I was in bed, trying to fall asleep in the Sahara, my post during my Peace Corps service here in Morocco, I was reminded of a certain superstition which supposedly some Moroccans have.  As I was resting there in bed in the dark, I barely heard a television playing somewhere.  On the TV was a commercial which sometimes plays here which includes whistling.  For some reason, even though I'd heard this commercial numerous times before, only as I heard it then in the dark did it remind me of the superstition here that if you whistle in your house, you're going to let a djinn, that is, a genie, into your home.  However, just as in the US, here in Morocco certainly not everyone subscribes to superstitions.  I was so reminded during a recent visit to the home of a family I know in town.

Perhaps a few days after I heard that commercial when I was trying to fall asleep, I was at the home of this particular family in town, visiting them for dinner.  As usual when one visits the home of a Moroccan family here in Morocco, the TV was playing.  As I sat there with the family, that same commercial which features whistling started playing on their TV.  I mentioned the superstition that if you whistle in your house, you'll let in a djinn. Some of the family members nearly seemed to chuckle, apparently unconcerned.  As an added expression of their lack of concern, one of them noted that the pressure cooker on the stove was starting to whistle!

A New Friendship Between A PCV And A Moroccan

Today I joined my friend David, who's also my site mate, that is, my fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who also lives here in town, when he went to his host family's house for lunch.  I invited our fellow PCV Ariana, a young woman who lives about five kilometers south, to join us at their home for lunch.  I was glad that she joined us.  I'd been wanting to introduce her especially to the younger daughter of the family for a while.

Before she arrived, David and I were admiring the keftans, or Moroccan women's robes, which the younger daughter of the family had made in the course of her occupation as a seamstress.  One was yellow and the other was purple.  Both were embroidered with intricate weaving down the front middle seam.  The yellow one had a rust-colored vest which went over it.  The purple one had matching loose pants which accompanied it.  As a side note, most Moroccan women's clothing, and especially keftans, tend to be loose-fitting, unlike, for example, Malaysian women's clothing which is a bit more form-fitting.  My site mate predicted that our fellow PCV would thoroughly enjoy such colorful, decorative keftans.

When our fellow PCV Ariana arrived, she was absolutely thrilled with the beautiful handiwork of the younger daughter of the family.  She was all smiles, and thoroughly enjoyed trying on the keftan which the daughter put on her.

Normally when one goes to a Moroccan home, the food is a primary, prominent part of the visit.  During this particular visit, the family had to redirect us, from the clothing, and the new friendship which my fellow PCV had struck up with the younger daughter of the family, back to the tea and cookies which had been sitting waiting for us on the low round table.

Also, normally the hosts pour the tea for the guests.  For some reason, the father of the family repeatedly directed me to pour the tea, so I poured the tea.  I forgot to pour the tea in the typical Moroccan fashion of drawing the teapot high above the glass, so that the tea falls in a long arc from the teapot which is high above the glass.  Accordingly, the younger daughter reminded me to do so when she took the teapot and demonstrated the customary way to pour tea here in Morocco.

After the tea and cookies, we enjoyed our lunch, a tajine, which is essentially the Moroccan equivalent of a type of stew.  The tajine we enjoyed today was one of chicken, potatoes and green olives.  We sat on the floor around a low round table, each of us grabbing morsels from the part of the communal dish which was nearest to us with pieces of bread--which the family baked themselves--which we ripped from large, flat, round loaves.  Here in Morocco, it's customary to only take food out of the communal dish with one's right hand, as it's understood that the left hand is reserved for performing private sanitary functions.  One also uses the bread to soak up some of the tajine oil which sits at the bottom of the large communal dish.

But, again, the food today played a supporting role.  In one way, the food was secondary to the sartorial creations we admired.

However, the food also was upstaged by the new friendship forged between my one fellow PCV and my other fellow PCV's host sister, that is, the younger daughter in his host family.  After the meal, my site mate soon left since he had to meet some community members regarding some upcoming work he hopes to do here in town.  My other fellow PCV kept asking the younger daughter how to say certain words in Tashelheit, which is one of the Berber languages, and which is spoken in this southern region of Morocco where we live, here in the Sahara.  As when my fellow PCV was trying on and was wearing the beautiful yellow keftan and accompanying rust-colored vest, she and the younger daughter of the family were sharing much laughter and smiles as they discussed Berber vocabulary.

While I was sad to be saying goodbye to the family, and while they looked rather sad to be seeing me leave their home, since I won't be seeing them again before I leave town so soon from now, I was very pleased to see my fellow PCV having such a good time at their home.  I left their home with a warm, satisfying feeling, because, despite saying farewells with them, they had made a new friend whose company they seemed to enjoy so much.

Be Like The Children

Last week as I was walking back to the apartment where I've been living here in the Sahara, I passed a few different groups of children. I was struck by how carefree they were, apparently not caring about their surroundings.

First I crossed paths with three little ones, perhaps three, four and five years old, who were snaking their way down the sidewalk, as they trotted along. The one all the way in back had his hands on the hips of the middle one, who had his hands on the hips of the front one. They were pretending to be some sort of motorized vehicle, making beeping sounds as they navigated their way around people and items being sold on the dusty sidewalk.

Later I saw a little boy, maybe five or six years old, who was rolling a bicycle tire down a dirt road. One often sees kids here in town setting a tire rolling and then running after it, keeping it rolling by pushing it along with a stick.  They find amusement and opportunities for play in what they happen to find around them.

During this walk back to the apartment, I was greeted by other little children. As is so often the case when I am greeted by little children here in Morocco, they cheerfully greeted me in French by declaring, "Bonjour!"

Soon after I had seen all these little children, playing and otherwise seeming to be so happy, despite the poverty in which they are residing, unbothered to be living so simply, without many material comforts, I thought of a particular teaching of Jesus. In considering how joyous these children seem to be in such circumstances, I pondered that such an approach to life perhaps is at least part of what Jesus meant, at Matthew 18:4, when he counseled, "Whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven."

My Peace Corps Service As An Investment That Has Been Paying Off

With less than two weeks of my Peace Corps service left, I've given away most of the things which had been in the apartment I've been renting. Yesterday a couple of my fellow PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers), who are much earlier in their service than I am, came here to town and took away some of the last few remaining items. One of them got a grand taxi to drive her to my residence, where the refrigerator I've been using got loaded on top of the taxi and tied down with rope. Another PCV got a grand taxi to come to my place. She took away the ponj, the lightweight foam rectangular cube-like sofa on which I'd been sleeping for the last three months while I've been here in town.

Later in the day yesterday, I emptied the bedroom and swept it. Then I set up a sleeping space in the bedroom, composed of a heavy winter blanket as padding on the floor, covered by a fitted sheet, with a heavy winter blanket to cover me in the slight overnight chill which has started to descend upon us here in the Sahara. In light of how I've been recently enjoying giving away more and more possessions, I viewed this new, simple sleeping arrangement in a satisfying manner, and thought, "All right, now we're really starting to get somewhere!"

Having given away the fridge, now I need to drink all of the milk I buy in one sitting. Thus, I stopped buying one-liter boxes of milk, since I normally wouldn't drink that much milk all at once. Although a one-liter box of milk only costs 9 dirhams, which is equivalent to a little more than one US dollar, since I got rid of my fridge, I've started buying small cold bags of milk which cost 3 dirhams each. Thus, yesterday after my friend and fellow PCV took away the fridge, I went and bought a small bag of cold milk. I was bringing it back to the apartment to eat with an amlou and strawberry jam sandwich. I recently blogged about amlou, which is essentially Moroccan peanut butter. However, I don't think that that amlou I'd previously bought contained argan oil. The amlou I'm currently using contains argan oil, almonds, sugar, salt, fennel, and vegetable oil. So I suppose that it's really like almond butter rather than peanut butter.

In any case, I was arriving back at the apartment to enjoy an amlou and strawberry jam sandwich with some cold milk when I noticed that my neighbor, a Moroccan fellow who teaches French here in town, was also arriving at the apartment building with some of his friends, who are also teachers here in town. My neighbor invited me into his apartment to have tea with them. It was in the late afternoon, or perhaps already the early evening, at that hour of day when Moroccans have kaskroute, which is like an afternoon snack.

I joined them for kaskroute. We sat on the floor around a low, round table in my neighbor's living room, drinking tea and eating dates and peanuts. When I finished my tea, my host filled my tea glass. When I finished the second glass of tea, I kept my tea glass by my side. I didn't want him to fill it again. The teapot was rather small and no one else had yet enjoyed a second glass. Despite keeping my glass at my side, nevertheless my host noted that I had again drained it. He asked me if I wanted more tea. I politely declined.

After we had finished having kaskroute, we were standing in the hallway of his apartment. Two of his friends started wrestling with each other. Moroccan males sometimes wrestle standing up, seeing which of them can best the other in the friendly contest. Soon after the brief wrestling match, I took my leave of them, glad that I had snacked with them.

Today I made sure to visit a family here in town whom I've visited from time to time while I've lived here. I wanted to be sure to see them again before I leave town. First we had tea and peanuts. A little while later, we had lunch, sitting on the floor around a low, square table. For lunch we had lentils and beef, each of us ripping apart pieces of bread to grab lentils and beef from the part of the communal dish which was closest to each of us. For dessert, we enjoyed grapes and apples.

After we had had dessert, I bid adieu to most of them. As I was walking back to my apartment, their son was walking with me for part of the way. At one point he asked me if I go to church. I told him that whenever I can go to church, I do indeed go to church, since it's important to me to do so. Then I added that at times, it's been hard living here in Morocco, because I haven't always been able to go to church here; there's no church here in town, and I'm not otherwise always near a church. However, I shared with him that we learn more when we're having a difficult time than we learn when we're comfortable. I suggested to him that I believe that God allows us to face trials and tribulations because in such trying circumstances, we learn and grow and develop. I've been grateful for such opportunities to learn and grow while I've been a PCV. Indeed, I became a PCV so that I would learn through facing difficulties. I'm glad to say that I feel like I have benefited from living in certain trying circumstances here. For that reason and for others, I feel like my decision to enter the Peace Corps has been an investment which has been paying off.

Enjoying Just Walking In The Park

As I rapidly approach my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date, I've been appreciating in a new light various elements of my experience here in Morocco.  Of course, with less than two weeks left until I finish my Peace Corps service, I'm conscious that I don't have a lot of time left to experience in person the benefits of life here. 

In this town where I live here in the Sahara, I've enjoyed walking through the palmerie, which is the massive grove of palm trees which stretches in, through, and out of this town on both ends.  It's so extensive that you can't see the ends of it even when you're on top of the mountains near the town.  I feel a serenity and calming influence there amongst the quiet of the palms.

In addition to the tranquility of the palmerie, it also teems with a variety of life.  I most often have seen dates hanging from the palms, and have been very happy to savor the sweetness of many dates plucked from the palmerie.  However, I've also seen apples, apricots, and pomegranates growing in the palmerie. 

We often enjoy fantastic weather here in town.  On many days, the sky beams blue.  It rarely rains here in town.  In any case, I've always been able to see the nearby mountains when I've gone for walks in the palmerie here.

For quite a while, I'd been wanting to go for a moonlit stroll through the palmerie.  After noticing over a period of a few days that the moon had been getting fuller and fuller, I found out that the moon would be rising around the hour of sunset.  In yet another fortunate turn, the weather had been clear day after day as the moon was becoming more and more full.  Accordingly, a couple of nights ago, I headed out for a moonlit walk through the palmerie.

I purposely chose a route which took me, for the most part, on wider paths so that my way would be less likely to be darkened by moon shadows being cast by mud walls or palm trees.  Consequently, for most of my walk, I was able to see where I was stepping.  By the light of the moon, I also enjoyed seeing across fields there in the palmerie. 

During my nighttime excursion through the palmerie, I not only was glad to experience the palmerie under a different type and amount of light, but I was also pleased to be experiencing its beauty and serenity in an even more quiet setting than usual.  Although I heard some dogs barking far away, usually I only heard a chorus of crickets as I walked under the palms. 

I also was glad to be walking through the palmerie at such a late and unusual hour since I was alone.  Discounting the three toads I saw hopping along at a few different points, I didn't see anyone else the entire time I was on my nighttime stroll through the palmerie.  When I walk in the palmerie during the day, usually I pass someone at some point.  So while I typically walk through the palmerie mostly alone, I appreciated the experience of walking there even more when I was doing so late at night, in complete solitude. 

On my moonlit stroll, I spent about 40 minutes in the palmerie, exiting it a few minutes after midnight.  I was glad that despite feeling fatigued, I had made myself get up and go out for the late night visit to the palmerie.  On that trip, I got to experience a place I very much enjoy, but from a new perspective, which has helped me to appreciate it in new ways.

Since the palmerie is so huge, there are so many trails to explore that I've probably only hiked a tiny percentage of the palmerie's paths.  It certainly has been a tremendous blessing from God to have what is essentially such an immense park here in the town where I have been living, and for one which I have been extremely grateful to God.

The Sun Is Setting On My Peace Corps Service

I'm getting so close to the end of my Peace Corps service that when I do a lot of things now, it's the last time that I'm going to do them here in Morocco.  Today I went to the city that's near my town, making the last round-trip journey during my Peace Corps service to that city.

Very early this morning, here in Morocco, we shifted our clocks one hour back, so that we're once again on "old time," as folks here sometimes put it, or in the time zone of GMT (Greenwich Mean Time).  However, not everyone alters their schedule to conform to the time change.  So, just to be safe, I showed up at the bus station as if the time change hadn't occurred.  Sure enough, the bus was there at the bus station as if the time change hadn't happened.  I was glad that I got up an hour early to catch the bus!

When I got to the city, I made my way to a cafe I've frequented there in that city.  I was enjoying the glorious day, the brilliant blue sky and the temperate weather as I savored a "nuss-nuss," (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "half-half"), which, in the context of going to a cafe, is a cup filled half with coffee and half with milk.  Moroccan coffee tends to be pretty strong, so usually I order a nuss-nuss, rather than follow my practice in the US of ordering a cup filled mostly with coffee and a little milk.  Even so, a nuss-nuss often still gives me a minor case of the jitters!

As I was sitting outside, basking in the sunshine and enjoying my hot beverage, I saw a girl, perhaps in her late teens, ride a bicycle around the roundabout, her head covered in a hijab, that is, a headscarf.  Upon seeing her exercise her freedom of movement, I was reminded of the words of a young friend of mine, another Moroccan teenage girl.  While traveling outside Morocco, she had recently met Muslim girls from other nations and realized that she and other Moroccan girls enjoy freedoms which Muslim girls in certain other countries don't have.  I was glad to hear my friend's thoughts, her realizations about her life and the world.  I was happy that her realm of experience had been widened such that she had altered her perceptions of herself, her life, other girls, and the world around her.  Observing the Moroccan girl on the bicycle this morning, I once again began to wonder how I'm going to process my cultural observations from Morocco once I'm back in the US and have the changed perspective of being back in the states.

After my visit to the cafe, there in the city I attended Bible study with some of my Christian expat friends who live here in Morocco.  I've been so thankful to God for the fellowship and spiritual community I've shared with them, getting to worship God and celebrate His blessings with them.  I certainly didn't expect to live in a location here in Morocco where I would be able to commune regularly with other Christians, so I've been very grateful for their presence, care, warmth and support of me in my Christian faith.  After Bible study, we had a lovely outdoor barbeque, with grilled chicken and sausages, potato casserole, cake and cookies, among other delicious food.  I felt better after getting to say goodbye to my Christian brothers and sisters there, as well as to some fellow PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) who were there in the city today.  I feel like I get more of a proper sense of closure, putting me more at ease, when, in person and with sufficient time, I get to properly say goodbye to people. And, in this particular context of completing my Peace Corps service, when I get to say proper goodbyes, I feel like I'm appropriately preparing to leave this country where I have lived for two years.

On the bus ride back here to the town where I live here in the Sahara, I consciously looked at this town as we approached it, realizing that surely it was the last time I would view it from that location and angle during my Peace Corps service, and, quite probably, for the last time at all.  Returning here to town so late in the day, admiring the sun setting on the mountains near this town, I considered an analogy of the scope of the sun today to my Peace Corps service.  As the sun set today, so the sun is setting on my Peace Corps service.

Mixing US Culture And Host Country Culture

Among the many culinary creations I enjoy are jelly doughnuts.  I've been looking forward to having some when I get back to the states.

In the meantime, while I've been living here in Morocco, from time to time I enjoy "shfinj," which are Moroccan fried doughnuts.  I've been glad that one shop here in the town where I live in the Sahara sells shfinj.

I'd been thinking for a while of buying not only shfinj again, but also some strawberry jelly and making some shfinj into jelly doughnuts.  Accordingly, yesterday some of us at the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), went and got some shfinj, strawberry jelly and granulated sugar.  Although the shfinj they sell here in town have holes in the middle, we cut open the sides and stuffed them with strawberry jelly.  Then we sprinkled some granulated sugar on top of them.

I explained to the dar shebab moudir (Darija for "director") and some of the kids there that some of the doughnuts in the US resemble the creations we were eating.  Thus we took a little bit of the culture here in Morocco, added in some elements used in similar cultural offerings in the US, and had a bit of cross-cultural exchange--in the form of some tasty treats!

Losing Fluency In English Redux

My COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date is two weeks from today.  Consequently, I've been working on transitioning out of my service.  I've been preparing to leave the town where I've been living here in the Sahara for the better part of two years.  I've been looking ahead to the adjustments I'll be making once I finish my Peace Corps service.

Of course I'll be adjusting to life after Morocco as a result of how I've been living here in Morocco.  While I've lived here in Morocco, I've gotten used to operating in certain ways.  For one thing, I've been speaking English less than I did in the states.  It is true that many people here in Morocco know enough English that a good deal of the time, people speak with me in English, and, consequently, I speak with them in English.  Nevertheless, much of the time I'm speaking Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic, or French.  Thus I've been speaking less English than I did in the states.

As a result of speaking English less often, PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) sometimes stumble when they try to speak English.  Yesterday I had exactly such trouble, as I was on my way back from this cyber, when I crossed paths with one of the students who often comes to the dar shebab (Darija for "youth center"), where I've done most of my volunteering as a PCV here in Morocco.

He asked me, "You was in the cyber?"

I corrected him, "You were in the cyber."

He posed his question rephrased, "You were in the cyber?"

I replied, "I was in the cyber," but then I immediately doubted whether I had correctly conjugated the verb "to be"!  Hopefully I'm not going to have trouble speaking English once I'm back in the US!

Some Snapshots Of Morocco Right Now

Since loved ones back home always ask me how I'm doing here in Morocco, I thought I would simply provide some slices of life here in Morocco from the last few days. I thought people might appreciate some narrative snapshots, that is, some brief descriptions, of what I've recently experienced.

As I mentioned in my last blog entry, I was in Marrakech this past weekend. While walking down the street, I saw everyone simply going about their usual business. I often enjoy seeing women on motorcycles in Marrakech. I saw a woman, with her head completely uncovered, who was riding a motorcycle. I saw another woman who was wearing a hijab, or headscarf, who was riding a motorcycle. I saw a man riding a motorcycle with a completely veiled woman as his passenger. I looked down the street and saw it filled with the same traffic I always see. People were just going around the city as usual.

Despite my visit to Marrakech happening on typical days there, I had an unusual visit there, since I met up with a good number of my fellow PCVs to say goodbye to them. I knew that I wasn't going to get to say goodbye to them if I didn't see them there in Marrakech that weekend, so I went up to the city to spend some time with them and bid adieu to them in person. I felt calmer, and less separation anxiety, about parting ways with them once I had said proper goodbyes with them.

Once I had gotten back here to the town where I live down here in the Sahara, again I saw people simply going about their business. I was struck by one very brief slice from my day yesterday. In the space of literally one minute yesterday, a man who I'd recently met stopped and chatted with me for a moment or two, grinning from ear to ear. In that same minute, I exchanged waves with a city hall employee who was passing me on his motorcycle. And in that brief span of time, I stopped and shook hands with one of the kids who lives on the block where I live, which made me smile.

So, in case you've been wondering, this is what my world looks like. This has been my recent experience here.

Being Content Despite The Circumstances

Not only can you have valuable and insightful self-realizations in humbling and austere circumstances, but, I would contend, you're actually more likely to have such realizations under such conditions. I feel like I had such helpful musings today during a stop on my return trip south from Marrakech, after I went there for the weekend.

Soon before I left Marrakech, I was sweating since it has been hot there. Hence I was happy that I was taking a CTM bus back south to the Sahara. CTM buses are newer, cleaner, brighter, and safer than most other buses here in Morocco. Given that CTM buses are nicer than most other buses here, the air conditioning was on in full force on the bus. I had both of the vents above me completely open, and with the cold air blasting down on me, it felt downright chilly despite the heat outside the bus.

I spent much of the trip south from Marrakech admiring the landscape. While we were riding through the High Atlas mountains, I pointed out a waterfall to a couple of friendly, pleasant French tourists sitting across the aisle from me. Soon after that, we went over the Tichka Pass, at an elevation of 2260 meters, or 7414 feet, above sea level.

When the bus stopped for a lunch break in the small town of Agouim, about one hour north of Ouarzazate, I got off the bus and looked across the street, at the line of shops there. I walked across the street to find some shade. In small Moroccan towns, most shops, including hanoots (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery stores"), close at lunchtime, starting between 12:00 p.m. and 1:00 p.m., and re-open in the latter half of the afternoon. Given that it was nearly 2:00 p.m., I had no trouble finding a closed shop, where I sat on some unused steps.

I pulled out the round bread and the can of tuna in tomato sauce which I'd bought this morning in Marrakech. When I know that I'm going to be traveling during lunchtime, I try to bring a sandwich, or at least what I need to make a sandwich. A lot of the time when buses make these pit stops, they stop in towns where folks sell street food, that is, food that's cooked on the sidewalk. When I eat street food here, I get sick; thus, usually I don't eat it. Consequently, I was glad that I had brought along this food; I was happy to be packing the tuna into the bread and eating it.

After a little while, I became conscious that I was happy to be sitting there eating my lunch amidst discarded tires and scattered garbage. I wondered what had happened to me. Earlier in my Peace Corps service, I had been disgusted and irritated to be constantly surrounded by trash. I wondered if people would think me radically different when I arrive back in the states.

Then I considered how, before I'd started making and eating my sandwich, I'd disinfected my hands with hand sanitizer. I still have some of the same outwardly visible habits I'd had before I came here to Morocco. I figured that people back home wouldn't think I'd become a completely different person. I came to a similar conclusion again after I'd finished eating, when I cleaned my hands with a sanitizing hand wipe.

It's not that I haven't changed in significant ways. I have changed in a variety of ways. Yet I've also retained certain habits. As I noted above, I've changed how I approach the phenomenon of garbage on the ground here. It's not that I no longer care about it; I certainly do still care about it. I just don't let it irritate me. I do what I can about it. I've done environmental lessons about properly disposing of trash and respecting the environment, and I've otherwise tried to instruct youths about properly getting rid of garbage. Knowing that I've been doing something about it, I'm less prone to get angry about it.

Yet it's not just about doing something about it. Yes, if you care, you're going to do something about it. But I'm not less bothered by trash on the ground simply because I've been trying to address it. I'm also increasingly more at peace with my surroundings, because I've been endeavoring to value what's most important in life. Thus I try to focus on what nourishes me, and especially what is most essential, namely treasuring how God feeds my spirit, and I try to ignore what ultimately are more trivial matters.

I've always strived to live as simply as possible. I've always tried to value most highly those gifts of each day which have been most supportive and nourishing of my mind, body and spirit.

Thus, I realized, as I was sitting on that concrete stoop, eating my lunch amidst scraps of garbage, that I was content merely because I had food to eat. I found irrelevant the circumstances in which I was eating it. I try to focus on what's important. I thank God for my daily bread.

Friday Lunch In Morocco

Last Friday, I went to the home of one of my favorite families here in Morocco. They live in the town where I live down in the Sahara. If you don't know people well here in Morocco, it's proper etiquette not to show up at their home unannounced. On the other hand, if you've established a warm, familiar connection, it's acceptable to arrive at their home without having been invited on a specific day when you arrive at their home. Indeed, it almost seems that it's expected that you'll show up unannounced. With this particular family, in the past when I hadn't shown up to dine at their home for weeks, and then when I ran into them while out and about in town, they asked me where I had been and when I would be coming over to their home.

Accordingly, as it had been a few weeks since I had been at their home due to my recent travels, last Friday I went to their home for lunch. Given that it was Friday, they served couscous for lunch. Moroccans usually eat couscous for lunch on Fridays. Thus when it was time to eat, around 2:30 p.m., one of the daughters in the family brought out a large tajine filled with couscous. The word "tajine" refers either to the stew-like culinary creation bearing that name, or to the actual clay pottery in which either the tajine stew, or, instead in this particular case, couscous, is served. To keep the meal warm, the high, pointed clay pottery tajine lid is kept on top of the tajine dish until the meal is served. In the large tajine dish which was about 18 inches wide, on this particular day the couscous was topped with well-cooked carrot and pumpkin.

When she brought the couscous, she brought a few spoons for us to use in eating the couscous directly out of the communal tajine dish. Her sister, however, as usual, ate the couscous without a spoon, as some Moroccans do. She gathered some couscous from the tajine dish and rolled it into a ball in her hand and brought it to her mouth in her hand.

After we had finished with the couscous, we had some muskmelon for dessert, which I always enjoy. I find the muskmelon quite refreshing during warm weather such as we're having in the Sahara now.

As I rapidly approach my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date, which, at this point, is now less than a month away, I'm beginning to note in a fresher, almost urgent kind of way, what I have been appreciating during my time here in Morocco. I certainly include the hospitality I've experienced here, including at lunch last Friday, amongst the aspects of my experience here for which I've been most grateful to God.

Twilight: My Two-Year Anniversary In Morocco

Today is my two-year anniversary of my arrival here in Morocco. I arrived in Morocco as a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) on September 15, 2010. My COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date is less than a month away. Thus I am in the twilight of my Peace Corps service. People have been asking me how I feel about my Peace Corps service, now that it is about to end. I feel pretty good.

When I started applying to the Peace Corps, initially in 2008, at that point already for at least a dozen years I'd already wanted to be in the Peace Corps. I wanted to live in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa. I'd always envisioned my Peace Corps service being in the Sahara. I'd been wanting to live somewhere where I'd be speaking a foreign language. I'd already been wanting to teach for well over a dozen years. And it had long been important to me to help impoverished persons, as the Bible instructs. Thus, I supposed that teaching English classes in the Peace Corps would be a fine way to do all of these things.

Indeed, I've enjoyed teaching English, and I've enjoyed doing the other work I've done here in Morocco as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer). While teaching, I've mostly taught English, though I've also taught lessons about geography, health and the environment during my service. During the process of teaching here, I've learned how to teach better, learning for which I have been grateful.

I've come to see how, just as the Peace Corps encourages PCVs to conceptualize, teaching English can be a vehicle, a means, to other, more significant, ends. I've taught English as a means of addressing gender issues and as a way of leading youths to develop further their logical reasoning and critical thinking abilities.

While teaching English, I've sought to catalyze boys to consider their responsibility to respect the human rights of girls and women. I've tried to spur them to evaluate how they may support women and girls and promote their human rights by the seemingly mundane choices they make in what seem to be their everyday, routine lives. As I've taught English, I've sought to empower girls by encouraging them in the classroom. I've had them consider their own perceptions of themselves, and I've suggested to boys that they be more conscious of how they perceive girls.

I've introduced logical reasoning and critical thinking elements into English lessons to suggest to youths that they might want to question their own assumptions. I've tried to help them to be more objective. I've hoped that perhaps they've expanded their minds. I've hoped that in taking these reasoning approaches, they've realized things about themselves and their world.

In addition to this work I've done, I've made new friends. I've established connections here, both with Moroccans and with other PCVs, which I value.

However, I can't help but think that I might have benefited more than the students and others I've taught and tutored here. I feel that I have gained enormously during my time here in terms of my own personal journey.

On a relatively superficial level, I have indeed been living in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa, and even more specifically in the Sahara, as I had wanted to do for so long. I've admired some beautiful landscape in this country, and while I've been here in town, I've often enjoyed taking walks in a calm, serene palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees which stretches through this town where I've been living.

But more deeply, while I've lived here in Morocco, I have enjoyed a simple lifestyle. I haven't missed the money and property I had back in the states. Indeed, as I've neared my COS date, and have come to shed more and more property, I've been yearning to jettison more and more physical possessions from my life.

I've greatly enjoyed the solitude I've had here. I've used it to read the entire Bible and re-read a significant portion of it. I've used my free time, with its peace and quiet, to pray and meditate, and to study the Word of God.

I've been very grateful to God for the spiritual community I've experienced with other expat Christians here in Morocco. I've cherished the opportunities I've had to worship God and celebrate God's many blessings with them. I've come to appreciate much more the ability to go to church, since, while I've been living here in Morocco, I've not always been in a location here where there is a church.

As a PCV, I've been grateful for the camaraderie and support I've experienced with and from my fellow PCVs. I've also been glad to live in this community where I've been living here in the Sahara. I've felt satisfaction and fulfillment in serving the community here, teaching and doing other work while I've lived here.

While serving here, I've often felt challenged by this culture. I haven't felt like my personality meshes well with Moroccan culture. Indeed, I've often thought that, in placing me here, the Peace Corps was doing something akin to trying to mix oil and water. However, in experiencing the challenges I've encountered here, I've realized that such difficulties present opportunities to grow and to learn, not just about another culture and the people who are native to it, but also to learn about oneself.

I've experienced the most emotionally challenging period in my life during my Peace Corps service, largely as I struggled to deal with culture shock and adjusted to life in a culture significantly different than in the culture in which I had been accustomed to living previously during all of my life. In grappling with these circumstances, I've been reminded of how Francis Collins, in his book "The Language Of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence For Belief," muses, "Hard though it is to accept, a complete absence of suffering may not be in the best interest of our spiritual growth." Indeed, one would do well to ponder the question, Do we learn more from a comfortable situation, or from trying circumstances?

Ultimately such metamorphosis, painful and unpleasant though it has often been, due to its attendant growth and learning, has been one of the more profound reasons why I have valued my time here so much. Learning, growing, becoming more than one had been, while serving and giving to others, this is part of the meaning of life.

Thus when circumstances not only seem less than ideal, when not only do we not get what we desire, but events are additionally incredibly trying and stressful, and seem to stretch us to our limits, something better, something more, something deeply and wonderfully transformative lies waiting for us on the other side, as described in Hebrews 11:39-40:

These were all commended for their faith,
yet none of them received what had been promised,
since God had planned something better for us
so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Squeaky Wheel Gets The Grease

Yesterday my Regional Manager, who is a Peace Corps staff member, came to my site, that is, the town in which I live down here in the Sahara. She was here to do a site visit for my site mate David, the other PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who also lives here in town. She also visited the site of another my fellow PCVs, Ariana, who lives in a village about five kilometers south of here. She came here to help each of them as they adjust to living in their sites.

My fellow PCV in the nearby village called me and let me know that our Regional Manager would be driving her up here into town. I went and met them at the post office, since I have been holding the key to the post office box which I have been sharing with each of these two other nearby PCVs. I retrieved the envelope from the post office box which had arrived for my fellow PCV.

Then our Regional Manager went with us to the electricity company office. My fellow PCV still hasn't received an electricity bill, even though she's been living in her apartment for a few months. I also asked the electricity company employee behind the counter when the bills would be delivered since I hadn't yet received one, and since usually I have already received one by this point in the month. The electricity company told us that the electricity bills would be delivered soon. He asked me where I lived here in town, trying to confirm his belief about where I lived. I confirmed his perception of where I lived.

Today I received my electricity bill under my door. I didn't intend to try to get my bill delivered more quickly, but I suspect that it might have arrived more quickly because I was in the office and asked when it would be arriving!

A Bus Ride In Morocco

Recently on my way back to the town where I live here in the Sahara, I was trying to catch a bus south from Marrakech. I went to the CTM bus station, but found that both of the CTM buses out of Marrakech which would be headed down here were already full. I walked to the SupraTours bus station, but soon learned that the SupraTours bus south to the Sahara was also full. Accordingly, I went to the main bus station there in Marrakech, where I was able to get on a bus back south. At the main bus station, one catches buses less fancy than CTM buses and SupraTours buses. The buses are older and generally less comfortable. PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) refer to these buses as "souq buses," because the driver will let you off wherever you like; thus you can take these buses to the souq, or the farmer's market, whereas CTM buses and SupraTours buses generally won't make special stops for you such as at the farmer's market. 

Once I'd gotten my bus ticket, I found my bus and boarded it. When I ride buses here in Morocco, if I can, I always sit in the row furthest back. On the route I travel south from Marrakech back to the town where I live here in the Sahara, the buses go through the High Atlas mountains, and over the Tichka Pass. The buses make many turns on this curvy route. Consequently many people get motion sickness and become nauseous and end up vomiting. Given that I both don't get motion sickness, and given that I also don't want anyone sitting behind me potentially vomiting on me, I always sit in the row furthest back if there's an empty seat there for me. Thus on this particular day, I was sitting all the way in the back of the bus. Admittedly the spot where I was sitting didn't look that comfortable. Thus the Moroccan man sitting across the aisle from me asked me if I was sitting in a good seat. I replied in Darija, that is, in Moroccan Arabic, that it wasn't a good seat, but that I was a little insane. One is always likely to elicit a laugh if one insinuates that one is crazy. Accordingly, the man laughed, and, as people here do when they think that someone has made a good joke, he shook my hand.

Soon after we had this laugh, we were visited by some folks on the bus who did not end up traveling with us. Moroccans who are not traveling walk onto these less fancy buses and peddle different things, most commonly bottles of water, snacks, shoes and jewelry. Moroccans also walk onto the buses asking for alms. After I'd boarded this bus, there was quite a while until we were going to leave. Thus multiple people boarded the bus trying to sell their various items.

At one point the Moroccan man sitting across the aisle from me was surrounded by four kids, seemingly about eight to twelve years old. They were trying to sell him different things, which I believe included water and gum. Noting the little gathering around him, I suggested to him in Darija, "It's a little market here on the bus." Later, after the kids had left, I joked with him that if someone has to go shopping, he or she doesn't have to go to a hanoot, which is Darija for "grocery store." Rather, all someone has to do is board a souq bus and sit there for a little while before it leaves, and someone can do all of his or her shopping there on the bus. Of course, I exaggerate. One can't buy anything and everything from the folks who board trying to peddle their goods. For example, after my comment that being aboard a souq bus just before it leaves is like being at the market, that fellow sitting across the aisle from me noted that no one had come aboard the bus trying to sell vegetables.

And indeed, people are limited in how many different types of things they can sell on the buses partly due to time constraints. After a while, we were off on our way south from Marrakech and on to the High Atlas mountains. When we were passing through some of the highest spots on that road, I was pleased to yet again spot a waterfall, despite it being so long since the winter, thus with presumably less melting snow to feed a waterfall. Thus I was happy that day not only to get in some good laughs, sharing some humor with one of my fellow passengers, but I was also glad to get to enjoy some natural beauty on my way back south to the Sahara.

Some Tasty Treats

During my recent travels, I was happy to get to enjoy some b'ghrir, as well as milwi, which is also known as missimen. B'ghrir and milwi are a couple of tasty treats often enjoyed at breakfast here in Morocco. B'ghrir is like a small, round pancake with a light, spongy texture which contains a lot of little holes in it. Milwi, or missimen, is also flat, but is flakier and heavier than b'ghrir. Milwi is cooked in roughly square shapes with rounded edges. Moroccans sometimes eat b'ghrir and milwi plain, with no toppings of any kind. But sometimes they eat b'ghrir and milwi with honey or jam, which is how I prefer to eat milwi and b'ghrir, unless I'm eating the savory kind of milwi, which I prefer to eat plain. When I've eaten the savory kind of milwi, it has seemed to have tiny pieces of vegetables woven into it.

While I often see folks cooking b'ghrir and milwi at shops on the street, that is, at shops with grills actually on the sidewalk, I tend to avoid street food. Invariably I develop some sort of digestive difficulties if and when I eat street food. Given that I thus often pass up opportunities to eat b'ghrir and milwi, I was happy to get to eat some b'ghrir and milwi in the last couple of weeks. When I was in Rabat for my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) Conference, the hotel served b'ghrir and milwi for breakfast on certain mornings. More recently, when I was in Marrakech, I happily enjoyed some savory milwi at a rather nice bakery there.

When I was in Rabat, I also picked up some amlou, which is essentially Moroccan organic peanut butter. While I've found amlou here in the town where I live down here in the Sahara, I haven't bought any here in town. While I want to support smaller, more local vendors whenever I can, here in town I only found amlou which is bottled in used plastic water bottles. I'd wondered how many people had drank out of the bottle before the amlou had been added to the bottle. I'd also imagined that a lot of plastic might have leeched out of the bottle. I do think it's great that Moroccans reuse plastic bottles, but I also suspect that they might use them too long, considering health concerns. Anyway, when I was in Rabat, I bought some amlou in jars in a supermarket. I've been enjoying it on what are essentially peanut butter and jam sandwiches. On some bread I spread some amlou, then add some Aicha brand jam, which is my favorite jam here in Morocco, I believe since it contains pectin, which I think helps the jam hold together well and have a firm consistency.

As I rapidly approach my COS date, which, at this point, is less than one month away, I'm continuing to enjoy some tasty treats here. I've been thankful to God that I've been able to enjoy some tasty treats while I've been living here in Morocco!

Listening

A group of other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I just finished a couple of days of training. Another PCV and I trained a half dozen other PCVs to listen empathetically and to otherwise practice active listening skills. Here in Morocco, as in other countries where PCVs serve, there's a VSN (Volunteer Support Network) in place, which supplies VSN peer counselors, who are also PCVs, who listen to fellow PCVs who need to talk to someone about their problems. Insofar as the other trainer and I had already been trained as VSN peer counselors, we trained the half dozen PCVs who swore in as PCVs a few months ago.

We spent some time with our trainees discussing the counseling relationship and what it looks like. Thus we talked about how a VSN counselor is different from a friend. A friend might talk about himself or herself, whereas a VSN counselor focuses on the person asking for a listening ear. A friend might also criticize or rebuke another friend.

We also reviewed the importance of building rapport with the person who contacts the VSN counselor. It's important to establish trust so the person is comfortable sharing.

We also talked about helping the person to identify his or her emotions. Insofar as VSN counselors listen non-judgmentally, the VSN counselor doesn't tell the person what he or she is feeling. Rather, the VSN counselor tries to empathize with him or her and checks if he or she has correctly grasped what he or she is feeling. So, a VSN counselor might venture, "It sounds like you're feeling frustrated," or "It seems like you're irritated by this situation." We also reviewed various techniques for making sure that we correctly understand the people who are speaking to us about their problems. Thus we went over clarifying, paraphrasing, and checking our perceptions of what he or she is saying to us.

We also discussed how a VSN counselor can help someone develop a plan of action. But again, rather than telling him or her what to do, we described how a VSN counselor can ask someone how he or she feels about pursuing certain choices of action, and what the pros and cons of various courses of action might be. We talked about how we can ask him or her what the ramifications of certain courses of action might be.

We also spent time talking about various sources of stress which PCVs, especially those in Morocco, face. We discussed sexual harassment and cultural stress, including tension stemming from religious and political discussions which occur here in Morocco.

During a session on diversity today, once again I was reminded of the diversity amongst PCVs. At various points of my service, I've noted and enjoyed the diversity amongst PCVs here in Morocco, whether it be diversity of ethnicity, race, religion, age, marital status and disability. I've also enjoyed meeting PCVs who hail from many different states in the US, and who have lived abroad in various countries. When PCVs think about benefiting from diversity in the Peace Corps, it seems that often PCVs think of benefiting from the cross-cultural exchange of living in the host country where they're living abroad. However, PCVs also stand to benefit from the diversity they encounter amongst their fellow PCVs.

COS (Completion of Service) Conference

This week I was in Rabat for my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) Conference. Although my COS date, when I'll return to Peace Corps Headquarters in Rabat to officially stop being a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), won't be until next month, Peace Corps holds the COS Conference a little bit before PCVs actually close their service. At the COS Conference, Peace Corps helps PCVs prepare to complete their service.

During the COS Conference this week, Peace Corps held sessions on a variety of topics. We've got tasks to do in multiple areas, and we're processing and reflecting on our experiences in various ways, so this week Peace Corps helped us to get these tasks done and to consider our time here.

Near the beginning of the COS Conference, Peace Corps held a session on medical concerns, during which they gave us an overview of the medical attention we would receive during the COS Conference. During that session, medical staff instructed us about the medical samples we would have to provide during the COS Conference. They also reminded us how our COS physical examinations and dental cleanings would be done, which also occurred this week. They looked ahead and explained how we'll be able to receive medical care once we stop being PCVs, that is, once we're RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers).

During another session, Peace Corps staff gave us printed copies of our aspiration statements, which we had authored before coming here to Morocco. In our aspiration statements, we had written about professional attributes we had planned to use, and the aspirations we had hoped to fulfill, during our Peace Corps service. In these statements, we had also described strategies we had had about working effectively with Moroccans, and strategies for adapting to a new culture. In the aspiration statements, we had also noted skills and knowledge we had hoped to gain during PST (Pre-Service Training). In these statements, we had imagined how our Peace Corps service would influence our personal and professional goals. In re-reading our aspiration statements, we reflected on whence we had come and what we had hoped to do during our Peace Corps service, and where we had arrived through our cultural odyssey here in Morocco, what we had done along the way, and how we got to this point in our service. We considered our accomplishments over the last couple of years in light of what we had hoped to do while here in Morocco.

Peace Corps staff also ran a session on readjusting to life in the US. Some of the staff working for Peace Corps in Morocco have lived for extensive periods, as in a dozen years, in the US. Thus they've been readjusting to life here in Morocco after living in the US for so long. During the session on readjustment, Peace Corps staff shared their experiences, including their frustration they've felt here in Morocco, as they try to readjust to life here in Morocco.

During another session, Peace Corps staff had us PCVs discuss questions which RPCVs are commonly asked once they've finished their Peace Corps service and have moved back to the US. It seems that once RPCVs arrive back in the US, they experience frustration when asked certain types of questions, particularly those which generalize or are otherwise insensitive, so Peace Corps staff tries to prepare PCVs for such questions.

A panel of a half dozen RPCVs spoke to us during one session. Some of them served here in Morocco, but most of them served as PCVs in other countries. They served as PCVs at various points in the past, one as recently as within the last year, and others more than fifteen years ago. They spoke to us about readjusting to life in the US. They also shared their thoughts on what to do after Peace Corps service, which included thoughts on job hunting as well as on graduate school.

We also had a session on services which Peace Corps provides to RPCVs, including once they're back in the US. We learned about help which Peace Corps provides in finding jobs. We also got some pointers on how to describe our Peace Corps service on our resumes.

Peace Corps staff gave us some guidance on writing the DOS (Description Of Service) which every PCV must write about himself or herself. In the DOS, a PCV describes when he or she arrived in his or her country of service, the training he or she received there, where he or she lived during his or her service, and the work he or she did as a PCV in his or her country of service. The DOS goes on file with Peace Corps and is the official record of the PCV's service. Each of us had time during the week of the COS Conference to write a DOS. Thus by the time the COS Conference had ended, each of us was able to e-mail a final draft of our DOS to Peace Corps staff here, who will review it before signing it and making it official.

Peace Corps staff also administered LPIs (Language Proficiency Interviews) during the COS Conference. That is, they tested our proficiency in whatever language we've been speaking for the last two years, whether it has been Darija, which is Moroccan Arabic, or whether it has been one of the Berber languages, which, for PCVs here in Morocco, is either Tashelheit or Tamazight.

During an administrative session, Peace Corps staff listed the numerous tasks we should be sure to complete before our COS dates. They reviewed how we will have to close our bank accounts. They added that we should inform the post office and the gendarmes, who are our local law enforcement officers, as well as our local government officials in the towns in which we live, of our impending departures.

Peace Corps staff also held a session on safety and security matters. We were asked why we thought they were addressing safety and security at this late stage of our service. Perhaps some of us thought that we've been here so long that there's no need for us to discuss safety and security concerns. But I agree with Peace Corps staff that we needed such a session precisely because many of us may have become lax and careless about safety and security here. We've been here so long that we think that we know how things work here. It's possible that at this point, some PCVs have stopped being vigilant and alert, and are thus more at risk to become crime victims. Or if some PCVs have become more and more frustrated over the course of their service, they might lash out against someone and escalate a tense or otherwise dangerous situation, thereby increasing a risk of harm to themselves. Hence I felt that the time was well-spent talking about safety and security concerns.

The Ambassador to Morocco and his spouse visited us during our COS Conference. I was struck by how they spent most of their time with us in asking us questions about Morocco. They wanted to know what we had observed, what we had learned during our Peace Corps service here. I was very impressed that, despite the Ambassador's position of significant stature and authority, that he and his spouse acted with much notable humility in asking us questions, since, in doing so, they showed that they felt that they had something to learn from us.

We also had a session in which we were able to provide programming feedback. Thus, those of us PCVs completing our service in the next couple of months, being Youth Development PCVs and Small Business Development PCVs, provided feedback to Peace Corps staff about how Peace Corps has run its Youth Development and Small Business Development volunteering programs for PCVs. We offered suggestions on how various programming operations could be improved.

Each of us also had a chance to speak with the Country Director of the Peace Corps here in Morocco. During these individual exit interviews, which provided ample time to speak with her, she asked us how we feel about our Peace Corps service as we prepare to COS. She inquired about challenges and successes we've faced here. I was glad not only that she asked us for our feedback, but that she seemed to respond appropriately to different types of feedback. I felt that she was honestly listening and that she would deal appropriately with various matters.

I left the COS Conference feeling fairly well-prepared for what lies ahead in certain ways. I feel well-equipped to handle administrative tasks and other matters I have to handle in the days ahead.

As the week progressed, I was feeling a bit anxious, since there was much to get done in an effort to get things squared away as instructed. As I got more done, I became a bit calmer.

However, I also realized that I was feeling a good deal of separation anxiety this week. Many of us PCVs who are about to complete our service here acknowledged to each other that some of us probably won't ever see each other again. We're all going to actually officially stop being PCVs on different dates, so we won't all be at Peace Corps Headquarters here in Morocco for the last time at the same time. As the time neared for me to leave Rabat, I got to say goodbye to my fellow PCVs. In just getting to say goodbye, I felt better. In saying our farewells, I felt that we had one last chance to connect, that is, to say proper goodbyes, which seemed to help.

And as I move forward, I'm facing a great deal of uncertainty about what is going to come next. While I've been looking forward to discerning what's going to happen next in my life, I'm more curious, eager, and hungry to know, more than concerned. Multiple times while I've been here in Morocco, including this summer, I've revisited Matthew 6:34, with its guidance "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Therefore, I've been increasingly endeavoring to go forward in the faith I have that God is guiding me toward the next steps in my life. As I take each step, the next one subsequently will become clear to me. Thus I feel that I've also been internalizing what I heard a while ago: do not be concerned about tomorrow; God is already there.

Shifting Cultural Norms

As I mentioned in my last blog entry, I've been in Rabat this week. One morning, I was in the lobby of the hotel where I'm staying, waiting for my friend, a fellow PCV, to wrap up some business he had with the front desk. As he was standing at the front desk, he turned to his right and saw a Moroccan woman also standing at the front desk. He smiled at her. She smiled back at him.

It struck me how infrequently I've observed an interaction like that between a man and a Moroccan woman here in Morocco. Keep in mind that on most of the days I've been here in Morocco, I've been in my site, the town in which I live down in the Sahara. There, the vast majority of the time, women walk down the street and generally aren't interacting with men. Thus, they aren't smiling at men in response to men looking at them; indeed, they aren't even returning the gazes of men. After witnessing the exchange between my friend and the Moroccan woman in the hotel lobby here in Rabat, I was enjoying pondering how women here in large cities like Rabat can respond as she did. She's more likely to be seen as responding in an appropriate manner than Moroccan women in more conservative regions of the country would be viewed for such behavior.

Before I came to Morocco, I wouldn't have given much thought to such an interaction between a man and a woman. Of course, during my time here in Morocco, I've operated in a context with cultural norms different than those to which I was accustomed in the US. As I approach my COS (completion of service) date, I've begun to wonder how my experiences during my Peace Corps service are going to affect how I perceive and process interactions between men and women once I've returned to the US.

Women's Rights And Girls' Imaginations

This week I've been in Rabat. I've been enjoying taking the tram around town, as I usually do when I'm here. One day this week right after I got off the tram, as I was walking down the sidewalk, I saw a gendarme, or a law enforcement officer, walking toward me. I enjoyed realizing that a female gendarme was walking toward me. I'm concerned about the status of women, and women's human rights, everywhere, and thus in Morocco. More specifically, I often hope that women continue to advance in many professions here. Thus I'm pleased whenever I see women here employed in professions where one might not always expect to see them working.

I've also gotten enjoyment out of riding the tram in simpler ways. Yesterday when I was on the tram, the conductor was checking to see if passengers had validated their tickets when they had boarded the tram. As he was checking the tickets, a young girl, perhaps five years old, shyly offered the tickets for her mother and herself. The conductor took the tickets. I noticed that he wasn't sliding the bar code on each of those two tickets through his electronic ticket reader. Then I realized that he had probably already checked their tickets, but was nevertheless running the tickets through the reader, honoring the little girl's shy request.

I couldn't help but imagine that in acceding to the little girl's request, and in feeding her imagination, that the tram conductor might have been implicitly and gently encouraging her to imagine much bolder and individualistic dreams for herself. I hope that one day she'll envision herself working in a profession where people might be a bit surprised to see a woman working. More than that, I hope that she'll see a woman working in a career where people might not expect to see a woman working, and that she'll be inspired to boldly define her own identity for herself.

A Marvelous Day

I had a marvelous day today. This morning, I got up early and read the Bible. Then I headed out from the hotel room in Casablanca where I stayed last night. I caught a petit taxi to the Catholic monastery, where I attended Mass at 9:00 a.m. Mexican nuns live in the monastery. Thus, the nun who read one of the Scripture readings spoke in Spanish. However, the parishioner who read the other of the first two Scripture readings spoke in French. The priest spoke in French, so most of the Mass was in French.

Before the Mass had begun, I had been feeling a bit unsettled. Thus I appreciated the nuns' prayers before Mass. By the time Mass had started, I was feeling calmer, more at peace, and more focused on being in the chapel.

After Mass ended, I took a petit taxi to Cathedral Notre Dame de Lourdes for the 11:00 a.m. Mass there. When I arrived, I saw tourists with cameras exiting the church and getting back onto tour buses. Upon entering the church grounds, I discovered a grotto honoring the Virgin Mary. Once I got a better look at the cathedral, I realized that it was quite tall. Yet only upon entering the cathedral did I learn that this cathedral houses an amazing set of stained-glass windows. On both sides of the cathedral is stained glass, continuously stretching, uninterrupted, from the rear of the cathedral all the way to its front, depicting God, angels and believers. Above these scenes depicted on the stained glass, many long thin shafts of stained glass stretched up to the high ceiling. It was certainly fine and beautiful artwork.

In addition to the magnificent stained glass, I once again enjoyed the song during Mass today. I enjoyed how, in the absence of a choir at the cathedral, before Mass had begun, a young woman was leading all of the congregants in practicing the song of the day. It made the experience of attending Mass seem even more communal than it normally already feels. I get so much support and nourishment out of attending Mass, especially here in Morocco, where I am not in the physical presence of other Christians on a regular basis. I'm grateful for the presence of other Christians, who share my faith and encourage me in it. I have much for which I am thankful, and that certainly includes them.

Explaining My Beliefs

As I mentioned in my last blog entry, a couple of days ago, my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Samantha came here to the town where I live to pick up some things which I've been trying to unload. After she had collected what she was inheriting from me, I walked with her to the bus station.

After she had gotten on the bus, a man started speaking with me in Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic. He asked me if I was taking the bus too. After I told him I wasn't going to be taking the bus, we started talking about traveling in Morocco. He asked me where I've been in Morocco. I said I'd been to Agadir and Sidi Ifni. I didn't get to mention anywhere else. When I said I'd been to Sidi Ifni, he said he's from there, and the topic of conversation shifted to that town.

After that, he asked me if I had fasted during Ramadan. I told him that I wasn't fasting during Ramadan. He asked me if I'm Muslim. I told him that I'm not Muslim, that I'm Christian. He asked me if I'm going to become Muslim. I told him that I'm not going to become Muslim because it's so important to me to try to live as Jesus lived. He replied that Jesus is in Islam. I then explained that Jesus' place in Islam isn't the same as it is in Christianity. I explained that Islam states that Jesus didn't die on the cross, whereas Christianity relates how Jesus did die on the cross. We didn't have more time to take the conversation further than that, because he was getting on the bus, which was about to leave.

However, it's pretty clear to me that here is a major difference between Islam and Christianity. After all, if someone merely says he's willing to die for you, but doesn't actually die for you, that's clearly, significantly different than if that person actually does die for you.

Unexpected Difficulty In Observing Cultural Norms

When the Peace Corps recruiter interviewed me nearly three years ago, he asked me whether I was willing to change my behavior, whether I was willing to adapt to the cultural norms where I would be living in a host country. In many ways, certainly I regularly act differently here in Morocco than how I act back in the U.S.

While I've been here in Morocco, I've changed how I interact with members of the opposite gender. Here in Morocco, Moroccans, especially those living in rural areas, including the town where I live down here in the Sahara, expect that men and women keep a significant distance from each other if they aren't married or related to each other. More specifically, it's not acceptable to host an adult of the opposite gender overnight in one's home.

Quite contrary to my natural inclinations to be hospitable and host visitors in my home, more than once I've told female PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) that they can't stay overnight at my home here in this town. I would love to welcome female PCVs to stay overnight at my place, but such hospitality would be poorly perceived by the community here. If a male PCV and a female PCV both come into town, then circumstances change. It's easier to explain, and thus to host, a group of people overnight than just one person of the opposite gender.

However, this week unfortunately my friend Samantha, a female PCV, came into town by herself after a long journey. She was tired, so I felt bad about having to send her quickly on her way. She had enough time to pick up the items from my home which I've been wanting to unload, including some spice containers, in anticipation of when I close my Peace Corps service soon.

So, as I've already said, I've altered my behavior while I've been living here in Morocco. I just didn't expect to have to change my behavior in ways which make me feel less hospitable!

Horse-Drawn Carriage

On my way back to the town where I live down here in the Sahara, I went with some of my friends, Chadwick, Tirzah and Emily, to the coastal city of Essaouira. I was happy to be there. I got to see some friends I hadn't seen in the last several weeks. Essaouira is on the coast, so generally it was cool during my visit there.

While it's often cool there, in the middle of the day it can get a little hot, particularly if one is in the sun. So I was happy to agree when one of my friends suggested catching a ride in one of the horse-drawn carriages which transport people there in Essaouira. As far as I can remember, here in Morocco I've only seen horse-drawn carriages in Marrakech and Essaouira. And I'd never previously rode in one in Morocco, so I was glad he suggested it.

Especially since I live in a rural area, I see donkeys transporting people more often than horses. However, I haven't seen any donkey-drawn carriages anywhere in Morocco. Down here in the desert, I see people using donkeys to transport carts of various items, including food, metal, lumber, concrete blocks and other building materials. It's always interesting to note the differences amongst various regions when I travel here in Morocco, including means of transport.

Buy Local

After summer camp, I came back to the town where I live down here in the Sahara. For part of my return trip, I traveled with some friends, Chadwick, Tirzah and Emily, who are some fellow PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers), on a bus. At one point the bus made a pit stop for about an hour. My friends and I figured that we might as well eat while we were there. After we'd eaten our meal there, I wanted to get something sweet for dessert, so I bought some cold milk at a hanoot (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "small grocery store"), then walked to another hanoot to buy something sweet. Upon arriving at the second hanoot, I saw some large chocolate bars on the counter. I didn't recognize the brand name, so I picked up one of them, and saw on the back of it that it had been made in Morocco.

I'd been wanting to have some of this particular kind of Moroccan chocolate, but hadn't been seeing it while I'd been shopping over the last couple of years here. So I grabbed the bar of Moroccan chocolate so I could buy it. The man sitting at the back of the hanoot saw me pick up the large bar of Moroccan chocolate. He picked up a large bar of the Spanish chocolate which I see so often here in Morocco and brought it to me. It looks very similar to the Moroccan chocolate bar; both are big bars in red packages with white lettering. Consequently I could see how, from the other side of the hanoot, he might think that I wanted to buy a bar of the Spanish chocolate. But once he'd gotten to the counter, it struck me how he didn't comment that I should indeed buy the Moroccan chocolate. Since he's Moroccan, I would've expected him to urge me to buy the Moroccan product.

Summer Camp 2012 Part Two

For the last ten days or so, I worked at a summer camp in northern Morocco. Moroccan kids ended their school year in June, so they've been going to camps to learn English and do extracurricular activities, sometimes in their own towns, and sometimes far from where they live. At this particular summer camp where I was, the vast majority of the kids did not live in the area where the camp was held. The kids who attended this summer camp, who were in their early and intermediate teenage years, traveled from various parts of Morocco to attend this particular Summer Camp. They stayed overnight at the camp for the full duration of the camp, roughly ten days.

At this specific Summer Camp location, we were both north of the town where I live in the Sahara, and we were on the coast, so it wasn't hot at our Summer Camp location. I was glad that I was rarely sweating during this Summer Camp, given how hot it has been in the town where I live in the Sahara. In addition to it not being as hot as it has been where I live in the Sahara, I was also happy whenever we got a cool ocean breeze there at camp.

At this specific Summer Camp, we were working in a city. Taxis run on and near the street on which the camp was located, and grocery stores are within a block.

The Moroccan Ministry of Youth and Sport runs this particular Summer Camp, just like it runs Spring Camp. PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) help to conduct activities at Summer Camp, just like at Spring Camp. PCVs serving in various regions of Morocco worked at this particular Summer Camp. As PCVs, we slept at the same facility as the campers. However, we slept in a different building from the campers.

On the day that our Summer Camp started, I was one of the PCVs conducting LPIs (language proficiency interviews) in English of the campers who were arriving at camp that day. I began to interview some campers who, I quickly learned, did not know much English.

Once we had the results of the LPIs, the two PCVs (one first-year PCV and a second-year PCV) who were coordinating our activities as PCVs at the camp, divided up the students into six levels of English classes according to their ability to speak English. About half of us PCVs then taught English for the next six days of camp.

During the time slot for English class on the last full day of the camp, we PCVs held an English Olympiad in which the campers participated. We PCVs ran stations at which we quizzed campers on what had been taught during the English classes.

During all of this Summer Camp, we operated under an altered schedule because all of the days of this camp fell during Ramadan. Many campers and Moroccan staff were fasting, so that they were not eating or drinking between sunrise and sunset. As a result, we started our days at camp during Ramadan at around 12 noon. Breakfast and lunch were not served.

After teaching the students English from 12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m., the campers had time to read in the library. We PCVs listened to the campers as they told us about the books they had read.

In addition to teaching English, as PCVs, we were also trying to monitor and direct the campers' behavior by assigning them to five different teams named after foreign countries. We assigned the campers to Teams Australia, Brazil, Brunei, Czech Republic, Djibouti, and Indonesia. Campers lost and won points for their teams based on whether they behaved well or poorly. Campers lost points for their team if they threw trash on the ground, fought with each other, and otherwise disruptively behaved. Campers won points for their teams if they picked up trash, correctly answered questions in class, read a book and summarized it for us, and otherwise constructively behaved. Campers had one such opportunity to earn points in the afternoon, during library time, when they sat and read books in the library and then summarized them for us, sometimes orally, and sometimes in writing; sometimes in Arabic, and sometimes in English.

In the afternoons, after library time, we PCVs met with the campers assigned to their country teams. We educated them a little about the countries after which their teams were named. We also ran arts and crafts projects during this team time in the afternoons. We made masks with the campers one day during team time. On another day, we made pinatas with the campers during team time.

In the late afternoon, Moroccan staff ran activities for the kids. Sometimes they ran sports activities with the kids. On another day, they took the campers swimming. On another day, they took the kids to the nearby beach, which is on the Atlantic coast. I was very impressed with the Moroccan staff at this camp, who worked with great attention to the proper behavior of the campers.

At around 7:30pm, when those fasting broke fast, all of us ate together in the dining room at the facility where we were all staying. This meal, "ftur," in Darija, consisted of harira, which is a Moroccan soup containing chickpeas and lentils and noodles, dates, "helwa shbakiya," which is Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for a specific Moroccan sweet served during Ramadan, hard-boiled eggs, orange juice, tea, coffee, milk, bread and jam.

After ftur, about half of us PCVs ran clubs for the campers. I ran a creative writing club for some of the campers who speak at a more advanced level of English. While I was calling it a creative writing club, it probably should have been called a critical thinking club, since I was primarily trying to get the campers in this club to analyze and think critically about different scenarios.

Partly I got the kids in this club to imagine, compare and evaluate different explanations for the same event. For example, on the first day on which this club met, I mentioned to these campers the idea of an apple falling and hitting someone on the head. I asked why the apple might have fallen from the tree. Then I suggested a few different explanations. It fell out of the tree because the branch broke since it's old. His sister threw it at him. He threw it in the air and didn't catch it. A bird broke the apple off of the tree. I gave them another theoretical scenario and suggested more potential explanations. Then I gave them a third scenario but told them to think of, and write about, possible explanations for what had happened in the hypothetical situation.

Later during the week I had the kids in this club consider hypothetical situations which led them to consider how they should treat others. We talked about how youths perceive and should treat their peers who are different from them. We also addressed a variety of other questions, including the importance of listening to others.

After club time, we PCVs and the Moroccan staff ran late evening activities for the campers. One night, the kids competed in a trivia competition. On another night, we PCVs ran Halloween-themed activities for the kids, including a haunted house, face painting, and pin-the-nose-on-the-pumpkin. On a couple of other nights, the kids performed in talent shows. Typically the kids danced and sang in the talent shows.

A little after midnight, we ate a meal just before turning in for the night which closely resembles what one eats for lunch here in Morocco, namely a variety of cold vegetables, including cucumber, beets, and carrots, and a stew of either beef or chicken with some bread, with a piece of fruit for dessert. When the kitchen staff served us this midnight meal, they also gave us bags containing yogurt, cookies, and fruit, all of which was for those fasting to eat just before dawn.

I feel that I should state here that I am not fasting during Ramadan because I don't want people to think I'm Muslim. I don't want people to think I'm considering becoming a Muslim. And I don't want to implicitly encourage others to be Muslim; if I were to fast during Ramadan, probably at least some, if not all, people would think that I'm Muslim, and that I want others to be Muslim. I do not want any of these things to happen, for many reasons.

Among these reasons is one which was expressed to the founder of Islam by one of his wives. He claimed to have had a revelation that one could marry two wives, after which he married a second wife; he then claimed to have had a revelation that one could marry a third wife, after which he married a third wife; then he claimed to have had a revelation that one could marry a fourth wife, after which he married a fourth wife. One of his wives thus criticized him for conveniently delivering prophecies by which he benefited.

The founder of Islam also looked at his adopted son's wife; his adopted son then divorced his wife; the founder of Islam then married his adopted son's former wife. I'm extremely disinclined to follow the suggestions of the founder of Islam for these reasons and for many other reasons. Although as a Christian I believe in God, for the reasons above as well as for other reasons, I don't want people to think I'm Muslim, I don't want people to think I'm considering becoming Muslim, and I don't want to implicitly encourage others to become Muslim. For these reasons, I am not fasting during Ramadan.

Enter

Today I returned to the Catholic church here in the city on the coast where I've been working with other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) for the last ten days or so. When I'd been there this past weekend, I'd learned that there was going to be Mass celebrated there today in honor of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. So I made sure to get up early enough this morning to walk to the church for Mass. Once I had nearly arrived at the church, as I was walking down the block on which the church was located, I heard the choir practicing their song, which came at least partially from the Congo. In retrospect, I considered that it was as if their song was like an invitation into the church, to enter and worship.

After Mass, the congregants gathered in the church building for refreshments, including coffee, soda, croissants and cookies. I joined in for their fellowship and conversation with them. I spoke with some Kenyan, French and Italian folks who were very friendly. I was also happy that I found out the national origin of some of the other parishioners. Some of them came from the Ivory Coast, Guinea-Bissau, Togo, Benin, and Cameroon. I was glad that I got to speak with at least some of them at least a little bit, partly because I'd enjoyed their singing so much, and because I felt that in a way, they invited me in, encouraged me as fellow Christians in my faith in God, and welcomed me into the church.

Accepting Transformation

When the Peace Corps recruiter interviewed me nearly three years ago, he asked me many discerning questions about whether I'd be able to cope with life in a country served by the Peace Corps. Amongst his questions, he asked me how I'd feel about not being able to attend religious services of my faith. I replied that I'd prefer not to be in such a situation, but that I would do it if invited to a post in the Peace Corps where I wouldn't be able to attend services. It's important to me to attend church services as a Christian.

As it turned out, I was invited to serve here in Morocco, where relatively few people are Christian. While some PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) live in sites with churches, I live in a town here in Morocco where there's no church. However, I live about an hour from a church, so I've attended Mass there. More often in that city, I've attended Bible study sessions with other expats there.

When I travel, I attend Mass in the various cities I visit. For the past ten days or so, I've been working with other PCVs in a city on the coast here in Morocco. On Sunday morning, a few other PCVs and I attended Mass at the Catholic church here in this city. As usual, the service was in French. I understood a bit more of the service, including the sermon, than I usually do, perhaps because the priest was speaking more slowly. My fellow volunteers and I also appreciated the large mural behind the altar, which seemed to include a representation of Adam and Eve and the serpent, and various parts of creation, including the globe and many animals, especially fishes of the sea. We also got treated to some of the glorious sub-Saharan African song which is often heard in churches here in Morocco. It truly felt like a blessing to attend Mass there, as it always is to attend Mass here in Morocco.

I've pondered that while being unable to attend Mass while serving in the Peace Corps seemed daunting when I was applying to the Peace Corps, there was an opportunity for spiritual growth even in simply being willing to serve without being able to attend Mass. When one accepts the challenge, one transforms oneself. And sometimes perhaps God just wants to see us exhibit that willingness. Maybe once we've shown that we're willing to make the sacrifice, as Abraham showed, then perhaps God has seen enough and doesn't always demand the extreme sacrifice which we had initially anticipated. And if we are called to make that full sacrifice, the sacrifice that we're called to make doesn't end up being that intimidating, because we've transformed our outlook. It's no longer burdensome, but liberating. It's no longer a tiresome chore, nor a heavy task, but a wonderful expression of love, and joyous service. As we realize that we are one with our experience, which defines us, our choices fill out our personality, and complete our Identity.