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.

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.

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.

How I Recently Felt Great About My Language Skills

I've been living here in Morocco for over a year now. I haven't had anyone from the US visit me here yet, though that is about to change. Even though I haven't yet had anyone from the states visit me here in Morocco, I have already hosted visitors to my town. Usually they have been fellow PCVs.

Last week, I was presented with a different kind of opportunity. As I was returning south to my town down here in the Sahara, I caught a bus in Marrakech. Soon after I sat down on the bus, I started speaking with a young man from the US and a young woman from Belgium who were sitting across the aisle from me. When they got off the bus later in the day, I told them to contact me if they decided to visit my town.

Later in the week, they called me and arrived here in my town. I took them on a walk through the palmerie, the huge grove of palm trees which extends as far as the eye can see. I brought them to the tops of some hills from which we enjoyed beautiful vistas, of the palmerie, the mountains, and the town. While I was showing them the town and the landscape, we ran into various people I know here. My new friends witnessed Moroccan friendliness and, indeed, hospitality, as we were invited to share tea. At my host family's home, in addition to tea, we also enjoyed cookies and peanuts. A little later, we dined with them. Since it was Friday, my host family served couscous topped with zucchini and other vegetables for lunch, as couscous is the typical Friday lunchtime meal here in Morocco.

Given that my new friends don't speak any Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic, I was translating everything for them. Having reached a plateau in my learning of Darija more than half a year ago, at times I have felt as though my Darija skills could be better than they are. However, during my friends' visit here in my town, I felt pretty good about my abilities in Darija, since I had to translate everything for them. It reminded me of how far I've progressed in Darija since I arrived in Morocco over a year ago.

As with evaluating one's own language abilities, often in other ways in life, it can be easy to focus on what you'd like to be doing, but aren't doing, perhaps because you're not as skilled as you'd like to be. But I think it's much better to focus on, and remind yourself, of what you are capable of doing, rather than become discouraged because of what it seems that you cannot presently do. Remind yourself how far you've come. And where you're headed. And how to get there: by having faith, by loving yourself as God loves you, reminding yourself from where you derive your strength, and by calling upon that source of your strength.

Early Termination

Last week, the other PCV who had been living here in my town decided to ET (early terminate), that is, he decided to stop being a PCV early, and return to the USA. During the few days between when he decided on early termination of service and when he left town, when speaking with me and also with others, he most frequently cited his relatively poor language skills as why he decided to ET. I suppose that I will admit that his Darija, that is, his Moroccan Arabic, wasn't the best I've encountered in other PCVs.

However, there are a variety of ways in which one can be effective as a PCV. Here in Morocco, enough kids, teachers and other community members know enough English that one can help a good number of Moroccans using English. One can also do work in the community which involves little or no speaking. Given these options, in combination with what he told me about himself, I was reminded of the maxim that to be capable of attaining things, one must believe that one is capable of attaining them. One must have hope, faith and confidence. Without those qualities, whatever one tries to do becomes that much more difficult.

Having said all of this, I must say that I am not in a position to judge his decision. While I would have preferred that he stay here, I'm just simply not positioned to assess even whether his decision was the correct one. He makes his own decisions. Furthermore, I don't know what God has in mind for him. He may be back in the USA now to help fulfill an important purpose there.

Prioritizing

Last weekend, I went to the city that's about an hour away from my town. I had very much wanted to return there for Bible study with the group of Christians I had met there earlier this year.

Before last weekend, I had had the idea in my head that if I was going to go to the city, I had to stay overnight there for at least one, if not two, nights, to make the trip worthwhile. Last week, I realized that I could take a bus or a grand taxi there on Sunday morning, and take a bus or taxi back here to my town on Sunday afternoon.

Essentially I realized that I had to prioritize. It's not a priority to have a weekend outside of my town. In fact, one of my priorities is to make sure I don't spend too much time outside of my town.

I concluded that by going there for just part of one day, I'm focusing on what's most important, tending to my spiritual health and well-being. I spend time doing what's most important, while at the same time not spending a night outside my community. Taking care of everything, while being sure to do what's most important.

So, last weekend, I went into the city just for the day. That day, I felt, as I do now feel, supported and encouraged in my faith by the other Christians there; I'm very thankful to have the spiritual community I have with them. After the Bible study session, we had a potluck barbeque lunch there in one of their houses. In the meal, I especially appreciated the barbequed chicken, the barbequed sausages, and the potato salad. All of the desserts were great; we had German chocolate cake for the birthday of one of the women there in the group; we also had chocolate brownies, which were enjoyably gooey; and we also had some yummy peanut butter brownies with chocolate chips in them.

After the barbeque, I headed back here to my town. I was sad to be leaving them after having had such a good time. At the same time, I'm glad that they're so nearby.

Funkytown, Or, A Sort of Mid-Service Crisis

For most of September, and a good part of October, I was in a funk, a trough to which I returned more than once; I was going through a series of rough patches during this period. I was feeling down, a bit challenged.

When Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) are about midway through their Peace Corps service, they often go through what has been called a "mid-service crisis." Midway through, PCVs ask themselves whether they're really making a difference, sometimes doubt the effectiveness of the Peace Corps, bemoan their lack of progress in learning a new language, and just generally question whether they should be in their host country at all.

I don't think that I really experienced what I would call a mid-service crisis. I asked myself some questions similar to the ones I've described here. But in the last couple of months, I never posed questions as fundamental about my Peace Corps service as some of the more serious ones I've listed here. Nor did I feel as low as I suspect some other PCVs have when they were about halfway through their service.

Nevertheless, I don't discount the possibility that I was feeling low because I'm nearly halfway through my service as a PCV. Speaking recently with my immediate family members on the phone, my sister-in-law reminded me that it's natural and common to question, re-evaluate and re-assess one's position when halfway through any particular endeavor. From doing so, one can benefit from the insight and perspective one potentially gains by devoting one's time and attention to where one came from, currently is, and is heading. I can't claim to have any particular insights from reflecting on my recent trough. However, it's at least my intention right now to re-evaluate my service as a PCV. At this point, I am now more than halfway through my time in Morocco (combining my PST, or Pre-Service Training, with my service as a PCV). I am now also nearly halfway through my service as a PCV.

So, to get more specific about how I've felt from time to time in the last month and a half... among other things, I've been challenged by dealing with a lack of work. For the entire summer, except for the ten days or so that I was at Summer Camp, I've had little, if any, work to do. The Dar Chebab, or youth center, where I do most of my volunteering, was closed for much of the summer. Since it re-opened, little by little, more kids have started coming to the Dar Chebab. I've gradually been starting to work more and more.

I've also felt resigned to understanding Darija, and speaking in Darija, at the level I had reached earlier this year, in the Spring. At that point, more than a few months ago, I hit a plateau in learning Darija, which is Moroccan Arabic, and which is the language I speak the most here in Morocco. After progressing in learning Darija for at least half of a year, I felt like I was no longer improving in my ability to speak and understand Darija.

At times I've felt homesick for family and friends in the USA, and just the life and culture there. I miss my family and friends there. And the culture in the USA is the one to which I am the most accustomed.

Given that I'm most comfortable in the culture of the USA, at times I feel challenged here in Morocco. While I've learned how to live here, and have adjusted to life here, it's still a foreign culture to me. I've learned about it, and can explain it, but I haven't adopted it as my own. I still am very much a citizen of the USA living in Morocco. Consequently, sometimes the cultural differences here are still prominent to me. It's as if, at times, I feel a later stage version of culture shock. Perhaps shock is no longer the most appropriate word, but to the extent that that word is no longer entirely evocative, I believe it is largely due to simply having been exposed to this foreign culture for as long as I have been living in it. That, having lived here as long as I have, the cultural differences are no longer surprising, or shocking, but only because they're no longer novel. The attendant challenges, of coping and adjustment, are still present.

Yes, if you think that I am implying that I feel in some ways that I have not entirely adjusted to the culture here, then, yes, you are correctly interpreting what I am trying to say. I think that perhaps it is still reasonable to still be adjusting to the culture here. But I also think that I in particular feel especially challenged in living here due to my particular makeup, approach to life, philosophy, religion, faith and values. I generally favor freedom and latitude over restriction; debate over silence; inquiry over static acceptance and failure to question; activity over passivity. I attended a college which helped me to further develop these values and this approach to life; which keenly tried to encourage its students to engage in critical thinking; and which strongly supported respecting others' rights, which certainly included buoying and improving the status of women. In addition to all of these facets of my intellectual makeup, I feel most challenged here in terms of my spirituality, given the relative lack of exchange between religions, paucity of debate and little diversity within any particular conversation about religion here. And I face these spiritual challenges in the context of being Christian in a country which is more than 98 percent Muslim.

You might think that I have been describing many things descriptive of my entire time here in Morocco. I think it's true, that in the last month and half, I have been feeling emotions which I have always felt here in Morocco. To a certain extent, in my mid-service crisis, if it deserves to be called that, I have been continuing to grapple with challenges I have always felt here.

In a way, I think that maybe in the last month and a half, I have been assessing how I have been dealing with these challenges. I've been evaluating how I cope.

I've gained some fortitude from knowing that at this point, I feel relatively stable in my service. I know how to cope well. I did experience a series of rough patches in the last month and a half. Yet, at no point during this period did I sink anywhere nearly as low as I did during my first few months living here in my town, from late November last year to mid-March this year. I think that I've fared as well as I have because of the advice I've received, and my own advice (mostly contained in my August 2011 blog post entitled "Tips for PCVs and PCTs,") which I myself have tried to follow. Recently when I was feeling down, I identified how I was feeling. I thought, "I'm feeling homesick." Next I thought, "It's reasonable for me to feel homesick. I am far away from many people I love. I miss them. It's completely natural for me to feel this way." Immediately I felt drastically better. Knowing that I can competently cope, I then feel empowered to take action in other areas, such as my work.

I've also maintained a sense of direction and purpose by reminding myself while I'm here. I remember very often that I'm trying to do what God wants me to do, namely, help others, and, more specifically, help impoverished people, and, even more specifically, help them better themselves.

In keeping in touch with my faith, and reminding myself what my values are, I've been taking my own advice, remembering what I've learned. And I've also been remembering what others have taught me. You might think I am making a very obvious point here. However, I've seen numerous PCVs sinking low because they succumb to various forms of tunnel vision, of pessimism, of failing to consult, listen to, and learn from others (and at times I have suffered from this malady as well). So remember what you have learned, and ask for help when you need it. After all, the Peace Corps is all about learning from others.

Wormhole to the U.S.

A couple of weekends ago, I went to the city that's about an hour away from my town. I was very happy to attend a Bible study session with the Christians who I had met there earlier this year.

Later in the day after the Bible study session, I stayed overnight at one of their houses. While the Christians in this group, which meets for Bible study, are expats from various countries, the particular family, with whom I stayed overnight, is originally from the U.S. Consequently, when I was in their house with them, they were speaking nothing but English, except when they were on the phone with Moroccans, when they then spoke Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic.

Also, they've been living here in Morocco so long that this is their home. They've adjusted quite well; they're comfortable. One of them commented to me that it takes months to adjust to life here in Morocco. I agree, and I can say from experience that it takes a while for Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) to adjust to life in their particular host countries.

During much of the time I spend with other PCVs, we end up talking about challenges of serving here in Morocco. However, these expats from the U.S. are so adjusted, that I felt like they were hosting me in a home of theirs in the U.S. Thus the conversation felt much like conversation I'd have in a home physically located in the U.S.

On a more mundane level, I also enjoyed listening to the music they were playing in their home. We listened to The Beatles and Michael Jackson.

When I arrived at their home, it appeared as if they had just finished eating breakfast. One of them told me to help myself to some pancakes... with maple syrup! As if that wasn't enough, once I had started eating some pancakes, he told me to have as many of them as I wanted, since otherwise they were probably just going to go to waste. I was thrilled, since I hadn't eaten pancakes with maple syrup in months!

Another way in which I felt that I had been transported to the U.S.: I used their toilet. Which meant, given that it has a toilet seat, that I sat down to use it! Being accustomed to using a squat toilet here in Morocco, it felt like I was in another country when I sat down to use a toilet!

For various reasons I felt like I was in the U.S. Sure, I felt like I was in the U.S. because I was seeing, touching, hearing and tasting things I don't often experience here in Morocco. But I think I also felt as if I was in the U.S. because my hosts that weekend were, and are, just so hospitable, generous, warm and caring. Why, you might ask, is that any different than when some Moroccans show me hospitality in their home? I was able to just relax and decompress. I wasn't serving as an ambassador of the U.S. like I usually am when I walk around in public here in Morocco, or even when I'm in the home of some Moroccans.

But, truth be told, there is more to it than that. I was so immensely comfortable because I knew I was with other Christians. I don't always have to be spending time with other Christians. Yet at a certain point after not having spent time with other Christians, I start to feel isolated if I'm not meeting in spiritual community with other Christians. In a certain way, I don't feel supported in my faith by others, because I'm not spending time with others who share my faith. While there are various ways of building and maintaining spiritual community, I believe that one gains it in a most helpful and supportive way by actually spending time with others.

When I was applying to join the Peace Corps, I had resigned myself to the reality that I would probably not be able to go to church regularly, and to the probability that I would not be living near other Christians. But God saw fit to have it otherwise. God takes care of me.

Exodus: My One Year Anniversary in Morocco

"Open your eyes,
and look within:
are you satisfied
with the life you're living?"
- Bob Marley

I have long loved the above quotation, from the song entitled "Exodus" by Bob Marley. For two decades, in fact, I have tried to live by it, which has meant asking myself the above question at different points in my life. This has been an inquiry which has been easy for me.

It has been easy for me to see when I am happy as well as contented, when I feel fulfilled, when my being is joyous. I try to pay attention to, and thus it's fairly easy to see, what elicits and fosters these feelings in me. It's easy to ask myself these questions. Years ago, it became clear to me that I feel best when helping others. And it didn't take me long to figure out what my skills are, and thus to ascertain how I can best help others.

Thus I came to the conclusion that I should leave the job which I left last year. Although I felt fulfilled in that job, was grateful to be helping others, considered my co-workers to be blessings in my life, and respected them and the work which they were competently, compassionately, and passionately doing, I felt with a good deal of clarity that I had to move on, because my answers lay elsewhere.

Hence the inquiry was easy. And the general conclusion to leave was easy, despite, for so many reasons, how comfortable I was there with them.

Accepting the answers, on the other hand, at times has not seemed as easy. I consciously use the verb "to seem" rather than the verb "to be" in the previous sentence. As I've tried to suggest in previous blog entries, I have been coming to realize that my feelings of contentment, fulfillment and joy have largely depended on how I choose to perceive what happens in my life. And, now, in this paragraph, I am suggesting that it's up to me how easy the answers seem to be. If I choose to perceive the answers as being difficult to accept, then they will be difficult to accept. If I choose to perceive the answers as being easy to accept, then they will be easy to accept.

While I did not feel especially challenged in my inquiry into whether to leave my job last year, at first the answer of what specifically I should do next did not seem as easy, as I suggested in my very first blog entry, entitled "Up Until Now." I grappled with the idea of joining the Peace Corps, and finally accepted this path one day as I was sitting in church. I changed my perspective, and accepted God's way, rather than resisting it. I knew that there would be difficulties, and challenges, and I chose to confront them, knowing that I would be strengthened in meeting those challenges, because I was accepting God's way, of love and truth.

Perhaps because I approached the Peace Corps from this direction, I appreciated how the Bob Marley song "Exodus" spoke to me about my spiritual journey which has included joining the Peace Corps. When I was on a bus on my way to Spring Camp earlier this year, I was listening to this song. At that point in my time here in Morocco, I had adapted a good deal to life here in Morocco, thus I had just started to feel that I could survive my two years of Peace Corps service here in Morocco. Hence I was listening to the song with a sense of exhausted relief and gratitude, the kind of gratitude one feels after having completed an especially harrowing part of a journey, when one feels that although there are further challenging parts of the journey ahead, that the worst of it has passed, that one has, in effect, been safely shepherded through the stormiest, most trying periods.

Having felt resonance with this song as I listened to it during that bus ride, I later began to inquire why it especially resonated with me at that particular moment. At first, the most basic associations arose in my mind.

Having started to read the Bible with the first chapter of Genesis on November 27 last year, which was my first full day living in my town here in the Sahara, and having read some of it every single day since then until I read the last chapter of the Book of Revelation on August 29 this year, I thought of how I had read the Book of Exodus. Then I immediately began to think more of this association, guided, in part, by Bob Marley's treatment of that book in his song of the same name. In that song, Bob Marley sings, "Exodus: Movement of the People." The Book of Exodus describes the exodus, or movement, of the Jewish people out of slavery in Egypt. I thought of the similarity of their leaving Egypt, and my having left the U.S. I also thought of how they left Egypt and went into the desert, and how I left the U.S., and came into the Sahara Desert. Of course, my inquiry did not end there.

I thought of how God delivered them out of slavery and out of the desert. And I thought of how I have trusted in God, how he has safely delivered me thus far, and how I know that He will continue to safely deliver me. And in continuing my inquiry further, I thought of how I am on a journey of faith, just as the Jewish people were, when God delivered them out of Egypt. I took a leap in starting a new life, just as the Jewish people took a leap and started a new life when they left Egypt. However, to state it merely so, and not explain it further, would be incomplete, since it was a leap of faith which I took. As the Jewish people had faith in God when He delivered them out of Egypt, so I had faith in God when I took the leap of faith to enter the Peace Corps.

And as I've previously noted, God has provided for me. For that, I have been extremely grateful. For that, I thank God.

But what if tragedy struck? What if dire, calamitous circumstances, on a scale which I have never before experienced, arose in my life? Unfortunately, in such circumstances, some people lose their faith. Or, if they are not already believers, they justify their disbelief by asking how God could allow such misfortune to occur. However, what it seems that they fail to realize, is that we gain strength through adversity. It is exactly when times are hardest, and test us most, that we have the best, most promising, most valuable opportunities to grow. In his book "The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence For Belief," Francis Collins asks, "Have you learned more about yourself when things were going well, or when you were faced with challenges, frustrations and suffering?"

It was in this vein that I have tried to learn from the unexpected and tragic deaths of loved ones. My friend Liz died nearly eight years ago, when she had been married less than a couple of years, and when she was five months pregnant. As if that didn't make her passing tragic enough, she was an extremely caring and giving person. A couple of decades ago, before I met her, she was a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) in Niger. Later in her life, she and I worked together at both of the jobs I held just before I joined the Peace Corps. She was my mentor, and my friend. I was shaken up by her death. I began to ask myself more and more how I was spending my life, to evaluate more often my life choices. Thus, in this vein, I applied to the Peace Corps.

As my friend Maral said at Liz's memorial service years ago, "She's only dead if we let her die," meaning that we must not forget her. Meaning that because I admired her so much, I choose for her to live on, by trying to emulate her in her generosity and kindness. Thus I found it immensely appropriate that it was on her birthday last year that I boarded a plane to fly here to Morocco to enter the Peace Corps. And thus, as I am writing this blog entry on the one year anniversary of my arrival here in Morocco, I am conscious of, and grateful for, and choose now to honor, her service as a PCV, her kindness and generosity as a human being, and her guidance of me.

Since Liz played such an important role in my life, I have been conscious each year of her birthday and the date on which she died. Consequently, at some point, I thought about exactly how old she was when she died. Very soon after I thought about exactly how old she was when she died, it occurred to me when I was going to be that exact age. On June 16 this year, which was the day when I became exactly as old as she was when she died, I thought a lot about her that day. And I realized that none of us should expect to live for any particular amount of time. I was yet again reminded of my own mortality. I was again spurred to evaluate how I am living my life.

Since I always try to take this approach in my life, I appreciated it when, in the last few days, I just read a particular passage in Jon Krakauer's book "Into The Wild." In that book, Krakauer explores the life of a young man named Chris McCandless, struck by a severe case of wanderlust, uninhibited by society's expectations about how he should live his life. In his book, Krakauer includes a letter from McCandless to a friend, in which McCandless urges his elderly friend:

I'd like to repeat the advice I gave you before, in that I think you really should make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.

Some of you may have read "Into The Wild"; others might not have read it. For those of you who have read it, please keep in mind that I am quoting McCandless because, when he was pondering how he wanted to live his life, he was brave enough to think outside of the confines of societal expectations. Tragically, he also was careless, and did not sufficiently prepare for his adventures. However, one can define one's own life, which can be contrary to societal expectations, and also plan properly to avoid unnecessary danger. So, please know that I am not quoting him for the purpose of endorsing a reckless, imprudently unsafe lifestyle; rather, I am quoting him for his uncommon ability to boldly define his own life. I am quoting him for the purpose of illustrating that anyone can bravely choose to define the parameters of their own life, perhaps unconventionally so, in order to live a more generous, loving, kind and compassionate life than a life which society generally encourages people to lead.

And in the context of my life experiences, which has included unexpectedly losing loved ones, I choose not to wait to make adjustments to my life, when those adjustments occur to me. I remember that a few years ago, I went with a friend of mine named Liz (not the Liz I mentioned above, but rather, another friend named Liz) to a concert in the splendidly art deco Paramount Theatre in Oakland, California. The main performer of the evening, Madeleine Peyroux, at one point, in between musical numbers, while commenting on a song which she and her fellow musicians were about to perform, advised us in the audience, "Don't wait too long."

When I recalled this advice which we received from Madeleine Peyroux that evening years ago, I thought how appropriate it was that Vienna Teng was the opening performer that evening. Vienna Teng left her comfortable job in Silicon Valley to pursue her passion of being a singer-songwriter. In that sense of making a bold change in her life to pursue her passion and develop her talent, she was one of the people who implicitly supported me, and inspired me, to decide to quit my job and enter the Peace Corps.

So, I try to live my life now. I ask myself what I want to do before I die. Which includes thinking about my values, and trying to live according to my values, conscious of my own mortality, conscious of how I don't know how much time I have. Conscious of how, in Mark 13:33-36, Jesus said:

Be alert!
You do not know when that time will come.
It’s like a man going away:
He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge,
each with their assigned task,
and tells the one at the door to keep watch.

Therefore keep watch
because you do not know
when the owner of the house will come back—
whether in the evening,
or at midnight,
or when the rooster crows,
or at dawn.

If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping.

Eve of an Anniversary

In the last few weeks, I was helping Stan, who is my site mate, that is, the other PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) living in my town, as he looked at potential apartments in which he was considering living. Last week, he moved into his own apartment. He is very happy to have his own space. I'm glad he found an apartment.

I've also been introducing him to Moroccan teachers who live here in town, as they arrive back in Morocco after traveling for the summer. Last night, I introduced him to a Moroccan who teaches Arabic in a primary school here in town. We met at a cafe here in town, where we enjoyed some coffee for a couple of hours. It's not uncommon for men in Morocco to sit at a cafe table, each having just one cup of coffee, over the course of a couple of hours.

While the teacher was asking me about what I had done during my summer, and I was asking him where he had traveled over the summer, for a significant portion of our time together, we were having impromptu language lessons. He was explaining words and phrases in Darija to us, and we were telling him about words and phrases in English. I learned some new words in Darija, but I think that Stan, being newer to Morocco than me, learned more new words than I did.

Given that this teacher is so friendly and helpful, I was glad that I was able to introduce Stan to him. Which, I suppose, is a reflection of how I am glad to be helping Stan in general, as he gets to know the town and the people here in it. And it occurred to me that I am helping him in the context of me having been here in Morocco nearly one full year. Just a few days shy of one full year in Morocco, actually. And I feel pretty good about being here almost one year. I feel relatively well-adjusted, glad to be here doing the work and helping the people I'm helping, and feeling competent at knowing how to cope and handle certain challenges.

Which got me thinking, on the eve of my one year anniversary of arriving here in Morocco, about how I got to where I am mentally and spiritually now, through all of the challenges, many of a type which I had never before faced before the last twelve months. I've tried to learn from what others have tried to tell me, even when it was something I very much didn't want to hear. I've tried to pay attention to what my experiences here have been telling me. I've tried to follow my own advice (which, in my particular, individual case of being here in Morocco as a PCV, has consisted largely of the tips I listed in my August 2011 blog entry entitled "Tips for PCVs and PCTs"). I've tried to take responsibility for how I contribute to what happens in my own life, to try to avoid going down paths where things go seriously awry. It hasn't always been easy. It has involved taking a hard look at myself sometimes, sometimes learning things about myself I didn't expect, and realizing I need to adjust my image of myself and my approach, which often demands humility. But I certainly think that I'm a better person for having done so, and for that, I am very glad.

It's been even easier for me because I have faith that I am trying to do what God wants me to do, to help impoverished people try to better themselves. I have been strengthened by having that vision, which has made this journey considerably easier than it otherwise would have been.

Proselytizing

Yesterday someone asked me if I'm Muslim. Moroccans regularly ask Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) here in Morocco, including me, this question. When we say that we're not Muslim, they subsequently proceed to try to convert us to Islam. However, despite how regularly we get asked this question, I still found it ironic that this occurred to me as I was returning from Mass yesterday on the tram. When I responded that I wasn't Muslim, essentially the person started trying to convert me to Islam. Actually the person who was doing this was one of the tram employees who monitors the tram and takes people's tram ticket stubs.

I left the interaction irritated for a couple of reasons. First, it's illegal for people to try to convert Muslim Moroccans to some religion other than Islam; but it's not illegal for Moroccans to try to convert you to Islam. Second, looking back at the conversation, I realized that I had felt irritated by it because I felt like it wasn't a dialogue; I felt it was much more like a monologue, a lecture. I felt like the man was completely uninterested in trying to learn about what I believe. When I told him that I'm Christian, he immediately proceeded to tell me that there aren't three gods, but that there is only one God. However, if he had tried to find out what I believe, by asking me questions rather than simply talking at me as he was doing, he would have learned that I believe that there is only one God, but that God has multiple facets, that God manifests in different ways.

I have always been irritated by, and uninterested in communicating with, others who don't try to understand my point-of-view. So it certainly makes sense that I left that interaction yesterday feeling irritated. However, in addition to generally being irritated by others who don't try to understand my point-of-view, I was also irked by this interaction yesterday because of how important my faith is to me. Given how I feel about my faith and its importance in my life, I very much didn't appreciate how this man was talking at me and was not trying to have an interactive discussion with me.

I enjoy telling people about the diversity of citizens of the USA. And one way I do that is that I just tell people what I believe, and by doing so, help people to better understand Christianity, and thus the religious diversity of the USA. But that interaction on the tram made me feel like that particular person wasn't even interested in learning about my faith and about diversity in the USA. I suppose that I have to remind myself that not everyone in Morocco will be as interested in learning about me and about the USA as I would like them to be.

Eid Kbir

Today Muslims around the world have been celebrating the annual sacrificial feast of Islam.  Moroccans call it "The Great Feast," which is "Eid Kbir."  It is meant to memorialize how God ordered Abraham to sacrifice his son.  Jewish and Christian believers think that Abraham was about to sacrifice his son Isaac.  Muslims believe that God ordered Abraham to sacrifice his other son, Ishmael.  Therefore, Eid Kbir is celebrated from the point-of-view that Abraham was ordered to sacrifice his son Ishmael.  (All three faiths believe that after God ordered Abraham to sacrifice his son, Abraham was about to do so.  Under all three faiths, God then told Abraham not to sacrifice him, because God had only told Abraham to sacrifice his son to test Abraham's devotion to God. Instead of sacrificing his son, Abraham sacrificed an animal.)

Every family is to have its own sheep on Eid Kbir.  Those who cannot afford a sheep buy a less expensive animal, such as a goat.  In Morocco, families are not to kill their sheep until the King has slain his sheep.  Today I watched the King kill two sheep on TV. After the King has killed his sheep, then the head of each household kills the sheep for that family, then the sheep is cooked bit by bit.  Earlier today, I ate various sheep parts, including sheep liver.

It is customary to purify oneself for Eid Kbir.  One is expected to make oneself as clean as possible.  Accordingly, this morning my host brother, his visiting nephew and I visited the local hammam, which is essentially a Moroccan bath house.  Each of us brought a kis (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic for "exfoliating glove") and we scrubbed ourselves, removing much dirt from our bodies.  We scrubbed each others' backs, too.  Men and boys also get haircuts in preparation for Eid Kbir.

Community members also pray more than usual during Eid Kbir.  Also, it is customary, as always, to give alms to impoverished persons.  People also give some of the cooked sheep parts to poor people as well.  Since it is also customary to visit family and friends during Eid Kbir, I accompanied my host brother and his visiting nephew when they visited some of their relatives here in town this morning.

I certainly feel that I am learning about the culture of Morocco by experiencing Eid Kbir.