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. 

Likely To Succeed

Last week, when I was in Fes, I met some of the new PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) who arrived here in Morocco last month. They're in the thick of their PST (Pre-Service Training), living with Moroccan host families, learning Darija (Moroccan Arabic), and learning about the culture and customs of Morocco.

While I was speaking with them, I was glad to hear that they are prone to employ coping strategies which will serve them well in the long run. One trainee was happily showing her fellow trainees and me a greeting card which a friend had sent her in the postal mail. She was gushing about how she loves sending and receiving correspondence in the postal mail. I too greatly enjoy using the postal mail, including sending and receiving postcards, letters and care packages.

As I've mentioned in a previous blog entry ("Tips For PCVs and PCTs" in August 2011), I certainly recommend using the postal mail. I encourage people to use the postal mail for multiple reasons.

One can find it therapeutic to put pen to paper. When you write, you're communicating how you're feeling. Often when you express your feelings, you'll feel better.

Also, by using the postal mail, years from now you'll have mementoes of your Peace Corps service. Like a diary or a journal, written correspondence can help you preserve your memories for posterity. Electronic communications tend to be more transitory, and either have no record, as with chat histories, or can be deleted with merely the click of a mouse. It's harder to lose a handwritten letter or other written correspondence.

And in the short term, you and others will probably enjoy your correspondence more if it's written. People stick postcards they receive on their fridges. You can tack a letter up on your wall, so you can see it everyday, thus bringing warmth and comfort to your living space.

In utilizing the postal mail, you can also make your communications more special and personalized. You can include things in an envelope which you can't send in an e-mail message, like magazine articles and newspaper articles which you can't find online. You can also make handwritten letters more personalized by using more distinctive envelopes, stationery and postage stamps.

While we were talking about using the postal mail, I shared with them my appreciation of stamps. While living here in Morocco, I've retained my philatelic tendencies which I developed in the states. I enjoy looking for various postage stamps to use when I send postcards and letters to family and friends. I not only want to make what I'm sending more interesting for certain people who are inclined to enjoy such reflections of the culture of Morocco, but I'm also continuing to pursue my hobby of collecting and using a variety of stamps. I do recommend keeping your hobbies, especially those of you who are PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). Surely you've been expecting to make adjustments, and have been making adjustments to life in your host country. Sometimes in making adjustments, you might not be able to do everything you'd like to do in your free time while living in your host country. Sometimes you can continue some of your hobbies. If you can, then definitely do so. It's one way to maintain your emotional resilience amidst the emotional and spiritual challenges you face while in the Peace Corps. While you might think that I'm sharing obvious advice here, some PCVs develop tunnel vision. They focus on what they don't have, or don't like, rather than on what they do have, or they can do, under the circumstances. Do what you can, and what nourishes you and others.

I was also glad that the trainees asked for advice about how to deal with rowdy kids in the classroom. As Youth Development PCVs here in Morocco, we spend a lot of our time teaching and tutoring youths in English in dar shebabs (Darija for "youth centers"). And oftentimes the students are indeed disruptive in the classroom, mostly by talking out of turn--and not just occasionally, or frequently, but rather nearly non-stop--during the lessons. I shared with the trainees that sometimes I use humor as a means of refocusing students' attention on the lesson before them. I was glad not only that the trainees asked for ideas on how to handle classroom misbehavior, but I also was happy to share my experience with them, and I was further pleased that they seemed receptive to my suggestions.

After speaking with the PCTs, I reflected that they are prudent to use such healthy coping strategies and that they're humble and open-minded to ask for guidance. Having such qualities and taking such approaches, they're much more likely to succeed, especially in giving the love to others which they came here to give.

One Way To Avoid Overpaying

Last week, after visiting the town where I had first lived here in Morocco, I spent a day in Fes.  I took a grand taxi to the city.  When I arrived in Fes at the grand taxi stand, I caught a petit taxi into the center of the city.

When I got a petit taxi there in Fes, I followed the advice of my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), Jack, whom I had visited the previous week near Marrakech.  He had told me that when he approaches a petit taxi driver in Marrakech, he asks the driver if the meter is working.  If the driver says that the meter isn't working, my friend takes a different petit taxi.  Last week after my friend had shared this advice with me, I asked him how much he usually pays for petit taxi rides in Marrakech.  I acknowledged that one will pay varying amounts on different petit taxi rides, because the final amount you pay depends on the length of the trip, and every trip is of a different length.  But I also noted that he and I probably often travel between the same places.  He said that he usually pays about 10 to 12 dirhams per petit taxi ride in Marrakech.  I noted to him that I'd been paying 15 dirhams per ride, such that I'd probably been overpaying, but not by a lot.

Nevertheless, I don't want to be paying more than I have to be paying, especially on a relatively meager budget.  Thus, I was sure not only to remember his advice, but also to put it into practice.  When I got a cab in Fes last week, I asked the driver if the meter was working.  He said it was working, which I confirmed, and we were off on our way further into the city.

I must admit that I felt a little silly upon considering that I hadn't been making sure that the meters were working when I had been taking petit taxis in Marrakech.  A little later, however, I considered how I often visit Ouarzazate.  In that city, the petit taxis always charge 4 dirhams per ride during the day, and 6 dirhams per ride at night.  Thus I'd gotten used to not making sure that the meter was working and on.

Still, I thought about how I'd used the MP3 files of recorded language lessons which the Peace Corps provided to me and to others once we'd accepted invitations to serve as PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) here in Morocco.  I'd started using the MP3 files before arriving here in Morocco, so that once I arrived here, I'd had some exposure to basic Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic, including numbers and subject pronouns.  Once I had started living here, I continued using the MP3 files, since the more advanced ones cover some very common, and thus very helpful, conversational phrases.  Among them are "Wesh l-kuntur xdam?" meaning "Is the meter on?" and "Xdam l-kuntur, Eafak," meaning "Turn on the meter, please."

I've devoted some thought to my experiences with petit taxis here, and how I'd forgotten those phrases from the language lessons.  I came to such a basic and elementary conclusion: I've considered that I have to remember what I've learned.  

Moroccan Independence Day

Today, November 18, is Moroccan Independence Day. Before it gained its independence, Morocco had a long history of invasion, occupation and colonization, including by the Phoenicians, Romans, Greeks, Spanish and French. Arabs came to Morocco in the 7th century and stayed with the indigenous Berber population.

Under the Treaty of Fes in 1912, Morocco became a protectorate of France. Under that treaty, Spain took control of areas in northern Morocco. Also under the treaty, in theory Morocco retained its sovereignty, but in reality the French and the Spanish were exploiting it pursuant to the terms of the treaty. In 1956, after rising violence in Morocco accompanying discontent over colonial rule, Morocco gained its independence from France and Spain.

Because of the holiday, the post office and city hall are closed. Students also have the day off from school today.

Gone Food Shoppin'

When I was in the city at the beginning of last week, I took the opportunity to go shopping in one of the supermarkets there. When Moroccans call a store a supermarket, or a "supermarché," as they are called in French, Moroccans are often referring to a store which would be too small to be considered a supermarket in the U.S.

As I've mentioned in previous blog entries, when I'm here in my town, I buy food at hanoots (which is the Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, word for a grocery store of sorts, and which often is a stall carved out of the front of a building with a counter at its front). Typically a hanoot is so small that you just walk up to the counter. You don't walk into the hanoot, because there's no doorway, there's just the counter. In that case, you ask the person (almost invariably a man, at least down here in rural southern Morocco) for what you want, and he brings it to the counter for you. Sometimes a hanoot is large enough that you can walk inside and peruse items on the shelves and bring them to the counter yourself. However, given that I live in a town of less than ten thousand people, not a city, there are items which I can't get when I go shopping at the hanoots here in my town.

So, when I go to the nearest city, which has a population of tens of thousands, I usually visit a supermarché and buy items there which I can't get in my town. A supermarché here in Morocco is often about twice the size of what we would usually call a corner store in the U.S. Sometimes in the supermarché I can buy things which I can't buy in my town; other times in supermarchés, there are more varieties of items than I can buy from hanoots in my town. For example, last week at a supermarché there in the city, I bought some applesauce, which I can't buy in my town. Given how much Moroccans sweeten their food and drink, unsurprisingly I found the applesauce to be too sweet for my liking. However, it was still nice to have it. Much more often, at either of the two supermarchés there in that city, I buy peanut butter, which I also can't get here in my town. There's one brand of peanut butter which has entire peanut halves mixed throughout the peanut butter. There's another brand which manufactures both creamy peanut butter and crunchy peanut butter, both of which are just like peanut butter you can buy in the U.S.

In some cities, such as El Jadida and Rabat, there are slightly larger supermarchés, perhaps four times the size of a corner store in the U.S., which consequently have more variety, and which belong to a chain. When I visited one of them for the first time in El Jadida, I was amazed (coming from the perspective of living in rural Morocco) at the variety of yogurt available in that supermarché. I noted to my friend and fellow PCV Ben that one side of part of one aisle, a part of the aisle which probably ran for 25 to 30 feet, stocked an unbroken stretch of yogurt. I can, and do, buy yogurt in my town, but not from such a wide variety.

Moving beyond supermarchés of these aforementioned sizes here in Morocco, there are stores here in Morocco which citizens of the U.S. indeed would consider supermarkets. In large cities, including Fes and Marrakech (each of which has a population of about 1 million people), one can visit these large supermarkets. Again, sometimes one can buy things at these large supermarkets which one can't buy in a rural town, or, someone has more choices amongst varieties of items than one can buy in a rural town.

Frankly, though, I don't find myself feeling any strong need or desire to visit and shop at these largest supermarkets here in Morocco. Even when I go to the small supermarchés in a city here in southern Morocco, I'm not buying things which I need--I'm buying products which give me a little taste of home, which are nice to have, but which I don't have to have. I'm thankful to have such supermarchés fairly close to my town, but I realize that they're a luxury, not a necessity.

Thus one can try to be conscious of the distinction between necessary sustenance, and food and drink which are simply nice to have. And that in buying certain food, which is not essential, but which is nice to have, one is buying things which one can buy because one has enough money to buy it. Thus one can see certain purchases as reflecting one's wealth.

However, one can also choose to notice a disparity in wealth as reflected in changes in location within a country. One can choose to be conscious of a disparity in wealth while shopping in urban Morocco as opposed to when shopping in rural Morocco. One can see this disparity in multiple ways.

Partly this disparity is reflected in how one gets to one of these large supermarkets in urban Morocco as compared with how one gets to a hanoot in rural Morocco. Most people shopping at the large supermarkets in urban Morocco drive there, though one can also take a bus or a taxi to some of these large supermarkets. I think that relatively few people walk to these large supermarkets in urban Morocco. By contrast, virtually all rural Moroccans will walk to a hanoot to shop. Indeed, the vast majority of people living here in my town don't own cars.

One also can witness a disparity in shopping between urban Morocco and rural Morocco in the denominations of bills customers use. It's far less likely to be problematic for a customer to pay a grocery bill with a 200 dirham note in a large supermarket in urban Morocco than it is to be difficult at a hanoot in rural Morocco. Although a 200 dirham note is equivalent to about 25 dollars in the U.S., if you want to buy a week's worth of groceries with a 200 dirham note at a hanoot in rural Morocco, as another PCV put it, it's like trying to use a 100 dollar bill in the U.S. Since smaller amounts of currency are flowing in and out of stores in rural Morocco, it's consequently harder to get change for a large bill.

Thus even when doing something as mundane and simple as grocery shopping, we have the opportunity to practice being conscious. To notice what is going on around us, and how we fit into it, and what our part in it is.

Capital Improvements and Construction of Churches

I live on a short unpaved street; thus, it's a dirt road. When I walk out of the front door of my two-unit apartment building and turn left and walk a few hundred feet, I reach the second most prominent street in my town; it has many shops, including hanoots (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery stores") on it.

Last month, when I left my town to go to IST (In-Service Training), the town was preparing to pave that road. When I got back from IST, they had finished paving the road.

Although I've seen the workers using a steamroller when they are finishing a paving job here in town, the road isn't completely smooth once they're done paving. There are some loose bits of gravel on the road, which eventually make their way to the edges of the road. Even then, the rest of the road isn't completely smooth, because the bits of gravel which are molded to the road aren't completely flattened into the road. The more prominent road in my town, the main road, is paved a little more smoothly, since it's part of the road system which you see on a map of Morocco.

Earlier in the year, the town had ripped up certain roads and was making improvements to the sewer system. Once they had made the improvements to the sewer system, they then paved those roads.

In sharing these developments in my town, I'm led to point out some things about countries in which the Peace Corps places PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). Since some of you at times have sounded surprised about the level of development and infrastructure in Morocco, keep in mind that the Peace Corps sends PCVs to developing countries which are at different stages of development. Consequently, some countries in which PCVs work are more developed than some of you might expect.

Also, remember Morocco's history, which has in large part been influenced by its geographical location. Being at the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea, Morocco has long occupied a strategic spot. As a result, many peoples over time have tried to occupy and colonize Morocco. The Phoenicians, Greeks and Romans invaded Morocco. The Phoenicians established the port cities of Tangier and Essaouira, as well as Tetouan. Roman ruins remain at Volubilis in northern Morocco. Arabs also migrated to Morocco, bringing Islam with them in the 7th century. And of course, much later, the French colonized Morocco, resulting in the Treaty of Fes in 1912, which made Morocco a French protectorate until Morocco gained independence in 1956. Over time, 100,000 French nationals settled in Morocco. In the 20th century, the French built their "villes nouvelles," or new districts, in many Moroccan cities, in which the French lived. The French also made significant changes to the infrastructure of Morocco, installing electricity, paving roads, laying railways, and establishing Casablanca as a major port. So when thinking about the level of development in Morocco, remember the historical context in which this development is occurring.

Also, when noting that there are churches in Morocco, remember the historical context in which these churches arose, and who built them. European colonists set up churches in Morocco for their own use. These churches remain in many cities in Morocco, among them Tangier, Tetouan, Fes, Rabat, Casablanca, Agadir, Essaouira, Marrakech, and Ouarzazate. However, they are overwhelmingly attended by tourists and other non-Moroccans living in Morocco.

The Big Game

A couple of nights ago, I headed to the barber shop of a Moroccan friend of mine. (No, he doesn't cut my hair, as I do that myself with my electric razor at home). He's a friendly, sociable and welcoming guy, so I go to his shop from time to time to socialize and practice my Arabic. This particular Wednesday night when I headed there, I knew that a big soccer match was going to be played, and that he would be watching it in his shop.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays this time of the year, many Moroccan men and boys watch soccer matches (remember that here they call it "football," not "soccer"). I have found it most interesting how Moroccan men and boys in my town are so engrossed in matches between the two teams which were playing on Wednesday, which were Barcelona and Real Madrid. That's right, these are Spanish soccer teams, which is why I find it so intriguing that Moroccan men and boys enjoy watching these teams so much. It's not like there aren't Moroccan soccer teams.

In fact, when I arrived at the barber shop, my friend the barber had his flat screen TV tuned to a game between teams from Fes and Agadir, two Moroccan cities. He might have detected a look of puzzlement and concern on my face, since he said to me, "We'll turn on the game between Barsa and Madrid in a few minutes." It hadn't yet started. And sure enough, once the players on Barsa and Madrid were doing the coin toss to see which team got the ball first, my friend did not change the channel until halftime. He only switched back to the game between Fes and Agadir once the game between Barsa and Madrid had reached halftime.

So, many Moroccan men and boys here in town seem to be more excited about Barsa and Madrid than they seem to be interested in Moroccan soccer teams. It's expected that someone is rooting for either Barsa or Madrid. Before the game started, my friend the barber asked me if I liked Barsa or Madrid. When I responded that I didn't like either, he responded, "Maymkansh," which is Darija for "impossible," which made me smile, knowing the excitement over these teams.

When Madrid got possession of the ball at certain points, I was struck by, and enjoyed, how some of the Moroccans in the room were encouragingly saying, "Seer. Seer." It reminded me of how American men and boys, watching sports games, cheer the same word in English, "Go! Go!" even when they are not in the stadium.

When the first 45-minute half ended, and halftime arrived, neither team had scored. When the second half ended, still neither team had scored.

In the end, during extra time, Madrid finally scored a goal. Madrid won 1-0. I must admit, that although there was cheering in the room when Madrid scored that goal, it was not as loud or as raucous as I had expected it to be.

Once the game had ended, monada (Darija for "soda") was broken out in celebration, and shared liberally, in the typical Moroccan fashion of generosity and hospitality. I finally left my friend's shop at 11 p.m. As on that night, if one sees a good number of men and boys out at 11 p.m., it's most likely because a soccer match has been played that evening.

A Kaleidoscope of Emotions

Wow. A lot has happened since my last blog entry, even though it has only been a few weeks. I had intended and had hoped to write a blog entry a couple of weeks ago, but I have been quite busy!

To take things in order... A few days after my last blog entry, I started making the rounds, saying my farewells to new, Moroccan friends I made in the community where I spent PST (Pre-Service Training) with four other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees). A couple days before we left town, I went into my favorite cafe there, and the waiters walked right over to me, shook my hand, and bid warm farewells to me. All of us PCTs there in town had a party with our host families the night before we left town. At the end of the party, when we were saying goodbye to each other, many tears were shed. 

At my own host family's home later that night, I spent my last few waking hours with my host mother and my host brother, and his sisters who were visiting from out of town. I started crying as I told them that soon after I left the USA, I was sad because I was leaving my family and friends in the USA. Then as I was crying, I told them that it was difficult again because I had to leave them. I thanked them for being so kind, generous and considerate to me. I again said, as I had already told my host brother, that I appreciated them so much, and how they treated me so well and warmly. Having traveled far from home, having left everyone I knew, being in a foreign country, not knowing any Moroccans when I arrived, not knowing how to speak the language and not being accustomed to the culture, I appreciated their generosity and hospitality all the more. They told me that I am a part of their family, which I feel like I am. I felt bad about having to leave.

The next morning, I and the four other PCTs in my local CBT (Community-Based Training) group took a grand taxi to Fes, where we had been storing our excess baggage for the previous two months. The other YD (Youth Development) PCTs also came to Fes that morning to retrieve their excess luggage from storage. We, the 30 or so YD PCTs, then took a bus to the beach town where we had had our first few days of training in Morocco, in September.

There in the beach town, we met up again with the SBD (Small Business Development) PCTs who traveled here to Morocco with us in September. In that town, we had more training sessions, including on health and safety, emotional well-being and coping, and Peace Corps procedures and policies, among other topics.

While we were there, we also had our LPIs (Language Proficiency Interviews). Essentially, during the LPI, for about 15 minutes, an interviewer, who is fluent in Darija, speaks with a PCT in Darija to gauge how well the PCT speaks Darija (one CBT group of five SBD PCTs learned a Berber language instead of Darija, so those PCTs were interviewed in that Berber language). The interviewer then decides how proficient the PCT is in speaking the language. At that point, at the end of PST, the Peace Corps expects PCTs to have attained a certain level of proficiency in the language which they have been learning. I was glad to find out that the Peace Corps thinks that I am speaking Darija at an appropriate level, considering how long I have been in Morocco.

After a few days in that beach town, all of us YD PCTs and SBD PCTs traveled on a couple of buses to Rabat so we could be sworn in as PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). In Rabat, the US Ambassador to Morocco administered the Peace Corps oath to us, at which point we became Peace Corps Volunteers! It was definitely a high point thus far in my time here in Morocco. I felt so glad, happy, satisfied and fulfilled knowing that I had become a PCV, which I have wanted to do for over a dozen years. And it felt great to be surrounded by over 60 other brand new PCVs, as we congratulated each other. Immediately after the ceremony, at the reception, it was also notable that I ate some of the yummiest cookies in my life.

While we were happy about becoming PCVs, at the same time, we were disappointed that our Director of the Peace Corps in Morocco, David Lillie, was about to leave us, as he was moving on to another position with the Peace Corps outside of Morocco. He is very kind and thoughtful, and we greatly appreciated how he took the time to get to know us and speak with us as much as he did.

Often the case while being in the Peace Corps, there are juxtapositions of disappointments and low points right next to joyous events and high points. Later that day, dozens of us brand new PCVs celebrated at the American Club in Rabat with each other.

The next morning, we started heading toward our final sites where we will live for the next two years as PCVs. That morning, I caught a train from Rabat to Marrakech with a dozen other PCVs. We stayed in Marrakech for the night. The next morning, a couple groups of us split apart, each group heading in different directions. I continued south with a few other PCVs who are posted in the same region as me.

That afternoon, I arrived in my final site. I arrived back in the home of my new host family. I started getting things done here in town. The first couple of days, things were fine.

After being here a few days, I thought that there will not be any other citizens of the USA here. Upon thinking that, I felt a loneliness unlike any I had ever experienced before. After being in PST with other PCTs around me every day of the week, I was now in a site by myself. Also, during PST, we had our LCF (Language and Culture Facilitator, which is the Peace Corps lingo for our teacher), who helped us immensely in communicating, explained to us Moroccan ways of doing things, and just generally served as a fantastic source of support and encouragement to us.

I also thought, in shock, that I will be here for two years. I despaired. I couldn't believe that I had put myself in this situation. I didn't see how I would be able to be here for two years.

An adjustment was in order. Or, rather, adjustments were in order. Sure, in terms of getting used to living here, learning how things work, how to get things done. But not just in terms of accomplishing tasks.

Also I had to adjust my approach to my own life. While I was still a PCT, a PCV told me, "Don't think of it as putting your life on hold for the next two years. Just think of it as your life." I didn't really understand it at the time. Sure, I was able to conceptualize it, explain it intellectually. But I didn't feel it. No, it was more than that: I wasn't yet living it.

I've been here in site for more than a week now. I've started making new friends. I've been enjoying spending time with Moroccans I've been meeting here. And as a result of that, I feel much more comfortable than I did that angst-ridden day a few days after I arrived here.

The Moudir (director) of the Dar Chebab here in town is fantastic. He is very patient, which I especially appreciate because I can't yet communicate well in Darija.

The kids at the Dar Chebab here are great. They are very friendly, and good-natured. I enjoy going to the Dar Chebab, which of course is great since I will be spending much of my time over the next two years there. I enjoy having laughs with the kids and the Moudir.

I am enjoying living here, and I am looking forward to more of the same. More good times are ahead.

Who's The Crazy One Here?

A couple of days ago, I explained to a petit taxi driver in Fes that "Daffy Duck" was the name of the stuffed animal hanging from his rear view mirror.  Actually, at first, it seemed that the chap didn't even realize that I was pointing to the looney tune.  He was looking in the other direction, out his driver's side window.  I had to redirect him to the rear view mirror.  Then, at first, I asked him in Darija, that is, in Moroccan Arabic, "Shnoo smeetoo?" meaning "What's his name?"  He looked quite confused.  Then I said, "En francais, il s'appelle 'le canard fou.'  En anglais, il s'appelle 'Daffy Duck.'"  

Then it occurred to me that this fellow probably had never seen our fearless cartoon character in action.  Then it also occurred to me that Moroccan taxi drivers probably don't name stuffed animals hanging in their taxis.  So, then I thought, "This guy is probably thinking, 'That duck isn't crazy; you are!'"

Then I quickly explained, "Ce canard est dans les bandes dessinees aux Etats-Unis!"  Once I had explained that Daffy is in cartoons, the cab driver said, "Ah, oui!  Les bandes dessinees!"

A Little More About PST (Pre-Service Training)

It recently occurred to me that there are probably gaps in what many of you know about my experience thus far here in Morocco. So, I figured that I should write a new blog entry.

First, keep in mind that I am not yet a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). I am still a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT). After a few days of initial training with all of the other Youth Development (YD) and also the Small Business Development (SBD) PCTs, I and the other YD PCTs headed to Fes, while the SBD PCTs headed to a different place. Then we split into groups of five and six and headed to our small Community-Based Training (CBT) sites, where we have been spending most of our time. Every couple of weeks, we leave our smaller CBT sites and all of us YD PCTs meet for a couple of days of training together, then head back to our local CBT sites.

At our CBT sites, Monday to Friday, we spend a few hours each morning learning Darija, or Moroccan Arabic. Saturdays, we only meet in the morning to learn more Darija. Each day that we meet, we eat lunch together, after sometimes going out and buying our food at the weekly souq, or farmer's market, which is in our town. After lunch, sometimes our LCF (Language and Culture Facilitator, which is Peace Corps' name for our teacher) gives us a lesson about Moroccan culture. In the afternoons, we also go out and meet members of the community, including at the town's Dar Chebab, or Youth Center. During these interactions, we have tried to assess the state of youth in our community, what resources they have available, what they could use, and how they spend their time. By trying to find these answers, we hope to be better able to help the youth in our communities. Also, by gathering this information, and practicing this approach of gathering information, we hope to be better prepared to learn about our communities at our final sites.

That is, once we finish the nine weeks of training next month, we will leave our CBT sites and head to our final sites, where we will live over the next two years. At the end of this month, we will find out where in Morocco our final sites will be.

Actually, by the end of PST, a PCT has to pass tests, including on safety and security in Morocco, and on Peace Corps procedures and policies, as well as an LPI (Language Proficiency Interview). If a PCT passes all of these tests, then a PCT is sworn in as a PCV. We current PCTs here in Morocco will be sworn in as PCVs in mid-November.

In the meantime, our focus in the afternoon has been shifting somewhat, such that for part of the afternoons, we are learning about teaching English classes to youths. When we arrive at our final sites, we will begin by teaching English to youths. Later, we may also begin working on involving youth in a broader range of extracurricular activities, which may involve teaching English within the context of those extracurricular activities, which may be civics or geography lessons, sports, theatre, health or environmental education, or other activities.

When we arrive at our final sites, we will again be living with host families, as we have been doing during training. Then, soon after arriving at our final sites, we will likely find our own housing. It surely will be even more of an adventure when we head to our final sites!