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. 

Some Tasty Treats

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

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

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

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

COS (Completion of Service) Conference

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shifting Cultural Norms

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

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

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

Women's Rights And Girls' Imaginations

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

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

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

Get In Line

I've learned not to expect lines to form here in Morocco. When buying just about anything, most likely there won't be a line, so if you get someplace first, it doesn't mean you'll be helped first.

Considering this context of lines tending not to form, yesterday morning I was surprised when I was buying my ticket at the train station in Rabat. As I was standing at the counter speaking with the attendant, at a couple of different moments, people came up to the counter and tried to buy their tickets before I had finished buying my ticket. Without giving them any information or selling them tickets, the attendant directed them to go back and form a line.

However, it wasn't as if a revolution had begun in which people far and wide were being directed to form lines here in Morocco. Yesterday afternoon after I had arrived in Marrakech, when I was in the bus station trying to buy a bus ticket back down to the town where I live in the Sahara, Moroccan men were walking up to the counter where I already was, inquiring if certain buses were full, and getting their questions answered before I'd bought my ticket.

A Little Taste Of Home

One reason I appreciate coming here to the city of Rabat is that other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I get to enjoy a variety of different cuisines when we come here. Since I've been here this month, other PCVs and I have eaten delicious food in various spots. Several days ago, we ate authentic Chinese food in one restaurant. Today we went to the American Club here in Rabat. The American Club is only open to US citizens, and serves some food found in the US, including cheeseburgers and onion rings. So it's always a pleasant treat to get a little taste of food from home when we get to eat at the American Club.

Expressing Gratitude By Helping Someone Else

After my recent visit to Marrakech, I continued up to the coast, where other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I prepared for our imminent work at Spring Camp. While we were there, some of us PCVs met with the men and women who will be the directors of the Spring Camps where we will be working. More recently, I was glad to get to visit another friend and fellow PCV, Eric, who lives relatively close to Rabat. He cooked some delicious food for me, including banana pancakes, and falafel with a delectable dipping sauce, for me and other friends.

I tried to give him some money to help defray the costs of cooking for me. He refused the funds, explaining that I was his guest. When he found me washing dishes, he told me to stop, again because I was his guest. While I would have preferred to contribute and/or reciprocate his efforts, I certainly appreciated his hospitality. And I've come to realize that, while I will still hope and aim to express my gratitude by trying to be generous and thoughtful in turn, due to circumstances, some acts of hospitality will not be immediately--and perhaps not ever directly--reciprocated. However, when we can't give back directly to the person who gave to us, often we can show our appreciation by being kind to someone else. In effect, we can express our gratitude by indicating that we like how the person treats others, by emulating the generous person generally in our lives, whenever we have the chance.

Gone, But Not Forgotten

When I was in Rabat at the end of last month for my mid-service medical exam, I sent a letter to my folks in the states. It sounds like they received it about a week after I'd sent it. If I've got a letter to send to the states, if I'm about to travel to a major city here in Morocco, I usually wait until I get to the big city to mail it. That way, it will likely arrive sooner than if I mail it from the town in which I live. Once I mailed a letter to the states from the town in which I live, and it took six weeks to arrive!

Anyway, soon after my folks had received my letter, I received an e-mail message from my mom, in which, among other things, she acknowledged that they had received the letter. She also described how, when my dad was reading the letter, their dog, Star, walked over to my dad and started sniffing the letter! As Star was sniffing the letter, she started wagging her tail! It seems as though she picked up my scent on the letter!

Efficiency With A Snap of the Fingers

On my way back from my mid-service medical exam in Rabat this week, I visited my friend and fellow PCV, Jack, who lives and works relatively close to Marrakech. I arrived in his town when he was still at his dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where we, as Youth Development PCVs here in Morocco, generally do most of our volunteering.

He was finishing up teaching an English class when I arrived. I stuck around not only for the rest of that class, but for all of the next two classes he was teaching.

I got a good tip from him on dealing with classroom misbehavior. At one point, some of the students in his class were talking amongst themselves. He responded to their chatter, by keeping his cool, but also by snapping his finger. Immediately his students fell silent. I thought, "Now, that's one that I've got to remember!"

The Luxury of a Hot Shower

I am blessed in many ways, including by having a shower in my apartment where I live down in the Sahara. Unfortunately, I don't have hot running water, which means that when I take a shower at home here in Morocco, it's a cold shower. Consequently, during this time of the year, in autumn and winter, when I'm in my town, I delay taking showers for as many days as I can, to avoid taking cold showers during cold weather.

Thus when I was in Rabat this week for my MSM (mid-service medical exam), it was with great delight that I took a hot shower last night in the hotel where I was staying. I reveled in the luxury of it. It was so much more enjoyable than hot showers which I've taken in the states, surely because it had been so long since I'd had one. Looking back at how I failed to appreciate hot showers as much when I still lived in the US, I thought of how, so often, we don't appreciate something until it's gone. And how many of us take for granted conveniences we have which others, living elsewhere in the world, don't have.

MSM (Mid-Service Medical Exam)

Today I had my mid-service medical exam (MSM) and my annual dental cleaning here in Rabat. If a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) has developed a medical condition or a dental condition which the Peace Corps can't accommodate, then the Peace Corps will medically separate a PCV (meaning that, under the medical separation, the PCV's service ends and the PCV gets sent back to the US). All went smoothly with my MSM and my dental exam. So, all I have to say is, onward with my Peace Corps service!

Asking a Woman's Opinion

This afternoon, I went over to my host family's home for lunch. As usual, when I arrived, the TV was on. In most Moroccan homes, if the TV is not on when one arrives, then shortly after one arrives for a visit, it is switched on. For a while, I was talking with some of the members of my host family. One of them was showing me some photos which she and her extended family members and friends had taken in Rabat, Casablanca and Ouarzazate on her cell phones (yes, she has more than one cell phone). After a while, my host family brought out some tea and sweets which we enjoyed together. Some time later, we ate lunch, which was a tajine, or stew, with bread, and drank the peach nectar which I had brought to their house with me.

At some point, we were watching a TV show about a group of Moroccan women who went to Marrakech for a weekend getaway. It seemed like a reality TV show. The footage was switching back and forth between their Moroccan husbands at home cooking and caring for the kids, and the Moroccan women enjoying their time in Marrakech, which included a meal in a Chinese restaurant as well as some time poolside.

I was struck by one thing which I've noticed before on TV here in Morocco which has always somewhat puzzled me. During the segment of the show at the pool, women in bikinis were shown. Yet I was watching this show not only in Morocco, but in the home of a fairly conservative family, in a conservative rural town, where the vast majority of women cover almost all of their bodies, except their faces, hands, and below their ankles. I've been repeatedly surprised by how conservative families here in Morocco watch TV programs showing scantily clad women, or women at least wearing clothing with low necklines, and baring most of, if not all of, their arms and legs. I suppose that I can discern that these viewers might be making a distinction between what they choose to wear themselves and what they choose to watch other women wearing on TV. Still, I am a bit surprised to see conservative women and men here watching TV shows starring women who are so uncovered.

In any event, when the TV show was over, I asked one of my host sisters (who, incidentally, in the last few months, has been to Casablanca and Rabat) what she thought of how these Moroccan women went to Marrakech for the weekend and left their husbands to cook in the kitchen and care for their kids. My host sister wouldn't answer.

After she wouldn't answer my question, I felt that I was led, by her failure to respond, to think a couple of things. First, it occurred to me that she wasn't used to someone asking her for her opinion, at least not on the topic which I was addressing. Which makes sense, given the cultural norm here in conservative rural Morocco, of how women are generally expected to stay at home, cook and care for their kids. Second, it occurred to me that perhaps she didn't feel like she could say what she really thought in response to my question... whatever it was that she thought. However, I still thought that it was important to ask her for her opinion...

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.

Take Care Of My Sheep

Dusk was near
Alongside the train from Marrakech to Rabat
The silhouette of a shepherd and a dozen sheep.

Joyous Song of Expats Living in Morocco

I was happy to attend Mass today here in Rabat. It was almost all in French. A moment after I stepped into the church, I was glad I was there, just being in a silent church.

I arrived very early, perhaps an hour before Mass was scheduled to begin. A little after I had arrived, people started gathering in the front pews and started singing. I really enjoyed listening to them sing.

During the service, they sang a couple of songs in a language I didn't understand when I heard it and also when I tried to read it on the bulletin for today's Mass. After Mass had ended, I approached one of the young black women who had been animatedly and happily singing in this other language. I asked her in which language these songs were written and sung. She told me that they were in one of the languages of South Africa. It turns out that there is a South African expatriate community in Rabat.

So, I enjoyed visiting a church today, and enjoyed attending Mass today. I also enjoyed listening to joyous, buoyant South African song today, for which I was most grateful.

Taking The Wheel

I love trains and trams. So, while I've been in Rabat this week, I've been happy to be getting to ride the new tram which just started transporting passengers three months ago, so I'm told.

However, what I loved more was how at one stop, the man driving the tram stood up, stepped aside, and the woman who had been standing beside him sat down and started driving the tram. Many Moroccans are accepting that women may rightfully occupy a variety of positions in the paid workforce. On the other hand, many Moroccans believe that girls and women should restrict themselves to domestic tasks in the home rather than be employed in paid positions. Consequently, being concerned about women's human rights, I enjoyed seeing this particular woman sit down and start driving the train.

However, even more than either of these things, even more I loved how my middle-aged, well-educated Moroccan friend, who's a woman, exclaimed, "A woman is going to drive the train?! Great!" While I like seeing people make bold choices which show they are empowered, motivated and determined to shape their own futures in constructive and beneficial ways, what I like even more is seeing people who do so while encouraging, emboldening, and hopefully inspiring others.

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.

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.