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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday Lunch In Morocco

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

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

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

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

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

Buy Local

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

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

Where Have You Been?

Yesterday I went to the home of a family I often visit here in the town in which I live in the Sahara in Morocco. When I run into them on the street, they invite me over to their home for meals. If I haven't gone over to their home for a meal in a while, usually they'll ask me why I haven't come to their home.

Before I went over to their home, I thought I might be able to get some shopping done before most everyone in town disappeared to have lunch. Between about 1 p.m. and about 4 p.m., most hanoots (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for the rough equivalent of corner stores in the USA) are closed while their proprietors are having lunch (and perhaps napping after lunch).

I headed out from my apartment a little before 1 p.m. and was glad to find the hanoot where I mostly frequently shop for groceries open. I stocked up on food, then returned home to drop it off.

Then I continued on to the family's home. When I arrived, I took off my shoes and joined the father on a mat, on top of which was a table with a teapot and glasses. Moroccans love to drink tea, and they always offer some to their guests.

As the father and I sat enjoying the fine weather, bounded by the beautiful blue sky and puffy cumulus clouds, he inquired about my family in the USA, as Moroccans typically do. He also asked me if I had been traveling. I mentioned that on some recent weekends, I'd been to the city which is about an hour north of this town where we live.

All of their kids were traveling, so I only ate with the father. In some conservative Moroccan homes, the women and girls eat separately from the men and boys. In their home, at times we've all eaten together, so I don't know why the mom didn't eat with us yesterday.

The mom brought out lunch, which included some fried fish, accompanied by some hot sauce in which to dip the fish. I enjoyed all of the food, but I enjoyed the hot sauce in a way I didn't enjoy the other food. I don't get to eat much spicy food here in Morocco, so I enjoyed the hot sauce as something which I don't eat too often here. We also ate a vegetarian tajine, or stew, which included potatoes and carrots, grabbing our morsels out of the communal plate with pieces of bread we broke off from the typically round, flat Moroccan loaves of bread.

After lunch, the mom brought us some small oranges for dessert. When we had finished eating the oranges, she came over to the mat and sat with us. She too asked me if I had been traveling. I finally realized that they had been asking me if I had been traveling because I was at their home for a meal for the first time in a month. They felt that it had been too long. They figured that since I hadn't come over for a meal, that I must have been traveling.

I must admit that I had been wary about overindulging in their hospitality. I had been concerned about going to their home too often. Now I know that they expect me to come over more than once a month. It strikes me as a bit notable that even after being here in Morocco for nearly a year and a half, that I am still learning the parameters of the customs and cultural norms here.

Thanksgiving in Morocco, Part Two

Yesterday I was very happy to share in my second Thanksgiving celebration this year. I went to the home of some of my friends from the US who live in the city that's about an hour away from my town, whose home I visit often, including for Bible study with them. There were many folks from the US there yesterday at their home for the Thanksgiving celebration.

The spread was very impressive for dinner, including turkey with gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, turnips, candied carrots, corn and peas, and potato salad. My friends also served sweet potato casserole; I commented that it deliciously tasted much more like, and had a texture much more like, sweet potato crumb cake than casserole. I was equally impressed by the number of options for dessert, which included pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie, lemon pie, two kinds of fudge, pumpkin chocolate brownies, and banana bread.

But honestly, much more than the food, I was happy to be spending time with my friends. And much more than just being happy about spending time with friends, I was much more happy to be spending time with other Christians. In doing so, I just feel supported at a much more profound and deeper level. In applying to the Peace Corps, and in accepting an invitation to join the Peace Corps, I did make a conscious decision to remove myself to a place where I expected to not be around other Christians for the sake of work. I suppose that I appreciate their support and encouragement and company as fellow Christians all the more since I didn't expect to have it from anyone in person while in the Peace Corps!

Thanksgiving in Morocco, Part One

Today here in my province, other PCVs and I got together to have an early Thanksgiving celebration. Given various other activities and commitments we all had coming up, we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving together the weekend before Thanksgiving. Most of us at our celebration were PCVs about halfway through our service as PCVs.

I was grateful that a few of the PCVs decided to cook dinner for all of us. Our host just asked us to contribute 50 dirhams each to help defray the cost of the ingredients which were used in cooking our delicious meal. Speaking of which, here is the menu of the delicious food we ate:

First Course (Appetizers):

pumpkin-apple soup
mixed salad with garlic herb vinaigrette

Second Course (Entrée):

turkey with bacon on top
squash cornbread stuffing
whole wheat lentil stuffing
sweet potato casserole
green beans seasoned with garlic and butter
twice baked potato casserole with bacon bits
cranberry sauce
freshly baked hard rolls

Third Course (Dessert!):

apple pie
pumpkin pie
banana bread
caramel apple cake

I didn't even think that I was eating that much, and after we had finished eating, my host (who knows that I love to eat) asked me if I had had enough. I thought about it for a moment, and replied that I was only slightly stuffed. I added that I was able to eat more, but then I would have been really stuffed. In retrospect, I suppose that it makes sense that even though I didn't think that I was eating that much, I still wound up being slightly stuffed. I was only eating the equivalent of one full plate, followed by a sampling of three of the four desserts (I didn't realize that there was any banana bread, or I would've tried that, too). But I rarely eat that much at once here in Morocco. So even though it was less than I usually ate on Thanksgiving Day in the US in past years, it was a greater quantity of food than I usually eat during any particular meal here in Morocco.

There was plenty of food! I certainly appreciated the delicious cooking. I thanked my friends for it. When I said grace before we chowed down in earnest, I thanked God for the delicious food. I also thanked God for the wonderful people who had prepared all of the food, and for the other wonderful people there with us. Immediately before our Thanksgiving celebration, I'd had a stretch of a few weeks where I didn't see any other PCVs (or any other expats at all), so it was nice to get to see them all.

That night, we settled down in beds and sleeping bags for our slumber. I was spending the night in a room that was maybe slightly smaller than 9 feet by 9 feet with 5 other PCVs. At one point, another PCV and I were reading as others were already dozing off. A few minutes after she finished reading and rolled over, I turned off the light and settled down for the night. By the dim light of a streetlamp filtering in through the small window high above us, I discerned the rough shapes of my fellow volunteers under landscapes of sleeping bags, sheets and blankets, as they unconsciously comforted me by reminding me of their presence through their sonorous respiration like bullfrogs croaking in a moonlit marsh, a pleasant chorus of reassurance which gradually lulled me to sleep.

Prioritizing

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Case of Mistaken Currency

I have been greatly blessed to have received many care packages from loved ones since I started living here in my town ten months ago. People who know me know that I have a sweet tooth. Loved ones have sent me chocolate chip cookies and brownies that they have baked, as well as Paul Newman Oreos and Trader Joe's Oreos they have bought for me and sent to me.

I've also traveled a lot in the last ten months, so the sweets I've received in care packages have lasted even longer, since I wasn't eating them when I wasn't at home. While traveling, I've eaten a lot of desserts from patisseries (French for "bakeries") as well as from "supermarchés" (smaller supermarkets).

Consequently, over the last ten months, I've had only brief periods where I didn't have a stash of sweets at home. Recently I finally exhausted the last few Trader Joe's Oreos which my sister-in-law graciously bought for me when I was back in the states this summer. Still I had, and still have, a box of Christmas candy which a former co-worker sent to me! Yet I feel that at this point, I should save that until December, so I can eat it at a more appropriate time of year.

Thus it recently came to be that I didn't have any sweets at home which I was going to eat. It was in this context that a couple of days ago, I stopped by this bakery here in my town. I told the man behind the counter that I wanted to spend twenty. He replied that that sum would get me hardly any cookies. I figured that he was charging me much more than he would charge Moroccans, so I told him that I would rather not get any cookies, and I left his shop disgruntled.

A little later, I asked myself if perhaps he was not trying to overcharge me, but if perhaps instead I had misunderstood him. It occurred to me that maybe he and I were thinking in different units of currency.

In Morocco, the standard unit of currency is the dirham. However, Moroccans also state prices in riyals. Here's how it works: stick with me. One dirham equals 100 centimes. One riyal is 5 centimes. So one dirham equals 20 riyals. So if he thought I only wanted to spend 20 riyals, that would mean he thought I only wanted to spend one dirham, which only would have been enough to buy about one cookie.

PCVs in Morocco often find themselves confused, especially in their first few months in Morocco, when prices are quoted to them in riyals, and, I contend, with good reason. The amount in riyals does not appear on any unit of Moroccan currency. Thus PCVs often find themselves having to convert from riyals to dirhams in their heads as they stand at a shop trying to buy something.

Usually it's obvious when a shopkeeper quotes a price to me in riyals. It's usually in the hundreds rather than 5, 10 or thereabouts. I'm tipped off by the huge difference between the figure he has given me and the amount I expected it to cost in dirhams. I then set about doing the math in my head to convert from riyals to dirhams.

However, standing in the bakery, it just didn't occur to me that he was thinking in dirhams. If I had indicated with my hands the volume of cookies I wanted to buy, then he would have quoted me a price. Since he didn't quote me a price, I had no figure to compare with what I had been expecting to pay.

It was only later that it occurred to me that perhaps he had been thinking in riyals. Yesterday, I decided to go back to test my theory. This time I happened to enter the shop with Stan, the other PCV who also lives in my town. When we entered the shop, the baker offered us a free sample cookie each, somewhat akin to a Madeleine cookie in the U.S. As soon as we had finished those sample cookies, he offered each of us a second sample cookie, each of which had ground nuts sprinkled on top. I bought a bag of cookies which cost twenty dirhams, which contained perhaps twenty cookies. I left the shop happy that I had gone back to give interacting with him a second try, happy to be giving business to a local vendor.

I think that I confirmed my hypothesis which I had developed after having left the shop the previous day, that it seemed that he had been thinking in riyals rather than in dirhams. During PST (Pre-Service Training) during my first couple of months in Morocco, Peace Corps staff directed us PCVs to develop hypotheses about why certain things happen here in Morocco. I received reinforcement of the wisdom of this approach from my trips to the bakery. It's important not just to develop the hypotheses, but also to gather the data which confirm or disprove the hypotheses. Otherwise you might be missing out. On more than just some delicious cookies. Also on the chance to learn more, and understand more, about another culture, and the people who live in it.

Moroccan Hospitality to the Rescue

Recently I headed out in the late morning, as I usually do, to buy some bread to make a sandwich for myself for lunch, and to go to a cyber. However, given that Ramadan had just ended in the last couple of days, all of the shops were closed.

Though there were a few people milling about, there were far fewer people out and about than usual. Given that I had very little food at home, and definitely no bread, I figured that I was probably going to be missing lunch. I tried to shrug it off, and, thinking that I could at least try to do something, I started off toward an apartment building I know to try to find out if there were any available apartments in it on behalf of Stan, the new PCV living in my town.

Soon after I turned onto the road toward that apartment building, I saw a fellow who lives here in town who is always friendly and welcoming to me. He invited me to come to his home for lunch. I was glad to accept, not only because I was hungry and didn't have much to eat at home, but also because he had invited me to his home months earlier, at times which weren't convenient for me.

So, I was happy to finally accept one of his invitations, and I turned around and started walking with him to his home. Right after we crossed one of the main streets here in town, he walked up to a group of men, some of whom were sitting on the curb, others in a car next to the curb, who were there talking. Given that typically in Morocco, if as a guy you're walking with another guy, and he starts talking with people, he shakes the hand of every guy there, and you do the same, even if you don't know them, even if he doesn't introduce you, and even if you think you're never going to see them again. So, once he had started shaking their hands, I did the same. After his very brief conversation with them, we continued on to his home.

We completed the short walk to his home very quickly, and proceeded up to the top floor, the third floor of the building. He immediately brought out some tea (which, here in Morocco, typically contains a lot of sugar) and removed the knit towel which was resting over the large plate holding a variety of cookies in front of us. When I finished my glass of tea, he asked me if I wanted more, which I did. More than once he told me to eat more cookies. He again offered me more tea, but I declined more tea at that point. Moroccans always encourage their house guests to eat and drink!

After we had had some tea and cookies, we continued watching TV. At one point, we were watching either a TV show or a movie which featured an actress who, I'm pretty sure, was Jennifer Lopez. They hadn't dubbed over the original English dialogue; rather, it had Arabic subtitles. So, I understood when I heard J. Lo's character tell her fellow character, "Change your shirt; you smell like dog," whereas my host laughed and repeated to me in Darija what she had just said, because he had just read it. I responded to him, in Darija, "Yeah, she didn't like that." When the two characters started slow dancing with their arms draped over each other in a bar in the next scene, my host changed the channel, about which I felt little regret.

Then I was more excited to get to see a little of a special on National Geographic Abu Dhabi which was set in Yosemite National Park. Although I understood very little of what was being said in that program, which was in Arabic, of course I could tell that they were observing small frogs in the water there in the park. And, toward the end of the program, I enjoyed seeing some footage showing some wide vistas in the park, which I especially appreciated having visited there and hiked there over a dozen times.

After my host and I had been watching TV for a while, he brought a large teapot and a type of water basin into the room. As typically done right before a meal in someone's home in Morocco, I placed my hands over the basin and he poured slightly warm water over my hands. When I told him "safi," meaning that he had poured enough water over my hands, he then handed me a towel to dry my hands.

He then brought in a tajine of chicken and olives, sitting in the juice of the chicken, and covered with French fries. He had also just brought in some bread (large, round, flat bread), from which we broke off small pieces, and which we used to dip in the juices of the tajine, and also used to grab olives, pieces of chicken, and French fries. We also used just our fingers to pick fries off the top of the chicken, which, incidentally, was a whole chicken, as is usual in a chicken tajine. (Each of us ate with the right hand; in Morocco, it is understood that the left hand is reserved for hygienic uses). Towards the end of the meal, he encouraged me to keep eating, but I didn't want to make myself uncomfortably full, so I told him I had had enough.

Also, I saw a plate of fruit which was waiting for us, so I left some room for that dessert. We enjoyed some melon and grapes for dessert.

Soon after we had finished dessert, he brought the teapot of warm water and the basin back into the room, and I again washed my hands. Soon thereafter, I then happily left his home, thanking him repeatedly, grateful for his generosity and hospitality which had saved me from being hungry for the afternoon.

Come, Sit, Eat Again

My first full day back in my town here down south, I went to the home of a wonderful family. While I always enjoy going to their home to visit them, on this particular visit, I went there to introduce myself to Stan, another PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who arrived here and started staying with them during my recent travels.

He was an Environment PCV before coming to live here in my town. However, when they transferred Stan to my town, they transferred him into the YD (Youth Development) sector, so now he's a YD PCV, just like me. But, having done extensive environmental work back in the states, he'll likely do a good deal of environmental work here in our town.

I'm happy that Stan is here. He is a very nice guy, very soft-spoken, and very considerate. He's an elderly fellow; in fact, I often joke around with him and other PCVs that he resembles the elderly Obi-Wan Kenobi, as portrayed by Sir Alec Guinness, from the first three Star Wars films which were made.

So, I went to his host family's home to meet him. I wanted to show him where I live, so that he would be able to stop by whenever he wanted. Conscious of how it was then very late in the afternoon, and thus getting very close to when the family would be eating "ftur," or the meal which Moroccans eat at dusk to break their fast, I told his host sister, "He'll be back in time to eat ftur with all of you." She responded with what could best be described as unrestrained incredulity. In total disbelief and confusion, she didn't hesitate as she instantly asked, shocked, "And you?! You're coming back to eat ftur with us, right?!" In her reaction, she showed how, once you are invited to a Moroccan's home, they are very hospitable, in contrast to how when you are in public and you encounter a Moroccan you don't know. And, in this case, even though I just happened to drop by unannounced, and even though I was about to leave, I was expected to come back to eat with them.

So, I brought Stan to my apartment so he would know where to find me. We didn't hang out at my place very long, though, because ftur was going to be very soon. So we turned around and made the short walk, perhaps 5 minutes, back to his host family's home.

At some point after having the light meal, which we ate just after 7 p.m., I got up to leave. Stan's host mother was surprised. She told me, "You're not leaving; you have to stay for dinner." So I sat back down and continued watching TV with them.

Significantly later in the evening, certainly after 10 p.m., they brought out a tajine (a word in Darija which stands not only for a Moroccan stew, but also the clay container which holds it). The tajine consists of vegetables on top of any of various kinds of meat. In the last week or so, at their house, we've been eating tajine with goat meat in it. Stan told me that they recently slaughtered a goat. One eats the tajine by breaking off pieces of bread (large, round, flat bread) and using the bread to grab pieces of vegetable and meat for oneself out of the communal tajine. After eating the tajine, we've been eating fruit for dessert, which is common to have for dessert after dinner in Morocco. One night, we ate some muskmelon, which I especially enjoy. Other nights, we've had grapes for dessert.

So, it has been nice to experience their hospitality, as always. It's also been nice that the heat has started to abate since I arrived back in town. It has only helped, in terms of the heat, that we have been getting some rain in the last week or so. Sometimes it's only been a few brief drops. However, the other day when I was here in the cyber on the Internet, it started raining pretty hard, complete with thunder, and presumably lightning, but I didn't see it, since I was inside.

The other day I took Stan to the top of this hill here in town to show him this amazing view of a mountain here in my town, with the palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees, in the foreground. Soon after we started walking down the road from the top of the hill, it started raining, and not lightly, either. We started walking more quickly. Remembering the substantial downpour we had recently had, and looking up at the ominous color of the sky, I opined, "I don't think that this is going to be one of those extremely brief showers. We started walking even more quickly, only to observe a few seconds later that the rain was lessening. And then a few seconds later, we started chuckling as the rain had petered out to a few isolated drops. And then very soon thereafter, it stopped altogether.

While I've been grateful for Stan's company, I must admit that I started feeling down in the last week, from missing my family and my friends and life back in the USA. And a couple of days before I started feeling a little down, I really had honestly told my mom that I was feeling pretty good, considering how there is little work to do right now since the Dar Chebab (youth center) is closed right now over the summer. I've been reading a lot during the copious spare time I've had lately. But in the midst of all the spare time, despite my enjoying the huge amount of reading I've been doing, a little undercurrent of homesickness had crept up within me since I had sent that e-mail to her.

Faced with this most recent wave of challenging emotion, I thought it only appropriate to follow my own advice. Consequently, I acknowledged my feelings to myself at the time, and almost immediately I felt better about it. Just in deciding to be conscious about how I felt, and to confront how I was feeling, I took a small, yet nevertheless major, significant, and powerful step in favor of my own well-being. In essence, I was glad that I had taken care of myself! And knowing that I have to be consciously strategic and mindful of how I respond to my own personal challenges, and how I should follow my own advice, I decided to air my feelings by blogging about my recent emotional challenge. And, it also seemed appropriate to respond to this challenge by blogging about it, since in doing so, I am sharing with others how I had dealt effectively with it, which might, in turn, help them to cope with challenges.

In that vein, of trying to help, I had also come to a similar conclusion in the preceding several weeks. It had occurred to me that it may appear like I've been complaining about various aspects of my life here in Morocco since I arrived back here in Morocco from my trip to the states last month. I decided at some point in the last few months that I had to start being more expansive than I had been in my blog, that I had to stop censoring myself as much as I had been in my previous blog entries.

Why, you might ask, had I been censoring myself somewhat? Because I didn't want to be focusing on the aspects of life here in Morocco which are not my favorite parts of my experience here. I dealt with them without blogging about them, so as to try to remain positive on the blog.

And then at a certain point, I thought, "I am not giving people back in the USA an accurate, true picture of Morocco. In fact, I might potentially be misleading people who are currently applying to the Peace Corps, and who might end up as PCVs in Morocco." So, I am now consciously writing about aspects of life in Morocco which may seem to irritate me. While they may at times seem to be things which had not previously been problematic for me, oftentimes I am writing about phenomena which at times have irked me for much of the time I've been living here.

When I choose to let them irritate me, that is. I've been trying to not let things annoy me, and instead to remind myself that God wants us to love each other, and not focus on petty things which are ultimately not important in any way whatsoever.

I thus hope to share a helpful perspective by blogging about such challenges. Over time, I have been learning to deal with such challenges. And in dealing with them, and in sharing how I deal with them, perhaps I can help other PCVs.

Summer Camp 2011

For ten days spread between the end of last month and the beginning of this month, I was at Summer Camp here in Morocco. Moroccan kids end their academic year in June, and they're off from school until September, so during the summer, Moroccan kids go to camps to learn English and do extracurricular activities, sometimes in their own towns, and sometimes far from where they live. At this particular Summer Camp where I was, the vast majority of the kids did not live in the area in which the camp was held. The kids who attended this summer camp, who were in their early and intermediate teenage years, traveled from various parts of Morocco to attend this particular Summer Camp.

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

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

The Moroccan Ministry of Youth and Sport runs Summer Camp, just like it runs Spring Camp. PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) help to conduct activities at Summer Camp, just like at Spring Camp. PCVs serving in various regions of Morocco worked at this particular Summer Camp.

On the day our Summer Camp started, I was one of the PCVs conducting LPIs (language proficiency interviews) in English of the campers who were arriving at camp that day. I began to interview some campers who, I quickly learned, did not know any English. I asked them basic questions like "How are you?" and "Where are you from?" but some of them could not answer them. I also held up some of my fingers a few times and asked them what numbers they were, but they didn't know. However, I also interviewed students at many other levels of English speaking proficiency, including one exceptional student who was probably just one stage or two shy of being fluent in English.

Once we had the results of the LPIs, the two PCVs (one first-year PCV and a second-year PCV) who were coordinating our activities as PCVs at the camp, divided up the students into six levels of English classes according to their ability to speak English. Some of us PCVs then taught English for the next six days of camp. I was assigned with another PCV to teach the second lowest level English class. However, we taught much of our class time teaching the present continuous tense. So, we taught the students in our class how to form and say sentences like "I am studying English."

After having a modest breakfast of coffee, milk, bread and jam with the campers, and then teaching the students English for an hour and a half in the morning, on some of the earlier days of camp, some of the other PCVs and the Moroccan staff took the campers to the beach in the late morning and returned in the early afternoon. The camp was so close to the beach that they walked to the beach.

On each day of the camp, we PCVs ate lunch with the campers at the facility where the camp was being held. At lunch, we usually ate salad, some meat which was usually chicken or beef, and, of course, bread. There's always bread at a Moroccan meal.

In the afternoons, we PCVs we also ran clubs for the campers. Other PCVs ran a theatre club, a music and dance club, a sports club, and a country club, where campers learned about foreign countries.

Another PCV, Kristen, and I ran a creative writing club, where we taught campers basic writing activities like writing letters, brief biographical descriptions of people, and poetry. One day during the creative writing club, I discussed humor with the campers in the club and what makes jokes funny in the USA. I was impressed at the jokes which the students wrote.

In addition to teaching English and running clubs, as PCVs, we were also trying to monitor and direct the campers' behavior by assigning them to five different teams named after foreign countries. Campers lost and won points for their teams based on what they did. Campers lost points for their team if they threw trash on the ground, swore, talked to each other in class, and otherwise disruptively behaved. Campers won points for their teams if they picked up garbage, correctly answered questions in class, read a book and summarized it for us, and otherwise constructively behaved. Campers had one such opportunity to earn points in the afternoon, during library time, when they sat and read books in the library and then summarized them for us, sometimes orally, and sometimes in writing; sometimes in Arabic, and sometimes in English. At the end of the camp, the team with the most points won prize bags containing short books and food.

Later in the day after club time, we PCVs also ate dinner with the campers. At camp, dinner usually consisted first of harira, Darija for "soup," followed by some kind of meat and bread. For dessert after dinner, sometimes we ate fruit, and sometimes we ate yogurt.

After dinner, each night, the campers performed in talent shows. Typically the kids danced and sang in the talent shows.

After each evening's talent show, we turned in for the night. As PCVs, we slept at the same facility as the campers. However, we slept in a different building from the campers.

One afternoon, some of us PCVs and the Moroccan staff took the kids to a nearby town and walked through the medina, or the old part of the town, with its narrow, winding streets. Given that some of the students at camp were poor and thus had probably not traveled much, I was glad that we showed them a little more of the region in which camp was held, since some of them had likely never previously been to that region of Morocco.

On the second to the last full day of camp, those of us PCVs who had conducted LPIs (language proficiency interviews) at the beginning of camp again interviewed campers to re-assess their proficiency in understanding and speaking English. I was pleased to see that a significant percentage of campers had improved in understanding and speaking English. Almost all of the ones I interviewed on the first day of camp who didn't understand any English had clearly become able to understand and speak basic phrases. Although I wasn't one of the teachers who had instructed them, I nevertheless found it hugely fulfilling and satisfying to be interviewing those students, and witnessing their progress in learning English.

On the last full day of the camp, we PCVs held an English Olympiad in which the campers participated. Each pair of PCVs who taught English class together over the previous six days ran a station at which we quizzed campers on what we taught during our particular English class. However, each camper only attended the same English class over the previous six days, so some campers were much more likely to be able to answer particular questions during the English Olympiad than other campers who had not attended the English classes in which particular material had been taught.

During the second half of this Summer Camp, we operated under an altered schedule because Ramadan started halfway through our camp. Many campers and Moroccan staff were fasting, so that they were not eating or drinking between sunrise and sunset. As a result, we started our days at camp during Ramadan at 12:30pm. Breakfast and lunch were not served. At around 7:30pm, when those fasting broke fast, all of us ate together in the dining room at the facility where we were all staying. This meal, "ftur," in Darija, consisted of harira, dates, "helwa shbakiya," Darija for a specific Moroccan sweet served during Ramadan, hard-boiled eggs, orange juice, coffee, milk, bread and jam. Around midnight, we ate a meal just before turning in for the night which closely resembled what we had been eating for lunch before Ramadan started. When the kitchen staff served us this midnight meal, they also gave us bags containing yogurt, bread, cheese, and sometimes cookies, all of which was for those fasting to eat just before dawn.

I feel that I should state here that I am not fasting during Ramadan because I don't want people to think I'm Muslim. I don't want people to think I'm considering becoming a Muslim. And I don't want to implicitly encourage others to be Muslim; if I were to fast during Ramadan, at least some, if not all, people would think that I'm Muslim, and that I want others to be Muslim. I do not want any of these things to happen, because I do not agree with basic statements in Islam. Islam states that Jesus did not die on the cross. Since I disagree strongly with this statement in Islam, I don't want people to think I'm Muslim, I don't want people to think I'm considering becoming Muslim, and I don't want to implicitly encourage others to become Muslim. For these reasons, I am not fasting during Ramadan.

Spring Camp 2011

Last week, I was very far north in Morocco for Spring Camp, which ran for most of the week. Moroccan kids have the week off from school, so they go to camps all over Morocco to learn more English and to engage in various extracurricular activities. At this particular camp where I was, most of the kids were in their late teenage years. The vast majority of kids who attended this camp came from the city in which this camp was held, or from the immediately surrounding area.

While it was a camp, it was located in a small city. Taxis run regularly on the street where the camp was held. Grocery stores and cafes are within a block of where the camp was held. So, the camp was held in an urban area.

The camps are run by the Moroccan Ministry of Youth and Sports. As PCVs we help to conduct activities at the camps. In addition to me, there was another YD (Youth Development) PCV at the camp. He's in his second year of his Peace Corps service. He coordinated PCV activities at the camp. There was also a SBD (Small Business Development) PCV, who's in his second year of Peace Corps service, at the camp. There was also an Environment PCV, who is in her first year of Peace Corps service, at the camp. We all traveled from our own separate respective towns further south in Morocco to work at this camp in northern Morocco.

At Spring Camp, the kids wake up between 7am and 8am. Breakfast is served at the camp a little after 8am. Typically it's tea and coffee, milk, with some bread, perhaps accompanied by butter, apricot jam, olive oil, and cheese.

For about an hour and a half in the morning, the kids attend English class. In my camp, there were three different levels of English classes. The PCV coordinating the camp, who is in his second year of Peace Corps service, assigned me to teach the beginners' class. I found it a little challenging to teach this class because some of these kids knew almost no English, whereas others knew more English. I employed the tactic of teaching the basics while simultaneously throwing in words and phrases closely related to the topic at hand which even the more knowledgeable students would not have been likely to know. For example, one day I was teaching the students how to tell the time in English. While I taught them how to say "7:30," I told them also of the phrase "half past." Similarly, while I was teaching them the phrase "Good morning," I explained to them that sometimes they might hear people just say "Morning" when they mean "Good morning."

After English class, the kids played sports for an hour or so. One day the other PCVs and I played soccer with the kids, which was fun.

In the early afternoon, we PCVs and the kids ate lunch together. For lunch, we often ate salad, followed by a tajine, which is like a Moroccan stew. Usually when we eat tajine here in Morocco, we eat it out of one big communal tajine bowl or very large dish. We rip pieces of bread and use the pieces of bread to dip into the tajine sauce, and to grab vegetables or meat from the communal dish. From time to time, French fries rest on top of meat in a tajine. We use bread to pick fries off the top of the tajine as well.

After lunch, there is a little bit of time, anywhere from a half hour to two hours, to nap. We had more time to nap if lunch started earlier; if lunch started later, then we had less time to nap.

In the middle of the afternoon into the late afternoon, we PCVs ran clubs for the kids. One of the other PCVs ran a club involving leadership and team building activities. Another PCV ran a dance club. I ran an Environment club. So, I taught the kids some basic concepts about the environment, and why it's important to protect the environment. I taught them, and tested them on, basic vocabulary relating to the environment. Then they made posters representing why we should respect the environment. Near the end of club time each day, some of the kids did short presentations in which they explained why we have to take care of the environment.

In the late afternoon, the kids also participated in activities run by some of the Moroccan staff running the camp. For example, one day the kids went on a treasure hunt on the grounds of the camp.

On another day, some guest musicians came to the camp and performed for us. Soon after the musicians started performing, most of the kids got up and started dancing and clapping in time to the music.

After these late afternoon and early evening activities, we, the PCVs and the kids, ate dinner together. For dinner, first we always ate harira, which is a type of Moroccan soup which contains chickpeas, among other things. Sometimes after the harira, we ate Spanish omelettes (keep in mind that this camp was so far north in Morocco, and therefore so close to Spain, that particular aspects of Spanish culture are present in that area). On another night, for dinner after harira, we ate angel hair pasta which was sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon. Sometimes after dinner, we ate yogurt for dessert.

In addition to these activities I've already mentioned, we PCVs also spent time just sitting and talking with the kids about various topics, including the USA. At one point, I was explaining to some of the kids that not everyone in the USA sounds similar when they speak. Given my appreciation of the various accents people in the USA have when speaking, I was enjoying explaining and describing and demonstrating some of the accents of people in the USA. At another point, I was showing them my passports, and explaining to them places and events in US history. While we were looking at a drawing of Mount Rushmore that's on one of the pages of my passport, I was explaining where in the US it is, and which US presidents are represented there. While we were looking at other pages of my passport, I was explaining to them that July 4 is Independence Day in the USA.

One night after dinner, the other PCVs and I held a trivia contest for the kids. We wrote questions in the categories of US culture and Moroccan culture. We also wrote questions testing them on what they had learned in the English classes we taught them. We additionally wrote questions testing them on what we had taught them during the clubs we held for them.

For example, we asked them, "Which country was the first to recognize the US?" We were surprised that both teams got the question wrong, given that the answer was Morocco. Also, neither team correctly guessed the number of stars on the American flag. However, they both knew that the Mississippi River is the longest river in the USA. We also asked them from which country the current US president's father came; one of the teams knew that he was Kenyan.

The kids were fiercely competitive. I so enjoyed watching the kids at that trivia competition, largely because they were so excited about it. When we announced which team won the contest, the winning team erupted into loud, raucous cheering. I felt bad for the kids who didn't win. They looked so dejected.

The last night of the camp, and the following morning, the kids shed many tears. I too was sad at the impending farewells. Yet I also felt encouraged. As with certain kids in my town down south, I love seeing, teaching and speaking with kids who are motivated to learn and who apply themselves.

But at this camp, I was even more pleased, because of conversations I had with some youths there. This one especially motivated youth, who is perhaps 18 years old, told me that he sees kids who are addicted to hard drugs. He added that he also sees others who aren't. He went on, "I teach them a little English, a little Arabic, a little French. And that makes me feel good." I replied to him, "Yes, it feels good to help others." I continued, saying roughly, "I think that this is part of the meaning of life: to help others." I didn't expect to have a conversation like this at camp, but was so pleased that I did.

I had been looking forward to Spring Camp. I had been expecting to enjoy Spring Camp. I just didn't expect to enjoy Spring Camp as much as I did. I'm looking forward to Summer Camp.

Double Rainbow

So, to pick up where I left off in my last blog entry and to say a little more about the weekend on which I posted my last blog entry: I was away from my town for some training in another village which is a couple of hours away from my town. There were a dozen other PCVs at the training.

On one of the afternoons of the training, one PCV said that the moudir (director) of her Dar Chebab (youth center) had invited us over to his and his wife's house for kaskroute, or afternoon snack. Moroccans are quite hospitable, and certainly magnanimous with their hospitality. So, we went over to their home for kaskroute.

In addition to tea and coffee, some of the offerings included home-made doughnuts. Since some of you might be curious what the doughnuts, or shfinj, were like, if you think of the texture of the kind of doughnut in the USA which has a hole in the middle and which is powdered, they were of that texture, but without the powder. There were also some baked goods which seemed to be a little like brownies.

In addition to enjoying our hosts' hospitality, and the food, I also was enjoying how my fellow PCV's moudir was playing his guitar for us. Among other things, he played some Bob Marley for us, which was fun to hear.

When we emerged from their home, we were delighted to see a double rainbow. I only remember having seen one once before, in or near Yellowstone National Park, so I was happy to see that double rainbow earlier this month.

Upon arriving back in my town, I barely had enough time to shower, change my clothes and eat a very late lunch before I went to my Dar Chebab to tutor someone in English in one of my regularly scheduled sessions. He's actually a teacher of Arabic. Since he asked me to tutor him in English, I have been tutoring him twice a week. I find it very satisfying, as he is very attentive, and takes a lot of notes, and asks me questions, and comes up with new sentences to test his understanding of English.

It could be that I didn't feel down upon arriving back in my site because I immediately got to work. And, more than just getting straight to work, I immediately set out to helping someone. I have often found that when I feel down, I often feel better after helping someone else.

However, I can say, now that a couple more weeks have passed, that I also am just feeling more comfortable. I feel that I am coping better with being away from family and friends in the USA. And I feel more comfortable not being in the USA, being in a foreign country, in a foreign culture, being in Morocco, and living in my town. I'm here. I live here. This is where I'm living my life. And I'm enjoying helping people here. I'm happy doing this work.

I'm appreciating actually seeing and hearing Moroccans express themselves about what is important to them, instead of just reading about it. I was teaching an English class earlier this month about family trees. When I was teaching the students the words "aunt," "uncle," and "cousin," one of them incredulously asked me in Arabic, "What?! If I want to tell someone about my Emmi, Emmti, xali, or xalti, what am I going to say?"

(In Morocco, in Darija, speakers say "Emmi" for "my father's brother," and "xali" for "my mother's brother," whereas in English we say "uncle" for both of these people. In Morocco, in Darija, speakers say "Emmti" for "my father's sister," and "xalti" for "my mother's sister," whereas in English we use the word "aunt" for both of these people. In Morocco, there are multiple phrases for cousin, namely "wld Emmi," for "son of my father's brother," and "bnt xalti," for "daughter of my mother's sister." Through this greater vocabulary regarding family, you see that Moroccans place a high value on family. Islam plays a prominent role in leading Moroccans to value family; for example, Islam provides that children should take care of their elderly parents.)

I told the students that if one of them wants to tell a person that someone is his or her "wld xali," for example, he or she could say that that person is the son of his or her mother's brother. And then I added that in English, we typically just use the word cousin.

So while I was teaching English to the kids, we were actually teaching each other about our respective cultures. This little story, I believe, reflects how PCVs not only have different roles to play, among them both teacher and student (that is, that as PCVs we not only have things to teach, but also to learn), but also how we often end up quickly shifting between these roles. To phrase it differently, while the "first goal" of the Peace Corps is to "help the people of developing nations meet their need for trained men and women," in the process of doing exactly such work, simultaneously PCVs also often inextricably work on the second and third goals of the Peace Corps. That is, while PCVs are helping to train host country nationals, PCVs often at the very same time help them better understand US citizens and also gain a better understanding of those same host country nationals.

Not wanting to stay too theoretical, however, I sometimes deliberately try not to be too wrapped up in my own thoughts, so that I focus on my interactions with others, and open to what may come along. Yesterday on my way here to the cyber where I check and send e-mail around the corner from my apartment, a couple of the kids who play soccer on my dirt road where I live, called to me after I had passed them. I spontaneously played a little soccer with them, which was fun. I was a little amused by how one of the kids reacted with approval when I blocked the ball he had vigorously kicked to me.

To continue on, and to close on, a lighter note, yesterday I was amused for various reasons about how, during a tutoring session, I was teaching my student the difference in pronunciation between "dessert" and "desert." Of course, I was amused partly because we live in the Sahara Desert here. But also, I found it appropriate that I was educating on this point, because there is no paucity of sweets here in Morocco! And lastly, I was enjoying teaching on this point, because I myself love dessert, as those who know me well can testify.

Holidays

So this is a time of year with some holidays... Islamic New Year, Christmas, and New Year in the Gregorian calendar, among other holidays this time of year.

The Islamic New Year starts on the first day of Muharram, the first month in the Islamic calendar. The Islamic calendar started with the year in which Mohammed took flight, in a journey known as the Hijra. In that first year in the Islamic calendar, when he learned that someone was planning to assassinate him, Mohammed fled from the city of Mecca to what is now known as the city of Medina. Moroccans celebrate the first day of the Islamic New Year as a holiday, such that some businesses are closed, as I experienced here in town.

And, Christmas was this month. PCVs are not allowed to take vacation during the first three months of their service. My service as a PCV started when I swore in as a PCV in late November. So, I was not able to go home for Christmas. But through the postal mail, I have been showered with various and great gifts, largely varied desserts, as people who know me know that I have a sweet tooth! Partly due to receiving care packages at Christmastime, I feel really encouraged by folks back home. But throughout all of my time thus far in Morocco, I have also felt really supported, partly and importantly by being in regular communication with people I know back in the USA, largely by e-mail, and also through communications in the postal mail.

In terms of work, I have been tutoring kids in English at the Dar Chebab more and more. While it started as a small affair, with just a couple of kids at a time, it has quickly grown to be a large group of students I've been tutoring. I've been enjoying helping them. I tutor them in the early evenings on most of the days when the Dar Chebab is open, which are Tuesdays through Saturdays.

Next month, I'll start actually teaching English at the Dar Chebab. Given how much I've been enjoying tutoring kids in English, I'm looking forward to teaching kids in English. Since I've started tutoring kids in English, I've felt more grounded and invested and involved in the community. I also feel fulfilled by the work that I'm doing now. And, while I have had more rough patches, they have become less trying and difficult than the first one I had in the first few days after arriving down here at my final site. So, things are starting to take off, for which I am glad!