Poor Thing

At the end of the week, whether it's here in Morocco, or back in the US, I'm often ready to decompress. Sounds pretty normal. Except that when you're in a foreign country, the concepts of personal space might make it more complicated to relax than it would be back in the states. Every country has its own customs on how much time people spend with each other. Here in Morocco, when a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) wants to be alone, perhaps in order to rest and rejuvenate, Moroccans often don't understand.

Soon after I had first started living in this town down here in the Sahara, one of the boys who frequents the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center," where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV here in Morocco), expressed his concern to me about how I live alone. He said to me in English, "You go home, and you are by yourself. This is very bad."

Here in Morocco, one's family is central to one's identity. Typically Moroccans live with their families until they get married, unless someone gets a job far away from one's family, perhaps as a teacher. Indeed, often a Moroccan continues to live with his or her family once he or she gets married. In such a case, his or her spouse is welcomed into the family not just with warm gestures and platitudes, but is further, literally welcomed into the home as he or she starts living there.

If one lives alone, at times one is called "meskeen," which, in Darija, means "poor thing." It was in this context that the boy from the dar chebab was expressing his concern for what he saw as my unfortunate plight of living by myself. I had a hard time trying to convince him that I was glad to be living alone. Facing the psychological challenges of life in a foreign country, I'm glad to go home and escape for a little while!

Living here in Morocco, I face challenges which many PCVs face, not only here in this country, but in other foreign countries. Even at this relatively late stage in my Peace Corps service, in my everyday life I encounter a lot of stimuli which still seem foreign to me. I certainly don't understand a lot of what's said during conversations. In many other ways, the modes of operation here are not only not the ones to which I was originally accustomed; furthermore, they're ones which still don't come naturally to me. When I'm trying to have a conversation with someone, and someone else arrives and interrupts, it still seems disruptive to me, and jarring. While I've adjusted somewhat to the lack of lines, including when I go to shop at corner stores, I'm still not entirely used to the practice of an unstructured mass of people waiting to be served at a store. So all of these customs can get to be a bit much to process at times. Of course, they don't seem that way to Moroccans. To them, it would be better to use the term cultural norms: such behavior is normal, and therefore not a source of stress for them. Thus with this gap of how acculturated they are to life here, as opposed to how unadjusted I am, one can start to better appreciate why they might not realize how life here can be difficult.

Thus at times here, as is often the case for me when I'm in the US, I feel that I have to recharge. To do so, sometimes I feel like I need to retreat into solitude. Or at least I need to be with people who aren't going to be too demanding of me in various ways, who won't be expecting me to make a lot of conversation with them, who perhaps will be OK with me being alone in the next room for a little while, who are comfortable separately and quietly doing our own activities in the same room for part of the day. Sometimes I feel that I just need to gather my thoughts without being asked to engage someone else.

I could go on, but I think that you get the idea. Sometimes it all gets to be a bit much, and I feel like I have to retreat.

However, I don't think that I take a better approach to spending time with people than Moroccans do. Sometimes I just happen to need a little time by myself, or at least with a little less social stimulation. It's just a personal need I have, and in taking some personal space at times, I don't intend to be implicitly making a value judgment on Moroccan culture. Rather, as I think about the matter of personal space, which leads me to think about the importance of family, I feel that I have some things to learn from Moroccans. In the US, often people don't take care of their family members, and even fall out of touch with them. Here people seem to cherish their family members. Perhaps one of the ways I can learn from life here in Morocco is how Moroccans value family as highly as they do.

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.

Lights Out: My Darkest Hours as a PCV

Over the rest of the weekend on which I wrote my last blog entry, I went on a great hike to the top of a butte, with my friend and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) Ben, in his site, less than 100 kilometers from my town. Our hike was similar to the hike I did in my site earlier this month, which I mentioned in my last blog entry. When we did the hike in his site, we had panoramic views of his town and the surrounding palmeries, or groves of palm trees there. Of course it was a good weekend, as we shared organic Oreos and discussed traveling each of us hopes to do in the future. I always enjoy the camaraderie of fellow PCVs. The next day, before I left, we had lunch in the palmerie. Like me, he lives just a couple blocks from a palmerie, which is essentially the equivalent of a huge, serene park.

The following weekend, which is now last weekend, I enjoyed the company of a dozen other PCVs for sessions in which we discussed future volunteer activities. And, of course, we had some time for fun, too! That night in that city, we went dancing at a nightclub. I delighted in dancing to songs by Michael Jackson and James Brown. As we were tearing up the dance floor, I asked my fellow PCVs, "Are we really in the Peace Corps???"

Then most of us, me included, left the city on Sunday last weekend. And while I anticipated a dip in my mood after such a fun--and social--weekend, I did not guard sufficiently against such a challenging decline in my spirits. Consequently, as the week wore on, despair crept into my being, and began to grow like a tumor.

As early as Wednesday the 28th, I was in dire emotional straits. One of my best friends in the U.S. had coincidentally just told me over e-mail that she wanted to talk with me on the phone. So, we spoke that night. Unsurprisingly, I felt better after I had talked with her about my feelings. Lesson learned: talk with a family member or friend, perhaps in the U.S., during my darkest spells during my Peace Corps service.

Yet the tenacious, merciless, relentless homesickness wouldn't leave me alone. Which leads me to share some of my spiritual beliefs. My mom has repeatedly suggested over the years that I read "The Screwtape Letters" by C.S. Lewis. She had even given me multiple copies of the book over the years. I believe it is not a coincidence that, after years of having that book on my various bookshelves, I finally started reading it last week. In the book, C.S. Lewis presents a series of advisory and didactic letters written by an important Under Secretary in Hell named Screwtape, to his nephew Wormwood, who has been charged with malevolently misguiding the soul of his particular "patient." I have long believed in guardian angels, as well as in the existence of those spirits who aim to derail us on our paths of, and toward, spiritual growth.

Consequently, I was not only enjoying, but, far more importantly, was finding spiritual nourishment in reading this particular book. And I do believe Lewis' words helped me to start to realize how this counterproductive construction, or overfocusing on, and lamenting, my homesickness, had been erected, and fortified in my mind. Early in the day on the 28th, I read how Lewis, writing from the point-of-view of Screwtape, described how God allows disappointment to occur at the beginning of all human undertakings. He wrote, it happens when a young boy, enthralled by ancient Greek tales, hunkers down to actually learn Greek. And when newlyweds begin the actual activity of learning to live together. In all areas of life, it is present at the shift from imagining to the task of actually doing. God takes this chance on us because God dreams of us freely serving God. God wants us to be free, so God will not carry us, instead allowing us to do it ourselves. And then Screwtape whispers to Wormwood, in effect, "And that's where we come in..." But perhaps not as destructively as they would like, as Screwtape then warns Wormwood, because if humans successfully navigate these early difficulties, they become far less emotional and thus much more immune to temptation...

With these words, implicitly deconstructing the spiritual morass into which I had fallen, which had been percolating through my consciousness, I continued through my day, not yet having realized their perfect applicability to my present situation. That night, I noticed that an object in my apartment, which had previously appeared to me to be a fan, now seemed like it potentially could be a heater. Given that I sleep in multiple layers of clothing and under multiple blankets each night, I was obviously interested in testing my new perception. Plugging it in and turning it on, I realized it was a fan--and a heater--which blows hot air out of it. Soon after making this discovery, the lights went off--as did all of the power in my apartment. I wasn't able to remedy the situation by visiting the fuse box, since I needed my neighbor's help to do that, and he wasn't home.

I laid back down in bed. As I lay in bed with the lights out, I first thought of Chris Martin of the band Coldplay when he sings the song "Fix You," asking in one of the lyrics if it could be worse. But what that lyric made me realize was that during the time that I had been previously lamenting my situation, it could have been worse--and indeed, DID turn worse, once I became unable to turn the lights back on.

And yet, at the time, I didn't realize how appropriate it was that I had thought of a lyric from that song. In that song, he sings that when you try as best as you can, but you're still not where you want to be, then tears gush down your face. Earlier that day, in the midst of feeling like I couldn't cope with my overwhelming homesickness, and thus couldn't possibly envision myself being here in Morocco for the rest of my term of Peace Corps service, I felt like a failure. I crumpled; I wilted, unable to stand emotionally. In my frantic desperation, I wept tears of powerlessness, helplessness, as I cried out in agony, feeling trapped, feeling that somehow I had to continue, yet feeling totally unable to continue.

But again, it was very appropriate that I thought of that song, because, in retrospect, I feel that what the song describes is what then happened: the Light will show you the way. It was as if someone had said to me, "I'm going to try to mend your soul."

I thought that if I ended my Peace Corps service early, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Upon arriving in Philadelphia last September for Staging, the orientation just before flying here to Morocco, I saw a poster advertising the Peace Corps. It advised, "Never have to start sentences with "I should've..." Of course the ad aims to get people to join the Peace Corps, telling them not to regret never having gone into the Peace Corps. But during my most recent emotionally trying period, I approached the message in that ad from a new angle. I thought that I didn't want to have to say sentences such as "I should've finished my Peace Corps service." And I thought of the lyric in that same Coldplay song, "Fix You," in which Chris Martin sings that if you don't try, you will never know who you were, who you could've been.

And I also thought of a particular part of the Gospel of Matthew. In Matthew 25:40, 42-45, in the afterlife,

The King will say,
"I was hungry but you would not feed Me,
thirsty but you would not give Me a drink;
I was a stranger but you would not welcome Me in your homes,
naked but you would not clothe Me;
I was sick and in prison but you would not take care of Me."

Then they will answer Him,
"When, Lord, did we ever see You hungry or thirsty
or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison,
and we would not help You?"

The King will reply:
"I tell you,
whenever you refused to help one of these least important ones,
you refused to help Me."

And so I thought that if I ended my Peace Corps service early, and stopped helping people here who are in such dire need, Jesus would ask me, "Why did you abandon Me?" I decided that I didn't want to be asked that question.

And so my angst and torment was quite easily extinguished. In an instant, as I considered Jesus' words, my mental state had been drastically transformed for the better.

And I thought it a very good idea to devote some thought to how I had gotten to such an unfortunate state. Listening to Bono of the band U2 sing the song "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of," I gained some insight into what had happened. In that song, Bono sings that he was not conscious, was partly asleep. He then sings that sinking down can be comfortable, that is, until you discover how deep you can sink.

I had not been paying attention to the functioning of my own mind. Tiny bits of an unhealthy type of longing, a clinging variety of homesickness, had slowly crept and advanced further and further into my mind that week. When it revisited me that night, after listening to that U2 song, I immediately responded with a force and clarity of mind I had been lacking during its previous visits. I thought, quite purposefully, strongly, and with conviction and fierce love, that I am here in Morocco to help people who want my help. The unhealthy, clinging, selfish type of homesickness immediately evaporated. While it revisited me with a vengeance, repeatedly, and in rapid succession, I responded the same way each time, finally forcing it out on its way.

Not that there is anything wrong or unnatural with feeling homesick. In fact, a certain type of homesickness IS natural. But not when it comes to dominate and dictate my actions, preventing me from helping others. Then it has grown into something which has to be dismantled, reined in. But better yet, prevent it from even getting to that point by being present, aware, conscious, deliberate and purposeful, and living with love. Lesson learned: Love is an extremely effective antidote to fear, loneliness and an unhealthy type of homesickness.

And in fact, the next day, I was very happy to spend time with those people here in my town who I have come to consider as my new host family, the family I mentioned in my last blog entry. As before, yesterday I was very happy to spend time with them, this time having a delicious lunch with them, which included a tasty vegetable tajine. Sharing their company, I was reminded of why I am here, to be making wonderful, loving connections with others.

Just enjoying the simple things in life...

Since my last post... there was New Year's Eve. Moroccans tend to think of the new year as starting at the beginning of the Islamic New Year, which does not align with the new year on the Gregorian calendar, as I mentioned in my last post. Nevertheless, on December 31, at the bakery in my town, I found, and bought, a cake which said "Happy New Year" in Arabic, French, and Tashelheit, a Berber language spoken in my town. So, one of my Moroccan friends and I ate some cake, along with a couple of pizzas from a cafe in my town, as we watched some musical performances in Arabic being broadcast from Casablanca. Ten seconds before the stroke of midnight, they started a countdown on the show we were watching. That was the extent of the fanfare of the celebrations on NYE.

Also since my last post, I moved into my own apartment. I have had the good fortune of not being the first PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) in my site, in my town, several PCVs having preceded me in my town. Therefore, I have also been fortunate enough to move into the apartment which my immediate predecessor PCV vacated earlier in the month when I arrived in my site, in November 2010. So I am benefiting from all of the amenities which my predecessor PCVs in my town accumulated over the years, including furniture, appliances and accessories like blankets and sheets. So I have been extremely and frequently thankful for such blessings.

I also was thrilled last week when I met a great family I hadn't yet met. They sought me out because they've been friends with PCVs in town over the years. And they knew where to find me since PCVs have taken over the same apartment from each other for years. I am so happy that I met them because of their hospitality, because they're so friendly and welcoming. As I sat in their home enjoying soda and snacks with them, I was struck by how, even though I had never seen them before, I felt so comfortable that it seemed that I already knew them.

Earlier this month, I was also pleased when I went on my first serious hike since arriving here in Morocco. While I had been sitting at the cafe which I frequent most often in my town, I had looked straight across at the mountains, and had decided to hike to the top of the highest one on the particular ridge I admired from the cafe. When I felt that I had finally recovered from the cold I had had for weeks, I headed out on the hike. I think that the hike probably entailed at least 1,000' of elevation gain, and starting from the trailhead, it was at least a couple miles of hiking to get to the top of the mountain. Before that, I probably walked about a mile from my apartment to the trailhead.

And I've also been happy to be continuing to be tutoring and teaching English classes at the Dar Chebab, which doesn't always happen exactly as planned. Yesterday, there was a reception at the Dar Chebab, after which a group of some students and adults asked me to teach them some English, so I started spontaneously teaching them English.

And I've also just been enjoying random occurrences... like when I was playing chess with a young lad at the Dar Chebab, and then a girl walked in, and before she left, she gave him her phone number, then left. Not too long after she left, I won the game of chess. Usually he wins when we play. I couldn't help but thinking that he lost because of how distracted he was by just having gotten her phone number!

I also recently enjoyed teaching the same two Moroccans how citizens of the USA ride bumper cars, slamming into each other. There's a traveling mini-amusement park which has been in town for a while. Once in my town, I saw a group of Moroccans riding a bunch of bumper cars in a line, looping around in a line, and I couldn't resist the urge to demonstrate the US way of enjoying bumper cars, with a couple of my teenage Moroccan friends.

And then this morning, I was on my way to visit a fellow PCV in his town, and the grand taxi in which I was riding had to stop for a herd of goats crossing the road. Just enjoying the simple things in life...

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.

Eid Kbir

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

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

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

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

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

This is. My life. Right now.

We started teaching English classes at the Dar Chebab (Darija for "youth center") here in town last week. I've been enjoying it. It feels great to be sharing with Moroccans. I say Moroccans, and not Moroccan youth, because although the vast majority of the people we teach are youths aged 6 to 18, anyone can come to the Dar Chebab for English lessons. Some of the kids have already started learning English in school, whereas others don't know any English when they come to the Dar Chebab. So, I've taught lessons on counting in English, as well as on the passive voice.

So this is my life right now. It feels good, and I'm glad that I'm here helping people right now. I'm trying to focus on right now. At some point in the last few weeks, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of living here, in a new and foreign land, where I don't know many people, for the next two years. I was feeling challenged by the reality that I'm only going to see family and friends back in the USA a few times over the next couple of years. Then I began to apply myself simply to today, the day in which I am living at any particular moment. Suddenly my life in the Peace Corps became not only much more manageable, but also much more enjoyable.

And by not worrying about tomorrow, I'm also integrating into Moroccan society. Moroccans are more concerned with building a relationship with someone than they are with timetables. So, in effect, by relaxing, and not worrying about tomorrow, I'm implicitly embracing, and learning about Moroccan culture. Now viewing and approaching my own life differently, less concerned about time than I was before I came here, with the insight I am gaining while living in Morocco, I better understand Moroccans, one of the reasons I came here. By not worrying about time, much as Moroccans are unconcerned with it, I FEEL a different approach to life. Since I am being transformed, I will more easily help citizens of the USA understand Moroccans, one of the reasons why the Peace Corps sent me and other Peace Corps trainees here to Morocco.

A Little More About PST (Pre-Service Training)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A foreshadowing of emotional ups and downs to come...

Since my last blog entry, I’ve felt like I’ve had emotional ups and downs connected with going into the Peace Corps. I've thought that, in a way, it has foreshadowed how I’m going to be on an emotional roller coaster during my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

To give a full recap since my last blog entry, I had my last day at my now previous job on July 7. When I left my job, I stopped working with a lot of wonderful people. I also stopped doing work which I felt it was time for me to leave behind. But my last day at work was also another reminder of how much time it takes to wrap things up. That day, I was at work late sifting through things, figuring out what to keep, what to discard, what to leave behind. So, if you're a future Peace Corps Volunteer reading this blog entry, I suggest that you start sorting through your belongings long before you need to do so.

After my last day at work, it took me a while to move out of my apartment. Even though I had started sorting through my papers and property months earlier, I still wasn't ready to move out the day after my last day at work, which had been my original plan. And, even with all of the extensive and generous help of my friend Darcie, helping me pack and clean and move, I still wasn't ready to leave San Francisco until several days after July 8. So, again, if you're planning on going into the Peace Corps, I recommend starting to sift through your things far in advance.

On July 13, I left San Francisco. In the early morning, before morning rush hour, I drove my car over the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, packed to the hilt with many of my possessions. Then, heading east on Interstate 580, I drove over the crest of the Altamont Pass, which I consider one of the outer edges of the San Francisco Bay Area. Near the area of the pass, I lost the transmissions of Bay Area radio stations. So, at that point, I put on some music of my own, choosing to listen to the band Coldplay. Once I reached the bottom of the far side of the pass, I entered the Central Valley of California, having left the San Francisco Bay Area behind. At that point, I was listening to Chris Martin sing the song entitled “What If,” about making life choices which lead certain people to not be next to you. And then I lost it. I started sobbing. More than that. As I was sobbing, I was literally gasping for air. I had left so much behind in the San Francisco Bay Area: people who love me, including friends from college, friends I made on political campaigns, friends I made through other friends, friends where I had just stopped working, friends I made at church; so much else which had become familiar, and thus comforting, to me, including neighborhoods, parks, and all the many other amazing offerings and opportunities which San Francisco, the Bay Area, and California have to offer. And, I didn’t know when I would be back, if ever, since who knows what the future holds.

And then Chris Martin started singing about choices you make in your life, and whether they’re mistakes. And then he sang the encouragement to take the leap. To be bold, and courageous, and jump into what lies there waiting for you. And that helped me transform my deep sorrow, over having left so much behind, into renewed commitment to make the change of entering the Peace Corps.

As I drove across the country toward the east coast, I got used to the idea that I would no longer be living in California. During my cross-country road trip, I also got more used to the idea that I will be going away.

Toward the end of my three-and-a-half week long road trip, I coincidentally drove through towns and areas where I spent a lot of time when I was growing up. When I was a high school student, I was a member of an improvisational theatre troupe, in which I had helped write and act in short plays addressing social issues affecting teens, including drug abuse, HIV and teen pregnancy. Years later, when I was on my cross-country road trip last month, as I was driving through certain towns, I remembered how I had performed in those plays in those particular towns with my high school peers. Driving through those towns, I thought of how I had told the Peace Corps of that theatre experience, since it could be relevant to my job as a Youth Developer in the Peace Corps. Then I thought that I started gaining experience relevant to my upcoming position in the Peace Corps back when I was in high school. And that made me think that I have made a wise decision to go into the Peace Corps, because long ago I started gaining experience relevant to serving in the Peace Corps.

And then, not too long after that, it became a little more real and unavoidable. As I finished my road trip and since I've started spending time with family members, it has hit me, in a more urgent and thus undeniable way, that I'm going to move outside the country. Don't get me wrong; I'm not reconsidering my decision. I know for certain that I'm going into the Peace Corps. I'm just starting to realize in a more immediate, and inescapable, way, that my life is going to change in some major ways. Ways which I had previously realized, but now it's just hitting me more, and it’s being brought to my attention more.

And then, with a little more time, I have begun to feel that, yes, I’ll be leaving everyone I know, but that I’m OK with that. On the flip side of being deprived of the company of, and frequent communication with, so many people I now know and love, I’ll be welcoming so many new people and experiences into my life, and my life will be forever transformed. In ways that it would not be shaped if I had not made the very recent and major changes that I’ve made.

So, it was with great gratitude for the love of many wonderful people I now know, as well as with confidence that I’m making the right decision, and that all will be well, that I recently celebrated with my extended family. Less than a week ago, my dad threw a fantastic celebratory going away dinner for me, mostly with our extended family, and also with some friends. It was wonderful to see so many loving and caring people, who are all so supportive of me entering the Peace Corps. In a way, I think that the “bon voyage” send-off message I received this past weekend will be mirrored by the “bienvenue” greeting I will receive when I arrive in Morocco. Both characterized by genuine love, support and encouragement. Which is why, in the end, I’m not all that worried about going into the Peace Corps: because there’s love where I’m leaving, as well as where I’m going.