COS (Completion of Service) Conference

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Women's Rights And Girls' Imaginations

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

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

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

Security Checkpoints

After Spring Camp ended, I visited the Mediterranean coast. I figured I should capitalize on being so close to the coast. In the town of Saidia, I went for a pleasant stroll on the beach. After thoroughly assessing the beachside cafe and restaurant options, I settled on a place where I could get a fish sandwich for a low price. I paid for what I got. The baby shrimp panini for 35 dirhams wasn't that good. However, as I ate it, and after I ate it, I watched the waves crashing on the beach, which, in soothing splendor, thankfully eclipsed how lamentable the sandwich was. After enjoying the view, I caught a taxi back south.

The next day, I headed south from the city of Oujda. Until the turn for the town of Jerada, the landscape was verdant. After we passed the turn for Jerada, the landscape was stark, brown and barren. Consequently, it was a long bus ride to the town of Figuig, where I was staying for the night.

Soon before arriving in Figuig, our bus was stopped a couple of times by the gendarmes, who are the local law enforcement officers. The first time, the gendarme who came onto the bus asked me to step off the bus with him. Then he asked me for my passport. He asked me the purpose of my visit to Figuig. I told him that I wanted to walk in the palmerie, which is the massive grove of palm trees there. I'd heard it's a beautiful town and area, and had been wanting to visit for a while. The gendarmes asked me some basic identifying information in addition to that which they could glean from my passport. Then they let me get back on the bus. The second time we got stopped by the gendarmes, I had a similar interaction with another gendarme. While there are security checkpoints in various places here in Morocco, these gendarmes were more inquisitive than gendarmes usually are at security checkpoints here in Morocco. Why? Figuig is very close to the border with Algeria; in fact, it's so far east in Morocco that Algeria is only a few kilometers away. Figuig is surrounded on three sides by Algeria. And, the border between Morocco and Algeria has been closed for years now. So, it seems that the gendarmes are conducting checks to ensure border security. Anyway, the gendarmes were agreeable and professional enough, so I didn't have any complaints about those interactions with them, also considering that the delays in our voyage south were minor.

When I arrived in Figuig, I was happily surprised by the price for my room at Hotel El Meliasse. Based on my research about that particular hotel, I had expected to pay 60 dirhams for the room. That hotel indeed charges 60 dirhams for some of its rooms--if two people stay in those rooms. Since I was staying in the room by myself, I only had to pay 30 dirhams. For those of you who aren't familiar with Moroccan currency, 30 dirhams is the equivalent of about 4 US dollars. And no, the room was not disgusting. While the paint on the stairwell walls is peeling, no paint was peeling in the room in which I slept. The floors seemed reasonably clean. Some of the blankets seemed old, and others seemed new. I was glad to be paying the price I was paying for the room I had. I've paid more for rooms which were not as nice here in Morocco.

While I was there in Figuig, I enjoyed one of my favorite Moroccan culinary offerings, shfinj, which are deep-fried doughnuts. Given how Moroccans love to add sugar to things, I'm a bit mystified to report that there's usually no sugar of any kind, either powdered or granulated, on these doughnuts. Despite my sweet tooth, I always enjoy these doughnuts, which have no sugar on them. I've had them in various locations in addition to Figuig, including the town in which I live, as well as Marrakech, and also on the Atlantic coast of Morocco.

After enjoying one of these doughnuts, I headed off for a walk into one of the villages of Figuig. After a little while of walking on the narrow streets, the passageways became covered. Overhead were ceilings formed by palm tree trunks, which also served as floors for the buildings which extended over the passageways. On my way back to the main part of town, I walked through the palmerie, past the irrigation canals channeling water through that desert territory, making arable but dry land more fertile.

The next day I headed out from Figuig on an early morning bus, then caught a late morning bus for a longer segment of my voyage west. At one point early in that second part of my journey, our bus had gotten detoured onto a dirt and gravel road. Given the terrain of that road, the driver was driving quite slowly. Once we had gotten back onto the main, paved road, the driver sped up. It occurred to me that perhaps my journey that day could serve as a microcosm of my Peace Corps service. Early on I seemed to be moving slowly, but later time seemed to be passing more quickly.

Later that day, I enjoyed visiting a friend and fellow PCV in his site. We always have laughs together, so I'd been looking forward to spending time with him. On my way back south, I've enjoyed seeing some new countryside. However, I'd been looking forward to spending time with people again. While I enjoy seeing new landscapes, I've been reminded of what brings me most joy: enjoying the company of others and giving each other mutual support. After all, that's why I came here.

The Best Way To Deal With Misbehavior In The Classroom Is Through The Heart

Often when I'm teaching English at the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center") here in town, kids are unruly. Usually they divert other students' attention by talking to them in class. However, sometimes they engage in other, more disruptive classroom misbehavior.

I've gone so far as to kick talkative or otherwise distracting kids out of the classroom. While I prefer not to resort to such extreme measures, after expelling multiple misbehaving students out of the classroom, I have found that the remaining students, who are more serious about learning, are more able to focus on the lesson. Consequently, we have more efficient and productive lessons.

However, at times I've also called upon the moudir (Darija for "director") of the dar chebab to help me with especially disruptive kids. For example, on one recent night, I was teaching an English class. Given that it has started getting warmer, the moudir had left the windows of this particular classroom open before I started teaching this class. Thus, the students in the classroom and I quite clearly heard the ear-piercing whistle which a child made right outside the window. I purposely kept teaching for a few more moments to avoid acknowledging, and thus to avoid drawing attention to, his misbehavior, which, I suspected, was exactly what he wanted. However, after a few moments, I left the classroom and spoke with the moudir about the loud whistle. He went outside the dar chebab and took the boys outside the window by surprise. Later that night he told me that he had decided that they would be banned from the dar chebab.

He's also mentioned to me the idea of bringing rebellious kids to the gendarmes, who are the law enforcement officers here in town. Generally, although I imagine that doing so would tend to be highly effective in reining in kids' unruly behavior, it seems to me that doing so might be an extreme measure. However, at least some of the time, I would definitely encourage such a course of action. With the very loud, screeching whistle, one is starting to consider noise complaints, which, at least in the US, law enforcement officers handle. However, I also recognize that Moroccans might call upon law enforcement here in Morocco for additional and different reasons other than those which lead people to utilize law enforcement agencies in the US. Furthermore, I completely respect the moudir's authority and his decisions to ban certain youths from the dar chebab and/or to bring them to the gendarmerie.

In managing misbehavior while I'm teaching and/or tutoring kids in English, I've also been reminded of certain cultural phenomena here in Morocco. Youths, as well as adults, sometimes expect me to become violent when I attempt to deal with disruptive kids. In addressing classroom misbehavior, I also try to get kids to respect each other.

A specific example comes to mind. Last week, I was tutoring a student in English. He told me that he was going to give a presentation in school about how youths drop out of school. He's one of the most devoted students who comes to the dar chebab for help in learning English. He often asks me questions about English. He's also relatively quiet, gentle, modest and soft-spoken. As I was helping him with words and phrases in English related to his presentation topic, he was making a good number of mistakes, sometimes by misspelling words, and sometimes by using the wrong verb tense. Other kids were in the room, and a couple of them were watching and listening as I was tutoring this student. One of the ones who was watching was laughing as my tutee was incorrectly composing sentences. I became angry and told him and another youth who also was distracting us to leave the room. I was especially incensed in this case because not only were they making it more difficult for my tutee to concentrate, and thus to learn, but the one kid was implicitly mocking his attempts to learn. I was especially agitated because potentially, given his seemingly sensitive nature, my tutee seems particularly susceptible to the destructive effects which such mockery can have on one's psyche.

I thus followed the two youths out of the dar chebab, in an attempt to explain to them why they must not laugh at students who are trying to learn. However, when they saw me coming, they ran away. I believe that they assumed that I would hurt them, or at least grab them, if I got close enough to them to do so. I returned to the classroom and finished tutoring my student. The two students who had sped away had returned and were lingering just outside the front doors of the dar chebab. I again tried to speak with the disrespectful students, and again they fled; this pattern recurred a few times. Each time I looked outside to see if they were still there so I could talk with them, they became scarce.

Finally at one point, I was standing outside of the dar chebab when I saw the youth who had been laughing at my tutee. From afar, I strongly stated to him in Darija that he must not laugh at another student who is trying to learn. In English, he said, "I am sorry." I responded in Darija that he had to say that to the student at whom he had been laughing.

Having addressed his disrespectful behavior, I re-entered the dar chebab, where the moudir, as well as the moudir of another dar chebab in a nearby village were conversing. I began speaking with them about this situation which had just occurred while I had been tutoring. I explained to them that the reason I had been so irritated was because if a kid laughs at another kid when he's trying to learn, that youth who's trying to learn might later have psychological problems. The moudir of the dar chebab here in town indicated that he understood.

A short time later, he told me that the moudir of the dar chebab from the nearby town would walk with me to my apartment. I headed out from the dar chebab with him. After walking with him for about a minute, I began to wonder why he was walking me home. It occurred to me that perhaps it was because I had berated the one youth in public. Moroccans tend to observe the rule of praising others in public, and reprimanding them in private. However, I'd kept trying to take the two disruptive youths aside to privately counsel them, but hadn't been able to do so. Given the potentially damaging effects of his mockery, I felt it might have been urgent immediately to address his misbehavior. Further, during some periods, I have not seen this particular youth, the one who had been laughing at my tutee, for months on end. Still further, I'd seen the moudir of the dar chebab here in town chide students while others were watching and/or within earshot. Nevertheless, as I was walking home with the moudir of the dar chebab of the nearby town, I asked him if I should not have chastised the student in public, and if I should have waited until I was able to privately speak with him. He responded that there hadn't been a problem with how I had handled the situation.

As we continued walking, once we were much closer to my apartment, it occurred to me that maybe he wanted to come into my apartment, perhaps to counsel me in private about this situation. Accordingly, when we reached the front door of the apartment building in which I live, I asked him if he wanted to come inside. He declined, which not only seemed to be a genuine reply given the look on his face and his general demeanor, but also seemed to make sense since he hasn't been feeling that well.

Once I had gotten inside my apartment, I finally realized why he had walked me home. He had done so because Moroccan men and boys often make sure that other men or boys in a physical altercation actually part ways, and often accompany them on their way to make sure that they're not going to go back to find the other--or each other--to restart the dispute or fight. However, I'd had no intention of harming, grabbing or even touching either of these youths. During physical confrontations, Moroccan men and boys exchange harsh words and threats, shove each other, and, at times, put their hands to the throat of the other male, as if they are about to strangle him. They rarely use weapons while fighting, and nearly no private Moroccan citizens own guns. Given how Moroccan men and boys sometimes interact with each other, certainly I understand why Moroccans tend to expect me to become violent with youths who are disruptive while I'm trying to teach and/or tutor.

However, I don't become violent. I have hoped that the next day I communicated that I follow this behavioral aspiration. I was at the dar chebab when both of the youths who I had ejected from the classroom the previous day walked right up to me. I calmly said to them in Darija, "Look: you have to respect other kids. It's very important to respect them when they're trying to learn. That's all." I was glad to see that they seemed to be serious and attentive to the message I was trying to communicate to them. It occurred to me that they might have become so meek because they were concerned that the moudir was going to ban them from the dar chebab, and/or take other punitive measures against them. I figured that I was probably correct in my suspicion when the student who had laughed at my tutee seemed concerned a little while later as he asked the moudir whether he could attend Spring Camp. However, I hope that these two students are not just changing their behavior out of self-interest. I hope and pray that they truly are repentant, and that they have reached such a psychological and spiritual place out of compassion for their fellow student. I know that if they feel and believe so, they will have benefited infinitely more than from having gained any knowledge of, or skill in, English.

He Doesn't Know Me Very Well

Earlier this week, I went to the gendarmerie, or the headquarters of the gendarmes, where I live down here in the Sahara in Morocco. Since I live in a town, we don't have any police here in town like there are in Moroccan cities. Instead we only have gendarmes in this town.

Anyway, I went to the gendarmes to check on the status of my application to renew my carte de sejour (French, literally for "the card of one's stay"). Once a foreigner is in Morocco for more than three months, he or she is illegally staying in Morocco. To stay longer than that, one has to get a carte de sejour. After my first few months in Morocco, I obtained a carte de sejour. However, the carte de sejour is only valid for one year. Thus, at the beginning of this year, I applied to renew my carte de sejour. I gave the gendarmes passport-sized photos of myself, copies of the identification page of my passport, copies of my authorization to work here through the Peace Corps, and copies of my rental agreement for the apartment in which I live here in town. After I gave these photos and all of this documentation to them, they gave me a receipt indicating that I had applied to renew my carte de sejour. However, I figured that it wouldn't hurt to go back and check with them to make sure that they had everything they needed to process my application. It turned out that they indeed had everything that they needed, so I left the gendarmerie happy upon confirming that my application was indeed complete.

Later in the day, I headed over to the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer). Usually when I arrive at the dar chebab, I visit with the moudir (director) in his office for a little while, to catch up on recent events which have occurred at the dar chebab, as well as to discuss upcoming activities there. When I arrived at the dar chebab on this particular day, the moudir was speaking with a computer science teacher in the office. A little while later, a boy, perhaps ten years old, came into the office.

During the usual banter of conversation, if a Moroccan thinks you're a little crazy, he or she is likely to say so. It's not only a common assertion, but also a relatively sure way of making Moroccans laugh, whether you call someone else crazy, or whether you claim to be crazy yourself. At one point, I told the computer science teacher that I'm crazy. He turned and asked the boy if he thought that I was crazy. The boy, certainly appearing to be a bit meek, said that he didn't think I was crazy. The computer science teacher turned back to me and said, "You see? He doesn't think you're crazy." I rejoindered in Darija, "Ah, but he doesn't know me," insinuating that if the boy did know me, he wouldn't say that, thus implying that I'm crazy. Unsurprisingly, the computer science teacher and the director laughed at my comment. It's a well-worn, but nevertheless reliable, source of laughter here in Morocco.