The Sun Is Setting On My Peace Corps Service

I'm getting so close to the end of my Peace Corps service that when I do a lot of things now, it's the last time that I'm going to do them here in Morocco.  Today I went to the city that's near my town, making the last round-trip journey during my Peace Corps service to that city.

Very early this morning, here in Morocco, we shifted our clocks one hour back, so that we're once again on "old time," as folks here sometimes put it, or in the time zone of GMT (Greenwich Mean Time).  However, not everyone alters their schedule to conform to the time change.  So, just to be safe, I showed up at the bus station as if the time change hadn't occurred.  Sure enough, the bus was there at the bus station as if the time change hadn't happened.  I was glad that I got up an hour early to catch the bus!

When I got to the city, I made my way to a cafe I've frequented there in that city.  I was enjoying the glorious day, the brilliant blue sky and the temperate weather as I savored a "nuss-nuss," (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "half-half"), which, in the context of going to a cafe, is a cup filled half with coffee and half with milk.  Moroccan coffee tends to be pretty strong, so usually I order a nuss-nuss, rather than follow my practice in the US of ordering a cup filled mostly with coffee and a little milk.  Even so, a nuss-nuss often still gives me a minor case of the jitters!

As I was sitting outside, basking in the sunshine and enjoying my hot beverage, I saw a girl, perhaps in her late teens, ride a bicycle around the roundabout, her head covered in a hijab, that is, a headscarf.  Upon seeing her exercise her freedom of movement, I was reminded of the words of a young friend of mine, another Moroccan teenage girl.  While traveling outside Morocco, she had recently met Muslim girls from other nations and realized that she and other Moroccan girls enjoy freedoms which Muslim girls in certain other countries don't have.  I was glad to hear my friend's thoughts, her realizations about her life and the world.  I was happy that her realm of experience had been widened such that she had altered her perceptions of herself, her life, other girls, and the world around her.  Observing the Moroccan girl on the bicycle this morning, I once again began to wonder how I'm going to process my cultural observations from Morocco once I'm back in the US and have the changed perspective of being back in the states.

After my visit to the cafe, there in the city I attended Bible study with some of my Christian expat friends who live here in Morocco.  I've been so thankful to God for the fellowship and spiritual community I've shared with them, getting to worship God and celebrate His blessings with them.  I certainly didn't expect to live in a location here in Morocco where I would be able to commune regularly with other Christians, so I've been very grateful for their presence, care, warmth and support of me in my Christian faith.  After Bible study, we had a lovely outdoor barbeque, with grilled chicken and sausages, potato casserole, cake and cookies, among other delicious food.  I felt better after getting to say goodbye to my Christian brothers and sisters there, as well as to some fellow PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) who were there in the city today.  I feel like I get more of a proper sense of closure, putting me more at ease, when, in person and with sufficient time, I get to properly say goodbye to people. And, in this particular context of completing my Peace Corps service, when I get to say proper goodbyes, I feel like I'm appropriately preparing to leave this country where I have lived for two years.

On the bus ride back here to the town where I live here in the Sahara, I consciously looked at this town as we approached it, realizing that surely it was the last time I would view it from that location and angle during my Peace Corps service, and, quite probably, for the last time at all.  Returning here to town so late in the day, admiring the sun setting on the mountains near this town, I considered an analogy of the scope of the sun today to my Peace Corps service.  As the sun set today, so the sun is setting on my Peace Corps service.

Twilight: My Two-Year Anniversary In Morocco

Today is my two-year anniversary of my arrival here in Morocco. I arrived in Morocco as a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) on September 15, 2010. My COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date is less than a month away. Thus I am in the twilight of my Peace Corps service. People have been asking me how I feel about my Peace Corps service, now that it is about to end. I feel pretty good.

When I started applying to the Peace Corps, initially in 2008, at that point already for at least a dozen years I'd already wanted to be in the Peace Corps. I wanted to live in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa. I'd always envisioned my Peace Corps service being in the Sahara. I'd been wanting to live somewhere where I'd be speaking a foreign language. I'd already been wanting to teach for well over a dozen years. And it had long been important to me to help impoverished persons, as the Bible instructs. Thus, I supposed that teaching English classes in the Peace Corps would be a fine way to do all of these things.

Indeed, I've enjoyed teaching English, and I've enjoyed doing the other work I've done here in Morocco as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer). While teaching, I've mostly taught English, though I've also taught lessons about geography, health and the environment during my service. During the process of teaching here, I've learned how to teach better, learning for which I have been grateful.

I've come to see how, just as the Peace Corps encourages PCVs to conceptualize, teaching English can be a vehicle, a means, to other, more significant, ends. I've taught English as a means of addressing gender issues and as a way of leading youths to develop further their logical reasoning and critical thinking abilities.

While teaching English, I've sought to catalyze boys to consider their responsibility to respect the human rights of girls and women. I've tried to spur them to evaluate how they may support women and girls and promote their human rights by the seemingly mundane choices they make in what seem to be their everyday, routine lives. As I've taught English, I've sought to empower girls by encouraging them in the classroom. I've had them consider their own perceptions of themselves, and I've suggested to boys that they be more conscious of how they perceive girls.

I've introduced logical reasoning and critical thinking elements into English lessons to suggest to youths that they might want to question their own assumptions. I've tried to help them to be more objective. I've hoped that perhaps they've expanded their minds. I've hoped that in taking these reasoning approaches, they've realized things about themselves and their world.

In addition to this work I've done, I've made new friends. I've established connections here, both with Moroccans and with other PCVs, which I value.

However, I can't help but think that I might have benefited more than the students and others I've taught and tutored here. I feel that I have gained enormously during my time here in terms of my own personal journey.

On a relatively superficial level, I have indeed been living in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa, and even more specifically in the Sahara, as I had wanted to do for so long. I've admired some beautiful landscape in this country, and while I've been here in town, I've often enjoyed taking walks in a calm, serene palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees which stretches through this town where I've been living.

But more deeply, while I've lived here in Morocco, I have enjoyed a simple lifestyle. I haven't missed the money and property I had back in the states. Indeed, as I've neared my COS date, and have come to shed more and more property, I've been yearning to jettison more and more physical possessions from my life.

I've greatly enjoyed the solitude I've had here. I've used it to read the entire Bible and re-read a significant portion of it. I've used my free time, with its peace and quiet, to pray and meditate, and to study the Word of God.

I've been very grateful to God for the spiritual community I've experienced with other expat Christians here in Morocco. I've cherished the opportunities I've had to worship God and celebrate God's many blessings with them. I've come to appreciate much more the ability to go to church, since, while I've been living here in Morocco, I've not always been in a location here where there is a church.

As a PCV, I've been grateful for the camaraderie and support I've experienced with and from my fellow PCVs. I've also been glad to live in this community where I've been living here in the Sahara. I've felt satisfaction and fulfillment in serving the community here, teaching and doing other work while I've lived here.

While serving here, I've often felt challenged by this culture. I haven't felt like my personality meshes well with Moroccan culture. Indeed, I've often thought that, in placing me here, the Peace Corps was doing something akin to trying to mix oil and water. However, in experiencing the challenges I've encountered here, I've realized that such difficulties present opportunities to grow and to learn, not just about another culture and the people who are native to it, but also to learn about oneself.

I've experienced the most emotionally challenging period in my life during my Peace Corps service, largely as I struggled to deal with culture shock and adjusted to life in a culture significantly different than in the culture in which I had been accustomed to living previously during all of my life. In grappling with these circumstances, I've been reminded of how Francis Collins, in his book "The Language Of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence For Belief," muses, "Hard though it is to accept, a complete absence of suffering may not be in the best interest of our spiritual growth." Indeed, one would do well to ponder the question, Do we learn more from a comfortable situation, or from trying circumstances?

Ultimately such metamorphosis, painful and unpleasant though it has often been, due to its attendant growth and learning, has been one of the more profound reasons why I have valued my time here so much. Learning, growing, becoming more than one had been, while serving and giving to others, this is part of the meaning of life.

Thus when circumstances not only seem less than ideal, when not only do we not get what we desire, but events are additionally incredibly trying and stressful, and seem to stretch us to our limits, something better, something more, something deeply and wonderfully transformative lies waiting for us on the other side, as described in Hebrews 11:39-40:

These were all commended for their faith,
yet none of them received what had been promised,
since God had planned something better for us
so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

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.

Spelling Bee Morocco 2012

Yesterday and today other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I volunteered at regional spelling bees down here in southern Morocco. Over the last few months, schools and dar chebabs (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth centers") held spelling bees. Later, citywide spelling bees were held in those same cities and towns.

The top spellers, who are high school students, from those previous competitions came here to the city of Ouarzazate for the regional spelling bees this weekend. They competed in a spelling bee yesterday in which teams of three students each competed against each other. A team of three girls won the team spelling bee yesterday. Today another spelling bee was held, in which individual students competed against each other. Today one girl won first place, another girl won second place, and a boy won third place.

I was glad to see girls winning most of the top places in the regional spelling bees this weekend after they made it here. Today when we were gathered for the solo bee, one of the Moroccan teachers thanked parents who let their daughters come to participate in the regional spelling bees here in Ouarzazate this weekend. Some of the girls' parents had been hesitant about giving permission for their daughters to attend the regional spelling bees here this weekend.

I can't help but suspect that many of those reticent parents didn't grasp the full scope of constructive impact that these spelling bees could potentially have. And yet in giving or withholding their permission for their daughters to attend, the parents held the key to the doorway of not only opportunity but also development for their daughters. To the extent that, in their reluctance, they refused to grant permission for their daughters to attend and participate in the spelling bees, they correspondingly hampered their daughters' development.

All of the students, but especially the girls who competed, stood to benefit in so many ways above and beyond becoming more proficient in English. In the team spelling bees, the students were practicing teamwork. In both of the bees, they were developing public speaking skills. In gradually becoming more comfortable while speaking in front of an audience, they were probably developing confidence. They may have raised their self-esteem by succeeding at spelling words in these contests. These youths, who are especially studious, and particularly the girls among them, might not have other opportunities through which they can derive these benefits.

Here in Morocco, athletic students, especially boys, seem to have many opportunities to exhibit, practice and develop their talents. As is often the case in many countries, and which also seems to be the case here in Morocco, studious kids, bookworms, seem to have fewer chances to compete in public events. And here in Morocco, I've seen fewer competitions--of any kind, athletic, academic or otherwise--in which girls compete.

I hope that we helped these studious youths--especially the girls, who can find it even harder to speak up--to become more bold and assertive in expressing themselves. I hope that they gained some skill in collaborating with each other as teammates this weekend. If they have been developing these qualities and skills through these activities, they will be improving their standing and their station in life so much more than by simply learning more English.

Encouraging Girls To Be Ambitious and Bold

In my volunteering at the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco, I try to use English lessons as vehicles for empowering Moroccan girls. I attempt to do so partially by trying to provide the girls with ideas of role models and by encouraging them to speak out.

I had yet again another opportunity to do so last week, when I was teaching some girls, at their request, about the present continuous verb tense. As some examples of that verb tense, I wrote on the board the sentences "She is working as a doctor in a hospital" and "She is getting her Master's degree." Although initially I provided them with these sentences intending to hopefully foster seeds of ambition in them, I also found that they found the second sentence educational in a purely informational sense. They asked me what a Master's degree is. Now, I'm not sure if they just didn't know the words in English for Master's degree, or if they didn't know that there is such a thing as a Master's degree. In any event, I answered their question, explaining that first one has to go to high school if one is then going to go to a university, which, in turn, is a prerequisite for obtaining a Master's degree.

Also during that lesson, I started implementing the practice, about which I had recently read, of having students come to the board to write. I'd read that in having girls get up and write on the board, one can help build their self-confidence. Hence I was keen to, and thus was sure to, call on girls who were raising their hands during that class. I was writing sentences in the present continuous verb tense, leaving the conjugation of the verb "to be" and the formation of the gerund up to the student who was writing on the board. So I wrote text like "She (work) at the office" and had the student replace "work" with "is working" on the board.

I'm imagining and hoping that girls gain self-confidence by walking up to the board and writing on it, and for various reasons, I'm suspecting that they actually will gain such self-assurance by doing so. They are taking a risk by stepping out of their comfort zone. They're taking bold steps to stand up in front of their peers. They're taking on a position of prominence in the classroom. They're publicly displaying their knowledge before their classmates. They are, in effect, teaching their fellow pupils. Consequently, they're taking a step toward assuming a position of authority. And I envision that girls are being empowered by all of these likely benefits, which it seems that they likely derive by choosing to take a leap.

Using Humor As A Means Of Helping Kids Focus

Earlier this week I was teaching English in the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco. The small English class consisted mostly of girls, who had asked me to review dialogue which frequently is said when one goes shopping.

I gradually went through a brief conversation with them on the dry erase board between a shopkeeper and a customer, very similar to the one which one of the girls had showed me in her notebook. At one point in the exchange, I wrote that the shopper was indicating that she wanted some chicken. I had the storeowner reply by asking her how many chickens she wanted. At this point, the girls seemed to be visibly tired, bored or losing their motivation or focus. So the next sentence I wrote on the board was the customer saying, "I want eighty chickens." When the girls read this sentence, they smiled a little. Then I asked them if they knew why I had written that the shopper wanted eighty chickens. I explained to them that I had written that to make sure that they had been paying attention. Still, the girls seemed to be lagging a bit, so I next wrote on the board the shopkeeper responding to his patron, "You're crazy." Moroccans usually are amused when someone is accused of being loony, so it was another effective way of rousing them a bit, in an effort to help them to focus on the lesson.

Empowering Women and Girls

Earlier this week at the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco, I was teaching three teenage Moroccan girls English. They had asked me to teach them about reported speech, which is also called "indirect speech." So I was putting sentences onto the dry erase board like "He said, 'I cooked the couscous.'" Then I was explaining to them that using indirect speech, one would write the same message as "He said that he had cooked the couscous." Later I was giving them sentences like the first one and asking them to rewrite them using indirect speech. Then we reviewed their answers and compared their answers with how the sentence was supposed to look using indirect speech.

Later during the same English class, they asked me to review the passive voice with them. So I was writing sentences in the active voice on the board, and having the girls switch the sentences into the passive voice, so they could practice putting sentences into the passive voice.

I often try to use English lessons as opportunities to plant and/or water seeds in the minds of Moroccan youths. So at one point, I wrote a sentence on the board mentioning Fatima Mernissi, who is a Moroccan feminist, and who thus writes about how we need to empower women. She's probably the most prominent feminist in Morocco; indeed, some consider her the most prominent feminist in the Arab world. I had already seen a picture of Ms. Mernissi in an English textbook used here in Morocco, so I figured that they probably already knew about her. So I wanted to help encourage any interest they might have already had in her. So I wrote, "She read the book by Fatima Mernissi." After a little while, they correctly answered that in the passive voice, the sentence should read "The book by Fatima Mernissi was read by her." After our small class had ended, I thought that because I had written that sentence on the board, which they copied into their notebooks, and which they'll likely re-read, perhaps it will reinforce the idea of reading one of her books, and consequently perhaps one of them would end up reading one of Ms. Mernissi's books.

After we had reviewed what that sentence should look like in the passive voice, one of the girls noted, "But she is not here!" I capitalized on her comment as an opportunity to again water that seed, that idea of reading the work of a major Moroccan feminist. However, this time, I made the suggestion more directly, replying, "Ah, but you can still read one of her books!"

I also try to use English lessons to point out what must seem like unexpected, inexplicable, anomalous inconsistencies in spelling and pronunciation in English. Thus I explained that both the past tense and the present tense of the verb "read" are both spelled the same way, even though they don't sound the same way. I added that in the present tense, the vowels in this word collectively have a long "e" sound, but not in the past tense, when it sounds like the color "red." After illustrating these inconsistencies, I decided to employ some humor to try to ease any mental anguish that they may have been feeling over trying to get these spellings and pronunciations straight. After acknowledging that they must think that these inconsistencies seem crazy, I remarked, "The people who started spelling "read" in the past tense and "read" in the present tense the same way should have been sent to Berrechid!" Berrechid is a city here in Morocco where there's a psychiatric institution. The name of the city is often used synonymously as an insinuation that someone is mentally ill: that is to say, if you say that someone should go to Berrechid, you're suggesting that that person is insane. So, in declaring that certain people--who started pronouncing both the past and present tenses of the verb "read" the same way--should have gone to Berrechid, I was saying that those people must have been insane. Since Moroccans almost always are amused when someone else is called insane, the girls did indeed laugh at my comment.

Jocularity aside, I also capitalized on the opportunity to encourage these girls in their studies, given that a couple of them appeared to be wearing wedding rings, and thus apparently were married. Given that many rural Moroccan girls are expected to stay at home and raise a family once they get married, even if they get married while they are young, I felt it was important to reinforce their studiousness in light of their seemingly being married. Therefore, regarding how they're continuing their studies while evidently being married, I said to them, "Tbark Allah Elikum," which you say to people who have done something which you feel merits approval or support.

One of the girls clarified that she's engaged to be married. The other admitted that she's not actually married. Then she asked me if I'm married. It occurred to me that perhaps she asked me because she likes me. I've been out of college for more than a few years. Considering the question of marrying a Moroccan more generally, I wouldn't want to become romantically involved with nearly all Moroccan females because I'd never convert to Islam. Added to that reason of never being able to become a Muslim, amongst the many reasons why I wouldn't want to become romantically involved with Moroccan females, I thus include not wanting to get involved with girls who necessarily are a lot younger than me.

However, you should know that not only do Moroccan men marry much younger females, it's also socially acceptable for them to do so here in Morocco. Why? The historical figure most revered in Morocco did so. The founder of Islam married a female who was significantly younger than him. He also claimed to have revelations authorizing him to marry multiple wives; after claiming to have had those revelations, he indeed married multiple females. Consequently, one of his wives accused him of having self-serving revelations. He also said that it's best not to marry more than one wife if you can't give adequate attention to all of them. Ultimately his other wives wound up ceding their time with him to his youngest wife, the one who was significantly younger than him, because she was perceived to be his favorite wife. Anyway, I could go on, but if you want to know where Moroccan men get a role model for marrying females much younger than them, know that many of them get such encouragement and reinforcement from the founder of Islam.

International Women's Day

Yesterday was International Women's Day. Accordingly, I started a discussion at the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a PCV here in Morocco. A couple dozen students, about a quarter of them girls, and the rest boys, were present.

I explained that in many different countries, people celebrate International Women's Day because they think that it's important to know about and talk about the needs women have and the challenges that they face around the world. Then I noted that sometimes people face challenges because their needs are not being met.

I asked the students what all people need. We came up with a partial list which included air, water, food, education, employment, medicine, health care, housing, community, family and opportunities to grow.

I asked them to name a challenge which women in particular seem to face, perhaps here in the town where we live, throughout Morocco, or elsewhere in the world. One of them said, "Some women are not working." I agreed, and wrote it in a couple of different phrasings on the board, to help make sure that they understood its meaning. I wrote "Some women are unemployed" and "They don't have jobs."

I then asked the students why some women are not employed. One student responded that some women did not get a lot of education, so I wrote that on the board too.

Next I asked the students why some women have not received much education. They began to supply reasons, which I wrote on the board, and I added ones on the board that they didn't mention. We soon had a list which stated, "They could not pay," "In some places, there are not a lot of schools," "Some people don't understand that education is important," "Some girls stopped going to school because they were working," "Some girls stopped going to school because they got married," and "Some girls stopped going to school because they had children."

One of the students noted, "But here (in this town), there are girls who are married and they are still going to school." Rather than feeling stymied because he had just provided evidence to undermine one of the reasons we had found why some girls don't get a lot of education, instead I immediately realized that it could serve as a convenient segue to the next, critical part of the discussion.

Excited, I asked, "And how do they do that? What happens that makes it easier for them to do that?" When they didn't offer any explanations, I made my question more specific. I asked, "What can their husbands do to help them go to school?" One boy replied that they can drive them to school.

I asked what else people could do to ensure that married girls keep going to school. Another boy suggested, "The state can encourage married girls to stay in school."

I liked how they were coming up with solutions at different levels of society. However, I wanted to focus on personal responsibility, to steer them towards keeping themselves accountable for how they themselves deal with these challenges. I asked, "And what about her husband?" One of them replied that her husband can encourage her, so I wrote on the board, "Her husband can encourage her to continue going to school."

It may not seem all that significant to many people in the USA whether one encourages girls to go to school. After all, so many girls go to school in the USA, that perhaps to many people there doesn't seem to be a need to encourage girls to go to school. However, here in many parts of Morocco, not only do fewer girls complete as much schooling as boys, but additionally, they feel pressure to get married and start having families of their own, rather than focus on becoming more educated while they are young. Accordingly, I asked, "Who else can encourage her?"

A student replied, "Other family members." Again, wanting to keep them thinking in specific, personal terms, I asked them which family members. They started rattling off many family members, including father, sister, grandfather, brother, mother, uncle and aunt, all of which I wrote on the board next to "husband."

I wanted to make sure that I adequately emphasized the role which anyone can play in empowering girls, and thus women. Consequently, I aimed to develop further the theme of taking personal responsibility. I said, "Any of these people, her father, her sister, her brother, her uncle could think, 'I'm not deciding whether she goes to school.' But they do have to decide what they're going to say to her. And just like her family members have to take responsibility for what they say to her, we also have the responsibility for what we say to girls who are in this situation. So you see that International Women's Day is about raising our consciousness about the needs and challenges which women and girls face."

The students asked me what it means to raise your consciousness. I explained that once you've raised your consciousness about certain problems, such as the challenges which women face, then you know more about these problems, and thus you can speak more intelligently about them. Also, now that you see why it's important to be educated about these problems, you're also going to do something to help. Now that your consciousness has been raised about these problems, it has become important to you to do something to help.

At least that's my wish. I hope that yesterday I planted and watered some seeds of concern and care about the plight of women and girls in the international community, so that these students, in their daily lives, may bear some beneficial fruits in their efforts to improve the lives of women and girls around the world.

Ask Her

Last night I was in the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic) where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco. At the dar chebab, I do most of my volunteering as teaching and tutoring Moroccan students in English.

Yesterday in the dar chebab, a student opened his notebook and asked me to explain certain words which were in his notes which he had taken down during his English class. He especially wanted me to explain the word "ambition" to him, which I did. I also explained other related vocabulary to him, such as the verbs "to hope" and "to aspire." Later he clarified that he had been assigned to write an e-mail to a friend explaining what his own ambitions are.

Before I realized that the teacher had assigned him to write about his own aspirations, I thought he was asking me for a topic about which he could write. Students often ask me for subjects about which they can write in English; then they write something so they can practice their English, and then I correct what they have written. Thinking that he had requested a topic about which he could write, I asked him if he had a sister. He replied that he has a sister. I suggested to him that he write an e-mail to his friend explaining what his sister's ambitions are.

The student replied that he didn't know what his sister's ambitions are. Unfortunately I can't say that I was surprised. At least here in southern Morocco, which is such a relatively conservative region of the country, girls and women are widely expected not only to get married, but to work in the home and raise their children. I wouldn't find it surprising if girls' and women's husbands, brothers and other male relatives simply don't ask them what they would most like to be. I suggested to the student that he ask his sister what her ambitions are.

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.

Another Way to Encourage Girls To Be Confident

One night this week, I was teaching an English class of both boys and girls at the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV here in Morocco. Moroccan kids don't seem to be used to raising their hands when answering questions I pose to them when I'm teaching a class. I direct them that if they know the answer to raise a hand. Often they'll just shout out the answer, but sometimes a student will actually raise his or her hand. I'll then call on a student who has raised his or her hand.

I love it especially when girls raise their hands in response to questions I ask when I'm teaching. It shows that they're confident. It's important to reinforce such self-confidence, especially in girls, who don't get as many chances to assert themselves here. Therefore, I try to be sure not to call on boys raising their hands more often than I call on girls raising their hands. By calling on a girl raising her hand, I'm encouraging her in how she is being confident by raising her hand.

A Simple Way to Help Girls Be Confident

As a Youth Development PCV here in Morocco, I do most of my volunteering in a dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"). Mostly I teach and tutor boys and girls in English there.

Since I want them to learn English well, I try to reinforce and otherwise complement the English lessons they have in school. Rather than overloading them with too much information to learn by introducing new vocabulary and grammatical rules in addition to the ones they're learning in school, I teach them about the same material they're studying in school.

Yesterday, I was teaching an English class with a small group of four girls. They asked me to teach them about the rooms of a house and what is often found in each room, since they're studying those words in school. In addition to reviewing relevant vocabulary with them, I was showing them how to use some of the words in sentences. So, I was writing sentences such as "He is making couscous" and "She was hungry, so she asked me to make couscous" on the board.

At one point, one of the girls asked me a question, but she was covering her mouth with her hand. Recently I was reading a Peace Corps publication about doing activities with girls. In it, I read about how a girl who is not confident at times will speak with a hand over her mouth. I also read in that book that by asking a girl to pose her question without her hand over her mouth, you're encouraging her to speak with more self-confidence. Before I'd read that part of that book, I would ask a girl who had posed a question with her hand over her mouth to repeat her question with her mouth uncovered so I could better hear and thus understand the question. However, having recently read this book, last night I asked this particular girl to restate her question while not covering her mouth, for the added purpose of trying to help her to speak with more confidence. Last night, I left the youth center once again reminded that we can encourage and support others in so many ways, some of which are so simple, that often we don't even think of them. However, if we try to be more conscious, alert and sensitive, we will see that in every interaction that we have, we have a chance to show how we believe we should treat others.

Teaching English As A Means To Other Ends

The Peace Corps tells PCVs to teach English not just as an end in itself, but additionally to educate host country kids about various issues while also teaching them English. This week I've realized that one can do so more easily and quickly than I had been previously doing.

Here in Morocco, as a Youth Development volunteer, I teach and tutor kids in English at a dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"). Moroccan kids receive their main form of formal education in Moroccan schools, which, for most Moroccan kids, are public schools. Sometimes kids want a little extra help with what they've been learning in their English classes in school, so they come to the youth center to ask me questions about English.

Earlier this week, some boys asked me to explain trafficking in women. One of them had opened his English textbook to a lesson which was discussing trafficking in women. Often in the youth center, Moroccan youths ask me what certain words mean. In this particular case, though, I not only defined certain words in the textbook lesson for them, but I also described how trafficking in women occurs. I related to them how some women are intimidated or deceived into going with men who actually kidnap them. I also explained that some women go with such men because the women feel under economic duress, in the context of the severe economic challenges they face in their lives. It certainly seemed beneficial to not only be telling them the meaning of words, but also to be educating them about how many women are exploited, so that they can be more informed individuals.

Sometimes the youths ask me to teach them vocabulary about topics which, at first blush, don't seem immediately to relate to any urgent current issue. However, often in retrospect, I've realized that when this appears to be the case, one can discuss such vocabulary in the context of the greater societal phenomena in the particular culture and country where one is. More specifically, earlier this week at the youth center, some girls asked me to teach them in English about professions. I seized upon their request to additionally educate them about women working in professions where they might not expect women to be employed. For example, while I wrote the sentence "My father is a lawyer" on the board, I also wrote "My mother is a doctor" and "Her sister is a university professor" on the board. I wrote these sentences on the board partly to remind these girls that women can work in these professions. However, I also wrote these sentences on the board as reflections of how prevalent female doctors and female university professors are here in Morocco. One-third of doctors, attorneys and university professors in Morocco are women. However, these girls might not envision so many university professors being women. Not only are these girls not yet enrolled in universities, but as far as I know, every primary school teacher, middle school teacher, and high school teacher I've met here in town has been male. Thus, in teaching English, one can introduce to youths that not only do things not have to be the way that they see them, but perhaps things are in fact different in other countries, or even elsewhere in one's own country.

In teaching English, one can show youths not only that their worldview assumptions are not necessarily accurate, but similarly, also one can help them gain logical reasoning skills. Last night at the youth center, some boys asked me to teach them vocabulary in English about family. Again, on the surface, one might not see any opportunities to transform a common English lesson into a more challenging activity for youths. However, after introducing the words "mother," "father," "parent," "son," "daughter," "child," "brother," "sister" and "sibling" to them, I then presented them with some sentences, including "All mothers are parents" and "All parents are fathers," and asked them which sentences were true. We continued until they understood that all mothers are parents, but not all parents are fathers.

I very much enjoy teaching English. It brings a lot of joy to me to help others, including when I teach English. But I've found that I spend my time even better when I not only teach English, but while doing so, also help youths learn about important current affairs, help them gain new perspectives, and develop their logical reasoning and critical thinking skills. While it's helpful to know how to speak English, youths will be even better prepared for the rest of their lives if they are more aware and if they seek to more critically evaluate the choices which lie ahead.

Classroom Shenanigans

At the end of last week, a dozen teenage students asked me to teach them how to write a cover letter to send when applying for a job. So I started teaching them how to do so. First I wrote an outline of the letter, with a general description of its structure. At one point, a few girls got up and left the room, then re-entered after not too long. When I finished laying out the structure on the dry erase board, I turned around to get the eraser so I could erase the structure and go through an actual example with them. The eraser was gone. I kept asking where the eraser was. Finally one of them got up and retrieved it outside where they had hid it.

I then started going through the specific example letter, with specific (though fictional) addresses and people, and an imaginary job mentioned in it. At one point, I had to change something I had written on the board. I again turned around to get the eraser, and again found that it was gone. I was both irritated with the students, as well as with myself for placing it behind me again after the first time they had hid it. I let myself get angry enough so that they could see the anger on my face, but I didn't yell at them. One of them told me not to get angry, then soon thereafter the eraser was returned to me. For the rest of the lesson, I kept the eraser on the board in front of me, avoiding any further shenanigans.

Last night I was teaching an English class with a much larger group of students, mostly about food and mealtimes. I used the opportunity to teach them that people in the USA often eat lunch and dinner earlier than many Moroccans do. (Moroccans tend to eat lunch between 1:30p.m. and 3:00p.m., and sometimes later than that! They tend to eat dinner after 8:30p.m., and sometimes after 10:00p.m.!)

Anyway, the classroom was nearly full; I think that there were nearly 30 students in the room. Soon after I got started, more students were coming into the room. I had to keep stopping the lesson because the new arrivals were distracting the students who were already in the room. Finally a couple of students came in with a couple of chairs, and were trying to shove their way to some free space near the front of the room. I concluded that I had to stop the distracting and disruptive interruptions. Although I wasn't actually as irritated as I probably appeared to be, I bodily removed the two students who were trying to shove their way to the front of the room. For the rest of the class, the rest of the students who were left in the room behaved much better than Moroccan students usually behave when I teach...

An Invitation To Become a Work of Art

On my way here to the cyber today, I was greeted by a young woman. I stopped to exchange greetings with her. As I was doing so, I noticed that she had henna on her hands. It looked like the person who had drawn it onto her hands had done a pretty good job. Suddenly she asked me if I wanted henna on my hands.

Although Moroccan girls and women often have henna on their hands, I don't think I've ever seen Moroccan men with henna on their hands. But then I remembered that my friend and former fellow PCV, Ben, had had henna on his hands, but just a big blotch of it, not crafted into any sort of design. Thinking of how he had had it on his hands, I agreed, somewhat hesitantly, to have some henna put onto my hands.

I then saw that the young woman's friend standing next to her had one of the syringes used to apply henna to the skin. I extended my hand to her, slightly concerned about what she was going to draw on my hand, thinking that Moroccan women have designs of henna drawn onto their hands, but that Moroccan men don't have henna designs drawn onto their hands.

However, soon after she started drawing on my hand, it became clear what she was writing. When I discerned that she was writing an "A" on my hand, I started laughing, since I had realized that she was going to write my Arabic name, "Abdu," or "Abdo," on my hand, which in fact she did. I thanked her, appreciating her generosity in sharing her henna with me, and her sense of humor in writing my Arabic name on my hand.

Moroccan women usually use henna for purposes other than writing people's names. They use it often for at least a couple of purposes. One is to color the skin and fingernails. As I've mentioned, women use henna on the skin to draw designs on women's hands. However, Moroccan women also apply it to their hair, so as to give their hair an orange tint. People have also applied it to leather, wool and silk. I've also seen it applied onto pottery here in Morocco, though the potter who I saw doing so down in the town of Tamegroute, which is well-known for its pottery, told me that only potters of that region apply henna to pottery; he said that potters elsewhere in Morocco don't apply henna to pottery. The henna plant is grown here in Morocco.

When it is applied to the hands, one has to wait (less than an hour) for the very dark brown henna to dry. After not too long, the gooey dark brown henna hardens, and will fall off very soon if you don't wash it off. Indeed, as I have been typing this blog entry, pieces of the hardened henna have kept falling in front of the keyboard on which I have been typing. At this point, most of the dark brown hardened henna has fallen off, revealing, on the palm of my hand, orange-rust colored letters spelling "Abdo."

There's A First Time For Everything...

Earlier this week, I met Stan, the other PCV who lives here in the same town where I live here, at a café for some coffee. As we were sitting there, we shared our musings about our lives here in Morocco. At one point, I told Stan that, in my ten months of living here in this town, while I have seen foreign female tourists sitting at cafés here in our town, I have never, not even once, seen Moroccan women or Moroccan girls sitting in a café here in town.

When we got up to pay for our cups of coffee, we saw two Moroccan teenage girls sitting at a table in the café. There's a first time for everything... Literally one or two seconds later, I looked further towards the front of the café, and saw three Moroccan women sitting at another table. There's a second time...

Taking The Wheel

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

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

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

First Visit Back to the USA

So, in the last couple of weeks I made my first visit back to the USA since I started to live in Morocco in September last year. It was a lot of fun!

To take things in order: the morning I left my town, I showed up to the office of one of the bus companies here in my town and found out that the early bus out of my town was going to be full. I always go to the bus company office the day before I catch a bus to buy my ticket for the bus I'm going to catch the next day. But the day before I left my town to head to the USA, the bus company office was closed both times that I went to it that day. So that morning that I was leaving my town, after finding out that the bus was going to be full, I headed to the grand taxi stand in my town. Given that there are multiple ways of leaving my town, I wasn't concerned about making it to the airport in Marrakech for my flight the next day. Nevertheless, as I was waiting for a taxi to fill up, I appreciated how I saw a truck drive by with a large sticker on its windshield that said, "Don't Worry."

In fact, once I got out of a taxi at a stop about an hour from my town, I managed to get on the bus I had been told was full when I had still been in my town. Apparently the bus was only full until that stop where I got on the bus. I was thankful to be on a bus and not crammed into a grand taxi during most of the ride to Marrakech.

Later that day, I arrived in Marrakech, which provided the context of the blog entry immediately preceding this current one. I was glad to be on my trip!

Early the next morning, I checked out of my hotel and began walking toward the nearest petit taxi stand there in Marrakech. Before I got to the taxi stand, a middle-aged guy approached me and asked me if I wanted a taxi. I replied in Arabic, "Yeah, but it's going to be expensive." He replied in French, "No, seventy." I had heard from another PCV that a taxi driver in Marrakech had told him it cost 100 dirhams to get to the airport. Further, after dusk and before dawn, taxi drivers in Morocco charge one-and-a-half times the regular fare for any particular taxi ride. So, when this driver told me it would only cost 70 dirhams, I figured I was being charged less than the usual price, and took him up on his offer. On the way to the airport, I was thinking all of this, especially in light of how some taxi drivers in Marrakech clearly had tried to overcharge me on previous visits to that city. So after I paid him, when I was getting out of the taxi, I told him in French that he was an honest man, and told him in Arabic, "God be with you."

I was very glad that my flight from Marrakech to Casablanca, and my flight from Casablanca to Brussels, Belgium both went without incident. I happily ate some delicious food in Brussels, stayed overnight there, and the next day continued my journey to the USA. Finally, after one grand taxi, one bus, two petit taxis, one train, four trams, one metro, five planes, and one car ride, I arrived at my parents' home in the USA, 72 hours after I left my apartment in the Sahara.

I was very happy to spend time with my folks, and also with my sister, who was also visiting them at the same time. In addition to enjoying their company, I also was very happy to eat food I can't eat, or at the very least, can't easily come by, in Morocco. My mom made some delicious lasagna. I loved having bacon for breakfast (remember that Morocco, being a Muslim country, does not have a lot of pork, bacon and ham in it, except in cities, and more likely in the larger ones, and even then, it's not ubiquitous).

Another stark difference of which I was very conscious: though I hadn't forgotten, nevertheless, on my visit back to the USA, I was very conscious of how women are not covered up like women are in my town here in the Sahara. As I visited restaurants and shops, and walked around on sidewalks in the USA, I was repeatedly struck by how women in the USA often wear clothing which shows all of their arms up to the tops of their shoulders, their legs well above their knees, and, from time to time, exposes their midriffs. I was taking this all in in contrast to the women in my town here in the Sahara, who are covered sometimes literally from head to toe (that is, everything except their faces and their hands). If they're not that covered up, then they are only exposing below their ankles, even now, during the hottest part of the year, here in the Sahara. If a woman is exposing herself any more than that in my town, it is rare (unless she is visiting this town from a larger city and/or is a tourist).

I suppose that I was struck on my recent visit back to the USA by how relatively uncovered women in the USA are, even though in my everyday life in Morocco, I have been very conscious of how covered rural Moroccan women are, because throughout my life, I've been used to women dressing as they like. In other words, I was raised under certain customs, and those are still the ones to which I am most easily accustomed. Which brings me to a larger observation I had during my trip back to the USA. As I was processing my thoughts about what it was like being back in the USA, often out loud, in conversations with my parents and sister, finally my mom paraphrased my many observations, and said, "So, being here feels normal." And I said yes, that it just felt normal being back in the USA. I wasn't experiencing reverse culture shock, since I must say that I don't feel Moroccan. While I've adjusted to life in Morocco, I still feel like a citizen of the USA living in Morocco. So while it wasn't a gigantic relief to be spending time in the USA, it just felt good because it felt natural.

That is to say, I haven't adopted the customs of Morocco as my own. While I feel like I've adjusted to living in Morocco, I don't think of it as my own culture. When I got back to the USA, having been constantly faced with rural Moroccan women so covered up, it was a major change to see women so relatively uncovered, as I have for most of my life. I felt like I was returning to a culture which felt more natural for me, and for that reason, among others, I was enjoying my visit.

After a good visit with my folks and my sister at my folks' place, I flew to New York, where I again met up with my sister. When we had our first lunch there, I had such a good pastrami on rye sandwich. The pastrami melted in my mouth! At that meal, I also had some of the best cheesecake I had ever had.

I continued onward and then spent time with more of my extended family. The next day, a relative threw a barbeque where I got to spend time with a good number of my relatives. It was great to see them. They had a lot of questions for me about my life in Morocco and in my town, and about my work. At that barbeque, I loved eating a variety of things I don't get to eat here in Morocco, among them pulled pork.

The following day, I attended the wedding of a friend of mine to his sweetheart. I see their wedding as reflecting another difference between culture in the USA and Moroccan culture. My friend is Jewish, and his wife is Christian. By contrast, over 98 percent of Moroccans are Muslim. And on top of that, many of the relatively small number of Moroccans who are not Muslim are not that recognizable.

At the wedding, as throughout my visit back to the USA, people were asking me a lot of questions about Morocco and my life here. So of course I was talking a lot about life here.

On the rest of my trip, I was happy that I had the chance to see other friends. Among them, I met up with a mentor of mine, who had also been a teacher of mine years ago, and who had been a PCV himself before me. While we had previously spoken about our Peace Corps experiences, we spoke more over brunch about being PCVs. He told me that when he was a PCV, he left his town twice in one year, since it was so isolated, and since there were so few transportation options. While I have many times thanked God for the many blessings which have been bestowed on me, including during my time as a PCV, I became even more grateful for my current living situation once he told me how isolated his village was. I was also thankful and appreciative of his guidance and support.

It was great to get to see my friends while I was back. I feel recharged after spending time with them and receiving their encouragement. And, I was happy that, during the last couple of days of my visit in the USA, I shared great food with them, including more bacon, ice cream, and cupcakes, among other tasty morsels.

Once I split off from my friends and started heading for the airport, though, I was looking forward to getting back here. As I was on the way to JFK, I was thinking that since I wasn't going to get to see any more of my family or friends, and since I wasn't going to visit anywhere else in the USA or do anything else there, I just wanted to get back to Morocco. To get the long trip back done.

After I landed on the last of my three flights back from the USA, and was about to exit the airport in Marrakech, I decided to utilize the information desk at the airport. As I approached the desk, I saw a few Moroccan girls huddled together in conversation. I asked them in Arabic where I could catch the bus. They directed me to where I would find it, expressing surprise and smiling as they commented that I was speaking Arabic.

Having gotten the tip from a second-year PCV to take the bus from the Marrakech airport into the city of Marrakech, rather than being charged more for a taxi, I was happy to only pay 20 dirhams to take the bus to my hotel. And, it didn't even take significantly longer than a taxi would have taken.

The next day, I woke up late, exhausted from so many days of traveling over the previous two weeks. I caught a morning bus back down here to my town. Traveling through the High Atlas mountains, I was again surprised and pleased that in the summer month of July, with no snow visible on the mountains, I saw waterfalls flowing down some of the mountains.

I arrived back in my town late that afternoon, exhausted, but happy to have spent time in the USA with my family and friends, including at the wedding of one of my best friends.

Proposals

So over the last couple of months, I've had a couple of Moroccan girls (yes, as best as I can tell, they were girls, meaning under the age of 18) essentially ask me to marry them. To get more specific:

So at the end of December, before I had started teaching English classes, I had started answering random, sporadic questions about English in what largely resembled tutoring. On one of those days in late December, some teenage girls asked me to speak with them, so we stepped into a classroom together. I assumed that they had some questions about learning English. But there weren't any questions about English. There was some small talk going on in the room, all in Arabic. Then, seemingly out of the blue, the following exchange occurred, all in Darija:

Moroccan girl: How long will you be living in Morocco?
Me: Two years.
Same Moroccan girl: When you return to America, will I be going with you?

Since I've been asked how I replied, I'll add here that I gave the diplomatic response, "I don't know." She seemed irritated at my evasiveness, adding at that point, "You don't know much." I just let the conversation dissipate, since it was not a dialogue which I was particularly interested in having!

Then, last month, in January, I was sitting in a classroom, actually about to start tutoring some Moroccan girls in English, when another Moroccan girl walked into the classroom, and asked me in Darija if she and I were going to get married. Right after she left the classroom, when I turned back to the girls there for tutoring, one of them said to me in Darija, referring to the girl who asked me about getting married, "She's a little crazy."

Some comparative commentary here: while my experiences with discussions of marriage, or insinuations thereof, have tended toward the humorous, many female PCVs in Morocco have had very different experiences. Notably, many female PCVs in Morocco have experienced unwanted attention which has made them uncomfortable. And, some female PCVs have received actual marriage proposals, and some female PCVs have received many of them. One female PCV in Morocco in the 1990s received 60!

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...