Be Like The Children

Last week as I was walking back to the apartment where I've been living here in the Sahara, I passed a few different groups of children. I was struck by how carefree they were, apparently not caring about their surroundings.

First I crossed paths with three little ones, perhaps three, four and five years old, who were snaking their way down the sidewalk, as they trotted along. The one all the way in back had his hands on the hips of the middle one, who had his hands on the hips of the front one. They were pretending to be some sort of motorized vehicle, making beeping sounds as they navigated their way around people and items being sold on the dusty sidewalk.

Later I saw a little boy, maybe five or six years old, who was rolling a bicycle tire down a dirt road. One often sees kids here in town setting a tire rolling and then running after it, keeping it rolling by pushing it along with a stick.  They find amusement and opportunities for play in what they happen to find around them.

During this walk back to the apartment, I was greeted by other little children. As is so often the case when I am greeted by little children here in Morocco, they cheerfully greeted me in French by declaring, "Bonjour!"

Soon after I had seen all these little children, playing and otherwise seeming to be so happy, despite the poverty in which they are residing, unbothered to be living so simply, without many material comforts, I thought of a particular teaching of Jesus. In considering how joyous these children seem to be in such circumstances, I pondered that such an approach to life perhaps is at least part of what Jesus meant, at Matthew 18:4, when he counseled, "Whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven."

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.

A Refreshing Display Of Courtesy

Recently I was walking down the sidewalk in the town in which I live here in the Sahara. I'm grateful when I'm in a spot where there is a sidewalk on which I can walk. In many locations in Morocco, there isn't one. Many Moroccans tend to walk in the street, even where there is a sidewalk.

Anyway, as I was walking down the sidewalk, a man exited a store and our paths crossed. We both stopped, which was an uncommon sight. Typically two people in that scenario in Morocco would immediately get around each other and quickly continue on their ways. But he and I each were waiting for the other person to go first. After we each had finally continued walking our separate ways, I thought how unusual that encounter was. Very often here in Morocco, people just go where they're going, without yielding to others. It may seem like a simple thing, but I greatly appreciated his refreshing, considerate display of courtesy.

The Long Goodbye

My friend Ben just COSd (closed his service) as a PCV last month. After he COSd, he was traveling around Africa for a few weeks. He recently returned to Morocco during the course of his travels, but I'd already bid him farewell more than once, each time thinking that I wasn't going to see him again before he left Africa. As I was on a bus on my way back to my town yesterday, I received a text message from him. He asked me if I was still planning on not being in my town that night. I texted him back and told him I'd be there in 20 minutes. I didn't expect to see him again until sometime after I COS myself. I'm currently scheduled to COS in November 2012, so I didn't expect to see him again until sometime after that, and I didn't expect to see him until we were both back in the US.

When I arrived back in my town, I learned that he was immediately trying to get on a bus. I knew that he had been planning on leaving the province that day to make his way north out of Morocco, on his gradual way back to the US. However, once I received the text in which he said he was in my town, I thought that he would just want to stay the night in my living room, and leave the next morning. He quickly ascertained that all of the buses were full, so it became clear that he would be crashing at my place last night.

We took all of his belongings to my apartment, and I got to host him one more time before he heads back to the US as a RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). This morning, on our way to the town square, he stopped at the post office and bought a large box. He emptied some of his belongings into the box. During the process, he gave me a couple of things, including a backpack! I was grateful for it, and thanked him for it. Then he sent the box to his family in the US, so he would have fewer things to carry on his circuitous travels back to the US. Once he had finished dealing with the box, we continued up to the town square, and, more specifically, to the taxi stand for folks headed north. After we loaded his bags into the grand taxi, we were waiting for the taxi to fill up. The guys running the taxi stand, as always, asked how many places he wanted. Ben replied, "Wahd," meaning "One," since he was traveling by himself.

He and I then passed the time while waiting for the taxi to fill up partly by taking pictures, including of his stuffed teddy bear. Ben is making an adventure picture book for his young niece in which he is chronicling the adventures of his bear, Jillabo, during travels around the world. As Ben travels, he places Jillabo in various locations around the globe, making it appear as if Jillabo is doing a variety of things such as climbing towers, sitting on sidewalks, and traveling in taxis. During our wait for Ben's taxi to fill up, one of the guys at the taxi stand again asked Ben how many places he needed in the taxi. Ben again replied, "Wahd." The Moroccan guy replied, "Lla; juj," meaning, "No; two," as he pointed first to Ben, and said, "Wahd," and then pointed to Jillabo and said, "Juj." When you like a joke someone tells here or some other humorous comment, often you shake the person's hand, so I shook the guy's hand for that one.

And a little later, "Safi, baraka." That's it, enough. The driver said it was time to go. The taxi had filled up. Ben and I hugged each other and he got into the taxi. It promptly pulled away as he finally headed out from the province.

Feeling Like a Goldfish in a Bowl

When my Peace Corps recruiter interviewed me at the Peace Corps office in Oakland just over two years ago, a couple of weeks after I had submitted my online application to be a PCV, he asked me a lot of questions, all of which were very appropriate. In the midst of those questions, he explained that in many towns and villages where PCVs live and serve, some people have never previously seen a US citizen. He added that a citizen of the US potentially might look very different to them than citizens of their own country. He then continued that, consequently, people might stare at PCVs. He then asked me something roughly like, "How are you going to deal with a lot of people staring at you as you walk down the street?" It was a very appropriate question, because when a PCV lives abroad, people often do stare at the PCV.

Indeed, I was led to write this particular blog entry because my experience here in Morocco provides a reliable example of the phenomenon which the recruiter described to me, of how a PCV might sometimes feel like a goldfish in a bowl, receiving stares. Last week the school year began here in Morocco. It reminded me of how I was very conscious, when I first started living here in my town, of how I received many stares as I walked down sidewalks and streets, amongst schoolkids who were loitering and going to and from school.

Not only have I not escaped stares here in my town, I have received stares here despite the presence of other non-Moroccans in my town. Tourists frequently visit my town, in order to see the palmeries and the rest of the desert landscape here. Further, I'm not the first PCV to have lived here in my town. Thus Moroccans living in my town have seen many non-Moroccans for years.

However, I have received, and still receive, stares here, from people of many different ages, because, in Morocco, it is not considered rude to stare at others. Without learning about such cultural phenomena as this one, one could potentially become quite unnerved and irritated. It's important to take the time to learn about cultural norms, so that one understands what is happening when it does happen. Of course, partly one learns about cultural norms while living in another country. But I suggest that upon arriving in a foreign country, it's best to deepen the understanding of the culture which, hopefully, one started to acquire through research one did before arriving in the host country, the foreign country.

One can then have a deeper, more educational and more satisfying experience in that foreign country. Regardless of the amount of research you've done before arriving in the host country, though, remember to consider the perspective of the other person, and how that person's life experiences have shaped his or her perspective. Having done so, you'll be in a better position to help achieve the third goal of the Peace Corps, that is, to help citizens of the U.S.A. gain a better understanding of people of other cultures.