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.

Proselytizing

Yesterday someone asked me if I'm Muslim. Moroccans regularly ask Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) here in Morocco, including me, this question. When we say that we're not Muslim, they subsequently proceed to try to convert us to Islam. However, despite how regularly we get asked this question, I still found it ironic that this occurred to me as I was returning from Mass yesterday on the tram. When I responded that I wasn't Muslim, essentially the person started trying to convert me to Islam. Actually the person who was doing this was one of the tram employees who monitors the tram and takes people's tram ticket stubs.

I left the interaction irritated for a couple of reasons. First, it's illegal for people to try to convert Muslim Moroccans to some religion other than Islam; but it's not illegal for Moroccans to try to convert you to Islam. Second, looking back at the conversation, I realized that I had felt irritated by it because I felt like it wasn't a dialogue; I felt it was much more like a monologue, a lecture. I felt like the man was completely uninterested in trying to learn about what I believe. When I told him that I'm Christian, he immediately proceeded to tell me that there aren't three gods, but that there is only one God. However, if he had tried to find out what I believe, by asking me questions rather than simply talking at me as he was doing, he would have learned that I believe that there is only one God, but that God has multiple facets, that God manifests in different ways.

I have always been irritated by, and uninterested in communicating with, others who don't try to understand my point-of-view. So it certainly makes sense that I left that interaction yesterday feeling irritated. However, in addition to generally being irritated by others who don't try to understand my point-of-view, I was also irked by this interaction yesterday because of how important my faith is to me. Given how I feel about my faith and its importance in my life, I very much didn't appreciate how this man was talking at me and was not trying to have an interactive discussion with me.

I enjoy telling people about the diversity of citizens of the USA. And one way I do that is that I just tell people what I believe, and by doing so, help people to better understand Christianity, and thus the religious diversity of the USA. But that interaction on the tram made me feel like that particular person wasn't even interested in learning about my faith and about diversity in the USA. I suppose that I have to remind myself that not everyone in Morocco will be as interested in learning about me and about the USA as I would like them to be.

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.