In site!

Wow.

I didn't expect to be able to come to internet so soon, but I'm back in my souk town for the day because I need to apply for my carte de sejour (like a green card). Lots of steps to take for that and it's frustrating, but I'll get to that soon.

First of all, let me just say that yesterday was one of the most stressful but ultimately empowering days I've had in quite a while.

I got to site two days ago on the late transit and pretty much just relaxed at my host-family's house. It was nice and people seemed to be just as welcoming as I had remembered. I did get yelled at by the neighbor woman next door, the matriarch of the family, for not calling to see how everyone was. Oops. She doesn't have a cell phone though, but she said I was a good person even though I didn't call. Good thing she's forgiving.

Yesterday morning, I woke up and decided to go to the commune, which is the headquarters of the local government. I had to let the khalifa (appointed government official) know I was in town. Oh, yes, in case you were wondering, as far as safety goes, the government takes our safety very seriously and gendarmes pretty much know where we are at all times. One way they do this is through the khalifa, so every time I come and go, I let him know where I'm going.

I had some attestations de travail, which are just letters stating that I'm working at Tamazitinu to drop off, and I also just want to establish a good relationship with local government as soon as possible. Well, the khalifa wanted me to bring some photos of me so I planned to come back at noon with them. We made pleasant conversation and I filled out some forms in French and I met the Rais (president of the commune; locally elected) and walked out the door, proud that I had been able to accomplish that on my first day in site. If that had been the only "work," I'd have considered it a productive day. After all, for someone who can be as insecure and fearful as I can be, walking in and just meeting local officials is intimidating. I was proud and confident as I left.

The sbitar is right next door to the commune, and the doctor was walking in as I was walking towards my hostfamily's house. The doctor immediately took me inside and introduced me to my counterpart, the nurse (he wasn't there when I was on site visit). An hour and a half meeting in French and Tamazight ensued and I was totally unprepared for it. My language skills were pretty feeble and I felt like an idiot for not knowing the difference between a vector or a vehicle as far as disease transmission goes. I also felt unprepared because I didn't have a questionaire or anything formal prepared for the nurse. Luckily, I had a copy of the project framework in French, but we didn't go over it. Yet.

All in all, given that I was unprepared, it went as well as could be expected. I learned a lot about what the sbitar does and when it travels to outer douars as well as what he perceives as the biggest health issues in the site. I hope to be able to go on a few drives to the outer douars because they sound really remote and like I may be able to do some good work there. We'll see if that's considered in my site or not.

The nurse then left to go to a meeting that he invited me to (even though it would all be in Arabic) but I had to go home to get the pictures to meet with the Khalifa at noon. He seems like he will be a great counterpart to work with, and I'm looking forward to sitting down with him when I'm actually ready to meet and start observing and discussing things.

I gave the pictures to the Khalifa and he invited me to lunch at the house of the moqaddam. Sure. Why not? It's good to accept these invitations, I think, so I said yes. He dropped me off at the Rais's house (which is huge and nice because he has family working in Europe that sends money home)to kill time before lunch, and I talked in English to his high-school aged sister for a few minutes and ate delicious sticky dates and not-so-delicious but still good buttermilk. Then, they picked me up in a car (!) and drove me to the moqaddam's house. They made me sit up front and the Rais and some others sat in the back. A bit awkward, especially when the rais told me in French that my Tamazight was "insufficient," but worse things have happened. Shwiya b shwiya. They don't know Peace Corps yet. I'll improve.

Things got even more hairy at the moqaddam's house. It ends up all the important men in town were eating lunch there: three moqaddams (the eyes and ears of the khalifa), the rais, the doctor, the nurse, the khalifa...others... and so I was the only woman. And I couldn't really communicate. Someone, I think it was the Rais, turned to me and asked if I wanted to eat with the men or the women. It was an awkward moment. My choice, he said. I said (French), "Whichever is better; I don't know your customs," and the doctor said I should eat with the women in the kitchen. Fine. Easier. Less stressful. After all, the doctor is someone I'll probably be working with. I'll take my cultural cues from him.

I went up to the kitchen and one of the officials came and asked why I wasn't downstairs. I wanted to scream, but I said "I can go..." I think it's just as awkward for them as it was for me. They don't quite know what to do with me either. Current volunteers (wait... I AM a current volunteer... okay, veteran volunteers) tell me that as women PCVs, we are like a third gender: neither entirely male nor entirely female. It's going to be a challenge exploring how to work through this in a practical and culturally sensitive way. The rais asked me why I wasn't downstairs and he asked if I was shy, so I went downstairs. I told him someone said it was better for me to be with the women and he answered "That depends on your mentality." I'm going to hope he meant the general population when he said "your" and not my personal mentality, but we'll see. I'm encouraged he wanted me to eat with them.

Luckily, another woman had come. LHamdullah! She is the president of the netti and I don't know if they got her to come just for my benefit but it made me feel a lot better. I sat and talked to her mostly and the khalifa some through a four-course three-hour long lunch. Intense. It was uncomfortable but I made it through and was absolutely exhausted. I thought I'd drop off paperwork at the commune, not have a long meeting in French with my nurse and then an intimidating lunch with all of the officials in the town. Heh. I guess I can't go into anything with any sort of expectation at all. Every day is an adventure.

So... the rest of the day was less intense, I suppose. I rested at my hostmother/sister's father's house. We went to two other women's houses, one for more couscous and one for tea. The second was another mansion. It's strange. My town has really wealthy people alongside people living in more modest mud homes, depending on how many family members work abroad. In some houses, I wonder why Peace Corps (and myself) are here because it's just so nice, even if it is on a dirt road... but then I hear the woman sitting next to me say she had ten children but six have died. Or I see a room with literally hundreds if not over a thousand flies landing on faces and food in a room right next door to where there are sheep. I see bathrooms and kitchens without soap, and hear women who are 8 months pregnant say that there she will give birth at home without a traditional birth attendant, a midwife, doctor, or nurse. I ask where to put trash and they say "throw it outside" or "in the water." There IS work for me here. It's just going to be rough becoming less of a helpless child who knows nothing and becoming a respected adult with good information.

Right now, I feel like I have no credibility. I think by virtue of being foreign, they are more tolerant of some things, but I see their mentality. I don't know the language, I'm not a doctor, I'm not a nurse, I'm not old, I don't have a whole lot of experience, and I don't know their culture. I came into the Peace Corps knowing that the first few months if not my entire service would feel this way to me. What right do I have to come in and instigate change? Do I believe in Peace Corps as a means of development?

I know, it's a lot to take in for the first day. And, yes, ultimately, I think I do believe in Peace Corps. I'm not in danger of leaving because I want to be there. I see things that I can do and ways I can maybe start mobilizing people for change, but at the same time, I need to relax and take the first few months to just learn and observe, and focus on that. And people in Tamazitinu are welcoming me and open to helping me learn. I just wonder how long it will take before I become as able to function as an adult in the community, and how long it will take to build credibility.

So. Now I am in my souk town. Apparantly I can't apply yet for a carte de sejour beause my letters aren't stamped by the right people. When I went to the commune here in this town to get them stamped the way that the gendarmes told me, the commune people said I had to take them to Tamazitinu to get them stamped by the Khalifa there. I just hope I can apply in time: I only have 90 days from the time I entered Morocco to be here legally without a recipt saying I've at least applied for the carte.

But it's still been a productive and empowering day. It's intimidating just walking into the gendarmes headquarters, or a random commune (or association, like I did today. The word for commune, association, mosque, and university are almost identical and my Arabic is minimal, so I walked into an association asking for a government official. Oops. So it goes.). My French is coming back a little at a time (lHamdullah!) and I think my confidence will build. I'm proud of putting myself out there. It's the little victories. Shwiya b shwiya. Imiq s imiq. I'll laugh at myself, hope I learn from my failures, and keep plugging away. After all, I asked at lunch yesterday about tutors and have a possible tutor at my site (I need to find her!), and I even got to do a small one-on-one health lesson about how flies can cause illness with one of the women at one of the houses I went to yesterday. Even though it was just one person, it counts as work and it counts as something.

I have more errands to run here, so I can't stay long. I have to get another attestation from the conscription hospital that oversees my sbitar and the doctor in charge wasn't there this morning. I'm going to enlist the help of a veteran volunteer to see if maybe I can get my letters stamped elsewhere. We'll see. Hopefully, all should turn out well. Enshallah. And I get to travel with other PCVs to the provincial capital in three short days, so it's like easing myself into this. After this weekend, another group of people who understand what life is like right now and are going through similar things... we all have our different but similar struggles.

Wish me luck. It's a challenge. There were a lot of lows yesterday, but there are also lots of highs. Think of me and send positive thoughts because I have to stay optimistic and shwiya b shwiya in order to be able to make it through the first few rocky months. It's what I wanted though. I'm enjoying the challenge. It's hard, but I'm enjoying it, even if it's just the moments of my 1-year old host-sister singing to herself and grabbing my finger and not letting go, or the women telling me if I live in Tamazitinu for two years, I will become a Berber woman. It's good, even if it's hard.

Much love. Ixssayi ad-dugh s sbitar ixatr ad-sawlgh ghif adbib ghif hayat salaam d ad-amzgh attestation yadnin. Ixssayi ad-dugh s gendarmiya d inshallah gendarme ad-iawn ghif tambrinu. Ixssayi ad-swunfugh imiq.

Until next time, most likely next week from the provincial capital. We may splurge and pay to get into a hotel with a swimming pool. Now that's something to look forward to.

agh rbbi str.