Convenience, Materialism

January 19, 2008

Life is strange these days. Three people in-country have left the Peace Corps in the last three weeks, which has been somewhat jarring. Even though I wasn’t particularly close to any of them, I have met and interacted to them all and really admire their good work. Your presence and examples will be missed, and I have a great deal of respect that one of you is going back to your community to finish up your work on your own.

Another way life has been bizarre is these random flashes I have occasionally to things at home; I’ll be cooking lunch and think randomly about Joe’s coffee house in Atlanta, or I’ll pull on a pair of long underwear and flash on the clothing aisles in Target; I’ll grind peanuts and think of row after row of peanut butter in a grocery store. My last care package had some DVDs of TV shows with commercials still in them, and when a commercial for Walgreens came on “Get whatever you want, whenever you want at a quick stop at your neighborhood Walgreens: convenient, close, and with everything you need!” I almost threw something at my computer. I had a dream about Walgreens once; that there was one in my souk town and how excited I was to be able to get so many things at one place.

I’m not saying that I don’t like the sort of home-grown feel of things here. I love the fresh vegetables: all organic, mostly pesticide-free, seasonal, and in many cases, from a five minute walk from my house. I love going to souk and wandering among the rows of spice vendors, vegetable vendors, poking into the used clothes stalls, and munching on popcorn or spiced chickpeas from the vendors as I shop. I even enjoy going to my regulars in my souk town: my vegetable guy who always throws in a few free pieces of fruit, the bakery where they still don’t know my name but are also still delighted with my Tashelheit, the hanut man who has decided that my Berber name is Znu who is my popcorn and flour guy, and the over-priced but well stocked place with goodies like ice cream powder mix, expensive canned mushrooms, and vermicelli noodles who always gives me a handful of dates as an apology for such high prices.

I even like wandering the women’s clothing souk, even though I can’t really afford to go clothes shopping that often, ducking in and out from under hanging clothes, peeking into alleys to see if they have stores or are just residential areas, staring at dried chameleons and oodles of different types of incense rocks and dried herbs at the traditional medicine stalls, hearing people who recognize the taromit who wanders through once a month tap their friends on their shoulders and whisper “there’s the foreigner who speaks Tashelheit,” trying to find the funniest or most inappropriate English slogans on clothing items (I won’t mention the most inappropriate here because it’s really bad, but some of my favorites are “Cocaine Nation” and “Cucchi,”) seeing the craziest colors of tracksuits or the funkiest mid-thigh length sweater-shirts, wanting to buy brightly colored glass beads or bolts of fabric or shades of yarn from the craftier stalls, and fingering dusty antiques from a more touristy place.

I love it. I wouldn’t give it up for Walgreens or Starbucks or Joe’s coffee shop or Target, not for anything, but sometimes I miss the convenience. Sometimes I’m shocked at what I can find in my town though: today at my favorite hanut, the buHanut was selling real threads of saffron.

I’ve been lazy today; I stayed in until about three, then went to a neighbor’s house and watched Dr. Phil and had tea and tabadirt. Tabidirt is one of my favorite winter foods: it’s cornbread stuffed with fat (but it melts and just tastes like butter or oil), scallions, hot pepper, cumin, and another spice called isufir (I forgot what it is in English!). It’s spicy and filling and absolutely delicious. If I can bring myself to actually buy fat, I may try to make some, though I bet it’d be similar and healthier with olive oil.

I’m trying to save money because I haven’t been budgeting as well as I should be, but it all slipped away when I went into a store in my souk town my nearest volunteer friend told me about. “It has beautiful things,” she told me.

And it does. It’s definitely a tourist shop and the prices reflect this, but the silver jewelry is, in my mind, exquisite. I especially love all the traditional things from the area. The owner of the shop travels to buy from the artisans and he gets a lot from nomads. He kept showing me pieces that were beautiful but not traditional and I told him that the things that had real meaning were what I was interested in, especially things from Ait Atta, the tribe that encompasses my site.

He showed me a pair of bracelets made of brass that he bought from his aunt: an older woman who grew up and is still a nomad in a region covered by Ait Atta. They are heavy, large, and almost crudely made, lacking some of the intricacies of the silversmithing. “She was running low on money so she sold them to me,” he told me. They were her wedding bracelets, and she wore them for years as they went with their animals to let them graze, staying often in tents.

I didn’t want to buy them because it seems like they are something that should go to her daughter, but when I held them, for some reason, it moved me. The weight of them, the way they felt in my hand (they are too small for my wrists), the idea of them being worn for the first time on this woman’s wedding night, the idea of her wearing them for years… I don’t know. They almost felt alive in my hands.

I paid too much for them. I didn’t want to buy them, but I knew that I’d keep thinking about it if I didn’t. The story called me. I tried to buy them both and give one back to him to give to his aunt so she could give it to her daughter, but he said that she would probably end up selling it again anyway, so I kept them both, and I haven’t been able to put them down ever since. I may see if I can get a smith somewhere to turn them into bracelets that open so I can wear them, though they’re too big and heavy and crude to wear at home.

My budgeting and supposed lack of materialism went out the window; they’re completely not utilitarian. Oh, well.
I’ve started being more honest about some of the differences between here and home with people. I’ve never denied drinking alcohol, but I’ve sort of made it seem like I’ve never drank; recently, I’ve explained, when asked, about wine and how my “prophet,” turned water into wine, so it’s not forbidden and even some clergy drink alcohol in moderation. Prophet isn’t the best word, but it’s the only thing that I can convey clearly in Tashelheit. I’ve also explained a lot about having male friends that are “just like a brother,” so it’s not shameful or looked down on to be alone with a man if you’re not married because many times women at home have male friends that are like brothers. I don’t know if it’s going to be bad that I’ve admitted to drinking at home and said that I’ve been alone with men before, but if part of my job is to do cross-cultural education, it’s better than being dishonest.

Here, unmarried women are never alone in a room with an unmarried man that is not in her family. Never. (Note: I’m talking about my particular community, not Morocco in general, or even rural Morocco or Amazigh people). The implication is that there will be some sort of hanky panky going on as a given. Even married women are seldom alone in a room with another man outside her family. It’s stressful to me trying to navigate the circumstances. Some people tell me to say hi to men on the street in my town even if I don’t know them. Some women tell me not to talk to them unless I have a reason to. I tend to take a conservative leaning middle ground: I’m friendly with my hanut guys, association people, men who are over 50, the commune staff, the sbitar staff, and teachers: all people I have an excuse to work with and be friendly towards. I’ll also say hi if other men who I know or recognize address me first in a respectful way, but other than that I pretty much ignore many of the men in my site out on the street. In their house, if there is another woman around, I’m friendly. I say hi to every woman I see in my site though.

I vacillate between feeling very lonely and feeling very integrated here. On Monday or Tuesday, six of my friends showed up at my house (with three kids under two!) and (thank God I had just baked!) had coffee and warm zucchini bread. The idea of having squash in a sweet bread was a bit foreign to them, but most of the women enjoyed it. Sometimes it’s more difficult than I anticipated though, not feeling like I have friends in my town I can relate to as well as I’d like. People are the same everywhere, in their hearts and souls, but the linguistic and cultural differences can be very daunting sometimes.

I’m still also frustrated at work, or the lack thereof. There is a fantastic curriculum for a women’s health class, but it’s only in English, French, and Arabic: not Tashelheit. I’m trying to find an Arabic-speaking woman who would be willing to help lead the classes, but I’m running into dead ends. I am working to get an incinerator built, but it feels more of something I’m imposing than a community-generated project. My girl’s group is going well, but it’s quite informal, and I missed another Equippe-Mobile run over Christmas, which is very disappointing to me. It’s not enough to make me want to go home, but the lack of work and the fact that there aren’t any organizations here who really want to work with me as far as health is concerned is disappointing.

I am happy with my World Wise Schools exchange: earlier this month I got my first batch of letters from a 10th grade social studies class in West Virginia. The questions were insightful and I love talking about my life and experiences here. I sent off a reply yesterday and am looking forward to their responses. If any other groups want to do any sort of exchange, let me know. I might even be able to hook up a group with an English class at my friend’s site nearby if Moroccan pen pals seem interesting. I signed up online to be matched with a group somewhere in the world for an art exchange with some of my neighbor girls, which is really exciting to me. Most likely, I’ll have to pay out of pocket, but it’s worth it.



January 21, 2008

Maybe I’m being too harsh in only letting little girls come over for my girls group. This morning, a new girl came to my doorstep. She looked familiar but I never saw her before. She looked young to be wearing a full headscarf, but I’ve seen younger.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Khadija!” she giggled, blushed, and looked away.

“No, what’s your real name?”

“Zahra!”

“Her name is Aisha Mbark Ait Ihiya!” said a friend, also giggling.

I looked closer. It was a little neighbor boy trying to come in. Wearing a headscarf.

I wish I had taken a picture. It was priceless.


January 22, 2008

Another potential project: building bathrooms for several schools. I didn’t realize that at least two if not more schools have no bathroom facilities at all for the students or teachers. We’ll see if this happens, but it seems like a real possibility.

January 28, 2008

It’s been a busy few days.

Qe had a quarterly meeting with the Delegation of the Ministry of Health at the provincial level on Friday, which meant that I spent both Thursday and Friday nights at one of my friend’s houses. Thursday morning, I helped my nearest friend do a birth control lesson at her sbitar, and was shocked, again, to see the differences between sites. Every time I visit someone, it makes me realize how unique my experience is because of linguistic, tribal, size, amenities, weather, transportation, landscape, quality of counterpart, friendliness of people, presence of good associations or communes to work with… and the list goes on. My friend who lives in a mountain town has to lug her water from a public fountain and has no cell phone reception and just got electricity this summer. Some volunteers have internet and satellite television in their houses.

Even though my friend’s site is only 8 or 10 k away as the crow flies, our experiences are night and day, which was clear when I helped her with her lesson. The two of us traveled to another friends’ site an hour and a half from the provincial capital so we could make it to the meeting in the morning. Budget cuts mean that we no longer get reimbursed for hotel stays, but, in all honesty, other than the lack of a hot shower and western toilet, it was just as comfortable at her site.

I was up all night Thursday with food poisoning, so I wasn’t in top shape for the meeting and it took a few minutes before I could get out a word of French. The Delegue representative was very complementary towards us, and it was the smoothest (and quickest!) meeting so far, which I appreciated, because in the past, I’ve felt like our group was disorganized and unprepared.

Because I only had about three hours of sleep the day before and was running a low-grade fever, I fell asleep at nine on Saturday and missed out on the bulk of the Democratic primary debates that one of my friends had on his computer. I woke up a few times to hear my friends talking about issues and really wanted to participate, but my body just shut down. I’ve been fine since then, lHamdullah… it’s just every two months or so I get a terrible case of food poisoning that keeps me up all night, and in the last two weeks, it’s happened three times.

Sunday, I had a few of my regular girls over for henna and syringe discussion again. I was impressed: when I asked them why the henna syringe is okay to use, but the syringe from the sbitar is very dangerous, they were all able to accurately articulate what I had taught them in December. I was psyched. There was no need to review it, but we had fun doing henna in any case.

Jan 31

I'm typing this at the cyber now... it's been a fantastic few days working on the incinerator project. I've been promised the 25% community contribution for the project and both my counterpart and president of the commune are on board and supportive. Now, it's just coming up with the budget, finding a specialist to build it, and getting it done (and more funding for the other two sites in my province: 3 of us are working together).

Fantastic. Will elaborate more next time, enshallah. :)


From before...
I’ve been remembering my dreams a lot recently. I’ve been typing them up sporadically over the past few months, but the last three days, I’ve remembered and been able to type up multiple dream scenes, if that makes any sense.

I never have had a recurring dream, but I have had recurring themes. The worst are the nightmares that involve tidal waves or airplane or helicopter rides and either accidents or near-accidents and, over the past two years, forgetting that I’m signed up for a biology class and failing out of school because I’ve missed too many classes/assignments (mostly this is a high school freshman biology class even though that was over ten years ago).

In the last three or four months, there have been a lot of recurring themes that are relatively new:

Shopping malls/new clothes
People popping up from high school
A video rental store popping up in Tamazitinu
Visiting home but forgetting to tell Peace Corps and getting kicked out

Other random people who have popped up in my dreams recently:

My sister (but she went back in time and was reborn as a girl named Bethany)
Robin Williams (as a sleezy, sloppy cop)
2 of my 9th grade teachers
A nurse from my old job (turned flight attendant) (M?)
Someone who was “channeling” the spirit of my college choral director
A bus named Marie
A tidal-wave causing giant
President Bush
Chris Martin from Coldplay (singing the Pirates of the Caribbean song)
People employed by Google that sail a magic Google boat that goes on water and on sand (their newest project)
CIA agents that turn into mops and assault me in an elevator
An owl-cat with Mickey Mouse markings that sings along to Disney songs

I rather enjoy this remembering dreams business, except when I wake up convinced I’ve been kicked out of the Peace Corps.


Books I’ve read since May 23, 2007:
*** - Fantastic
**- Good
* - Probably a tolerable fluff read
:( - Terrible!

The Alchemist *
Kingston by Starlight (Christopher John Farley) **
East Is East (T. Coraghessan Boyle) ***
A is for Alibi (Sue Grafton) L
The Sum of All Fears (Michael Grisham) :( :( :(
Where There Is No Doctor (David Werner) * (good as a reference, not as light reading)
Slave to Fashion (Rebecca Campbell) :(
A book that was so mediocre I forgot the title: from early 1900s, two books in one about a girl growing up :(
Daughter of Earth (Agnes Smedley) ***
A novel about a woman imprisoned in Shanghai in the Cultural Revolution **
Love Medicine (Louise Erdrich) :(
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (J.K. Rowling)***
A Thousand Splendid Suns (Khaled Hussaini?) **
Mountains Beyond Mountains ***
The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver) **
My Sister’s Keeper (Jodi Picault) **
The Glass Castle **
Running with Scissors **
This I Know Is True (or maybe I Know This Much Is True) ***
The Kiss of the Spider Woman **
Peace Pilgrim **
Eat, Pray, Love ***
The Namesake**
Dadda Atta and His 40 Grandsons (David Hart) **
Life of Pi ***
Girl With a Pearl Earring **
Rule of Four **
Specimen Days (Michael Cunningham) ***
The River King (Alice Hoffman) *
Christianity and World Religions (Adam Hamilton) :( (simplistic)
God in the Alley (Greg Paul) :( (contrived)
Tender at the Bone (Ruth Reichl) *
Resistance (Anita Shreve) *
Dreams of Trespass: Tales of a Harem Girlhood (Fatima Mernissi) *
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (Carson McCullers) **
The Space Between Us**
Dance Dance Dance (Haruki Murakami) ***
Norwegian Wood (Haruki Murakami) ***
Small Island (Andrea Levy) *
The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields) *
Long Way Gone (Ishmael Beah) ***
The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera) ***