January 23, 2009

 I don't know what it is about this winter, but I seem to be sick a lot more than I was last year. I cannot wait for warm weather; at least the warmish weather that hits from March to May. It's strange thinking I won't really pass another one of those blazing hot summers here—it's a nice thought but a bizarre one.

 As far as work goes, there are successes and frustrations. I'm annoyed at some of the differences in work styles between the association I've started working with in my souk town: they get things done (and we're hosting two women's health days in town this weekend and next weekend, inshallah) but they maneuver within the culture in different ways, which makes me wonder how much I'll be able to get done before I COS. In addition, I've said yes to being lead trainer for a Volunteer Support Network training late next month, I have COS (Close of Service) conference in about two weeks (with a potential weekend traveling to Fez or somewhere else fun on the way back), and will have to go up to Rabat for COS medicals again in March. If I choose to do Spring Camp again, that's another week out of my site.

 Last Saturday, I went to a douar outside of my souk town to do a health session with the women there. It was potentially the most rewarding two hours I've spent in country. I met an association leader by accident when I was making photocopies for the World AIDS Day booth, and he told me I should go to his association to do a health lesson for the women there. I thought it would probably not happen, but said okay. It ends up it was something both of us wanted, and we were both very happy with the results.

 I framed the lesson about how to not get the common cold, as that's something that it seems like a third of the population here has during the winter at any given time. Something that seems basic that I've learned: if you teach things that are pertinent to the people at the time that you teach it, people are much more involved and interested. That's why the pregnancy lessons for pregnant women at the clinic always go over so much better than diarrhea lessons for the general population.

 In any case, I was proud of the lesson (it addressed how you get the cold: a virus; how to prevent virus transmission by healthy hygiene habits, and how to stay strong and healthy in order to fight off the virus in case it is transmitted, which all took about an hour and a half). It is a different tribe than that of Tamazitinu, so the language was a little different, but I still stood in front of the group and held my own.

 I had information prepared from previous lessons on everything from dental hygiene to HIV/AIDS, birth control, and home births. Even though there were 75 women crammed into a small room for an hour and a half putting up with my lessons in broken Tam, when I told them I could answer questions on any of those topics, they told me that they wanted to hear it all; I should stay as long as I wasn't tired to talk about it. I think all in all I spoke (with demonstrations and visual aids, of course, and while trying to make it as participatory as possible) for about 2 hours and 15 minutes. It was exhausting but wonderful to have an audience who cared and who were interested (though apparently the word we use for "umbilical cord" ("tabot") means something dirty in their dialect, so everyone looked shocked at first and then giggled incessantly as I tried to explain that it's important to use a new razor or something that has been sterilized to cut the umbilical cord during home births.).

 I hope this Saturday goes as well as least; I'm a bit more intimidated with the women who are coming, and the fact that I'm presenting with the association in my souk town. It's been frustrating but ultimately good working with them; the women are amazing, but they don't understand that I have to leave in May, and that I don't and cannot live in my souk town. In the culture here, it's normal to stay a few days at a time places and just stay with friends there. I can stay with the women from the association if I have to spend the night, so it makes sense that if we have to meet two days in a row, or two or three days in a week, that it wouldn't be a problem. For me, this is a problem, and I'm exhausted from waking up early, spending hours in town for a meeting with so little substance that it could be sent in a text, deciding ultimately to meet later on the next day…meaning I have to rush back home, spend the night, then wake up early to get back to town or spend the night at people's houses (which is always slightly awkward and very exhausting, entails having to go out and find an appropriate gift for the family, and feeling like I'm making them entertain me), or spend money to spend the night at the fantastic-for-the-price $6/night hotel.

 For example, the other day, I thought we were meeting about this Saturday's project as well as other potential initiatives in the future. I ended up spending two hours running errands with the president, then reading something in French that she didn't understand and sitting around as she worked on other things. I tried several times to get back to what was at hand; she said she was busy and had to go cook lunch. I set a time to meet with her later in the day; this ended up being sitting in the clinic as she had a doctor translate the French to Arabic. I left, after a 5 minute conversation that I essentially forced about Saturday and the future.

 

January 28, 2009

 

I cannot believe that my COS (Close of Service) conference is in under two weeks. I'm excited to see everyone, and the spoiled, selfish part of me is very happy that we'll be staying in the same fantastic hotel that we stayed at our first few nights in Morocco: a 5-star (by Moroccan standards, not U.S./European), fantastic place with the roof that looks out over the mosque that I blogged about in March, 2007. I'm a sentimental person who likes ceremony and poetic openings and endings, so spending our COS conference there just weeks before our replacements come into country and begin their training seems to form a nice, neat circle. I'm surprised with all the budget cuts that we can still go there, but a bit excited about it nonetheless.

 That being said, I have been able to work with "my ladies" in my souk town to do a hygiene lesson with 40 at-risk women in town.  It was pretty awesome, to tell you the truth, though my frustrations continue, which puts a damper on things sometimes. Sunday, my best friend in Tamazitinu and I recruited 35 women for me to repeat the common cold lesson to, and it went over pretty well also. I was particularly excited that we recruited so many people at the last minute, and some of them asked me for more (!), which means that, FINALLY, after being here over a year and a half, I can do good education work in my site with adult women. I'm just frustrated that it's taken until now for reasons that have to do with me as well as the community. I'm tempted to stay another year now that I have the resources, language skills, and people to work with.