Toubkal

Jbel Toubkal, at 4,167 meters (13,671 ft), is the highest mountain in Morocco and all of North Africa. It's located about an hour southeast of my town as the crow flies, in Toubkal National Park.

I hiked with five others-- two fellow PCVs and three guys visiting from the States. The way it works is on Day One, you hike from Imlil, the nearest town, through the mountain valleys to the "refuge", a lodge situated at the base of Toubkal, and spend the night. On Day Two, you wake up early, hike to the summit, descend, and then head all the way back to Imlil. In theory it sounds like a bit much, and the idea of actually carrying out such a plan was more that a little daunting on the punishing, five hour uphill trek to the refuge. The tops of the mountains looked pretty far away, at least to my Illinois eyes.

As we arrived at the refuge late in the afternoon, the weather changed dramatically. A fog descended the surrounding peaks into the valley, and we opted for fleeces and stocking caps instead of the t-shirts and shorts we'd been wearing all day. A hailstorm unleashed itself, and within an hour the summery green expanses were whitened and frigid.

The refuge was much fancier than I had expected; it was a bona fide "lodge", complete with a Great Room, fireplace, hot showers, many bunk bed-filled chambers, and a staffed kitchen, running on solar power. There are no roads leading to it. I would love to know how they built it in such a remote area. I picture donkeys loaded down with porcelain toilets and light fixtures, which is probably not far from the truth.

We had some dinner and relaxed amid tables of people from all over the place, as many different languages chattered around us. Despite the exhaustion, I had a difficult time sleeping that night, partially due to an unpleasant-smelling pillow.

We awoke at 4 a.m. and ate a light breakfast by flashlight as everyone else slept. After waiting until the sun showed the tiniest hint of rising, turning the sky from black to deep purple, we headed out into the chilly morning air. Not knowing the route up to the summit and without any knowledgeable guide present, our group hit a few false starts and dead ends before spotting the glow of several headlamps bobbing along single-file in the distance. We followed them, and the rising sun slowly turned the snow-streaked mountainsides orange.

It was probably a three hour hike to the top, climbing steeply over rocky areas and icy slopes, slick from the previous night's storm. A bit treacherous, as we were not equipped with and special "gear", but nothing I was ever too worried about. At one point you hit a ridge over which everything on the other side is visible-- incredibly beautiful.

The last leg is a hike up the snowy ridge to the summit, marked by a strange metal teepee. I made it up first and indulged in a celebratory can of tuna, took some photos and sat to take in the view.

:)

Small Business Development-ing

Alright, let's get to work.

*rolls up sleeves, adjusts pants*

The Regrega Potters

Approximately fifty-six potters work in my neighborhood and the surrounding douars (small villages) on the mountainside, working individually or with the help of one or two others in special areas in or near their homes. They collect soil from areas outside the neighborhood, preparing it by sifting, water addition, and kneading. The clay is "thrown" using kick wheels (think pottery wheel, but without electricity to make it spin) placed underground-- the potter sits at ground level-- using his hands as well as homemade tools. Kilns built of mud and stone are fired once a week, burning wood, sawdust, miscellaneous trash, plastic, and rubber tires in order to sustain the heat needed to bake the clay.

(sidenote: the potters are extremely camera shy, at least with me, so some of these are eh, "stock" photos)

The potters work best in warm months, as clay is difficult to handle and mold in cold weather. Warm sunlight is also necessary to dry the clay to an appropriate pre-fired state.

They create simple, minimally decorated tajines of varying sizes as well as water jugs. Each potter produces 100-300 products per week, depending on skill level and quality of raw materials and tools. Once a week a truck from Marrakech comes to buy the week's work in bulk to be sold in the city and elsewhere. Prices ranges from 2-10 Dirhams per item, depending on quality and size.

Issues

Though skillful at their craft, the potters struggle to eke out a living. Due to a limited marked, the artisans are at the mercy of the middlemen (those who come each week to buy), as they have no other outlets for sale and are obligated to accept whatever prices are offered. Their foremost concerns are for the well-being of their families, which results in an understandable reluctance to change and alter business practices that aren't working for them, risking losing the small profit they currently make.

A scarcity of available land threatens the potters' work, as they currently have to take soil from protected areas or from the property of others, both of which are problematic. The soil is apparently of a low grade, and poor quality soil produces poor quality products of a low value.

Efficient, less-polluting kilns are needed. With the number of potters working in the area all firing their kilns on the same day each week, the neighborhood is thick with smoke, much to the disapproval of residents. Much of the harsh materials burned on these occasions is absorbed by the clay which is detectable when the products are put to everyday use. Food cooked in the tajines may taste of burnt rubber, as might water held in the clay jugs.

Better business practices would be helpful, as the potters do not collaborate, do cost analyses, research alternative markets, or explore the "modifiable elements"-- what else can be done with what is currently available in terms of product design and variation. A local association of handicraft exists, and though the potters are encompassed by its breadth, they do not participate or make use of its framework (perhaps for good reason; there is a lot I have yet to understand).

Project Ideas

• Facilitate Grant Research and Writing for Improvement of Kilns: approach the Ministry of Environment and/or other agencies for funding in order to improve/update/replace the current kilns. My job would not be to do this explicitly, but to show my counterpart how to go about doing it himself for the sake of skill transfer and sustainability.

• Find Land/Locations for the Acquisition of Raw Materials: facilitate requests to the Department of Forestry for permission to use land in the area.

• Formation of Committees within the Local Association: facilitate the organization and encouragement of groups within the association responsible for business-related issues (cost analysis, market research, raw materials).

These are admittedly pretty lofty and complex projects for someone in my spot, and I don't specifically know how to move forward with them. Simple, small steps is what I'm thinking, staying open to everything. It's all extremely subject to change. In the scope of the remaining 18 months I have left, I hope to make some progress. Peace Corps operates on the goal of a six-year, three-volunteer cycle per site, so though a volunteer might not have established something tangible, some big visible acheivement, the point is to have laid a foundation of empowerment and motivation in those with whom we work.

I'm certainly not always convinced of the Peace Corps Morocco program. There are plenty of flaws, areas for improvement, and questionable effectiveness as far as Goal Number One (aka the "job") goes. However, I'd much rather work to improve it than turn into the dreaded and unfortunately all-too-common jaded and disgruntled Second Year volunteer. And as far as Goals Two and Three (cultural exchange) go, I couldn't be more excited. I think it's beneficial for everyone involved and I am quite proud and lucky to be a part of something like this in the world.

On final note, I can't believe it's halfway through June already. Seems like only yesterday I was shivering under blankets within the icy chambers of my host family's house; now I am sleeping on my roof under a mosquito net...

someone is going to hell...

...and I think it's the guy in charge of proofreading this: