Taking Stock

Arriving at site in November of 2008 was akin to a Quantum Leap-style immersion-- suddenly appearing in an entirely new context, dropped into a point in history with vague notions of some equally vague purpose that seemed impossibly distant-- that so much adjustment would have to take place simply to get my footing, let alone spearhead some kind of development work.

Or at least that's how my mind wants to remember it. A more honest examination of my memories, journal and blog entries of the past eighteen months presents a less frantic, more balanced settling in. Yes, things are new, yes I don't quite know what I'm doing, but that's alright. Let's see what happens. Life here has long since attained a sense of normalcy, as perhaps indicated by the lack of wacky situations and entertaining awkward beginnings related here. They have, with the occasional exception, been left at the beginning.

Initially my purpose was more of an assignment-- an obligation shaped by Peace Corps literature, lectures, and expectations. I was to take actions toward the fulfillment of certain goals during my time here. The assumption was that something was indeed needed-- thus PC's choice of the area and my subsequent placement here-- and that I now had the capacity to affect that change. That wasn't quite how I found it.

The steps toward understanding my environment and assembling a somewhat solid base from which to work have slowly formed in front of me. The picture as a whole has come into greater focus as I've gradually identified the pieces and players, learned the history, the complexities, the relationships, the cycles and attitudes, and have made connections between them. This has happened through the help of friends, observation, and many "mistakes", false starts, wrongful assumptions-- feeling my way along in the dark-- though the light brightens a little bit more each time I hit a wall or become completely lost, the former often resulting in the latter.

My capabilities toward doing have evolved as my understanding of the place and people has clarified. The process has been a tug-of-war between what is realistic, PC goals, and the boundaries of my own comfort zone. My approach has been to use PC goals as a reference, but much more so to simply respond to the realities of my unique environment, and to find and exercise the potential in it. What I find may or may not pertain to one of PC's small business development-specific goals, and though one can almost always stretch any activity to appear relevant to those aims, doing so is not personally a high priority.

The relationships I've had the fortune to build here, both within the volunteer community and among the Moroccan community are by far my most valued aspect of the experience, and are the core around which everything else moves. I find them immensely fulfilling, and how interesting that anything I would deem a "success" here has been due almost entirely to the development of these relationships.

It's almost impossible for anything to be hurried along here and result in any lasting prosperity. This is old news, but it remains stubbornly persistent. Perhaps this is true for any place, but this one seems to recognize and exist in accordance with the idea, rather than opposition. Initially and still occasionally frustrating, but it showed the desire to "get things done" to be a machination of the ego-- to appear successful with tangible, immediate and specific results at which to point. See, I know exactly what I'm doing. See how on top of things I am?

As there are periods of momentum and of considerable down time, the challenge is to learn how to make the best use of both-- learning when to take steps, when to wait, when to let things evolve out of your hands. To trust that they always are happening as they should, even if you can't see. Again, old news, and I hope to not belittle it through writing of it here, but time and again this theory has proven itself true to me, and has profoundly reshaped my approach to living. I hope to be able to carry the virtues found in life here back to life in America, when the time comes-- to that new, strange place.

Explore the 'Miz

Spring is well on its way here! The near-daily rain showers have the almond trees a-blooming and the wheat fields a-growing. Last March and April were quite a sight to behold; lush, vivid green grasses and wildflowers like I'd never seen, a stunningly beautiful landscape bordering on surreal. It's exciting to see it all happening again-- knowing what to expect, recognizing the feel of the changing season in the air. If you've never tried a premature almond straight off the tree, I'd highly recommend it. After cracking open the fuzzy green shell, you find a white almond-shaped thing-- an almond. Unlike the dark and crunchy ones we are used to, these are soft, crisp, and juicy. Very refreshing.

An update on the class situation: Indefinite hiatus! Due to some possibly shady dealings or relationships gone sour, the landlady of our garage-turned-classroom slapped a padlock across the door. Soon after, we were able to use a spare room in an empty house owned by the uncle of one of the students who happened to be living abroad for the time being. Classes were picking up and shaping up, in fact; the presence of a few "older" people really helped to dispel the riff-raff of those who came just to be social, and we were back to having the thoughtful discussions and eager participation of days of yore. It was not to be so, apparently, as the uncle has decided to move back, thus necessitating our evacuation. Hm. There is talk of communally renting a small venue or even better, talking someone into letting us use a place for free. Craigslist, perhaps?

And now....... it is time to officially unveil the Explore Amizmiz Project website! Remember that cultural tourism idea I mentioned awhile back? Despite a lack of much blog attention we have been working on it here, specifying ideas and gathering participants to form a somewhat cohesive structure to the whole thing. We are pretty much ready to go. It seemed that a website would be necessary for publicity purposes, so I got to work building this one from scratch. It took me about a month as I got the hang of how to assemble it tastefully and ripped off good ideas from other sites. Many thanks to my family, friends and girlfriend for the constructive criticism and design expertise! Now I'm figuring out how to best get the site seen and listed on other travel sites, so if you happen to know of anything (or notice any typos)...

http://www.wix.com/amizmiz/exploreamizmiz

1157th Place

I participated in the Marrakech Marathon January 31st, running the half-- 13.1 miles (21k) with three other PVCs and my friend and training partner from Amizmiz, Abderrahim.

It all went by in a blur for the most part. It was a beautiful morning-- sunny and cool, perfect running weather. Memorable moments include when our route diverted into an olive grove where people darted off the trek left and right behind trees to use the "facilities", and the walls of honking buses, angry taxi drivers and revving motorbikes, barely restrained by policemen as we cut through the city.

Thanks to a few previous weeks of pretty strict training and a fortuitous lack of any injuries, aches or pains on race day, it wasn't very difficult. I didn't have to stop to walk or rest, and was able to finish in the time I had roughly shot for-- 1h, 55m. (http://www.racetimer.se/sv/race/resultlist/298?rc_id=1984, http://www.racetimer.se/sv/runner/show/792956?race_id=298) It helped having the crowds of supporters (and hecklers) lining the streets, and the exhilaration of finally participating in the race I'd been imagining for weeks. The first runners finishing the full marathon were coming in just 10 minutes or so after me. I seem to be seriously lacking those Ethiopian genes.

There's another marathon in Casablanca this October. It would be nice to train for it and run the full thing, though I'm not sure what will be happening as far as work or other PC-related business. Training for that would mean not fasting for Ramadan, which I was also hoping to do this year, so....we shall see.

Running and Not-Running

Since January 8th I've been training for the Marrakech half marathon (13.1 miles) on the 31st of this month. Due to the close proximity of the race, the trick has been to increase mental and physical endurance to an adequate level within the time frame without injuring myself. So far, so good. Occasionally I am accompanied by my friend Abderrahim, heading out on the long, flat road west of town toward a neighboring village. Early in the morning, running alongside the groves of olive trees and open fields, the air is cool and clean. On the return trip we run facing the mountains as the sun peeks out from behind the long range of snowy summits.

Today was the longest I'd gone yet- eight miles round trip, and I felt like I could have turned around and done it again. Luckily the part of me that desires to maintain functioning lower limbs intervened, though before long I will be making that return trip as, bit by bit, I add the miles.

It's funny how you start to think about it: "Ok, well today I ran eight miles, so if I just double that and then add ten more, I'm already at full marathon distance!!"

I've been thinking a lot about distance. And time-- how malleable it is, how we can adapt to great quantities of it. The time required for PC service and the recent running have had me considering how such blocks of time change-- that the time or distance can always be related to a greater or smaller quantity, and thus can quickly expand or shrink in one's perception. I find myself often thinking of the twenty seven months spent here in relation to the span of an average lifetime or full scope of potential experiences, so as to reduce it into something more mentally manageable. The remaining ten and a half months can seem like such a vast stretch, though one can simply step back and perceive it as almost nothing-- a mere blink. Depends on how you look at it. Completing a time or distance seems more feasible as one successfully endures more and more of it-- those great lengths become easier to conquer as your mentality adapts, and one can continue to push the boundaries. Interesting also how perhaps the amount of personal growth and development within this PC experience is, due to the nature of the circumstances and environment, much more so than what would "normally" unfold, though I suppose that's heavily dependent upon one's attitude. Here I think back to my life before Peace Corps. I can't say that's something I'd care to return to (family, friends, and the beautiful Midwest excluded, of course!), though everything has led me to here, and for that I can't help but appreciate all of it.

Is this getting too sappy?

me, warming up at dawn

 

Alfayn u 3chra

Stephanie came out to spend Christmas and New Year's with me-- her third trip to Amizmiz, the first being when we met last December at Ami's. It was a long-anticipated visit, as I had literally been counting down the days since her departure last May.

It was a nail-biting experience for the both of us as she waited to take her plane from London into Marrakech. Due to snow and bad weather, her initial flight was canceled and it didn't look like she'd be making it in any time soon with the holiday travel rush. It seemed for a bit there that our time would be cut frustratingly short, though just an agonizing day of waiting later, she miraculously made it over.

The visit was thankfully long and leisurely; we spent time cooking at my place, taking walks up the mountain road and the mountain itself, had lunch with TeaMaster and my good buddy Abdel Ali, saw the place where they turn olives into olive oil via horse, grinding stone, and press, a Moroccan cooking lesson, and had some good conversations with my friends and classmates from the neighborhood. Christmas Day evening we spent with Donniell, by the light of my humble fake tree adorned with dental floss strung popcorn, feasting on a holiday meal or our own creation, as well as three (three!) desserts prepared by my sitemate extraordinaire.

Several days after Christmas we left town for Taghazout, a small coastal town I had heard about from several other volunteers-- a supposedly quiet and beautiful place, perfect for a romantic seaside getaway in which to ring in the New Year. After a six-hour trip via bus, taxi, bus, taxi, and another bus, we rolled in to town. Some hasty negotiations for an apartment stay and an exploratory walk around later, we realized we had come to a trashy, smelly tourist trap overrun with surfers. We spent some time searching for those quiet beaches, but only found stretches with garbage literally strewn thickly across the shore. We did find a rocky area near a heavily trafficked and camel-ridden (yes) footpath on which we were able to watch a distant area of beautiful surf:

Over dinner that night at our candlelit table plagued by the subtle-but-pervasive bouquet of rotting fish, scraggly stray animals, and repeated visits by a paint-huffing local, we opted to bail out of town early the next morning in order to spend New Year's Eve at my cozy residence. The travel gods were not looking upon us favorably on the return trek, however, as every step of our journey was a headache. BUT we did make it back safe and sound, even watching the clock of my computer turn to midnight in the seconds before falling asleep. Thusly went our twenty-four hour romantic seaside getaway.

It was tough to part ways last Monday, and I've had a bit of post-visit blues, though I'm getting back into the swing of things now. There's lots to work on and keep busy with. I'm going to begin building a website for the Amizmiz cultural tourism project. Just as I had resumed attending my English class, we were informed that the landlord needed the garage we use as our classroom, and went to find a big padlock across the door bolt. Our scheduled time normally spent in class each evening has been temporarily replaced by nightly walks around the neighborhood until we acquire a new place.

Lots to look forward to (visit to San Francisco in May, anyone?); I'm excited about the project here, and everything to come this year. Onward...

AIWA Craft Fair & Mid-Service Meds

I spent the first third of this month in Rabat, initially to attend a craft fair I was co-coordinating, followed by dental and medical checkups as well as a few meetings with Peace Corps staff.

Not really too much exciting to report, I'm afraid. The craft fair was held in the gymnasium of the Rabat American School, which is a surreal little bubble of high school Americana, like someone air-lifted a campus right out of the U.S. and deposited it smack-dab in the middle of the capital of Morocco. The idea of the fair itself is that it provides artisans from across the country an opportunity to display and sell their wares as well as make contacts, take orders, etc. I took over the organizational aspects from another volunteer who ended up not being able to attend. Most of my duties ended once we had all arrived and set up; I spend the rest of the day avoiding the delicious bake sale happening in the cafeteria. Imagine a bunch of moms in Santa hats and kitschy Christmas sweaters smiling at you from behind long folding tables loaded with delicious homemade cookies and cakes and pies and so forth-- that's exactly what it was.

The next week was spent traversing between my hotel room, PC Headquarters, various medical-type offices, and spending more money on single meals than I do for a week's worth of vegetables in my site. I'm happy to report that I have no cavities or parasites! Apparently I've lost sixteen pounds since coming to country as well. As there was a lot of down time, I explored the city, revisited the ancient Chellah ruins, took several trips to the beach at night, and caught up with my stage-mates. Oh, the US Ambassador to Morocco, who lives in Rabat, invited us all over to his house for dinner one evening. Very fancy.

It was good to see everyone again-- the last scheduled meeting (as far as I know) for us as a group until our COS (Completion Of Service) interviews and medicals next year. I only have eleven months left. *jaw drops*

Sooooo-- what else? It's gotten chilly here now, to the point where I keep my long johns on pretty much 24/7 and have connected a continuous intravenous drip of hot tea to myself. I have a Christmas tree in my living room. It even has blinking lights. And tomorrow I'm going to the Marrakech airport to pick up a visitor I've been waiting for for what seems like a looooong time...

Thanksgiving & l3id lKbir Round Two

Before getting to the gore, I'd like to briefly recount this past Thursday's Thanksgiving extravaganza, hosted and attended by myself and my fantastic sitemate.

Donniell arrived in the early afternoon, dead-but-still-warm chicken in tow, and wasted no time preparing the feast. Deftly concocting a homemade stuffing, she proceeded to fill the bird's recently vacated cavity and lavished its plucked skin generously with butter and spices.

Six and a half hours later, we removed it from my humble oven, crisp and golden on the outside, juicy within. Garlic mashed potatoes came into existence, as did creamed peas and a bit of gravy. I was quite impressed.

It was all delicious, devoured voraciously yet appreciatively. Second helpings were conquered in a fashion analogous to trudging up a mountainside in knee-high snow with a weighty backpack, but lacking the sense of healthy accomplishment and vitality afterward.

Normally I would not feel compelled to persist in or even attempt such a feat, but such meals as rare-- I'd have to say that Donniell's creation was the most "home"-like of any food yet during the past fifteen months, and even the scent of the cooking itself was enough to induce warm, fuzzy, curl-up-in-front-of-the-fireplace-next-to-the-dog yearnings. And feast or not, I'm lucky to have someone around to spend the day with. Feels like I've been away from home a long time.

Next holiday:

Some of you might recall last year's depiction of l3id lKbir, perhaps Morocco's biggest holiday in terms of food, festivity, and sheep slaughter. Though I'd like to divert the focus away from the gruesome and entertaining aspects of the celebration in favor of the more wholesome and boring ones, I did witness a jaw-dropping moment during the disemboweling of the animal that I cannot resist writing about here. Upon removing the lungs from the inverted and dangling sheep's chest cavity, the friendly man spattered in blood held them up by the still-attached esophagus for all to see. He then blew forcefully into the esophageal opening, causing the lungs to inflate fully-- pink, glistening, and strange in the morning sun. It was so cool.

The afternoon consisted of a bottomless glass of sweet tea and delicious grilled skewers of fat-wrapped liver (*drool*) at a friend's house. A group of about thirty American students from an organization called Morocco Exchange was staying in town with host families for a couple of nights, and I spent most of their time here with them as they witnessed the holiday in full maroon splendor.

Yesterday evening after devouring an impressive portion of the biggest and most delicious dish of couscous I've had yet in Morocco, we found ourselves in a corner of the neighborhood, underneath an intoxicatingly-scented night blooming tree, watching a frenzy of drummers and dancers in the night as the glow from a fire reached up the walls of the surrounding houses. One of those moments of awe, wherein the experience is so visceral and surreal-- witnessing the spirit of the celebration in everyone, watching the people I've become such good friends with in their element, realizing just where I'm standing and what I'm seeing. This is a pretty amazing place to be.

This afternoon the kids are parading through the streets. I hear them chanting in droves as they taunt the harrma-- the stick-wielding man dressed in sheepskin who threatens to hit you if you don't fork up a coin or two. Unfortunately for me, I have to make my way across town to visit the host family. It's a long walk and I know they are out, there prowling the alleyways...