The team all came together in Rabat, the capital of Morocco at the end of May and we begun our journey together. Everyone’s energy was high and excited to see how the project would pan out. Lotfi was our national networker, shooting producer and faithful driver. Kawtar, our spirited young Moroccan women who will and is making big strides for her country, served as our interviewer. Najat, a Moroccan actress tried her hand at camera production and through her connections helped make our trip an enjoyable one. Cristiana, a Romanian tour de force and social anthropologist and documentary film maker was our lead camera technician, capturing beautiful footage and personal stories. And finally, myself, a Peace Corps volunteer as assistant producer, logistic officer and photographer.

We started off on a good foot with a nice car donated to us for the trip, meetings with regional heads and a big bag of peanuts, craisins and chocolate chips (the chocolate chips were the first to go).

Traveling eastward from the sea coast of Rabat, into the Middle Atlas Mountains, down to the desert, through the gorges , back west to the beautiful fishing town of Essaouira and back up we made our trip through the heart of the country. Over twenty days and hundreds of miles we spoke with many interesting women who are working to help support themselves and their communities. We met with countless co-operatives and associations working on a variety of products ranging from jams to textiles to dried herbs and even making de-caffeinated coffee out of date pits. Women in the professional sphere included a political party president, gynecologist and hospital director, science researcher, environmental researcher, poet, school teachers and an expressive, vivid and inspiring painter who made me feel like I was in So-Ho.

With Cristiana and Najat, video cameras in hand, Kawtar uncovering these women’s stories, Lotfi on the phone making future plans for us and myself with logistics and camera in hand worked on developing our groove working together. The car rides were a good time to bond, relax and plan for the road ahead, discovering what we can work on to be a stronger team and make a better film. A few conflicts arose between the stresses of a full schedule and a long road but we did it and completed our tour with beautiful footage and compelling, powerful stories.

Currently the film is in the hands of Najat’s brother, an editor for 2M, a Moroccan public cable station. He has offered to take the editing on with his students for free and discussed even getting the footage and interviews on 2M before Ramadan in August. If we could get this on 2M it would reach a massive amount of viewers and would be good usage of the material. I hope to get the film in my hands by July so I can work on sub-titles and completing a manual guide which will accompany the film when distributed to volunteers and NGO’s.

I am so proud of all of the work that the team did and look forward to seeing the final product.

I will keep you updated.

I stumbled across this great young women and her environmental project over in northern Morocco by the Algerian border. Plastic and pollution is a problem across the world but it is highly visible in developing countries such as Morocco. Plastic bottles and purple, white and black plastic bags suffocate the beautiful landscape and adorn trees. Plastic, called mika (me-ka) is a prevailing issue and are consumed at large rates daily here. You go to buy two eggs in the morning, you have a mika, each vegetable and fruit item has its own, bread another. Then they are discarded into the environment or burnt, both with negative repercussions. But alas, there is progress! This young lady Fazia Hajji at 27 years old dropped her telecommunication engineer job to work on a development project in her home town.

It is a project that combines environmentally conscious action and addressing this issue of illiteracy. Her village was referred to as “Douar Mika” or “Plastic Neighborhood” as plastic bags taking on the form of plastic birds had due to flight migration settled there. She wanted to find a way to address this issue and tried out applying the local weaving techniques with this new, non biodegradable material. What she ended up with were these great bags.

She now has 22 women working on the project which also includes literacy classes. With this project, she hopes to help the environment and provide income and education for the mothers so that they will continue to send their children to school. Many in the area are pulled out of school at 12 as the families do not have the means to financially provide for the children to go to school.

"From when I was a kid, I wanted to help people. Life gave me things and took things away from me, but not this wish to help people," she said.

In Morocco having a child out of wedlock is highly stigmatized. These are often some of the most marginalized women in Moroccan society. Many young girls are given marriage promises from male suitors and once they become pregnant the man runs away and refuses to recognize the child. The girls or women are then further rejected from her family and community as losing your virginity before marriage is one of the ultimate sins. You are now seen as being spoiled and of no community value.

Girls who become pregnant due to rape are also a cause of concern. Societies do not protect women easily in these situations. First if a women is raped and wishes to condemn the aggressor she needs 4 male Muslim witnesses to attest to the assault. Also the man who rapes the girl can escape persecution by agreeing to marry his victim, even if it is against her will. So why would any women want to report such abuses if she would have to end up marrying the man and publicly letting the community know she is no longer a virgin?

These young girls and women are then forced out into the streets to beg and fend for themselves and their growing fetus. Social institutions were just recently put into place in some urban areas but are still not fully utilized. There is also a lack of hospital centers and unwed mothers are not aware that they have access to these centers as their children are preserved by the community as illegitimate. There have also been reports of nurses refusing to care for unwed mothers and calling them prostitutes and are often left unattended or rejected completely by clinics and hospitals. Children born out of wedlock are also labeled ‘X’ on their birth certificates and the single status of the women is highlighted on her hospital file.

In the worse cases, the mothers abandon their children upon birth or perform infanticide to keep grace in their household. Women who decide to keep children often fall into the deadly profession of prostitution, it is one of the only communities that accept them and take them in. Here their health and dignity are further jeopardized. For example I have a friend who had a child and the father is not in the picture. She now works as a prostitute in the local coffee shops to help provide for her and her child. They are also shunned from my village and very rarely are seen outside. When I first got to my village people told me to stay away from her as she was spoiled and a bad influence but I realized this is not so. The child also has a cleft pallet and needs money for the surgery. Her mother fortunately still helps to care for the child and I cannot imagine if that support was not there.

This is even more upsetting for me as I was raised without a father for the first 7 years of my life and my mother had the support of her family and community that she needed to raise me. She was able to have access to a decent job, schools and daycare programs accepted me despite my status and my family gave me more than enough love and support to help me grow into a healthy, educated, happy human being. I never remember having to think of myself as a child born without a father until much later in life but not in a way that upset my social inclusion. It was not only the support of my mother and grandmother that helped me get to where I am but also my grandfather and uncle. If my mother had me here, we might have never made it. I might have ended up abandoned on the front steps of the police station or grew up in the environment of street life and prostitution.

It rattles my brain and breaks my heart that these children and mothers should not be given the support and opportunity that I have so fortunately experienced. There are barely any organizations to help these women and media and the government does not dare touch the taboo subject. The silence needs to be broken.

I am including this news article because I know of this institution and have frequently run into the volunteers who come to help. It is tramatic as these children, now have no where to go. There are very poor institutions for desolate, abandoned children in this country and now if not placed in a proper institution they will face illiteracy and devastation poverty. These children also grew up learning English and will be expelled into a world which is unfamiliar.

Morocco: Orphanage shut down and Missionaries Expelled.

Tuesday, March 09 2010

Washington / Morocco Board News Service / An orphanage called Village of Hope in The mid Atlas Region of Ain Leuh in Morocco, that was being run by 20 expatriates, has been ordered closed by government authorities. they were told that they must leave the country within three days.

A statement from the Moroccan Interior ministry noted that the individuals expelled "exploited some families' poverty and targeted their minor children …. they carried out proselytizing activities aimed at childre nunder the age of 10, adding that the investigation resulted in the seizure of materials used in proselytizing".

The Voice of Hope orphanage has been operating for 10 years, taking abandoned children. Thirty three children lived there, some since its founding in 2000.

The closure came without warning. "We have always been open about our faith to the authorities," said Chris Broadbent, Human Resources Manager for the orphanage. "Watching the children be told by their [foster] parents that they had to leave, that they would maybe never see them again, is the most painful thing I have ever witnessed... This is a shame and a disgrace …" Broadbent says they are in shock as the centre has been operating for 10 years without any issues. He says they are not missionaries, they are just parents who were looking after a group of children. They now holds fears for the orphans they have been forced to leave behind.

This is the latest in recent similar actions by the Moroccan government. On February 4th, authorities raided a Christian meeting in Amzmiz near Marrakech, arresting 18 and deporting a foreign missionary. Since then five other foreign Christian missionaries have been expelled.

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US Distressed by Morocco Expulsions . Friday, March 12 2010

The U.S. ambassador to Morocco, Mr. Samuel Kaplan, has expressed "our distress" about the way [the recently expelled Americans] were sent away. He said the Moroccan government refused a hearing for those expelled — and that "violates fundamental rules of due process." 
U.S. Ambassador in a message Thursday to Americans residing in Morocco said the U.S. doesn't take issue with Moroccan law.

The recent expulsion of foreign nationals has overshadowed U.S. praise on Friday for Morocco's recent steps to improve human rights, women's rights and democracy.

A charitable group called the Village of Hope, a home for orphaned and unwanted children in northern Morocco, said Thursday that 16 of its workers were ordered on Monday to leave the country.

In a statement, Village of Hope described the eviction process as “the most painful situation imaginable,” saying parents had been given just a few hours to pack their belongings.

“The Moroccan authorities gathered the children together in the school and told them what was happening in the absence of the parents. After that, parents had to further explain to the devastated children what was about to happen. Some of the children have been with their parents for 10 years and the trauma caused was beyond description.”

The group said the authorities had produced no evidence to support the proselytizing allegations, and offered no way of appealing the decision.

“VOH has always sought to abide by Moroccan law and recognizes the right of the authorities to enforce this law,”

“This is not an issue of Islam vs. Christianity, this is an issue of families torn apart, bewildered and devastated children and heartbroken parents,” the statement said.

“We openly and unashamedly appeal directly to the King [Mohammed VI], as a father himself, to act with mercy and help us reach a point of compromise and reunite the 33 children with the only parents they know.”

Two American women — Emmagene Coates and Ellen Doran —founded the orphanage near Ain Leuh fifty years ago. Coates died in 1995 and Doran in 2007.

On Thursday the Moroccan government hosted a meeting of religious leaders – Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox and Jewish – who all then issued statements objecting to proselytizing, the act of seeking coverts from other faiths.

“Representatives of monotheistic religions in Morocco on Thursday reiterated that the kingdom is a land of tolerance, peace and religious freedom and rejected all forms of proselytism,” the official MAP news agency reported

Christian groups are allowed to do charitable work in Morocco so long as they don’t try converting Muslims. However, foreign Christians have been quietly spreading their faith in Morocco for years, says Jean-Luc Blanc, head of the Casablanca-based Evangelical Church of Morocco.

But in his nine years here, Blanc says he hasn’t seen a mass expulsion like this. “This is a change in policy from the top of the government,” says Jack Wald, who has spent 10 years as pastor of Rabat International Church, a protestant congregation in the capital. “It’s like going to sleep, waking up, and all of the sudden you’re in a different country.”

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3:30 am restless unable to sleep. Tossing and turning my sides aching from the all too forgiving foam cusion. Moon emanating a blue across the night sky in through my window which is open to run the chill out of the concrete tiled room; the glass door opens and shuts in a calming erythematic tempo. I feel as if I am by the ocean with the waves crashing on me on a front porch swing on a summer night but no, it is to cold here now.

But the sound of water is true and not an illusion I am still awake not yet dreaming.

The river, mere paces away from my window, it is roaring, light rapids.

I am alive and it is alive and could destroy my home one day if the waters rise as they are.

But I will be gone for where I am is temporary but oh the families that will stay here how close my neighbors are to the over flowing gates of water, tides washed down from melting glaciers somewhere in the far distance.

But now I am safe and awake and outside all I hear is the waters,

calming soothing not even a breeze through the trees.

I look out the window.

Fog is rising off the ground and glowing in the blue mask of the moon.

A small shrine where the founder of this village lays, dead, asleep, still loved and honored. Right there outside my window he lays entombed.

Still 3:30 and no sleep, restless.

I closed my eyes and opened again as three men cloaked in white seem to float by my window with the light banging of a drum, white turbans, people unrecognizable to me.

One stops for a moment still within my view.

I feel no threat. He pisses or something of that gesture. Why it is night, who would be awake to see?

As a Peace Corps volunteer, now living in Morocco for over a year, I have had the opportunity to get to know and work closely with community members. Also serving as a Peace Corps representative for the Gender and Development Committee I have become fully enveloped in working with girls and women in Morocco who are struggling and want to make a difference. I have now paired up with a Morocco non-governmental organization called the Moroccan Women Network Initiative and we are working to help improve the lives of young girls and women across the country. I am writing to you because your help is needed to improve the condition of women like my friend Zenib.

Zenib is 17 and like many girls in rural areas, her family depends heavily on her unpaid and often invisible contributions to her family and community. She undertakes much of the domestic labor needed for poor families to survive. She is the water carrier, the wood gatherer, the harvester, caretaker of the livestock and of the old, sick and young. Her family does not think she is a source of income and thus does not invest in her health or education. Zenib is not aware of the opportunities around her yet wishes to make a change in her life but does not know where to start and fears no one is there to support her. She is of marrying age and soon she will be married off to someone of her family’s choosing and will be expected to bear and prepare children for the next generation. Due to poverty and her lack of education Zenib like many other girls might be compelled in the future to seek employment. She will most likely end up in a low skilled job with minimal pay, long hours and unequal power relations that often lead to exploitation. To prevent her future daughters from entering into this cycle it is important to have her physically and intellectually prepared so as not to pass on her illiteracy and poor health to her next generation.

The good news is that within the past decade, Moroccan society has passed important legal reforms transforming women’s lives like the new family law that was enacted in 2004 by King Mohammad VI which provides a legal framework for girls across Morocco, like Zenib to create a better future for themselves. The minimum age of marriage was raised from 15 to 18, the family is now the joint responsibility of both spouses as opposed to just the mans, the wife's duty of obedience to her husband was rescinded, there is an expanded access to divorce for women, and the practice of polygamy was placed under strict judicial control. Now women in Morocco have more of an opportunity to become politicians, intellectuals, activists, police women, and spiritual advisors. Yet, despite the major legal reforms, gender disparities are still prevalent and many are facing resistance due to lack of awareness about the new laws and accomplishments of women that are related to existing poverty and fear of the changes that are occurring throughout the country.

To address these issues, the Moroccan Women Network Initiative and I are working to bring together the collective wisdom and creativity of women in Morocco who are leading change and spreading their message across the country into hard to reach places. This network will be composed of men and women committed to achieving gender equality, sustainable development and women’s human rights. This organization will reach out internationally including input and support from various groups. The internet will be utilized as an electronic forum for information sharing, capacity building, networking and strategizing. The network will all come together in an annual forum with the first projected date being the spring of 2011.

With your financial support we will harbor visual media to profile and spotlight Moroccan women community leaders through a series of films which will document the stories of women and girls who through education and perseverance have managed to break the shackles of socio-economic and gender constraints to make a positive improvement in their communities and lives. These women have become role models for girls in Morocco but their stories are yet untold. We will change that and help spread these women’s voices.

These films will work on a variety of levels. They will be used as a tool to motivate parents to ensure their daughters continue schooling, generate demand in the community for equal opportunity and to inspire girls to make a positive impact in their community and for themselves. The films impact will be increased with an action guide that will list available resources for women’s equality and rights as well as activities and workshops focused on gender development and leadership. It will be designed to support the development of women’s skills and help them become participants in issues that concern them by offering engaging and dynamic activities to motivate and enable women to believe in their abilities to catalyze change and motivate others to do the same. A brief history and transition of the situation of women in Morocco will be included, listings of internship and mentoring programs, film discussion questions as well as geographically and topically categorized information of organizations, institutions and individuals who can help.

The films and action guide will be facilitated by Peace Corps volunteers in their rural communities and through the Moroccan Women’s Network Initiative at a grass roots level to help viewers of the film through innovative and effective ways to start taking action right now to tackle the challenges they face. With the Moroccan Women’s Network underway, and our team and itinerary set for the film, we need your help financing our travel and post production costs and we need these funds by April 2010 in order to carry out our project on time. During the month of April the Moroccan Women’s Network Initiative will be traveling the country conducting our interviews. We are contributing as a community $3,600, roughly 44% of our whole project cost and need help with raising the remaining $4,600. This film project and resource guide are monumental in spreading awareness and encouragement to hard to reach places and your donation of $20 or $200 can help make a huge difference in the lives of girls like Zenib. Investing in young women leadership is essential to social change now and for the future.

We need these funds by April 2010 in order to carry out our project on time. Please act now by visiting the Peace Corps Partnership website where you can make a tax-deductable contribution.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=378-120

Also visit the Moroccan Women’s Network Initiative website for more information about our project or please contact me for further information.

http://initiativesdesfemmes.webs.com/

“A small group of thoughtful people can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has.” – Margaret Mead

The beauty that takes my breath away, the fresh air that fills it up again and my feet to take me farther into its depths.

Like everything I struggled at first but soon I found my bearings. Running has taken over my body and mind like a drug. I crave the high. I habitually think about running, from the moment I wake and again an hour after I complete my run. I could have gone farther; maybe I can go again today? Where will I run to tomorrow?

It is a healthy asphyxiation driven by the pure desire to get the endorphins flowing through my body, pulling the corners of my mouth upwards into a smile, my heart lighter and my eyes refreshed with the view of the fresh green fields before me. I want to keep my body moving, to breathe in the fresh country air and feel the sweat pouring down my heated chest.

I only wish I knew the joys of running before this, if I could have stuck out the initial pain at first. But could have should have, I am thankful that I did.

While running, particularly a girl running is not common in these parts men and women occasionally cheer me on. Sometimes I get a confused look by passersby who appear to ask themselves, ‘Is someone after her? Does she need help?’ The only dangers I face are the sheppard’s dogs who upon seeing me bark and unleashed make advances towards me. If I had not been munched on before from the ancestor of a wolf, I might not be so fearful.

Everywhere I go is up hill yet the reverse never seems to be a downward slope. The landscape is ever-changing. Thanks to the high frequency of precipatation this winter the fields are now gleaming in the most vibrant green I have ever seen in nature. The fertility of earth is in contrast to the red harsh rocky soil.

Thank you Kerrie, Alexis and Alicia for encouraging me and introducing me to this endorphin rich routine, thank you earth for your beauty and resiliency.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ld2hfLAvqkA

Excerpt provided by the United Nations website:

Why dedicate a day exclusively to the celebration of the world's women?

The United Nations General Assembly, composed of delegates from every Member State, celebrates International Women's Day to recognize that peace and social progress require the active participation and equality of women, and to acknowledge the contribution of women to international peace and security.

For the women of the world, the Day is an occasion to review how far they have come in their struggle for equality, peace and development.

You might think that women's equality benefits mostly women, but every one-percentile growth in female secondary schooling results in a 0.3 percent growth in the economy. Yet girls are often kept from receiving education in the poorest countries that would best benefit from the economic growth.

Until the men and women work together to secure the rights and full potential of women, lasting solutions to the world's most serious social, economic and political problems are unlikely to be found.

In recent decades, much progress has been made. On a worldwide level, women's access to education and proper health care has increased; their participation in the paid labor force has grown; and legislation that promises equal opportunities for women and respect for their human rights has been adopted in many countries. The world now has an ever- growing number of women participating in society as policy-makers.

However, nowhere in the world can women claim to have all the same rights and opportunities as men.

The majority of the world's 1.3 billion absolute poor are women.

On average, women receive between 30 and 40 per cent less pay than men earn for the same work.

And everywhere, women continue to be victims of violence, with rape and domestic violence listed as significant causes of disability and death among women of reproductive age worldwide.

So my project is moving along!

Not only am I working on a film, but the group of Moroccans that I am working with want to make sure everything is sustainable, which of course I agree with 100%. So, the group and I are taking it one step further and forming an NGO that will work as a networking tool to help connect women from across the country and also with international opportunities and resources. Check out our NGO website and please stay posted.

http://initiativesdesfemmes.web.com

http://vodpod.com/watch/457121-womens-rights-morocco

(2 minutes)

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2009/07/03/mathur.morroco.women.cnn?iref=allsearch

(4 minutes)

I recommend watching them in this order.

I am ecstatic and more filled with motivation than I can contain in my 5'5'' frame.

Today I had a very successful meeting with the director, technician, interviewer and a staff member from Al Akhawayn to discuss our massive undertakings.

Following our meeting I watched a film called Crossing Borders produced by Morocco Exchange and assistant produced by Lotfi. It truly inspired me and reminded me of what I am doing and why.

To see a trailer visit:

www.crossingbordersfilm.org

We can change and improve the human condition with pure compassion and resilience.

Today discussing our film we rolled out the structure of our project which I will dispense to you now.

We are creating a non-governmental organization (NGO), with the working title Women and a Movement. This organization will be run and implemented by Moroccans. It will be a massive network of individuals and organizations all working towards improving the condition and livelihood of Moroccan women and families. The organization will be arranged into network categories of people we know, will meet during our interviews and afterwards. These categories will include in the broadest sense education, health, enterprise, spirituality, leadership and environment. This will not only be a collaboration of Moroccan partners but we are also looking to reach out and eventually expand internationally with the hopeful collaboration of groups such as Women for Democracy and Friendship Force International.

We are working on having a forum every year for all participants to collaborate together in one space every Spring (god willing).

Our first venture into this project will be a film.

During the spring our team will be traveling throughout Morocco for an intensive 20 days of interviewing and networking. We will be collecting profiles and stories of successful Moroccan women and the communities that support them. This film will be shown to students, rural communities and all who are interested to help spread the message of empowerment, community participation and human potential for a growing movement towards women’s equal participation and contribution to society.

We will end the film with our first activity which will be hosting Friendship Force from Australia in my village for a day to discuss with the women health and wellbeing.

Accompanying the film will be an inclusive resource and action guide that will contain film discussion questions, leadership and gender activities, lists of organizations, individuals and institutions from across the country all working towards the same goal.

We will, I will, not let this project be anything less then what is stated above. We are a motivated, networked and passionate team of individuals and keep growing.

For ways to help support our vision please contact me and visit our blog.

womenandamovement.blogspot.com

Soon we hope to have up an interactive and illustrated website.

Swift speed and godbless

It is easy to be fooled by this young gentleman who comes up to my waist. He may appear innocent but is a wild wild young lad.

He comes to my house almost every day with his runny nose and with excitement stutters as he askes me if he can have something. He knocks on the door, I answer, he enters and starts walking around.

"Karima (my Moroccan name), can, can, can, I have your pen"

Oh yes he is cute but also get into a lot of trouble.

I will let him draw but he draws on everything but the paper.

I give him a candy and he tells all the kids in town I have candy.

I love this neighbor of mine I do in a self torturing way.

So as some of you may know I have been working on producing a film.

I started a blog to let people know details of the project.

Here you can post any questions or comments and stay updated.

Thank you all for your love and support.

www.womenandamovement.com

I just returned back to Morocco from a vacation back home in the states which I will discuss in a later post but there are more pressing matters.

As soon as I arrived back to my home I was confonted with reality and dangers of nature. My ceiling in my house has begun to leak and mold.

Aside from what now seems like a minor problem I face in my house, I am faced with something scarier outside. The river, the water, the flooding. Houses are flooding, river is overflowing, walls have been broke, rocks are tumbling under rushes of rapids funneling through our valley. Water is thundering ouside of my house, haunting yet soothing in its grandocity.

We have been experiencing severe rains and the snow that accumulated has now melted and has joined the river to create a powerful force. Not only are homes in danger but so are peoples livelyhoods. Farms, with this seasons crops of carrots, potatoes and the like are destroyed. Plantations, years of hard work are washed away.

Maybe some of this could have been mitigated. Deforestation has certainly played a part as people are chopping down green trees to keep them warm in the winter and not replanting. Land is being eroded and giving way to floods, trees which would once drink the water as it came are non-existant in some places. If only people knew. I know they are doing the best with the level of awareness that they have but I must find a way to get someone here to talk to them about how there practices can help better prepare them for these situations.

I fear one day, hopefully while I am not here my house will certainly have inches of water inside. Already a leaky wall has managed to accumulate its drips into a puddle on my floor. Global warming and severe weather is real. I dont know how much more evidence we need to start making changes in our daily lives. We have an impact and that is inevitable I can tell you that.

Peoples lives are at stake.

So I thought I was clever and put out a metal trap with a cookie inside but he ate it, uncaught and no crumbs left behind! I also stuffed a blanket under the crack of the door but he pushed through it, enough so that I could see it was large, gray and fast. Upon seeing me he retreated fortunately and called for me to reinforce my barricade efforts. After that night, my first sighting and the failure with the trap I put out a few more lures and did an obsessive cleaning of my house, searching high and low for any creature or creature gates. That night I did not have any bites. I think he might have left? How, I do not know.

Maybe he's still here... lurking around, playing it quiet until I give up my paranoia. Clever creatures.

Some beautiful pictures of Morocco by a talented Moroccan photographer:

http://www.phototechnique.org/

I woke up last night with the feeling something was sniffing my hair. My room is so dark and quiet that sometimes I cannot tell if it is a dream or if I am awake. I thought maybe it was a ghost, that surprisingly comforted me but then logic slowly rolled in yet I refused to think more deeply into it. I settled on believing it was a puppy and dreamt of that for a while. Then again, something awoke me, I felt it. Something large was on my pillow by my head and what must have been its nose in my hair. I froze for a minute not knowing what to do. What if it bites?

I ran as fast as I could to the light switch and alas, I found nothing. I believe it to be a large rodent and it is taking up the same space as I am. At 4 am I found it nearly impossible to go back to sleep despite my drowsiness. I left the lights on, put on a movie, adorned my head with a thick wool cap and buried myself under my sheets.

What does one do when they find the rat I wonder? Am I supposed to kill it with my bare hands, or gently ask it if it would not mind living outside or in the barn next door. I am not sure if I can sleep soundly until I find the creature. I left a metal rat trap out with a cookie inside but I feel bad if it goes for the trick. The trap looks terrible and inhuman. And then, when I come home and it is in there, possibly still alive how do I free it from the metal jaws and where shall I put it?

Oh dear creature, I wish that you never stumbled into this house for we cannot be together but I must stay.

From the summer until this winter I have witnessed development and change from my own window. Some change good, some not so good. I used to have a view of the brook from my living room window but now I have the view of a tall, white obstructive wall. I am not the only one saddened by this addition but so is most of my village. It was an initiative I hear came from the Common Rural who is in charge of the area. People are upset about not only the aesthetics of the wall but also how it inhibits access to the running water that we occasionally need when the water is turned off for days at a time. The brook is used for washing dishes, clothes and collecting water for cleaning purposes. The wall follows the brook throughout the entirety of the village. It is double the high it was originally so that one standing next to it could not peak over the edge. The Common Rural then decided to paint it white, taking away from the natural look of our environment.

Almost every day for the two months work was being done on the wall there were arguments from the village folk who were protesting the wall. To add to the problem the men who had to camp out in front of the wall, in front of my house, appeared to have no respect for the land. They littered all over the place, and desecrated in what is my front lawn. As they were out of towners they also did not know who I was and would stare into my windows if I had them open and comment to me as I entered and left my house.

Aside from my own issues with the project I am most disappointed that none of the locals appeared to have been asked about this new addition. Two young men were also jailed in Meknes for it because they vocally expressed their disgust with the construction project and lack of respect for their land and environment. The wall has taken away the beauty of the visual element of the running brook and even the pleasant sounds of the running water.

People see this as just another example of the corruption in Morocco on the local government level. Many have told me that it is a project that the Common Rural could do so they can say they spent money on a project when in fact they will pocket the majority of the money for themselves. This is not the first time I have heard of things like this happening. In fact, I have heard this story all too much from so many different communities. When people stand up to these issues they get jailed, or put on a black list of sorts. It is your word against the authorities and the people’s word doesn’t mean much of anything. So the wall stays.

It is disappointing because the money could have been used for more practical issues such as the water pipes that have burst and are creating a lake in front of my house, or to finish the children’s center which was started a year and a half ago and hasn’t been worked on since I have been here, or the transportation problem that we have. It is difficult for me to have to remove myself from this issue as we are not and should not be involved in anything political but I need to at least make people aware of this corruption and clear violation of people’s human right of freedom of expression.

My computer has been malfunctioning the past week. I even had to restart the whole thing and lost some pictures which is a little unsettling. As the loss of anything will, I have been contemplating about what this loss means to me. I am living in the mountains in Africa where people live off less than a dollar a day and I have wireless internet in my house, my Itunes playing at my whim and entertainment in the evening by watching the newest movie I received from swapping with other volunteers.

The days without my computer I felt unproductive, lonely and frustrated. But when I think about how I feel when I have it I also feel I should be out communicating face to face with people here, I feel bombarded by all of the information available at my fingertips. I think that I have become addicted to being connected and entertained by this machine. When it doesn’t work I read more, visit more people, I draw and cook more labor intensive dishes that pay off. Maybe this is a tool that I would do better without. Yet, how would I communicate with you as I am now? I think I need to set computer usage limits because I fear it may become my escape vehicle, inhibiting me from engaging more physically with my immediate environment.

There are many forms of transportation in Morocco and you usually have a variety of options. Aside from the more long-standing means, such as donkey’s, camels, mules and horses, people also are moving in more modern standard forms such as taxis, private cars, vans, pick-up trucks, bicycles, mo-peds, trains, airplanes and for the backpacking hiker or the Sheppard, by foot.

The vast majority of my transportation experiences have been in taxis and each experience is unique. I pick up taxis out of my hamlet to get into the larger town nearby. I frequently find myself waiting anywhere from 5 -30 minutes for transport. If I am lucky I might just be that last person to fill in the taxi. In general, taxis will not take off unless all seats of the car are filled to maximize efficiency and cost. A 5 mile ride into the larger town costs me 4 dh (.52). Almost all grand taxis in Morocco are old German Mercedes. It is a living testament to German car manufacturing until you look closer and notice that the only part of the car that still seems to be from the original is the body. Seats, steering wheel, mirrors, dashboards, and the like seem to be a smorgasbord of objects found here and there or older things re-acclimated for new purposes. I have seen plastic dish drainers used as replacements for the air filters in the car, bumper stickers on the front window at an attempt to hold together cracked glass and plastic vinyl or possible shower curtain as new interior for the doors. Common themes of the new vinyl interior tend to be leopard print or a vibrant arrangement of tropical fish.

Each taxi is uniquely its own on the inside. On the outside, in my larger taxi town all taxis must be a shade of split pea green. Also common to other towns is the classic white and the occasional bursts of color like burnt barn red or turquoise, however these are far and few between. Some taxis are also more reliable than others. One of my main taxi drivers out of my site has a push start car, meaning you literally get out of the car prior to take off and push it until the engine checks in. Then you hop in and drive into town. On this same car, the way back into the village the travel time can take a whie. As the ride back in is mostly downhill, the driver typically turns off his engine and coasts, slowly back in as not to waste gas. He also would not be aware of how much gas he is using as all of the instruments on his dashboard do not work such as speedometer, gas gauge and the like.

Dashboard decorations are also amusing for the passenger. You can see plastic flower arrangements surrounding the whole front window, little carpets for the dashboard, an assortment of hanging rearview mirror decorations, stickers and family pictures. I have however not seen any bobble heads which I feel would be a great addition to the collection. A whole row of bobble head dolls, each one bouncing in unison. What an entertaining distraction from the open road.

Another typical feature of taxis is the lack of window handle. If you want to roll down you window you should ask the driver for the one handle to attach onto your respective door to roll it down. However, it is important to know that most Moroccans do not generally like to have the windows down in the taxi; this is something you should be conscious of. I find myself however, in the heat of the summer in a packed taxi, with intermittent car sickness to request permission to roll down the windows. This brings me to the next point, the number of passengers per car. As I said earlier taxis generally will not take off unless they are filled to maximum capacity. If you are in a rush you can opt to buy another seat but this can get expensive. An added benefit however is that you can get the front seat to yourself and roll down the window. A typically taxi, at normal capacity will have the driver and two passengers in the front seat. In the back, four people are expected to fit. This does not take into account the size or girth of fellow passengers. It is to be known that on occasion a butt cheek, leg or foot will fall asleep. On shorter trips you should also not be surprised that the driver out of goodness of his heart will let more get into the taxi. An extra passenger can be found to squeeze in on the left side of the driver or if there is a child in the back he or she will be placed on a lap to make more room.

Infant transport is also a concern of mine. As are the lack of seatbelts and road mannerisms. For one, young children are generally tied up onto the mothers back and the mother rides in the taxi with the child still attached to her in this manner. Seatbelts are a joke, your luck if you find one but even if you do, taxis at their passenger quota does not comply with the seatbelt arrangement in the car. Road manners are typically inexistent. Your car will most likely not follow a speed limit. If there is a car in front of yours, expect that your taxi will try to pass it even if he sees there is traffic in the oncoming lane. Occasionally passengers in the taxi will let the driver know if they agree it’s a good time to pass or not. Near death experiences are a possibility however drivers have seen to turn it into an art form.

Driver and passenger relationships are also dynamic. As some people take the same taxi frequently they get to really know their driver and become close friends. There is typically a lot of conversation in rides between strangers as well. Conversations, from what I have been able to grasp due to my language have revolved around the messages of God, town dramas or the price of vegetables at the market.

Music is also a stimulus during your journey. The driver generally has control and will put in his cassette tapes or a CD, whichever deck he has personally inserted into his car. Music choices in my area generally consist of listening to the Koran, Berber high pitched music that I cannot decipher, or select Arabic singers. I often do not hear a variety. I have become accustom to the few songs that I hear. If a driver has the music off, a passenger, typically a young male, will fill in the silent void with his high-tech musical cell phone. These songs are generally more modern and Western. You are likely to hear rappers like 50 cents, Tupac, or club music. If they only knew what the words translated into I wonder if they would still be allowed to play those songs in this country. Either way, I prefer the silence and a front seat to myself with the windows down.

I realize that some of my recent blogs have sounded like they are coming from a dark place, or that my experience here is all struggles. This is not so and I feel I must apologize to my readers. I have many great and wonderful things occur day to do. It just so happens that when I feel I should sit down to write it is typically when I need to do it for therapeutic reasons. My schedule and life here is very busy which is great but I realize that I want to also share that with you, my reader, more of the good, exciting stories. So following this post, that is what will be coming. In between studying for my GRE’s and working on my projects here I will be writing and filling you in on what has happened, my observations, and a few other tidbits I hope you find interesting. So stay tuned, more is to come.

Topics:

Moroccan weddings

Taxis

Summer Camp

Artisan update

Film project

Places I have been

Trip back home

Insects in and around my home

and more…..

The feeling of people always wanting some material good from you and having that run out and then possessing nothing to provide but what’s inside. The exhaustion of want, not need.

Want

A variety of things I have been asked for by children and parents: socks, pens, crayons, markers, money, the exchange of foreign bills such as euro and yen, yogurt, a sharp kitchen knife, old things that I don’t want, jewelry, animal masks, bracelets, my sandals to wear in the city, toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, American cookies and chocolate, yarn, a bicycle pump, a glass of water, sunglasses, to use my toilet.

I am telling you all of this not because I want you to send me anything but because I need to express how taxed I feel having these things. People come to my door, say the polite hello and then ask me for things. Once I say I don’t have it or it’s all gone the conversation is done and they go their way. I feel used; there is always a catch, someone always wanting a material object from me, and not actually any part of me or who I am. It is a lonely feeling; like I am an old forgotten candy dispenser in a VCR rental shop that if you shake enough maybe something will fall out. But most of the times my candy stash is all out.

As a volunteer I am living as a local. I am sure that I probably have more money at the end of the month then a typical family but I am also living alone, getting charged double for things as a foreigner, not buying a satellite, fancy cell phones or washers. I am not the American I believe many expect me to be. I am not the girl on Orange County, or any MTV program for that matter, nor am I a femme fatale from one of the many American action movies played on TV. I am a young American girl, giving two year of her life to volunteer and live in another country with a stagnant pile of student loans anticipating her arrival at home. I have no home besides that of my parents, I sold my car to pay my bills, currently no money in the bank, not making any for my time here and returning home to an economic crisis some say could be the next great depression, amidst the potential crumbling of our nation to other world leaders such as China.

The extent of this would be difficult to describe to people in my village. I can’t imagine the look on their face when I told them exactly how much in school loans I owe when exchanged into the local currency. But still, I do have opportunity and freedom, plinths of the American dream.

I had a bag of 10 little school kits for the kids; ruler, pencil, sharpener, eraser. I gave them out to the first kids who came to my door asking me for things. (In the thesaurus, things is synonymous with obsession, fixation, mania, craze, entity, phenomenon, gadget) They were gone in two days just as the secret was let out in the classroom. This causes stress as I want but can’t provide for all of the children. Desperation. As soon as one knows something went through my front door the entire village knows and I have children and or parents ardently banging on my metal door at intervals of 5 minutes, calling my name and beating until I come to answer. Children who already had received something even come around a second time, bringing either younger siblings, friends , parents or cousins to see if I can give them one more of whatever it is they are asking for. Then later they come back asking if I have something else to dispense; as if I had just received a new shipment of goods through some secret portal to whole sale America that I have hidden in my house.

In retrospect I know that I do technically have a larger accumulation of material goods but I don’t like to relate to those things. This is not the kind of aid that I am looking to provide to people. I am not here to give them more plastic junk to pollute their ecological and cultural systems. I don’t want to be seen as a free garage sale or aid delivery truck. I want to be seen as a person, one with valuable skills, ideas, warmth. I know most of the time it is just kids asking me for things and they don’t know better but it is exhausting and I am left not knowing what to do. The thing that I fear is that I am now hesitant to have anything to give. If I do, within minutes the throbbing sound of fists on my door will begin, and will not stop until repeatedly telling people that I am sorry, I have nothing to give you, it is all gone.

I have nothing to give you.

I wanted to share some words of wisdom from my old yoga studio in Franklin. Thank you Kaye for your words of inspiration.

* Glued to the news? Ripping open your retirement statements in a panic? Blaming a spouse for a bad investment? Are you taking your worries out on anyone (this includes yourself)?

Okay, maybe we all need to stomp our feet a few times and scream "It's not fair!" Then what?Are we going to let this economic tremor ruin our entire lives? NO! The way around all of this, is to go through it with grace and a smile. Not a PollyAnna smile, a Mona Lisa smile. The smile of someone who knows a thing or two. We know what is going on but choose to enjoy our day anyway. Choose to enjoy the stunning folliage - go ahead- look out your window. Choose to enjoy a delicious slice of apple pie or just an apple picked in-season. Enjoy your children, your partners, your pets. Enjoy this bit of beautiful sunshine.

Find the blessings in changes. Make cookies with your kids instead of buying them. I have found out recently that many healthier foods are actually cheaper. If you are keeping your thermostat down a few degrees take the opportunity to snuggle with someone you love. Do not let the market or the fear of others shrink who you are. You are an incredible human being with untapped resources. Find the wellspring of new thought, new inspiration and new

life which flows deep within you. Choosing to be optimistic at a time like this is the quickest way to feeling back in control of your own life. Not only that, realistic optimism leads to grounded solutions.

Can't wait to see those Mona Lisa smiles...

* Floods, Banking Crisis, Oil Prices. Oh my.... We certainly aren't in Kansas any more. Fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. The analogy of the yellow brick road in the movie Wizard of Oz is perfectly applicable during times such as these. Like the Lion we could all benefit from shifting our focus from fear to courage; like the Scarecrow we all need to trust that we have the mind to take us through this adventure; and, it our hearts which will lead us to a better feeling solution. If we allow our hearts to freeze up with fear and doubt, anxiety will motivate our choices and we will only be chasing our tails.

Anxiety is often the result of amped up energy. The good news is, this energy is harnessable. You do not need to tread water waiting for waves to crash into you time and time again. Instead grab your boogie board or surf board and ride those waves. The idea is to get on top of the energy and use it to make those leaps of faith you've been desiring. 'How can I do that?' The answer is to simply allow the anxiety to flow through your body. Close your eyes and bring your attention to your spine at the place where you feel the anxiety. Now visualize opening your spine and letting the energy out. Relax, breathe and let it flow.

Utilize this energy to facilitate change in any area of your life, relationships, career...

A French Muslim woman: Sarkozy will you wear this burka?

Nicolas Sarkozy: No.

Woman: Why not?

Sarkozy: Because I don’t agree with it.

Woman: Okay. I hope you find god.

Sarkozy: Women remove that burka?

Woman: No.

Sarkozy: Why not?

Woman: Because I personally see it as my religious commitment and wear it as a display of my modesty and devotion to my god. I want to inhibit material distractions and the gaze of strange men to focus more on the spiritual aspects of my life.

Sarkozy: Well you need to remove it or get the h*ll out of my country.

French President Nicolas Sarkozy gave a speech to the French Parliament last Monday that there is no place for the burqa in France. The burqa is a Muslim head dress that is worn by some Muslim women. It is common mostly worn by the conservative populations of Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia. It is assumed by some in the west that the burqa is forced upon women but this is not so for the vast majority of Muslim women who wear the burqa by choice. However, Sarkozy and his French policy makers are working towards a full scale burqa ban. He is quoted as saying:

"We cannot accept to have in our country women who are prisoners behind netting, cut off from all social life, deprived of identity," Mr Sarkozy told a special session of parliament in Versailles. "That is not the idea that the French republic has of women's dignity.

"The burka is not a sign of religion, it is a sign of subservience. It will not be welcome on the territory of the French republic," the French president said.

What Sarkozy fails to see is, well everything. I am sure that his statement did not take into consideration the Muslim population of France which is the largest in Western Europe, estimated at 5 billion. The burka is a sign of religion as much as the veil the catholic nun wears. He will not allow the Muslim women’s dress but he condones young pubescent catholic school girl uniforms with short plaid skirts and black knee highs. Would he ask our conservative and modest daughters and sisters to unbutton their blouses and let their hair down if it made them uncomfortable? What are our values?

The veil is a choice, a part of identity and culture for a majority of Muslim women. Following the Islamic clothing guidelines reaches into the deeper desire for one’s own cultural heritage. Girls wear the veil because it is what their mothers do, and their grandmothers and great grandmothers just as I like to wear fancy scarves like my mom does. I don’t wear scarves just because I think they look good but because it is something that I identify my mum with, something she collects. I think they look beautiful on her and as most young girls I want to be like my mum. Since I was in high school or maybe younger I started looking through my mum’s scarf drawer and thinking of how I could pull them off. This also goes for girls who like to wear their mum’s heels or lipstick. It is part of our identity and connects us to our culture and family.

Veils are a fashion still prevalent in western culture. Nuns still cover their heads and bodies. Shall we ask the Vatican to unveil their female statues and images which they once cloaked out of protection for the sake of female sexuality?

When we are married in Christian communities do we not veil ourselves? It is an ancient ritual symbolizing a man taking over his wife and her giving up our virginity to our husband. It stood as a symbol for his future wife’s purity.

All traditional images of Mother Mary show her veiled.

In the 1960’s it was common for women to wear hats to church that had a sweeping piece of cloth to cover ones face, who knows maybe it will come back into fashion one day again? Let’s think of some fashions we have that might offend people like excessively tight and revealing clothing, facial tattoos, piercings, dreadlocks, leather, shoulder pads and out of style prints.

This statement by Sarkozy only marginalizes the France Muslim population and Muslim community as a whole. The women who want to wear the head covering will just not leave her home for fear of backlash from the public. They are forcing her to take the veil off in opposition to the stereotype that men are forcing her to put it on. Where are the civil liberties and tolerance? We are trying to ease tensions with the Muslim world not increase them. I am ashamed. I also fear for Morocco as it is a completely Muslim country which was colonized and still is run by the French. What will happen to them and their relationship with France?

The West wants people to give up who they are to be like them because it is easier for them then trying to except people for who they are, as if it would be no problem for them to give up their cultural identity, religious and individual freedoms. When they rebel towards this colonization of western infliction we call them tyrants and uncivilized. What a war of words, what a war of intolerance and misunderstanding. What about choice and religious freedom? Are those not our western values, is that not what we are trying to encourage?

I have to mention this because I am so proud of the work my mom and her friends have been doing. She has joined up with her two friends and has formed a new organization. The new non-profit corporation is called Project Tanzania Partnership Inc. They just recently received their non-profit status and are looking at getting projects off the ground.

Here is their mission statement:

The mission and purpose of Project Tanzania Partnership is guided by a desire to engage others through outreach, investment and partnership to meet critically important needs of the citizens of the United Republic of Tanzania (Tanzania) in Africa.

You will meet our Partners with shared values centering on building capacity at the village level in Tanzania within education, health care and economic development. Impact will be maximized by strong collaboration and confidence with organizations and groups “on the ground” in Tanzania; strategic partners who we will help to raise funds, improve their skills and further develop their program and services.

Take a look at their website and let’s send them our love and support:

www.projecttanzaniapartnership.org

*Lightening warns not the tree it will strike.

*When it condems us, reason is wrong for it displeases us.

*Water has not yet flowed and already you raise the hem of your garment.

Ramadan will occur towards the end of August this year. Ramadan has not fallen in the middle of the summer since the 70’s. You may be wondering how this is possible. Well firstly Islam follows a different calendar which goes with the cycles of the moon. The lunar year is shorter than the solar year which we follow, therefore falling on a different time every year, drifting from season to season. Ramadan goes through all four season in a cycle of 32.5 years. Due to this seasonal sift of the holiday, Ramadan can take place during months of quaking cold or during months of liquefying heat, when the days are long and seem to go on forever. This summer, temperatures will reach up to 120 degrees in some parts of the desert. I try to imagine what it must be like to even restrain oneself from a glass of water but it happens and people do it. In order to understand this I had to take a deeper look into Ramadan.

Fasting is a month long commitment which seeks to cleanse mind, body, soul and community. It began in 662 AD after the Prophet Mohammad migrated from Mecca to Medina. “Ramadan is the month during which the revelations of the Qur’an began. The Prophet Muhammad was meditating in the Cave of Hira, near Mecca, when he “received” the first verse of the Qur’an. “Read in the name of Your Lord who created. He created men from a clinging form. Read, your Lord is the Most Bountiful One who taught by the pen, who taught man what he did not know.” So Ramadan marks the beginning of Islam. The word Qur’an literally means reading or recitation. And during Ramadan the whole Qur’an is read from cover to cover. This happens during extra evening prayers, which are held in congregation. The Imam, who leads the prayer, begins with the first chapter of the Qur’an on the first day of Ramadan, reciting the sacred text loudly. He moves on from chapter to chapter, passage to passage, each night, finishing the complete Qur’an on the last day of Ramadan. Not surprisingly, these prayers tend to be quite long, lasting for to two or three hours. In addition, more pious individuals may read the Qur’an silently at home.”

For followers of the faith, fasting is the sincerest form of worship by both the individual and the collective society. Fasting is regarded as one of the main pillars of Islam along with daily prayers, payment of zakat (obligatory giving to the poor, 2.5% of one’s annual income), and hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca). While fasting is obligatory for most Muslims there are exceptions to those on medication, people with prolonged afflictions, elderly, young children and breast feeding mothers. Also, if a women is menstruating or if you are traveling you are allowed to eat but are required to make up the extra week at the end.

In the Quran, the purpose of fasting is to practice self restraint. During the month of Ramadan, Muslims are asked to restrain from food, drink, sex and all disorderly, abusive and aggressive behavior. Under this category also follows no smoking or kissing. You are to continue on with your daily affairs despite the lack of such luxuries. With the lack of these elements in your daily life one is to become more focused on daily prayer, serving humanity and serving God. Ramadan is not just the month of fasting but also the month of giving. Fasting is to help people feel the pains of hunger and thirst to better understand those less fortunate and appreciate what they have. It moves people to do more for the poor and needy. The financial giving of zakat is also a way to purify ones wealth. “In addition to zakat, most Muslims also give sadqa, or charity. Ramadan is the month when most charity is given and charitable deeds are done. In Britain, Muslim charities such as Islamic Relief and Muslim Aid collect millions of pounds in zakat and sadqa during Ramadan from the Muslim community. Some of this money is distributed to the deprived segments of British Muslim communities, but most goes to development projects in the Third World. Ramadan is also the month when many young Muslims sign up to do voluntary work overseas.”

Ramadan also acts as a social lubricator. Following sunset, families and friends gather together and break the fast (think breakfast, breaking the fast). The month of fasting ends at the sight of the first new moon. Islam places a lot of emphasis on the relationship between humans and the cosmos. The idea is to feel the ripple of time and be as close with nature as possible. The end of the fast is called Eid ul-Fitr. It is a celebration of gifts, cookies and new clothes. You cater to your family and neighbors. Ramadan and fasting is about more than just restraint from bodily desire but it is about becoming closer to God and focusing on serving him and your community with concrete deeds. It is about being the best you can be and being thankful for all that you have and realizing what it feels like for many who do not have what you do.

So while this Ramadan will be particularly challenging due to climatic circumstances it will give people a chance to really show their dedication to God and humanity. I will be supporting all going through this great challenge during the coming August. I respect dearly the commitment they will be making and will pray for good health. I think that we can all learn something from such dedication and good will. Please if you know friends that will be going through this back home be a branch of support for them and it is a great opportunity to open up dialogue and learn about this important Islamic month, a truly selfless and honest month.

Voting

I witnessed my first elections here in Morocco. Every 6 years communal elections take place and this year in particular was revolutionary for Morocco. While visiting a fellow Peace Corps volunteer in her site and hanging out with our Moroccan friends we were able to participate in the preparation and aftermath of the elections. This year there was a strong push to fight against the corruption and get it out of the system. It was not easy my Moroccan friends informed to me. The days leading up to the election and the day of elections a lot of money, rocks and dirty words are thrown around as people try to convince one another to vote for their representative.

Corruption has become a norm in Moroccan life and politics. Particularly during the time of elections vast amounts of the illicit giving of money, promises, power and merchandise are used to persuade voters and vote counters. Sadly, violence also occurs on some levels.

“For instance, on Sunday, June 31, in the region of El-Attaouia, municipality of Kelaat Sraghna (south of Morocco), an electoral candidate accompanied by an authority assistant (Mqadem) were distributing money to people of the province when, suddenly, the local authorities of the Royal Gendarmerie arrested them with a sum of money estimated at 300 million centimes (approximately € 265686.29) . The detainee who is named Ennakaz L'Arbi, one of the elders and a former member of the municipal council of El-Attaouia, is a candidate belonging to The Istiqlal party whose leader is Abbas El Fassi, the Moroccan prime minister.

In the town of Mediouna, near Casablanca, violent clashes have also broken out between supporters of The Istiqlal party and those of Authenticity and Modernity, which lead to burning a barn and a house in the ownership of a candidate belonging to Authenticity and Modernity party. What is more, some people have tried to burn a fuel station in the same town

To conclude, it should be noted that the number of arrests related to elections has reached 320 accused. The majority of them are accused of using money in order to win over voters, exploiting the property of the State, and causing violence.”

Although this is slightly disturbing but surprisingly accurate a change is occurring as we speak. In this small town that I witnessed the elections in I am proud to report that the party fighting against corruption won in a few parts of town. Young people and old were chanting we need the change in opposition to some scary corrupt and powerful figures. It was reminiscent of my calls for the need for change with Obama. Corruption is not an easy thing to fight but with the support of the community, joining together and recognizing the inequalities currently in the system much can be done. This is a victory for parts of the town. While this one particular man won in a certain part of town, 8 others were also elected for different sections of town. I was told that 4 out of the 9 are not corrupt, a change they say, and a change it is even if it looks insignificantly low.

Another victory in the Moroccan communal elections is that of the progress and inclusion of women in the political system. Thousands of women ran for local council this year, an unprecedented number which is trying to fill the new female quota. The government wants to boost the current 127 women in council positions to over 3,300. This will give Moroccan the largest amount of female elected officials in any Arab country. The political spectrum has normally been an all mans club and for some women, this is their first attempt to enter the patriarchal arena.

The increased encouragement for women to enter politics is made possible by the new 2004 amendments to Morocco’s Family Law by King Mohammad VI, which granted men and women equal rights in important arenas. Not only is this good for Morocco but also boosted the King’s popularity with the International community, standing as a role model on equal gender rights for Arab countries.

The spaces reserved for women across the country were overflowing with candidates as women were embracing the opportunity to make a change in their communities, in their country. The elections in the town I viewed elected two females for seats. Victorious. The only fear that I have of women being thrown into these positions is that many are not qualified or educated which could potentially be a threat to the success of other women in future elections. It is an amazing feat that they are in these positions but it is more than just filling status quo. This is a true opportunity for change and I wish all candidates, male and female the best of luck in the battle against corruption and for changes that help empower and raise their people and country.

Carpets, carpets, carpets. Morocco is sure not in a shortage of floor coverings. Carpets galore, colors, patterns, wool and more. There are so many carpets to choose from in this country that it is hard not to associate Morocco with their carpets. I would even go so far as to say the country has enough rugs to swathe the Great Wall of China. The market is so heavily saturated that there seems to be no room to infiltrate the booming trade unless your product goes above the norm.

In Zaouiat we also make carpets but carpets of a particular variety. Women typically recycle old sweaters and unwind them into balls of yarn and weave them into home décor. Due to this, the rugs appear aged and the colors generally would not appeal to the general public, unless of course you are a backpacking, antique collecting daughter of a hippy. Carpets are also difficult for tourists to take with them and tend to be on the more expensive side of gifts to bring home. To be prepared to enter the market with our product many improvements and financial investments would have to take part. This did not appear to me to be a good option with the competitive market in which we are a part of. What about new ideas, new projects, something that is not easily found, something we already have the knowledge and materials to create?

I held a meeting with the interested women of Zaouiat to do a rough market assessment. In Zaouiat we do not have a shortage of sheep or knowledge of natural dyes and wool spinning. We also live in a cold climate and the town nearby attracts many winter tourists who frequent the ski slopes in the vicinity. Surprisingly however, winter wear is not easily available and what is available are products from Spain or France. Almost all women know how to knit or crochet. Putting these factors together we have now decided to delve into the creation of a new line of winter wear via knitting and crochet utilizing local wool when possible. Women seem excited and we have begun knitting and crochet classes. I gave one of my knitted caps to my neighbor and within a few days she had replicated it to a T. I feel that this will be a promising activity and even if we do not make a large profit women will be able to suit up their children in homemade warmth which in the end would save money for the family. It is encouraging to see women creating already just after one workshop. Many who missed our previous meetings have even approached me in interest. As long as the ball keeps rolling and interests hold this could be a very promising activity. This summer will hopefully be spent in the stage of creativity and production which should be ready for a new line in late fall or early winter.

It has even inspired me to delve into the world of crafts farther than I previously would be comfortable to admit. Researching knitting and crochet patterns has brought to my attention just how large the underground scene of young knitters is these days. Many people it seems are still getting their knit on with group gatherings of stitching and bitching as they say. Using local products will also hopefully boost the value of our product to the market which I hope is becoming more conscious of product origin. So as you read this we are getting our knit on.

In February I moved into my first place and the freedom was immense. As much as I love my host family and still greatly do it was nice to be able to get back on a schedule that slightly resembled my previous life. I was able to eat what and when I wanted, sleep during hours that suited my internal clock, decorate a space that I could call me own and play my music to the loudest my laptop can allow.

The house was modest to say the least. I had a bedroom, small living room, kitchen and a bathroom. During the cold months in which I lived in said house I slept in the small living room next to the fireplace. I more or less took up residence in one room of the house only escaping to the kitchen for a glass of hot coco. The walls were painted a pale yellow, floors were cold cement. There was one window in the kitchen with a view of the Cedar Mountains. I became attached to having my own place but difficulties ensued due to the harshness of this past winter. I had severe water leakage from the snow and rain storms that saturated my house. Even with weeks of clear blue skies my house would not dry and everything began to mold and decompose. My new box of white envelopes was all sealed shut, my clothes became cold and moist and the pages of my books were cornering.

The entrance to my home was also not secure to my liking. The front of the house was made up of nailed scraps of wood with a door locked by a child’s pad lock. With a space open at the bottom of the door I witnessed mischievous cats escape through the front door when I would return home. One day, children, being unsupervised children, tore down a few of the front panels which I must admit was all too easy to accomplish. After this incident I decided there must be a better home for me.

My site mate was leaving soon as her term was about to expire so I took up residence with her and now am living in her house which is a step up. Her apartment is all well tiled, much grander in scale and has a double lock metal door and many windows to enjoy the morning sun. I feel secure and have more room than I know what to do with. It consists of a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, entrance parlor and much larger living room where I even found a place to set up a desk to write this blog.

The house is also located near the river and I can enjoy the sounds of rushing water when I fall asleep and the sounds of donkeys braying when I wake. My new home is also large enough to host visitors so for those interested in a visit you are more than welcome and you will be accommodated as if you were a king in my village. I am glad I can share pictures with you but I would be thrilled to have you in my company in my first official house to myself. As the Moroccans would say MrHaba (your welcome).

Education beyond the books

A recent visit to Morocco brings to light a common humanity

Chase GunnellThe Daily Evergreen 02/25/2009

MARRAKESH, Morocco – No carefully crafted word or scenic photograph could do it justice. An oasis for the senses, Morocco captures your mind and tugs at your soul.

Islamic prayer calls echo from mosques five times daily, mixing with the beat of African drums. The taste of kebabs, mint tea, honey and other more alien cuisines. The fragrant smell of incense and hashish, mixed with the scent of sweat, donkeys and motorbike exhaust. The sight of orange groves and golden minarets. The feel of the scorching desert sun overhead and dusty streets underfoot.

It is a place of blinding contrast. There is abject poverty in the market alleys and Ferraris parked outside the Royal Gardens. Women are covered head-to-toe in traditional Muslim dress, walking with men wearing Gucci jeans. Whole chickens are roasted over open flames and are eaten by hand, only blocks from KFC.

As a white American in Arabic Africa, to me, Morocco felt otherworldly. A place far beyond the familiar, marching to a very different beat. But it’s a beat that is entirely captivating.

My Moroccan education began in the chaotic and crowed alleys of Djemaa el Fna, Africa’s largest marketplace. A giant square at the base of the Koutoubia Mosque, the Djemaa is an anthill of activity.

Wandering among the forceful hustling of orange juice sellers, kebab venders, snake charmers, fortune tellers and black market dealers with everything from fake designer brands to leopard skins, it’s a trial by fire. But one that leaves you wiser if you make it to the other side.

Adhan, the Islamic prayer call, rings out over the city every few hours. It’s beautiful when it’s not waking you up at 5 a.m.

Observing a man dismount his bicycle in the middle of the sidewalk, remove his shoes, kneel facing Mecca and begin rigorously giving praise to Allah, I felt fortunate to experience a window into a religion grossly misunderstood by Western society.

Saturday, a bus trip to the Ouzoud waterfalls in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains brought a glimpse of Moroccan life beyond the city walls. Under snow-capped peaks, we passed sheep herders, olive groves, and Berber villages to a place of both astounding natural beauty and wrenching poverty.

The falls themselves are one of the tallest in Africa, sending cascades of water – red with African dirt – into a gorge more than 100 meters deep. But nearby is a collection of vendors and beggars living off a trickle of tourist trade.

On our final day in Marrakesh, Tony – my traveling companion from WSU – and I choose to forgo the 80 Dirham (about $10) cab ride and walk to the airport far on the outskirts of town. Leaving Africa humbly on foot seemed fitting.

Trekking through the desert, down dusty streets and past herds of camels, I contemplated my experiences in Morocco – seeing the Arab and African world up close, living meagerly, haggling for every meal, and immersing ourselves in a place so vastly different from the one we call home. It was an unparalleled cultural education.

The U.S. is at war in two Muslim countries. Our soldiers are dying in distant lands, fighting people who seem foreign and out of touch with our Western reality. We see terrorist attacks on the nightly news and cringe at an entire culture.

Truly capturing Morocco is beyond my skill as a writer. But if there’s one thing I could impart from my journey, it’s that underneath the veil of culture, religion, and dress, the people here are as human as you or me.

Travel brings one indisputable truth: Arab, African, European, American, we are all citizens of humanity. We can recognize our differences – they make life exciting – but we must learn to celebrate this universal union before petty contrasts rip us further apart.

Dogs in morocco do not wear swanky sweaters, jeweled collars, rain boots or ribbons. Mention doggie boutique and be faced with puzzlement and possibly disgust. The life of a Moroccan dog in the country is rough and unpolished. You survive if you are fit to survive. A dog is on his own in a dog biscuit less world. Some dogs do have owners but most roam around searching for a place to rest or something to eat. However, many are sick, dirty, homeless and emaciated. Without the practice of neutering or spading puppies are born like chicken eggs.

Due to the inherited instinct of territorialism and cruel treatment by children, dogs that are owned by people can be vicious and extremely dangerous. I have frequently come across such hostility on my daily runs or bike rides and had to bend down to pick up a stone for fear of my own safety. Having been bitten before I have adapted precautionary measures. Although wildly frightened of the unleashed roaming dogs I sympathize with them. I know that they are how they are because of the conditions in which they live.

Having a weakness for canine companionship I put out a word to a few friends that if they happen to come across a puppy in distress I just might be interested. This of course was much easier than I really thought at the time and within a week a friend called me about a puppy she saved in the streets. I was to meet her in a few days to get the puppy but due to common illnesses faced by young pups she passed away within a day. A few days later another friend of mine knew of a family that just had a litter of three puppies. I went to go see them and fell for one. I had to wait a few weeks to pick him up as he was too young. A week later the puppies were all eaten by another dog, he also managed to eat a chicken. The same friend found another puppy which he took in for a night and brought it to me the next day. She was beautiful with bright green eyes. I spent the whole day playing with her and thinking of a name. Finally a puppy.

After sincere contemplation I came to name her Veda after the Bhagavad-Gita. Some of the earliest Sanskrit Hindu scriptures. It directly translates to wisdom or knowledge.

The first night however she started getting sick and wouldn’t hold down food. After not eating all the next morning or afternoon I tried to at least get her to drink water. Via syringe I gave her water and chicken broth. Every effort was met with regurgitation. For two days I tried to feed her with the syringe, enticed her with tasty chicken but no improvement. She would try to run away and find a quiet spot to hide and lay. After three days of having her she passed away in the night. I have never personally handled a dead animal but it was heartbreaking.

Life is hard here as it is and taking an animal in without the proper facilities such as a veterinarian nearby it would only be more distressing to have an animal. I have wished I could have done more for Veda but she went down her path regardless. I have called off the forces on searching for a pup. Maybe in a different environment I could try again.

I saw a bloated sheep in the river today. A large balding man on a picnic with his wife tried to push it downstream with his stick, so they could continue on. She stood watching over as the sheep was entangled between the uprooted tree.

She decided at one point to continue on with the picnic knowing that this incident should be normal, she played her part slightly disgusted.

I have to be careful and selective. Avoid the café’s frequented by prostitutes. Sometimes when I sit alone and a man walks in and sees me I feel these are his first thoughts. Here I am, French, a lone female traveler or just maybe the quick fix he’s willing to pay for.

Mostly men walk in and sit down with their miniature coffees, smoking their cheap cigarettes, lighters strategically placed on the table. The choice seats are by the window or curbside to carelessly gaze at the passerby’s, strangers and the estranged. Young boys, men, congregate by the door. If I enter with the opposite sex, a friend, it could possibly open the door for people to converse about me or feel more comfortable to approach me if I should return unaccompanied.

The known cigarette vendor walks around ready to respond and sedate the first nicotine itch. If you’re too broke to pay the durham and a half (.18), the toxic air will be sure to sedate you. Here smoking is more than ever a mask of idleness.

Lone men, wandering, easily aroused, standing, smoking, and stalking. Idle, dull escapism.

Types of cafes in Morocco

1. Women are not allowed and you wouldn’t want to try even if you desired to make a bold gender statement. These tend to be filled with the older crowd of gentlemen all faced towards the television screen or streets. Here you will find cigarette smoke and glares.

2. If you are women you are a prostitute so don’t be expected to be treated otherwise. Generally in larger towns or cities. I find these places have the best pastries. Young men, old men, all men are here. If you go bring a friend. You don’t need to make new friends at this café.

3. Moroccan women generallywill go accompanied by a male. I can go as I am a foreigner and not feel as if I am constantly being looked at. Establishments like these are found in larger towns and cities and cater mostly towards tourists. I am not French.

Google's carbon footprint exposed

Published: Wednesday 14 January 2009

Search engines such as Google generate massive CO2 emissions, shows a study by US physicist Alex Wissner-Gross.

Describing his research in the Sunday Times, the Harvard academic said that despite Google's secrecy over its carbon footprint, he had calculated on the basis of publicly available information that each Google search generates an estimated 5-10 grams of CO2. The newspaper reported that two Google searches releasing 7g of CO2 were almost the equivalent of boiling a kettle for a cup of tea. Wissner-Gross later said his work was focused on the web overall, and the example of tea kettles was not one of his.

The scale of the search engine's carbon footprint is due to the fact that the request is sent to multiple servers across the world, but only the quickest response reaches the user, according to Wissner-Gross.

"Google isn't any worse than any other data centre operator. If you want to supply a really great and fast result, then it's going to take extra energy to do so," he told the BBC.

Google, which is keen to promote its image as a green company, dismissed the figures as "many times too high". It claimed on its official blog that a typical search returning results in under 0.2 seconds amounts to about 0.2 grams of CO2.

"We've made great strides to reduce the energy used by our data centres, but we still want clean and affordable sources of electricity for the power that we do use," the internet giant stated, referring to a $45 million investment in breakthrough clean energy technologies in 2008.

On average, every second spent browsing the web produces 0.02g of CO2 per second, according to the study. Wissner-Gross emphasised that as the amount of animations and video content increases, the number can be as high as 0.03g every second.

According to the physicist, the electricity consumption of the computer must take most blame for the carbon footprint of a "typical website experience", followed by the network infrastructure that transmits the website. The servers hosting the website are the smallest contributors, he said. His analysis of the Office of the UK Prime Minister's website on Saturday 10 January showed that it had been only operating at 64% of its network energy efficiency, while the efficiency of the busy BBC News website was only 49%.

Gartner, an information technology research company, estimated in 2007 that the IT industry was already causing 2% of global CO2 emissions, the equavalent of the carbon footprint of the entire global aviation industry.

The EU is currently planning to introduce energy-efficiency standards for the ICT sector to fight climate change and reduce energy waste (EurActiv 12/12/08). The Commission is expected to publish policy recommendations after an industry report dated June 2008 argued that the industry's impact on the climate would grow rather than diminish if measures were not taken (EurActiv 27/06/08).

NOW INTRODUCING: BLACKLE!

Black Google Would Save 750 Megawatt-hours a Year

As noted, an all white web page uses about 74 watts to display, while an all black page uses only 59 watts. I thought I would do a little math and see what could be saved by moving a high volume site to the black format.Take at look at Google, who gets about 200 million queries a day. Let's assume each query is displayed for about 10 seconds; that means Google is running for about 550,000 hours every day on some desktop. Assuming that users run Google in full screen mode, the shift to a black background [on a CRT monitor! mjo] will save a total of 15 (74-59) watts. That turns into a global savings of 8.3 Megawatt-hours per day, or about 3000 Megawatt-hours a year. Now take into account that about 25 percent of the monitors in the world are CRTs, and at 10 cents a kilowatt-hour, that's $75,000, a goodly amount of energy and dollars for changing a few color codes.[ed. This got Dugg. The link to the wattage for different colors is from EnergyStar.][ed. There's a follow up as well.][ed. And now there's a FAQ too! 7/28/2007.][ed. OK seriously, this is the definitive piece on this, very long Wiki-esque post that covers everything to date. 8/6/2007]"

It wasn’t my first time in Rabat but the first time I wasn’t confined to my hotel under Peace Corps training rules. I remember when I was there prior under those conditions and I was scared of the city. It all seemed frightening. This time I am happy to say my mind has changed about the city.

I went to Rabat to attend a three day GAD workshop. GAD stands for Gender and Development. It is a committee I am on in Peace Corps. I was selected by my stage as a representative and am thrilled about the position. Here is an overview straight out of the donkey’s mouth:

Overview

The Gender and Development (GAD) Committee is a group of eight Volunteers, representing each stage, elected by their fellow PCVs. The purpose of the committee is to ensure that gender issues and activities are incorporated into community projects. Gender includes women, men, girls and boys. GAD is an integral part of all Peace Corps programming, staff and volunteer pre-service and in-service training. As such, committee members facilitate general communication among Peace Corps staff and volunteers, community partners, and other Peace Corps countries as well as provide resources on relevant gender and development trends in Morocco.

The committee has three annual meetings, is a resource for volunteer efforts, and collaborates with Moroccan NGOs on gender issues and advocacy. Activities the GAD committee typically assists with include GGLOW (Girls and Guys Leading our World) activities and camps, regional gender and development workshops, tea talks, harassment (programming & training), International Women’s Day, Take Your Daughter or Son to Work Day, International Day to Eliminate Violence Against Women or 16 Days Campaign of Activism against Gender-based Violence, Women to Women (cross-cultural exchange curriculum), and more.

This was my first meeting and it was exciting to get away from my site for a little while and enjoy the big city life. While Rabat is nothing like New York big city life with its raves, bars and who know what’s, Rabat has nice high class restaurants, bars which is surprising since alcohol is not tolerated in Islam and some museums. While most of the big city life things are out of the range of my Peace Corps budget, I found some ways to enjoy the city. I spent a few nights hanging out with some Full Bright scholars that I was introduced to and experienced their life in Morocco. We went to the international film festival the first two nights. First film was an Irish film, although it was English it was Irish English and I really could have benefited from some English subtitles. It was about a lonely, simple garage man who worked at a gas station. It was kind of dark. The second night was a film in Portuguese with French subtitles about an old man looking for historical information about Christopher Columbus. Maybe it was because I could not understand most of what was said but it just might have been the worst film I have ever seen. This however was not a problem because I felt jazzy being back in the city.

I decided that I would take a personal day after my GAD meeting to enjoy the sun. It is remarkably warmer in Rabat than my site and I had to take up the opportunity to get away from the rain and snow. I spent the day being a tourist which is actually very enjoyable. I started it off going to an art exhibit showing some modern Islamic art as well as a great exhibit done by children aged 9-14. The children’s exhibit gave me some great ideas about some art activities I can do with my children here.

After the dose of encased culture I went to go see one of the cathedrals in Rabat. It was beautiful and new. The stained glass brought me back to Rome. The Stations of the Cross, depicted in a comic book like fashion was made out of pieces of tile. Following this, I went to the sea.

There I saw waves breaking as I sat up high at a little café nooked into a cranny, tucked into a garden. I spent a good part of the day there drinking mint tea without sugar and speaking some Italian with my waiter. I truly felt refreshed and ready to carry on.

During my time there I also saw a lot of construction, very well dressed people, expensive stores, bars and I really felt as if I was in a different country. There is a shocking contrast between the city and the village. I ran into a conversation at a restaurant/bar one night where this guy from the city was questioning a Peace Corps volunteer about why we were in Morocco. He felt that Morocco didn’t need us, that they were developed. Many people who grow up in the city just don’t know about how a majority of the people in the villages live. I guess there would be no reason for them to travel out that way. After a long conversation he felt sorry that people from outside of his country had to come in and help when some of the people within his country are able. I feel the conversation ended with providing all participants with some insight. We can all do something to help; we just have to find ways to do it. Opportunities are all around us if we look for it.

I thank Rabat, the guy at the restaurant/bar and GAD for a fulfilling, productive, enjoyable, contemplative and relaxing few days.

So I know it has been a while and oh boy do I have stories for you.

This one goes way back into last year.

It was my first week officially at my site. A local friend at my site had begun a project of fixing up his cave. One of the many old caves in Zaouiat. It is where many families lived prior to having their now concrete buildings. Most homes are still built around them and are used as storage shelters, kitchens or barns of sorts. This young man in particular wanted to set it up as a tourist destination with the intention of hosting people there over night with local music, food and get this, playing old black and white Charlie Chaplin films on this old film projector he found.

So one day before some inspectors were coming to look at the cave I offered to come and give it a look over and help clean and set up. He called me in the morning and I walked over. As I descended some stairs outside into his house I was greeted by his dog.

The dog, doing what any good watch dog would do came charging at me. I had nothing with me, not a bag, a rock, nothing. The dog ran towards me while I stood half way down the stairs and immediately latched onto my leg. I was taken by surprise. I thought maybe he just wants to sniff, figure out who I am. But he went straight for the attack. I had on my heavy duty Levis which lived up to their legend of durability. I didn’t know how to protect myself as it all happened so fast. I just kept my hands away so that those would not be bitten. He clenched onto the inner of my left knee and I froze. Then he went for the back of my right leg. My friend’s aunt came to the rescue and shook him off me and dragged him inside.

I didn’t feel pain immediately and just shook it off like it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to start any problems and went on inspecting the cave as if nothing had happened. They all felt terrible about the incident. I didn’t look at the wound until a few hours later to realize that the bite had penetrated my skin and blood was drawn. Following protocol I went and got medical attention from Peace Corps and received all three of my rabies vaccinations. Luckily my friend had papers on the dog’s vaccination and I felt a little bit better. Who wants rabies?! Rabies is a scary, scary thing which doesn’t show signs for a few days. The best part was the interaction with my host mother when I showed her my bites. She immediately had me sit on the coach and ran into the kitchen. I had no idea what she was grabbing. Antibiotic maybe, no, not antibiotic. Nothing prepared me for the shoe. She came out with an old white stileto shoe which she placed on the raging fire place and then attempted to burn my wound shut. I couldnt help but break into hysterical laughter, mostly out of nervousness. I most certainly did not want a burn ontop of a dog bite. I calmed her down and told her it was not necessary and that I had medicine. I went into my bedroom and reapplied it in front of her to assure her that I was okay. She felt terrible and dragged my friends aunt over to my house to reinspect my wound. We all sat down and drank tea together and constantly assured them that I was going to be okay and no I did not want to go to the hospital. Haha, what a day that was.

Now all that I have left is some pretty cool scars and a great story. I survived a dog attack. It has just reinforced my fear of dogs here and I don’t hesitate to pick up a large rock when I go for walks. Dogs here are breed for different purposes. Not for being cuddly affectionate animals but being sheep dogs, watch dogs and alarm systems.

I am alright but damn, dogs really are ancestors of wolves.

I’v been insisting that I learn how to kneed bread and that I want to help them but my mother just gently laughs at me and tells me my hands are for writing. I did however convince them that I could cook and I made my first attempt. A simple alfredo. I took a trip into Ifrane and searched high and low for the right type of cheese settling for the only package of grated cheese I could find. My only other option in the entire city was a block of Gouda. When I brought the package home my family was astonished at the package and it took a few moments to convince them that yes it was in fact cheese. Normally cheese is grated at home.

I went to work in the small kitchen and was being surveyed closely by my host sister, brother and mother who found it amusing that yes this young American girl does know how to cook. It was a little difficult trying to cook with them there as the sister refused to let me strain my own pasta or stir the pasta myself, afraid that I would burn myself. Luckily alfredo does not take a long time to prepare and before we knew it we commenced eating. I closed my eyes for just a few seconds with the first bite and briefly envisioned myself sitting in the Piazza of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome with a nice glass of vino. Luckily the family enjoyed the pasta and I received a round of applause at the end of the meal by my whole family.

Bliss. I have arrived to my final site in Zaouiat Sidi Abdessalam. Excitement overcame me. Even my blind host father embraced me and expressed his excitement I was to stay there. One of my host sisters will also be staying in Zaouiat from now on. No longer will she travel to Meknes. I am glad; she keeps me company and helps me with the language.

Having arrived in October I was immediately introduced to the consequences of living at high altitudes and in cold weather. When it rains here the temperature drops drastically and the village streets turn into cascades, feeding into the river below. When I first arrived the weather was warming and the river nearly dried out. There have been fears in Morocco of desertification and lack of water but the past few weeks have been nothing but rain. The moisture is seen as a blessing to many farmers as it helps with their crops but in many parts of Morocco the rain is becoming a larger issue and vast parts of Rachidia, a nearby region have been witnessing severe flooding. Every night on the television there are new visions of the destruction the rain has caused.

The moisture is starting to drip from the ceiling leaving its imprint on the cold concrete walls; taking shapes like clouds do in the sky. If it were not for the wood stove I might freeze to death. I can see my breath as I sit in my room. I have been confined to the small wood stove in the communal living room where the family sleeps, eats and spends all their time. All of the walls have one long sofa against them. The father sleeps on a mattress on the floor and there is enough room for a small round table which we eat at and a TV that is on all day and receives three channels. The shows are all soap operas with a few dubbed French and Spanish ones. News plays on occasions in both Arabic and French. On Sunday mornings I was amused to see that the Bernstein Bears cartoon airs here. I grew up on the Bernstein Bears books.

It’s interesting how all the homes in Zaouiat have a television in them and it is the main source of entertainment. During dinner the television is also a guest at the table and like the family story teller it does most of the talking.

I just found out that my brother here is attending school without any heat in the building. He is also without any boots and he was freezing when he came home from school for lunch today. He tried fitting into his mothers black boots with pompoms but they did not fit. It took me 15 minutes of insisting before he put on my boots that fit just right. I can see him there in my mind, sitting in a cold concrete classroom, trying to remain focused in the bitter cold with his arctic hands frozen to his pencil.

Here you heat the person and not the room. It is certainly more difficult to adjust to at first but it actually makes more economical and ecological sense. We have come to depend on the wood stove. Cooking our dinner on the flames of the fire. There is constantly a tea pot on top with water which is used to wash your face and we use the flames to toast our bread in the morning.

On October 18th, twenty-four women participated in a group discussion concerning the history and future of artisan production in Zaouiat. Initially, we began the meeting with our questions in Tamazight. However, the women suggested we conduct the meeting in Darija. Although the change in language proved challenging, we were able to progress through our questions with the assistance of our LCF.

Following our meeting with the artisans, and informal ones with members of the community in Zaouiat, we had two Needs Assessments. The first was a formal one we compiled by asking the weavers directly and the second was our impression of the current attitude and state of mind of the women, obtained through informal discussions and speaking with our families at home. While the first may have been closer in form to the ideal we will strive for in service, the meeting was difficult to control and we felt that the list we ended up with was neither reflective of the artisan’s needs, nor realistic for us to implement. The women did agree that, among other things, they would be interested in workshops on natural dyeing and forming organizations, but the predominant demand was for community amenities.

However, since our informal analysis had shown that attempts at forming a cooperative in the past had simply ground to a halt, and attempts at selling to Al-Akhawayn University or setting up pricing systems based on output had failed and often cost the women money, we were hesitant to approach large projects or make promises. Rather, we felt that the most important thing was to give something concrete and, in some way, helpful, rather than uncertain hopes. We ultimately decided to hold workshops with guest speakers, since it was realistic and more beneficial, given our limited language skills and time frame. Amina Yabis led the first about natural dyeing, as the women would be able to use natural materials around Zaouiat for their own work. We also decided to invite a speaker from the Artisana in Azrou, Hossein Zahri, because we felt that the majority of the women were not aware of either the benefits or pitfalls of Nedis, cooperatives, and associations, nor of the steps necessary to create them.

Preparing for these workshops was relatively simple; we invited Amina for the day of Sunday, October 26th, and Hossein for the afternoon of Monday the 27th. The week before we bought wool for demonstrations from the suq in Azrou, and prepared it for dyeing as well as we could, based on our research of the process. We invited the weavers who had seemed most interested in serious discussion of their work at the meeting, and ones who had particularly impressed us with their skill. We met Amina in Ifrane, and although she was somewhat late so were most of the women, and after a brief scare that we were going to throw a party and no one would come, we finally had our speaker, a medium-sized but interested audience, and all the materials necessary.

Amina, a practiced speaker, did very well transferring knowledge of how to dye with natural products and which materials produce specific colors. As an attempt to leave concrete reminders, we bought a book from her to leave in the community, which explains the whole process and gives more details on the materials. Furthermore, we made bundles of the samples for each household attending, which was simple but pleased the women. Overall, they seemed happy and several at least said that they would use the skills in the future. As they left, we reminded them of the meeting on Monday.

The next morning, we called to confirm with Hossein that he would be attending that afternoon, and then went around the community reminding those we had marked as interested and motivated. At 3 o’clock, a few women showed up exactly on time, and more trickled in until we had a good-sized audience of about ten. At 3:30, we called Hossein to confirm that he was on his way, and learned that he was patiently waiting for us in the Artisana in Azrou. After he explained that he had a meeting in Ifrane, and could not come to Zaouiat that day, we spent a few frantic minutes discussing our options and ultimately decided that since we had the women there, we should discuss their experiences with working together and with weaving as a business.

The discussion was essentially a more rational and focused repeat of the first one, in which we were speaking with women who took their work seriously and wanted to explain it to us. We found that they enjoyed working together and felt more productive in small groups. Furthermore, they sometimes shared the responsibility of purchasing supplies or selling goods when a few could not go to the suq or markets. Concerns about more formal production arrangements seemed to be about lack of productivity in large groups, or misunderstandings such as believing that many women would be required to share one loom. Regarding general business practices, we found that some of the women had difficulty pricing their products and recording the costs of inputs, and would occasionally sell for less than they had paid for materials. The meeting ended with no real conclusion, but at the least the women did seem interested in forming an association or cooperative in the near future.

Unlike the other training groups ours was rather unique. Most groups performed the technical aspect of their training in their community which they lived. As most inhabitants of Zaouiat are farmers and our program managers did not know of any artisans here we were assigned to an already organized co-op in a city roughly 30 minutes away. The majority of products created by these women consist of woven carpets, each done on a hand loom. Here is their link if you would like more information. http://www.freewebs.com/azrouartisana/amalweavingcooperative.htm

Our task was to work with these women and develop an action plan to help them in the course of our training which is roughly a month in a half. On our first day at the association we asked a series of questions about what a typical day was like for the women and how things generally work there. The next meeting we had was with the executives of the Co-op in which we had them create a community map. We provided markers and a large piece of blank paper and asked them to draw their city, locating important landmarks and places that they go to frequently.

It is interesting the way in which they decided to complete the map. The women were very timid at first and originally wanted us to draw the map as they claimed to have no drawing skills. After some encouragement one of the women took hold of the marker and with the direction of the other ladies drew a large circle in the middle to mark the co-op. Lines were drawn out of the co-op, marking the distance each women was from the co-op and who was close to who. When asked where certain landmarks were in the city they had difficultly being able to place them in relationship to themselves. Although this map did not provide an actual representation of their city it did provide insight to the lives of the women and their way of thinking. Women in the co-op general go straight from home to work and vice versa, not really being able to walk around their own city. Their life is structured around the co-op and the lines drawn appear to be a representation of their relationship to their community.

When asked where they do not like to go in the city the response from one lady was public parks as she doesn’t like people to watch her.

After our third trip we discovered that continuing our work at the artisana there was going to be more difficult than we imagined. One of our first concerns was that we were learning a different language than the artisans speak. They speak Darija and we were learning Tamazight. We had a difficult time asking questions and conducting interviews and understanding their responses. The travel was also proving to be an issue as it was far away and took away time from our language lessons and, the schedules of the women were not that flexible that they could receive us when we came for our brief hour sessions twice a week.

Fortunately, after talking with the women in Zaouiat we were extremely excited to find that yes there are artisans here but most just do not think of theselves as such. Almost every woman in Zaouiat is a carpet weaver and has a loom in her house. The products range from traditional carpets, pillows, jellabas, buttons, purses, needlepoint, embroidery, knit sweaters, and pants. Weavers use materials from different sources. Sometimes they recycle wool from old sweaters to make their rugs. Women who own sheep will often prepare wool on their own. The women also use commercially processed yarn purchased most often at the s-suq in Azrou.

The artisans of Zaouiat are not uniform. Many use traditional Berber patterns but we also found examples of individual creativity in the textiles of Zaouiat. One woman sells embroidered cloth to a shop in Fez. Another has found a market in France for her carpets. Yet another woman sells knitted garments to friends and family throughout Zaouiat. Several women participate in Ifrane’s craft fair in the spring. Although all are talented, some artisans are more skilled in commerce.

We walked around and saw many carpets made here and were extremely impressed in their quality and design. The women in Zaouiat however are not yet formally organized and only create carpets and blankets for their families. We have heard that there was an attempt a few years ago to form an association and the paperwork was near completion but due to the expenses of traveling to Meknes to process the paperwork and the cost of making photocopies the project was dropped.

The more information we found out about the weavers in Zaouiat the more we decided we had to convince our program manager to let us do our technical in Zaouiat. We had many opportunities to integrate with the people of Zaouiat. We adopted Tamazight names, which were assigned by our friends in the village. I will forever be referred to as Karima in Morocco, which I have heard is a good name meaning generosity.

We have witnessed many situations in Zaouiat, both religious and cultural. During the first week, we were walking around and stumbled into the ceremonial recognition of a new soccer field where we met many local and regional officials. Unfortunately, we also experienced a death in our town. Our cook’s mother passed away and we went to her house to pay our respects. We witnessed the grieving at her house and then saw the ceremony at the cemetery the following day. In addition, we celebrated L-Eid in Zaouiat, which we spent with our families. As a group, we united and went around the village greeting people and enjoying a cup of tea at each house. The women in our group also had traditional henna painted on their hands for the celebration. One of the more entertaining moments was when the group was dressed in traditional clothing and paraded around for our families. We learned that the best way to integrate into the community was to make time for tea and conversation with the families.

Not only were we already integrated into our community but the women showed a willingness to work with us. Thankfully after a meeting with the program manager we were allowed to stay in Zaouiat and perform our technical training in Zaouiat. We only had two weeks left in training and we had to make use of the time as effectively as possible. Our first step was to find a time in which of the women in town could get together and sit down with us for a little question and answering. We walked around house to house inviting women we knew weaved and invited them to attend. The local authorities, the Qaid, Moqadem, and Sheikh, played an integral role in inviting women to attend the meeting.

At the onset of our arrival we had to check in with local authorities stationed on higher ground. We followed the path laid out by the frequent trips taken by the donkeys only to find that the Calif (mayor) was out. As we walked back we discovered the reason for his absence at his post. It was the inauguration day of a new soccer field and darshabeb (free school) which was to be built. A mass of men lingered around the new field. Women watched from a far occasionally resonating a reverberating shriek which I was told is a customary way to welcome guests. While most local women stood afar few women, including the ones in my group stood amongst the elite men from outside the village. I later found out that one of the females was an engineer of the project; another is a VP of an office and one a president of an association. Fortune also graced us with the chance to meet the president of the Tamazight communities, who interestingly enough is deaf. (a deaf leader… something to pounder on in the future)

Shortly, the Caid showed up to the event. At that time, an elder of the village approached him vocalizing his objection to the field being built as he believed the land was stolen from him. With a lack of a written documentation of the land being his, there is not much to be done. Distressed, the older man became louder and the confrontation escalated. A group of men formed around the conflicting pair. Attentively the Caid listened to the man and tried his best to resolve the quarrel for the time being. Patience and listening skills I found are an honored characteristic of authorities in Morocco. One is supposed to firstly listen to what someone has to say and be patient before taking any action. Despite efforts however, the older man would not settle and the event became a little physical. At this point the local police took action and had to move the man away from the Caid so that the Caid could continue on with the dedication.

My CBT (Community Based Training) group made up of 4 other PCT’s(Peace Corps Trainees) was assigned to do our training in a small Berber farming village named Zaouiat Sidi Abdessalam located in the Middle Atlas Mountains. It is recorded that there are 240 households here and I am almost sure more animals than people. Inhabitants are believed to be related to the founder of the site, Sidi Abdessalam.

Abdessalam reportedly was a very religious man who decided to move away and live in solitude. He found this scenic landscape in a little valley with a stream running through its heart and decided to set up his abode. In intervals his family followed him to this site and when he died they erected a modest sized mausoleum on site which is still visited. It has been customary for inhabitants of Zaouiat to marry within the family and most people here are either married to first cousins or friends of relatives. Zaouiat in all its forms illustrates a collectivist community in which one looks out for the other.

Zaouiat feels like one large house and people walk around visiting each other unannounced and sit for hours drinking tea and conversing about the weather, how three cows died the night before due to cold and if one’s family is well. Due to the comfort of everyone being comfortable with one another, women here walk around in pajamas unless they go into the nearby cities for shopping in which they outfit themselves in jelabbas. Another characteristic of women’s dress here is a bath towel fastened onto their shoulders cloaked over their front acting as an apron and another defense against the cold. Men here on the other hand appear to be more modernly dressed and enjoy wearing various track suits and the young ones are fitted in the classic white and black converse. Since men have more freedom to travel and are generally the ones who go to the cities it only seems to make sense they would be more contemporarily dressed.

When my community based training group (CBT) and our Language, Cultural Facilitator (LCF) arrived into Zaouiat we were all delivered like babies in a basket to our home stay families. Everyone was very nice to us but with our limited vocabulary it was difficult to explain ourselves. We arrived with a vocabulary bank of 5 or so words which couldn’t get us past “Thank you” and “How are you?”. The first day I walked around with a little notebook and pen recording everything I could point to. At arrival, two of the home stay families pulled out last minute and two of the girls in my CBT group were periodically destitute. Fortunately within fifteen minutes of inquiry two families graciously opened their homes to them and we all were successfully placed within a family. We all were fortunately only a few steps away from one another. My family consists of my mother father and my 15 year old brother. I have three sisters. One is 23 and lives and works in Ifran, another is 20 and lives in Meknes and one is 22 and lives in Zaouiat with her husband. After briefly settling into our housing situation we went straight to our LCF’s house to being language lessons and make lunch.

During the time which we arrived, the whole community of Zaouiat was fasting for Ramadan and we had difficulty finding bread. An endearing woman over heard that we were in need of bread and she brought out a fresh loaf she had just baked to give to us. For a people who are said to live in poverty, the hospitality emanated is rich in quantity and quality. From the beginning our group felt welcomed and protected by the community. Everyone’s host mothers even insisted on accompanying us to class on the first day, afraid and assured that we would get lost despite literally being around the corner from where we all lived.

Stepping off the plane I was intoxicated by exotic new smells. It was a combination of what I imagined warm red sand to smell like, mixed with that of subdued exotic spices cooked into long grained rice and that familiar scent of someones grandmother. The air was warm and there was some humidity in the air but that was balanced by the feeling of dry earth. The time spent in Casablanca was short and we were quickly whisked off to Rabat for pre-service training. The view from the windows of our large luxury bus was that of newly paved str eets, donkey pulled carts, farm animals such as cows, sheeps and chickens as well as a few stray mangey dogs who rustled threw the scraps of greenery for nutrients.

I was surprised by the litter scattered across the semi barren land. What appeared to be plastic bags and products seems to have been imbeded in the earth just as long as the soil they polluted. Houses and buildings were scattered about and the structures were consistantly painted in shades of white and earth tones.

Rabat: September 9-12th

The hotel in Rabat was both comfortable and foreign. The smells of the food filled the air even though it is Ramadan, the time in which Muslims fast from sunrise to sundown. While in Rabat we recived vast amounts of information regarding safety and security. There seems to be an air of freight of the streets when locked up inside the hotel, hearing stories of how things can go wrong. From a quick view or survey from the balcony of the hotel to down below, the fear subsides. It is like Platos cave. Images and stories of the outside fill our mind but once we are allowed to step out and see things for ourself the reality is not quite as scary as we had imagined.

Satelites seem to adorn every rooftop.

The traffic can be freightening to a foreigner. There appear to be similarities in driving styles in Morocco to that of Italy. There is chaos yet an understanding of that chaos amongst drivers.

The Ambassador also came to speak to us and we found out some interesting tidbits. Apparently the United States and Morocco have long had good relations. Morocco was the first country to recoginze the United States independence. The Ambassador spoke of a copy of a letter he has between George Washngton and the Sultan of Morocco dated 1789 which thanks the Sultan for his support and that he was sorry he did not respond to the Sultans messages earlier as he was just finishing up a revolution and getting used to his recent election as president.

After a few weeks in Rabat we took off for a town in the Middle Atlas mountains. I wish I could tell you where but this is confidential.

Middle Atlas: September 12-21

The town we are staying in is surrounded by mountain peaks and cedar tree forests and there are rumors of monkeys off in the distance. A group of us went hiking on our day off and failed to find them however, the view was breathtaking. Surveying the land I realized this part of Morocco is not how touring books generally depict it to be. Yes, the land is sandy but there is also greenery all about. Morocco also has many plants similar to that of the ones I see at home but only of a slightly different variety. For example, inpatients, grapevines, verbenas, roses and such.

The days are relatively warm and the nights are much cooler. The other night I witnessed the most spectacular storm from the rooftop of our hotel. Surrounded by mountains I watched as a massive thunderstorm went around the circumference of our town. The lightening spectacle was like watching fireworks but due to the distance there was no loud crash. I must have stood there for a good hour just watching, stunned by the beauty.

While in training here we have been doing a lot of language and cultural training. We learned the ceremony of tea preparation, how to use a Turkish toilet, food and water safety and table etiquette. We also received a few shots which didn’t feel too good. The whole group of the Small Business Developers began learning Darija (Moroccan Arabic) for the first week and a half. The past few days however I was assigned with a few other students to begin learning Tamazight instead. Tamazight is the language spoken by the Berber communities in Morocco. It is the language of the indigenous communities and has been spoken for over 3,000 years. I’m extremely excited about this as I greatly desire to work with the Berbers and learn about their culture which has been put on the fringes of society since the westernizing of the country by the French.

The whole lot of us are all breaking up into smaller groups for 5’s and 6’s and sent off to our first session of community based training in which we will all spend two weeks with a host stay family to better learn Moroccan culture and language. I will be living with a mum, dad and two daughters (18 and 21 yrs) as well as a son (12yrs). I will be without internet for those two weeks so I will update you as soon as possible.

No need to be worried.

Morocco? Where is that?

Morocco is like a tree whose roots reach deep into African soil and which breathes the winds of Europe through it's leaves.

Morocco is located in Northwest Africa, separated a few miles from Spain via the Gibraltar Straight. Morocco is composed of the Sahara desert, coastal land in the north and the Middle Atlas Mountains which runs through its midsection.

Arabic is the official language, however French is also widely popular as well as a few Berber dialects. Morocco also houses one of the oldest University in the world, The University of Kaureein, founded in 859 A.D. in Fez, Morocco.

The national drink: mint tea

The national dish: cous cous

The Job: Small Business Development

aiding local artisan communities, mainly groups of women in rural areas product quality and service controlbusiness planning and managementorganizational development, individual empowerment community leadershipTraining: 11 weeks of Pre-Service Training in Azrou, Morocco (Middle Atlas Mountains), orienting myself with local resources, cultural and social contexts, learning either colloquial Moroccan Arabic of one of the Berber dialects. Living Adjustments:-Turkish toilets... look it up-eating from a communal platter of food with shared eating utensils and glasses-very different meal times-deficiency of alone time and personal space-lack of independent movement for women after dark-differences in dress (no revealing sun dresses)-prohibition of alcohol as is customary in a Muslim country

I was apprehensive. Well no, present tense, I am apprehensive about blogging more than I am about leaving for Morocco. Communicating virtually is something which I question the sincerity of. I would rather hold your hand and talk to you, looking into your eyes, or the space between your chin and shoulder blade.

Words seem to take on further characteristics once spoken orally. There is an ephemeral nature which places an immediacy and importance to the words. They are gone and you can only grasp on to a few quick phrases if you are attentive, some which you can hold onto long enough if they ingrain themselves.

What happens to things once you put them on the Internet? Is it preserved for cultures to view in generations to come after being filed in wherever things are filed, to better be searched for in the future by newly developed search engines? The soundness of this question is irrelevant for the time being, I am doing this to keep in touch with my loved and to be loves.

With all the above placed in a box to the side, I shall venture into the blogosphere and begin another journey blogging about my jaunt on Moroccan soil with the Peace Corps. For my close and dear, I wish this new tool will aid in experiencing with you that which I wish I could be doing with you by my side. For future, former or ambiguous participants in that which is the Peace Corps, I hope I can do justice in providing an unprocessed voice of a 22 year old female from New England participating in a two year small business project in Morocco, doing what I hope to be assistance to local artisans and craft persons alike.