Request for help from YOU!

So.... have you been thinking "How can I help Angelica and all the work shes doing (other than sending her an awesome care package, of course?)"  Lucky for you I know just how!  
Recently a village in my community expressed interest/want for a Sanitation System since they currently don’t have one… However, it’s expensive and not something I can cover with a Peace Corps grant.  So- we’ve (myself and community) written up another grant and now I need contributions from friends and family at home.  The total amount we need to complete this project is $9,227, but my community will contribute $4,327 (which is 46% of the final budget!) though labor, transportation and other various tasks.  So that leaves only $4,900 to help a village in my community fight disease, transmission of human waste into the crops/water and much more for years to come.

You can read more about the actual project here:
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=378-149

Now what I’m asking from all of you is to help me and my community! If you can donate anything, please do.  I know that everyone is busy and no one is made of money but any amount really does help.  Go without your Starbucks for a week, get an outfit at Goodwill instead of new or make dinner at home instead of going out and donate the difference!  Any amount- big or small- helps us to get to our end goal.  We can’t get started building until the grant is completely funded and its something I really want to get started on to ensure that it’s completed by my close of service May 2012 (a little over a year away!).

If you have any friends or family who you think might be interested in helping through donations please feel free to direct them to the donation page… The sooner this grant can be completely funded the sooner we can begin work on helping this community with their sanitation problem.

Take care and Shukran Bzzzzf (Thank you so much!)

And now we're expecting..... two puppies

Recently I decided it was finally time to suck it up, transport Lily to the city and finally get her spayed and immunized.  This wouldn’t be such a big deal in America, but here in Morocco this entails getting her into 2 forms of transportation, with lots of scared Moroccans and trying to keep her calm… and that just wasn’t something I was looking forward to. 

Before I share this story with you I have to tell you:

• I DID NOT want to have to do this to Lily with the given place, situation, etc.  But unfortunately it’s not like I have my choice of vet clinics here in Morocco.
• The doctor spoke better English than my Tashlheet, but things often don’t translate very well in regards to bedside manner (example: we are going to operate=I cut her open). 
• This story is pretty awful, especially if you’re a pet person… but unfortunately its all true.

So read on if you dare... After waiting forever in my Souk (go figure, I needed to get somewhere) I finally got Lily to the city.  I hadn’t fed her dinner or breakfast since she was going to be operated on, so the poor thing was hungry and tired.  I had planned to go in at the same time as another volunteer who had a male dog she wanted to get fixed.  You have to understand what an ordeal this has been, trying to find a vet that was willing to do the procedure and had the immunizations she needed.  This has literally been on my “to-do” list since October!!  So we finally get to the “vet” clinic, which is really an agricultural center in Ouarzazate.   My friend had got there before me, so her dog was already being snipped.  After greeting her she told me that her dog (Beaner) had woke up during the surgery and crying in pain.  This is obviously hard for any pet owner to hear and my friend was visibly upset.  After telling me the story she fainted… she landed hip first (thank god) and came to quickly, but needless to say- it was scary.  After Beaner was done being operated on the doctor carried him into the “waiting room”.  Poor Beaners tounge was hanging out of his mouth and after he tried to stand he fell on his face- it was awful to see.  This freaked Lily out like whoa and she had the death grip on my arm so I wouldn’t put her down.  After we finally coaxed lily into the “operating room” (picture a closet with boxes and medicines all over the place- awful, I know) he gave her the shot to knock her out.  Poor baby started crying and shaking, which of course made me cry.  It didn’t help the doctor kept saying “why you cry??”  Not what a pet owner wants to hear in the given circumstance.  After Lily was out the doctor told me to go and come back in 2 hours.  I couldn’t imagine sitting in that dirty room outside the “closet” where he was operation so I went to try and run some errands. 

After 45 minutes I get a call from the vet- not good.  I rush back to the clinic to find Lily laying on the floor in her own urine.  I immediately ask if this is normal and the doctor replies “no.”…. again, NOT GOOD.  I pick poor Lily up, she cant move, is terrified and crying.  The doctor then starts telling me he couldn’t operate because he saw a cyst in her belly.  He told me he thought it was urine and wants to look again since she’s not relieved herself.  Keep in mind this is all in broken English/Tashlheet.  So we put poor Lily back on the fold out table he uses for operations (still covered in Beaners hair and some blood) and he tries to find the cyst with the ultrasound machine.  Then he tells me shes pregnate.  Not possible right?!  She's only 6, 7 months max.  He then tells me she’s 9 months…. Which I’m still not sure if I believe.  This has turned into a day from hell at this point.  I have no idea what to do, if I should believe him, who the dad is if its true……. I guess I’ll know for sure in a few weeks.

He tried to show me the puppies (yes, 2 of them) on the ultrasound machine, I have no idea what I’m looking at.  He tells me the puppies are 3 weeks old.  This means that she either got pregnant when she jumped off my roof while I was gone or while escaped while my friend was watching her and got knocked up.  I then ask him what I should do and he tells me can operate and “kill puppies” but Lily will probably die too.  I barley wanted to do a simple surgery here so there is no way we’re having a real surgery done here. 

So… we’re expecting puppies.  Two of them.  March 20^th.  I have a friend, who is also a volunteer and wants one when its old enough… so I guess I’ll just go with the flow, keep Lily healthy and see what happens…. 

Guest Blog Post: Dad

As stated recently in my last post my dad visited me for my birthday last month.... I asked him to write a "Guest Blog Post" and well.....ENJOY!

The plan was simple enough, buy the ticket, visit my Peace Corps daughter in the shadow of the Atlas mountains in Morocco, ensure she realizes I intend to spend one night only in her house and the rest basking somewhere more regal with access to amenities such as a shower, temperature controlled environment, creatureless bed(room), beer, and food of my choice. Buying the tickets was the only part that worked as planned! Read on: Tickets were easy and connections looked very doable time-wise, so far, so good. First airline Iberia – red flag for me, I’ve never had good experiences with them and sure enough – the streak continues. The check-in lady has me place my carry-on in the little “if it fits here you can take it bin” – DAMN! It doesn’t fit – half-kiddingly I ask her if she guarantees the bag will arrive – she smirks. I’ve seen that smirk – I invented that smirk when some guy asked me “How’s it going?” when I was scooping up my dogs poop in the park – yeah, everything’s fine… “DUMBASS”.  I took note of the HUGE bags in the overhead – at least twice as big as mine – I despise you Iberia! Venice to Madrid, no problem and 5 hours to wander the cavernous Madrid airport. Connection coming from Casablanca is delayed, but still doable… …two hours later, it is delayed and is becoming less doable. Iberia “customer Service” is anything but what the title implies – they’re ill-tempered and rude – granted short- staffing doesn’t help, nor the hundreds of stranded passengers that are in line (weather problems in Europe) but not my problem – missing the connection is my problem!

Arrive in Casablanca on Royal Air Maroc at about 0950 – run through gates and make it to a cheerful service rep who informs me, “the plane just left”. She directs me to the “Customer Service” area where one poor 18-19 year old kid is asking the “manager” what to do – realize this conversation takes place in front of me – the manager never talks toward/to me – the kid is frazzled but presses on. Can they put me up for the nigh? The kids asks’ “the man” who snorts, asks the kid to get the ticket from me, takes a look and informs the kid to tell me that they won’t pay for the lodging for “this class ticket” – WTF? I’m tired and in a foreign country and need to keep my cool – trust me - that’s NOT ME! (But I’ve also seen Midnight Express - and even though that was Turkey, the feeling is the same and I don’t need that kind of exposure to the culture). “Where can I stay if I pay?” Take the blue bus for the “Atlas Hotel – it’s free!” Well, the Atlas is a dump that costs me $100 for the night. The towel is a bit larger than a face cloth – but who cares I have no luggage anyway – bring it on! Round two, I’m booked on a flight from Casablanca to Agadir, then on to Ourzazate (closest airport to Peace Corps camping adventure). All goes as advertised, until the 4 other passengers and I are at the luggage carousel and thy pick up their bags while I watch it go in circles – damn you Iberia! No matter, I see my daughter and I will be fine. I exit, and we’re good (for now). I file a claim leave a phone number and off into the Moroccan night!

My amazing daughter has picked up the language quite well (at least to me, though she is corrected a lot). Amazing considering it is a tribal language and has no real written equivalent. She negotiates the taxi, to the bus and off we go into the blackness. The bus drops us for a “local” taxi – she’s very remote, in this case the taxi is a taxi only because it has four wheels and a battered sign – I’m ambivalent but we press on. Halfway through a treacherous mountain switchback (coal black nigh) the strange noises from the back are getting stronger. We stop. The driver and his co-captain (a couple of 20-22 year olds) get out and start beating some part of the rear end of the car with a rock – life is grand and we’re going to die. Oh well, so be it. Car is fixed (good rock work guys) we get to the edge of her village and walk through the dark on a road that is probably a thousand years old – its crystal clear now and the stars are at our finger tips. I’m freezing, but so what – I’m with my daughter and we’re heading to her house. We get home and we hear the villagers out and about with a bonfire and song – not for me despite my long trek… Lilly the wonder dog is a boundless ball of energy and explodes at both of us as soon as the door opens – she has no manners, but she is a wonderful companion to my daughter and a bit of a rockstar in the surrounding villages – they all know her and it is extremely rare for a dog to be kept as a pet (she came from a stray pack that still wanders the villages). She’s broken into my daughters secret food stash and made a mess. Now, when I say food stash, I’m sure visions of cookies, candy and cakes fill your minds – wrong! We’re talking the basics here e.g. instant oatmeal and some random stuff, but in this world it’s GOLD! Lillie is lucky to be alive after that little escapade – Rockstar or not.

My daughter takes me to her host/adopted families house for tea – mind you, there was a vague possibility that I would visit and an even vaguer timeframe for that to happen and they could not have been kinder. The “tea preparation process” is a small wonder in itself and I found myself transformed and transfixed back in time as I am sure this was how it’s been done in the Berber villages forever. There is a social rank/status and the process takes it all into consideration in regarding to who is served first and how they are served.  I’m sitting on cushions, wrapped in thick blankets, in a wonderful family room that exists’ for the sole reason of social interaction e.g. drinking tea and eating – I did not understand a work that was being said and was totally at home – having said that, I understand “EASH” (spelling is questionable) but it means “EAT” – if you’re a guest, invited or not – you’re expected to eat the lions-share of the food and the family elder will prod you to “EASH”. We started with some sweets, then onto bread and oil, then a communal plate of meat, potatoes, and vegetables, followed by fruit. All food was eaten by hand using the massive loafs of locally/community baked bread – hands are washed at the table before and after the meal. Eat what is in front of you and don’t reach across anyone else’s’ “space” that’s rude (thankfully I was forgiven being the outsider, but that only lasted one day – after that I was no longer a visitor and expected to maintain proper decorum - I’m sure I embarrassed my daughter repeatedly but she never chastised me too badly-not publicly at least – a bit of role reversal there). Feeling totally bloated we waddled through the village and into my daughters house which resembled an adobe house from the American Southwest, but with VERY low doors (I have the bumps to prove it). The bathroom was a danger area for me as it was really cramped and low-ceilinged – thankfully I did not need to use it in the middle of the night as I would have knocked myself out and/or twisted my back and/or fallen down and/or all of the preceding.  Angelica has a REAL bed (alright, almost real – she has a real mattress) and she was sweet to give it up to me – although this confused Lilly to no end, too bad for her, I kicked her out!

Sound sleep and an early 0900 rising to the smell of coffee – bright sunshine and a very tolerable dare I say “nice” day – yes I dare – it was pretty nice in the sun and the walls of her courtyard.  I know we ate something, but I can’t remember what – no matter, the day held much food in our future! The coffee was great! Angelica decided to take me on her daily route, so we walked through the fields on a sunny, warm day to souk (think Wal-Mart without the wall) lots of shops spread in a small area all specializing in some type of commerce. E.g. beds, metal, butcher, corner store, etc. – one shop for each “specialty”.  The walk was about 20-30 minutes and between Lilly and Angelica, every one we met had to say hello and or stop and see the “dog” and or both. Once I was introduced I was given a warm welcome and good wishes – these are amazingly wonderful people, no pretense about them just lots of curiosity, I never felt out of place (other than my rather large frame and pale skin of course). After souk, we went to Angelica’s other host-family (they took care of her when she initially reported to this village) and again I was surrounded by “family” , stuffed to the gills with food, bonded with, good naturedly chastised for my short trip, and totally oblivious to what anyone was saying and again – totally comfortable with all of it.  Anyone who spotted us walking through the fields wanted to say hello and everyone knew Angelica and Lilly and now, they know me as well and I know them – they are “family” – that’s just the way it is here and I can live with that. My daughter is in good hands and I am thankful for that. The amazing thing to me is that, she is recognized within a 50-mile radius – what warm and caring people! Ok, so, now my village time is running out (thanks Iberia and RAM! – BTW, where is my bag?).

We must return to Ourzazate as I have an early departure the next day. We get the taxi, then the bus, and then we stay at the luxury (relative, but VERY nice) hotel. I also need to mention that Ourzazate was an amazingly clean city. We ate at a little French/Moroccan bistro, listened to a live musical entourage in the square, ate cotton-candy (well, one of us did…) and I got to spend quality time with my favorite Peace Corps volunteer (Alexa, you’re a close second…), the meal was great, the wine very nice and the time was gone in a flash. At 0dark thirty we arrived at the airport to find my bag in the “lost baggage” office – so much for the “We’ll call you” – nobody knew when it arrived. So I dug out gifts from her mom, some treasures from me (Peanut Butter and Ping-Pong balls) and was on my way back – this time being allowed to hand-carry my bag – I barely make it home as fog has obliterated the landscape and I can’t even see the road signs (I miss my turn off twice). Finally at home, greeted by Luna (the cat) I can’t help but feel I was short-changed and must return – I had a great time. Blessings upon your parents. Hopefully I return again soon – In challah!