tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68132389730457368492024-03-14T04:28:32.250-07:00Adventures in OzThese are my adventures as a Peace Corps volunteer. I've been assigned to the Community Health in Rural Morocco Program. I hope to share my stories of triumph, tears, excitement and everything in between with every single one of you.... so read and enjoy!Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-51975368618482363322012-05-07T01:26:00.001-07:002012-05-07T01:27:23.551-07:00Give me your ___ (insert furniture/candy/pen/clothes item here)<br />
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As I write this blog post I am sitting at the airport in
Germany- going back to America. My two
years have come and gone. Now it’s time
to go home. But really- where is home? I just spent 2 years in Morocco- I had a
house, dog, friends and family in Morocco.
In America have friends, family and a doggie in route, but no house
(yet). But I don’t know if it’s going to
feel like home for a while- which is weird because this last month I’ve been
dreaming about going back to America. I
guess I’m just in some sort of limbo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To be honest, the last month I spent in site SUCKED. It’s such a shame, because I loved the people
in my site and I loved my site but I was still an outsider. An outsider that had a lot of furniture the
community knew I needed to get rid of.
So that last month meant I couldn’t sit inside or go outside my house
without someone coming over to ask for something- a bed, my fridge, clothes,
pens, candy-you name it. I ended up
selling half my things to my landlords family and selling the other half to
Jamilas. Obviously, this was fine with
the two of them, but everyone else wanted to know why they weren’t getting
anything. That got old fast- trust
me. And it really doesn't help people don't ASK for things in Morocco- their way of asking literally translates to: Give me ____. And every time I would translate that in my bed I cringe. Whatever though- I’m not going to
let that last annoying month ruin my memories of my two years of service.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said most of my goodbyes last week, before I went to Rabat
to check out. There were a lot of tears
and reminiscing. Everyone agreed the 2
years went by very fast and we had some good laughs about how terrible my
language was at the beginning. A lot of
people in America have asked me how I feel about leaving- I’ve thought about it
a lot but it’s still such a hard question to answer. So forgive my future random ramblings while I
try to put it into words.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One of the hardest things for me
is that I know I’ll be moving onto new and bigger things. I’m so blessed that I have a job, friends and
family in Colorado. I have a future
ahead of me and lots of other adventures- inchallah. But these families I just spent 2 years with don’t. They will be talking about the crazy
foreigner with a dog for years to come.
And when I make it back in a few years most of those people will still
be there, doing the same ol’ thing. I’ve
told a lot of people that I’m ready for the next chapter in my life- and I
am. But I just wish the people in my
community had another chapter to look forward to, also. </div>
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This experience has been everything
I could have ever wished for and more- so I see it only fitting my wrap up get
a few blog entrees. Next time: What
Morocco/PC taught me. Oh man, that one should
be good.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-87938906342493852832012-04-02T11:27:00.000-07:002012-04-02T11:27:20.008-07:00It's hard to be rude in Morocco!!<br />
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I've now been in Morocco for over 2 years. I can barely believe it. Over these last two years there have
obviously been a lot of awkward situations.
I’ve learned more than I could even possibly express in this blog but
one of my favorite things about living and working in a new country/culture has
been all the unique situations I’ve been put it. <b>In
this blog I want to write about the different situations that in America would
be incredibly rude, but here in Morocco- not so much.</b> However, after 2 years I often find myself
doing these things without even thinking twice.
Enjoy the crazy stories that have been my last two years!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Burping loudly (in public or after a meal).</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This is actually a compliment to the person
who just prepared the meal.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And people
do it- often.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A simple ‘l-hmdullah’ (thanks
to god) after a good long, loud burp is all that’s needed. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Asking someone how much they paid for something
(and then telling them they paid too much).</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Volunteers experience this A LOT in the beginning.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">People want to know how much I paid for my
fridge, bed, pants, anything.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s such
an awkward question because you know you’re probably going to get yelled at for
paying too much. I usually lie and say the item was a gift, my organization
(Peace Corps) paid for it or I forgot how much I paid.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">That seems to work- most of the time.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Inviting a person to a meeting, your home,
friend’s home and then leaving them alone in a room for hours.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This happens ALL THE TIME.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">In the beginning I hated it but now I carry a
book around with me all the time and usually take this time to nap.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Telling a person they don’t know anything.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">“Or tsnt waloo”</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I wrote a whole blog about this one a while
back.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s usually in regards to
language.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Now I just agree, because
let’s be honest- Tashlheet is hard.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And
I don’t know anything.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This usually
makes them feel pretty awkward and they take it back.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Showing up minutes, hours or days late for a
meeting (if they even show up at all).</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Again, drove me crazy when I first got here, but now I don’t even leave
my house until the time we’re supposed to meet and it takes me about 20 minutes
to walk to souk.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s been a nice
leisurely two years, but I’m ready to get back to my schedule and getting work
done when it’s supposed to be done.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Breastfeeding in a taxi, van or just in public.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">In a country where I can’t show my knees or
wear tank tops this one was pretty weird to get used to.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Honestly, it’s still </span><s style="text-indent: -0.25in;">weird</s><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
different.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Asking someone how much money they make, how
much they pay for rent, pretty much anything about money is a-ok.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Greeting someone and then immediately asking if
they are married.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If not married (me),
asking why.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Then mentioning that you
have a family member, friend or offering yourself for marriage.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This happens AT LEAST a few times a day.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sometimes I like to bargain for my hand in
marriage (how many camels, will you cook for me, will you clean the
house…)</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Depending on the person this
could be fun or really creepy- gotta feel it out first.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s also not uncommon for people to ask me to
help them get a visa, passport, etc to bring them back to America with me.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This is when I tell them they can come back
to America with me as long as they fit in the crate with Lily.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Eating with your hands.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Your right one, specifically.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This one I’m totally used to and actually
don’t mind.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Meals are always community
style so you eat only the triangle space of food directly in front of you.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">First everyone eats the juices and
vegetables, then the meat last.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The meat
is usually divided by the female head of the house and your section of meat is
placed on a piece of bread in front of you.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And it’s ok to loudly chew or suck on the bones.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Yum.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Also with regards to eating its expected to put
the pits of olives, bones you don’t eat or skin of fruits on the table.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Not on a plate on the table, directly on the table.
For someone else to clean up.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Not covering your mouth when you cough.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This one still gets to me and I’m usually the
first to yell at someone to cover their mouths.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">This often turns into a mini health lesson about germs and how I don’t
want to get sick.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">They all think I’m
crazy for constantly talking about germs (before we eat, when they cough or
sneeze….. I’ve got pretty good at turning almost any situation into a mini
health lesson)</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Yelling at someone (in public) for not eating or
sleeping at their home.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I eat at
people’s homes quite often, but sometimes I just want to eat at my house.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s actually rude to say ‘no’ when someone
invites you over for tea or a meal but its ok to say “inchallah” (god willing)
or “adoor ayadni” (another time).</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">These
are just polite nos.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">But sometimes
people want me to eat at their homes which are kilometers away.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And unless I really like you or I’m in the
area that’s not gonna happen.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">So people
yell at me: in public and loudly.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Also,
after I eat meals (usually dinner) at friends’ homes, they always want me to
spend the night.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">ALWAYS.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Even when they are my neighbors.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">They just can’t understand why I would
possibly want to go to my own house, wear my own pjs and sleep in my own
bed.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Weird, right? </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Knocking on someone’s door and then asking them
to give you water.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Even if you live
right next door.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">THIS ONE STILL DRIVES
ME CRAZY.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The kids do it all the time,
passing women do it all the time.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s
fine if you’re coming back from the fields and still have a long walk ahead of
you.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I have no problem with that.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">However, when I can SEE your house and I KNOW
you have water- absolutely not.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If I
know you live in the village I’ll tell you to go home and get water at your own
house (which is probably rude, but oh well.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I have to have some boundaries, right?)</span></li>
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As these 2 years have come to a close I’ve started to notice
a lot of the small things that make Morocco and America so different. I hope you enjoyed this silly list- it was
fun writing it and thinking about all the craziness that I’ve encountered over
the last two years.<o:p></o:p></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-63979514614939400132012-02-10T04:21:00.000-08:002012-02-10T04:21:27.250-08:00Quick Update<br />
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Why hello dear friends and family of mine. It’s been a while since I’ve updated here- so
I just wanted to let you all know I’m alive and well. The last few months have gone by quickly and
have been pretty busy! December was a
quick month since I went on vacation to visit my fabulous dad and step-mom for
the Christmas holiday. Being in a Muslim
country there is NO Christmas spirit and I was a bit overwhelmed at the
Frankfurt airport with all the lights and trees (alright, I admit it- I almost
cried) and then getting to be in a warm house, with a tree, my Italian pets, a
super amazing, warm, soft bed and Christmas cookies was amazing. After a fabulous week and a half of luxury I
went to visit some friends in Spain. I
knew I wanted to go when I heard my old college roomie Colby and his girlfriend
Tara would be visiting but decided it would be fun to make it a surprise. So I filled my friend Karin in on my travel
plans and surprised both Colby and Logan in Barcelona. Another volunteer friend of mine, Jackie,
decided she wanted to spend the New Year with us and we had a blast in Barcelona. The trip was WAY too short but it was so fun
to be around friends from home. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the last few months I’ve just been working with an
association in another village trying to finalize a grant for a grain storage
renovation. We finally got the money and
all the supplies have been purchased but it’s been too cold and windy to
work. They keep telling me it will only
take a month once they start building but it still makes me nervous since my
time here is running out. So keep your
fingers crossed that it warms up soon and we can get started on that!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I also got terribly sick last month- thank you parasite that
I’ve been living with for the last year but decided to act up now. After almost 9 days of being locked in my
house (aka mud prison), sending multiple children to buy me medicine, amazing
taxi drivers dropping off medicine from the big city and awesome site mates I’m
finally better and have been out and about in the village. It’s so funny how word spreads in the
community- everyone knew I was sick and was worried about me. I’m so lucky to have such awesome people
around me. Everyone wanted to help the
foreigner who lives alone- Jamilas family brought me fresh baked bread every
day, Nzhas family brought me fruit and veggies and everyone sent their god
phrases my way.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve also FINALLY got Lily spayed, vaccinated and purchased
her crate for our trip home. The whole
spaying experience was a bit traumatizing, since I ended up having to leave her
for about a week and a half to ensure she was ok after the surgery and the
stiches could be taken out. But she’s
once again home and back to her happy self.
Since she’s spayed we’ve also been on a few walks and the kids are so
happy to see her again (She wasn’t allowed outside until she got spayed because
of all the stray dogs outside.) It’s amazing how the little children aren’t afraid
of her, will go up and hug her, let her lick them and the parents won’t go near
her because they are too scared.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was a bit in a ‘want to go home-funk’ after my Italy/Spain
vacation- ready to go home and tired of dealing with the everyday stresses that
our lives here entail. But I’ve recently
realized I have less than 3 months left and I’m really going to miss these
people. So now I’m just trying to enjoy every
day with these amazing people and beautiful place that I am lucky enough to
call home.<o:p></o:p></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-20879464492411732622011-12-03T03:49:00.001-08:002011-12-03T03:52:58.319-08:00Success and Failure in Rural Morocco<br />
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My Peace Corps service has been filled with<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> ups and
downs</span></b>. When we first get to country we
get lots of papers about our emotional health, physical health, work,
resources, yada yada. But my favorite
piece of paper is a roller coaster looking chart that explains our emotional wellbeing
during these 2 years. Everyone laughs at
this paper when we first get it, but after about 6 months we realize it’s
pretty much spot on. Good days, bad
days, happy days, sad days, depressed weeks, skipping through the field’s
days…. I can literally experience every emotion I could think of in one
day. Go from dreading leaving my house
to go buy milk, to laughing with people in souk, to wanting to punch a child in
the face outside my house, to being super happy talking to a friend on the
phone to crying during the Justin Beiber movie (yes- this last one
happened.) On top of the everyday
stresses with language, being cold/hot, trying to understand what’s going on
around me, etc. it’s easy to understand why this roller coaster could
occur. Then you throw work on top of
that- that’s the cherry on top of it all.
Work here can be crazy, last minute, unorganized and everything in
between… but it’s why I’m here. So I
wanted to share a recent success and recent failure with you… just so you could
get a taste :)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Let’s start with the<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> failure</span></b> and just get it out of the
way. In June I was asked by my sbitar
(local clinic) to represent the clinic at a meeting in Ouarzazate at the
delegue (pretty much my Moroccan boss).
I had no idea why I was going- I just knew I was going to a meeting and
I needed to find a lady from a French Association (didn’t even know her
name.) So I show up, am directed every
which way in the building and finally find this lady, her translator, the
delegue, my commune leader and another man from a village nearby. The whole meeting is done in French/Arabic so
you can imagine I’m a bit/a lot lost. I
learn that the French Association wants to bring doctors to my village for free
exams in October. Great news,
right? <i>Fast forward to September.</i>
I’m summoned to another meeting, this time invited by a man from my
village. We discuss the upcoming visit
and hit a major road block. The
Association wants to come November 8<sup>th</sup>. But that’s L3id (the big holiday in my last
post) so the arguing back and forth begins.
The French Association wins and they plan to come from the 5<sup>th</sup>,
6<sup>th</sup>, 7<sup>th</sup>, break for l3id, 9<sup>th</sup>, 10<sup>th</sup>
. Great, right? Everyone agrees this will work, myself and
the other volunteers in the region will help with translation and it all sounds
like peachy dandy…. <i>Now fast forward to
November</i>. About a week before l3id I
go to the sbitar to make sure this is all still happening and am told that the
Association was told not to even come because certain people in my community
didn’t want to work so close to l3id.
I’m (of course) super angry about this and trying to figure out whats
going on. What could we do, could we
still get the people to come, who made this decision… this is all running
through my head in English while I’m trying to ask the questions in Tash. And let me tell you, when I get overly
excited, sad, tired, hungry or angry my language just *poof* disappears!! Finally, I talk to some men that are pretty
high up on the ‘power’ totem and they promise to make some phone calls and see
what they can do. I finally hear back
the day before l3id…. And am told the Association isn’t come. Sucks, right? Want to know what sucks even more?? I heard TWO WEEKS LATER that the doctors
came. There was no one there for the
free exams because no one was told about it and even if people would have shown
up they would have had no one to translate.
So that just goes to show what months of planning and meeting can
accomplish- right? <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strike>FAIL.</strike></span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, lets <i>rewind to Halloween.</i> I’m in Ouarzazate to use internet,
get money and attempt to get my permission from the ministry to be able to
teach in the schools for the new school year.
I’d been in to get this form once before but was told to return, so I
was hoping this would be a quick trip.
Yeah, right. The man in charge
needed a form from Peace Corps so I called Peace Corps. After they talk in Arabic for a while I’m
handed the phone back and asked by my Peace Corps boss if I’ll be helping with
the health day this week. I had no idea
what he was talking about so he filled me in.
The ministry of Education was hosting a ‘health day’ in my site and
wanted me help. So I hang up and being
asking questions about this (in Tash). The
man knows close to nothing and asking these questions is like pulling
teeth. After about 2 hours of exhausting
language I’m told they want me and the other 3 volunteers in my area to help
with the event. There will be tooth
brushing lessons (that we’ll do), eye exams (we’ll help with) and woman’s
health information (that we’ll do too).
Keep in mind this is Monday that I’m in the office trying to get these
forms and the event is on Wednesday. So
basically I had to organize the other 3 volunteers and myself to get this
together, not really knowing what the heck we were signed up from. Would be have our own classrooms, were we
doing small groups, would we be working together or separate, would we have help? No idea.
So- we show up having ZERO expectations and find all the important
people from the ministry’s in Ouarzazazte, all the village leaders and school
principals there. Luckily, everything
went as best as it could have. We
successfully taught over 200 children about brushing their teeth, about 25
women about some basic health and helped those 200 kids get their eyes
checked. And it all came together in a
few days! I’d say that’s a <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">success</span></b>!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-61180560654125644852011-11-06T04:09:00.000-08:002011-11-06T04:10:46.538-08:00Eid Mubarak!!<br />
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Tomorrow is Eid al-Adha<b>, </b></span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-language: AR;">الأضحى</span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><span style="float: none;"></span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">, Feast of
Sacrifice, L3id Nufeska… any and all of the previous! </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">This will be my second L3id here in Morocco
and I couldn’t be more excited. Some
volunteers stock up and hide in their homes for the holiday, others try to
travel to avoid the day but I have been counting down the days for about a
month now (which isn’t easy since it’s a lunar holiday and I thought it was
going to be on the 8<sup>th</sup> until about a week ago!). Last year the idea of L3id was a bit
overwhelming since I had no idea what to expect, but this year I’m ready! <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">So—what is
L3id, you ask? (Wow- who knew my blog
would be so informative?) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Eid al-Adha is celebrated annually on
the 10th day of the 12th and the last Islamic month of</span></span> <span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Dhu al-Hijjah<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">(</span></span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-language: AR;"><span xml:lang="ar">ذو</span><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-language: AR; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">الحجة</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><span style="float: none;">) of the lunar</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> </span></span></span><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Islamic calendar<span class="apple-style-span">.</span></span><sup id="cite_ref-3"> </sup><span class="apple-style-span"> Eid al-Adha celebrations start after the
</span>Hajj (Hajj= <span class="apple-style-span">the
annual pilgrimage to</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Mecca<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">in</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Saudi
Arabia<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">by Muslims worldwide) The date is approximately 70 days (2 Months
& 10 days) after the end of the </span>month of Ramadan.</i><span class="apple-style-span"><i> </i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_al-Adha">Wikipedia L3id Info</a></span></blockquote>
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<i><span class="apple-style-span">“Ibrahim, known as Abraham
in the Christian and Jewish traditions, was commanded by God to sacrifice his
adult son. He obeyed and took Ishmael (Ismail or Ismael) to Mount Moriah. Just
as he was to sacrifice his son, an angel stopped him and gave him a ram to
sacrifice in place of his son. Some people dispute that the son of sacrifice
was Isaac (Isḥāq). Regardless, these events are remembered and celebrated at
Eid al-Adha. A</span>t Eid al-Adha, many Muslims make a special effort to pray and
listen to a sermon at a mosque. They also wear new clothes, visit family
members and friends and may symbolically sacrifice an animal in an act known as<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">qurbani</span>.
This represents the animal that Ibrahim sacrificed in the place of his son. In
some traditionally Muslim countries (Like Morocco) families or groups of
families may purchase an animal known as<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">udhiya</span>, usually a goat or sheep, to
sacrifice"</i> <a href="http://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/muslim/eid-al-adha">L3id Information</a></blockquote>
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Go to those links for more information… its really interesting
stuff and I was tempted to just copy and paste the whole thing, but thought I’d
lose some people. (Which might have
happened anyway- but oh well!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here in Morocco families purchase a ram to sacrifice to symbolize
these events. It’s a huge holiday (Think
Christmas almost everywhere else in the world). Schools and all official
buildings close for the week and family members all travel home to spend the
holiday together. All the kids get new
clothes to wear for the holiday and the meat from the animal is eaten
throughout the week- every single part!
I asked my friends what their favorite parts of the Ram were yesterday
and their answers were the liver (Agree- DELISH!) the eyes and the head. Families that can afford it usually have
multiple rams (my host family had 2 last year).
<o:p></o:p></div>
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….And tomorrows the day!! I’ve
promised my friend Jamila that I’d spend the slaughter (usually at about 930
am- after the king kills his ram) with her family. I took lots of pictures last year, but I want
to get a video of the event this year so look for that (if you’ve got the stomach
for it!). I’m going to make some
chocolate no-bake cookies-they’re a hit here since they are so sweet- to bring
over too. After Jamila’s I have 2 other
families I promised I’d go see and walking between houses usually means having
to stop, have tea, and make kababs (my favorite part of l3id) at various others
homes. So- needless to say, tomorrow
will be a long, exciting and VERY full of meat day :)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eid Mubarak!</span></span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-12031207025106674322011-10-26T05:07:00.000-07:002011-10-26T05:08:47.941-07:00Telling time in Morocco<br />
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I have now been here in Morocco for 18 months, with only
7ish left.<span> </span>When I think about it like
that I can’t believe it… the time has flown by.<span>
</span>But then when I sit down and actually think about all the things that
have happened over these 18 months… I feel like I’ve been here forever.<span> </span>This is home. People here always ask if I’m
tmirt (settled).<span> </span>My new joke (jokes here
are typically pretty lame… think grandpa jokes that everyone laughs at but no
one thinks is funny) is that yes, I’m mir<span>ġ</span>. I’m half Moroccan and half
American- this is half of my home!<span>
</span>People love it, but it’s kinda true.<span>
</span>These people have welcomed me into their homes, their country and
treated me like one of their own.<span> </span>And I’m
so blessed to be able to have this experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Over the last 18 months I’ve realized there are many ways to
tell time… for example, I can tell the time in weeks by the amount of henna
that has grown out of my nails, I can usually tell the approximate time of day
by the amount of sunlight out or the call to prayers, I can tell what month it
is based on the crops growing in the fields, I can tell the day of the week
based on the freshness of fruits/veggies at my vegetable guys store, or if its
Sunday because its Souk, I can tell if it’s a week day (usually if there are no
strikes) by seeing if the kids are playing outside my house or not…. I feel
like we have these clues to the time of day, day of the week and month in
America but do we ever stop to notice them?<span>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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I often tell people at home that I feel like I’ve learned
more from my experience here or from my community than I ever think I could
hope to teach them (cliché but true).<span>
</span>One of the biggest things this country has taught me is patience and to
stop and enjoy life.<span> </span>I remember having
my schedule down to pretty much every minute of the day in America… and here if
I have one small task to do in the day it’s gonna be a good day.<span> </span>I have the time to stop and have tea with
women in the fields, its ok to have tea and basic conversation with the men I’m
meeting with for a project before we even speak a word of work, it’s not
uncommon for me to go to Souk to buy just milk and end up spending hours talking
to all the store owners along the way (and forget to buy the milk), waiting for
a taxi or bus for hours is just how it is, or having a counterpart show up an
hour late for a meeting is just… that.<span>
</span>When I first got here to Morocco things like this drove me crazy, I was
in my America-get work done- mindset.<span>
</span>And I’m not going to lie, sometimes I fall back into that and get a bit
stir crazy waiting over an hour for people to show up and a taxi to leave, but
Morocco has taught me to appreciate the moment.<span>
</span>Like a good friend of mine once told me <b>“I know it’s hard but really just try to enjoy your time there because
it will be over. And then it’s over.<span>
</span>Your home will always be here.”</b><span>
</span>I don’t know if she knows how much that meant to me, but that quote has
been with me since the day she sent it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Also in relation to time, I feel like in the beginning
months here in Morocco I sort of ‘wished my time away.’<span> </span>It’s not that I wasn’t loving my time here,
but it’s hard sometimes- I miss America, my friends, family, the food, my
independence and freedom to do or say whatever I wanted.<span> </span>I still have moments like this- I don’t think
I’ve ever been such rollercoaster of emotions as I am here.<span> </span>I will literally have to force myself to
leave the house one day, dread speaking to people along the way and then somewhere
in the walk a flip switches and I end up wanting to talk to anyone and everyone
along the way- about the weather, about Lily, about life… and end up spending
hours in Souk talking to men and walk home on clouds mystified that I live
HERE- with the beautiful mountains in the background, walking through postcard
like fields and rivers to get home to my crazy dog barking on the roof of my
mud house.<span> </span>Now I have less than 7 months
left and I’m grasping at time for dear life.<span>
</span>Don’t get me wrong- I’m excited at the idea of going back to America but
this whole experience- all the amazing people I’ve met along the way, all the
work I’ve had the privilege of doing… the thought of leaving that really does
make me sad.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well dear readers of mine- my tummy just growled (another
way to tell the time) so lunch must be made.<span>
</span>Until next time….<o:p></o:p></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-65427913505223806672011-10-13T14:37:00.000-07:002011-10-13T14:41:21.177-07:00Just another day...<br />
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First of all--<b> I survived my second Ramadan!</b><span> </span>It’s now been over a month since it ended
and boy am I glad it’s over.<span> </span>It was a
great experience fasting with my community though- I got very mixed responses
from people when I told them I was fasting.<span>
</span>Some people were excited and gave me praise, told me to sit and rest or
invited me to breakfast with their families, others called me a liar and made
me prove to them I was fasting (which was ok sometimes, but when I was extra
hungry/thirsty this response didn’t put me in a good mood) and others thought I
was crazy for fasting when I didn’t have to.<span>
</span>I ended up breaking my fast a few days early, since I had a friend come
to visit and since he wasn’t fasting I didn’t want to continue.<span> </span>But I successfully fasted for 23 days!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lots has been going on here work-wise.<span> </span>Its weird going from almost a year of begging
people for work to not being able to go to Souk without being bothered for a
new project or idea.<span> </span>The desk project is
ALMOST complete—yes, I know… I’ve been saying this for a WHILE.<span> </span>But that’s just how things goes around
here.<span> </span>The blackboards are the last items
that need to be delivered and I’ve been bothering the carpenter about them for
weeks but INCHALLAH that will get done this week.<span> </span>(IT DID!<span>
</span>I finally got the last receipts and its all DONEEEEE!)<span> </span>The project for the Sanitation System is
coming along slowly… all the supplies were purchased over Ramadan and digging
for the pipes and pits has begun.<span> </span>I hope
to make it to the village soon to check in on things.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have two new sitemates!<span>
</span>Long story here that I won’t get into, but it’s great for the community
since we will be the last volunteers in the area.<span> </span>So there are now 4 Americans roaming the dirt
roads of Tidili- haha!<span> </span>Team
Tidili!!!<span> </span>Here is a story about
house-hunting for my new site mates…. Think about this next time you go on
Craigslist or to a relator for a new place to rent :) <o:p></o:p></div>
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So we (myself, Alexa and Leighanne) heard there was a house
available in a village about 8 K down the road and wanted to go check it
out.<span> </span>We were told to go to Souk (the
main center) at 4 oclock and assumed this meant that we would be getting a
ride. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li>4:00 pm- SO we show up, talk talk talk, learn about another
project that the people in the community, drink a little tea, yada yada.</li>
<li>5:00 pm- We are finally are shown to a transit with about 10
others. This must be the worlds S-L-O-W-E-S-T transit.<span> </span>A ride that should have taken us about 15
minutes probably took about 40. Along the way the driver is pointing out all
the towns along the way… beautiful ride up though!</li>
<li>6:00 pm- We are dropped off at a café and ask if this is the
village with the house to rent.<span> </span>We’re
told its not and that we have to walk through another village to get to it-no
biggie, right?<span> </span>An older man offers to walk
us to the village but then hands us off to a kid about 5 minutes into the
walk.<span> </span>The teenager is then instructed to
bring us to the house that’s for rent.</li>
<li>6:30 pm-<span> </span>After climbing
through a village we arrive, tired, to discover the man who is supposed to show
us the house isn’t around.<span> </span>We are
directed to the teenagers house instead.</li>
<li>7:00 pm- We decide we cant wait any longer, its getting dark
and we need to get back.<span> </span>So we start
walking- very quickly- to the main road to try and stop some sort of transit to
take us home.<span> </span>Along the way, though,
everyone keeps inviting us in for tea or to stay the night.<span> </span>We try to explain we need to get home but
everyone tells us we’ll never find transport so we should just stay.<span> </span>We don’t want to… so we keep on keepin on.</li>
<li>7:30 pm- We reach the road and start waving down anything
and everything that passes.<span> </span>It’s
starting to get really cold by now, and we’re starting to get really worried…
finally we hail down a truck and get thrown in with about 15 other men
(literally, most of them were hanging off the truck, but since we were ladies
we were able to sit in the bed).<span> </span>Oh
yeah, and there are a few cows in the truck too…. I wish I took at a picture,
but it didn’t seem appropriate at the time.<span>
</span>During the car ride every single man asks me to marry him, and one of
the guys even gives me an extra jacket he has to keep me warm. (I got to keep
the jacket, so at least I got something outta it all!) I talk to the guys the
whole 20 minutes ride home- quite an interesting conversation…. We discussed
how (in my perspective) men in Morocco don’t have it as tough as the ladies,
how far/big America is, how a lot of people in America go to college (even
girls, like me!) but not many from my area will…. You get the jest.<span> </span></li>
<li>8:00 pm- The truck finally arrives at a village about a
kilometer from my house so after arguing about a price, we get out and start
walking home with our phone flashlights to my house.<span> </span></li>
<li>8:20 pm- We finally get home, laughing about the day.<span> </span>Alexa and Leighanne then decide to start
making something for dinner.<span> </span>I have most
of my food stashed in a bamboo dresser to keep the mice out, but recently they
had got tricky so I had the dresser closed with rope to keep the creatures out…..
but just as Leighanne opens the dresser a mouse LEAPS out at her.<span> </span>I hear screaming in the kitchen to find them
both in the corner- the mice have chewed through the BACK of the dresser.<span> </span>Everything is now is thick plastic bins
around my kitchen……..</li>
</ul>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">….. Welcome to my life :) </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-61055398034427049582011-09-15T05:29:00.000-07:002011-09-15T05:29:38.151-07:00Videos from Country Part IYes, i'm alive after Ramadan! Its on my to-do list to write a little more about my overall experience with fasting and such but for now I'm in the city so I wanted to post some videos I've taken while being here. Below are some videos i've had for a while.... Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Snow Days</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxyH6WpauvG4dimI0i9vGy_hypNeerf6ZBlH3o0zTNvIhS6Uti_Qi2BK1Wwf5IRfPNhb0zxbHngmyh39sAtiw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a video I took up on my roof in March. I'm on the phone with a friend (hence the "hang ons" in my part) because i wasn't sure how my community would feel about me filming them on their roofs. The houses here are made of mud so when it snows a lot everyone has to go on their roofs to shovel the snow off (otherwise the snow melts into water and the houses start to leak or fall apart.) I just did a big circle with the camera so you could get a sense so everyone on their roofs and all the snow thats fallen onto mine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Spring Camp Dancing</span></b><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxPqDFD9krumGbHRVkHWNjXIz9_FPICDu6l3yQGAE6Q43hQuhvKi6ZhZ7lyXScyOPJxj_lIrDeDaczhNfG8fA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;">This video is from Spring Camp. Spring Camp is an camp that youth development volunteers organize and help facilitate every year. All PCVs are asked to help teach English and work with the kids. In April I went with 5 other volunteers to help out. There was a lot of dancing like this that occurred between events and every evening. One thing we get pretty comfortable with here as volunteers is making fools of ourselves. This is just one example with all the dancing/clapping/smiling.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Morocco's Own MJ</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyLYKDflwzIxAyAaMuLy8Xszic2knVy-eRlWFPW9kZBAoGZjQyfqXorF7HVfUvXpBXUGD59DlcsTHhIVxknCg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;">This video was from one of two talent shows we had. This kid was a gooood dancer. Other kids did dance acts, sang (acapella!! These kids had no fear!), did comedy kits, told jokes and lots of other stuff. It was fun to watch the kids performing for each other. If a talent show like this was happening in America I think people would be bullying each other, making fun of each others or too afraid to do the acts they did in front of their peers. I was sooo impressed with these kids confidence! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>....to be continued in the next blog post!</b></span></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-58446760154618167722011-08-11T17:57:00.000-07:002011-08-11T17:57:19.780-07:0010 days and counting... <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today is August 11<sup>th</sup>, which means my 10<sup>th</sup> day of fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No water or food from sunup (about 330am) until sundown (about 730pm).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It also means 10 days of lfdur (break-fast) with various families in my community… Its been really interesting to see peoples reactions when I tell them I’m fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tonight I thought I’d write up some of the various… situations that fasting has resulted in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Read and enjoy (and comment!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tonight I was chatting with Caity on the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shes also fasting, so we have phone dates at night after breakfast to help each other stay awake and also just to catch up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were talking about how on the first day of fast we both had a moment where we asked ourselves <i>if we could brush our teeth.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I seriously sat in front of the mirror for about 10 minutes wondering if I was technically ‘allowed’ to do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I’m not eating the toothpase, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what if a little accidently goes down my throat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then am I not technically fasting?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it quite interesting that both of us thought twice about brushing even though neither of us are fasting for religious reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that’s just what happens when you’ve been in country for 16 months. </span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: right;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Can you brush your teeth during the fasting hours of ramadan?</i></span></b></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Answer: yes because tooth paste is not something you consume (fasting or not you spit it out). Of course you should be careful with the water and make sure you don't swallow any. But if you do swallow by accident then it does not break your fast. Allah swt says : And there is no sin for you in the mistakes that ye make unintentionally.) (Al-Ahzab 33: 5)The Prophet saws also said : "My nation shall not be held accountable for the mistakes they do unintentionally, out of forgetfulness, and under duress." (Reported by Ibn Majah) And Allah swt knows best</i></span></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My second major fasting dilemma was if I <i>should take my inhailer</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, technically I’m not supposed to eat anything, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So should I be breathing things in either?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end I decided I’d just do it…. I guess I’d rather ‘breakfast’ and be able to breathe than risk an asthma attack in the mountains of Morocco.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><b>If I have asthma, can I still use my puffer when I’m fasting?</b> </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Yes, you can still use your puffer during Ramadan without breaking your fast. This is because it is simply compressed air that you are inhaling into your lungs.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On my first day of fasting I decided (like the rest of my village) to take it easy and hang out in my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Us PCVs spend a lot of time sharing and watching variously downloaded tv shows and movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my new favorites has become Parenthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I sit down, with my fan blowing on me to settle in and watch a few episodes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its only about 12 by now, so I have about 7 more hours ahead of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, well… guess what episode I’m on?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right… the <i>Thanksgiving</i> one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being here in Morocco any show about or featuring food is hard to watch, since cravings for things such as bacon, cheese, alcohol and other delicious foods we take for granted in America are quite common.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But sitting through that episode, without my morning cup of coffee and knowing I wouldn’t be able to each for another 7 hours-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>well, that, my friends, was rough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Many people in my community ask if I’m fasting, since its very public knowledge that I didn’t last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my favorite, and perhaps most hilarious moments thus far has been when an old man in my Souk asked if I was fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him yes, and then he called me a liar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few rounds of “no, I’m not lying” he pointed out that I was <i>wearing chapstick</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, yes, I am- of course. Its hot outside, I’m thirsty and I always wear chapstick, I explained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Side note, I had no idea what the word for chapstick might be so I kept calling it medicine for lips).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So while I’m trying to defend myself to this man about my medicine for lips he continues to call me a liar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally after about 10 minutes of me<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>explaining I don’t in-fact eat the stuff, I give up and tell him fine- I’m not fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kindly smiled and me and said goodbye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You win that round, old man.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><b>Can I wear lip gloss in Ramadan?</b></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><b> </b>Yes, you can wear lip gloss to moisten your lips when you are fasting, as long as you do not swallow it. </i><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Lots of other things have happened in the last 10 days including getting a free half kilo of bananas from my vegetable guy because he was so happy I was fasting, almost passing out because of standing up too fast, lots of hours of saying “yes, Ramadan is hard” to various friends and explaing to people that just because I’m fasting I’m not becoming a Muslim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overall, its been a tough but interesting experience…. Lets see what the next 19-20 days have in store!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ps. While looking up the few questions I had I found this interesting website that had a lot of answers to the questions I had about Ramadan…. <a href="http://www.ramadan.com.au/faq">Check it out</a> if you're interested!</span></span><!--EndFragment--> Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-21612210538431452962011-08-04T07:35:00.007-07:002011-08-04T07:35:49.459-07:00Adventures in Fasting... Happy Ramadan!<div class="MsoNormal">So this is my second of <i>everything in country.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just celebrated my <i>second </i>4<sup>th</sup> of July, about to celebrate my <i>second </i>Thanksgiving and this is my <i>second </i>Ramadan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (Go <a href="http://angelicapc.blogspot.com/2010/08/ramadan-karim.html">HERE</a> to c</span>heck out my blog from last year to learn more about Ramadan).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t fast last year, since I did a bit of traveling in Spain and just honestly didn’t want to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I decided I wanted to try and fast this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does that mean you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That means no food or water during sunlight hours which is from the first call to prayer at 3am until the 4<sup>th</sup> call to prayer at about 730pm—yes, 16 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this Ramadan is in August, with the longest and hottest days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great time to give it a go, huh?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m now on <b>day 3</b> of fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t so much worried about not eating during the day, I could survive being hungry a few hours but the water was the part I was most worried about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now that I’ve actually been fasting I think both suck- equally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><blockquote><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #f2ae00; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fasting is intended to educate the Muslim in spirituality, humility and patience. It is a time to cleanse the soul, focus attention on God, and put into practice selflessness.” http://www.whatisramadan.com</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Its only been 3 days now but I think it will be good for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The hardest part so far has been how <strike>lethargic</strike> I feel during the day after about 4 (when I’m reaaaally hungry and thirsty) and also after breaking fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first night I went to my landlords and yesterday I went to my friends house to break fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its fun being with others who are equally as hungry and thirsty as me but the food they eat has a LOT of sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean its great, don’t get me wrong, but after being hungry all day I’ve been craving some strange things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what I’ve been doing is breaking fast with families (eating the askeef (white creamy soup), bread, dates, figs and tea) and then going home and preparing a real dinner of some sort (lots of chicken, yummy!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Language is also very hard when I’m hungry or tired so it’s been interesting attempting conversations right before break fast.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Today will be my first day of walking to souk (assuming this rain slows down) so we’ll see how I do with that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its about a 20-30 minute walk each way and I have to talk to some people about work so this will be my first of many challenges this Ramadan since the last few days have been spent in my house or in my dowar trying to adjust my body to no food or water. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ll try to post another update soon about fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i><b>Ramadan Kareem everyone!</b></i></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-26178566054918153572011-07-26T10:10:00.001-07:002011-07-26T10:10:16.878-07:0015-ish kilometers for a couple pics? Okkkkkkk<div class="MsoNormal">I’ve been trying to get pictures of my completed SPA project for the last few weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I needed were some pictures of the preschool with the new desks in them… not too big of a deal, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In America I’d just drive to the place, take the pictures and done… but this is Morocco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Morocco sometimes (or most of the time) things take a lot longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So here is my story of how I FINALLY got those three pictures.</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"> <div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">I talked to some people in Souk about transport to Tachdirt (the village with the new desks, etc) and was assured I could probably (inchallah) get transport but probably wouldn’t be able to get transport back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No biggie- I could ride my bike back!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I asked around about how far the village actually is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got all sorts of estimates, anywhere from about 8-11K.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made sure there was a transit for the day I wanted to go (Tuesday) and Tuesday morning I showed up to Souk at 10, as told by my transit man.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">So, now its 10am Tuesday morning and I show up to Souk with my bike expecting to have to bike home from Tachdirt but expecting transit on the way there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After loading my bike up on the transit I sit to talk to the taxi drivers for a little bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually my site doesn’t get a lot of tourists, since it’s in the middle of no where but occasionally tourists stop here for transportation to Lake Ifni, a beautiful lake about 30 K into the mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for some reason, today there were about 10 tourists (in 3 different groups) hoping to get transport to Lake Ifni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the tourists was a young Moroccan from Marrakesh who knew Peace Corps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very interesting talking to him about how a volunteer helped him study for his BAC (a test the kids take here to ‘graduate’ high school) and the impact all the different volunteers have had on him from a young age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After talking to two of the different groups of tourists I notice my bike being pulled down from the transit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walk over to ask what was going on and was informed there will be no transit to Tachdirt today since they could make more money off the tourists going to the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After three weeks of trying to get these pictures I’m over it so I ask my transport man how far I could get via transit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tells me there is a transit that will leave within the hour that will take me about half way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we load my bike up on the new transit.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">After getting into the transit with 4 other women and about 10 men we are finally off!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s really interesting to watch the reactions I get from Moroccans who I haven't met yet and that don’t know I know Tashlheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The women are very cold, don’t smile back and usually look at me with disgust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During this transit ride I got a phone call from another volunteer and spoke with her on the phone for a little bit (in English, obviously.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After getting off the phone everyone pretty much ignored me, the tourist, on the transit with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about 3 minutes in the transit my carpenter calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn’t speak any English so I talk to him on the phone in Tashlheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyones faces was PRICELESS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smiles all around, whispering to each other “that girl knows tashlheet!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mood in the transit suddenly changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone wanted to know who I was, where I learned Tashlheet, where I live, invite me to tea!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met two young ladies who invited me to tea and told them if I had time on the way back I’d stop in to say hello.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">After getting out in a dowar a couple kilometers in I began the first of my bike treks for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never been to this dowar so at every dowar along the way I asked people if I was indeed on the road to Tachdirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along the way I ran into woman doing laundry, had lots of tea invites and even joked around with some kids who were swimming in their underwear in the river (lucky kids- if I want to swim I have to do it in a long sleeve shirt and pants!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After rocky terrain, lots of hills, almost falling off my bike about 3 times and having to cross a river I finally arrived to a dowar where I saw someone I knew, the principal of the school that the desks were for!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bike ride took about 1 ½ hours and I was exhausted and hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was immediately invited in for tea and a second breakfast which I happily ate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After breakfast we went to see the desks at the school and I took some pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After talking for a while about possible future projects and more tea I was brought to the principal’s house to relax before lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The principal told me he was going back to work but I was told to stay there until after 4 when it would cool off and I could bike home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Often here in Morocco I’m brought into a room and left there alone for anywhere from 1-4 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, this happens a lot so I always travel with my ipod and a book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a quick nap and some light reading I got bored so I went to find the wife in the house to chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat and talking to the principals wife and some other ladies from the dowar for a while and then finally, at almost 3:30, lunch was served!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was starving so I ate lots, relaxed for another 30 minutes and then I was on my way home.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">After about 5K of my bike ride home it started raining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And not just light, cool off, nice rain, but pouring “ouch this hurts” rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, I was in the dowar of my two transit friends so when I was asked by one of the woman to come in for tea I told her I had friends here and she took me to their doors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sat, had tea, cookies, I taught them some English words and was on my way again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last 5K was the hardest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this time my legs were killing me and any hill I saw on the horizon brought tears to my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I biked down the hills and on the flat parts but walked up the hills- which were plentiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I passed through lots of dowars, again, lots of tea invites and walked my bike a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>FINALLY… after 2 ½ hours I was in my Souk!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bought my dinner (some chicken breasts), talked to a few people and biked home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">What a day, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just another day here in Morocco! But I made it… and I got those pictures!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, overall-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SUCCESS!!</div></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-40455816377312274312011-07-08T13:04:00.001-07:002011-07-08T13:04:50.571-07:00March, April, May, June... oh wait, its July!? Ooops!<div class="MsoNormal">Ok. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I admit it.</span> <i>I have a problem</i>. <i><strike>I am the worlds worst blogger.</strike></i> But here I am, however many months later… admitting my problem and working to fix it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now the hard part. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Where do I even begin?</span> So much has happened. I guess I should start with life in general? I’ve now been in Morocco for about <i>16 months-</i> and like I’ve said before… it’s been the longest and shortest 16 months of my life. I’ve grown, cried, wanted to go home, loved my life and every feeling or emotion in-between. The only way I can think of retelling my adventures is month by month. So here ya go! By the way, I just looked BACK at my last post and wow- I really do suck! Heres a short summary of the last 6 months!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">March</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I finally got the <b>SPA funding </b>for my desks project and this was the month I spent talking to my carpenter to get the project started. The project consisted of 45 new desks, 2 blackboards and a bookshelf for two preschools which also double as women’s literacy centers in villages nearby. This project is ALMOST completed as of July!! This month we also received the <b>newest staj of health and environment volunteers into the country</b>. This will be the LAST group of health and environment volunteers since now all PCVs in Morocco will be youth development. This also means this is the last group to be learning any berber dialects (like Tashlheet, which I speak) since all incomers will now only be learning Moroccan Arabic (Darija). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">April</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal">This month I made my <b>first trip up north and spent a few days in Fez</b>! I was there to visit friends but also because Small Business Development Volunteers were holding a craft fair (<b>Marche Maroc</b>) and I wanted to get gifts for my soon-to be trip home. I loved the city, got to visit the tanneries, ate lots of McDonalds and did a lot of walking around the medina area. I hope to make another trip up north again soon! April also held <b>Spring Camp</b>!!! This is a week long English camp that PCVs help coordinate and run. A friend of mine was organizing the camp and since I’d already be waaaaay up north I figured why not. I did camp with 5 other voltuneers. We all taught English 3 hours in the morning and then had clubs/activities with the kids in the afternoon. When I say afternoon I mean UNTIL ABOUT MIDNIGHT EVERYNIGHT! I have no idea how these kids had so much energy but they did- 7-midnight for a week. It was a very long week… my class made me cry (by talking crap about me, in front of me, in a language I don’t know) but I also met some amazing kids. Some of the highlights include: 3 other PCV girls and I did a dance performance of Waka Waka by Shakira which had an encore performance featuring girls from our camp, the kids all crying and wanting signatures the last night (I guess they REALLY liked camp) and being called ‘miskeena=sad/pathetic/poor’ by one of my campers after seeing pictures of my home. Overall, long but fun week! After camp I also <b>visited a good friends site nearby.</b> Finally (whoa—this month was busy!) I met my <b>new site mate,</b> Alex this month. Oh yeah. And <b>Lily got hit by a car</b>. But don’t worry, she’s fine now. Tough little pup! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">May </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Aghhhh! What a wonderful, fabulous, amazing month! This month my beautiful, amazing younger sister Gabbi graduated from CSU in May and my fabulous father purchased my ticket so I could be <b>home in Colorado</b> for the event. It was amazing. I got to see all my fabulous friends, family, old co-workers and enjoy all the fabulous-ness that is amazing for a beautiful 2 ½ weeks. I wont bore you with the stories of America since chances are you LIVE there… but let me tell you… I miss that country! Hot water, amazing restaurants with fabulous service, air conditioning, no restrictions on clothes/makeup/hair, English all the time and all the people I love the most. It was a GREAT trip home and I really can’t imagine it being ANY better than it was!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">June </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Another busy month! (I have a feeling the next 10 will be this way! Well- minus August, which is Ramadan!) <b>Lindas home!! </b>A dear friend of mine, Linda, that lives about 30 K away returned home after some medical stuff in South Africa so I went to visit her with my two newbies, Alex (sitemate) and Louis (Steves replacement- he lives about 20K further into the mountain). I also <b>hosted a BBQ at my site </b>this month, which was my first gathering of more than 2 voltuneers. The point of this bbq was to say our farewells to Andy. Yes, <b>Andy has left.</b> Sad news, I know. He has such a great source of knowledge to have around and I have been honored and privileged to have been able to get to know him over the last year! The BBQ was fun, we ate lots of American foods (thanks to everyone who’s sent boxes for all the care package goodies!), grilled and played beer pong!! June was also <b>Gnaua</b>, a music festival that happens every year in Essaouria. LOTS of volunteers go so it’s a great chance for us to all hang out, listen to good music (if we go to the concerts), wear dresses/makeup and have a mini vacation in country! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">July</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">This month!!! Finally, I never thought I’d get there! Most of the volunteers in the Ouarzazate and surrounding area celebrated the <b>4<sup>th</sup> of July in Ouarzazate</b> at a hotel pool in the city! We even made brownies and homemade ice cream to celebrate the holiday. I also had a meeting with the men who I will be working on for my upcoming <b>Sanitation System grant</b> (THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU DONATED!!!) recently and we’re all really excited to get this show on the road. We’re going to be buying supplies for the project this month (inchallah) and start digging right after Ramadan.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Whelp… I think that’s about it. <u>I promise I’ll get better at this</u>, I only have <strike>10 months</strike> to get my butt in gear but I’ll try... Really hard... I will!! As always, <b>any and all responses are appreciated</b>… hey, think of it this way… Your responses will make me <i>happy </i>and when I’m <i>happy </i>I write <u>more </u>blog posts. Its science! So do it! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hit the response button!</span> NOW!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-86812770468856933362011-02-21T13:41:00.000-08:002011-02-21T13:41:52.276-08:00Request for help from YOU!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">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! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Recently a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">village in my community expressed interest/want for a Sanitation </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">System since they currently don’t have one… However, it’s expensive </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">and not something I can cover with a Peace Corps grant. So- we’ve </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">(myself and community) written up another grant and <b>now I need </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>contributions from friends and family at home</b>. The total amount we </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">need to complete this project is $9,227, but <i>my community will </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>contribute $4,327 (which is 46% of the final budget!) </i>though labor, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">transportation and other various tasks. So that leaves <b><u>only $4,900</u></b> to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">help a village in my community fight disease, transmission of human </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">waste into the crops/water and much more for years to come.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">You can read more about the actual project here:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=378-149" style="color: #0000cc;" target="_blank">https://www.peacecorps.gov/<wbr></wbr>index.cfm?shell=donate.<wbr></wbr>contribute.projDetail&<wbr></wbr>projdesc=378-149</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Now what I’m asking from all of you is to help me and my community! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>If you can donate anything, please do</b>. I know that everyone is busy </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">and no one is made of money but any amount really does help. <i>Go </i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">without your Starbucks for a week, get an outfit at Goodwill instead </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">of new or make dinner at home instead of going out and donate the </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>difference! </i><b>Any amount- big or small- helps us to get to our end </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>goal.</b> We can’t get started building until the grant is completely </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">funded and its something I really want to get started on to ensure </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">that it’s completed by my close of service May 2012 (a little over a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">year away!).</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">If you have any friends or family who you think might be interested in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">helping through donations please feel free to</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> direct them to the donation page… The sooner this grant can be </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">completely funded the sooner we can begin work on helping this </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">community with their sanitation problem.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Take care and <b>Shukran Bzzzzf </b>(Thank you so much!)</span>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-42525609390578734202011-02-09T04:09:00.001-08:002011-02-09T04:09:18.702-08:00And now we're expecting..... two puppies<div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before I share this story with you I have to tell you:</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><ul><li>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.</li>
<li>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). </li>
<li>This story is pretty awful, especially if you’re a pet person… but unfortunately its all true.</li>
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<div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So… we’re expecting puppies. Two of them. March 20<sup>th</sup>. 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…. </div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-49114254910680023862011-02-02T13:17:00.000-08:002011-02-02T13:17:32.970-08:00Guest Blog Post: DadAs 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!<br />
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<blockquote>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! </blockquote><blockquote>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! </blockquote><blockquote>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. </blockquote><blockquote>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). <a href="" name="_GoBack"></a>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! </blockquote><blockquote>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?). </blockquote><blockquote>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! </blockquote>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-664087418468431732011-01-25T10:06:00.000-08:002011-01-25T10:06:35.479-08:00Casablanca, Italy and Dads Visit!<div class="MsoNormal">As usual, lots to report, since I seem to never be able to find the time (or want to pull my hands out of the covers) to type up a blog report.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But today, although cloudy, isn’t too cold so I shall type up an entry!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I’ll start with my <b>amazing vacation</b> I took!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went with another PCV, Alexa, to Italy for Christmas to visit my dad but along the way I was able to meet up with a friend I went to school in Colorado with, who lives in Casablanca.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was generous to let myself and Alexa stay with his family for the two nights before we flew out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was both of our first time in Casablanca and it was so great having such an amazing tour guide/friend in the city!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are some of the highlights of the trip: hanging out with Moroccan males like we would American friends, watching the boys play a soccer match, exploring the souk area of Casa, the amazing hospitality of Salahs family, the surprise they had when they saw our Carte de Sejours and discovered we really do live and function here in Morocco with our limited Tashlheet, going to visit Hassan II Mosque, finding an awesome restaurant with live music, Alexa getting an egg thrown at her (sorry Alexa, but this was, in fact, hilarious), drinks at TGIFriday, going out to a club in our day sweaters and riding in a CAR!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was such a great trip to Casa, Thanks Salah! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After our wonderful pre-vacation Casa trip we were off to Italy to visit my Dad and Sandy (step mom).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They picked us up at the airport with Taco Bell (god bless their parents) and it was SOOO good to see them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we got back to the house we opened a bottle of wine and chatted the night away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day we were off to Florence to celebrate Alexas birthday for two days (thanks dad!) and then back to dads house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alexa and I had sooo much fun doing laundry, taking showers, eating excessive amounts of food and drinking delicious adult beverages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(you would think that was me being sarcastic, but its not--- it was amazing)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also managed to fit in a trip to Vicenza to visit friends and a night out on the town in Aviano with old friends too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was SO amazing having a real Christmas with presents, a tree and delicious Christmas dinner with family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After 11 days of being spoiled I returned home to pick up Lily and travel back to site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I was finally home, settled and unpacked I didn’t want to leave again for New Years so I celebrated quietly at home with some Velveeta, Mad Men and cuddled up with Lily. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After being home for about two weeks I also had my first in site visitor, MY DAD!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His flights ended up messing things up a bit, and he was stuck in Casablanca for an extra night (so I got to stay in a fancy hotel with towels, a tub and its own bathroom by myself- oh the little things!) but I picked him up and we hit the ground running (without his bag- thanks Royal Air Maroc) and headed to site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a bit overwhelming for me, so I can only imagine how the trip went for him (hopefully he’ll type up his own blog soon and you’ll all get to hear what he thought!—hint hint dad!!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we hit all the important places, Host families’ house, land lords house and saw Souk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know my village really loved getting to meet my dad and it was so awesome finally getting to show someone from home this life/experience I’m having.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-75414696840671751262011-01-14T03:10:00.000-08:002011-01-14T03:10:27.290-08:00Moroccan Weddings: Video and PicsI've written a past post about Moroccan weddings <a href="http://angelicapc.blogspot.com/2010/07/moroccan-walk-of-shame.html">here</a> but am finally at an internet connection to post some videos...<br />
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<object height="240" width="320"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/811082781633" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/811082781633" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="240"></embed></object><br />
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Here are some pictures to check out too:<br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2379830&id=19214791&l=c8fea0eba3">Wedding Pics</a><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2373954&id=19214791&l=3111cdeb5e">More Wedding Pics</a><br />
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Enjoy--- a real blog post coming soon!Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-18224776142715047552010-12-12T05:26:00.000-08:002010-12-12T05:26:06.235-08:00A typical day in the bl3d...<div class="MsoNormal">I feel like I blog a lot about big activities, festivals or holidays we celebrate here but a big part of this experience has been my day to day life: going to buy vegetables at the market (Souk), figuring out how to buy meat at the butcher (I can now order just chicken breasts—Thanks Terry!) or Kefta (which is like seasoned hamburger meat), having tea with new families or just seeing a familiar face on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So today I decided I would type out a blog about my day, which is much like everyday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">I got a late start today, since I’ve been trying to fight off a cold and traveling a bit but by the time I had my morning coffee and something to eat it was about 10:30 am and I was off for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My only goal for the day was to go to the hanut in Souk (where I can buy some ‘nicer’ items like toilet paper, Keshir (spam-like meat that Lily loves) and body wash) and to stop by the sbitar to pick a form up from my new doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In America a few small errands like this would take, what…an hour?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh no… not in Morocco! I’m going to number my interactions with people for giggles, but keep in mind these are just the people I stopped and spoke to for more than 5 minutes… the typical greetings (hello, how are you, how is your family, etc) are usually with EVERYONE I pass, so I don’t count those. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><ol><li>So, I left my house and my friend Nzha and other lady from my dowar were sitting outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to talk to Nzha anyway because we had made plans to go to the Hmam (public bath) but I needed to cancel so it was convenient she was out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went through the typical greetings and then she asked me when I would be leaving for Italy to visit my dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other lady didn’t know I was going so we started talking about my trip and she started freaking out because she thought I was leaving for good and kept saying I couldn’t leave because she would miss me too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t understand why she was getting so upset until Nzha explained I was just going for 10 days and would return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So yeah, I learned I’d be missed in my dowar... that was a good way to start my errands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So after about 15 minutes of chatting I headed on my way again…</li>
<li>… and then I ran into a little old Lady and about 4 children in a dowar on the way called Ait Tunes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This little old lady is always sitting outside near the irrigation ditch so I see her quite often and she’s very nice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked where my dog was and I explained I had left her at home so we started talking about Lily and how she’s always with me and she’s not like the other dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little kids (and most adults) all know Lilys name, so it’s funny when we walk by and people yell her name. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(She’s like a local celebrity!) They even yell her name when she’s not with me (I think some of them might think MY name is Lily… oops)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So after about 10 minutes of chit chat I continued on….</li>
<li>…Between Ait Tunes and Fouzilal (another dowar) I ran into 4 boys from my dowar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have taught them “how are you” so they love saying that when they see me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re still working on “good, thank you” but it’s a slow process!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They (like everyone else) asked about Lily, where I was going, how my family in America is… yada yada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were carrying bags of some kind of fruit (don’t remember the name in Tash even) but they look like a mix between apples and pears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They tried to give me a few but I only took one (not a huge fan, kinda sour) and then headed on my way….</li>
<li>… Next I saw my favorite Hanut owner in Fouzilal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is where I can go to buy basic things like flour, eggs, milk and such.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the hanut owner that let me start a tab a few weeks ago and leant me money (I have to travel to the city to use an ATM and it’s a pain in the butt sometimes).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's a hodge (which means hes traveled to Mecca) and a really nice guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat and talked to him for a little bit ( I see him pretty often since I try and make it to the hanut every other day at least, it makes it easier to carry things home little by little instead of in big batches) and then continued on…</li>
<li>The travel from my house until Fouzilal is all unpaved but after Fouzilal it’s a paved road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So as I’m walking down this paved road I run into a man I’ve never met before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I greeted him and he greeted me back very formally (in Arabic) calling me a teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then responded in tash that I’m not a teacher (I love seeing peoples faces when the tash comes out).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So then we started talking (how long have I been here, where did I learn tash, where am I from, etc) and he asked me why I hadn’t been to his dowar yet (there are a total of 49 in Tidili).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we started talking about his dowar (Azro) and I promised him I would go visit it sometime after I get back from Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So he gave me his name (So I can ask for him when I go and have lunch with him and his family) and phone number and then made me promise I’d go when I got back from my trip and sent me on my way…</li>
<li>… Not long after I left my new friend from Azro I ran into a few ladies I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were working in the fields and called me over. We talked for a while about my upcoming trip (everyone knows everything I do here, seriously:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where I am at all times, who I’m with, what kind of vegetables I buy in Souk- you name it, they probably know…) and then I kept on walking along the road into Souk…</li>
<li>It’s now about 12:30 and I’ve arrive to Souk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I walk into town I see a few of the taxi drivers I know, they ask if I’m going anywhere, when I tell them no we start talking about Lily (everyone wants to know about her).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about 10 minutes of talking about Lily they let me continue on me way and... </li>
<li>I’m finally at the sbitar!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are a few women I know there so I start talking to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t seen them since before l3id (which was about a month ago now) so I ask how it was, yada yada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the nurse comes to talk to me and I talk to her for a little bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She speaks a little bit of English and is always shocked when I know words in tash, but we get along pretty well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about 30 minutes of talking to her the doctor comes in (she knows a little English too, we struggle a little more since she doesn’t know any tash) and we all talk for a little while more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They invite me to their home (which is the first house I looked at and wanted to live in, but it was too expensive) for lunch on Sunday and we talk a little more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so funny because they are always so surprised when someone comes into the sbitar and knows me or when I understand something they are talking about in Arabic (some words are interchangeable… not many, but a few are the same in Tash).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are also really surprised when I explain to them I know people in my dowar and have friends in the bl3d… since most doctors and nurses that move to the bl3d keep to themselves, don’t learn tash (which is hard when they are talking to patients), finish their few years and then go back to the city).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, at about 1 I walked the doctor home and headed to the Hanut (goal #2 of the day)</li>
<li>As I was walking into the main area of souk the butcher called me over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went over and talked to him, he’s a really nice guy who owns two stores, one of which I buy my meat from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to know why I hadn’t made it to his house for L3id, I explained I was too full and we chit chatted about the holiday for a bit. After about 15 minutes of talking I headed toward the hanut…</li>
<li>…and I finally made it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are quite a few hanuts in Souk but there is one that I typically go to (he has the REALLLY fancy stuff like Ramen and even cheese sometimes!!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After we talked about Lily, my family and my upcoming trip I got all my goodies and headed home.</li>
<li>While still in souk I ran into another Hanut owner and talked to him for about 10 minutes and then ran into a big group of men who had lots of questions about Lily (what does she eat, how do I wash her, etc).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you can’t tell by now people are VERY interested in Lily and how I care for her… my tash is REALLY good when I have to talk about her, since it happens very often.</li>
<li>On my way home (on the paved road again) I ran into a group of ladies from my dowar doing laundry in the river, they yelled at me to come over but I knew that would mean I’d be there forever so we exchanged greetings/talked for about 10 minutes (while yelling across the fields) and then I went on my way…</li>
<li>I took the shortcut through the fields home and ran into a little girl, Khadija (I think she told me shes 9?), from my dowar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She's one the smartest little girls I know and I love talking to her (especially when she’s not with a huge group of girls).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood and talked to her for about 15 minutes and she invited me to the Hmam with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her another time and kept heading home…</li>
<li>Lots of greetings along the way and when I finally got to my dowar (Ait Burig) there was a big group of girls outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I talked to them for a little bit and then…..</li>
</ol><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Finally home at 2:30!!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, that’s a pretty basic idea but you can see what it takes to just run two simple errands around here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I usually have to build in about 2 hours to run to the hanut since you never know who you’re going to run into or who is going to INSIST on tea and/or lunch… That’s why its so hard when people ask what kind of WORK I’ve done here...because work IS going to the hanut, or going to pick up a form from the sbitar or forming all the relationships with people I’ve formed through tea or chats in the fields… </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Speaking of work- my site made has been working on two grants that he’s not going to be able to see through so I’m taking them over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s super exciting (but I'm also terribly nervous) to actually be doing some real “work” now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll keep you all posted as my work progresses, imik a mik (little by little).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them will be a PCPP (inchallah) which means I’ll need funding from home since it’s too much for Peace Corps to cover…More to come on that soon!! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Leave some love!!</div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-77448370731021343232010-11-09T09:39:00.000-08:002010-11-09T09:39:46.296-08:00So....what am I doing here again?So I’ve officially been in country for 8 months and what a whirlwind of emotions it’s been… I’ve been happy/sad/depressed/excited/lonely/overwhelmed/motivated and everything in-between, sometimes all in one day or a few hours. This experience has far surpassed anything I ever could have thought it could give me and I can’t wait to see what the next 18 months have in store for me- some work, hopefully! But first, I’ve had a request for something that I’ve somehow seemed to overlook in all these blog posts: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">What exactly is my job here?</b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">This question is a great question, though very hard to explain as I myself am still trying to figure this out. I ask myself this question at least a few times everyday here and have no concrete answer, so instead I’ll use some PC material we’ve been given to explain a little about our goals here in Morocco, as Rural Health Workers and hopefully interject a little of what I’m doing/plan to do/hope to do here in my community.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> <o:p></o:p></b><br />
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</b></div><div class="bodytext2"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Project Purpose: Rural community members will achieve better health status through preventive practices reinforced by positive social and environmental change.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="bodytext2"><br />
</div><div class="bodytext2"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">To accomplish this project purpose PC has met with the Ministry of Health here in Morocco (this is our main point of contact here, and who operated the local sbitars) and created 3 goals that should be our main point of focus when we’re creating educational programs for the schools, organizing trainings or even informally talking to people in our community. As Volunteers here in Morocco, we’re in such unique, since we live among the people, learning the language and live like them. Most people in my community look at me as more of a friend/family member than anything else which gives me a great opportunity for informal education, whether it be sitting with the woman preparing couscous (which is called souc souc here--- its couscous backwards!) for a wedding, having tea at my neighbors or attending a new birthing ceremony in a nearby dowar. The following are the 3 goals that have been created for us:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="bodytext2"><br />
</div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in;"><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><u>Goal 1:<o:p></o:p></u></span></b></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><u>Community members (men, women, and children) will actively participate in activities that promote personal health and reinforce appropriate health behaviors.</u> <o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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</span></b></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">So- what does this mean?</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> Working with men and women to teach them about pre-natal care, which means teaching them the importance of checkups and where they can go to get these checkups. Also, educating the children in our community about nutrition and proper hygiene- the things we’re taught as children and take for granted: brushing your teeth, washing your hands with soap before eating/after the bathroom, etc. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">How can/will I do this?</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> Inchallah (this is a phrase used very often, it translates to “god willing” and can be used in almost any and all situations). I do a lot of this informally with my woman, during tea or just in passing when I meet a pregnant woman. This problem here is the lack of staff at my sbitar, as woman sometimes have to wait for hours to speak to a nurse, and they have a lot of work they do at home (other children, tending the animals, cooking for the family, cleaning) so its tough getting them to go wait for hours when they don’t usually understand the importance of visits anyway. As for the education for the children, I hope to do some pretty basic lessons in some of the schools and also make it a point to wash my hands and talk about teeth brushing informally to them often. The biggest challenge here is its behavioral change, which is the most difficult thing to change. We’re taught from a young age about this, its reinforced by our parents, school system and in books/tv we watch. This is news to a lot of these children, and if their parents don’t understand the importance/want to spend the extra money on the toothbrush or soap it’s a hard lesson to teach. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;"><br />
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</div><div class="bodytext2" style="mso-outline-level: 1; tab-stops: .5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Goal 2:</span></u></b><u><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in;"><b><u><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Targeted professional and non-professional health workers will have enhanced capacity to deliver effective preventive health education throughout rural communities. <o:p></o:p></span></u></b><br />
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</span></u></b></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">So what does that mean?</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> This means working with our local community to assist in training health professionals in <b>preventative</b> health education through non-formal education, etc. It also means working with our Ministry and community to help train woman to become traditional birth attendants (TBAs). These are woman in the community who know how to properly birth a child through safe general hygiene practices and know the signs of a problem during birthing. These TBAs also refer the woman to care for pre and post natal checkups. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">How can/will I do this?</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> This is where I want to focus a lot of my attention because I’ve seen first hand (with my host mother) what a problem this is. Also, being a female volunteer I’m able to work a lot more with the woman than a male volunteer would ever be able to and I want to take advantage of this position I’m in. A challenge here is my Ministry (boss, essentially) would rather us try to make the woman go to the biggest clinics (about 30 K) away, which would be great if it was realistic. There are a lot of obstacles to doing this, such as lack of money, husbands not wanting their wives to do this , lack of transport and not understanding why this is important to name a few. The last TBA training that was done in my site was over 10 years ago, with a lot of these women now dead. I was told by my host mother that my 13 year old sister helped birth my host mothers 8<sup>th</sup> child. I think my community could greatly benefit from something like this and I hope to organize 3 day training, inviting woman from all my outlying dowars… wish me luck. (Realistically this is more of a 2<sup>nd</sup> year project, but its something I want to start working on, as projects like this take a large amount of time)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="bodytext2" style="mso-outline-level: 1; tab-stops: .5in;"><br />
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</div><div class="bodytext2" style="mso-outline-level: 1; tab-stops: .5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Goal 3:</span></u></b><i><u><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></i></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: 1.0in;"><b><u><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Communities, local organizations and local institutions will have increased capacity to reinforce healthy lifestyles through environmental and social change.<o:p></o:p></span></u></b><br />
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</span></u></b></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">So what does this mean? </span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> It means working with my community to find organizations that are able to properly assess and address community health needs. It also means working with local institutions such as clinics, schools, mosques, souks to properly collect and dispose of their solid and liquid wastes so as to prevent health and environmental hazards. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">How can/will I do this?</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> My main focus here is the disposal of waste. An obvious problem is how waste s disposed of at my sbitar.. I have recently learned from a previous volunteer that at one point we did have an incinerator so that’s something I need to check on. There is also a big push from the ministry to focus on this goal, as a lot of health related problems could be prevented/minimized if there wasn’t trash in the river beds, around the dowars. They way they see things is if we get rid of the trash we get rid of the rats/mice, stray dogs, flies that come with the trash and can therefore prevent a lot of problems these creatures cause. I agree with this 100%. The solution to this problem, however, is again behavioral change. People don’t understand why they can just through all their trash out in a field. I burn what I can, and carry what can’t be burned into the city, but that’s not realistic for big families, especially ones who never go into the city (like Ouarzazate and Marrakesh that have trash disposal programs). This is a huge topic of conversation among volunteers; because if we don’t know what to do with our trash how can we teach others what to do with it? Yes, we can teach them to bury it… but where? And how do we get them to want to do this? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="bodytext2" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;"><br />
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</div>Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-4150626086464031372010-09-05T14:43:00.000-07:002010-09-05T14:43:17.730-07:00Two month catch up...I’ve been kinda crappy at keeping up with this blog, I always think about things I want to write about when I’m out and about and of course I never write them down, so they never get blogged about. So what I’ve decided to do is just make some bullet points with highlights of the past few months.<br />
<ul><li>I went to my host sister in Tazentoute (my first host families) wedding, which was awesome because I was invited to take part in the ‘family only’ part of the wedding. This consisted of an extra meal of lunch, sitting with her while she sat and got her henna done and then traveling with her to ‘deliver’ her to a hotel in her new town after the 3 day wedding (the woman traditionally move in with the mens family). It was also great going back to Tazentoute for the first time since I’ve move to Tidili, I got to see all the family and friends that treated me so well during my first 2 months in country</li>
<li>My language is coming along little by little. Peace Corps tests us every time we meet (right after CBT, again during PPST and then again during IST, etc) so we get to see where we stand in language. I don’t think the test is completely accurate of where we are in language but its nice to have some sort of grading system. The test doesn’t really mean much, you just have to ‘pass’ the first time (which I did) and I got the next level up this time, so that’s reassuring since somedays I feel like my language is really nonexistent…</li>
<li>We had our two weeks of training in Ouarzazate at the end of July. This was the first time all 42 of us Health volunteers were together since swearing in 3 months before so it was awesome catching up with everyone. So far we have only lost 2 people from our group (they decided PC wasn’t for them so they ETed-early terminated) so its fun catching up with everyone, hearing about their sites, stories, etc. Peace Corps also put us up in a pretty nice hotel, with a REAL bathroom (toilet, shower, bathtub AND towels), air conditioning and a pool. It was nice to be spoiled for those two weeks (mine was cut short thanks to my health problem, but whatever, I’m better now!)</li>
<li>My house finally feels like a home. I have all the necessities to live, I’m just picking up the random things along the way now. Its great having my own house, a place to retreat and regroup but its also very difficult being a female living alone, since that is not something my community is used to. I know they have good intentions but I can very rarely get through more than 2 hours without SOMEONE knocking on my door to bring me bread, check on me, see if I want to come over to eat later, etc. It’s been great for my language because its easy to lock myself in the house but with people coming over I’m constantly having to talk…. </li>
<li>My landlords family has adopted me as one of their own, they are amazing. They were the host family for two other volunteers sometime around 2000 so they are awesome with speaking slow and understanding my charades. My landlord of a hodge (I’m sure I’m not spelling that right), which means he has traveled to Mecca. He has 4 children, 3 boys and 1 girl. One of the sons lives with him (hes a taxi driver here) and I looove his wife, Nzha, shes around my age (forget how old) and has two children. She comes over to my house almost everyday, it’s great because shes super patient with me and laughs at my mispronunciations. I think her and I will be great friends. His daughter, Aiesha, also lives near me and shes awesome. I went over to her house the other day and she sent me home with bread and soup after stuffing me full-incase I got hungry when I was at home later. All in all the family is wonderful, for example: the power went out tonight, at about 7 (right before it gets dark) and before I even had time to freak out half the family was at my door explaining to me the power was out in all of Tidili. They then walked me to their house for lfdur and held me hostage until the power came back. They defiantly take great care of me, and I am so grateful to have such a great family so close by. </li>
<li>Ramadan is almost over. Although I'm not fasting (see previous post) it will be nice to be able to drink water out in public again, it’s really hard when I have to go to souk (Main town and weekly market) and cant bring a water bottle. It will also be nice not to have to constantly argue why I’m not Muslim or fasting- most people wont argue with me and understand why I’m not fasting, but the occasional few will not drop the subject and it gets a bit frustrating. </li>
<li>Last but not least, I went on a 22 hour hike with my site mate, Andy this week. We hiked to Sidi Fadma, which is supposed to be a 15 hour hike but between me being slow and us not knowing the exact path it ended up taking us quite a bit longer. We hiked for 12 hours the first day, slept on a rock by the river that night (more like froze my butt off, but whatever) and then hiked 10 hours the next day. It was a beautiful hike, but I was definatly not physically prepared for such a thing. The idea of a ‘path’ here in Morocco is not like in America, we were literally climbing up mountains and then sliding down them at a few points. And if you don’t know, I'm scared of heights, so there were a couple of panic attacks involved. But, I lived to tell the tale and that’s all that matters, right? On the hike we also met two amazing woman (they were carrying food for the cows on their backs up a mountain-literally!) but I seriously cant think of a day I’ve been here when I haven’t met amazing people- the people here inspire me everyday!</li>
</ul>Whew- I think that’s enough for now… if you’ve got a minute write ME a message and let me know how YOU’RE doing back home, messages from home make me very happy!--- polen.angelica@gmail.com I love hearing from all of you! Love of love!Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-7662292204192146262010-08-25T11:59:00.000-07:002010-08-25T11:59:49.692-07:00Ramadan KarimWhere do I even begin?! Let’s start with the important stuff—it’s Ramadan! What is Ramadan you ask? <br />
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<blockquote>Ramadan is a time of fasting for the Islamic people. Each day during this month, Muslims all over the world abstain from eating, drinking, smoking, as well as participating in anything that is ill-natured or excessive; from dawn until the sun sets. Fasting is intended to educate the Muslim in spirituality, humility and patience. It is a time to cleanse the soul, focus attention on God, and put into practice selflessness. Ramadan is a time for Muslims to fast for the sake of God and to put forward more prayer than is customary. During Ramadan, Muslims request forgiveness for sins in the past, pray for direction and assistance in abstaining from everyday troubles, and endeavor to cleanse themselves through self-control and great acts of faith. Fasting is one of the Five Pillars of the Islam religion, and one of the main types of Islamic worship. Restraint from everyday enjoyment and curbing wicked intentions and cravings are considered as an act of compliance and obedience to God, as well as amends for sins, faults, and mistakes. -http://www.whatisramadan.com</blockquote><br />
So now that you know the basics what does that mean for me living in a Muslim country? Well, fasting during Ramadan is compulsory for anyone who has reaching the age of pubery, so long as they are healthy, sane and have no disabilities or illnesses. The Qur'an makes exceptions for certain groups, like the elderly, chronically ill, mentally ill, travelers, pregnant woman, menstruating woman and nursing woman however if able, the days missed during fast this year must be made up next year…. So the big question…. Am I fasting? Nope. A lot of Peace Corps volunteers do fast, it’s a GREAT way to integrate into your community but not something I was prepared to do this year after being sick and having a trip to Spain planned during Ramadan… next year, however, is a different story.<br />
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So what happens during Ramadan? As you can imagine there are a lot of hungry, thirsty, nicotine deprived people out and about. Most people try to sleep as long as they can during the day, naps are taken by almost everyone during what would be normal lunch time (with extended hours so ‘lunch time’ now happens from about 12-4) and then not much is done again until break fast (lfdur, which literally translates to breakfast) at 7:30pm. At 7:30pm everyone eats dates, sweets, hariera (soup), juice, bread, jam, butter and anything else that the family can afford. Its great to see the whole family eating together around one big table… I’ve celebrated break fast with two families, my neighbors the first night and my landlords family more recently (they have come to my house every night asking me to come over again- which I will do tomorrow, inshallah (god willing). I love being included in the lfdur meal, its also been great since its summer time and everyone has family visiting from Europe or the big cities. Lfdur usually lasts about 30 minutes of stuffing your face and chugging water then regular dinner at about 10:30pm. After dinner everyone sleeps for a few hours until dawn at about 3:30am when the mosques all go off and everyone eats and drinks one last time until lfdur again at 7:30pm…. And that is how the 29-30 days of Ramadan are spent here in the bl3d (rural areas) of Tidili…Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-40477542035498859692010-08-08T08:45:00.001-07:002010-08-08T08:45:43.189-07:00The last few days....I can breathe- finally.<br />
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The last couple days have been scary/long/exhausting/informative and pretty much everything in between. I won’t go into long details, it will just bore you and quite honestly I don’t want to re-live it all. But on Wednesday, at PPST (Post Pre Service Training) in Ouarazate I woke up to my back/side hurting. By lunch it really hurt and between walking from lunch to the room where we were staying I couldn’t breathe because I had a stabbing pain in my chest and was gasping for air. After some fellow PCVs called the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer) I was driven to a surgical center for a quick check up to ensure whatever it was wasn’t life threatening. After a few hours of crying and pain they decided it wasn’t it something that would kill me so it was decided I would be driven to Marrakesh that night. We left for Kesh at about 4pm for the terrible, terrible tishka. I mean, it sucks normally, but add in pain in my chest and lack of breathing and well- it sucked. We got to kesh at about 10 and I was met by a Peace Corps Doctor who then told me we would be going to Rabat the next day. Its now Sunday and I’m still in Rabat. They had me connected to a heart monitor yesterday and I’ll get the readings from that and talk to the doctors tomorrow about the next step….<br />
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I feel SOOO much better now but this has defiantly made me think a little differently about my service. I mean, I always knew I was out in the middle of no where but this really just confirmed that. This happened to me in Ouarzazate, with Peace Corps staff and PC cars around, it really was the best possible situation. And all I could think when it happened was how far away I was from help if I REALLY needed it. But I guess that’s part of the gig right? <br />
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This whole situation made me think too- how LUCKY I am to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. Yes, I live in the bl3id (rural areas) like everyone else, but I’m with the Peace Corps. If something happens in morocco I’ll be drive by the gendarms or army to a safe area and flown out. If I get sick I see the best doctors in the big cities and have tests til someone figures out whats wrong with me. What if something like this happened to someone in my village? What would they do? Go to my sbitar to see my one overworked nurse? Would they have the money to transport themselves the 2-3 hours into Ouarzazate and then have the money to even see the doctor? Realistically, probably not.<br />
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I’m feeling better day by day, shaken up, but doing great. Tomorrow I learn the results of the heart monitor they had on me yesterday and then we make a game plan of what to do from there. Which will it be--- back to site or stay in Rabat some more? Only time will tell….Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-80029568894197971522010-07-14T08:27:00.000-07:002010-07-14T08:27:37.589-07:00Moroccan Walk of ShameYesterday morning I did the walk of shame home. I walked home from a dowar that I don’t live in, at 830 am, in the clothes I wore the night before, after sleeping next to a total stranger in a strange house after a very long night… let me start from the beginning.<br />
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The day started as usual, woke up at about 9 to the birds chirping outside my window, it seems they have built a nest right outside my window in the mud and straw that is my roof. After my morning breakfast (I decided on oatmeal- a luxury I buy in the big city of Oz) and a cup of coffee I sat down to read emails annd catch up with the real world. Time sure flies by when your connecting and reconnecting to the internet and before I knew it, its 11am and I hear a knock on the door. After I throw a sweater on I go to answer the door and there is a young girl standing there. I recognize her from the day before when I saw her on my way to Souk. She had pretty henna so I complimented her on it, she told me she would come to my house to do it for me the next day, and here she is. This is the funny thing about people in Morocco, they use the phrase “ar sabah” (which translates to tomorrow) a lot. Sometimes it means tomorrow and sometimes it just means in the future. In this case it literally meant tomorrow. ,I of course, invite her in after brief “hellos, how are yous” she asks if I still want the henna. I tell her yes, so she instructs her little sister who is with her to go buy it at the hanut (corner store). I then take this opportunity to begin the tea making process since its rude to have a guest in your house and not offer something. Luckily my host family supplied me with all the goods for tea (cups, silver platter to serve it, tea pot and little bowls for oil/nuts). I made the tea Moroccan style (she and her gaggle of girls- 5 to be exact) were very impressed and we drank tea and ate cookies that I bought from souk and cashews (compliments of my fabulous dads are package) together. <br />
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After tea the henna process began. They sometimes put paint thinner in the henna to make it last longer and this was no exception. It makes the henna burn a bit, but it does make it darker. So after 2 hours of henna (front/back of both hands and some on my feet, but not enough to mean I’m married) the henna party began on the other girls. Before I knew it its now 2, and time for lunch. I wasn’t really prepared to feed 5 others so I decided on spaghetti since its pretty quick and American (Peace Corps Goal 3: Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served). I served the spaghetti on plates, with forks and taught them all how to use it. As you can imagine, between the henna on our hands and never using a fork it was quite a mess but we laughed and they enjoyed the spaghetti. The girls finally left at about 4 (after insisting on helping clean up the house, they did the dishes and swept the kitchen/courtyard area) and I was left alone once again (I have a new found appreciation for alone time).<br />
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The day before while I was in souk I was also instructed to go to Toughout (the dowar I used to live in) at 830 the next day for a wedding- maybe. Here is the thing about my language. I understand whats going on about 80% of the time, but sometimes I’m shwiya (sort of) confused and think I know whats going on when I really don’t. This was one of those times. I was 95% sure I was supposed to go to Toughout, but I'm never really sure which sucks because it could lead to a very confusing conversation trying to explain that I didn’t actually understand the day before. So anyway, I bucket showered, got dressed and headed over to Toughout not really knowing what to expect. I went to my host familys house and my sister wasn’t there, so I went to my friend Aminas house and her mom told me she was already at the wedding (bingo- I was right) so I headed over to Malikas house for her wedding celebrations. I arrived and the party was already started with loud singing, dancing (which is really just a sort of sway while you clap your hands) and lots of sweating. I was quickly wisked back to my friend Aminas house since I was not appropriately dress (my sun dress and long sleeve shirt wasn’t gonna cut it, so I was put into Moroccan wedding attire). <br />
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All the people who attended were crammed into a room, with the bride (Malika, a friend of mine) and groom on the far end, his family sitting closest to them and everyone else sitting on the ponjs (couches) lining the walls with people “dancing” in the middle. Malika was sitting with pillows under her hands and feet so she could get hennaed. Let me tell you, this wasn’t like the henna I had got that day, this was REAL henna. It took at least 6 hours, with 2 girls working on her, to get her henna done but <strong>wow</strong>, was it beautiful (pics soon). We literally danced and took photos (I had a camera and the grooms family had one, so everyone wanted pictures—they love pictures here, its annoying sometimes). Dinner was served at about 11, a whole chicken per table (whoooa!), elf pasta (spaghetti with powdered sugar and cinnamon) and watermelon for dessert. After dinner there was more dancing and I finally decided I was over it at about 2. <br />
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After I told my friend I wanted to go home I was told that wasn’t possible since the path to my dowar isn’t safe at night (due to stray dogs and being a female, stray males) so I wouldn’t be able to return home. I was hoping to be able to sleep at my host families house but since I hadn’t seen my host sister in hours (I guess she went home early because she got angry, I don’t really know the whole story here) I asked Amina if I could stay at her house. And that is how I ended up sleeping next to Aminas mom (a stranger), in a strange house, on the concrete floor and doing the walk of shame home at 830 the next morning. <br />
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Always something new here in Morocco and loving every minute of it!Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-76583346558442498152010-07-08T09:09:00.000-07:002010-07-08T09:09:07.761-07:00Home sweet home...I’m writing this entry from my brand new plastic table, while sitting on the brand new plastic chair in my courtyard drinking cold water from the fridge and wearing a tank top!! Oh, the simple joys of life!! <br />
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I’m officially moved into my house, have been since the 1st but its been quite a process since i literally moved in with only my luggage from home(American home). On July 1st my family helped me load the aserdoon (mule) up with all my luggage and make the short trip over to my new dowar. They helped me unload the luggage and then requested I return home for tea and lunch. After lunch I headed home to my new house and I must say, I thought my reaction would be <i>very different </i>since I had been looking forward to the first day in my new house for weeks now. I sat on my dirty kitchen floor, looking at the chipped paint, stained tiles, and cried…. <b>Don’t worry, don’t worry. </b>I’m fine now, I just had the brief moment of panic (no bed, no fridge, no pots, pans, broom—nothing). After I pulled myself together I made a trip to the hanut, which is just the corner store that sells just about everything. (I also learned I don’t have one of these in my particular dowar). I returned home with some Tide, sponges, brooms and buckets. I spent most of day one cleaning and going through my luggage since I just threw most of it together and didn’t really know where anything was. <br />
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While cleaning/unpacking I had a few woman from the dowar stop by to say hello/invite me for tea and also had my first run in with <span style="color: red;"><strong>my new arch enemy</strong></span>- the neighborhood children. For those of you that know me at home you know I’m not such a fan of children. I just don’t have the patience and most of the time they just annoy me. Well, imagine my happiness when they created a new game called “knock on the foreigner’s door and run.” After about 3 knock and runs I finally grabbed one of the children and told them I was done playing this game and they needed to stop. I don’t know if that particular kid is the one who did the knocking or not, but guilty by association. (oh yeah, he cried, but I got my point across). After that I had to yell at one more little girl and I haven’t had the problem since. They have a new game called “can we see inside your house game” but I'm working on that one with them now.<br />
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The last week or so has consisted of me going into souk (which is just far enough that it sucks to carry everything home, but close enough I just look lazy if I get a ride. Its also hard to get a ride since its an unpaved bumpy road), looking for various thing like a bed, oven (which is just a metal box of fire), fridge, table, pots, pans, etc and paying a transit driver to help me bring it all home. Slowly my house is starting to look like a home and I couldn’t be happier about it. Its just so nice to have a place that I don’t have to worry about what I'm wearing (although I have to be careful because the neighbor kids can stand on their roof and see into my courtyard), eat/drink when and what I want, etc. <br />
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My house is the house I blogged about earlier, but imagine my surprise when I came home from Essaouria (more about that later) and my landlord showed me he connected pipes so I now have water in my kitchen AND bathroom! I have 4 rooms, of which I only use 2 and have the others closed up. One is my room (which just had a bed now) and the other is a salon (with nothing yet). I also have a small courtyard where I plan to grow some herbs, flowers and a small kitchen. (<a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2370830&id=19214791&l=a966c2bd20">Pictures up on facebook</a>). It’s a great little house, taking some getting used to being alone at night (I still freak myself out sometimes) but I really like it. Eventually I want to paint but I’m thinking that’s going to be a Ramadan project. Its so weird to think this is home for the next two years…. <br />
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Other than the house I’ve been trying to integrate more and more in the community. Although having to buy everything for the house was a bit annoying it was good because it meant I had to spend more time in Souk. Souk is my main dowar and its where all the ‘businesses’ are, its also where our weekly market is help. I have to go through there for transport, etc but I don’t like to spend a lot of time there because honestly, it’s just awkward since females usually avoid the area. Talking to people where to buy things, buying them and trying to get transport back to my house gave me a reason to be there and the opportunity to talk to people I otherwise would have been a bit intimidated to do. Also, since I’d be living in another dowar I forgot how used to seeing me people became. But now? New dowar, back to square one. I still get the ‘bonjour’ from people, since they assume all foreigners are French (its funny because 99% of the people don’t know anything BUT bonjour but they insist on saying it to me). So I'm back to explaining to people I'm American, I live here, I work in health, I'm 23, not married (miskeena=poor thing), I don’t want to be married, I have two sisters..... blah blah blah. Its interesting because I know how to talk about those basic types of things really well, so sometimes they think my tashlheet is better than it is in the beginning and start talking really fast… then we have to back up and I have to explain I’ve only been studying it for 4 months (yeah--- can you believe it!? I’ve been here 4 MONTHS!)<br />
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I’ve also had the opportunity to visit both Marrakesh and Essaouria since last post. Both of those alone could be their own posts, but I’m sure I’ll return so I’ll fill you all in on those trips another time. Briefly though, I went to Essaouria for a music festival which was super fun. I got to meet a lot of other volunteers I wouldn’t have otherwise met. It’s crazy to think there are over 250 of us here in Morocco and some of us will never meet!! <br />
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Whewwww--- long post, sorry. Thanks if you’ve read the whole thing, I’ll try and get better are posting more often so they are not as long. Bslama! (go with piece, aka- goodbye!)Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813238973045736849.post-17121635433416378592010-06-19T11:15:00.000-07:002010-06-19T11:15:14.157-07:00Wait... so i'm not supposed to drink this water untreated like i have been for the last month??Man oh man, it’s been a while since I’ve blogged. My apologies for it being such a long break, got lots going on here and I’m trying to get settled into some sort of schedule. I finally have, just in time to move out on my own! This has been a huuuuge reason for my lack of posts and excessive stress. Internet has also been out here in the Mid-Atlas Mountains. I’m not really sure what’s going on since Andy (my site mate) lives only a dowar over and his internet is connecting. Mine, however seems to connect for about 30 minutes everyday and then safi (done). A bit annoying since I was used to being able to get on whenever I wanted before… <br />
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The last month has been a lot of looking for a house to live in here in Tidili and its proven to be quite a task. I’m looking for a house with at least one room, a salon (like a living room), kitchen, bathroom (which is really just a room with a Turkish toilet and if I’m lucky a faucet), running water and electricity. So far I have looked at a total of 7 houses, they either have all of the above but cost too much (Peace Corps allots me 600dh (about $73) per month for housing) or don’t have one of the above. I want a house near the main dowar- which is called Souk (yes, also the name for the weekly market, makes it a bit confusing sometimes) since this is where I’ll buy most of my meat, veggies, fruits, etc and also where my sbitar is located. The house that’s looking like its going to be the one (I’m running out of time here- only 12 days til I can move out) is located in a dowar about 2 K away from Souk, but there is not a paved road connecting the two so I have to walk through gardens and bushes to get to Souk. This is going to suck, especially when I’m trying to get all the initial things (like pots, pans, cups, plates, bed, fridge, oven, etc) into the house but it’s really my only option right now. The house has been home to 2 Peace Corps volunteers that were here sometime around 2001, has 4 rooms (HUGE!- I’ll prob only use 2 and lock up the others), a small kitchen, a garden area/courtyard and a small room which a Turkish toilet will soon be added. Other than the distance/location the other downfall to the house is it only had one faucet and its in an area next to the house that’s supposed to house animals (none there now) so I’ll have to carry buckets to wash dishes, cook, bath, brush my teeth, etc. I guess it’s just something I’ll have to get used too. I might be able to connect a long tube from the faucet to the kitchen but we’ll see if that’s more work than its worth. Due to my lack of housing I have also had to cancel my 4th of July party I wanted to have. Realistically I just cant have the house set up in time to have company, since I probably wont even have ponjs (Moroccan couches) for people to sleep on. I’m pretty bummed about that, but next 4th of July I’ll just have to have a BIGGER bash.<br />
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Everyday I’m in this country I learn more and more from the people around me. Sometimes I learn things about myself, sometimes about others and sometimes just random crap. <br />
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<ul><li>I received a package of goodies from my dad a few weeks ago. It ended up being quite the ordeal actually getting the package since the post office in Ourzazate (where our mail goes through) thought they needed to tax the crap out of the boxes and charge me over 1,000dh ($121.00) to pick them up. To give you an idea of how much money that is, I made 1,000Dh the entire month of May! So needless to say, A LOT of money. I went to Ourzazate and with the help of another volunteer whose language is AMAZING got them to drop the total price down to about 700Dh. Everything I do here is an adventure, including our trips to find the proper post office official (who ended up being drunk) to lower the price. The box was worth EVERY CENT as it’s been what’s keeping me from starving between bread, tagine and mushy rice (it was filled with warm clothes for winter and delicious American snacks). Lesson learned? If you want to send me a box (which you probably should) please make sure that you declare it a gift and ensure it is not listed as more then $50.00 value. </li>
<li>As stated in a previous post I was trying to get my body adjusted to the water so I wouldn’t have to deal with treating it, however I have since learned the hard way I need to treat it. About 2 weeks ago our water got a little murky, which is because its spring water, so I figured I’d be ok if I just drank a little. Well, about 3 hours later I was in the bitlma (bathroom) throwing up everything I’d eaten in the past few days. Let me tell you, throwing up in a small unsanitary hole is about as fun as having to go to the bathroom there. It was a LOOONG night in the bitlma and a terrible next day. I tried to explain to my family I was sick, but they were so worried about me not eating they kept bringing food and drinks to my room. The brought me cheese and coke (two VERY rare things in my house) and I was so grateful but I just couldn’t eat it. They checked on me every hour that day, they really are amazing people. The next day I was told over and over how I looked yellow, thanks family. Lesson learned? Treat the damn water! </li>
<li>In the past few weeks I also learned that my male nurse, Mohammed will be leaving us here in Tidili. I knew he wanted to leave but I was secretly hoping that he wouldn’t be able to since he’s such a great resource, speaking a bit of English and really wanting to run a clean, sanitary clinic (well as clean and sanitary as it can be in the mountains of Africa). However, he learned last week he is indeed leaving. He was gone for a few days while he was learning his new assignment and I was alone at the sbitar with Khadija. Wow, were things different. It’s so difficult to try and explain why you should do certain things (ex. Recapping and disposing of the needles separately- currently I’m trying to get her to throw them into a bottle of bleach until I can learn how to properly dispose of them) with my limited language and her being so used to doing things her way. Lesson learned: I have my work cut out for me, even more than I thought (I didn’t even think that was possible).</li>
</ul>Its so hard trying to decide what I want to blog about since every hour here in Morocco is such an experience. I really can’t do it justice with writing and pictures. I am so grateful for this experience I’m having here. There have been so many times I’ve woke up to the roosters outside or the woman singing in the fields and I just can’t believe THIS IS MY LIFE. Sometimes it’s tough, yes. But realistically, I’m living MY DREAM. This is what I’ve wanted my whole life- and I’m doing it. I’m living the dream and I couldn’t be happier.Angelicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14499531964780689948noreply@blogger.com5