I’m not quite sure just what to write about… so much has happened! I have moved into my new host family’s home at my site. It’s a mud house, but a huge one. My host father is one of the Shixh in the village. A shixh is a person of authority, kind of like a governor, only usually a little more personal. So, closer to a mayor, I suppose. There are several local levels of command. The moqadem, then shixh, and then qaid. And after that there are more that I don’t know about. J Anyway… we have two cows, two calves, 11 sheep and lambs, one ram, two goats, one donkey, one mule and three chickens. And one cat who is usually hiding. My family spends a lot of time going to gather alfalfa for the animals. They harvest a new small patch of field everyday (by hand), and pack it all onto the donkey’s back to get it back to the house. Sometimes the sheep go out to graze, but I’m not sure the cows ever do. It is good we have cows, though, because that means we have milk! Hooray!! I won’t become lactose intolerant from under exposure after all. I might become intolerant anyway, though, who can fathom the ways of the intestines?? Certainly not me!
Some things that have happened, since I can’t decide what to write about:
--I had a meeting with a bunch of volunteers from the Eastern High Atlas region: lots of fun, some good ideas and hopefully some hiking buddies later!
--Tried to show my host mother that I can milk a cow, but she is afraid it will kick me, and I don’t know how to tell her I’ve been kicked by a cow before, so it’s OK, it won’t kill me (probably).
--Went to a Berber wedding: fascinating ceremony, involving a mule and lots of dancing, I’ll put a separate entry up about weddings sometime. On a side note, I don’t know if I mentioned that I got married a few weeks ago? Just kidding!! We had a mock wedding at training, and two "couples" got married. Somehow I ended up being one of the brides, and was completely decked out in Arabic finery. Pictures will follow at some point… The other girl was dressed like a Berber bride. The big plus from this is that if I need to claim to be married in the future, I won’t exactly be lying!!
--Biked 40 km to my souk town: a gorgeous ride, very remote, so I carried all sorts of tools just in case my bike got a flat or something truly irritating like that.
--Helped my host brother take our sheep out to graze. Fairly entertaining... the goats are sneaky.
--Made friends with our donkey. She’s very shy.
--The highlight of today is when I broke the tap in our kitchen. I am not at all sure how it happened, I was just turning it on to get some water when the whole handle just came off! With water flying everywhere as I frantically tried to screw it back in, I was thinking, "how come there is water pressure only when I don’t need it???" I almost got it back in, but then it came off totally with a spectacular shooting of water into the air and I realized that the sink drain was clogged… perfect… I tried to plunge it with the handy-dandy sink plunger nearby on the counter but no go… so now not only is water flying everywhere but the sink is a mere minute or two from overflowing, no end in sight… I try yelling for help but no one is in earshot and I cannot seem to stop the flowing fountain… so I put a big clay dish under the tap (think massive 2 ft. across and 4 in. deep clay dish) and sprint down the dark, unevenly huge spiral stairs to find someone, anyone… run out the front door and find my host father chumming around with some friends, I am yelling and telling him to (follows a rough translation of what I said) "Come! Now! Tap, kitchen, water, everywhere!!! Lets go! Now! Come ON lets go!! Now!!!!" Finally he understands my urgency (or maybe it was my soaking wet clothing) and comes up, screws the stupid thing in and the water stops. None too soon, either, as my makeshift water-catcher is filled to the brim. We sweep the water into the drain, and I go change and then go to meet the Qaid. Did I mention I was trying to hurry to a meeting the whole time? I have resolved never to use that tap again. Which leaves only one question: how on earth did I break it in the first place???
--My host father wants me to become a Muslim. Fortunately, I just learned the word for Christianity, so now he really wants me to become a Muslim. I predict many conversations about this… perhaps at some point I will succeed in convincing him that I do, in fact, greatly enjoy my choice of spirituality and that it’s great! Really! All without giving the appearance of proselytizing… a bit of a tightrope walk.
--I hope and pray each day that somehow the lightning fast conversations will magically begin to make real sense instead of bits and pieces here and there, but I know that it will instead require steady practice… I seem to be improving, anyway, which is encouraging.
--They have something like chapatti here! (Shout out to all you who know and love chapatti…) It’s called misms in Arabic and rrumtfos in Tashellhit/Tamazight. And it’s at least twice as big as Tanzanian chapatti. Usually served with more butter than I care for but I got one without any today! Delicious!!
Peace and joy to you all. In Jesus’ name… because I can say it here. J
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
May 12, 2008
We presented our final project today! This the first actual project that I have done with Moroccans, and really the first formal environmental education project that I have completed. It is also likely to be the only one for quite a while. My site is a new one to Peace Corps, and so is unlikely to be ready for a project in the first few months of my service. Instead I will be relearning Tamazight…
But back to the project! I am very excited about it, mostly because we actually managed to pull it off. I had my doubts, mostly in technology coming through for us. And while it was quite stressful, we were able to actually pull it off. So, the project!
We decided to work with the local school in my training site. We needed to do an environmental education project, and we needed to do it in about two weeks time. My language teacher has experience in making films for educational purposes, and had the necessary editing software with him. With his ideas and some group brainstorming, we came up with a good storyline for a movie. Then, we planned out some in-class environmental education to go along with it. The movie and the in-class EE were both targeted to increase awareness about trash management and water conservation, and to get the kids excited about actually doing so.
The storyline is as follows:
The students are sitting in class, where the teacher is teaching them a passage from the Haddith about the importance of conserving trees. As one student is reciting the Haddith, crying interrupts the class. No child is crying, so the whole class leaves to search for who it is. They search the classroom, and then go outside to search the grounds. Finally, they find a small tree who is crying. Why are you crying they ask, and the trees answers: because there is trash on the ground all around me, and it makes me sad. Can you help me, it asks. Yes! The children reply and pick up the trash. We then go through this scene another time, only this time the tree is crying because there is no water in the ground and it is thirsty. So, then the children go and turn off the tap that they had left running.
The best part of this all was a tie between two things. Firstly, when we came back after shooting it and showed them the movie, they were very excited about it, especially to see themselves on the screne! Secondly, when we were shooting, it was so much fun to watch the kids gain in confidence over time. They all started out very shy, but eventually they became more confident, actually acting the parts and even having fun with it. One boy in particular set the mood for the whole film with how convincingly he delivered his one small line. We also tried to have just as many girls as boys involved, so we split up the speaking parts between people.
So now we have only to get them a copy of the the film. Hopefully they will find a way to watch it again, becuase we are givng them a CD/DVD, which isnùt the most appropriate of technologies, but it is the best that we can do.
In any event, it was a lot of fun, and hopefully the kids learned something, or found some enthusiasm for actively preserving their resources. Hooray!
We presented our final project today! This the first actual project that I have done with Moroccans, and really the first formal environmental education project that I have completed. It is also likely to be the only one for quite a while. My site is a new one to Peace Corps, and so is unlikely to be ready for a project in the first few months of my service. Instead I will be relearning Tamazight…
But back to the project! I am very excited about it, mostly because we actually managed to pull it off. I had my doubts, mostly in technology coming through for us. And while it was quite stressful, we were able to actually pull it off. So, the project!
We decided to work with the local school in my training site. We needed to do an environmental education project, and we needed to do it in about two weeks time. My language teacher has experience in making films for educational purposes, and had the necessary editing software with him. With his ideas and some group brainstorming, we came up with a good storyline for a movie. Then, we planned out some in-class environmental education to go along with it. The movie and the in-class EE were both targeted to increase awareness about trash management and water conservation, and to get the kids excited about actually doing so.
The storyline is as follows:
The students are sitting in class, where the teacher is teaching them a passage from the Haddith about the importance of conserving trees. As one student is reciting the Haddith, crying interrupts the class. No child is crying, so the whole class leaves to search for who it is. They search the classroom, and then go outside to search the grounds. Finally, they find a small tree who is crying. Why are you crying they ask, and the trees answers: because there is trash on the ground all around me, and it makes me sad. Can you help me, it asks. Yes! The children reply and pick up the trash. We then go through this scene another time, only this time the tree is crying because there is no water in the ground and it is thirsty. So, then the children go and turn off the tap that they had left running.
The best part of this all was a tie between two things. Firstly, when we came back after shooting it and showed them the movie, they were very excited about it, especially to see themselves on the screne! Secondly, when we were shooting, it was so much fun to watch the kids gain in confidence over time. They all started out very shy, but eventually they became more confident, actually acting the parts and even having fun with it. One boy in particular set the mood for the whole film with how convincingly he delivered his one small line. We also tried to have just as many girls as boys involved, so we split up the speaking parts between people.
So now we have only to get them a copy of the the film. Hopefully they will find a way to watch it again, becuase we are givng them a CD/DVD, which isnùt the most appropriate of technologies, but it is the best that we can do.
In any event, it was a lot of fun, and hopefully the kids learned something, or found some enthusiasm for actively preserving their resources. Hooray!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Dialects
So, about dialects.
Dialects are a thing of evil, created specifically to cause weeping and gnashing of teeth in the hearts of all Peace Corps volunteers in Morocco. Well, not quite. I actually think it’s cool how language changes and evolves when distance, mountains or whathaveyou separate people from each other. Be that as it may, the language that people speak in my site is quite different from the language that I have been spending the last 2 months trying to learn. Hence my initial frustration.
However, I have since realized that it’s not as different as I originally thought. Also, there are good things about the dialects, too. They’re beautiful. Just listen to anyone from Glasgow or the Deep South speak English. It’s beautiful. I suppose once I speak these well enough I might find a deeper appreciation for the beauty of the dialects in Tamazight as well.
The thing with language in Morocco is its fluidity. It’s REALLY different from place to place. Moroccan Arabic is pretty consistent throughout, but that in and of itself is a dialect of Arabic. Classical Arabic is also spoken in certain situations. French is also widely spoken. And then there are the Berber languages/dialects. They are called dilects, but are (as far as I can tell) completely different from each other. People speaking one cannot communicate to people speaking in another. Instead they resort to Moroccan Arabic (Darija). The dialects are three: Tashelhit, Tamazight, and Tarafit. Within each of those there are MANY dialects. Further, some who technically speak Tam claim to speak Tash. So, it’s all rather confusing.
Interestingly, these dialects survived quite a few years in Morocco even when they were technically illegal to speak. The Arabs had control of the country, and made it a law that everyone should speak Arabic. They were trying to get the Berber out of the Berbers, for many reasons, some religious in nature, while others were more for reasons of political control. However, Berber survived in the remote mountains. Certain aspects have mostly disappeared, though. Their number system is all but gone, and the written script has been largely forgotten. This is changing though, as "Berber Pride" has become more and more popular. They use the last symbol of the Berber alphabet as their symbol. And all Berber children now have a least some exposure to Tifinagh, the script, in school. This is one of the many things that have changed in recent years in Morocco. I am really glad to find that people are embracing their old culture… it’s encouraging! In an era of globalization, you have to be really intentional about preserving cultural heritage, or it just fades away.
So, really, I am happy that I have to learn an obscure, difficult dialect of a language spoken by very few people… it’s just that right now I the lazy part of me wishes it were a little bit easier. J
Dialects are a thing of evil, created specifically to cause weeping and gnashing of teeth in the hearts of all Peace Corps volunteers in Morocco. Well, not quite. I actually think it’s cool how language changes and evolves when distance, mountains or whathaveyou separate people from each other. Be that as it may, the language that people speak in my site is quite different from the language that I have been spending the last 2 months trying to learn. Hence my initial frustration.
However, I have since realized that it’s not as different as I originally thought. Also, there are good things about the dialects, too. They’re beautiful. Just listen to anyone from Glasgow or the Deep South speak English. It’s beautiful. I suppose once I speak these well enough I might find a deeper appreciation for the beauty of the dialects in Tamazight as well.
The thing with language in Morocco is its fluidity. It’s REALLY different from place to place. Moroccan Arabic is pretty consistent throughout, but that in and of itself is a dialect of Arabic. Classical Arabic is also spoken in certain situations. French is also widely spoken. And then there are the Berber languages/dialects. They are called dilects, but are (as far as I can tell) completely different from each other. People speaking one cannot communicate to people speaking in another. Instead they resort to Moroccan Arabic (Darija). The dialects are three: Tashelhit, Tamazight, and Tarafit. Within each of those there are MANY dialects. Further, some who technically speak Tam claim to speak Tash. So, it’s all rather confusing.
Interestingly, these dialects survived quite a few years in Morocco even when they were technically illegal to speak. The Arabs had control of the country, and made it a law that everyone should speak Arabic. They were trying to get the Berber out of the Berbers, for many reasons, some religious in nature, while others were more for reasons of political control. However, Berber survived in the remote mountains. Certain aspects have mostly disappeared, though. Their number system is all but gone, and the written script has been largely forgotten. This is changing though, as "Berber Pride" has become more and more popular. They use the last symbol of the Berber alphabet as their symbol. And all Berber children now have a least some exposure to Tifinagh, the script, in school. This is one of the many things that have changed in recent years in Morocco. I am really glad to find that people are embracing their old culture… it’s encouraging! In an era of globalization, you have to be really intentional about preserving cultural heritage, or it just fades away.
So, really, I am happy that I have to learn an obscure, difficult dialect of a language spoken by very few people… it’s just that right now I the lazy part of me wishes it were a little bit easier. J
Site Visit
Site Visit!
I have actually been to the site where I will be staying for the next 2 years, Inshallah. Hooray!!! It was very exciting to actually be on a bus on the way. It is very far away from our training site. It took two very full days of travel to get there. If we were allowed to travel at night, it would have been shorter, but it is not very safe at night, and to Peace Corps doesn’t allow that… For good reason, really, since the incidence of car accidents goes up a lot at night, and Morocco has some of the most dangerous roads to be found on the planet. Or so it seems… I haven’t actually looked at any statistics, but even Moroccans I’ve talked to will say the same.
As we drove up to my site, the landscape went from hilly, gully filled desert to flat, arid plains that are almost desert, almost grassland… the mountains on my left hand as we drove north. We went over mountains, and then back to the plain. Wide open and dry and hazy from all the dust in the air. I admit that a few times a thought drifted across my mind: wow I hope there’s more greenery in my actual site. Arriving in my souk-town, 40 k from my actual village it was still flat plains, dry and dusty and already quite hot. And it wasn’t even May yet. And then waited for the transit to go… we waited for a couple hours. I was traveling with a Moroccan woman, very sweet person, who was being my translator for the introduction to my host family. We got into the transit, and then went up, and up and over, and up and up and over and then finally, around one more foothill, and we were between the mountains of the Middle Atlas, and there is my little village, tucked between huge peaks of stone and scrub. Along a river, mud houses (think adobe) and well-established fields in by the river. Green! Huge mountains!! I am so lucky.
I have actually been to the site where I will be staying for the next 2 years, Inshallah. Hooray!!! It was very exciting to actually be on a bus on the way. It is very far away from our training site. It took two very full days of travel to get there. If we were allowed to travel at night, it would have been shorter, but it is not very safe at night, and to Peace Corps doesn’t allow that… For good reason, really, since the incidence of car accidents goes up a lot at night, and Morocco has some of the most dangerous roads to be found on the planet. Or so it seems… I haven’t actually looked at any statistics, but even Moroccans I’ve talked to will say the same.
As we drove up to my site, the landscape went from hilly, gully filled desert to flat, arid plains that are almost desert, almost grassland… the mountains on my left hand as we drove north. We went over mountains, and then back to the plain. Wide open and dry and hazy from all the dust in the air. I admit that a few times a thought drifted across my mind: wow I hope there’s more greenery in my actual site. Arriving in my souk-town, 40 k from my actual village it was still flat plains, dry and dusty and already quite hot. And it wasn’t even May yet. And then waited for the transit to go… we waited for a couple hours. I was traveling with a Moroccan woman, very sweet person, who was being my translator for the introduction to my host family. We got into the transit, and then went up, and up and over, and up and up and over and then finally, around one more foothill, and we were between the mountains of the Middle Atlas, and there is my little village, tucked between huge peaks of stone and scrub. Along a river, mud houses (think adobe) and well-established fields in by the river. Green! Huge mountains!! I am so lucky.
21/04/2008
Extremism
As I write this, I want to paint a clear picture. I also want to do it in such a way that I am understood… here goes.
For the first time I have experienced what I would really call "culture shock." Not just a feeling of things being weird and a little out of place, but straight up shocking.
I had an encounter with a gentleman of extremely conservative religious belief. There are people in the Islamic faith who choose not touch, talk to, or sometimes even look at people of the opposite gender. Now, before this gets blown out of proportion, I would like to remind people back home that there are extremists in the Christian faith who would rather ignore someone because of their sexual orientation than give them the time of day. Not very many, but they exist (more’s the pity). My point being, there are people who take things to the extreme in all places.
One of the extremes here is that, as a female, there are a few men with whom I cannot work with because they refuse to work with me. Or talk to me. Or hold a conversation with me. Or even look at me. Thankfully, they are few and far between here. Morocco is a moderate Islamic country. Here, women do have rights, by law. Some of them are very new, but they are on the books. And, I hear, mostly enforced. Here, most people, even very religious people, are very happy to shake hands with, talk to and work with people of the opposite sex. Even people who choose not to touch the opposite sex are often willing and happy to work with people of the opposite sex, as long as there is no need to touch each other. Wherein a greeting is merely verbal instead of an extended handshake or kissing-of-the-cheek (just like in France, Tanzania, or Spain) as it is with the majority of the population.
So.
Surprising, shocking, even. But when there are countries where women cannot do anything outside of their home without the consent of their male guardian, what have I to complain about?
As I write this, I want to paint a clear picture. I also want to do it in such a way that I am understood… here goes.
For the first time I have experienced what I would really call "culture shock." Not just a feeling of things being weird and a little out of place, but straight up shocking.
I had an encounter with a gentleman of extremely conservative religious belief. There are people in the Islamic faith who choose not touch, talk to, or sometimes even look at people of the opposite gender. Now, before this gets blown out of proportion, I would like to remind people back home that there are extremists in the Christian faith who would rather ignore someone because of their sexual orientation than give them the time of day. Not very many, but they exist (more’s the pity). My point being, there are people who take things to the extreme in all places.
One of the extremes here is that, as a female, there are a few men with whom I cannot work with because they refuse to work with me. Or talk to me. Or hold a conversation with me. Or even look at me. Thankfully, they are few and far between here. Morocco is a moderate Islamic country. Here, women do have rights, by law. Some of them are very new, but they are on the books. And, I hear, mostly enforced. Here, most people, even very religious people, are very happy to shake hands with, talk to and work with people of the opposite sex. Even people who choose not to touch the opposite sex are often willing and happy to work with people of the opposite sex, as long as there is no need to touch each other. Wherein a greeting is merely verbal instead of an extended handshake or kissing-of-the-cheek (just like in France, Tanzania, or Spain) as it is with the majority of the population.
So.
Surprising, shocking, even. But when there are countries where women cannot do anything outside of their home without the consent of their male guardian, what have I to complain about?
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