An Eulogy of Sorts
I have lost one of my kittens. I will post a picture of both of them here. The tabby one’s name was Sean or Knuzzle, and the other’s name is Travis or Trouble.
About a week ago, I and my friend Adrienne (who was visiting) woke up and began making breakfast when we heard a strange sound. I turned to watch the younger of my two kittens, Knuzzle, vomit a strange yellow liquid. I cleaned it up and remarked that I hope he wasn’t sick, or that he hadn’t eaten something rotten. You see, he had been perfectly rambunctiously normal the night before. I thought he would rid himself of whatever it was and be fine. But as the day progressed he continued to vomit every few hours, and refused to eat or drink. I began to worry that perhaps he was getting dangerously dehydrated. But I didn’t know what it was, still hoping that it would pass in good time. All through the night he continued to vomit at intervals, looking more and more depressed and tired. The following morning I contemplated going to Outat L-Haj for to see the veterinarian there, but instead opted to call the Canadian vet in Fez. Who was spectacularly unhelpful. Increasingly worried, I watched my little Knuzzle deteriorate. He lost weight, he hid from us. I went out and got the number of another veterinarian, and tried to call him. No answer. I had to go to a meeting with my ladies, and because of this I did not take the last transit into town… later that evening, Adrienne and I watched my little kitten struggle into death. I wrapped him in a cloth with teddy bears on it. I cried. I cuddled my remaining kitten.
The next morning Adrienne and I awoke to a most unwelcome noise: my second kitten had contracted whatever it was. I made my decision without deliberating, put my cat into a box with a soft cloth, packed a backpack and caught the first transit to Outat. Adrienne graciously agreed to teach English to 30 plus kids-without knowing more than 5 words of the local language-so I could go try to save the life of Trouble. I went to my host family’s house in Outat, and my Aunt of some sort agreed to go with me to the vets so as to translate for me from Tashelheit to Moroccan Arabic. The vet had to be called in, and when he came he seemed unconcerned. He gave Trouble 5 mL of some drug and told me to feed him up. We dropped Trouble off at my family’s house, and I, slightly hopeful, went to the cyber to look up the name of the drug. It turned out to be sorbitol, a sugar-alcohol that is often used in make-up. And therefore of little use to him… So I put Google to work for me, and looked up cat diseases. Before long I had made an educated guess based upon my observations and the list of symptoms and the high mortality rate. (Note: two other kittens had recently died of similar symptoms next door). Decision: Feline Distemper, or Feline Leukopenia (CHECK THIS SPELLING). Mortality rate over 60%. I went and purchased some meds and learned how to give a cat a shot (the skin is a whole lot thinner than a cows… obviously…). I proceeded to try to nurse him back to health. With the help of my host sister, my host aunt, and later Adrienne, we have gotten him past the 5 day mark of probable survival, but he still refuses to eat. I am so so so so thankful to everyone who helped, consoled, and encouraged me… Adrienne, Anthony, Natalie, Erin, my parents, Johnny, Liz, Nate, and Sarah.
It’s interesting: animals become so important to us as companions. I am grateful that he has survived this far… I am now certain that living alone is less than ideal, though perfectly workable, for me. I hope and pray my little buddy will pull through and beat the stats.
Note: I am happy to report that Trouble has made it to day 7 and has begun eating and drinking small amounts on his own!!! Just getting him this far is a fantastic thing, I only hope he continues to improve. :)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Christmas, post from dec # 3
Christmas was fun. It was also an adventure to figure out how I was going to celebrate this holiday with others who also celebrate it. So, I and several friends planned to meet in Midelt, at the (I believe Franciscan) monastary there. We gathered on Christmas Eve, and headed right out to the monastary. What an amazing place! These monks 5 of them, live and work there with the people in Midelt and the surrounding area. They mostly seem to work with artisns to help them promote their products for sale. Tey also provide a wonderfully welcoming place for pilgrims and Christians to celebrate holidays, go on pilgrimages and generally practice that religion in a community, as it is meant to be practiced.
Thus, they asked no payment for the rooms, beds, bathrooms, food and drinks that they provided for us and several other visitors over Christmas. Donations were made but not because they were requested, but because they were so deserved! We all went to Christmas Eve mass, all 2 plus hours of it in French. Some of the songs were familiar, some not. Much of the ceremony was unfamiliar to me, but the two catholics in our number did their best to explain how things worked to us of Protestant background. I particularly appreciated the fact that I was welcomed for communion. It made me feel welcomed and at home and right. Thank you!!
After the service we gathered for cookies and hot chocolate, delicious! The following day we rose just in time for breakfast, went to another service and then had a delicious lunch complete with salads and... wine? It was so strange to be presented with this evidence that the Christian religion doesn not view alcoholic beverages in the same way the Muslim religion does... :)
After saying a sad goodbye and a heartfelt thanks to the monks we continued to the home of another Peace Corps volunteer to make a delicious dinner of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, stuffing, apple pie, pumpkin bread and corn bread. Mmmm... happy tummy memories!
The following morning some of us headed back to our respective homes, while others stayed a while longer. I was lucky enough to host one of my friends at my house on his way back from Christmas, extending the holiday spirit another day!!
In general, it was great!! So wonderful to be a part of that tradition even in a culture centered around different traditions. A little like going home! Next year perhaps I will try to hold a pre-Christmas celebration for a little cross-cultural exchange in my village, we will see! Some people requested to be a part of that next year.
So, yeah, hooray for a Merry Christmas!
Thus, they asked no payment for the rooms, beds, bathrooms, food and drinks that they provided for us and several other visitors over Christmas. Donations were made but not because they were requested, but because they were so deserved! We all went to Christmas Eve mass, all 2 plus hours of it in French. Some of the songs were familiar, some not. Much of the ceremony was unfamiliar to me, but the two catholics in our number did their best to explain how things worked to us of Protestant background. I particularly appreciated the fact that I was welcomed for communion. It made me feel welcomed and at home and right. Thank you!!
After the service we gathered for cookies and hot chocolate, delicious! The following day we rose just in time for breakfast, went to another service and then had a delicious lunch complete with salads and... wine? It was so strange to be presented with this evidence that the Christian religion doesn not view alcoholic beverages in the same way the Muslim religion does... :)
After saying a sad goodbye and a heartfelt thanks to the monks we continued to the home of another Peace Corps volunteer to make a delicious dinner of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, stuffing, apple pie, pumpkin bread and corn bread. Mmmm... happy tummy memories!
The following morning some of us headed back to our respective homes, while others stayed a while longer. I was lucky enough to host one of my friends at my house on his way back from Christmas, extending the holiday spirit another day!!
In general, it was great!! So wonderful to be a part of that tradition even in a culture centered around different traditions. A little like going home! Next year perhaps I will try to hold a pre-Christmas celebration for a little cross-cultural exchange in my village, we will see! Some people requested to be a part of that next year.
So, yeah, hooray for a Merry Christmas!
post from dec #2
Of Loneliness --early December
1) I’m usually not the one who is homesick. I have traveled much in my life, and I love it. I am used to being away from home, and loved ones. Distance does change things. I remember being in Tanzania, and realizing there (just about literally half the world away from home) that distance does make a difference. Somehow, though it seems like it shouldn’t, you miss folks more. Well, time makes a difference too. Yes, I saw this coming. But its still somewhat unexpected… or rather, what I miss is unexpected. My family of course, but also places. Seeing the sunset from my parents’ house, the Havens’ Homestead (sorry guys, but you do have that sign! And you know I love it), Madeline Island, Hope Community Church and my alma mater, Macalester. And then other places even less expected: Dar es Salaam, my research campsite by the Serengeti, the Boundary Waters, the flippin’ highway between certain places… I think I miss green. And sunsets. Though I have really come to appreciate the beauty of the clouds reflecting the suns light as it finally sinks behind the horizon hidden by the huge mountains surrounding the village. Sometimes the light somehow comes around the backside of the mountain and turns the snow up there the same color as the clouds. It’s so beautiful!! I love these mountains, denuded and forbidding though they are. You could also say bold and majestic in their simplicity and starkness.
2) Intellectual isolation caught me off guard. A lifetime of listening to my father talk about physics, politics and whatever else catches his eye, of reading good books and talking them over with family and friends, the blessing of smart and creative people as my friends, 4 rich years surrounded by intelligent and caring people at Macalester, and then finally a similar situation during training here… how little I realized how much value that had in my life! Not to say that people here are not intelligent, not at all!! There are some super sharp cookies here! But relatively few have ventured into high school, and far fewer into higher education, fewer still have seen other cultures and places. Especially women, those who I spend most of my time with. Conversation is gossip, clothes, the cost of food, the weather, and family. All worthy topics to be sure, but sometimes I just wish for more! Yes, I know, that’s what cell phones and other PCVs are for. And truly, I do call and talk to them every now and then. Every now and then.
3) "Lonely for a doe." Watership Down, anyone? Maybe it’s the constant (and I mean CONSTANT) questions about whether I’m married, when I will be married, and to whom, or maybe it’s just the lack of males I am close to physically around me. I have lived almost my entire life in a co-ed situation. I grew up with my brother. I always lived on mixed gender floors or in a mixed gender house during college. I have had pretty close male friends almost constantly since high school. Thus, to have no men to hang with, talk with, mix with is… strange and not exactly to my liking. I can’t help thinking we were made male and female to complement each other. Nope, I don’t need a man, as people here sometimes put it, but gee, it sure would be nice!
4) The act of being alone. Strange to say, at the same time I feel lonely here, I often feel the need to be alone here. Go for a walk with the trees for company. Or rocks and aromatic bushes as the case may be… hole myself up in my house and work on my mending, or my shelves, or read books. Tolstoy right now, and lots of him. People here don’t do alone. They don’t sleep alone, don’t walk alone, don’t work alone if they can help it. It’s great, because if I want to I can just drop in and hang out (provided there is the proper ratio of male to female adults around). But that means I am constantly on alert, working hard to understand what is said around me, to respond in the context of their culture and language, to represent my culture, religion, country and organization (well) and to be alert to opportunities for educational/work-related conversations. It’s a bit tiring. So I retreat to my (cold) house with my (warm and mischievous) kittens to let myself just be myself. Or I pick a direction and start walking.
1) I’m usually not the one who is homesick. I have traveled much in my life, and I love it. I am used to being away from home, and loved ones. Distance does change things. I remember being in Tanzania, and realizing there (just about literally half the world away from home) that distance does make a difference. Somehow, though it seems like it shouldn’t, you miss folks more. Well, time makes a difference too. Yes, I saw this coming. But its still somewhat unexpected… or rather, what I miss is unexpected. My family of course, but also places. Seeing the sunset from my parents’ house, the Havens’ Homestead (sorry guys, but you do have that sign! And you know I love it), Madeline Island, Hope Community Church and my alma mater, Macalester. And then other places even less expected: Dar es Salaam, my research campsite by the Serengeti, the Boundary Waters, the flippin’ highway between certain places… I think I miss green. And sunsets. Though I have really come to appreciate the beauty of the clouds reflecting the suns light as it finally sinks behind the horizon hidden by the huge mountains surrounding the village. Sometimes the light somehow comes around the backside of the mountain and turns the snow up there the same color as the clouds. It’s so beautiful!! I love these mountains, denuded and forbidding though they are. You could also say bold and majestic in their simplicity and starkness.
2) Intellectual isolation caught me off guard. A lifetime of listening to my father talk about physics, politics and whatever else catches his eye, of reading good books and talking them over with family and friends, the blessing of smart and creative people as my friends, 4 rich years surrounded by intelligent and caring people at Macalester, and then finally a similar situation during training here… how little I realized how much value that had in my life! Not to say that people here are not intelligent, not at all!! There are some super sharp cookies here! But relatively few have ventured into high school, and far fewer into higher education, fewer still have seen other cultures and places. Especially women, those who I spend most of my time with. Conversation is gossip, clothes, the cost of food, the weather, and family. All worthy topics to be sure, but sometimes I just wish for more! Yes, I know, that’s what cell phones and other PCVs are for. And truly, I do call and talk to them every now and then. Every now and then.
3) "Lonely for a doe." Watership Down, anyone? Maybe it’s the constant (and I mean CONSTANT) questions about whether I’m married, when I will be married, and to whom, or maybe it’s just the lack of males I am close to physically around me. I have lived almost my entire life in a co-ed situation. I grew up with my brother. I always lived on mixed gender floors or in a mixed gender house during college. I have had pretty close male friends almost constantly since high school. Thus, to have no men to hang with, talk with, mix with is… strange and not exactly to my liking. I can’t help thinking we were made male and female to complement each other. Nope, I don’t need a man, as people here sometimes put it, but gee, it sure would be nice!
4) The act of being alone. Strange to say, at the same time I feel lonely here, I often feel the need to be alone here. Go for a walk with the trees for company. Or rocks and aromatic bushes as the case may be… hole myself up in my house and work on my mending, or my shelves, or read books. Tolstoy right now, and lots of him. People here don’t do alone. They don’t sleep alone, don’t walk alone, don’t work alone if they can help it. It’s great, because if I want to I can just drop in and hang out (provided there is the proper ratio of male to female adults around). But that means I am constantly on alert, working hard to understand what is said around me, to respond in the context of their culture and language, to represent my culture, religion, country and organization (well) and to be alert to opportunities for educational/work-related conversations. It’s a bit tiring. So I retreat to my (cold) house with my (warm and mischievous) kittens to let myself just be myself. Or I pick a direction and start walking.
post # 1 from december
December 11, 2008
The past few days I have been going from house to house to house all day long, greeting people with the special greeting reserved for the big holidays here: "Mbruk L3id!" It is the largest festival of the year, L3id Amqrant. It lasts 3 days, or 5 days, or 10 days depending on who you ask. Formally three days I think, judging from the number of people who have told me that. This is important information for me, because I need to know just how much time I have to try to go to the house of everyone I know and greet them and be persuaded to sit down and have tea and a kabab or two and maybe some bread and olive oil… in other words there is a whole lot of eating going on here! And I have learned (once again) that there is a definite limit to how much protein + oil + fat that I can eat and digest happily. Unfortunately I do not know exactly where that limit falls… and marinated kebabs made of just-slaughtered-this-morning-lamb happen to be delicious! So I just try to pace myself…
Interestingly, yesterday and today I kept getting asked about how things work in the US. Ie. are your children yuar (troublesome) too? Do wives fight with their husbands in the US? Yes, and yes. Or, perhaps more accurately, there are difficult children and easy children everywhere, and I imagine most wives and husbands run up against each other at least once and a while. Being two separate people and all… Not having the time, I didn’t go into detail. That is to say, yes we have difficult children, but there is a slightly different ethic of discipline. I’ll describe the way it is here since that is easier for me to put into words. When a child is young here, they are more or less (depending on the family) the center of the planet. Even moreso if they are male. And the favorite method for making a child to stop crying is to give them what they want. The predictable result is that they become quite spoiled. At least for a while… in most families, this is balanced by the fact that they child slowly learns that everyone else is equally (or slightly less equally if they are female) entitled to what they want as well. The importance of family and community is slowly taught to the child. I wonder if a lack of contentment is also taught, but I’m not so sure about that. It seems to work alright for the most part.
Of course, there are children who are just spoiled too. The children that prompted the question are two of the most spoiled little one I have ever seen. A little boy and his older sister girl, who are constantly vying for the attention of everyone around, and are especially concerned with getting as much or more as their sibling… for example, we sat down for the evening snack (kaskarot) and the hostess put down a plate of cookies. The little boy had been sitting there sipping his tea with a taunting eye on his sister (who had none… remember tea here is so sweet it might as well be soda) when he spotted the cookies. It was classic! His face lit up and he said "Gateau!" or "Cookies!" And proceeded to grab handfuls. His sister was right behind them, and soon they had half the plate in their collective possession… leaving the rest of us (four or five people) to the rest. Fortunately, the hostess (not their mother) is a no-nonsense kind of women. "Ee-HEE!" she said (that means no). "You get only one at a time!" And she grabbed the whole lot of them out of both of their hands and then handed each back one. No tears, they know not to mess with this woman. Contrast the screams and tears when their mother mediated a fight over actual soda the day before. In a word, piercing. It reminded me so of Captains Courageous, when the little boy is so spoiled in the beginning!! Its interesting, because their mother gets mad at them for behaving poorly, but doesn’t get after them until they cross a certain line, nor does she respond when other people point out her children’s misbehavior. She only disciplines what she sees. I am certain that there are mothers like this in the US, even though I haven’t had the opportunity to observe them so closely. As I still do not (to my frustration) understand the whole of what is said the whole of the time, I have plenty of opportunity for careful observation!
The past few days I have been going from house to house to house all day long, greeting people with the special greeting reserved for the big holidays here: "Mbruk L3id!" It is the largest festival of the year, L3id Amqrant. It lasts 3 days, or 5 days, or 10 days depending on who you ask. Formally three days I think, judging from the number of people who have told me that. This is important information for me, because I need to know just how much time I have to try to go to the house of everyone I know and greet them and be persuaded to sit down and have tea and a kabab or two and maybe some bread and olive oil… in other words there is a whole lot of eating going on here! And I have learned (once again) that there is a definite limit to how much protein + oil + fat that I can eat and digest happily. Unfortunately I do not know exactly where that limit falls… and marinated kebabs made of just-slaughtered-this-morning-lamb happen to be delicious! So I just try to pace myself…
Interestingly, yesterday and today I kept getting asked about how things work in the US. Ie. are your children yuar (troublesome) too? Do wives fight with their husbands in the US? Yes, and yes. Or, perhaps more accurately, there are difficult children and easy children everywhere, and I imagine most wives and husbands run up against each other at least once and a while. Being two separate people and all… Not having the time, I didn’t go into detail. That is to say, yes we have difficult children, but there is a slightly different ethic of discipline. I’ll describe the way it is here since that is easier for me to put into words. When a child is young here, they are more or less (depending on the family) the center of the planet. Even moreso if they are male. And the favorite method for making a child to stop crying is to give them what they want. The predictable result is that they become quite spoiled. At least for a while… in most families, this is balanced by the fact that they child slowly learns that everyone else is equally (or slightly less equally if they are female) entitled to what they want as well. The importance of family and community is slowly taught to the child. I wonder if a lack of contentment is also taught, but I’m not so sure about that. It seems to work alright for the most part.
Of course, there are children who are just spoiled too. The children that prompted the question are two of the most spoiled little one I have ever seen. A little boy and his older sister girl, who are constantly vying for the attention of everyone around, and are especially concerned with getting as much or more as their sibling… for example, we sat down for the evening snack (kaskarot) and the hostess put down a plate of cookies. The little boy had been sitting there sipping his tea with a taunting eye on his sister (who had none… remember tea here is so sweet it might as well be soda) when he spotted the cookies. It was classic! His face lit up and he said "Gateau!" or "Cookies!" And proceeded to grab handfuls. His sister was right behind them, and soon they had half the plate in their collective possession… leaving the rest of us (four or five people) to the rest. Fortunately, the hostess (not their mother) is a no-nonsense kind of women. "Ee-HEE!" she said (that means no). "You get only one at a time!" And she grabbed the whole lot of them out of both of their hands and then handed each back one. No tears, they know not to mess with this woman. Contrast the screams and tears when their mother mediated a fight over actual soda the day before. In a word, piercing. It reminded me so of Captains Courageous, when the little boy is so spoiled in the beginning!! Its interesting, because their mother gets mad at them for behaving poorly, but doesn’t get after them until they cross a certain line, nor does she respond when other people point out her children’s misbehavior. She only disciplines what she sees. I am certain that there are mothers like this in the US, even though I haven’t had the opportunity to observe them so closely. As I still do not (to my frustration) understand the whole of what is said the whole of the time, I have plenty of opportunity for careful observation!
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