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
Saturday, May 3, 2008
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?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
time
so, we are technically about halfway through our training now. somehow, though, the end seems to be coming faster and faster and faster; we find our our site assignments in less than a week!!!!!! i am incredibly excited and nervous to find out where i will be. part of me would like ot avoid being in snowy areas, but that is pretty much impossible at this point: my language assignment indicates that i will probably be in the middle and high atlas, where they receive snow even now. some of the volunteers have pictures of sledding with some of the kids at their sites! and yet there are places in this countyr so hot in the summer that palm trees spontaneously combust. i have been told over 140 degrees farenheit, at least. so we will see.
today we head back to our community based training site, to continue our language immersion and training. we are planning to hold and earth day celebration this weekend with some of the kids from the school. even though earth day isnùt until next week, we are celebrating is on the weekend, because that is when we will be there. it should be fun! we have some posters to give the classrooms, and will try to do some education about the cool animals and plants that make morocco their home, and then play some educational games. should be good; but it will be an adventure for sure with the amount of language that i have actually mastered! heh_heh.
today we head back to our community based training site, to continue our language immersion and training. we are planning to hold and earth day celebration this weekend with some of the kids from the school. even though earth day isnùt until next week, we are celebrating is on the weekend, because that is when we will be there. it should be fun! we have some posters to give the classrooms, and will try to do some education about the cool animals and plants that make morocco their home, and then play some educational games. should be good; but it will be an adventure for sure with the amount of language that i have actually mastered! heh_heh.
Monday, April 14, 2008
pictures
hey all!!
i am finally going to get some photos up here... i hope.
hooray!!!! the hand is my hand with tradtional tamazight henna on it. the village is my homestay vilage, near kalat mgouna. you can see the difference between the river valley and the surrounding scrubland. water is soooo important here. the picture with the flag is the vilage school. it is actually the central school in the area, has 600 or so students in it. we will hopefully be doing an environmental education project with them, trying to promote water conservaiton and trash management. there seems to be no formal trash management system in morocco. each city is responsible for it, and most seem to do very little about it. lots of lmika bags, or plastic bags, lying and blowing around. houses are build of concrete or adobe.
thats all for now!
sending my love home
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
29 March 2008
Yesterday I was in a crowded taxi, smushed into the same front seat as the PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who I and three other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) had been visiting. As we rolled around corner after sharp corner, we were again and again greeted by two flags waving proudly in the wind. Vibrant scarlet red, with a dark green star shivering in the center. The flags are there because the king is coming to visit that part of the country. Every town, school, mile of road that he might see is covered with the colors of Morocco. It’s amazing. And then there were the Christmas lights. Yes, green and red Christmas lights, strung in the trees just like they do in Mount Horeb, and complete with some flashing green flowers reminiscent of St. Patty’s Day. It’s humbling to see the patriotism, but at the same time it’s kind of… thought-provoking. It’s hard to see how clean the towns become (no trash, flowers planted, banners and flags everywhere…), knowing that more than likely it will no longer be so clean in a few short days. Still, one cannot deny that the effect was way charming.
We were on our way back from our field trip, in the “foothills of the High Atlas,” according to the volunteer we stayed at. I disagree, we were most definitely in the mountains. No question. Not snow-covered, but in pretty easy view of the white caps of snow. It was fun to see an actual active site, with the volunteer in action. We were able to help out with an Environmental Education session in the nearby school. That was fun, the kids were super cute. The girls were very shy, though. We did a trash pick-up and then a discussion about the different kinds of trash and how long they tend to stick around if you just throw them out on the ground. The girls answered questions, but didn’t want to pick up any trash. The boys were all about the trash, but didn’t answer questions. Some things stay the same, right? Only sometimes the girls are WAY too shy to answer questions, even. Definitely a culture of shyness here. Even outright fear in some cases.
Now we are back again at our seminar site. In a couple of days we return to our host families, though! I look forward to it!
Yesterday I was in a crowded taxi, smushed into the same front seat as the PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who I and three other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) had been visiting. As we rolled around corner after sharp corner, we were again and again greeted by two flags waving proudly in the wind. Vibrant scarlet red, with a dark green star shivering in the center. The flags are there because the king is coming to visit that part of the country. Every town, school, mile of road that he might see is covered with the colors of Morocco. It’s amazing. And then there were the Christmas lights. Yes, green and red Christmas lights, strung in the trees just like they do in Mount Horeb, and complete with some flashing green flowers reminiscent of St. Patty’s Day. It’s humbling to see the patriotism, but at the same time it’s kind of… thought-provoking. It’s hard to see how clean the towns become (no trash, flowers planted, banners and flags everywhere…), knowing that more than likely it will no longer be so clean in a few short days. Still, one cannot deny that the effect was way charming.
We were on our way back from our field trip, in the “foothills of the High Atlas,” according to the volunteer we stayed at. I disagree, we were most definitely in the mountains. No question. Not snow-covered, but in pretty easy view of the white caps of snow. It was fun to see an actual active site, with the volunteer in action. We were able to help out with an Environmental Education session in the nearby school. That was fun, the kids were super cute. The girls were very shy, though. We did a trash pick-up and then a discussion about the different kinds of trash and how long they tend to stick around if you just throw them out on the ground. The girls answered questions, but didn’t want to pick up any trash. The boys were all about the trash, but didn’t answer questions. Some things stay the same, right? Only sometimes the girls are WAY too shy to answer questions, even. Definitely a culture of shyness here. Even outright fear in some cases.
Now we are back again at our seminar site. In a couple of days we return to our host families, though! I look forward to it!
22 March 2008
22 March 2008
Well, this is more of a record of what occurred around this date, but there was cool stuff, so I’ll just take a little trip back in time for this. J
I stayed a week with my first host family!! My host father’s name is Brahim, and my host mother’s name is Fatima. These are some of the most common names here in Morocco, in fact, one of the other trainee’s parents have the exact same name. And exact same last name. Because I’m related to what must be half of the village through my host family. There is also a little girl, Aisha, and a little boy, Murad. They’re great, really kind, understanding and easy going. I’m lucky in that. Mine is not the house where food is forced upon me until I gag. Let me explain: in the Moroccan culture, hospitality is INCREDIBLY important. If you have a guest, you roll out the red carpet. You buy extra nice food if you can, and give them all the best parts of it even if you can’t buy special food. You would never dream of allowing them to help you in the kitchen. You want them to eat as much of that best portion of food as they want, and the way they make sure that you get all you want is that they tell you to eat. And eat, and eat and eat. Because in this very subtle culture, it’s only good manners to refuse food on the first, second, third, fourth try. Thus, one of the first words I learned was “tsh!” meaning, “eat!” In my family, if I say “safi! Baraka, shbeght!” three times or so, they will get let me stop eating, realizing that when we silly Americans say “I’m finished, I’m blessed, I’m full!” we really do mean it. The kids are very helpful with learning the language, too. I think they’re tickled pink to have someone who pronounces the words worse than they do! It’s hilarious, every time I try to say a word with a “q” in it my little sister gets right up in my face and emphatically demonstrates how to properly say it. “q” is a sound made in the very back of your throat, kind of like a crows caw, only duller and louder. Needless to say, it’s pretty challenging when thrown between a few other consonants. Vowels are unpopular here…
I wrote in my email what the valley looks like… I’m going to try to post a picture here to show just how very, very green it is in the river valley and how very, very dust-colored it is everywhere else. Water is an amazing and precious resource. Let me just reiterate that: we in the Midwest of the United States of America are blessed far beyond our understanding with the water the flows in abundance in streams, rivers, ponds and lakes all across our land. The fact that our well water exists and is drinkable, instead of salty, is a blessing. The fact that it does, in fact, rain and snow regularly is a blessing. The fact that we do not have to pull every last drop of water out of a river that has filth, laundry detergent and all manner of trash in it to irrigate our crops, wash our laundry, and even drink is a blessing. It is incredibly rare on the face of the earth, and we should be singing and dancing in thanks and praise every day. I know I do now when my shower actually has pressure and balanced cold and hot water for more than 2 minutes!! (Honestly, I’d rather have a bucket shower with one temperature than a shower that keeps you guessing.)
Some fun/funny/interesting little things I’ve noticed:
--Horses are well treated here. Donkeys are not. They are scorned, beaten, and their legs are all too often sore from running up and down roads without shoes.
--Cheese goes onto pizza after it comes out of the oven at my host family. And my host brother loves pizza, but without the cheese, veggies or sauce. Never seen a 9-year-old so excited about vegan pizza!
--Children of all ages love soccer. It is the only game I’ve ever seen them playing.
--Satellite dishes are common! Apparently they’re cheap, because they pepper every kind of housing unit you can think of.
--People don’t always bother buttoning their flys. I don’t know why, but especially kids. Maybe it’s just too much trouble??
--Motion sickness is a common occurrence on public transportation. Very.
--The Saharan dust is more than equal to crossing the height of the High Atlas Mountains. When there’s dust in the air, there’s dust in the air. Everywhere.
--Apparently people use camels to plow their fields. I wait with great anticipation to witness this!!
Well, this is more of a record of what occurred around this date, but there was cool stuff, so I’ll just take a little trip back in time for this. J
I stayed a week with my first host family!! My host father’s name is Brahim, and my host mother’s name is Fatima. These are some of the most common names here in Morocco, in fact, one of the other trainee’s parents have the exact same name. And exact same last name. Because I’m related to what must be half of the village through my host family. There is also a little girl, Aisha, and a little boy, Murad. They’re great, really kind, understanding and easy going. I’m lucky in that. Mine is not the house where food is forced upon me until I gag. Let me explain: in the Moroccan culture, hospitality is INCREDIBLY important. If you have a guest, you roll out the red carpet. You buy extra nice food if you can, and give them all the best parts of it even if you can’t buy special food. You would never dream of allowing them to help you in the kitchen. You want them to eat as much of that best portion of food as they want, and the way they make sure that you get all you want is that they tell you to eat. And eat, and eat and eat. Because in this very subtle culture, it’s only good manners to refuse food on the first, second, third, fourth try. Thus, one of the first words I learned was “tsh!” meaning, “eat!” In my family, if I say “safi! Baraka, shbeght!” three times or so, they will get let me stop eating, realizing that when we silly Americans say “I’m finished, I’m blessed, I’m full!” we really do mean it. The kids are very helpful with learning the language, too. I think they’re tickled pink to have someone who pronounces the words worse than they do! It’s hilarious, every time I try to say a word with a “q” in it my little sister gets right up in my face and emphatically demonstrates how to properly say it. “q” is a sound made in the very back of your throat, kind of like a crows caw, only duller and louder. Needless to say, it’s pretty challenging when thrown between a few other consonants. Vowels are unpopular here…
I wrote in my email what the valley looks like… I’m going to try to post a picture here to show just how very, very green it is in the river valley and how very, very dust-colored it is everywhere else. Water is an amazing and precious resource. Let me just reiterate that: we in the Midwest of the United States of America are blessed far beyond our understanding with the water the flows in abundance in streams, rivers, ponds and lakes all across our land. The fact that our well water exists and is drinkable, instead of salty, is a blessing. The fact that it does, in fact, rain and snow regularly is a blessing. The fact that we do not have to pull every last drop of water out of a river that has filth, laundry detergent and all manner of trash in it to irrigate our crops, wash our laundry, and even drink is a blessing. It is incredibly rare on the face of the earth, and we should be singing and dancing in thanks and praise every day. I know I do now when my shower actually has pressure and balanced cold and hot water for more than 2 minutes!! (Honestly, I’d rather have a bucket shower with one temperature than a shower that keeps you guessing.)
Some fun/funny/interesting little things I’ve noticed:
--Horses are well treated here. Donkeys are not. They are scorned, beaten, and their legs are all too often sore from running up and down roads without shoes.
--Cheese goes onto pizza after it comes out of the oven at my host family. And my host brother loves pizza, but without the cheese, veggies or sauce. Never seen a 9-year-old so excited about vegan pizza!
--Children of all ages love soccer. It is the only game I’ve ever seen them playing.
--Satellite dishes are common! Apparently they’re cheap, because they pepper every kind of housing unit you can think of.
--People don’t always bother buttoning their flys. I don’t know why, but especially kids. Maybe it’s just too much trouble??
--Motion sickness is a common occurrence on public transportation. Very.
--The Saharan dust is more than equal to crossing the height of the High Atlas Mountains. When there’s dust in the air, there’s dust in the air. Everywhere.
--Apparently people use camels to plow their fields. I wait with great anticipation to witness this!!
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