Conference on the Coast

During the last week of June I received a call from Abdelkader, the director of CDRT, inviting me to participate in their annual summer youth conference called “Université d’Eté” in Essaouira July 9-11. He also wanted to me come to the office the week prior to the conference to assist in the preparations with their youth committee. I was happy to be given a task and eagerly accepted. I headed into the Marrakech office on Monday morning, July 5. Abdelkader was busily meeting with professors from the Science University, so he directed me to their secretary, who was preparing a brochure on the Essaouira conference. The secretary explained the concept of the Université d’Eté in brief and introduced me to Soukaina, the conference youth coordinator. She is an economy student at the University of Marrakech and has been involved in these summer conferences for 5 years now. I was impressed when she showed me the detailed schedule and a task list for the youth committee members. She asked for any helpful feedback on their organizational methods. I said I’d have to wait until after the event to see how it goes.

During all these preparations, Soukaina and her colleagues were in the midst of final exams at the university. She invited me to come back the following couple days to help more in preparations. I intended to go, but the next morning, was plagued by sudden flu symptoms. I awoke with a pounding headache and paralyzing body aches. I barely moved from the house the next 3 days. The stress of moving out of homestay and settling into my new house must have caught up to me.

By Friday morning, though, I was feeling better. I set off for the bus stop at 5:30am, fumbling around in the pre-dawn darkness. The neighborhood pack of stray dogs was assembled near my house and started barking when I arrived. But, they know me well and thankfully subsided when they recognized me. They wagged their tails and followed me in the dark. The bus stop was void of life. I stood alone, guarded by a pack of stray dogs, for the next 30 minutes, hoping a taxi would go by. I finally resorted to taking the bus at 6:15 and barely made it to the 7am departure point at the Science University in Marrakech. We didn’t leave until 9am, as to be expected.

About 100 participants rode on 2 University buses to Essaouira. Everyone was between 20 and 30 years old. A group of older CDRT members and professors followed in cars. I sat next to Ailla, a gangly, chatty political science graduate student from Western Sahara. He was eager to discuss politics with me, which I politely avoided. He persisted by asking if I think Obama is really any better than Bush and what my opinion is of 9/11. I said the latter was tragic, and left it at that. He finally accepted that he wouldn’t get anything else out me and resorted to questions such as “are you married?”, “what are you doing in Morocco?”, “Do you live alone?”.

We arrived at the OFPPT center in Essaouira around noon and were welcomed by the cool Atlantic winds of this city that I’ve come to appreciate so much. OFPPT is a vast technical school complex at the entrance of town. We were put up in the dorms: rooms of 8 bunk beds on a hall way with co-ed showers and toilets. Co-ed showers at a Moroccan conference?! That’s practically unheard of. Everyone was rather surprised at this, but accepted it and moved on. This group of upper class youths pursuing higher education is not really the most accurate representation of rural Moroccan societal norms. Several young women wore no veil, had tight jeans and form-fitting short sleeved shirts that didn’t go down past their thighs. They were dressed like Westerners, and somehow, that shocked me. Many girls do wear the head scarf yet somehow it seems more like an accessory than anything else. They are always color coordinated, with gleaming jewels and pins adorning the fabric. Most of the girls and even boys brought suitcases twice the size of my overnight bag. We were only spending two nights!

I admit I felt rather out of place among all these university students who all knew each other and had their cliques established. I felt like I was back in high school trying to make friends, with little luck. Soukaina, the event coordinator, was clearly quite busy with her group of girls on the organizational committee, so I couldn’t talk much to them. I was in their dorm room, yet even when we were there, they chose to speak Arabic to each other as they did their make-up. They all speak impeccable French, which is why I was surprised they didn’t want to speak it with me.

Upon arrival, we were served lunch at the school cafeteria. It turns out the OFPPT Essaouira branch is primarily a hospitality and restaurant school, so we served by a crew of eager culinary students. Waiters in first class attire including red bowties brought us 3 course meals on neatly set tables with sparkling glasses and silverware. I ate lunch with a French-Moroccan girl named Sarah. She is an elementary school teacher at the French school in Marrakech and attended the conference as a representative of Widad Association. Each participant was there representing some sort of developmental association in the Tensift/Al Haouz region. Widad Association focuses on promoting and supporting unmarried women with children, a group of society that is severely discriminated against in Morocco because it’s against the law for women to have illegitimate children. Sarah was born in France, raised in Marrakech, went to college in Toulon, and has now returned to live in Marrakech. We hit it off and went to go grab a coffee on the beach while waiting for our first afternoon activity with the conference

The opening ceremony was held at the provincial palace. There were many speeches and discussions, but most of it was done in Arabic. Sarah was able to translate some for me, except when the speakers turned from Moroccan Arabic to more classic Arabic. The guest of honor was Mr Ramon Antunez, a professor at the International University of Andalusia in Spain. He spoke to our group about how Andalusia went through the process of decentralization or regionalization, because that is the new movement happening in Morocco right now. Mr Antunez gave a power point presentation in broken French, and later answered questions in Spanish while someone translated in Arabic. I was lost most of the time, fighting off drowsiness with little success.

On Saturday, we divided into 4 groups to attend different workshops of our choice: Income Generating Activities, The role of the University in regional development, Environment and Development, and Art and Culture Development. I attended the Environment workshop along with 18 participants. Luckily, the presentations and discussions were done in French. Two professors gave presentations on climate change and biodiversity in Morocco, focusing particularly on the natural resources that should be valued in the Tensift region. During the presentation, I kept thinking this would have been useful knowledge during Pre-service training. To hear a Moroccan describing the environmental concerns of the country was something we never heard in Ouarzazate. In Asfalou, we even found ourselves wondering what the dire environmental problems were, apart from the trash which wasn’t even in colossal amounts because most households recycled bio-degradable waste and burned the rest. Trash is a serious problem at the Barrage though. During the discussions session, I hoped to get some proposed solutions from the group of university students in the room. I figured they may have some ideas on projects to clean up waste in rural villages. The issues were only skimmed over and there was a lot of talking with little being really said. At any rate, it was an interesting workshop. I did learn some things, most importantly I learned that Naima and I need to brainstorm on waste management projects ourselves because no one else seems to be doing anything about it.

We finished our morning session at 2:30pm and were supposed to return after lunch for more discussions, but the program changed and we were given the rest of the day off. I met up with Martin and spent a lovely afternoon, eating lunch on the ramparts and riding horses on the beach! I’d put “galloping on horseback at the beach in Essaouira” on my Peace Corps Morocco bucket list ever since the Gnaoua Festival two weeks ago. Here was my opportunity to cross that off the list. We each paid 100dh for an hour. My horse was a grey named Jimi, after Jimi Hendrix. Apparently, Hendrix spent some time on the beach of Essaouira and found inspiration at an abandoned fortress in the dunes, which we visited on horseback. On the way back to the horse and camel center, the guide said I could gallop if I wanted. So I went for it. I got to feel the exhilaration of the wind blowing in my face as the horse sped along the beach. I passed a couple participants walking from the youth conference. They seemed surprised to see me come out of nowhere, on a galloping horse.

In the evening, Martin and I met up with four other Volunteers in town for dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant in the medina. We agreed to splurge for a true European meal. The restaurant was tastefully decorated, with jazz music playing in the background. I had a calamari salad and a big glass of red wine for 110dh. Thus ended another splendid day in Peace Corps Morocco.

On Sunday we concluded the conference back at the provincial palace with a series of speeches, workshop summaries, and feedback in a mixture of French and Arabic. Everyone received certificates of participation and we took a group picture. After lunch, everyone piled on the buses to head back to Marrakech. I said goodbye to Sarah, who was staying a few more days in Essa. We agreed to meet up once she returns to Marrakech. The ride back was incredibly hot and sticky. I sat by an English student named Hassan. He speaks better English than French. I was hesitant to make small talk with him at first, but his English is really good and we had a nice conversation. I told him he should look into applying for a Corps language coordinator position, but I warned him working with a small group of newly arrived, frustrated Americans was no easy task!

It was 110F in Marrakech. Hot air wafted into our faces when we got off the bus. We were all drenched in sweat, exhausted, and ready to go home. I caught the last bus to the Barrage and got home at 9:30pm. The weather was very windy, dusty, and dark. Haddoc was waiting for me, thirsty yet alive and well. The house was dusty from the wind storm that day, but otherwise in pretty good shape. Haddoc hadn’t broken into the kitchen or chewed anything up. Let’s see how he survives me being gone for two weeks at PPST (Post-Pre Service Training) in late July!