First Month at Site

First Month at Post

I can’t believe it’s been nearly a month since I arrived at site. I’ve been keeping busy with getting to know the village and surrounding towns, going on long runs, meeting with the women’s association and work partners, and doing my best to adjust to the growing heat of summer. During the last half of May, I had my first meeting with the president of the communal council of Lalla Takerkouste. Naima and I went to present a project proposal provided by CDRT regarding the solar powered fruit drier. We went on a Sunday, souk day, because that’s when many people come into town and request to meet with the president. The proposal was written in French, and was actually a brief first draft sent by Abdelkader, (CDRT Director) presenting the project and listing the roles and responsibilities of each party: the beneficiary association, the commune, and CDRT. The commune is supposed to provide a locale for the machine, CDRT provides the material to build the machine and training for using it, and the association does the work. We wanted to present the proposal to see what the commune had to say about their ability to participate in the project.

Most of the meeting was conducted in Arabic so it went right over my head. But they sprinkled in some French when addressing me. We had to explain to the commune my role here in the community and why I was working with Naima’s association specifically. The president also asked me what kind of financial assistance I was bringing to Naima and I had to clarify that I was a human resource assigned to work with all interested and willing members of the commune, yet my main project was to work with CDRT and Naima’s association. There’s some underlying political tension between her association, the Kaid (sort of like the mayor), and the communal council. From what I’ve gathered, the commune and Kaid have a reputation for seizing projects from associations in order to take their money. However, they aren’t quite sure what to make of me and this fruit drier idea. They barely scanned the proposal and went straight to the section describing the commune’s responsibilities in the project and said they needed us to present more technical information and a budget before they could sign any type of project agreement. This seemed fair enough, so I arranged to meet with Larbi and Abdelkader at CDRT to go over that.

It took another two weeks to finally meet with Abdelkader at the CDRT office in Marrakech, and we spent most of it going over what model of solar powered fruit drier would be best for the space Naima has set aside for the project. That I know of, there are two other fruit driers in the country set up for use at the rural association level, and this may be the third one. Therefore, it’s a new concept and they’re still working out the kinks on the best functioning machine. Abdelkader has a background in engineering, while the paperwork and political side of the project is more Larbi’s specialty. In the coming weeks, we will hopefully tackle the signing of an agreement so we can move forward. At any rate, I feel as though I’m getting a good start on work, because I am partnered with an extremely motivated women’s association and an NGO armed with highly educated, resourceful members.

Weekend in Essaouira

On May 28, I went to spend my first weekend away from site to celebrate my CBT friend Martin’s birthday in Essaouira. Sami, Dave, and Cara from CBT all came up from the Tiznit region in the south, as well as a few health volunteers around Essaouira. We rented a Riad in the medina and spent a lovely two days catching up on site stories and exploring the city. Essaouira is right on the ocean, between Agadir and Casablanca. It’s a small city yet very popular with tourists. All the buildings are painted white with vibrant blue doors and shutters. Everything seems to follow this color scheme. Even the taxis are blue and white. The medina is smaller and calmer than the clamor and whirlwind aura of Marrakech. There are endless kiosks and tourist craft boutiques, but the shopkeepers aren’t nearly as aggressive at trying to lure you into their store. Essaouira has a strong presence of culture and art as well, with many beautiful crafts and paintings adorning the cafes and riads (typical medina houses). The best part of Essa is the constant cool breeze blowing in from the ocean. It supposedly doesn't get nearly as hot here in summer as the interior regions. We walked along the city ramparts, watched the sunset over the Atlantic, and roamed past the rows of blue boats at the marina.

After hearing about the other volunteers’ sites, I affirmed that I have once again been really lucky with my Peace Corps assignment. The fact that I speak French and can easily communicate with my counterparts is a huge help in getting things done. Some of the others live in tiny douars (small villages) of 10 houses with no kiosk and no transportation in or out. They have to walk up to 2 hours to find a taxi or get to their souk town. I have a city bus that stops by my douar, several kiosks that sell fruits and vegetables every day, a weekly souk, and I’m only 40 minutes ride from Marrakech.

I returned from my weekend away feeling recharged and ready to face another month of host family homestay.

Larbi’s Birthday

June 3^rd was my host father’s birthday. He turned 57 and had previously informed me he’d never celebrated a birthday in his life. Meanwile, Malika doesn’t even have a birthday. Her identification card states she was born in 1961; no day or month. So on June 3^rd, I bought some birthday candles and decided to bake Larbi a cake. I showed Malika how to make banana bread and she had her son Mehdi record every ingredient and step in Arabic so she could replicate it later. In the evening, we had a little family birthday party in the guest salon. Malika and I wore traditional dresses, Larbi put on a nice shirt, they bought a bottle of soda, and we lit the candles. Larbi was very grateful and beamed from ear to ear after blowing out the candles. It made my day to see him smile. The banana bread was a hit. Hicham ate about half of it himself.

House Hunting

One of my key assignments during the first two months is to find a house to rent for the next two years. Peace Corps set a maximum monthly rent allotment of 500-600DH (roughly $65). Most volunteers in the Marrakech region have trouble finding housing at that price, because so many Europeans live here and hike up the rent. Many end up getting approval for a higher cost. My host family arduously wanted me to stay with them for two years, which is something I could do if I wanted. But, the prospect of living up on the roof with little privacy and control over my schedule for the next two years wasn’t my cup of tea. Plus, in the last two weeks, the weather has been getting excruciatingly hot and the non-insulated cement room I call my bedroom turns into an outright inferno. I’ve even resorted to sleeping on a rug outside, under the stars, which is actually quite pleasant.

At first, Naima and Malika told me there weren’t really any good houses to rent in the douar, and all the available apartments were on the other side of the river, in the Arab side of town. Rent there is expensive, and I would be victim to much more harassment. All the young men and drunks come by the busload from Marrakech every weekend, along with tourists to rent 4-wheelers and party on the lakeshores. The berber douar is calmer, safer, and separate from the weekend hustle and bustle. Anyway, once I convinced my host family that I couldn’t survive the heat up on the roof and I needed my own house, they were more than happy to help me find one. Malika was paramount in getting the word out and before I knew it, I was visiting a couple different houses a day. All of them are in varying degrees of completion or degradation, but most consist of 2-3 rooms, a kitchen, a latrine, and a central cement courtyard. I finally found one that I really like, however it’s not quite finished. It’s got a vast courtyard, 3 rooms, and a kitchen with a sink and cement countertop. There’s a big man-sized hole in the wall of the courtyard leading into another abandoned, unfinished house. Some of the windows and doors haven’t been installed yet, but my favorite part is that there’s roof access. Iron rods stick out from everywhere up there, but there’s a magnificent, panoramic view of the village and the mountains. With Malika and Larbi’s help, I negotiated the rent at 600DH and the landlord agreed to get everything finished and secured by July 1^st. Today, June 5^th, the Volunteer warden for the Marrakech region came to do a ‘house check’ and approved the house. So now I have to cross my fingers that the work gets done and I can sign the rental agreement in the next couple weeks! I am so excited to live on my own and get settled in a house!

First Week at Post

After a few more days of administrative sessions and lots of socializing in between in Ouarzazate, the Health and Environment sector trainees wrapped up Pre-Service Training with a swearing-in ceremony on May 5^th. The ceremony took place at the Ouarzazate Palais de Congres, a lavish building with plush auditorium chairs and the ever-present photograph of the King. The Ouarzazate governor, the Director of Peace Corps Morocco, the US Ambassador, and three trainees gave speeches before we took the oath. It felt strange taking that oath again. It brought me back to the Benin swearing in ceremony in the field outside Lokossa, 5 years ago. All the new Volunteers there had sported matching fabric outfits for each sector. We’d sat through the ceremony in plastic chairs under makeshift open tents, with traditional musicians performing a dance and drum routine. Afterwards, we’d joined the mad dash to the snack and soda pavilions only to get out-run by the all the Beninese host families and find only crumbs leftover. In Morocco, we all pretty much wore Western business casual attire. Two people out of 69 trainees wore traditional outfits. Afterwards, we were ushered to the cocktail hall for Moroccan sweets, smoothies, and tea while we took group photos and chatted with the governor.

On Thursday, May 6^th, I took the bus to Marrakech with all my belongings. The winding roads across the Atlas Mountains proved challenging once again, as I fought off nausea and exhaustion from the previous night’s celebrations. To avoid dragging my obscenely heavy suitcase, backpack, and handbag across town, I opted for the more expensive route and bought out an entire bush taxi to take me to Malika and Larbi’s door in Amzour. Malika was waiting with open arms. I felt like I was home.

I’ve been keeping pretty busy since I’ve arrived. On Friday I went to see the Gendarmes in Amzmiz, 25 km south of Amzour. I presented myself and began the process to acquire a carte de sejour. Morocco does not require a Visa, but after three months, we must get one of these cards as proof of residence and to be able to go in and out of the country. That’s what I understand from it anyway. It’s a painstakingly long process involving loads of paperwork, passport photos, a 100DH fiscal stamp, the presence of a host family member with all their identification papers, and lots of waiting. Luckily for me, there are two Volunteers in Amzmiz, and the Gendarmes here are friendly, efficient, and accustomed to the process. I returned on Tuesday with more documents and spent about 4 hours with the commandant but managed to leave with a receipt document that will be my carte de sejour until the actual card comes in, inch’allah.

On Saturday, I spent an afternoon in Marrakech with Malika and Hicham. We took the bus in and visited Jema’l’Fna and the medina for a few hours. Malika went to all her customary wholesaler stores to buy gowns, sandals, and undergarments to resell at a tailor shop in Amzour. The vendors seem to know her well. She’s quite the businesswoman. The covered souk is full of textiles, crafts, spices, and so many people. I was burning up and dizzy from all the movement, yet I was happy to visit the city with a local. We walked around the square, munched on roasted peanuts, bought Hicham an ice cream cone, and then took the crowded bus back to the Barrage at 6:30. We all went to bed early that night.

On Sunday, an Italian tradesman who works with Naima’s association brought another order of baskets for the women to weave. His name is Nicola and he works with various associations in Morocco and India to fabricate textiles and re-sell them from Italy. He brings the raw material, shows the women how to make the product, then comes back to buy their work. This time, he brought 15 straw baskets and bags of turquoise sequins to be woven all around the outside of the baskets. One of the women, Aicha, already knows how to do the work, so she showed the others, including myself. I spent several hours weaving, which they greatly appreciated. It’s arduous and tough on the fingers. Nicola wants to pick up the baskets on Thursday already. Aicha gave me a basket to work on at home. I’ve been doing a little each day but I’m not even halfway done yet. Even if 15 women each took a basket home to work on, I don’t see how they could get it done in 4 days, with all the other household chores they accomplish each day.

I returned to Marrakech on Monday to meet two current Volunteers in the region for a day of shopping. Donielle is posted in Amzmiz, so I met her on the bus to the city, where we met Sara from Tahanaout. We went to the outskirts of the city to a brand new shopping mall and Carrefour supermarket. It reminded me of the Midtown mall in Miami. We definitely didn’t feel like we were in Africa. The shopping center opened in April so some stores aren’t open yet, but there’s a United Colors of Benetton, an imitation of Starbucks, a food court, a TGI Friday’s, swank restrooms, and a movie theater. The Carrefour has all the French brand names of groceries, great produce, a liquor store called La Cave, and an extensive electronics and household items section. I bought cheese to make quiche for my host family.

In the afternoon, Sara and Donielle headed home and I managed to set up a meeting with CDRT through my program manager, Mohssine. I met with my counterpart, Larbi Didoukane, at a café by the Science University on the northeast side of town. He took me to the CDRT office nearby, located in a quiet residential neighborhood of villas and bougainvilleas. The office is large and well-equipped, with several secretaries and interns busy at their computers. We had a meeting with the Director and the President and discussed my role in their capacity building project with partnered associations in the region. CDRT works with 100 associations in a vast area around Marrakech, reaching as far west as Essaouira. Because I am based in Lalla Takerkouste, they’d like me to first work with the women’s association there on the fruit drying machine project. Then, they’d like me to meet with all the partnered associations in the commune and identify the ones capable of carrying out a project, then help them realize it. We discussed the philosophy behind their work and this capacity building project in particular. Overall, it was a good meeting and I’m excited to see where it goes. They have some paperwork to do regarding the fruit drying machines, and then Abdelkader, the Director, would like me to go visit the manufacturer once they’ve identified who can build the machine. In the meantime, I have to explain to Naima that the machines won’t be ready by apricot season this year, which is in less than two weeks.

I think I’ll be moving about a lot with the position, namely to Marrakech. It’s a lot of transportation costs, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I headed back to Amzour and chatted with Naima at the pharmacy before heading home at 8pm, thoroughly exhausted and famished. Malika had squash duwaz and coffee waiting for me. Duwaz is a common, simple and tasty dish here. It’s basically a mixture of vegetables and sometimes meat pressure cooked for a long time and served with bread.

On Tuesday, after visiting the gendarmes in Amzmiz, I went to the town’s weekly souk, which is absolutely enormous. I met with Donielle for a lunch of tajine at her house. She’s pretty much my post mate and I get along real well with her, l’Hamdulah. There’s another Volunteer there, who’s currently vacationing in the states. I’ll meet him in a few weeks.

Today, Wednesday, I finally baked a quiche for Malika and the family. She’d been eagerly anticipating that since I mentioned it during site visit. It definitely went better than the rice mush dinner in Asfalou. It was quite delicious even. Mehdi really like it and already requested that I make more. Maybe next time I’ll make tarte a la moutarde…

Last Week in Asfalou

We’ve finished up our last week of training in Asfalou. It’s been a long and rather boring week, as far as training sessions. We returned all pumped up from our site visits and after telling all our stories about the past week, we were extremely reluctant to sit through hours of class, learning language and whatever administrative information we still needed to cover. Our LCF was a bit more lenient though, and we were able to convince him to let us have loads of study time. I spent most of it swapping music and movies with other trainees or playing minesweeper. We went to souq in Ouarzazate on Sunday. It’s gigantic. I bought some gifts for my host family: head scarves, perfume, a shirt for my host dad, and a pair of bright green plastic house shoes for my host mom because the ones she has are 3 sizes too small. She’s got the same size feet as me! Imagine that, a Moroccan woman with boat feet too. I also got some coloring books for the kids.

On Wednesday, we went to the souq in Timdlin to buy ingredients for a host family party. We all enjoy going to souq because it’s a great way to practice bargaining, learn the price of things, and interact with vendors. Not to mention there’s a growing selection of fruit, and we all love going to a particular peanut vendor. He sells honey-coated peanuts, sesame flavored cookies, salted peanuts, golden raisins, and roasted chick-peas. The dried dates at souq are delicious as well. They come in a wide variety of qualities, and levels of moisture. A kilo of good quality dates cost less than $2.50.

On Wednesday night, I decided to cook an “American” dinner for the family. The night before, I had told Najat, Brahim, and Khadija that I would make some sort of rice dish. I went with a Chinese stir fry type theme and bought hot peppers at the souq. I was planning to cook for four people, but then the entire family showed up right at 7:30pm. There was Fatima and her husband, Zahra with her son and husband, Maryan, and Halima. The sisters were picking up Khadija so that they could all travel to Marrakech in the morning. They’re going to visit their brother Omar there. Anyway, the dinner party grew to eleven people. The pressure was on. All the women crowded in the kitchen to see what I was doing, and Najat had Brahim running back and forth from his boutique getting spices and ingredients for me. I was intimidated to cook in front of all these women. Their husbands were pressed to get back to Timdlin so they kept telling me to hurry. It turned into a bit of a fiasco. The rice was not of stir-frying quality, so it turned to mush. The hot peppers were hotter than I thought. I mixed the spicy vegetables with the rice mush and threw in some eggs. Najat and I heaped the sticky mound of food onto a big platter and brought it to the table of guests. It didn’t look very appetizing. Plus, Zahra had told me a couple weeks before that they always add orange or red food coloring to their dishes because in Morocco, food is not considered palatable unless it’s got an appetizing color. My rice mush was looking rather pale, with only green vegetables sprinkled in.

Anyway, everyone dug in with their spoons. It was tasty, yet extremely spicy. Khadija, who complains to Najat all the time about there being too much spice or salt at dinner, took one bite, gasped, and clamored for a glass of water. Everyone had the sniffles and huffed and puffed all through the meal, but they kept eating. The plate was scraped clean, l’Hamdullilah! Gou-Brahim said “we will always remember Felicie and her rice dinner now”. They told me numerous times it was delicious, but I still felt like I’d flopped the dinner. Anyway, I’m happy I did it. I’m sure they appreciated the gesture. I now know a bit more how Najat feels every day. She constantly has to cook and make tea at a moment’s notice. The number of guests can increase ten-fold in a minute and she is still expected to prepare a delicious meal in a timely fashion.

After dinner, Khadija and her daughters got ready to leave. They showered me with hugs and kisses. Khadija didn’t want to let go of me. She’s quite short next to me, so she buried her head in my chest and weeped for about a minute before joining the others in Grou-Brahim’s car. I was touched by how attached they were. I’m really going to miss this family.

Thursday we took our language proficiency interviews. It basically entailed 15 minutes of conversation with a Tashlhit language tester. Our minimum level requirement is Novice High, I scored Intermediate Low. I think I could have don’t better if I’d studied, but I was worn out and just figured I’d do fine with my French. I managed to communicate to the tester in Tash where I worked in the states before coming here, that I served in Peace Corps Benin doing environmental projects, and what I’ll be doing in my new site.

We had our host family party in Asfalou Friday afternoon. Our amazing cook Rqia made cakes and donuts for 50 people. I had told my host family about the party on Monday. On Wednesday, Najat said she wouldn’t be able to go because Brahim wouldn’t allow it. He doesn’t let her go anywhere that includes a lot of men. This upset me a bit, even though she just laughed it off. I asked Brahim if she could go and he said only if there were separate rooms for men and women. None of the other host families seemed to have made this request, but we decided to have the party at Rqia’s house and she said we could do two rooms. All of us were wondering if people were going to show up. Our family members seemed so nonchalant about the whole party idea. When we asked if they were coming, they shrugged and said “inch’allah”. But, sure enough, at 4pm, everyone was there, dressed up in jellabas and colorful scarves. My host mom was the last to arrive, after I’d begun to fear she was still not allowed to come despite the separate rooms. Rqia and her sister busily ran back and forth between the two guest rooms and we all sat in semi-awkward silence for a while. We loosened up little by little, and with the help of the kids to create distraction, we were all laughing and chatting by the end of the afternoon.

On Saturday, I got hennaed again by Najat’s sister. The women had been planning this all week. Apparently it’s a customary sending off procedure. She covered my hands and feet in beautiful designs. It looks really cool; I just don’t like the part where I have to sit for 3 hours and not touch anything until it dries. I sat with my hands in the air and my feet propped up on a pillow, nodding off in front of the TV. Najat took me to my room and had me lay down for a while until I could wash it off.

In the evening, Brahim invited me, our language trainer, and the other trainees to dinner and music at the hotel by the river. He’s taken me there several times to listen to berber singing and to hang out with his friends who run the place. We had a nice last evening in Asfalou. I cant believe it’s been two months already.

Lalla Takerkoust

Lalla Takerkoust, April 23, 2010.

I just spent an invigorating few days at my site. On Saturday morning, I took the bus along with several other trainees from Ouarzazate to Marrakech. It’s a long and difficult ride across the High Atlas but the views are absolutely spellbinding. Each bend in the road (and there are many) presents a better view than the last, though I had to keep my eyes closed much of the time to keep carsickness from getting the better of me. We arrived in Marrakech in early afternoon, and about 7 of us had lunch by the souk and walked to Jamè Lfouna, a large mosque in the center of the city. The square next to it is surrounded by shops, restaurants, and hotels, and bustles with snake charmers, monkeys, and tourists. I went to find the hotel recommended by Peace Corps to spend the night as the other trainees continued to Rabat or East into the mountains to their sites. I wound up not being able to get a room because my photocopied documents didn’t suffice, so after trying several hotels and huffing and puffing around town with my heavy backpack, I decided to head straight to Lalla Takerkoust.

The bush taxi ride barely took 45 minutes. I craned my neck eagerly, my eyes glued to the landscape as we neared the village. The land around Marrakech is very flat and I got excited as the terrain began to undulate more and more. In my opinion, the more hills there are, the more hiking opportunities. Lalla Takerkoust is split in half by a river and large dam built in 1938. One side is newer, populated by the families of the dam workers and now by miners, many of which are Arab. The older side is primarily berber, made up of the original inhabitants of the village that was displaced by the construction of the dam. The new side is more commercial and houses the weekly souk, post office, a pharmacy, internet cafes, and several shops, kiosks, and restaurants. The older side is much quieter, with just a couple kiosks. I am staying in old side of the village, known as Amzour. My post has just the right mixture; quaint, withdrawn from the city and surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, yet equipped with a variety of amenities to live comfortably.

Moroccan Host Family Number Two

My host family in Lalla Takerkoust is quite different from the Maali’s in Asfalou. My host father is a small, wiry man named Laarbi. He is 56 but looks 70, with a weathered, gray-bearded face, several missing teeth, and a worn down posture. He thankfully speaks very good French and I learned a great deal about him in the first couple days. He is a gardener in the orchards of a big mine 15km east of Lalla Takerkoust. He works 6 days a week from 7am to 3pm, and has had no holiday or vacation in the last 15 years. Up until 3 years ago, he used to walk over the hills to the mine and back every day: 30 km. He now takes a bus. His salary is quite meager, and he hasn’t managed to get a raise because there are so many unemployed people around seeking to work for less money. All this hard work and no savings to show for it has turned him into a rather cynical man, and he has a gruff demeanor but once you manage to see past it, he’s quite nice. His wife, Malika, is a stocky, gregarious woman of 50 with loads of pep. She speaks no French, which is perfect for me to learn Tash. The first couple days were tough as far as communication, but she is relentless and loves to talk, so I’m catching on. The Tashlhit spoken here is a little different from the Ouarzazate region. They understand all the words I use, but they have some different vocabulary so I have to re-learn many words.

Malika and Laarbi have two sons, Mehdi who is 15, and Hicham, who is 10. They both go to school and spend the majority of their time out of the house. Because Laarbi didn’t get married until he was 37, he is accustomed to doing many household chores himself. I was surprised to see him doing his laundry, making us tea at snack time, and even helping Malika cut up vegetables for dinner. Brahim Maali would never do that sort of thing. Malika is also a bold, outspoken woman who doesn’t hesitate to go out into the village. She is Vice President and Treasurer of the women’s association and sells clothes and jewelry in surrounding villages. As my community partner put it, “she’s not afraid of anyone”, which is rare in this culture for a woman I think. The combination of her social omnipresence and the lack of other females in the household makes for a sometimes messy home. Their house is new and only half finished, so much of it is bare cement walls and floors. The kitchen is well-equipped and usually littered with piles of accumulated dirty dishes and food scraps, but she’s a fantastic cook and showed me how to make breads and tajine and plans to show me much more. After the customary 2-3 days of being a guest, she let me help her wash dishes and cook.

My room is on the roof, with a splendid view and apt outdoor space for doing laundry. I had to coax them into letting me sleep in my own room because they were reluctant of leaving me alone at night. I spent two nights sleeping with Hicham and Malika but when they found me sleeping on a couch outside one morning to escape Malika’s monstrous snoring, they decided to clean up the dusty storage room on the roof for me. Laarbi chuckled for hours about it because he also can’t sleep in the same room as Malika and her snoring.

Amzour Women’s Association

The women’s association I will be working with is headed by Naima, my community partner. She’s 28, had has a History degree from the university in Agadir. She works at the village pharmacy 6 days a week and spends all her free time working on projects for the association. About 8 women, including my host mother Malika, are active members. They started the association less than a year ago with a larger group of women, but many dropped out as they lost interest or didn’t find the monetary benefits they’d expected. At any rate, the remaining members are extremely motivated and active. They work from a tiny loft donated by Naima’s father, making Moroccan pastries and breads to sell to shopkeepers in town. They are working on getting a larger workspace to get the fruit drier from CRDT NGO in Marrakech and hope to get some larger ovens to make bread en mass for local restaurants and guesthouses. Naima has many contacts from working at the pharmacy, as a large part of her clientele is local Europeans, regional shopkeepers, and tourists.

I helped the women make little anise-flavored croquettes in the evenings as they were working on an order for 8kg. They sell them at 15DH/kg, with a profit of about 6DH/kg (less than 1USD). The association also pays two young women/ teenagers to tutor elementary students in the evenings. Maybe I can get one of them to tutor me in Tash. Naima and I have discussed all sorts of potential projects we’d like to work on. I told them about my projects in Benin, and they really liked the recycled art with bottlecaps. Some of the kids started collecting caps for me already.

On Tuesday, Malika and I were invited for tea at a retired couple’s house. They’ve both been to Mecca and are referred to as L’Hej and L’Heja. Their son Jalil is an established artist specializing in recycled metal sculptures. He lives with his parents and has transformed the Moroccan villa into a veritable piece of art. The doors and walls of the courtyards are painted vibrant shades of blue, with ornate moldings and welded metal decorating every corner. L’Hej, is big supporter of Naima and put her in contact with CRDT. He heard of my recycled art ideas and took me to meet Jalil at his art shop in town. He indeed does remarkable work, which he’s exposed numerous times around Morocco. We drank tea in his office and discussed the possibility of working together. He also liked my bottlecap idea and wants to create a sculpture with them. He’s ready to work with me and let me learn some of his trade, which I’m super excited about!

Running in Lalla Takerkoust

I didn’t wait long to communicate to Naima and my host family that I love hiking and running. As advised by Peace Corps, it’s best to gage the level of conservatism in a locale before going out running on the first day. They were very receptive to the idea and supported by wish to run the Marrakech Marathon next year. Naima was excited to hear I was a runner and said she would accompany me in the mornings. She’d wanted to start but was scared to go by herself, especially because if the villagers saw her out and about alone in athletic gear they’d start making stories about rendezvous’ and promiscuity. We decided to meet at 6am, and sure enough, she was at my door at 6 sharp. I ran and she walked most of the way, but she loved it and diligently accompanied me every morning. Word got around and two other women joined us for an hour run/walk. Naima says at least five more have expressed interest in running with us! There’s a basketball court at the school fields that isn’t used much as the boys prefer soccer. Some girls play basketball during gym class. I told Malika’s 14 year old niece I liked basketball and would like to play with them sometime and she came back from school one day with a petition of 15 girls who want to start basketball training with me on Saturdays!

Site Announcement

Yesterday was the big day. We were given our post assignments for the next two years! Folders were passed around the room with our names and site names, most of which were quite difficult to pronounce. I have been assigned to the village of Lalla Takerkoust. It’s in the Al Houz region, only 30 km south of Marrakech. It’s a town of 3500, with a paved road running through it. There is a dam that generates electricity for the entire Marrakech region, and a large lake attracting many Marrakech families for weekend picnics on the shores.

I will be working with a women’s association who is supposedly extremely active and motivated. I hope at least one of the members resembles my host aunt Zahra! Their key project right now is to build a hybrid fruit drier (gas and solar powered) for local income generation. So I may have access to quality dried figs and apricots! My Peace Corps program manager also informed me I will be working on the NGO liaison pilot project very soon. I am to work with an NGO based in Marrakech called Centre de Developpement de la Region de Tensift (CDRT). It’s made of a team of physicians, engineers, and technicians who work on projects such as hybrid fruit driers in the region. So I will be traveling to Marrakech frequently to work with them. I am extremely excited about all this.

I am the first volunteer in this village. I will know much more in a week. Tomorrow I’m going to Marrakech to meet with a current PCV working on a similar project in another village, and we will travel together to Lalla Takerkoust on Sunday.

Earth Day Celebration Part Two. April 13, 2010

Our second day of celebrations proved to be just as successful as the first, except today all the participants were on time. At 2pm, the Zituna men came to pick up our 26 olive trees and we all headed to the school armed with paper, colored pencils, and markers for the kids. Brahim and a couple other men set to work digging holes for the trees around the schoolyard while we gathered the 40+ kids in the classroom to tell us what the environment is and then draw a picture of it. They were enthusiastic and put forth effort in the activity, which was gratifying to see. Because most of them had included trees in their drawings, we discussed why trees are important for us and the environment.

At 3pm, Zahara showed up as promised with the women’s group. She had had them draw pictures of the environment in her classroom, so while the children went outside to plant trees, we had the women tell us about their drawings. Many women had drawn flowers, their houses, the irrigation ditch, and the well. Water, or lack thereof, was the focal point of the drawings. Zahara was paramount in helping with the discussion. She has a way of keeping their attention focused, as they otherwise have a tendency to break off into a million simultaneous conversations. The women asked us to explain global warming and even asked why there was so much talk of melting ice caps on television. This was a poignant reminder of the power and impact of the media and particularly television in all corners of the world. We drew the classic greenhouse effect diagram and tried to explain that even though Asfalou doesn’t seem to have a pollution problem, not burning tires and plastic in the hamam and outdoors still plays a part in reducing the greenhouse effect.

Earth Day Celebration Part 1. April 12, 2010

So, Monday was day one of our Earth Day celebrations in Asfalou. As planned, the six of us plus Saïd walked to the school at 9am to meet the students, teachers, women’s group, and olive farmers’ association for a village trash pick-up. The schoolyard was empty except 5 young boys, who we assumed were there not to pick up trash but just out of curiosity as to what we were doing there. The two school teachers had made us believe on Friday morning that all the students would be there, along with the Zituna (olive tree association) men, and the women’s group. We came equipped with about 20 empty cement sacks and a poster displaying what trash items are ok to burn, and what should be buried instead. We’d drawn items such as sardine cans, plastic bottles, broken glass, and aluminum as non-burnable, and then cloth, paper, and cardboard as burnable.

The school director soon arrived from Ouarzazate, and my host dad Brahim came too. The director said the village was apparently not excited about this activity, unfortunately. The school only has class in the afternoon on Monday, which is why the schoolyard was empty. But, by 9:30, 3 more Zituna men arrived and about 25 kids appeared with gloves and rakes and shovels. Brahim and the school director were invaluable in helping us instruct the kids. We went over our poster, which had Arabic translations for our drawings, then we all spread out. A little squabble of 10 year old girls followed me. They’ve somehow decided I am their favorite trainee and whenever we go to the school or to meet with the women’s group, they appear at my side and fight one another on who gets to stand next to me and hold my hand. It was quite sweet at first, but it’s gotten a bit stifling at times. Regardless, the children here are adorable. We spent over an hour around the village collecting trash. More children showed up with shovels and wheelbarrows. It was quite an undertaking. We filled our bags and went to dump them in a big hole at the foot of the mountain behind the school. We each collected several bags full of rubbish, and probably the most unpleasant part was picking up used diapers. The stench at times was nauseating. There are a LOT of diapers.

The women’s group didn’t show up at the school until we were nearly done with the trash collection. They didn’t seem ready to collect trash but Zahara organized the group and sent them to a different side of the village to do their own trash pickup. We buried all the trash and concluded our efforts with tea and tajine at the school provided by my host family. It wound up being a pretty successful day. I think the fact that villagers saw us Americans and the school director (who doesn’t even live here) getting dirty collecting their trash (and diapers) hopefully made a decent impact.