Zeus the Parasite, Pre-Thanksgiving Thanks Pt. 2

In case you are curious, I've got a parasite living in my intestines and its' name is Zeus. For whatever reason, I find this to be more amusing than disturbing. Perhaps it's a result of already experiencing a "de-worming" in Zambia and that many Peace Corps volunteers spend their two years with a tiny friend in their body. For me, the diagnosis was a confirmation of my persistent symptoms rather than a revelation. Giardia is a fact of life in the developing world, especially when you are trying to fully engage in the culture. Sure, I could probably avoid an infection if I never ate delicious street food and avoided spending time (aka eating) with Moroccans, but that would take away all the fun! Far better to accept that I will get sick, things will be dirty and that everybody poops. 

Also, this is a fantastic representation of life in the Peace Corps:

http://whatshouldpcvscallme.tumblr.com/post/34301699230/when-i-have-giardia

For those of you who have given up on my mental and physical well-being after this post, perhaps a story of something less graphic and more encouraging. Today was a big and beautiful day! I had my first bowl of cereal since leaving the states two months ago (!!!) The lucky cereal is basically a chocolate version of golden grahams and it's delicious coated in whole milk. I could hardly contain myself from grinning while I devoured my tiny bowl of heaven and caught up on Glee. I love mornings.

After a quick trip to the weekly market, I successfully taught my first class at the Dar Cheba (youth center). While only two students attended, it felt wonderful to get started. My introductory class, entitled "All About Me" allows me to assess the level of the students and introduce some American culture into the discussion. In my opinion grammar, reading and writing are all important, but are much easier to pick up from a non-native speaker. Therefore, I will focus on improving oral communication skills, knowledge of American culture and encouraging creativity in daily life; areas which I feel I have a unique perspective or ability. 

This morning's lesson did not disappoint. I'm a fairly animated person, especially when teaching, and if nothing else I think the students were fascinated by my facial expressions. Hey, it's a start! I had a great time describing the wonder of cereal to kids who have exclusively eaten bread for breakfast and later managed to explain the difference between "to slaughter" and "to kill." Don't ask me how this subject came up...

The afternoon went quickly with a Darija tutoring session, homework help with Bac students and discussion with a fellow teacher regarding the differences between studying law in Morocco and studying law in the States. At 6 pm, I rallied for tea, rice and soap operas with a family in town and was informed that I need to be married in four years and then quickly produce four to five children. This was gracious by Moroccan standards, but I soon realized the mom thought I was between 18 and 20 years old. I am guessing that she will have shortened my freedom to six months by the next time I return. After practicing proverbs in Darija and Tamazight, the Berber language spoken in my town, and drawing stick figures to explain a fellow volunteer's current struggles at home (the words for 'dog' and 'heart' are disturbingly close), I was released to walk home.

Upon my return, it became clear that my recently returned landlord and neighbor had mistakenly locked me out of the apartment. His grandson was sent to retrieve me and before I knew it my grandpa landlord, who is roughly one foot shorter than me, was demanding that I immediately climb the stairs and eat dinner with them while simultaneously apologizing for the inconvenience of the locked door. Prepared for his kind attack of endless hospitality, I negotiated a trade from dinner this evening to a tea tomorrow morning. Boo-yah. 

Climbing into bed this evening with my cup of tea and premature Christmas music, I realized that on the eve before Thanksgiving, I have so much to be thankful for this year. Here's to many more days of tea, learning and Moroccan grandpas. Bring it on, parasites.

Pre-Thanksgiving Thanks.

Good news- I got the weekend of cinnamon rolls, American sitcoms and friendship that I needed. Michelle proved to be a wonderful host and I was thrilled to explore her palmerie, souq and simply relax in her home. Returning to site on Monday afternoon, I felt a renewed sense of comfort and the worries of last week faded into my distant memory. This week proved to be the beginning of what I hope the next six months will feel like in my site - challenging, busy and full of Moroccan companionship. Here is a brief summary and some highlights of the past few days:

- First two meetings with my Moroccan tutor, a fantastic English teacher who shares my cross-cultural interests and is excited to get involved with clubs and teaching at the Dar Chebab (youth center). He is patient with my inability to roll an "r" and knows more about phonetics and English than I do. He is currently working on his PhD focusing on the Western stereotypes of the East specifically in Sheikh Desert Romance Literature.

- Finally set a schedule with my supervisor for work at the Dar Chebab and will begin teaching roughly 15 hours in the upcoming week with additional hours at the Dar Taliba (the equivalent of a girls' boarding school), Aerobics at my host families' Tae Kwon Do studio and additional clubs beginning in the next month. Can't wait to get in front of the class!

- Tracking down the Darija word for "nutmeg," finding the correct stall at souq and being totally confused by the shell that my nutmeg came in. Still trying to figure out how to transfer this sort of nutmeg into what I can use for homemade Chai tea and loving the challenge.

- Fantastic fish dinner with my landlords' family including you tube videos and conversation in French regarding politics and the implications of Obama's re-election. We also discussed the possibility of an adult English class at the Dar Chebab, which I am anxious to get moving.

- Gift of homemade butter from the owner of the market, packaged especially for me!

- Getting lost in conversation with my host mom - five hours later realizing that I needed to move on to my next appointment and feeling generally disappointed that I had to leave.

- Skype sessions with baby Zoe, dad and Chanda - it's wonderful to have family and decent Internet.

- Being asked by a Moroccan friend to teach her how to read music. Hell yes!

Everyday this week I have returned home feeling exhausted but satisfied with my day. I feel incredibly blessed to share the lives of my Moroccan friends and know that good things are in store. I am right where I am meant to be. What an appropriate time for Thanksgiving!

*Big sigh of gratitude*

The Best Laid Schemes o' Mice and Women

Wednesday Plans (as seen in tiny notebook): Pay water bill, go to Dar Chebab, meet with supervisor, kaskrut with supervisor's family, meet with tutor and set a schedule for tutoring times, organize time to visit English classes at local high school, visit family in town for Wednesday fish dinner, start working on Peace Corps paperwork (site locator form, etc), yoga or walk.

Actual Wednesday events: Woke up at 5:30 am and couldn't fall back asleep. Yoga! Spent two hours at the money gram office waiting with twenty Moroccan men to pay my water bill. Starving. Ran into super nice (and tiny) man who works at local commune and agreed to have lunch with his family. Met family, watched Moroccan coverage of American Presidential election, chatted with kids. Man left (to apparently have lunch with other people?) and I had mutton and bread with his wife. Call from tutor, he is out of town and will return my call and meet with me on Thursday.

Regroup, Thursday is the new Wednesday.

Thursday Plans (again, as seen in tiny notebook): Go to Dar Chebab, meet with supervisor, kaskrut with supervisor's family, meet with tutor and set a schedule for tutoring times, organize time to visit English classes at local high school, visit family in town for Thursday kaskrut, start working on Peace Corps paperwork (site locator form, etc), yoga or walk.

Actual Thursday events: Morning yoga (!), go to Dar Chebab (closed), go to supervisor's house for morning kaskrut with family. Supervisor is nowhere to be found, instead find the house full of unknown women and children. Eat bread, drink tea, repeat while possibly being invited to a wedding (?), take my leave and return home. Return to Dar Chebab in the afternoon - no supervisor, some of my keys don't work and confusion reigns. Call from Bouchra (high school girl) and we hold an evening tutoring session on how to write a song and make plans to work on parody of "The One that Got Away" together. Evening kaskrut with her wonderful family. Return home, feeling pretty fantastic. No call from tutor.

Regroup, still working towards these goals, but most likely not happening this week...is it nearly the weekend after all.

Friday Plans (still in tiny notebook): Go to Dar Chebab, meet with supervisor, meet with tutor and set a schedule for tutoring times, organize time to visit English classes at local high school, visit host family for couscous lunch, start working on Peace Corps paperwork (site locator form, etc), yoga or walk.

Actual Friday events: Rainy morning and an unpleasant reminder that it's been three months since the assault. Tears. Life-giving phone call with fellow volunteer and virtual hug. Tears. Downloaded NPR podcasts while wishing that my family was around. Felt alone and exhausted. A few more phone calls and realized it was time to let myself have a break. Bought a bus ticket to N'Kob, ate with Moroccan friends, packed my bags.

Weekend plans: Rest and rejuvenation with a fellow volunteer. Read a book, watch a movie, eat popcorn, feel loved.

The plans might seem totally useless, but they give me some sort of structure in an otherwise structure less existence. Unlike in the States, I make a list of things to do knowing full well that at best 1/3 of these will be accomplished. I often find that by stepping outside of my house, I get swept up in events and occasions that are much greater than what I had "planned." Other times, I realize that my emotional and mental health have an agenda of their own. Morocco challenges me daily to open my hands and simply let life happen, for better or worse. This weekend that means planning to let myself mourn, relax and hopefully come back to site on Monday ready for another week of my "plans" while acknowledging the daily struggles and triumphs of life in Tazarine. 

Ridin' Solo

I am not a solitary person. Growing up, I was the girl who wanted to do everything with friends or family - shopping, eating, studying, watching TV,  playing outside, traveling, etc. Simple errands were more fun with Sabrina, swimming was better with Anna and no TRL show was successful without Christy by my side. As I've gotten older, I've been forced to do these activities as an individual. Not necessarily because I wanted to, but because I consistently put myself in situations where I had to sink or swim - solo. Semesters abroad and eventually living abroad taught me that I needed to spend more time alone in order to balance the overwhelming nature of conforming to a new culture. This has always been my greatest challenge - being a natural extrovert who has chosen to live in isolating circumstances. 

I remember my first Peace Corps interview - so excited to start on the path to this lifelong dream, but also aware that it would be my greatest challenge yet. Every time recruiters asked for my greatest fear regarding service, I knew it was isolation and loneliness. A few weeks into my return to Morocco and a week after my site mate's departure, I struggle with the combination of boredom, isolation and feeling disconnected from the world I live in. There are times when I feel on top of the world; having lunch with my community, connecting with the local shopkeeper, having tea with my landlord's extended family or even small personal challenges of finishing literature or connecting with a friend in the States. There are other times when I want nothing more than to get in a car, drive to the nearest big city and freaking having a beer and a cheeseburger with Americans. These feelings normally occur on the exact same day, or certainly within the same week. In a given day, I can praise God while I watch the sunrise and curse my restlessness during the sunset. It's not the same intense fluctuation as during training or my first month in site, but it's a child-sized roller coaster on certain days.

The interesting part about service is not that I am actually alone. When I choose it, I can be surrounded by my community all day long (or even all night long, if it suits my mood). My host family frequently asks if I am lonely, and I know that I am considered to be part of multiple families around town. Being with them makes me feel connected, loved and comfortable. It also makes me feel tired, inept with language and empty. I feel at ease in their presence, but also desire the comfort of my own home, dress and choice in food.

I am slowly learning to balance my own familiar need of connectedness with my newer desire for introverted self reflection. At this point, I take several hours a day to read literature, do devotions, sing, talk with family or friends and cook while also visiting members of my community during the afternoon or lunch hour. My hope is that as I begin to teach and gain energy from being passionate about my students' education, I will have additional energy to be involved in the lives' of the community members. Soon I won't have to read for three hours a day, but will be content with only a an hour of "me" time. 

At this point, I am doing my best to be patient with myself and my own transition into site and daily life in Morocco. I try to be kind when I don't have the energy for a Moroccan wedding, but also say "yes" to as many invitations as possible. It's a slow learning process, but I can feel myself growing stronger as the days pass me by. I grow accustomed to sitting and doing seemingly "nothing" for hours on end with Moroccans, to  cherish my rooftops sunsets and to be cheered with a successful trip to the patisserie. For the first time in Morocco, I feel content.

The Big Holiday, My First Eid al-Adha

After a few weeks of travel to both Marrakesh and Ouarzazate, I finally found myself back home in Tazarine. Since returning to country was a challenge, I feared that returning to my site would hold more of the same. I was pleasantly surprised when returning to Tazarine actually felt like returning home. Not the kind of home where everything is easy, there is a hot shower and a box of mac and cheese waiting for you (at least not yet), but a type of home nonetheless. After a few days of settling into apartment and finding a sense of rhythm, I began to make my visitation rounds to my friends and family in the community. This was great timing since I returned home just in time for the biggest holiday of the year known as Eid al-Adha or Eid al-Kabir (literally the Greater Holiday, as compared to the smaller holiday commemorating the end of Ramadan). 

To save you the trouble of google/wikipedia, Eid al-Adha is celebrated by Muslims worldwide to honor the willingness of the prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) to sacrifice his young first-born son, Ismail (Ishmael) as an act of submission to God's command and his son's acceptance to being sacrificed, before God intervened to provide Abraham with a ram to sacrifice instead. The holidays is exactly two months and ten days after the end of Ramadan and the overlap/conflict with Christianity is relatively obvious. In Morocco, the day begins with new clothes for the kids and watching the King slaughter his sheep on TV. Unfortunately, I spent the morning with a family whose TV was not working so I actually missed this epic event. Youtube couldn't help me out with this one, but if you want to sheep slaughtered, there are some lovely videos for you to choose from!

The butcher has his way with the sheep

Getting back on track, after the King slaughters his sheep, the rest of the country is free to do the same. This may be done by the local butcher, a neighbor or your dad. Whoever feels the urge, I suppose? I learned that my supervisor at the local youth center slaughtered every sheep on his block - props. Well, I missed the initial slitting of the throat since I was having my 8th cup of tea and 13th cookie of the morning with a neighbor, but I returned just in time to see the sheep thrashing around in its' own blood. Soon it was hoisted from the closest tree, its' legs were broken and it was skinned. Next the belly was slit, the insides were separated and the butcher even blew air through the intestines. Hungry yet? The city vegetarian in me could have done without the slitting of throat and the breaking of the legs, BUT the girls who loves biology really got into seeing the anatomy and watching air and poop travel through the entire system. It was both totally crazy and awesome. Not to mention that my community got a kick out of watching me be fascinated/horrified with this process since I don't exactly hide my emotions well.

Me, a neighbor of the family and two sheep heads.

After the slaughter, my site mate and I started a day of extreme visitation, Moroccan style. We spent time with her host family's cousins, the supervisor of the dar chebab (youth center), my landlord's extended family, a student at the high school and enjoyed a few other stops along the way. Olivia ate endless amounts of barbecued sheep (cooked on a small indoor grill) while I had LOADS of cake, cookies and tea. My body pretty much wanted to die at the end of the day, but I didn't have to eat liver wrapped in fat- win some, lose some.

This actually felt grosser than it looks, guu!

Ironically, I ended up getting ridiculously sick that same evening. I am guessing it was something lingering in my system, but the day of eating nothing but sugar surely didn't help. Despite my impending physical downward spiral, I had a sense of feeling connected to my community and had successfully participated in the biggest holiday of the year without throwing up or fainting. And yes, that is considered a success in the Peace Corps.