Death and All His Friends

Transportation accidents may be the highest cause of the death in the developing world, but I think 'daily life' should come in at a close second. This term may be vague, but then again, who knows when it will strike!? A short list of the bodily perils of the past few weeks, for your holiday reading pleasure:

1) Need I remind you of 'ye olde ladder' which gave me nightmares of being eaten alive by cats? I think not. 

2) While attempting to fix my toilet, my handy dandy landlord offered me what looked like a bottle of wine. Had I been in a non-Muslim country, I might have instantly tucked it away for consumption. Considering my surroundings, I took a look before storing it underneath my sink and realized it was extremely strong poison/chemical intended to destroy the inside of anything. Perhaps a more distinguishable container would be effective?

3) While using my buta gas oven for the first time, I apparently turned the gas on too high and practically burned by eyebrows off when the flames shot out at all directions. The worst part was not the heart attack which immediately followed, but that I destroyed by banana date flax seed bread that I had spent two months collecting the ingredients for. I continued my oven debacles by over-salting and under cooking my granola. Back to the stove, the oven is too much for me.

4) Walking back from the weekly market (souq), a kind housewife threw a bucket of dirty water directly in front of me, missing my body by inches. She was horrified and spout out two minutes of apologies before letting me go on my way. In retrospect, I can't believe that I didn't get an invitation for tea...strange.

5) After a particularly vigorous aerobics class, I walked to a friend's home and discussed the water outage on my side of town. Shortly after entering her home, she offered me a plastic bottle with a clear liquid. Assuming it was water (aerobics, water outage, yes), I opened the bottle and went to take a drink. Just before the 'water' hit my lips I was overcome by the smell of chemical death and my friends' scream. Turns out this 'water' bottle was holding the paint thinner she had mentioned several days ago, which I could use to clean various parts of my house. Thank goodness for a sense of smell. 

6) Shortly after returning home with my bottle of poison, I tipped it over and spilled the paint thinner all over my kitchen floor. Not being overly familiar with the clean-up of paint thinner, I let my friend take the lead. She promptly took my sponge (which I use to clean dishes) and poured bleach in a bowl (again, which I use to clean dishes) and then soaked up the paint thinner with a combination of bleach and dish detergent. No explosion on this one, but I prepared myself for the end. I have since demoted the sponge to new toilet-related opportunities...the bowl may still be in use.

7) For roughly two weeks following the paint and paint thinner incidents, my house reeked of chemicals. It was too cold to constantly keep the windows open, so I ventilated for a few hours in the afternoon and then closed my bedroom door in the evening to try and keep the smell out. It didn't work. I may have been teaching English unintentionally high as a kite that week.

 

8) My new hot water heater has the fun side effect of sparking every time my upstairs neighbors use their water. When I tried to fix the problem, the heater simply stopped working. After consulting the installation guy, I've decided to let it spark. How bad can it be? And no, I have not yet set up my carbon monoxide detector. I swear it's on my list!

9) The birds flying in my house used to be cute, until they started perching on my door frames waiting to take me during a particularly intense 'Zeus' weekend. Chasing them out has become increasingly difficult and I get the sense they are working together with the flies - a plot is afoot! 

10) Finally, my neighbors started construction of my roof this week everyday from sunrise to sunset. It seems they are changing my dearly loved and needed roof into a home for their extended family. Did they tell me? No. Is there anything that I can do? Not really. It's pretty frustrating on a number of levels. Getting back to the point, the men doing the construction aren't overly concerned with the items constantly 'getting away from them' on the rooftop. There have been a few times where I hear the explosion of bricks or thump of wood hitting the ground just moments after stepping into my apartment building. There are no words.

Hopefully my luck changes after my upcoming vacation and time away from site. Despite the dangers of transportation, I am unconvinced it can be worse than walking outside my house, drinking my water or cleaning in Morocco. All I want for Christmas is to make it to next Sunday! 

A Sort of Homecoming

Two months ago my Moroccan apartment was filled with dead cockroaches, dirty walls and explosive plumbing. One month ago my salon was nothing more than a pile of stuff waiting to be sorted and a kitchen of unknown spices and sauces. In the last two weeks, I have successfully turned the corner from a mskina (poor) volunteer coming home to a ugly cement block to a disorganized, busy woman who is in the midst of vast home improvements. It feels good. While the apartment is still a work in progress, I am increasingly returning to a place that I am proud to call my own.

Project 1 -  The Hot Water Heater and Shower
Initially started in late October, this project has consisted of moving a working hot water heater from my former site mate's apartment to my home on the other side of town. Relegated to the sidelines for weeks, this project finally got underway when Olivia was officially leaving (aka, the heater needed a new home) and it was starting to turn chillier in the South. Weeks passed with the heater sitting outside of my bathroom. The man who was supposed to do the installation was initially out of town on holiday, then I was out of town for work, followed by a week or two of me simply not caring about heat.

Two weeks ago, I decided that enough was enough and I wasn't about to take another cold bucket bath in this house. Ahmed turned out to be a master of his craft. We had a terribly confusing discussion in Darija regarding the installation process (pretty sure I agreed to simply 'everything' to make matters easier). For roughly six hours Ahmed and his worker bee, a man who turned out to be the creepy stalker from the oven incident, turned my sad bathroom into a glorious hammam of warmth and western luxuries. I couldn't understand a single word on the bill, but I was happy to pay this man-angel whatever amount he asked for since he brought me hot water at the touch of a button and the first shower I had taken in two months. Take my firstborn, Ahmed, it's totally worth it.

Project 2 - Painting the Walls
Everyone told me to simply pay someone to paint my walls - labor is inexpensive, the work is long and I didn't have any of the materials. Maybe it's because my mom loves to paint so much, but the idea of asking someone else to do that manual labor seemed silly. Looking back, it might have been the better option. I've never painted household walls before, let alone in the developing world. I quickly discovered that I hadn't the foggiest idea how to go about doing this. I knew that I wanted strong colors, I would need a ladder, and it would take time - besides that I was totally clueless.

The search for supplies began at the end of October when I narrowed down the only store in town that sold paint, mind you, it took me another two weeks before I was able to ascertain what colors they sold. Little by little, I managed to purchase brushes, oil-based colors, dilution and a GIANT can of white paint which I had to enlist Leah's help in carrying back to my apartment. Between the two of us, it was still an unreasonable feat.

While Leah's dad skype-questioned my choice in colors (hot pink bathroom!) and inquired as to whether the paints were oil or water-based, I realized I hadn't the foggiest idea what I got myself into. During the mixing process I sacrificed several spoons and scissors since I couldn't find paint sticks, several useful buckets previously used for laundry and bathing as well as an endless number of shirts and linens. Using my refrigerator as a ladder, Leah and I managed to paint my bedroom walls purple. We have may encountered chunks of the wall falling off and a slight disaster with the back wall turning a completely different shade, but overall it was deemed "good enough!"

Traveling, the start of classes and cold weather left me in a tight spot for continued painting. I wanted to pursue the project, however late November was clearly not the best time. Since I had obtained a giant ladder from approximately 1954, I decided to attack the kitchen with a bold green before winter set in.The mixing and set-up process was much smoother the second time around and I was thrilled not to be pushing my giant refrigerator from place to place every five minutes. Paint in hand and classic rock blaring, I clambered up the rickety ladder with a smile on my face. Surely, this has "American success" written all over it!

Then I fell off. No really. About ten minutes into the process, the ladder wobbled as I tried to place my weight on a non-existent step and collapsed onto the ground. Quickly scanning my body and surroundings, I determined that my right knee and back were sore and I had hit my head; in spite of it all, there didn't seem to be permanent damage and I hadn't even spilled my paint. Lying on the kitchen floor, I thought of possible other outcomes of this situation and was relieved that Moroccans knock on my door several times a day. Best not to be found three days later, eaten by cats.

A few minutes later Boushra had arrived at my doorstep and we continued the painting process in tandem. She proved to be a quick and efficient worker, not to mention she was giving up her free afternoon to help the American girl with unnecessary labor. Not sure how many of us would do the same. Between the two of us, we finished the spearmint green kitchen in less than three hours while listening to Adele on repeat. After a long clean-up process, I said goodbye to Boushra and strolled into my wonderful shower for the first time. Thanks to the help of my Moroccan and American friends, my apartment was one step closer to being a home.

Project 3 - Decorating for Christmas, Hanging up photos,etc etc etc

Leah learns the hard way that oil-based paint doesn't come out easily. Redrum.

After adding the dilution, my purple paint turned into a lovely shade of  feces

My kitchen that lives in the entryway...

Another chance at success on the ladder

I will get there, but it might take a few weeks...

There was pie.

This year marked my fourth Thanksgiving overseas and I've gotten fairly used to missing the normal Turkey day festivities of the States. Fortunately, it's never been my favorite holiday and missing the day doesn't particularly pull at my heart strings. While I love spending Christmas with my family, Thanksgiving has always been that awkward holiday where one side of the family is visiting in-laws, the other is on the other side of the country, and I am left having to make choices between members of my nuclear family. I look forward to someday reclaiming the holiday with my own family, but for now I find pleasure in sharing the customs and oddities of the day with foreigners.

I spent the week of Thanksgiving giving mini descriptions of the holiday to family, friends and students in Morocco. In the shortened version, I focused on the amount of food people eat, spending time with family and of course saying 'thanks to God' for all the good things we have in life. After creating a two part lesson plan, split into the history of Thanksgiving and modern day celebrations, I was able to discuss the holiday at length with some of my Bac students. I showed students pictures of the Macy's Parade, volunteering at a soup kitchen and the all important turkey. After delving into these important subjects, I digressed into fun cultural points such as the best way to eat pumpkin pie and why people sleep outside Walmart on Black Friday.

In general my students reacted with interest to the holiday, even getting into their roles as "Pilgrims" or "Native Americans" in creative writing. One student noted they learned that the Pilgrims eventually killed Native Americans and wanted to know what exactly we were celebrating. Isn't history fun?! Another student made the remark that Moroccans don't need a specific holiday to 'thank God' because they give thanks to God everyday. I was surprised by the number of older Moroccans who were familiar with the idea of Black Friday and wanted to know if this insanity actually occurred. Let's just say the 'crazy' hand gesture was used frequently in these conversations.

As for my American celebration, I was invited to a nearby volunteer's home for a weekend of food, company and solid relaxation. Our amazing cooks had boxed stuffing, cranberry, canned pumpkin and marshmallows sent from the States, making it a fantastically American meal. We substituted chicken for turkey since they are hard to come by in the south and the vegetarians feasted on a veggie quiche. Complete with green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and two types of pie, the meal was a success.

Palmerie photo op

The view from above, drool!

Hello lovely

Susan and I stopping for sustenance on the way up

Before and after meals, a few of the volunteers explored the town's palmerie and hiked the nearby mountains. Both of these activities are available to me on a daily basis in Tazarine, however, it's not always the best idea to do solo adventures in the rocky desert, regardless of the country. Fresh air, good company and the beautiful terrain relaxed and refocused me for the upcoming holiday season. This year, I am thankful for real pumpkin pie, watching the Muppets and desert mountain hikes with engaging volunteers. Ahamdullilah!