Full Circle: Healthy Living in the Peace Corps

"Has the assault changed your service? Do you think that your life is on a different trajectory than it was one year ago?"

YES.

At the time it was challenging to respond to the well-meaning question without a touch of sarcasm in my voice. Of course my service and my person were fundamentally changed, how could they not be? Can anyone pass through a traumatic experience unscathed? If you cut me, I bleed - but that's not the end of the story.

Later in the day, I met with members of Peace Corps staff and Volunteer representatives to discuss the plight of volunteers facing medivac, the term used for sending volunteers to the states for treatment or recovery for a medical reason, as well as addressing similar hardships faced while remaining in Morocco. The meeting went smoothly, but it felt like the majority of the committees were stuck in the mud of turnover and bureaucracy. Nearly a year after my assault and medivac, I was still receiving calls about volunteers whose experiences paralleled my own. Volunteers who were isolated in Rabat, volunteers who felt their mental health concerns were diminished and volunteers who returned to site without a follow-up call or way forward.

Peace Corps staffing and training depended on approval from Washington, budgets and bureaucracy. Having voiced my concerns multiple times, I decided it was time to stop waiting for Washington to catch up and act on my own. Turning my focus from staff concerns to volunteer-to-volunteer action, I began working on the first "Health Living Workshop." Collaborating with Melanie, an insightful volunteer who is well-versed in dance therapy and mental health, we began discussions on the gaps in volunteer support and where our knowledge and passion could be utilized.

Workshops inspired from our shared experiences and struggles began to emerge. Incorporating yoga, meditation, art therapy and group discussions to the curriculum, we set our intentions beyond mental health concerns and focused on the overall well-being of the volunteer. After several months of preparation, we concluded that the focus of the workshops would be to :

• Learn techniques to maintain health and manage stress
• Provide support to volunteers through shared experiences across training groups
• Raise awareness about how to navigate mental health issues in Peace Corps Morocco
• Help volunteers find joy in Peace Corps life, not just ‘get through it’

Retreats took place in Tissint and Foum Oudi, reaching volunteers from various training groups, mental health backgrounds and life experiences. Together we acknowledged the painful moments which led us to participate in these workshops, our current struggles and motivated each other to move past the hurt and into a better version of ourselves. We cried together, breathed together and encouraged each other. 

I have been blessed by these retreats - it feels selfish that I get to continually benefit from the keen insights of my resilient friends and co-workers. They inspire me to leap forward, to smile more and to never stop believing in the beauty of the volunteer experience. My cup runneth over. 

After two successful rounds of workshops with volunteers in Tissint and Foum Oudi, it was clear that this retreat was beneficial to the Peace Corps community. Encouraged by the volunteer testimonials, we created a curriculum that was passed on to the next group of facilitators in a 'training of the trainers' workshop in early April. It was bittersweet to watch the new facilitators to plan their first retreat; I felt proud that my workshops would continue to improve the lives of volunteers, but saddened that I wouldn't be part of the process after April 30. 

"Has the assault changed your service? Do you think that your life is on a different trajectory than it was one year ago?"

Yes, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Certificates for Everyone, On Me!

First Annual Greater Tazarine English Teacher's Conference 

While taking the final pictures at the teacher's conference, I looked around and realized that I've never been so proud of my Peace Corps service. After two years of discussions over tea, classroom demonstrations, meetings with the Ministry of Education and brainstorming sessions, my counterparts and I were handing out certificates of participation to 13 local teachers. This is only the beginning.

Two years ago I was teaching English classes at the youth center, frustrated by the inconsistent attendance and being asked to 'teach someone English' in just a few weeks so they could pass an exam.  I was a native speaker surrounded by well-trained English teachers; sure I had the upper hand on pronunciation and slang but what do I know about passive voice, modals or the present perfect? What am I doing offering free tutoring to students when they have capable teachers next door? After finishing my classes for the first year, I decided to forgo the unsustainable model and proceed with promoting capacity-building for English teachers.

Mohamed, my amazing tutor and future counterpart, did his best to keep me focused during our Darija (Moroccan Arabic) tutoring sessions, but I always managed to start a discussion on the role of teachers in the high school, the lack of training available for new teachers and stereotypes that teachers face. Public school teachers are sent anywhere in the country after passing their exam and frequently asked to teach a subject they have not been trained in. The French teacher studied economics, the Math teacher majored in English and the Physics teacher has a predilection for Arabic studies. Frequently on strike for inconsistent government policies, teachers are perceived as lazy outsiders in their communities. They earn less than the uneducated owner of the local market and are charged 'outsider' fees. American teachers may be undervalued and underpaid, but no one argues that they are essential to the future of the U.S. or don't earn their meager paycheck.

Mohamed and I started sharing our experiences as teachers, formally and informally. Recognizing my passion for an engaging classroom atmosphere, Mohamed invited me to observe his English class and eventually run activities with the students. After comparing our complementary teaching styles, we discussed the need for this ongoing development in the Zagora province. The public schools of Zagora experience roughly a 70% teacher turnover rate every year; many new teachers lack a basic understanding of lesson planning and learning styles and could benefit from further training. In addition, veteran teachers lack excitement for their subject matter. Teaching to the baccalaureate exam a lecture-focused pedagogy prevents them from helping students fall in love with funny idiomatic expressions or the quadratic equation.

Originally focused on the Zagora province, Mohamed and I traveled south to gain the approval of the Ministry for a provincial teacher's conference. Several months later we realized that the never-ending red tape, bi-lingual applications and cancelled meetings had gone too far. We could no longer conceivably get Peace Corps grant approval and Ministry approval in the short time remaining before I finished my service. Frustrated from months of arduous meetings and travel between the two sites, we opted for a break. The conference felt daunting for one tired volunteer and a man expecting his first baby - maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

Refreshed from vacation, Mohamed and I met again to re-examine teacher development in Tazarine. Engaging a few other teachers and counterparts in the meeting, it was decided that a local teachers' conference could have the same impact for the community. Four hours of brainstorming workshops, presentations, time, location and pitfalls brought us to a conference at the end of March...less than one month away. Slightly panicked we started making calls, setting meetings and mapping out the conference. My counterparts were impressive - we played equal roles in the planning process and they never missed a meeting or failed to complete their work.

Sunday, March 30th finally arrived and so did the participants. The morning started with three presentations covering the topics of ITC, integrating art in the classroom and the benefits of educational videos for English students and continued with a workshop on icebreakers, energizers and games. Participants and presenters bonded and laughed over a big lunch of chicken, salad, lentils and fruit before heading back to the afternoon sessions. The afternoon commenced with my workshop on the practical classroom uses of Multiple Intelligence theory and ended with another volunteer's enjoyable take on drama activities. Following a brief evaluation, certificate ceremony and the obligatory group picture, the conference came to a close.
While assessing the final to-do list for the conference, I looked around at my counterparts and realized that they were my Peace Corps service. My second year has been dedicated to long nights of discussion and planning at the cafe, helping them locate resources, encouraging their ideas and making them advocates for excellent teaching techniques in the English classroom. My work may be coming to and end, but their work has only just begin. In their presence I am never 'the token female American;' I am a respected colleague and friend. Mohamed O, Mourad, Amin, Mohamed E and Said, among others, remind me that the young Moroccan harassing me on the bus is the exception, not the rule. When I leave Morocco in one month, more than anything, I will miss laughing hysterically with my friends. Tbark3la llikum.

They are the best.

Satellite Call

The call. The email. The facebook message.

They all begin the same way, “I’m sorry but I have some bad news;” your stomach drops, your heartbeat quickens and you go through the worst case scenarios. There are the ones that you’ve ‘prepared’ for as much as anyone can prepare for bad news, the ones that aren’t as terrible as you suspected and then there are the losses that you never saw coming. In one quick communication, everything changes. That workshop you were worrying about? It doesn’t really matter. That amazing trip you are planning? Seems like more of a nuisance than an invigorating journey. That meeting in 20 minutes? Could it matter any less right now? You hang up the phone, close the email, exit facebook and feel the shock and disbelief. So many things to do but you are sitting on the wrong side of the world.

I was recently asked how one makes the choice to leave home while there are so many people who want you to stay. Yesterday I would have responded with a banal ‘follow your heart’ and a monologue on the many benefits of starting over and embracing adventure as an adult. That was yesterday. This morning I woke up cursing my independent streak, overwhelmed by feelings of selfishness for my habitual absence. I woke up with my heart hurting for my gentle friend, her generous family and their terrible loss. I woke up wanting nothing more than to give her the biggest bear hug and with the power to undo the past.

As much as I want to dwell in self-pity, I recognize there is nothing I could “do” on the other side of the ocean except simply be present. Mourning is meant to be done communally, not fighting tears alone in the apartment. Today I want nothing more than to invade the home of a friend for forty days. To sit with her, her family and friends and share tears, memories, hugs and melancholy laughter. To just be present. Instead, I mourn the best that I can, sending love, lights, prayers and thoughts to Michigan. A great, big bear hug is just over six weeks away.

This one’s for the lonely child

Broken hearted, running wild

This was written for the one to blame

One who believes they are the cause of chaos and everything

You may find yourself in the dead of night

Lost somewhere up in the great big beautiful sky

You were all just perfect little satellites

Spinning round and round this broken earthly life

This is so you’ll know the sound

Of someone who loves you from the ground

Tonight you’re not alone at all

This is me sending out my satellite call

This is so you’ll know the sound

Of someone who loves you from the ground

Tonight you’re not alone at all

This is me sending out my satellite call

Sara Bareilles' "Satellite Call"