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.
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.
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