A First Look: Site Development

Every Peace Corps site starts somewhere: an empty youth center, an enthused supervisor and a hesitant community. Years of conversations over tea, lunch invitations, and endless stares from the locals will hopefully produce a willing host family and a group of supporters ready to engage with the unknown: a random American who will live among them for two years. This American will accidentally eat with their left hand, confuse words and awkwardly struggle towards being a part of the community life. The American will also dance at weddings, hold newborn babies and do their best to enrich the lives of the youth. It's a sacrifice, not just on the part of the volunteer, but on the part of the community. They open themselves up to the outside world and all the strangeness and conflict that comes with advantages.

Yesterday, my site-mate and I became a part of this delicate and exciting process. Biking three hours to a town nestled between Tazarine and Zagora, we discovered a unspoiled village of 5,000 people. A paved road has opened in the area in the last five years, but even with this advancement, foreigners are rarely seen. Melanie and I peddled our bikes past dilapidated kasbahs, groups of women brilliantly dressed in shades of crimson all the while children called after us in broken French for pens or money. After asking various members of the community, we were led to the youth center. Devouring snickers and water, we waited patiently for the man with the keys.

Taghbalt has remained without a volunteer for several years. There have been previous visits to this town by Peace Corps staff and volunteers, however it's always been determined that the level of poverty is too high. Finding a suitable host family is a struggle and support for the work of the volunteer is lacking. After meeting with the 'supervisor' (the president of a local association who merely holds the keys to the to the youth center), we felt discouraged. Apparently the youth center is being used solely for women's literacy classes and the supervisor doubted that the volunteer would have space to work or even interested children. The fatigue of the morning bike ride and frustration with the supervisor started to set in. Let's have some tea.

Everything changed over our three cups of tea. Suddenly we had not just one member of our Tazarine community with us, but four! We were joined by our supervisor at the Tazarine Dar Chebab, an English teacher in a nearby community and an English teacher working in Tazarine but originally from Taghbalt. To improve matters, this English teacher brought three other teachers in the community for support. Talk about your game changer! Over the next three hours we heard conversations ranging from the creation of an association for the Dar Chebab, work possibilities for the new volunteer and even our Tazarine supervisor gushing about our good work. It was the kind of meeting Peace Corps volunteers dream of: our counterparts convincing other communities that the sacrifice is significant, that our work is worthwhile.

The day ended with not one, but two lunches. At a certain point, it no longer mattered that Melanie and I were present. Our counterparts had the energy and were passionate about working with the youth all over the region. One of the rarely stated goals of Peace Corps is to put ourselves out of business. To make our work sustainable in communities and pass on our skills to the local people instead of depending on a foreigner. Yesterday in Taghbalt, I saw the fruits of our labors. We are rapidly putting ourselves out of business in Tazarine, and I couldn't be happier. 

And I am a Material Girl.

Living in a Material World.

As I made my excuses for leaving early, I realized that I was only sprinting to the door because of my level of discomfort. During a lunch with one of my closest friends in town, she had asked to borrow my internet modem, usb stick, book, guitar, and bike. On top of this, a request for money to build a kitchen sink was requested from both myself and a previous volunteer. Remembering the letters, emails and in-person requests for various items she had sent to both my parents, other volunteers and even parents of other volunteers in recent weeks, I was deflated and frustrated. Do you like me or my resources?

And I am a Material Girl.

Nothing is new about this: I've been asked for my ipod, computer, clothes, hair, money, camera, shoes, water bottle, purse, refrigerator, and pen a million times. Sometimes by kids on the road, "give me a pen!" or "give me a dirham (moroccan currency);" sometimes by people attending my classes, "that ipod is nice, give it to me;" sometimes by friends, "I like your scarf, give it to me when you leave." A teenage girl in Marrakesh even asked for my ice cream cone - that was offensive on a whole new level. I seriously needed that ice cream cone on that day, if only she knew! Despite my current status as a poorly dressed volunteer, something about me screams 'opportunity' to the people around me.

Living in a Material World.

An association of well-meaning French women came to Tazarine last Spring, passing out free pens and notebooks while they traveled. Without being overly critical of their motivations, it's incredibly easy to throw money at people. It's what the developed world has done for years in the form of aid, sponsored children and money in the communion basket. Try to get those same people to mentor a child, and well, "I don't have time for that."

And I am a Material Girl.

One of the ongoing challenges of any Peace Corps volunteer (or any Westerner living in the developing world) is to demonstrate that we are here to work and develop relationships, not as a walking piggy bank. When I first arrived, my supervisor informed me that my legacy would be to get a photocopy machine at the youth center. My rebellious nature immediately and internally countered with a "hell no." I was determined that my legacy would live inside the hearts and minds of the Tazarine people, not as a piece of technology. Is this stubborn and short-sighted? Quite possibly. Could the youth center use a photocopy machine? It sure could, but it would mostly be used by the supervisor as a sign of his great achievements. There are also ten computers in this center that the children weren't allowed to use until this year, so baby steps with technology.

Living in a Material World.

I've grown accustomed to the friendship styles in Tazarine; while it may frustrate me, I acknowledge that gifts and the free exchange of personal goods is part of the game. I bring posters of Adam Lambert from America and she helps me sort out issues with my landlord. My reaction to the kitchen sink request was unusual - it's practical since her mother has severe back issues from using a bucket on the ground for 45 years; yet her recent involvement of my family members has turned me sour. It's okay to bother me with these things, but don't spread the guilt.

And I am a Material Girl.

Maybe that is the rub. Ignoring the nagging guilt has become a habit for me but it becomes real again when family members inquire about it. I've learned to rationalize my wealth; I use my computers and ipods for work, I am accustomed to having a larger wardrobe for different seasons, I need two of everything in case one breaks. There are days when I give freely, and there are days when I am tired of being asked. I don't want my friendship to come with ropes attached. I don't want to be reminded of the massive difference between us.

Living in a Material World.

This is why we flood countries with goods instead of smiling faces and helping hands. Why we have a picture of the sponsored Ugandan girl on our fridge instead of meeting her. Why we give money to the church and stay away from the volunteer center. When we step outside our front door, we realize that we can't justify everything in our living room and bank account. The reality of the have and have-nots can be soul-crushing. Her mom has back pain and just wants a kitchen sink - my Christmas list is comparatively shameful.

And I am a Material Girl.