Independence

Beni Snassen 3id Kbir Soccer Tournament

Today I want to wish Morocco a happy independence day. After 44 years under Spanish and French occupation, in 1956 Morocco became the independent kingdom that I now live in. I wont proclaim to know much about Moroccan history. Most of my information comes from Lonely Planet and Wikipedia. However, it seems coincidentally interesting that this 55th celebration falls so near one of modern Morocco’s greatest turning points. In a week from now, Morocco will be taking a new step not only towards a more comprehensive democracy as a nation, but also towards a more inclusive, and representative role for its citizens. That’s the theory anyway. I’m no expert on Moroccan politics, but my observations in Tafoghalt show an overall sense of guarded optimism. The Arab Spring that ripped through this part of the world earlier this year and is still happening in parts of the Middle East did not skip Morocco. Although it largely avoided the headlines because it was relatively peaceful, the movement for government reforms spread through Morocco with popular support. In response, the king introduced a round of reforms that include, among other things, a more regionally representative dissemination of power. Similar to congress men (and women [I’ve seen a few campaign fliers for women candidates]), these representatives are the reason that campaign teams have been wandering around town handing out information, politicians are buying tons of tea and cookies, and the streets are littered with piles of fliers full of sullen faced men in their nicest suits. Without disclosing too much of my own opinion (PC rules), I too have some apprehension about the elections. In the year and a half that I have spent here, I have become too well aware of the culture of politics that permeates small town Morocco. In fact it’s not so different from American politics. Just multiply the beurocracy by 5. Often divided by family or proximity, politicians seem as often as not, barriers to progress and reform. The mighty stamp rules the land! If you are not on its good side…well, good luck. But these elections are meant to give the people more national representation, and I have nothing but hope that they will honestly and peacefully accomplish their intentions. The demonstrations that marked the Arab Spring in Morocco were full of discontented young people with few demands other than that someone provide them a job. I don’t see this election a fulfillment to that wish per se. I do see it as a step that falls in line with Peace Corps’ philosophy on handouts. Instead of directly giving people the things they demand, these elections are empowering people so that they can determine their own future. As for myself, I've been having some personal revelations as to my own independence. Maybe I'll write about those next time. In the mean time I found this article to be well written, insightful, and extremely relatable. Its been floating around the Peace Corps world. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/maya-lau/what-the-peace-corp-taugh_b_1099202.html

Oh the holidays!

Its been a long time in coming and full of close calls, but today, finally, I feel like I completely belong here in Tafoghalt and Morocco. When I arrived at my families home this morning, there wasn’t any of the pomp and circumstance that used to mark my arrivals. Just a few quiet, familial greetings and a little surprise at how early I had come. I explained to them that I didn’t want to miss the slaughter of the ram like I did last 3id Kbir. They acknowledged the reply like it made perfect sense, which for me to be understood on the first attempt, is an accomplishment in itself, and continued preparing for the slaughter. For my host father, Ramdan, this meant performing ablution and going to the mosque to pray, for my host mom, Cherifa, it meant getting as much cake and coffee down my throat as possible, and for the my two brothers and sister, it meant waiting patiently. The electric feel in the air pleasantly reminded me of Christmas morning before presents are opened.

I’m not writing this to explain how 3id Kbir (literally translates to “big holiday”) happens, however. The ram was slaughtered, ALL body parts squeezed and cleaned, and lots of fresh meat was eaten. No, I want to shout for joy, to proclaim to the world that this year 3id happened with me not to me! What I mean to say is that I was an active participator. No longer an observer being tiptoed around, I was given tasks, splattered with blood, and had poo exlode out of the intestines all over me. I was in the thick and dirty of it!

This may not sound like a big deal, but in my world where just about every day I get up and am reminded that I’m the Waldo in this picture (one of these people is not like the others), any semblance of being treated like everyone else gives me fortitude like nothing else. It is not a fault that Moroccan’s are so generous, but I am always treated like royalty. I get the most food first. Hosts bring out special treats just for me. I’m almost never allowed to help or do any work in return.

So this morning when Ramdan demanded (not asked) that I grab that ram and help him, I jumped at it like some kid who finally gets to help his father with some new “grownup” task. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t profusely excused. It was a full on blood and guts job, and for a morning I felt for the first time that language, culture, and everything else that makes me different were put aside and I was, finally, not the guy in the striped shirt.

Thoughts

The summer light is slowly ebbing away. Dying embers of the African sun drop through the incoming Sea clouds and splash on the sides of the mountains sending bright shafts of dusty light sliding back down into the valley. The radiating warmth that only a few weeks ago was suppressing heat is now welcome company in the quickly chilling air. Fall warmth that forces a smile on my face. The red dirt is parched from a very long dry season. Every step I take kicks up a hanging cloud that marks my path on the side of this empty potholed road. Give me a drink! it seems to cry. Give me a drink, and let me begin the messy business of settling down. Striking me as true, I think in agreement, "I’m ready for change too, for the quenching rains of winter, for the unknown that lies beyond Peace Corps, but shwiya b shwiya (little by little). Basking in the sun was fun, and like dry dust, being picked up here and dropped there, it was exciting. But I too am ready to soak up the rain, settle down, and help grow the seeds that have been sown".

These solitary walks through the Beni Snassen Mountains are becoming more contemplative, full of doubt, wonder, and a strong sense of excitement for the things to come. I have six months left in Morocco.Not long ago that would have seemed like a pretty substantial chunk of time. Certainly enough to accomplish projects, see the sights, and develop some meaningful relationships. No longer! Six months now seems like barely enough time to decide what I want to take home with me. And I don’t even need any bureaucratic stamps to figure that out. Yet here I am with 3/4th of my service past, and I am ready, oh so ready, to make something of my service. Over the last six months I have slogged through the sticky muck feeling of Peace Corps worthlessness. I have tried and I have failed at projects. I have been on the verge of calling it quits. But now, as I stagger out of that slog, I see my service for what it really is, and I see my life after for what I want it to be.

My worth as a Peace Corps volunteer in Tafoghalt, Morocco does not lie in physical projects. Fresh water available to all: check. Electricity: check. Education: check. Trash collection: check. Wifi in the school: check. No. I think I always knew that my physical contributions as an unqualified, unskilled, unconnected volunteer with a poor grasp of Arabic would probably not move this community up the general income scale, but it has taken me until now to be able to find professional worth in what I AM doing. Everyone wants to see quantitative results from their hard work. Some people are able to wait for a long time for that. Others, like myself, like to see continual development build upon itself in real time. In the world of individual relationship building this is possible, but in the world of community relationship building results can be agonizingly slow and even when they come to fruition they aren’t always positive.

Here’s an example: Over the last year and a half I have been trying, sometimes hard sometimes not, to build at least some relationship with all the people I see every day. Of course doing that in the States would be a task, but here where the spoken language is often not even the one I’m learning (Arabic. They speak Tarafit), the names of the people are hard to remember, and the nature of friendship is so different from what I’m used to, the task often feels impossible. But slowly I am accomplishing this shallow community wide relationship while, simultaneously chipping away at a few more meaningful individual relationships. Being an American in a highly Arab, Muslim society, however, means that building relationships isn’t always smooth sailing. Whether I agree with American policy or not, I’m often seen as the guy to direct anger against Israel or US foreign policies. As people in my community have become more comfortable with my presence, a few with anti-American sentiments have approached me and directed their anger at me.

As an employee and, therefore, a representative of the United States government, I don’t feel like this anger is wrongly directed nor have I ever felt threatened by it. On a personal level, however, it has become one of the hardest things I deal with. When I try so hard to represent a different side of America, its hard not to resent accusations of violence, manipulation, and greed. I’ve come to a point of acceptance though. Of this, and of all the other rasps that used to grab at me and hold me back. More than anything else I am here to represent the United States, to build relationships, and to show Americans that Morocco, as different from the US as it is, deserves respect and a fair perception.

As my professional life and personal life are so intertwined here, acceptance of the limitations and challenges of the one have led to happiness in the other. Yes, I still resent certain aspects of Moroccan culture. But, I have come to accept these things as they are. It is not my fight to fight.

And just as the dust that follows me will eventually settle back down in its rightful place, so will I. As I follow the paths through the mountains (the same paths that I discovered with such excitement when I first got here), I often dwell on these thoughts. They have not always been good or constructive, but they are the one thing that I can see building off each other. And now, as the sun of my service is hitting its western horizon I am realizing the true value of what I have here and what I want after.

But more on that later.