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.