Maroc, Je T'aime
Here’s another Peace Corps blog. The great thing about Peace Corps blogs is that you get to see what it is like for Americans to be totally immersed in Morocco.
Often the volunteers live in remote villages where there are no other foreigners. They interact with the people, they affect and are affected by the culture, and in general there is a genuine love and concern for the people they are working and living with.
Consider the bio of Nicole, the author of this blog:
I’m a 20-something who’s batting for Team I’m Spending My Golden Years in Africa. Seriously, though, I’m a Peace Corps volunteer in the beautiful country of Morocco. I grew up in southeastern Michigan,and graduated in the spring of 2008 from the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) with a degree in linguistics, and Arabic and Islamic studies. After arriving here on 4 March 2009, I trained for two months in the province of Azilal. I now reside in the Tiznit province, which is part of the Souss region.
Official documentation regards me as a cooperante de santé, though I’m serving currently as a waste management infrastructure consultant (which is exactly as glamorous as it sounds, trust me). My village is just shy of 2000 people and we speak Tasoussit, which is a dialect of Tashlheit, which is a dialect that falls under the umbrella of “Berber.”
No, not Arabic — I said Berber. This distinction is very important.
On a personal note, I favor tea to coffee and hand-written letters to emails. I have a borderline-obsession with scarves and I make it a habit to trash talk on a daily basis. Should you want to talk to trash, scarves or hot beverages with me, or if you’re looking for an in-depth analysis of the international postal system
Now consider this recent post in which Nicole admits that she has stolen something from her host family….now this is good blogging!
That’s right, I did it. I slipped something that used to belong to my host family into my pocket and took it home with me. What I did is un-Islamic, unethical, and really, just blatantly wrong. But like I said, it was for the sake of entertainment… so, blame away.
Know that if you laugh, however, the universe will likely consider you an accomplice.
My weekly visit to Host Family was rough today. After nearly breaking a toe whilst wading through the river to get to their house, I found out that Host Mom is ill once again; in fact, she collapsed yesterday evening. Host Mom and Host Dad have hit a rough-patch in their relationship, and the kids were home from school because of last night’s outrageous (and I don’t use that word lightly) thunderstorm.
I thought that I was going to lose my nerve and walk out of the house before lunch was ready until Host Brother – remember him? He’s the cute one that, as of today, still thinks he’s coming back to America with me – presented me with a small instruction manual. Hoping that they were instructions on how to get through lunch with my sanity intact, I opened up the book and took a look.
The booklet was in fact a set of English-language instructions for a recently-purchased washing machine. As I read through the instructions, I couldn’t help but laugh.
…out loud.
…for an extended period of time.
…and at a rather loud volume.
The combination non-native English (remember, folks, that “in order to prevent the clothing the button makes the sound, it’s better to put the clothes with button inside other clothes”) and helpful illustrations (I found the sweating washing machine holding an umbrella and standing under a grimacing sun to be particularly informative) were enough to lift me from my bad mood, put the top-of-the-lungs argument I had just witnessed out of my mind and to even help me enjoy the undercooked, undersalted lentils that we had for lunch.
I got such a laugh out of the booklet that, after confirming that the whole thing was in English and that I wasn’t going to be removing any information crucial for the operation of said washing machine… that I ripped out my favorite page and stuck it in my pocket for a rainy day.
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