Ben @ Morocco, Peace Corps, Round 2 – the journal of a peace corps volunteer from USA, who loves Morocco as much as his own country.

Ben @ Morocco

Here is a look at why this blog was nominated for the 2011 Bombies.

My team won!Spent a nice day after a deluge this morning cheering my homeboys on. Walking back, a guy asked me all about American sports. He knew a lot, and I told him how I played american football in high school (really, middle school but noone’s counting). He’s Mimoun, a guy from my town that really cares and loves American culture and movies. He later asked what a Yankee means, so this turned into a conversation about the civil war, the North/South divide and the racial makeup of the US. He was surprised to learn that 80 percent of my high school was black and that Latinos are the second biggest group in the US after white people. It’s nice when you can immediately get into a more meaningful conversation about US culture, but the people here able to do that are rare.

To nominate a blog for the Best of Morocco Blogs, just make sure it fits the criteria at this post and then let us know about it!

Muriel In Morocco – Observations, Comments and Revelations from the Oldest Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco.

Muriel In Morocco

Here is a look at why this blog was nominated for the 2011 Bombies.

My project will be put on line by Peace Corps staff when they review & OK it. Enshallah! Until then I’m just holding my breath and waiting for a response from them.

The proposal had been e-mailed 2 weeks ago, but the signature page required originals and a lot of travel to get the Ministry of Education approval. Finally got it all together.

As requested by PC I snail-mailed the cover sheet containing original signatures and rubber stamps on Friday. Since it is the holiday of the birthday of the Prophet Mohamed everyhing has been closed and will be until at least March 1, so PC will receive the signature page sometime in the future. Bureaucrats are not known for their speed.

The sands of time move slowly through the glass, as I wait impatiently.

To nominate a blog for the Best of Morocco Blogs, just make sure it fits the criteria at this post and then let us know about it!

Team Meknes: Linda, Donna, Alex, Henry, Emily, Sean, and Ed

After my 2 week post pre-service training in Azrou I had to head home though a city called Meknes. Some of my fellow volunteers were traveling there to sightsee so I thought I would join them seeing as Meknes was on my list of Moroccan destinations.
We stopped off at a hotel that someone had found in the Lonely Planet travel guide which cost 90 Dh (12 dollars) for a night, each person. You know you are in Peace Corps (and that you’re cheap) when you cringe at having to spend 90 Dh per night on a less than perfect hotel. I wasn’t going to put up a fight because I just wanted to have a safe place to leave my luggage.

We were in search of a way to get to the Roman ruins that Meknes is famous for. Between Ed’s Lonely Planet guide and the receptionist at the desk speaking Darija/French we found out how to get to the taxi stand where we would find a ride to the ruins. Well we walked away with somewhat of an idea, the rest we just figured out on the way. That’s the trend here in Morocco, don’t ever expect to understand things completely.

We found a taxi driver that agreed to drive us out to the ruins (30k north), wait for us for 2 hours, then drive us back. The small problem was, our group was seven people strong and taxis, by law, are only allowed six passengers. Two too many if you ask me, but hey no one really ever asks me!

If he wouldn’t take all seven of us we would have had to split up into two taxis and it would have cost us each a lot more money. Three of the members of my travel group had learned Berber languages in training, so they were not able to communicate with the taxi driver. Me, being forced into a leadership role, out of sheer necessity, took the challenge without even thinking twice. I tried my best to negotiate a good price with the man and explained that we were volunteers who just really wanted to see these ruins. After a few minor miscommunications and a few minutes of sweet talking I had secured us seven spots crammed in a taxi.

The seventh person sitting on the laps of everyone in the backseat agreed to duck when we passed police checkpoints. There were at least 3 both ways. The seventh person just looked like a piece of baggage on someone’s lap so we got past without a hitch.

The drive to the ruins was a beautiful one. The countryside was so lush and green and Donna, a native of England, claimed the landscape reminded her of home. We drove up into the mountains a small bit and arrived at the ruins about 30 minutes later.

http://joyinmorocco.blogspot.com/

Here is a recent post that illustrates some of the difficulties a PCV encounters.

A Peace Corps Volunteer’s job description is not quite like any other. The more I examine the realities of my job, I see myself as a behavior change agent. I can’t give them the magic formula to running a successful craft business. I don’t have the foresight of which retailers will continue a steady, if not growing, business relationship with them. However, I can teach them some basic business skills and knowledge. I can impart some advice on colors, styles and customer tastes. I can teach them new crochet techniques. I can lead them through trial and error. And I can model good behavior. All of this is done in hopes that one day my counterparts see the value in changing their current habits.

I’m finding that two years service is not enough time for dramatic behavior changes. The challenge is that they need to decide to change. This goes back to the constant nagging question of motivation. How badly do they want this small business to succeed? I wonder.

Filling and shipping orders in a timely fashion is a key component for business success. An RPCV had placed an order of bracelets back in late October. The ladies did not finish the bracelets before she left Morocco in November. When I left for vacation in Spain, I gave them an envelope with her address.

Before I left, I told them, “Whenever bracelets are done, send it in the mail.”

In hindsight, I should have said “Next week, when you finish six bracelets…” Then again, maybe not. I’m not the boss. Time passes. It doesn’t occur to me to follow-up. Until February, when I realize no one has made the bracelets. Why? I don’t understand. In the meantime, they made plenty of tea kettle holders and lace doilies. (Note: none of those items are for sale.) Time doesn’t seem to be the limiting factor. Hmm. Lucky for them, the RPCV is forgiving and still wants her order. I personally mailed the bracelets. It’s almost five months since the secretary recorded the order in the Association notebook. I wonder.

I face the same confusion when trying to understand why ladies refuse to buy their own crochet hook. There’s one extended family that share one crochet hook between three ladies. To me, sharing one crochet hook is an unnecessary hassle. Some ladies have their own hooks but only have one. I repeatedly talk about the importance of gauge and needing various crochet hooks for different threads. For the new line of headbands, I want a loose crochet for a softer feel. Ladies need to work with a number 5 crochet hook. I reiterate this concept during the product critics. Hooks sell for 2dhs. Why do some ladies still refuse to make this investment? Why do they come everyday to the nedi and pester others (myself included) to borrow a crochet hook? They just spent 3 dhs on half a sardine sandwich the other day. See why I wonder about their motivation?

The issue of motivation makes me question my purpose here. If they can’t pay 2 dhs for a crochet hook, why am I trying to teach them new crochet techniques? Why am I attempting product development? Why am I working harder than them when this isn’t my life?!

Thankfully, at the end of the day, I find this in more ways fulfilling than frustrating. You might argue that I’m wearing rose-colored glasses. I delight in small successes as if they were huge milestones. And maybe they are.

The Association still haven’t started construction with the approved grant money. The legal paperwork to start construction have been stalled at the local municipality level. Yesterday, I ran into the President and Secretary after they had a meeting with the qiad. They were pressuring him to expedite the paperwork process. Sweet! Look at them take initiative and responsibility!

We recently had great success with a new line of headbands. In January and February, the ladies learned and perfected these new headbands. At the American Club Bazaar, these headbands sold like hot cakes. However, the production process has several holes. The thread is purchased unwound. Currently, a local tailor, Robio, winds the thread for us at 2 dhs a spool. Two spools produce one headband. With approximately 20 ladies, needing two spools of wound thread each, in addition to wooden beads and elastic bands, raw material cost adds up fast. Additionally, Robio misunderstood the proper thickness for the thread. On two occasions, we sent a bag full of thread to be rewound. Amina, who helped me send and collect the thread, was well aware of these costs. About two weeks ago, she bought her own thread-winding machine for 150 dhs. What great foresight! Go Amina! She’s learning how to wind the thread for future headband orders at 1.5 dhs a piece. What a good personal investment!

Innocents A-Blogged.

But Berberville sits deep, deep in the High Atlas mountains, pretty much at the middle of a blank spot in most maps. It’s the biggest village (town?) around, and is home to the Ait Hadidou tribe. There’s a wonderful story I’ll tell sometime, about our tribe’s origins, but the short version is that it’s a combination of Ait Brahim and Ait Yaza. Ama is Ait Brahim. Baba is Ait Yaza. Many families, like mine, are a hybrid. Generally speaking, girls keep their mothers’ tribe, while boys keep their fathers’. The logical implication is that all of Ait Hadidu are probably genetic mutts, despite people continuing to identify by either Ait Brahim or Ait Yaza.

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.

Maroc, Je T’aime

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.

“Shwiya b shwyia” is Darija (Moroccan Arabic) for “little by little.” It’s how things get done in Morocco … and it’s how I’m progressing as a Peace Corps volunteer here, working in youth development.

My host family’s hamar (hachak!) was not into being petted. Rakya nearly dropped my camera, she was laughing so hard. (Donkeys are considered dirty and shameful here, even as they are relied on to haul many times their weight for hours in the blazing desert sun.)

Almost immediately after Dad departed Morocco, I was once again on my way to Casablanca to meet a visitor- This time, it was my significant other, Krister. Unlike my previous trip, which had a detailed itinerary and hotel rooms booked for each night, Krister and I had decided to play it by ear and, after hitting the major tourist cities with my dad, I was ready for something low-key. On the recommendation of fellow Fulbrighter Sam, we decided to visit Moulay Bousselham, a small coastal town south of Tangier.

We left my apartment in Rabat mid-morning and made our way to the train station, where we got on a fast train to Kenitra, about 45 minutes away. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the intricacies of Moroccan trains, there are two options: old and new. Old trains, while fairly reliable, are sweltering in the summer and freezing in the winter. The smell isn’t particularly pleasant, and they seem to make stops every 15 minutes. New trains, on the other hand, are extremely punctual, make limited stops, and are a joy to ride in. I highly recommend them.

We got off at the wrong stop (there are two Kenitra stops, and it turns out we choose poorly), but we made it to the grande taxi stand with high spirits. Again, for those of you who have never traveled to Morocco, grande taxis are a common and convenient mode of transportation throughout the country. They generally have fixed routes and travel just about anywhere. The catch is that you need to wait for the taxi (usually an old, white Mercedes) to fill up- The capacity is six, plus the driver.

When we arrived to the taxi stand, we were the first ones heading to Moulay Bousselham, and so we waited for our taxi to fill up, which gave us some time to observe an impromptu chess game on the street.

I took early retirement after 29 years in business to serve in Morocco for the next 2 years as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Small Businesss Development working with women weavers.

Since it’s New Years Day, here is the latest New Year post from Lynn:

Well here I am, finally back in REK for New Years. Fortunately it was an uneventful, while lengthy, return trip-no delays, no snow, no rain, no sleep, just long. Good to sleep in my own bed last night.

It was such a great trip-to see family and friends during such a special time of the year. I’m surprised both at how easy it was to be there-felt very normal-and it was a lot easier than I expected to leave. Perhaps knowing that I have only 11 short months left and a lot to do helped ease that pain. There’s that along with everything I got to do while I was in SF…..everything that was on my list….

Ate out 3 times, 2 of which were Mexican (Hamdullah). Saw 3 movies. Peppermint ice cream. Starbucks. The annual Christmas jigsaw puzzles. Just sitting around drinking coffee and catching up. Got my errands done-bought See’s candy for gifts to bring back. Made a trip to the grocery store for spices, mixes, Kraft mac’n cheese. Got all the stuff I had ordered on-line ahead to bring back with me-sporting a fine new winter down coat. Santa got the message about the cold here last winter and gave me new fleece, wool sweaters, gloves, scarves and a whole box of chemical hand warmers. All of it made it into my bags (and contributed to a hefty, but happy-to-pay, overweight luggage fee) and contributed to the decision to wait it out for a bus direct to REK last night-didn’t want to have to schlep the heavy bag on 5 separate transits (settled for 3 instead).

This blog certainly made us wish we could get some mission style burritos for dinner, but the couscous will have to do for now.

moroccoagogo.blogspot.com/

Maggie is an avid people watcher who knows a lot about a little and a little about a lot. She also has a degree in geology, which means she can giggle with authority at Dante’s Peak, but little else. She is currently a Peace Corps Volunteer in southwestern Morocco, where she promotes environmental education and conservation programs, conducts environmental surveys, and drinks tea. Her favorite Pop-Tart is un-frosted strawberry.

Now not only that, but she makes videos and puts them on her blog, such as this gem about how to change a butagas tank.