My New Room

Kitchen

Our new front door

Our landlord and family seem much more friendly than the last folks. We have our own private door, which is great. The neighborhood is MUCH louder until the wee hours of the morning with kids and grown ups running a muck all over the place.

Since we have no outside patio area for the dogs to go potty in, we have been house training the dogs all over again to go outside. Kika has been really wonderful with it all– she only had 1 accident the entire 5 days we have been here. I made her a crate-type area with a piece of plywood tied up to a corner of my room that she sleeps in all night long, usually, 10:30pm-8:30am without making a peep. She sleeps and eats in there, so I am hoping it helps with her potty training.

Aside from the big move, I am looking very forward to getting out of town for the next week. We leave tomorrow for Gnaoua Musical Festival in the beautiful Essaouira. We will be there until Sunday morning and then we will travel up the coast to Rabat, where my whole group has a few days of training with Peace Corps staff and whatnot. Inchallah I will also pick up my Ghana VISA– we leave in 3 1/2 weeks!

Hope ya’ll are well. Peace.

Reblogged from كوين ف المغرب:

Dear Anass,

You probably don't remember me. Based on our one and only interaction, I would venture to guess that you speak to a lot of women in an "interchangeable parts" kinda way. We're all the same anyways, right?

Well, let me re-introduce myself anyways, cuz I'm obsessed with this strange notion that "I have an identity." I know, it's sooooo American of me.

Read more… 1,362 more words

The two appointments worth briefly mentioning are the Pulmonologist and Neurosurgeon. The former had me go through several lung function tests, formally diagnosed me with asthma, and prescribed a long-term daily treatment to improve my breathing. The latter prescribed me beta-blockers and magnesium to improve the performance of my brain, help my tremors, and keep me as stress free as possible so my brain can continue to heal from my accident.

Overall, I was given a relatively clean bill of health for the time being. I just need to keep up with brain and asthma treatment, but I can resume all activities as normal. Being that I have gained 8 pounds since being in country, it is definitely time to resume some physical activity…

Aside from medical check ups, indulging in as much food as possible, and eating 3 scoops of ice cream a day while in Rabat, things here on the home front are fine. Our mentally unstable neighbor who killed the puppy has collected 3 more puppies, 2 kittens, 2 pidgins, and a baby chicken. For the first few days after the initial incident, my housemate and I would go to his house 5 times a day to feed the animals. However, we have since stopped doing that since we found our names written on his way and other odd things. He is now flat out refusing to feed any of the animals until we feed them. One of the tiny puppies died yesterday, and he blamed it on us. Brenna and I are very sensitive about animal things, so we have been trying hard not to take his shenanigans to heart. Unfortunately there are no laws in place in Morocco against animal hoarding or abuse, so there is not much we can do. We tried to educate him, we continue to tell him to stop collecting animals… but we cannot compromise our safety anymore. He also told us yesterday that he eats cats and dogs, and I believe him. So, yeah, I’m staying away.

We have been trying to move out of our current apartment for about 2 months. Our landlord and family who live above us are awful human beings, so between us deciding to leave and them asking us to leave, we have been desperate to find a place. We must have looked at 2o other places at this point, but nothing is working. We aren’t being too picky, but we need space for the dogs, a working toilet, windows, etc. We also cannot afford a million dollar home like some of our neighbors think we can. We found two perfect places, and the day we went to secure them both had been rented the night before. At this point, we have about 10 neighbors actively looking for us, and as soon as we find something that works we are going to get the heck out of here. Hopefully it is within the next two weeks, before we travel for a week.

Speaking of travel, in 2 weeks we leave for Gnaoua Music Festival for a long weekend and then head back to Rabat for some trainings. A few weeks after that, my friend and I leave for Ghana. Unfortunately we were denied multiple-entry visas for Ghana, so it seems as though we will have to spend our entire 2 weeks in Ghana and not travel to Togo or Benin. It is very unfortunate, but it might be a blessing in disguise to not have to rush around so much and be able to see as much of Ghana as possible.

After that trip in July, I’ll be in Morocco until November when my sister, grandma, and I will be going on an Italy/Spain cruise for a week. December brings a week in turkey. The new year will consist of finishing up projects, applying for jobs, and deciding on my next moves after Peace Corps. I think I will be leaving Morocco sometime next April or May.

It is so so so so so strange to me that I am over half way finished with my service here. I cannot believe how quickly time has been flying. Does life ever slow down?

Be well.

Sometimes I wonder why in the hell these things happen to me/around me. So this afternoon I was painting my nails outside my house on my stoop when two of my favorite neighborhood kids came running up to me telling me that our crazy neighbor just killed a puppy with an axe. I did not believe them at all, but then I saw the puppy’s severed head in the garbage and blood all around us. My immediate response was to cry; Kika played with this tiny puppy every day. It was a tiny, harmless, cute, lonesome little baby boy living by the trash can not bothering a soul.

I went back to my house and sat on my stoop, waiting for my neighbor to return from wherever he was. It was a couple hours before he came back. When he started walking down the street the kids all came to tell me he was back, and so I went outside to meet him. I approached him calmly, asked him what he did today, an after he told me “I worked,” I asked him why he killed a small puppy with an axe. I never got a very clear answer because his speech is hard to understand and in my rage of anger I could hardly comprehend any language let alone Arabic.

I let it go for awhile until I got word that this same man, who just murdered a puppy, had two puppies in his own house. I approached him again, calmly asked him why he has puppies at home, and then I asked him to give them to me. He told me if I give him money, I can have the dogs. I agreed and asked to see them. He brought me, my housemate, and boyfriend into the house to see the pups. I expected little playful pups, but what we saw was quite different. There were two, TINY, tiny little pups with no teeth and their eyes still closed romping around on a sheep skin in a corridor in his house. They were crying up a storm and were clearly hungry. My housemate and I nearly broke down in tears as I started begging him to give me the dogs. After going back and forth, Brenna and I somehow were able get the dogs out of his house and into ours. Some words about a money exchange down the road were thrown about– but we were just concerned with getting these pups warm, fed, and asleep.

We gave them milk with a syringe and I snuggled them into a towel close to each other. Once they were calming down, I put them into my laundry basket wrapped in a couple of towels and laid a stuffed animal next to them. They whimpered for awhile before falling asleep.

While they were sleeping, my housemate and I were debating on what to do. We basically stoke this mentally ill man’s dogs and perhaps put ourselves in a precarious position within our neighborhood. Although we knew we had the support of our other neighbors in all of our dog saving efforts, we did not want to be on bad terms with this particular neighbor, who is clearly mentally unstable. After talking with a few other friends and discussing our options, we decided it would be best to give the puppies back to this man and educate him on how to talk care of them.

My boyfriend, Brenna, and I brought the puppies– wrapped up in blankets in my laundry basket– back to the mans house. We told him how he needs to keep them in this laundry basket most of the day/night until their eyes are open and they can move around. We explained how they need this small enclosed space to feel safe and warm. We showed him how to use the syringe and told him how many times to give the pups milk a day- and that he can start feeding them other things when their teeth start coming in.

At this point, he told us how he has no money for milk. I asked him why on earth he got the dogs if he has no means to care for them, and he said he just wants them. Brenna and I told him we would bring him a carton of milk a day as long as he took good care of them. We told him we will be coming by to check on them daily (he lives right next door,) and he said we were welcome.

I asked Adile to find out why on earth he hacked off the head of the other puppy this afternoon and the man said he did it because it was going to get hit by a car anyways so he figured he would just kill it now. Brenna and I thought this was a ridiculous reason, but nonetheless, we asked him to bring anymore stay puppies he finds to our house instead of killing them. Brenna and I know of a great place in the countryside where there are a lot of other puppies happily living, so we figure we will relocate them all out there.

All that being said– I learned some valuable lessons. First of all, I need to calm the fuck down and try to think rationally before letting my emotions get in the way. Second of all, I need to not lash out at people before knowing their stories. In this case, this man was convinced that he was doing the puppy a favor by killing it before a car did. He was in need of companionship so he stole two newborn puppies from their mom and brought them home in a plastic bag. He shoved their tiny heads into a bowl of milk because he thought they were drinking it. What this man needed was not me screaming in his face, but some basic education on animal care. He got both, but I hope he will take to heart what I showed him about caring for the dogs and not remember the other things I said. Although I will take a second to pat myself on the back to reminding him what the Qur’an says about treating animals well (so glad I read the Qur’an!) Today I also learned that there are some things I am just going to have to ignore. I can’t chase down every boy who pisses me off or steal dogs from every irresponsible owner.

I am hoping for the best for these two tiny puppies this man now has in his care, and I hope that our continued presence in their lives keeps them alive and healthy.

The Two Pups in a Basket

Morocco continuously challenges me more than I ever thought was possible.  I love it and hate it all at the same time.

Be well.

When I first moved to Morocco, I ignored all the harassment, mostly because I didn’t have the language to understand what the men were saying or the language to be able to fight back with words. As time progressed, I was able to defend myself with my words: shaming the men, asking them if they were Muslim in attempts to reiterate how good Muslims do not treat women in such harsh ways, breaking out the swear words and the “donkey” insult when I felt I had to. Typically, these types of counter-attacks only increased the harassment and on top of that, I was mocked and laughed at for trying to fight back….

…so, as of late I have begun actually fighting back, with my fists and my hands. To date, I have hit 3 Moroccan men for various reasons: the first one threw a snowball at my head and would not apologize, the 2nd one was being really rude to my taxi driver and me, and this third one, todays victim, was because he decided to closed-fist punch my dog in her head for no freaking reason.

I pushed him, shamed him, and then punched him in the shoulder. He didn’t really respond (thank goodness– my 2nd victim hit me back!,) but a guy standing close to me decided to open his big mouth and shame me for hitting a man. When I asked him what I should have done he told me I should have talked to him. When I asked him what he would have done if some stranger had hit his young daughter, who was with him, in the head, he responded, “I would have talked to him.” YEAH FUCKING RIGHT. Excuse my language but 1. anybody who would not defend their young child is insane and 2. this is alllllllllll about me being a woman and defending myself and my property in public.

This man told me straight up, “You should not hit men.” I’m sorry sir, but do you think it is okay for men to closed-fist punch LEASHED animals in the head? Apparently he thinks “talking to” somebody who theoretically hit is young daughter would suffice, so hell, who knows.

The point is: I am done taking shit from anybody. I am tired of getting cat called, my ass grabbed, “i want to fuck you” or “nice ass baby,” while walking down the street minding my own business. I am tired of walking down the street with my head held down low, my eyes looking at the ground. I am tired of being made to feel less of a person — less of a woman, by sexually frustrated young men with no other activities to take part in besides harassing me and my female friends. I am so desperate for my town of 50,000 to treat me as an equal.

I don’t think violence is okay and I am disappointed in myself for getting to this point. But I feel like I have to self preserve; I can’t let these idiots take the rest of my self-confidence away– and I won’t.

I am not going to start punching every man who bothers me otherwise I would be busy throwing punches all day long. However, as soon as I feel my safety or the safety of my loved ones, including my dog, is threatened, I will throw up my fists.

If the men in this town think I am some harlot for defending myself against harassment, then so be it. That is a blow I am willing to take in order to be able to walk down the street with my head held high, feeling just as much of a woman here as back home in the States.

I am woman. Hear me fucking roar.

A quick choukran bzef (thanks a lot) goes out to all the Moroccan men in my life who absolutely ROCK and treat me like a sister/daughter/aunt/friend/EQUAL (and there are tons of ‘em.) Allah rham lwladine, God bless your parents.

Be well.

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women. 
2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

Goal one focuses on technical skills: health care, agriculture, water sanitation, forestry, teacher training, etc. Goals two and three focus more on building relationships and fostering understanding between different peoples/cultures.

Here in Morocco, my role as a volunteer and a member of my community in Azrou is definitely focused more on Goals 2 & 3.   While I’d like to think I am transferring some sustainable knowledge and skill sets to some community members, I think it is safe to assume the majority of my work here is focused on relationship building and cultural exchange. There is so much confusion amongst both Moroccans and Americans in regards to one anothers culture– religion, customs, normals, traditions, values, etc. I love having conversations and sharing traditions with Moroccan friends and family, while sharing my experiences with those back home in America. 

Honestly, sometimes I question the difference I am making here in Morocco. Developing-world speaking– Morocco is developed and seem to have a good handle on their business. I am not digging wells for clean water, distributing vaccines, securing the healthy future of village crops, or anything of the like. However, given the current political climate of the Western World and “Muslim World,” I’d say my job here is pretty important. Does this mean I think my role here is strictly political? No way. Do I think Peace Corps still having a presence in a place like Morocco isn’t necessarily imperative to the future development of the country? Yes.

Peace Corps is only in 1 country in North Africa (Morocco,) and 1 country in the middle east (Jordan.) Volunteers in both of these countries do not focus their efforts on technical assistance as do some volunteers in Sub-Saharan Africa or South America. Part of me feels like Peace Corps remains in these countries to sustain relationships within the Arab World outside of the State Department or the United Nations. I’d like to think America understands the different kind of “ambassadors” it sends to these countries via the Peace Corps. We aren’t here to maintain security, spy, keep terrorism at bay, or the like. Peace Corps Volunteers, in Morocco, are simply here to form meaningful relationships within our host communities and build human capacity through life skills, job training, health workshops, and other such activities. Basically, anything our community wants our help with doing, we’ll do.

I see my role here in Morocco as, inch’Allah, bridging the gap between my friends and family back home and my friends and family here in Morocco. I want Americans to understand Islam and Arab culture and I want Moroccans to learn about America outside of Hollywood. 

I’m happy to be here now.

Peace and be well. 

I saw my beautiful host mama for the first time in a long time today. I’ve been avoiding Ifrane because of the anxiety I get when I think about running into members of my ex’s family. Sure enough, the first person I ran into when I got off the taxi was his brother. Yippee.

My host mama gave me a huge boost of confidence today when she thanked Allah that I gained back some weight. She told me I was too skinny before and ugly. She said now that I have gained back some weight, I am beautiful and am now able to birth children. I am going to enjoy my last year living in a country where I am considered more beautiful when chubby. Thanks, Morocco.

I chased down some 14-ish year old boys today after they harassed me in my own neighborhood. After shaming them and telling them I was going to talk to their parents, they continued to say rude shit. So, I threatened to beat them up, then I told them they’re donkeys (very offensive here,) and then went home.

Two or three times a week I like to go get cheese and onion paninis from my favorite shack on the side of the street in town. I always bring Kika (my pup) with me and she has always gotten a lot of attention. Lately a group of young boys have been galavanting around town with her while I wait for my sandwich and fries to be done. It’s cute.

Speaking of Kika, everybody in this town of 50,000 people knows Kika. I expect all my neighborhood kids to know her; they have played with her since she was just a 6 week old pup. However, whenever I walk anywhere in town I hear children calling “Kika, Kika!” from all corners of town.. children I have never seen before in my life. Sometimes the children call me Kika too. I let that slide.

My neighbors are fantastic. My Mul Dar (landlord/house owner/upstairs neighbor) is… not fantastic. Him and his family are rude and mean. They asked my housemate and I to leave because our dogs make too much noise. I discussed this with other neighbors of mine and they all told me to not leave and just stay, that he can’t make me leave and the police will be on my side. Now, I have no idea if there is any truth to that, but hell, I love this neighborhood and I’m not leaving. A house 2 doors down will be empty come Ramadan (beginning July,) so I sure hope my landlord doesn’t mind if we squat here until then.

I lied to one of my neighbors today because her 10 year old daughter begged me to. About 15 of us kids were playing outside when my neighbor girl fell into some water. She was so horrified to tell her mom and asked me to please please tell her mom that one of the neighbor boys pushed her into the water. So, I did the unthinkable– I told her mother that our 2 year old neighbor, Bilal, pushed her daughter into the water. Fortunately Bilal isn’t old enough to be able to defend himself. Sorry, kid.

The other day my housemate and I were walking home from buying extremely healthy food to eat from the market (ehem) when some policemen in a police car stopped us on the street to ask us if we were alright. After we told them we’re just dandy, they asked us where we lived and told us that if we need anything to just ask. This was actually the first pleasant interaction I have had with a police officer in my town. Yahoo!

The other night on an overnight bus to somewhere I naturally fell asleep… and woke up to the man next to me staring into my face. It was weird.

I love making new friends because for a very long time I had no friends here in Morocco. I especially love making new friends on the street. It usually goes down like this: I’m walking somewhere in town when a boy starts talking to me in French. When I answer in Arabic, he gets excited and starts asking questions about me. He welcomes me to his country and says I am welcome in his families home anytime. Then, usually, he asks for my phone number and if I will be his girlfriend. Thanks but no thanks.

A few nights ago these two boys started bothering my roommate and I on the street. We wished them well and turned down our neighborhood street– they followed. They kept bugging me for my cell phone number and kept asking if I had a boyfriend. In Arabic I said calmly, “Yes, I have a boyfriend and he is Moroccan. He is at my house right now. Would you like to know him?” The boys apologized, wished me well, and continued on their way.

I have set my alarm about 15 times in the past 14 months.

Adile and I in Casablanca

My housemate and I in Chefchaouen

The Good Life

Neighborhood kids and pups.

Sometimes I think about how much more life in Morocco suits me than back in the states. Sometimes I think I will die here– either in a car accident or by getting beat to death by one of the numerous men I have punched. I often think about staying in Morocco and getting a “real” job after my Peace Corps service ends. I also think about all of the other countries I want to go to while continuing work in development. Either way, while I have good days and bad days in this land of contradictions, I have really learned how to embrace all of her quirks.

Be well, Peace.

Christmas with Grandpa 1989

The Last Time I Saw My Grandpa- August 2011

My accident, asthmatic episodes, being evicted and having to find another house, and death of my grandpa has kept me out of steady work for the past few weeks. After my parents upcoming visit next week, I hope to get back to work before summer is in full effect and I go on break.

Be well and hug your loved ones.

1. A career development resource center
   
2. A Womens Health Weekend 
3. HIV/AIDS Festival Outreach 
4. Youth Entrepreneurship 
5. English Teacher Education Conference 
6. Spring Youth Festival 

Any contribution would be greatly appreciated.

Take care.

I met with my coworkers today to discuss our International Womens Day event that I missed while I was in the hospital. They all raved about how successful and moving it was for the women who participated (some 100+ ladies!) Testimonies were given by successful women who were living their dreams, discussions were held about leadership, and the women spent time sharing their experiences, stories, and hopes for the future. I am so bummed I was not able to attend my first large event here in Morocco, but we have plenty more projects currently in the works. Future projects currently being planned/grants being written for include:

• a 1 day Health/Nutrition/Fitness Workshop for 50 Women in our Community including a morning spent in different womens health related seminars and an afternoon spent learning different dance styles, 
• a 5k run/walk for charity
• building of a classroom for children who do not attend school in a small village outside of my town
• Animal awareness workshops around the Fes region

At the end of May my classes at the Community Center will end for this year. The University students have internships in June and graduate in July. June and July will be spent working on projects and solidifying my programs/classes for the 2013-2014 school year, which will start in mid-September and last until I leave Morocco in May 2014 inch’Allah.  The Center is closed the entire month of August for summer break. 

The last couple of weeks have been a little bit of an emotional roller coaster with the accident, hospitalization, medications (and their interactions with each other,) this head cold, homesickness, lack of productivity, and lack of being active. I have been hanging on to all of the exciting things (non-work related) that I have to look forward to. Such things include: a weekend getaway next weekend with my original training group here in Morocco, my parents visiting in Mid-May (Camel Trek here we come!), Gnaoua Musical Festival and climbing Mount Toubkal in June, traveling to Ghana, Togo, Benin, and Spain with another volunteer in July, a GLOW camp in August, and a week in Turkey in December with my sister and brother-in-law. 

Best wishes to all of those reading. Be well.