My neighbors just slaughtered a sheep...

This is just one of the many pleasant sound clips from my site mate Lynn. Upon hearing this I didn't even flinch. Instead I started thinking.... how can I get some of that meat!??? I suppose this is just a small example on how my environment has changed the way I think. 10 months ago, this statement would have made a much larger impression on me. "A sheep... they slaughtered it... does that mean they killed it? How did they do it? Wheres the blood? Why?" Now, all of the questions and more have been answered. Additionally, the act of slaughtering an animal seems quite quotidian. I walk through my market everyday with goat head on my left and hanging intestines on my right. The smell always leaves something to be desired, but the sight is merely a part of my everyday happenings. So, for those who ask me about the differences between America and Morocco here is one: you have a much closer relationship with the animals you eat here than the average American.

For the rest of this entry I'd like to talk about the World Cup. As I hope you are aware, the World Cup is currently going on in South Africa. This has probably been one of the best things to happen to me so far in my town. Let me explain why.

The world cup brings people together. More specifically it brings all of the men in my town together for four hours a day at the cafe. Usually, the cafe is full, but nobody seems to go at the same time so it is hard to "run into people". Now, there is a set four hours a day when all of the important, do something, folk in my town are at the cafe. Consequently, it has served as an excellent opportunity for me to hold some business meetings. I get to the cafe a bit early, stake out a prime table. Then when the important community members come in, I invite them to sit down with me. From here we shoot the xra for a while and then I start bouncing some ideas off them. Its great because even if my ideas are horrible, they aren't going to leave because SOCCER IS ON.

This convergence of a few factors has made a huge impact on the productivity of my work. Projects are starting to look like they might happen. An environmental education camp that I am trying to do this summer might actually happen. All of this is a result of the world cup. SI must admit before I came to Morocco I was very much opposed to watching soccer on T.V. But now, I love it. It has helped me network and has given me a perfect space for talking with members of my community. I never thought I would say this before, but can the World Cup please last forever?!

The heat is setting in. Laundry is being done more often. Life is good.

English Olympics

I recently held an english olympic competition for my students. The idea is that each volunteer in this region will hold an olympic competition at their respective dar chebabs in order to choose the top five students who will travel to a nearby city next month. There, the students will compete in a Regional English Olympic Competition. This consists of six teams from the surrounding area testing their english skills with games like pictionary, hangman, definitions, and jeopardy. Here are some photos of my students competing in our local competition. Of course, only girls came. What can I say...


Taking notes while my students take a test... I am definitely going to be a professor one day. That was totally awesome.


The start of the spelling bee. It took a while for me to explain this concept, but once we began the students really enjoyed it.

Hard thinking going on, right now.


More spelling bee action!!!!!


The last one standing. Winner!!


My participants and my mudir. Next stop. Sefrou!

More Pictures

Apparently God only wills photographs to be uploaded in the wee hours of the morning. Here is the Special K morning addition of a photographic journey through morocco.


We begin our journey with the classic shot of a berber woman and a donkey. To be quite honest it took me a while to actually capture this particular shot. I see and hear donkeys all the time, but I rarely carry my camera around with me. I believe the donkey is carrying some fresh spring crops.


The beautiful wild flower fields of my site. There are flowers of all kinds and colors out now. We have your classic whites, sweet yellows, intense purples, warm oranges, and titillating blues.

Moulay Idriss, as viewed from Volubilis. Moulay Idriss is the white town in the background. It is a beautiful village located in the hills outside of Meknes. Part of its charm lies in the fact that it has just recently been opened to non-Muslims. Volubilis, known as Walili in Moroccan Arabic, is a stunning site as well. The ruins here are well preserved and stretch over a large area. Perhaps the most exciting finds for the ancient enthusiast are the numerous mosaics.

The glorious ruins of Volubilis. I had some sweet memories of Greece 2007 when I visited this site. For some reason the song "Yiea Sou Maria" kept repeating in my head.

My fellow adventurers at Volubilis. I can assure you they probably weren't as excited as I was. Granted this might be hard to do.

Chouan. Known for its blue painted houses, it is also a place that up until the 20th century did not know westerners. Unfortunately, now it really only knows tourists. Everywhere you go here you see westerners. However, it is a beautiful little place and offers a nice escape in the mountains. As you wander through the blue-washed narrow streets you feel like you are floating down a river. Much like those turtles I mentioned in an earlier post.

Chouan from above. We took a hike up a gorge and we able to experience a beautiful view of the city. A pearl in the green mountains.

Some Photos

It took a short jump from winter to summer here in Ribat El Kheir. We practically skipped over the entire thing that we call spring in America. Just a couple weeks ago it was cold and now its 95 degrees. However, we did have a little spring. And damn, was it beautiful. Here is my site mate Lynn and our friend in front of a beautiful green field.

Here is a view of my site. Its pretty when everything is green. Unfortunately, its only like this for a couple weeks out of the year.

A waterfall I stumbled upon after a 15 kilometer hike. This was actually my goal for the hike, but upon my return I realized I could have taken a 2 kilometer route... oops.

The river that lead me to the magnificent waterfall mentioned above. This river was awesome. There were turtles in it that we just floating down stream, not a care in the world, surfing it! Sometimes I wish I was a turtle. I guess I forgot my inner tube on this hike. I won't let that happen again.

Hmm. More to come, if God wills.

Ramblings, some finds, and a little bit of home

I have been away this past week, working at an english immersion spring camp down on the coast, just a wee bit south of Casablanca. The experience was amazing and one that I look forward to experiencing again during summer camps. The kids are awesome and it was fascinating to see how they bonded after just one week together. The last day was filled with tears, hugs, and exasperated goodbyes even though they were all returning to houses withing a 15 kilometer radius from one another. Perhaps its my hardened, individualized American exterior, but I was awestruck that kids would show this much emotion after just one week. However, it does highlight the more familial based society here. By the end of the camp everybody thought of our group, quite literally, as one big happy family. America has the Brady Bunch, but that is nothing compared to the familial society here.

As I said, camp was amazing; however, I too felt my pangs of homesickness. About halfway through camp I experienced a huge desire to go back to my town, see my kids, hang out in my coffee shop, and walk around the valley. It was the first time I really felt like this place was my home. I was missing it like a desert misses the rain or a dessert misses the cherry on top. And now that I am back it feels great. I'm getting back into the swing of things and have a newfound desire to make english lessons fun after having spent some time creating activities at the camp. Additionally, I may have just found my grail, if you will.

Before I explain what I literally stumbled into I need to tell you about the Peace Corps YD set up in Morocco. Each volunteer is assigned to a specific dar chebab. They go to that dar chebab, teach english and then involve themselves in other youth development projects through different associations that work at the dar chebab. Unfortunatelyt, my dar chebab is small. I have been pinned into the corner of only teaching english on the very valid point that there is not any space to do other activities. Conseauently, because there is no space outside associations do not come into the dar chebab and do activities with kids. This has made it difficult for me to do anything with the youth besides teaching english.

Last night I was rambling around town. I had no real intention of doing anything other than ending at the cafe for a nightcap of warm milk and louisa. On my walk I ran into a bunch of people I know and started talking to them. They asked me questions about what I am specifically doing here and what I want to do here. I told them I was teaching english but interested in doing more youth development oriented activities. It turns out that these folks are all part of an association that actually does work. Most recently they have bought and delivered goats to the poorer people in the countryside in the hopes of creating a goat cheese cooperative. However, they are also interested in forming some projects for youth. They see that youth spend too much time on chat and not enough time working their minds in other areas. I was invited to their association meeting, talked about goats, and then discussed development in general.

To me this feels like a huge breakthrough. I finally have some idea of the specific associations in my town and know who to talk to if I want to initiate a project. Also, I've been invited to all of the future meetings of the association and a fieldtrip to see the goats in the countryside. They want me to look at their project and tell them any ideas I have. I don't know anything about goats, but who knows, it will definitely be fun to check out. Additionally, building good and strong connections with this group of people now will make it easier to work with them in the future on possible youth projects. It was a great night. I never made it to the cafe, but the stimulating conversation on development, goats, and some of the problems of this area certainly were better than any warm cup of milk I've ever had.

Peace

I'm gonna kill that cock....

Last week I made what some might consider a good life decision and what most might consider a horribly stupid one. I decided that I shall arise every morning at six in order to enjoy some much needed sport. I have found a couple local friends with whom I run, stretch, and do push ups. It really feels great! In retrospect, its something I should have been doing for a long time. Waking up at 6 is not hard. Its not like I'm going to bed late. What am I going to do: play crossword puzzles until the wee hours of the morning? Maybe... and I'll be the first to admit that this has happened, but the point is I can easily go to bed around 10 everynight and not miss anything.

However, my health and well-being are not the point of this article. I mentioned earlier that it was easy to wake-up at 6. This is true. However, all great things are accompanied by gloom. Sometimes the gloom is really bad, other times its merely mild gloom. My gloom for this situation is an utterly obnoxious cock that crows at 6 in ther morning. Now, you might say "hey, you're already up! Whats the big deal?". Well, my fine gentleman (and women of course), the big deal is that I have to listen to this thing go off like an alarm clock on ether (just watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas)... It gets under your skin, flows through your blood, and annoys the hell out of you. It is one of the worst noises in the world and possible a practice they should try in prisons. Lock a prisoner up with a cock... see how long it taks before the prisoner goes insane or the halls run red with chicken blood!

Normally I would sleep right through this and not be bothered by the terrifying high pitched crow that emanates from under my house. That was beauty. That was my eden. My palace of protection. I was like the Buddha: having not ventured out of palace, I knew not of death, disease, and crime. My naive self did not even consider the fact that something this unholy could take place at that godforsaken hour! I should have realized that unholy and godforsaken are partners in crime. But I was blinded by the green, fertile garden of naivete. I should have known about this, I studied religion for God's sake (this made me chuckle...). But alas! I am now trapped in its grasp and cannot be released. I now know about this event and am destined to endure the screeching cry until judgement day.

Unless of course this problem was "taken care of"... I have had a craving for chicken lately... and it seems like the Greek Mafia might be in need of some business (oh yea, I got connections) All I'm saying is that "everyone needs a little KFC"

Safi. LLay auwn. (Enough, god help you... used instead of goodbye)

A Success Story

I must let you know why my posts have been so infrequent. I have a wireless internet modem which is awesome. I can take my computer practically anywhere and get internet access. I'm not sure there is anything like this in the states. However, as you might be able to guess its not perfect. I have good internet connection and can get to any site I want except google. It seems that my modem or computer or internet does not like google and its affiliate sites (one of them being blogspot). Thus even if I have internet and I can get to other websites I can't get to google, blogspot, picasso web albums, etc... I have no idea how to fix this, but sometimes, lets say once in a blue moon, I can connect to these sites. It always brings a smile to my face.

I have for you today what Peace Corps Morocco would call a success story. Now you will understand how "success" is measured here in PC morocco. About three weeks ago I was taking a beautiful hike with my site mate lynn and my friend from college Will. We were meandering along a gorgeous path that skirts the edge of the plateau on which my town is situated. After a good thirty minutes of hiking we ran into a older looking building with a mule standing in front of a large open door. We ventured to see exactly what this building was and it turned out to be an olive press. Not just any olive press, but a traditional mule powered olive press. Even in Morocco these are becoming rarer as they are being replaced by their 20th century electric counterparts. No doubt this was an awesome find.

We ventured into the olive press and found four men working. At this point we introduced ourselves, they sat us down, opened a wooden door in the floor, and scooped out some freshly pressed olive oil. I guess this would be called the most virgin olive oil you could have! We proceeded to enjoy this delightful green liquid with some fresh bread that the kind workers provided. Soon after we were engulfed in a clusterfunk of trilingual conversation. My friend Will speaks french fluently. Consequently, the olive press workers were speaking to us in Moroccan Arabic, french, and the little english they knew. It was really quite a scene.

We made such an impression on the workers that the manager of the mill invited us back to his house for tea and more conversation. We graciously accepted the offer and joined his family and friends for some sweet moroccan tea with Sheba (mint is out of season know so everybody is using sheba - absinthe - and no, it does not make you see little green men). At the house we met a few of his wife's friends. As I am teaching english at the dar chebab, I very stealthily suggested that they come to one of my english classes. I did not think anything would come of this suggestion, but its always good to ask.

The following Tuesday two of the women came to my english class. Not only that, but they have become some of my better students. At class last week we were talking about food. One of the women asked me what my favorite Morcoccan dish was. Of course I responded couscous. I didn't think anything of this, but two days later I found that I had an invitation to join the women's family for couscous lunch on Friday (every friday family's have couscous). I immediately accepted the invitation as it was definitely going to be better than the eggs that I would normally make for lunch.

I went over to the house, ate couscous, and had a great time with the family. They have a son in North Carolina (if you ever find yourself in Raleigh and meet a moroccan ask them if they are from Hermoumou... you probably have an 85% chance of being right). While the parents don't know english they have visited many parts of America and know a bit about the culture. We talked for a couple hours while I ate my weight in couscous. (Couscous expands in your stomach... so don't eat until you are full because you will only become more full. A friendly word of advice!).

I left the house with a free bottle of fresh olive oil, some eggs that a chicken literally just popped out, leftover couscous, and an invitation to join them every friday for lunch.

This is a Peace Corps success story. A chance encounter turned into a fruitful relationship where cultures are shared, ideas are exchanged, and relationships are built. I know it might not seem like much, but it was absolutely the highlight of my week. Below I've included a few food pictures to whet your appetite!

A vegetable stand. This was taken in another town, but they all look kind of the same. Its where I buy my greens.

From my training site. Our friend has just made us a traditional Moroccan dish: Chicken topped with french fries. I swear that I have eaten more french fries here than I ever ate in the states. But somehow the grand ol' US of A gets the reputation for consuming those oily devils.

And finally.... Couscous or Scscou or Ta3am. It goes by a number of different names. However it always looks the same. You can eat it with a spoon or for the more adventurous you can try the hand method.

The Mul-Hanut

A bit of Darija for you. A mul-Hanut is a shopkeeper. (Hanut = shop and if you add "mul" in front of a word it means you own it... For example: Dar = house so a mul-dar is a landlord)

Every morning I walk down my steps out my door and fifty feet across the street to the store. Here I buy 1 bread, 2 eggs, and 2 cheese (not real cheese... Laughing Cow). I do this every morning. Rain or Shine. Sleet or Snow. Just like the U.S. Post Office. Consequently, I have gotten to know the mul-hanut very well. He is a great man, very friendly. I always have some sort of chat with him in the morning. Additionally, he always tries to use some english when I'm there. He has since learned bread, eggs, and cheese, but is always trying out some new phrases.

Last week, on monday morning I reluctantly left my house. It was freezing cold, windy, and rainy. However, I needed my food. I get cranky if I don't have food and I didn't want to have a cranky day... those are the worst. When I arrived at the hanut (granted only 50 feet from my door) the mul-hanut saw that I was cold and invited me behind the counter to share some warm coffee, bread, and fresh olive oil with him. It was just what the doctor ordered. The coffee ran through my veins and served as the equivalent of a shot of vodka in the middle of a russian winter. The bread an olive oil were a nice change of pace from my regular breakfast routine. In addition to offering me food the mul-hanut changed the t.v. channel he was watching the the BBC english news! It was amazing. The first english news program I've seen since I arrived. I sat with the mul-hanut for an hour watching the t.v, talking, and getting warm.

When the news started repeating I thanked him and grudgingly made my strenuous journey 50 feet across the road to my house. I was done for the day. Safi! I intentionally built relationships, cross cultured, practiced my language, and bought food. All in one stop! It was the closest thing I've come to a full shopping experience (like costco) since I arrived in this country.

I've also included some pictures of the Dar Chebab I'm working at. Enjoy! Happy February.

From the outside.

My Classroom!

A Rather Large Banana

I went to the souk this monday in order to purchase some fruits and vegetables; however, I never thought I would encounter the largest banana I have ever seen. I was rather taken aback when I first saw it. In fact, you might say, I was scared of it. The banana could easily be used as a weapon. However, I felt compelled to buy this mammoth sized fruit. You could say that the spirits moved me.

When I got back to my house I ran into a problem. What should I do with the banana. Surely cannot eat it... not yet. First I have to take a picture of it!

OH MAN THIS IS HUGE!

To give you a better idea of the size. I took a picture of the banana in front of my face. It practically covers it. Additionally, for those of you who play bananagrams, I tried to put the banana in the bananagrams case and it did not fit. It is far to big.

After marveling at the size I continued to think about what I should do with this banana. One of the first thoughts that came to mind was BANANAPHONE!!! "Ring ring ring ring, ring ring ring ring, bananaphone." I wonder if Maroc Telecom offers service for them?????

Despite pondering for hours I have still not figured out what to do with this banana. Currently it is sitting next to my oranges in my fruit basket. However, even after hours of thinking it still brings smiles!

Now I am soliciting advice for what to do with this strange fruit. Please let me know what to do..... or whether you think I've gone insane!

Cheers!

The locals...

When I first arrived in my town in November I was immediately given the opportunity to travel around the countryside with a couple locals. They showed me the smaller villages around the area, the huge mountains, and the beautiful forests. One of the parts of the trip that I was most stunned by was a small village built into the side of a limestone hill. It really was a spectacular sight, very foreign, and a place completely secluded from everything. It looked like a real Peace Corps village... you know, the kind you think you'll be placed in and the kind your mother fears when you discover you've been accepted into the Peace Corps.

Not only did we see the village, but we also ran into some inhabitants of the town on our trip through the mountains. The first image is that of the village, the following image shows its inhabitants. We offered them some bread and cheese when we passed them. I'm pretty sure they were very pleased. I snapped the photo without really telling them so it was a candid shot. However, it was my Moroccan counterparts that were pushing me to take the photo. They were just as intrigued as I was. Enjoy!

SNOW!!!

As you all know, I'm in Morocco. As some of you might not know, its snowing ... ever so lightly! Its like little pieces of pillow falling from the sky. God, I miss this stuff. Here's to you, Mike, currently boarding in Vermont through feet of new powder. I too have some snow. While it might be a bit less than you, its still that fluffy, beautiful white crystalized water.

I have decided to do a picture of the day since I now have regular internet access. What better way to start than a picture of snow... if you can see it. Enjoy.

This is taken from one of my windows facing the hospital across the street.

Some Pictures

Below are some pictures of the Eid El Kabir. I have not included any really brutal slaughtering images, but there may or may not be some blood in the pictures... sorry. Enjoy!

First things first. Starting in the wee hours of the morning, my host mom started making mulawi. Its a delicious flaky, oily, bread that goes great with jam.

Next, my host brother prepares the knifes. I suppose you could use the saying "Knives out!" literally here.

Then the donkey is readied. Basically he is just moved far away from the slaughtering so he doesn't disturb the sheep.

BAP! Its done. The sheep is dead in one fell swoop of the large knife in my grandfathers hand. I'm standing behind the poor creature with my host dad who is getting ready to skin it and dismember the entire animal.

Si Mohammed, my host brother, seemed fairly happy that the sheep was ready. This mean MEAT for weeks to come!

Merriem, however, seemed a bit upset. Granted she is still a baby, but she needed some comforting by my host brother.

Here she is contemplating the past events. Why is that fuzzy thing that was moving now on the ground and not moving?

The head roasting on the grill. This is the first thing to get cooked. Once it is severed from the animal they immediately place it on the grill. I guess it is meant to prevent flys and other insects from getting their paws on the brains and such.

What you are looking at now is my grandfather taking all of the innards out of the sheep. They kind of smell. After this he will blow through the butt to make sure all the excess poop has been discharged. Don't worry. I don't have a picture of that.

Here is the view from the cafe I frequent: the snow covered peaks of Bou Iblane. Beautiful.

Internet

At long last I have internet in my house. It comes in the form of a small USB stick which basically means I can get it anywhere that has service. Wild, eh?

Anyway, this means I will be more vigilant about my posts and will also be able to put up more pictures. I have to go teach now, but hopefully tonight I'll have some more material for all those following. Plus, I really just wanted to test my connexion now.

Hope all is well!

Kitlas