Part I:
Wind rushing by,
is my door closed
all the way
Emergency Action Plan:
Grab Handle Above
with left hand; steadying self
with right hand on the door.
Note: Don’t grab guy sitting
next to me. He looks like
he’d come right with.
Does this taxi have
blankets in the window of
the backseat? Does this driver
spend the night out or local trips only?
Taxi Drivers need toothbrushes too!
Part II:
The wind is getting louder
Roaring in my ears
The smells are getting stronger
Hope my other senses stay in check.
Do authors enjoy reading as much as they enjoy writing?
Unbelievable.
Sheep can eat this
tough and sparse grasses
And turn it into fat
Yet they travel/graze
for distances.
Unbelievable.
Cows.
People.
What do we lack in our bodies
to process these simple calories?
I forgot.
Don’t monkeys and gorillas
eat these grasses too?
Aren’t they like our 3rd cousin
By Gen Etics?
Dinner options.
Free rides are way more fun than
rides you pay for.
What have I got to hide and
who are you to judge?
The clouds taunt the motionless mountains
in a whimsical game of winded dances.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Identity
I felt it today. Taking off the black headscarf, the white piece that women wear under that covers their hairline, my long black shirt that covers my ass. I was taking off an identity and slipping into a new one. I looked at the sloughed clothes on the floor. Who am I? What am I becoming? I hastily threw on a sports bra and underarmor shirt, planning to burn off some cultural steam on a power walk in the desert behind the house.
Identities.
Who have I become? I used to joke with my sisters in high school that depending on the day and my mood I would pick which Spice Girl I wanted to dress like: Sporty or Posh? Now, my Spice Girl garb includes headscarves and full traditional dresses. Foreign-Girl-Wanna-Be-Native-Culturally-Sensitive Spice? Don’t think she made the cut.
I look at myself in the mirror downstairs as I wash my hands after eating lunch with the family. I look like I was wearing a nun’s habit from the shoulders up. I’m sure some of you are just dying laughing, imagining me, even pretending to be associated with the Church and a life of abstinence!
I can’t help but stare though. Is this just going to be another facet to my personality treasure chest? God save us all if my rugby girls were to run in here during a meal. Much less if the lyrics of our social was translated. But that is a part of me too. The grass in my socks, a big bruise on my thigh. When do the others parts get their turn?
I understand that it is all a balance.
I understand that at this point in my life it is necessary to be this other person. Not another person. That’s not fair. It’s still me under it all. I still dance in the kitchen and make sarcastic side comments and faces at the neighborhood children. BUT it can be kind of scary sometimes.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Rugby: A Hooligan’s Game Played by Gentlemen or A Gentlemen’s Game Played by Hooligans?!
I fell in love with rugby after my first real hit. It was my first game. I had never played rugby before in my life. After missing soccer tryouts for the club team my freshman year this beautiful but massive female had called out to me at the rec center in college, “Hey! You wanna play rugby? Anyone can play.” I had three practices before that game.
I had gotten the ball from our scrum-half and had made it maybe three steps before I had gotten hit. It felt like I ran into a truck. Or a train. In reality, I had been pulverized (and maybe a little embarrassed) by a mean looking chick with a black mouthguard who might have had some sexual frustrations growing up in life. I could tell by the crowd’s reaction that I had gotten knocked pretty solid. She was a hungry beast. And I was dinner. After picking myself out of her teeth and recovering my 5 senses that had been beaten through my digestive track, I realized something: I am alive. And I feel good.
That started my love affair.
Once you realize that you can take a hit and give one right back, the game becomes mesmerizing. The rules are a little complicated at first, but with some time, they start to set in. I am here to give you the basics so that you understand what is going on when you watch that fake accent, beefcake pussy, Matt Damon, in Invictus, or more importantly, when you catch a game on ESPN or hopefully, when you go out for your first practice.
There are 15 people on the field for either side. These 15 people are divided up into 2 main groups called the Forwards and the Backs. The Forwards are numbered 1-8. These people typically tend to be your bigger, more solid players. In recreational or club teams you can identify these players because they typically are a little more overweight or slower but once you reach a professional level, these kids are all huge. Numbers 1 and 3 are props, number 2 is the hooker. These three make your “front row” during scrums (to be explained soon). Numbers 4 and 5 are locks and make up your “second row”, #s 6 and 7 are flankers and number 8 is your “8-man.”
These 8 refrigerators bind together to create a scrum, used during games to restart the ball when an offense has been committed by either team. Typically this act is what people remember and refer to when they ask me about rugby and if we actually “butt heads.” This is an intricate system to make a compact unit that binds together and moves together when the restart is called. The front rows’ heads go into the armpit space that is created by the other team when they bind in the same manner. (Ask for an actual demonstration by any rugby player, at any bar, and they will be more than glad to show you, hell, even buy you a beer for being interested.) The ball is rolled down the center of the front rows and the two hookers fight for possession of the ball by kicking it backwards through the legs of their own teammates. They control it until it finally reaches the 8-man.
At this point the scrum-half, easily identified by their smaller stature, quick hands, and the number 9 on their jersey, picks up the ball and distributes it to the Backs.
The backs consist of numbers 9-15. These charmers are typically light on their feet, have good hands, and create interlacing patterns, streaming up the field. Number 10 is the flyhalf and usually calls plays for the rest of the group. Next at #11 is inside center, followed by outside center at #12, numbers 13 and 14 are wings and work on opposite sides of the field. Last but certainly not least, is the fullback.
Games are usually 90 minutes long, 45 minute halves with a ten minute half-time. Games are played on the “pitch,” or field, and the rugby ball is kicked through the uprights, (these look like skinny football posts). Points are scored by placing the ball on the ground in what could be described as the end zone or in-goal area. This is known as a “try” and worth 5 points. After a try is scored, the team is allowed a kick through the uprights, 30 m out directly from the point the ball was touched down. This is worth two points and can be extremely difficult if the ball was touched in either far side. At any point, either team can kick for 3 points through the uprights.
Rules of the game: the ball must be passed backwards or laterally, never forward. Therefore, if the ball is accidentally hit forward (i.e. imagine a fumble or just bad pass) the play stops and a “knock-on,” is called by the referee. Following this, there is a scrum. If the ball happens to go out of bounds, out of “touch,” then a line-out is called. During a line out, the hooker is responsible for throwing the ball down the center of two lines, consisting of teammates of either players. Each line has groups of players, groups usually consist of three people, the front and back persons lifting the middle player into the air. They try to catch the thrown ball and get it back to their team. Once a player is tackled to the ground, they must release the ball. If the player holds onto the ball, the play is stopped and that team is penalized. The penalty results in possession and field gain by the other team. The offending team must give 15m space to the opposing team. Once a player is tackled and releases the ball (hopefully to their teammates) a ruck is formed. This happens quickly and frequently in games. The two players that were the tackled and tackler are out of the play and try to reenter soon after. Teammates following in pursuit push each other, trying to gain ownership of the ball. They are not allowed to pick up the ball (hands in!-rule) until they have completely cleared space over the ball (“so a bird could shit on it,”). Teams must push straight on. They cannot simply dodge people and run around a ruck to pick up a ball.
Rugby is a fast game played with skill and quick decisions. I admire the game because there are almost no time-outs. Players must adapt and change their strategies constantly on the field. For example, during a scrum, if our loose-head prop is being beaten every time and is our weak point, a simple solution might be to switch the props or suggest getting his/her head under the other player and driving through the other player’s chest. Let her feel it! If the other team has a kicking game (they like to kick a lot to gain field), then we might suggest our fullback play deeper and more defensively.
There are sometimes as many as three captains on the field: Forward, Back, and Team. The forward captain makes changes and keeps up the morale of the scrummies, while the back captain may suggest different plays and keep up with the performance of the backs. Usually the team captain is addressed solely by the referee if there are any offenses by the team (“Captain, make sure your girls keep their hands out of the rucks!”) and therefore, they are responsible for the team as a whole. Like with most sports, women’s rugby is somewhat slower but played with more finesse and fluidity. Men’s rugby is faster, harder, and transitions are almost constant.
Rugby gets better with time. You will always have a rugby family, anywhere in the world. The best thing about rugby is the camaraderie between teammates, the beer that flows after games, and the fact that some player might have wanted to kill you earlier that day, they are now buying you a shot at the bar. Everything is left on the field. You play hard and then celebrate (win or lose) with your opposition, singing a few songs and sharing a few beers. All of my college roommates were rugby players. I went on to coach high school girls’ and play club after college and continue to love the game from either side of the pitch.
I do not mean to refer to myself so much when I explain that it takes a special person to play rugby. But I have found these things to be true about almost all rugby players, simply think of James Carcilli, who played in college also. These people need to be pretty physical, have some wits about them, and honestly, be a little crazy.
Google the “Haka”, performed by the sexy New Zealand AllBlacks, or if you want to see one of the greatest players, check out Jonah Lomu. He is delicious and incredible. USARugby is a great website to check out if you want to find a team in your area (stateside). If you have any questions or want to play sometime, just shoot me an email kirlinh@colorado.edu. Cheers!
I had gotten the ball from our scrum-half and had made it maybe three steps before I had gotten hit. It felt like I ran into a truck. Or a train. In reality, I had been pulverized (and maybe a little embarrassed) by a mean looking chick with a black mouthguard who might have had some sexual frustrations growing up in life. I could tell by the crowd’s reaction that I had gotten knocked pretty solid. She was a hungry beast. And I was dinner. After picking myself out of her teeth and recovering my 5 senses that had been beaten through my digestive track, I realized something: I am alive. And I feel good.
That started my love affair.
Once you realize that you can take a hit and give one right back, the game becomes mesmerizing. The rules are a little complicated at first, but with some time, they start to set in. I am here to give you the basics so that you understand what is going on when you watch that fake accent, beefcake pussy, Matt Damon, in Invictus, or more importantly, when you catch a game on ESPN or hopefully, when you go out for your first practice.
There are 15 people on the field for either side. These 15 people are divided up into 2 main groups called the Forwards and the Backs. The Forwards are numbered 1-8. These people typically tend to be your bigger, more solid players. In recreational or club teams you can identify these players because they typically are a little more overweight or slower but once you reach a professional level, these kids are all huge. Numbers 1 and 3 are props, number 2 is the hooker. These three make your “front row” during scrums (to be explained soon). Numbers 4 and 5 are locks and make up your “second row”, #s 6 and 7 are flankers and number 8 is your “8-man.”
These 8 refrigerators bind together to create a scrum, used during games to restart the ball when an offense has been committed by either team. Typically this act is what people remember and refer to when they ask me about rugby and if we actually “butt heads.” This is an intricate system to make a compact unit that binds together and moves together when the restart is called. The front rows’ heads go into the armpit space that is created by the other team when they bind in the same manner. (Ask for an actual demonstration by any rugby player, at any bar, and they will be more than glad to show you, hell, even buy you a beer for being interested.) The ball is rolled down the center of the front rows and the two hookers fight for possession of the ball by kicking it backwards through the legs of their own teammates. They control it until it finally reaches the 8-man.
At this point the scrum-half, easily identified by their smaller stature, quick hands, and the number 9 on their jersey, picks up the ball and distributes it to the Backs.
The backs consist of numbers 9-15. These charmers are typically light on their feet, have good hands, and create interlacing patterns, streaming up the field. Number 10 is the flyhalf and usually calls plays for the rest of the group. Next at #11 is inside center, followed by outside center at #12, numbers 13 and 14 are wings and work on opposite sides of the field. Last but certainly not least, is the fullback.
Games are usually 90 minutes long, 45 minute halves with a ten minute half-time. Games are played on the “pitch,” or field, and the rugby ball is kicked through the uprights, (these look like skinny football posts). Points are scored by placing the ball on the ground in what could be described as the end zone or in-goal area. This is known as a “try” and worth 5 points. After a try is scored, the team is allowed a kick through the uprights, 30 m out directly from the point the ball was touched down. This is worth two points and can be extremely difficult if the ball was touched in either far side. At any point, either team can kick for 3 points through the uprights.
Rules of the game: the ball must be passed backwards or laterally, never forward. Therefore, if the ball is accidentally hit forward (i.e. imagine a fumble or just bad pass) the play stops and a “knock-on,” is called by the referee. Following this, there is a scrum. If the ball happens to go out of bounds, out of “touch,” then a line-out is called. During a line out, the hooker is responsible for throwing the ball down the center of two lines, consisting of teammates of either players. Each line has groups of players, groups usually consist of three people, the front and back persons lifting the middle player into the air. They try to catch the thrown ball and get it back to their team. Once a player is tackled to the ground, they must release the ball. If the player holds onto the ball, the play is stopped and that team is penalized. The penalty results in possession and field gain by the other team. The offending team must give 15m space to the opposing team. Once a player is tackled and releases the ball (hopefully to their teammates) a ruck is formed. This happens quickly and frequently in games. The two players that were the tackled and tackler are out of the play and try to reenter soon after. Teammates following in pursuit push each other, trying to gain ownership of the ball. They are not allowed to pick up the ball (hands in!-rule) until they have completely cleared space over the ball (“so a bird could shit on it,”). Teams must push straight on. They cannot simply dodge people and run around a ruck to pick up a ball.
Rugby is a fast game played with skill and quick decisions. I admire the game because there are almost no time-outs. Players must adapt and change their strategies constantly on the field. For example, during a scrum, if our loose-head prop is being beaten every time and is our weak point, a simple solution might be to switch the props or suggest getting his/her head under the other player and driving through the other player’s chest. Let her feel it! If the other team has a kicking game (they like to kick a lot to gain field), then we might suggest our fullback play deeper and more defensively.
There are sometimes as many as three captains on the field: Forward, Back, and Team. The forward captain makes changes and keeps up the morale of the scrummies, while the back captain may suggest different plays and keep up with the performance of the backs. Usually the team captain is addressed solely by the referee if there are any offenses by the team (“Captain, make sure your girls keep their hands out of the rucks!”) and therefore, they are responsible for the team as a whole. Like with most sports, women’s rugby is somewhat slower but played with more finesse and fluidity. Men’s rugby is faster, harder, and transitions are almost constant.
Rugby gets better with time. You will always have a rugby family, anywhere in the world. The best thing about rugby is the camaraderie between teammates, the beer that flows after games, and the fact that some player might have wanted to kill you earlier that day, they are now buying you a shot at the bar. Everything is left on the field. You play hard and then celebrate (win or lose) with your opposition, singing a few songs and sharing a few beers. All of my college roommates were rugby players. I went on to coach high school girls’ and play club after college and continue to love the game from either side of the pitch.
I do not mean to refer to myself so much when I explain that it takes a special person to play rugby. But I have found these things to be true about almost all rugby players, simply think of James Carcilli, who played in college also. These people need to be pretty physical, have some wits about them, and honestly, be a little crazy.
Google the “Haka”, performed by the sexy New Zealand AllBlacks, or if you want to see one of the greatest players, check out Jonah Lomu. He is delicious and incredible. USARugby is a great website to check out if you want to find a team in your area (stateside). If you have any questions or want to play sometime, just shoot me an email kirlinh@colorado.edu. Cheers!
Vacation Tales: A Linguistic Comedy
Recently, my parents came to visit me here in Morocco. This story would be best if you had met my parents. Just imagine your typical set of parents. Sweet, good natured and proud of their Peace Corps daughter. They still fight in the car over the directions, occasionally order the same meal despite a huge menu, and my dad tells well, dad jokes. My mom just rolls her eyes and I laugh.
I tried best to prepare them for all that could be expected: indigestion, conservative garb, alarm clock style calls to prayer, traffic, and vendor harassment. They are fairly well traveled having vacationed in Peru, Costa Rica, and Germany, among others. This was still a first for them, coming to Africa. I tried my best to plan a smooth trip. I knew that they would be bothered that they would not be able understand any of the languages here (gold star America!).
I tried my best, starting early, to teach them some basic Tashelheit. Words and greetings that they would hear repeatedly like “Salaam walakum, labas, thenna,” and “nchallah,” among a few others. They accents reminded me of mine in the beginning. They did pretty well remembering and tried out the greetings every morning during breakfast.
When we visited my boyfriend’s family, their first real “home stay” in Morocco, my parents were desperate for additional vocabulary. “How do I say, ‘Good Morning!’ or ‘Delicious!’?” They asked. So, easily after that, during any meal, my parents would praise my boyfriend’s mom, telling her that the food was “IHla bzzf!” (very good,) or “Yetfut!” (delicious.)
We had a great time in Morocco. I couldn’t have asked for better weather, suitable hotels, or just for things to work out as nicely as they did. Randomly, I believe the recent change in seasons might have out my boyfriend and I on a bit of a sneezing frenzy. It seemed that every morning one of us was reaching for some Tempo. On our way from Errachidia to Azrou, Omar, my boyfriend, had a sneezing fit and tried to stifle the last one, creating a bit of a nose fart. I started to make fun of him. My dad, charming in on the fun, tried to bless him. Insteading of saying, “RHumkullah!” as we had just learned the day before, he got confused and said, “Yetfut!”
“Dad, that means delicious,” I said, my lips breaking into the biggest preemptive outburst of laughter. “Oh my god!” and we all died laughing in the car. My mom, driving, tears streaming down her face because she was laughing so hard. We imagined scenarios where my dad would respond to a random sneeze in a cafe or on the street, “Yetfut!”
The man has the best intentions and tried really hard to remember phrases. I think maybe his German “Gezundheit” might have somehow messed him up. Oh well. Next time that guy in the taxi sneezes all over the seat in front of you, bless him with a “Yetfut!” and offer a tissue.
I love language. High five.
I tried best to prepare them for all that could be expected: indigestion, conservative garb, alarm clock style calls to prayer, traffic, and vendor harassment. They are fairly well traveled having vacationed in Peru, Costa Rica, and Germany, among others. This was still a first for them, coming to Africa. I tried my best to plan a smooth trip. I knew that they would be bothered that they would not be able understand any of the languages here (gold star America!).
I tried my best, starting early, to teach them some basic Tashelheit. Words and greetings that they would hear repeatedly like “Salaam walakum, labas, thenna,” and “nchallah,” among a few others. They accents reminded me of mine in the beginning. They did pretty well remembering and tried out the greetings every morning during breakfast.
When we visited my boyfriend’s family, their first real “home stay” in Morocco, my parents were desperate for additional vocabulary. “How do I say, ‘Good Morning!’ or ‘Delicious!’?” They asked. So, easily after that, during any meal, my parents would praise my boyfriend’s mom, telling her that the food was “IHla bzzf!” (very good,) or “Yetfut!” (delicious.)
We had a great time in Morocco. I couldn’t have asked for better weather, suitable hotels, or just for things to work out as nicely as they did. Randomly, I believe the recent change in seasons might have out my boyfriend and I on a bit of a sneezing frenzy. It seemed that every morning one of us was reaching for some Tempo. On our way from Errachidia to Azrou, Omar, my boyfriend, had a sneezing fit and tried to stifle the last one, creating a bit of a nose fart. I started to make fun of him. My dad, charming in on the fun, tried to bless him. Insteading of saying, “RHumkullah!” as we had just learned the day before, he got confused and said, “Yetfut!”
“Dad, that means delicious,” I said, my lips breaking into the biggest preemptive outburst of laughter. “Oh my god!” and we all died laughing in the car. My mom, driving, tears streaming down her face because she was laughing so hard. We imagined scenarios where my dad would respond to a random sneeze in a cafe or on the street, “Yetfut!”
The man has the best intentions and tried really hard to remember phrases. I think maybe his German “Gezundheit” might have somehow messed him up. Oh well. Next time that guy in the taxi sneezes all over the seat in front of you, bless him with a “Yetfut!” and offer a tissue.
I love language. High five.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Revolution
I wrote this during the first day of fasting during this Ramadan. Ramadan is great in that it gives us a time for reflection. I was having a conversation with a friend that day and found we were not connecting on the same level, this was disturbing and it got me to thinking. Some differences are apparant like culture, language, religion, customs and traditions, others, I find are hidden and only visible after a more in-depth conversation. What makes us view things differently? What makes me see one situation as clear and your perception as convoluted? What matters to me and what are your priorities? We were taught differently, how does that affect our decision-making abilitis?
What do I care about? I guess one of the most pertinent thoughts that came to me was abstract thinking. Now whether this is something learned or inherent, I couldn’t tell you. I find that the ability to view situations from outside perspectives, from a different angle, from another culture another background. To truly be able to displace yourself into another’s state, this can not be accomplished fully, but the act of trying is considerable enough.
I find that I am not only in the minority but in the strangest place of trying to balance my own beliefs and cultures with respecting those of the people here. When is it appropriate to stop a conversation because it is one-sided with the other person not interested nor showing the same respect you have given him in listening to your perspective? How much leeway is given due to the differences in our common courtesy and manners regarding social behaviors versus their difference in experience, where they may not be exposed to as many people from different backgrounds, cultures, etc., I like to think of small town America and its inhabitants as being very similar. We see these people on TV. Their warped viewpoints make us shake our head in pity and sympathy. It is like they don’t know any better, so how can you be upset?
That has been much of my mode of continuing on here with my head held high and a positive countenance and outlook on the rest of my service. How can I be so upset when people do not know any better. What a shallow and haughty statement you might say! Am I looking down my nose at these people, feeling sorry for them and their lack of a better education and social graces? No. But you have to understand how frustrating it can be when sitting in a room full of women who talk on top of each other. My frustration here, once again, is who asks the hard questions? Who asks about fighting for their rights? Who wants to rally together and start demanding some respect for themselves and their sisters? Perhaps I am calling for a revolution, certainly a sexual one, certainly one for women’s rights, certainly one for the equality of women.
What do I care about? I guess one of the most pertinent thoughts that came to me was abstract thinking. Now whether this is something learned or inherent, I couldn’t tell you. I find that the ability to view situations from outside perspectives, from a different angle, from another culture another background. To truly be able to displace yourself into another’s state, this can not be accomplished fully, but the act of trying is considerable enough.
I find that I am not only in the minority but in the strangest place of trying to balance my own beliefs and cultures with respecting those of the people here. When is it appropriate to stop a conversation because it is one-sided with the other person not interested nor showing the same respect you have given him in listening to your perspective? How much leeway is given due to the differences in our common courtesy and manners regarding social behaviors versus their difference in experience, where they may not be exposed to as many people from different backgrounds, cultures, etc., I like to think of small town America and its inhabitants as being very similar. We see these people on TV. Their warped viewpoints make us shake our head in pity and sympathy. It is like they don’t know any better, so how can you be upset?
That has been much of my mode of continuing on here with my head held high and a positive countenance and outlook on the rest of my service. How can I be so upset when people do not know any better. What a shallow and haughty statement you might say! Am I looking down my nose at these people, feeling sorry for them and their lack of a better education and social graces? No. But you have to understand how frustrating it can be when sitting in a room full of women who talk on top of each other. My frustration here, once again, is who asks the hard questions? Who asks about fighting for their rights? Who wants to rally together and start demanding some respect for themselves and their sisters? Perhaps I am calling for a revolution, certainly a sexual one, certainly one for women’s rights, certainly one for the equality of women.
Grizzly Attack!
It’s not every night that I wake myself up dreaming of large grizzly bears who want to eat me alive. It was a fear instilled in me as a small girl, exploring the great outdoors and national parks every summer with my family that developed this sleeptime phobia. We were warned repeatedly through large posted signs, “DO NOT FEED THE BEARS,” pamphlets describing maulings, talks from rangers about the lone piece of bubble gum left inside a tent…
I have an admiration for these impressive animals, having seen them in the wild only from a great distance. For some reason though, in my dreams, they are on a mission to destroy our camp and eat my sisters as hor d’ouevres and myself as the main course. My dog has made cameo appearances, fighting off these beasts as well as myself, waking up with a ring of sweat on my shirt, convinced I would find a handful of thick brown fur. Why do these animals haunt me? Is it there large massive bodies, sharp claws and ravenous appetites? I really don’t know.
I grew up reading about freak alligator attacks in local lakes. Remember the summer three jogging women were killed, alligators preying upon Nikes and tube socks? I remember water skiing with friends, thinking about all the alligators we were speeding past. My mom’s friend was bit by a copperhead snake in our driveway. I worked for the Boulder YMCA Afterschool Program and had to keep the kids inside one week because a mountain lion was sighted in the neighborhood earlier (did somebody say kiddie snack?). I’ve reached my hand under the outdoor porch steps for missing tennis balls and Frisbees only to find a nest of black widows (4 total). Rabid raccoons, the angry chow next door, Burmese pythons too big to be kept as pets released into backyards, yet none of these friendly creatures visit me in my dreams like the grizzly.
I’ve thought about how here, in Morocco, there is a disturbing lack of wildlife. I saw a poster at a PCV’s house that listed all the animals that have disappeared from the great forests and deserts here. Lions once roamed these mountains, but were rounded up and killed in the Moroccan version of the Coliseum and gladiator games. The last one was killed in 1920. Wildebeasts, antelopes, wolves, and other great animals once roamed these hillsides. Now all we get to feast our eyes upon are sheep, goats and the occasional wild donkey.
Native Americans believe that the Grizzly bear has powers and is a medicine man from their people long ago. He is to be respected and revered. I for one, do both. What is it in our subconscious that causes these dreams to be so disturbingly real?
I have an admiration for these impressive animals, having seen them in the wild only from a great distance. For some reason though, in my dreams, they are on a mission to destroy our camp and eat my sisters as hor d’ouevres and myself as the main course. My dog has made cameo appearances, fighting off these beasts as well as myself, waking up with a ring of sweat on my shirt, convinced I would find a handful of thick brown fur. Why do these animals haunt me? Is it there large massive bodies, sharp claws and ravenous appetites? I really don’t know.
I grew up reading about freak alligator attacks in local lakes. Remember the summer three jogging women were killed, alligators preying upon Nikes and tube socks? I remember water skiing with friends, thinking about all the alligators we were speeding past. My mom’s friend was bit by a copperhead snake in our driveway. I worked for the Boulder YMCA Afterschool Program and had to keep the kids inside one week because a mountain lion was sighted in the neighborhood earlier (did somebody say kiddie snack?). I’ve reached my hand under the outdoor porch steps for missing tennis balls and Frisbees only to find a nest of black widows (4 total). Rabid raccoons, the angry chow next door, Burmese pythons too big to be kept as pets released into backyards, yet none of these friendly creatures visit me in my dreams like the grizzly.
I’ve thought about how here, in Morocco, there is a disturbing lack of wildlife. I saw a poster at a PCV’s house that listed all the animals that have disappeared from the great forests and deserts here. Lions once roamed these mountains, but were rounded up and killed in the Moroccan version of the Coliseum and gladiator games. The last one was killed in 1920. Wildebeasts, antelopes, wolves, and other great animals once roamed these hillsides. Now all we get to feast our eyes upon are sheep, goats and the occasional wild donkey.
Native Americans believe that the Grizzly bear has powers and is a medicine man from their people long ago. He is to be respected and revered. I for one, do both. What is it in our subconscious that causes these dreams to be so disturbingly real?
Friday, August 13, 2010
Nomad Health Hike
And this week’s PCV Project of the Week:
Nomad Health Education
Volunteer participants: 4 PCVs: Hanna Kirlin, Cory VanSteenwyk, Melissa VanSteenwyk, and Emory Nelkie. 8 First Year Medical Students from Loyola Medical School in Chicago, one pharmacist from Kelaat M’gouna, a nurse from Kelaat M’gouna, and two representatives of a Spanish travel agency, Mugámara, who’ve led the expedition for the last 2 years.
Beneficiaries: The nomadic people of the Oulilimt region and surrounding areas.
Where: Oulilimt, which is a small town/region located about 8 hours (by foot) over the Atlas Mountains from Ait Bougamez. This isolated area is where nomads often pass the summers to graze their flocks.
When: June 14-21, 2010
Goals and Objectives:
Medical Student’s Goals: To observe/collect data on demographics and prevalent medical problems nomadic people face, and to understand and eventually help prevent some of these illness; to hand out “hygiene kits” (toothbrush & paste, disinfectant soap, floss and lotion) and provide proper education on why each item of the kit is important and how to use them properly; to hold “focus groups” for women (young and old) to gain understanding on their current birthing practices and how best to improve these practices, thus decreasing infant mortality rates; to give women, of childbearing age, birthing kits (razor, clean towel, sanitary drop pad, floss, gloves, alcohol swabs, soap, and education handouts with pictures) and to administer education and discussions on proper usage of the kits (all with the help of the nurse).
Mugámara Travel Agency: Their goal was to provide the nomadic people of the Oulilimt area with an opportunity to receive medical assistance (by bringing in the pharmacist and nurse), as well as setting up an educational center for the nomadic children to attend during the summer months. They also planed and arranged all the logistics for the event. An additional goal of the agency is to learn and study the lives of these nomadic people to better understand the people they are helping (and possibly make a financial profit while doing so).
Peace Corps Volunteers Goals: To assist in any way possible in the previously stated goals with a main objective being to help increase the other foreigners’ cultural understanding and sensitivity of Morocco and Berber people, conduct translations, assist with education, and do what we do best as health/environmental volunteers by making the trip a success for the medical students and travel agency!!
• The plan was to set up two tents in two different locations about one and a half hours apart from each other (Oulilimt and Talmount). The tents would be utilized in the goals of both the medical students and travel agency doing assessments, health education and medical screenings. After this, the tents were to become temporary schools for the nomadic children to study for the remainder of the summer. The opportunity of going to school gives the youth a chance to improve their futures since the majority of nomads (men, women and children) haven’t had any formal education and many are literate and don’t speak Arabic. Secondary tents were also to be assembled to serve as housing for the teacher in each of the two sites. Two teachers, from lower in the valley, volunteer their time during the summer months teaching the students and are responsible for these tents. In addition the plan was to construct a basic pit toilet bathroom for the children and teacher’s use during these summer months.
• With the presence of a pharmacist, nurse and medical students, the tents in Oulilimt (where we camped) were to be transformed into a small clinic for two days. The idea was to have the nomads come and visit the pharmacist so they could be evaluated (and treated if possible) for their medical issues and the medical students and PCVs were to assess the area and needs of the nomads, perform health education and give out basic supplies. This is important because the majority of nomadic people that we planned to reach are at least a 2 hour walk plus an additional 6 hour transit ride from the nearest reliable medical clinic in Kelaat M’gouna. Needless to say many do not receive medical treatment as often as they should if at all. The plan for treatment was to include the cleaning wounds, diagnosing illness and the distribution of pharmaceutical medications, and verbal instructions to encourage prevention and treatment of common illnesses and ailments. Once the health work is completed in Oulilimt the plan was to travel to Talmount, a nearby village where another tribe of nomads currently spend their summers and set up an additional school (as well as collect more demographic/medical data, without the presence of the pharmacist and clinic).
What Happened:
Day 1:
• PCVs met in Ait Merrow (Emory’s site) in the afternoon. We prepared for hike, made sure all supplies were ready, and started off about 3 hours on the trail.
• We spent the night next to the river.
Day 2:
• PCVs continued on the path/river another 8 hours until sunset
• Camp was set up near river (near Irgizga and Tamzirt).
Day 3:
• Morning- found several small Hanuts with basic supplies for the next few days.
• We hiked about a total of 5 hours.
• Set up camp (near Ighrim Izdar and Ozirimt).
Day 4:
• After hiking a few hours we spotted the Medical team/Group leader/Nurse on the trail. We accompanied them a few more hours until arriving at our final destination, Oulilimt.
• The night of we collaborated (discussed goals) a bit with the others and planned out the activities of the following days.
Day 5:
• Sent a small group (1 PCV, 2 Med students and 1 Moroccan guide) to the nearest nomad homes in the surrounding regions to inform them about the Medical staff’s presence and purpose, and encouraged them to come to Oulilimt during the next 2 days
• The rest of the group cleared a large area of rocks, set up two tents (one tent for clinic/school, and the other for house of teacher) and prepared for the arrival of the nomads the following day.
• The pharmacist arrived
Day 6:
• At the clinic, visits and treatment lasted from about 11-4pm, PCVs and medical students assisted. Treatment included distribution of pharmaceutical medication (provided by the pharmacist), cleaning and disinfection of wounds, and advice about home remedies or referral to the nearest clinic if needed.
• Children were weighed using a make shift scale constructed out of tent poles and rocks. Results were used to determine if children were at normal maturing rates based on their ages.
• “Focus groups” to learn about birthing practices; led by the female nurse, female PCVs and female medical students; birthing kits where explained and given to those who were of age and expecting more pregnancies.
• Environmental lessons which included drawings and discussions were conducted by PCVs and medical students with the kids after visiting the clinic.
• Small Health Lessons were conducted by PVCs and medical students before giving each family their “hygiene kits”, these lessons included tooth brushing, hand washing, and skin care lessons.
• Medical students and Spanish travel agent constructed the bathroom for children and teacher.
• Meeting at the end of the day to discuss what went well and what needed to be changed for the next day.
Day 7:
• Same activities as the previous day, with a few changes to improve organization
o Instead of having the people wander around after they had seen the pharmacist we set up specific stations they had to visit, one at a time. They had to carry a sheet of paper that kept their demographical data organized and whether or not they received birthing kits or attended the birthing education/demonstration. They carried the sheet with them to each station where it was updated with different categories of information. At the last station, they were only given their “hygiene kit” with education if they had gone to each of the prior stations. This allowed us to know whom we had given the kits to and whom we hadn’t, and to make sure families weren’t receiving duplicate supplies. The demographical data included basic questions to allow the medical students to better understand what life is like for a typical nomad and what problems they face. The sheet also recorded who was seen and what treatment, if any, they were given.
• All hygiene kits were given away, with a few birthing kits remaining.
• Meeting at the end of the day: collaboration with PCVs and medical students to discuss successes and data collected over the last two days.
• Cancellation/postponement of building the second school/tent in the next town due to some changes in teacher’s schedule. It will be set up by the locals in July.
Day 8: Goodbyes and hiking out to Ait Bougamez.
Results:
• Total number of people (men, women and children) who visited the clinic (“doctor” visits, environmental education for kids, women’s focus groups, small health lessons) = 97
• Number of birthing kits given away = 23
• Number of women educated on the proper method of birthing (as well as a demonstration of how to use the birthing kits) = 30
• Number of children (under 16) educated on good Environmental behaviors = 20
• Number people educated on proper tooth care, hand washing, skincare (most received toothbrush/paste, floss and lotion) = 97 (everyone!!)
Things that went well:
• The supplies that the medical students brought, such as the “hygiene kits”, “birthing kits”, and school supplies (paper, scissors, markers and crayons) for the kids were really nice and the nomads definitely benefited from these items.
• The turnout of nomads this year was greater than the previous year with more women and children in attendance—even though they were a little skeptical because last year the doctor from Spain did not give out medication, only advice (this year medication was available).
• The med students were great to work with and although only one had prior experience in Morocco they brought a lot of good ideas to the table for this event and events to come and were very motivated to help anyway they could.
• We were able to involve several Moroccans (mainly the cooks, pharmacist and nurse) in leading and translating the health education (capacity building).
• The medical student’s language ability: 3 spoke Spanish fluently, two spoke French fluently, and one spoke Arabic at an intermediate level. All of these languages were spoken while on the trip and having more people with language ability helped make the trip successful because it increased the level communication with more people.
Things to improve on/vision for the future:
• Many of the challenges we faced stemmed from a lack of communication prior to the trip’s commencement. Although the goals of the travel agency, medical students and PCVs were similar they were not lined up as well as they should have been for the trip to be a success for all involved. Each came into the event wanting to accomplish their particular agenda. From our perspective, the travel agency saw the medical students as a way to achieve its goals and ensure funding for future projects and the medical students saw the travel agency as an entity they employed to run the trip, and thus, those organizing it should be more flexible to their desires on how the trip should run. This caused problems that permeated into all areas of our work, from scheduling the nomadic events to meals and how much people should pay to eat. In the future it would be best to have better communication prior to the event, so that everyone is on the same page, with a clear understanding and acceptance of each other’s goals.
• A lot of medicine was given out by the pharmacist, much of it was needed, but it’s possible that by doing this, we are encouraging the nomadic people to depend on outside help to come to them, rather than them taking the initiative of taking care of themselves (making trips to Moroccan clinics when necessary, where they can receive the same if not better help and medications).
• Another idea for the future is to bring in the group of medical students, pharmacist/doctor/nurse and PCVs to the same location when the school is already in session (after the tents and equipment have been set up by the travel agency). This way we would partner with the teacher and incorporate the health lessons into the curriculum giving the students a stronger foundation for the health education that would be given at the clinic. Also, we’d spend our time more effectively because it wouldn’t be spent setting up the tents and we could focus our time on checkups/health education. And, it’s always good to have a HCN, like the teacher, to help with the education and be a community liaison. We believe this would be more sustainable, the education would be more effective, attendance would be higher, and we could monitor and evaluate our work better.
• By dividing up (medical students/PCVs and travel agency), all parts involved can accomplish their specific goals without the other interfering.
• We were under the assumption that the pharmacist was actually a doctor, which is how we introduced him to the nomads. He did a great job, but in the future it would be nice to have a real doctor come and run the clinic.
• Because this was the first time this group of medical students came to help with the clinic, they didn’t know what to expect and therefore, organization lacked the first day of the event. Records were kept, but poorly organized and it was very difficult to know how many people came, were educated, or received hygiene kits. There was no organization in giving out the hygiene kits the first day; if we hadn’t recognized some of the people and their families, then multiple family members would have received kits while other families would have gotten nothing. And, the kits were randomly given out, without asking how many people were in each family so it’s possible not everyone in the family received toothbrushes.
• This was not a PCV planned event, we came to help and evaluate the event to see if this would be a good endeavor for Peace Corps in the future. Based on our prior experience planning health education and working with Moroccans, many of the organizational problems faced could have been avoided if we had planned the event.
Nomad Health Education
Volunteer participants: 4 PCVs: Hanna Kirlin, Cory VanSteenwyk, Melissa VanSteenwyk, and Emory Nelkie. 8 First Year Medical Students from Loyola Medical School in Chicago, one pharmacist from Kelaat M’gouna, a nurse from Kelaat M’gouna, and two representatives of a Spanish travel agency, Mugámara, who’ve led the expedition for the last 2 years.
Beneficiaries: The nomadic people of the Oulilimt region and surrounding areas.
Where: Oulilimt, which is a small town/region located about 8 hours (by foot) over the Atlas Mountains from Ait Bougamez. This isolated area is where nomads often pass the summers to graze their flocks.
When: June 14-21, 2010
Goals and Objectives:
Medical Student’s Goals: To observe/collect data on demographics and prevalent medical problems nomadic people face, and to understand and eventually help prevent some of these illness; to hand out “hygiene kits” (toothbrush & paste, disinfectant soap, floss and lotion) and provide proper education on why each item of the kit is important and how to use them properly; to hold “focus groups” for women (young and old) to gain understanding on their current birthing practices and how best to improve these practices, thus decreasing infant mortality rates; to give women, of childbearing age, birthing kits (razor, clean towel, sanitary drop pad, floss, gloves, alcohol swabs, soap, and education handouts with pictures) and to administer education and discussions on proper usage of the kits (all with the help of the nurse).
Mugámara Travel Agency: Their goal was to provide the nomadic people of the Oulilimt area with an opportunity to receive medical assistance (by bringing in the pharmacist and nurse), as well as setting up an educational center for the nomadic children to attend during the summer months. They also planed and arranged all the logistics for the event. An additional goal of the agency is to learn and study the lives of these nomadic people to better understand the people they are helping (and possibly make a financial profit while doing so).
Peace Corps Volunteers Goals: To assist in any way possible in the previously stated goals with a main objective being to help increase the other foreigners’ cultural understanding and sensitivity of Morocco and Berber people, conduct translations, assist with education, and do what we do best as health/environmental volunteers by making the trip a success for the medical students and travel agency!!
• The plan was to set up two tents in two different locations about one and a half hours apart from each other (Oulilimt and Talmount). The tents would be utilized in the goals of both the medical students and travel agency doing assessments, health education and medical screenings. After this, the tents were to become temporary schools for the nomadic children to study for the remainder of the summer. The opportunity of going to school gives the youth a chance to improve their futures since the majority of nomads (men, women and children) haven’t had any formal education and many are literate and don’t speak Arabic. Secondary tents were also to be assembled to serve as housing for the teacher in each of the two sites. Two teachers, from lower in the valley, volunteer their time during the summer months teaching the students and are responsible for these tents. In addition the plan was to construct a basic pit toilet bathroom for the children and teacher’s use during these summer months.
• With the presence of a pharmacist, nurse and medical students, the tents in Oulilimt (where we camped) were to be transformed into a small clinic for two days. The idea was to have the nomads come and visit the pharmacist so they could be evaluated (and treated if possible) for their medical issues and the medical students and PCVs were to assess the area and needs of the nomads, perform health education and give out basic supplies. This is important because the majority of nomadic people that we planned to reach are at least a 2 hour walk plus an additional 6 hour transit ride from the nearest reliable medical clinic in Kelaat M’gouna. Needless to say many do not receive medical treatment as often as they should if at all. The plan for treatment was to include the cleaning wounds, diagnosing illness and the distribution of pharmaceutical medications, and verbal instructions to encourage prevention and treatment of common illnesses and ailments. Once the health work is completed in Oulilimt the plan was to travel to Talmount, a nearby village where another tribe of nomads currently spend their summers and set up an additional school (as well as collect more demographic/medical data, without the presence of the pharmacist and clinic).
What Happened:
Day 1:
• PCVs met in Ait Merrow (Emory’s site) in the afternoon. We prepared for hike, made sure all supplies were ready, and started off about 3 hours on the trail.
• We spent the night next to the river.
Day 2:
• PCVs continued on the path/river another 8 hours until sunset
• Camp was set up near river (near Irgizga and Tamzirt).
Day 3:
• Morning- found several small Hanuts with basic supplies for the next few days.
• We hiked about a total of 5 hours.
• Set up camp (near Ighrim Izdar and Ozirimt).
Day 4:
• After hiking a few hours we spotted the Medical team/Group leader/Nurse on the trail. We accompanied them a few more hours until arriving at our final destination, Oulilimt.
• The night of we collaborated (discussed goals) a bit with the others and planned out the activities of the following days.
Day 5:
• Sent a small group (1 PCV, 2 Med students and 1 Moroccan guide) to the nearest nomad homes in the surrounding regions to inform them about the Medical staff’s presence and purpose, and encouraged them to come to Oulilimt during the next 2 days
• The rest of the group cleared a large area of rocks, set up two tents (one tent for clinic/school, and the other for house of teacher) and prepared for the arrival of the nomads the following day.
• The pharmacist arrived
Day 6:
• At the clinic, visits and treatment lasted from about 11-4pm, PCVs and medical students assisted. Treatment included distribution of pharmaceutical medication (provided by the pharmacist), cleaning and disinfection of wounds, and advice about home remedies or referral to the nearest clinic if needed.
• Children were weighed using a make shift scale constructed out of tent poles and rocks. Results were used to determine if children were at normal maturing rates based on their ages.
• “Focus groups” to learn about birthing practices; led by the female nurse, female PCVs and female medical students; birthing kits where explained and given to those who were of age and expecting more pregnancies.
• Environmental lessons which included drawings and discussions were conducted by PCVs and medical students with the kids after visiting the clinic.
• Small Health Lessons were conducted by PVCs and medical students before giving each family their “hygiene kits”, these lessons included tooth brushing, hand washing, and skin care lessons.
• Medical students and Spanish travel agent constructed the bathroom for children and teacher.
• Meeting at the end of the day to discuss what went well and what needed to be changed for the next day.
Day 7:
• Same activities as the previous day, with a few changes to improve organization
o Instead of having the people wander around after they had seen the pharmacist we set up specific stations they had to visit, one at a time. They had to carry a sheet of paper that kept their demographical data organized and whether or not they received birthing kits or attended the birthing education/demonstration. They carried the sheet with them to each station where it was updated with different categories of information. At the last station, they were only given their “hygiene kit” with education if they had gone to each of the prior stations. This allowed us to know whom we had given the kits to and whom we hadn’t, and to make sure families weren’t receiving duplicate supplies. The demographical data included basic questions to allow the medical students to better understand what life is like for a typical nomad and what problems they face. The sheet also recorded who was seen and what treatment, if any, they were given.
• All hygiene kits were given away, with a few birthing kits remaining.
• Meeting at the end of the day: collaboration with PCVs and medical students to discuss successes and data collected over the last two days.
• Cancellation/postponement of building the second school/tent in the next town due to some changes in teacher’s schedule. It will be set up by the locals in July.
Day 8: Goodbyes and hiking out to Ait Bougamez.
Results:
• Total number of people (men, women and children) who visited the clinic (“doctor” visits, environmental education for kids, women’s focus groups, small health lessons) = 97
• Number of birthing kits given away = 23
• Number of women educated on the proper method of birthing (as well as a demonstration of how to use the birthing kits) = 30
• Number of children (under 16) educated on good Environmental behaviors = 20
• Number people educated on proper tooth care, hand washing, skincare (most received toothbrush/paste, floss and lotion) = 97 (everyone!!)
Things that went well:
• The supplies that the medical students brought, such as the “hygiene kits”, “birthing kits”, and school supplies (paper, scissors, markers and crayons) for the kids were really nice and the nomads definitely benefited from these items.
• The turnout of nomads this year was greater than the previous year with more women and children in attendance—even though they were a little skeptical because last year the doctor from Spain did not give out medication, only advice (this year medication was available).
• The med students were great to work with and although only one had prior experience in Morocco they brought a lot of good ideas to the table for this event and events to come and were very motivated to help anyway they could.
• We were able to involve several Moroccans (mainly the cooks, pharmacist and nurse) in leading and translating the health education (capacity building).
• The medical student’s language ability: 3 spoke Spanish fluently, two spoke French fluently, and one spoke Arabic at an intermediate level. All of these languages were spoken while on the trip and having more people with language ability helped make the trip successful because it increased the level communication with more people.
Things to improve on/vision for the future:
• Many of the challenges we faced stemmed from a lack of communication prior to the trip’s commencement. Although the goals of the travel agency, medical students and PCVs were similar they were not lined up as well as they should have been for the trip to be a success for all involved. Each came into the event wanting to accomplish their particular agenda. From our perspective, the travel agency saw the medical students as a way to achieve its goals and ensure funding for future projects and the medical students saw the travel agency as an entity they employed to run the trip, and thus, those organizing it should be more flexible to their desires on how the trip should run. This caused problems that permeated into all areas of our work, from scheduling the nomadic events to meals and how much people should pay to eat. In the future it would be best to have better communication prior to the event, so that everyone is on the same page, with a clear understanding and acceptance of each other’s goals.
• A lot of medicine was given out by the pharmacist, much of it was needed, but it’s possible that by doing this, we are encouraging the nomadic people to depend on outside help to come to them, rather than them taking the initiative of taking care of themselves (making trips to Moroccan clinics when necessary, where they can receive the same if not better help and medications).
• Another idea for the future is to bring in the group of medical students, pharmacist/doctor/nurse and PCVs to the same location when the school is already in session (after the tents and equipment have been set up by the travel agency). This way we would partner with the teacher and incorporate the health lessons into the curriculum giving the students a stronger foundation for the health education that would be given at the clinic. Also, we’d spend our time more effectively because it wouldn’t be spent setting up the tents and we could focus our time on checkups/health education. And, it’s always good to have a HCN, like the teacher, to help with the education and be a community liaison. We believe this would be more sustainable, the education would be more effective, attendance would be higher, and we could monitor and evaluate our work better.
• By dividing up (medical students/PCVs and travel agency), all parts involved can accomplish their specific goals without the other interfering.
• We were under the assumption that the pharmacist was actually a doctor, which is how we introduced him to the nomads. He did a great job, but in the future it would be nice to have a real doctor come and run the clinic.
• Because this was the first time this group of medical students came to help with the clinic, they didn’t know what to expect and therefore, organization lacked the first day of the event. Records were kept, but poorly organized and it was very difficult to know how many people came, were educated, or received hygiene kits. There was no organization in giving out the hygiene kits the first day; if we hadn’t recognized some of the people and their families, then multiple family members would have received kits while other families would have gotten nothing. And, the kits were randomly given out, without asking how many people were in each family so it’s possible not everyone in the family received toothbrushes.
• This was not a PCV planned event, we came to help and evaluate the event to see if this would be a good endeavor for Peace Corps in the future. Based on our prior experience planning health education and working with Moroccans, many of the organizational problems faced could have been avoided if we had planned the event.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
A Turn of Events
Now I am wondering if this night sounds as weird as I can explain it to be. Just picture this setting first: Moroccan mud house, living room, sitting on rugs, sharing couscous in one big bowl, drinking fresh buttermilk, a clock chimes the hour but the music is broken and it’s an eerie twine (that bothers no one else but me!) and talking across the small table.
One of those more interesting days. I went to eat dinner with one family I have affectionately nicknamed them, “fun” family because it is always a good time there. Tonight they had another guest, a teacher who had learned English back in the 80s from a Peace Corps volunteer. We dominated the conversation over dinner in his broken but not bad English. We discussed his family, job, and he told me about his experience learning English from the volunteer. Somehow the conversation slowly turned from his wife and kids to his youth when he was in college bachelor days. He talked about his affairs he has had with co-workers. I felt an awkwardness and tried to turn this current slightly awkward conversation into a health lesson. I told him that I hope he had used protection because of the diseases than you can get from risky behavior, (in simple and less forward English). He told me that he was careful when seeking out women, if they had been around, he would not sleep with them. He was currently on a new schedule where he has stayed faithful to his wife for the past year. Incredible. Then he warned me of men and how they would want to sleep with me because I am, “very beautiful!” At this point I feel that the family picked up on enough key English words that they felt this was a weird or a very interesting conversation. After dinner we drank some more tea and then he excused himself to smoke, at this point the two girls tell me we need to go. We slip out another door and walk quickly, bursting out in giggles because they asked me what he was telling me and scolding him, “Hshumya!,” (Shame on him!, Reference previous blog, 10/5/2009) I felt that I couldn’t be completely honest as not to ruin this man’s reputation. I turned it into a new health conversation on my work with HIV/AIDS and STIs in Morocco and how this man and I talked about it. I think they were afraid that this man would ask me for my phone number and wanted to avoid this, especially in front of the parents.
What a fucking weird night.
One of those more interesting days. I went to eat dinner with one family I have affectionately nicknamed them, “fun” family because it is always a good time there. Tonight they had another guest, a teacher who had learned English back in the 80s from a Peace Corps volunteer. We dominated the conversation over dinner in his broken but not bad English. We discussed his family, job, and he told me about his experience learning English from the volunteer. Somehow the conversation slowly turned from his wife and kids to his youth when he was in college bachelor days. He talked about his affairs he has had with co-workers. I felt an awkwardness and tried to turn this current slightly awkward conversation into a health lesson. I told him that I hope he had used protection because of the diseases than you can get from risky behavior, (in simple and less forward English). He told me that he was careful when seeking out women, if they had been around, he would not sleep with them. He was currently on a new schedule where he has stayed faithful to his wife for the past year. Incredible. Then he warned me of men and how they would want to sleep with me because I am, “very beautiful!” At this point I feel that the family picked up on enough key English words that they felt this was a weird or a very interesting conversation. After dinner we drank some more tea and then he excused himself to smoke, at this point the two girls tell me we need to go. We slip out another door and walk quickly, bursting out in giggles because they asked me what he was telling me and scolding him, “Hshumya!,” (Shame on him!, Reference previous blog, 10/5/2009) I felt that I couldn’t be completely honest as not to ruin this man’s reputation. I turned it into a new health conversation on my work with HIV/AIDS and STIs in Morocco and how this man and I talked about it. I think they were afraid that this man would ask me for my phone number and wanted to avoid this, especially in front of the parents.
What a fucking weird night.
A Turn of Events
Now I am wondering if this night sounds as weird as I can explain it to be. Just picture this setting first: Moroccan mud house, living room, sitting on rugs, sharing couscous in one big bowl, drinking fresh buttermilk, a clock chimes the hour but the music is broken and it’s an eerie twine (that bothers no one else but me!) and talking across the small table.
One of those more interesting days. I went to eat dinner with one family I have affectionately nicknamed them, “fun” family because it is always a good time there. Tonight they had another guest, a teacher who had learned English back in the 80s from a Peace Corps volunteer. We dominated the conversation over dinner in his broken but not bad English. We discussed his family, job, and he told me about his experience learning English from the volunteer. Somehow the conversation slowly turned from his wife and kids to his youth when he was in college bachelor days. He talked about his affairs he has had with co-workers. I felt an awkwardness and tried to turn this current slightly awkward conversation into a health lesson. I told him that I hope he had used protection because of the diseases than you can get from risky behavior, (in simple and less forward English). He told me that he was careful when seeking out women, if they had been around, he would not sleep with them. He was currently on a new schedule where he has stayed faithful to his wife for the past year. Incredible. Then he warned me of men and how they would want to sleep with me because I am, “very beautiful!” At this point I feel that the family picked up on enough key English words that they felt this was a weird or a very interesting conversation. After dinner we drank some more tea and then he excused himself to smoke, at this point the two girls tell me we need to go. We slip out another door and walk quickly, bursting out in giggles because they asked me what he was telling me and scolding him, “Hshumya!,” (Shame on him!, Reference previous blog, 10/5/2009) I felt that I couldn’t be completely honest as not to ruin this man’s reputation. I turned it into a new health conversation on my work with HIV/AIDS and STIs in Morocco and how this man and I talked about it. I think they were afraid that this man would ask me for my phone number and wanted to avoid this, especially in front of the parents.
What a fucking weird night.
One of those more interesting days. I went to eat dinner with one family I have affectionately nicknamed them, “fun” family because it is always a good time there. Tonight they had another guest, a teacher who had learned English back in the 80s from a Peace Corps volunteer. We dominated the conversation over dinner in his broken but not bad English. We discussed his family, job, and he told me about his experience learning English from the volunteer. Somehow the conversation slowly turned from his wife and kids to his youth when he was in college bachelor days. He talked about his affairs he has had with co-workers. I felt an awkwardness and tried to turn this current slightly awkward conversation into a health lesson. I told him that I hope he had used protection because of the diseases than you can get from risky behavior, (in simple and less forward English). He told me that he was careful when seeking out women, if they had been around, he would not sleep with them. He was currently on a new schedule where he has stayed faithful to his wife for the past year. Incredible. Then he warned me of men and how they would want to sleep with me because I am, “very beautiful!” At this point I feel that the family picked up on enough key English words that they felt this was a weird or a very interesting conversation. After dinner we drank some more tea and then he excused himself to smoke, at this point the two girls tell me we need to go. We slip out another door and walk quickly, bursting out in giggles because they asked me what he was telling me and scolding him, “Hshumya!,” (Shame on him!, Reference previous blog, 10/5/2009) I felt that I couldn’t be completely honest as not to ruin this man’s reputation. I turned it into a new health conversation on my work with HIV/AIDS and STIs in Morocco and how this man and I talked about it. I think they were afraid that this man would ask me for my phone number and wanted to avoid this, especially in front of the parents.
What a fucking weird night.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
No Way Out
I have been stuck the past 18 days in my site due to the fact that my site is located in a gorge, the river flooding, landslides, falling rocks and the faulty engineering of roads. Luckily we still had running water and the electricity was on most of the time. I let Peace Corps know that I was in a bit of a situation if there was an emergency but otherwise everything was fine. We ran out of a few fun items like yeast, butter, milk, and the produce selection was minimal at best, but there was no panic, no problems (unlike an inch of snow in the South). I missed helping out with a friend’s health program in her site and a few meetings which was unfortunate. I got a little stir crazy since I couldn’t even get across the bridge leading into my site (it was a part of the river,) and out for a decent walk. I just hope that this is a wake-up call for the people in my village that fixing the bridge and roads in the gorge is a priority. Who knows. I read an article recently Think Again: The Peace Corps, by Robert L. Strauss about Peace Corps and its purpose. It can be found at www.foreignpolicy.com. I encourage you to read it because I find myself in this situation now: What role does the Peace Corps serve? Am I simply a diplomat for the United States? Or am I a developmental association? Do I help these people find money to help rebuild this bridge, something I have been asked to do much more recently since the weather disaster, or am I here to be a health educator and integrate into this society? It’s such a blur, and it keeps me up at night. Am I doing the best I can here? Should I be doing more? What else do I need to be doing here now? I look for direction and just find more questions. Where Peace Corps is a set of guidelines and map without a key, I find myself conflicted more and more and anxious as I approach these last 12 months. I think a trip into town tomorrow and reconnecting back with the outside world should do me a world of good. At least, I hope so.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Smile! Oh, wait, no, please dont...
At this point I have almost completed my first year. The honeymoon grace period has come and gone. There is no more culture shock. I still get disgusted but it is no longer surprising. The man on the bus who looked like he could have come been albino, spoke Berber, and had the worst teeth I have seen in a week did not surprise me, his teeth made me gag, but you get used to it. He was begging for money. It is hard not to get down on yourself and your mission. Having your neighbor go and get a tooth pulled because no one practices dental hygiene is a little upsetting when they know how to take care of their teeth. They ask me why I have all my teeth, how nice they are. I say that you need to brush them twice a day. Like this. Use some baking soda and salt. Too much sweet tea is bad, as are sweets. I need to go back into town and buy some baking soda and some toothbrushes. I know we shouldn’t give things away, but I think if I make the salt/baking soda mixture together with them and then we all brush our teeth, it would be the best way to get the idea in their heads. Feel free to start collecting toothbrushes and giving them to my sister, Becca, when she comes to visit me in May. Seeing cavities in baby teeth makes you want to scold a woman. Seeing blistered, sunburnt little kid skin makes you want to scold a woman. Hope all is well at home. Take care of your teeth.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
P In Me’s Panties (slight Irish accent appreciated)
It’s the continuous battle: stay hydrated and risk it when traveling or stay parched and be worry free. I chose poorly. I don’t even remember drinking that much that morning. I was getting on a bus around 11 am to go to Marrakech where I was flying out of the next day. The bus ride from Boumalen Dades to Marrakech is around 8 hours. I remember we had coffee, maybe a full 5 ounces of liquid, that’s it. Either way, after 2 hours inside the bus I felt like I was riding a roller coaster at Carowinds and pushed my safety harness one too many clicks down across my bladder. Luckily these buses do not come equipped with seatbelts, that thing would have been off ages ago. The biggest problem was what I was thinking. I had to keep my mind off my bladder, the ache that constantly reminded me that relief was just a second away (along with wet pants,). I thought we were going to make a quick stop in the province’s capital, Ourzazate, at which time I would hustle into the train station, pay my dirham and use one of the bathrooms there. Oh no, we breezed right by, didn’t even pull down the main strip to the station. I started counting. I started counting to 20 and holding my breath. That was at least taking my mind off my problem. I thought, great, it’s always important to be ready for anything, who knows if I might have to hold my breath for a long period of time underwater as James Bond and I struggle to escape from the sinking vehicle. I got up to 45 seconds and found myself bored but the dull ache had subdued during my 007 training. Oh great, now I am thinking about it again and it cataclysms into a full pee hurt. I was then reminded of pregnant women. Don’t pregnant women constantly deal with this sensation? This sensation of constantly having to use the bathroom? Well fuck being pregnant! I decided right then and there that I will simply insist my partner have a surgery to be capable of carrying a baby: the uterus, umbilical cord, the works. There is no way I am going to walk around for 9 months feeling like this! Jesus. Those poor women. My poor mom. Maybe they wore depends. Maybe they never traveled on a bus full of Moroccans who don’t give a shit that I have to use the bathroom really, really badly. Oh great we are pulling over. Nowhere special, the side of the road. OH! OH! So the 8 year old little boy can go piss. Just great. I look away and try not to think of the events unfolding right in front of my eyes. No way. Now I feel an injustice. I feel prejudice against women. I have to use the bathroom, but for me, out of respect, I would not get out and try to seek some pee shelter off the side of the road. Looks like I am going to have to hold it. The bus starts moving again and I look to see a nice dark puddle in the dirt. Little shit. I start thinking about James Bond (definitely not Pierce Brosnan, the new one), pregnant women, and diapers. The trio don’t work well together but it takes my mind off my aching bladder and the pain subdues, again. Great, I’m going to end up with a bladder infection. Just in time for my vacation to Italy….
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