As you may know, I’ve been reading a ton lately on farming and one of the fun things about educating oneself on a relatively new subject is simply getting acquainted with names. It’s like a circle of friends I’m just joining; Wendell Berry, Sir Albert Howard (organic agriculture), Allan Savory (holistic management), Allan Nation (The Stockman Grass Farmer), Joel Salatin (Polyface Farms), Wes Jackson (The Land Institute), Barbara Damrosch, Thoreau (of course I’ve been quite familiar with his work for years), Deborah Madison, Michael Pollan, Weston A. Price (coolest dentist ever), Justus von Liebig (father of fertilizer-eek), Jan Smuts (introduced holism), and the list goes on and on. One of the most important people I have recently become familiar with is Charles Walters, creator of Acres USA; A Voice for Eco-Agriculture, the magazine for sustainable farming (and oh so much more). I’m actually currently reading his classic, Eco-Farm; An Acres U.S.A. Primer. It’s a tough and very scientific book, but an incredible wealth of information; truly and obviously, a very important primer to farming, in every sense. I feel like I know a crap load about all these people have done, and yet so little about simple facts like, heck, whether they’re still around or not. Anyhow, Chuck passed away on January 14th and I thank him immensely for his lifetime of work and the wealth of knowledge he has left for those of us wanting to absorb it. I hope I can continue working the land in the harmonious ways you have, and encourage others to live sustainably as well.
Because Eco-Farm is anything but a light, easy read, and because I’ve become quite hysterically excited about the subject, I’m continuing the habit of reading multiple books at once. On yet another blizzardy day this past week I read Eco-Farm, some bits of Five Acres and Independence; A Handbook for Small Farm Management (a random surprise book in a seriously over-stuffed holiday package from the states, M.G Kains is a bit of a hoot), then finally brought myself to finish YOU CAN FARM (one of those books I’m sad to end, and the moment I did, I went back and reread the first few chapters anyhow), and just for kicks began In Defense of Food; An Eaters Manifesto by Michael Pollan. Refusing to leave the warmth of my bed for two days except to pee, and grab things to much on, I spent a lot of time with Pollan’s and Walter’s words. I couldn’t help myself and finished Pollan’s book in less than two days, and it was great! I honestly didn’t have too high of hopes-I LOVED The Omnivore’s Dilemma, and was afraid it would be redundant, or even inapplicable. Since it was supposed to be about how everyday Americans could eat in ways more sustainable, well heck, I live in Morocco, and then want to farm. Well how very wrong I was. It was jam packed with all kinds of new information and ideas I’d not yet thought of. Only adding to my list of “why I wanna.” Much like preparing for some big paper, I’ve begun note-taking, idea scribbling, and quoting in a journal just for farming. Rather than a big paper, these are notes prepping for the life I aim to live. At the behest of many writers on any subject, but also farming, I’m slowly developing my own vision and philosophy, and often break in my notes for a “why I wanna” remark. Anyhow, In Defense of Food was yet another informative, if not more than a little righteous and always intriguing title by Michael Pollan and I highly recommend it.
Also, how was the inauguration? I was plopped on a ponj reading and not-socializing the historic day away. I hope it was splendid, the only direction is forward, and it’s been such a horribly long 8 years… I am not so happy, I’ll admit, at our fine new presidents poor decision for Secretary of Agriculture, but time will tell, as it always does.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
goin' up or bust
AHHH! I'm so excited! There's much to catch you all up on, but I just booked my flights for Spain and Germany, so thats really all thats on my mind right now. I've never been before, and now lived over a year directly under it so its about time I headed up there!
I'm gonna meet up with my dear cousin Danielle in Spain; we've been trying to get together and travel for years! We have to make up for "the great trip of 1996". It was great-we went cross-country with my grandparents in their motor-home, but being the oldest kid in my family I learned what it might be like to have an older sister, and being an only child she learned what it might be like to have an awful annoying sibling. We ended up all but hating each other by the end, but I can now see it as a true bonding experience. And this time around will be quite different! After a week there I'm meeting up with my awesome site-mate Natalie and we're heading to Germany for a few days, primarily Munich. It's gonna be a fairly quick trip but bound to be great, inshallah. Any contacts, advice, or even better, money you wanna contribute will be greatly appreciated! I'm mighty low on money but will be couchsurfing, eating cheap and loving all that is priceless about traveling. Now i just have to wait for my flight. . . in March.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
little edible trees
I’m sure I’ve mentioned Marjane before; is like a kind of Walmart here, except that it’s only in big cities and its crazy expensive. But sometimes it’s the only place to go for specific items. In keeping with my philosophy of living by the means available I don’t shop there much and don’t mind living without special wants. But broccoli is just about my favorite vegetable, and certainly high on my list of favorite foods in general, and being deprived of it has driven me mad. I can understand why something crazy like kiwis aren’t available here, but why not broccoli?! They have tons of cauliflower so the fact that there isn’t even a word for broccoli just infuriates me. Frozen broccoli is available at Marjane for a hefty fee, and I very thankfully had some at the PCVs house on election night. Frozen vegetables are… ok, but I’ve really had a serious hankering for fresh broccoli.
So a couple weeks ago I went to Fes with some friends and my goodness, Marjane had it! For 38ds a kilo! Just to give you some background, all my vegetables and fruits range from 2-12ds per kilo, and most are never more than 7, so 38ds is a serious jump. However I decided I’d rather splurge on broccoli than chocolate and bagged up 33.8ds worth. While my dear friends were giving me shit for it I actually was able to justify my purchase silently in my own head. Here was an example of paying hopefully close to the real price of food. I’ve been reading so much lately about the ridiculous food goings on in the states (you can read the books on it, and I really encourage you to for they are far more articulate than me) and a serious issue is the simple fact that we are paying very little for foods that are costing us so much. I admit it used to be hard for me to justify buying truly sustainable foods because of their expense, but with all this knowledge I realize that it’s just paying the honest price for an honest food, upfront, and really you get exactly your money’s worth (and seriously guys, it’s not THAT much more at the Farmer’s Market), and are supporting your community and paying the people who are actually doing the work of providing that food. So paying a hell of a lot more for my broccoli fix was in fact my decision to pay for the transportation of a food that has been imported from who knows where and been priced accordingly.
And I really enjoyed it! I ate most of it simply steamed with a touch of salt and butter just so I could enjoy it by its beautiful self. I had also splurged at Marjane on a little hunk of cheddar cheese, which I haven’t had in over a year. It was actually not very good cheddar, but making my own broccoli cheddar soup from scratch was awesome. I even included the broccoli in a spaghetti sauce one night for the very friend who shunned my purchase, but it was delicious and he was thankful. And when all my little trees were consumed, it was over and done with and I am okay with living without it again until I am somewhere it’s readily available again. I really do love seasonal food eating; it makes me sot hankful for each food as its time comes to be available. Tangerines are in season, one of only two fruits available here in the winter and I love them! It’s like candy, but better. And I’m getting mighty sad knowing I will leave this country before they come into seaon again next year. Guess ill just have to eat at least a kilo a week this season then! I’m also a new fan of leeks, I’d never cooked with them before in the states, but they are now an important addition to all my kugel baking and soup making excursions. But I tell you, once I start growing in the states you’ll lose me out there. You’ll have to find Bri beneath the broccoli.
So a couple weeks ago I went to Fes with some friends and my goodness, Marjane had it! For 38ds a kilo! Just to give you some background, all my vegetables and fruits range from 2-12ds per kilo, and most are never more than 7, so 38ds is a serious jump. However I decided I’d rather splurge on broccoli than chocolate and bagged up 33.8ds worth. While my dear friends were giving me shit for it I actually was able to justify my purchase silently in my own head. Here was an example of paying hopefully close to the real price of food. I’ve been reading so much lately about the ridiculous food goings on in the states (you can read the books on it, and I really encourage you to for they are far more articulate than me) and a serious issue is the simple fact that we are paying very little for foods that are costing us so much. I admit it used to be hard for me to justify buying truly sustainable foods because of their expense, but with all this knowledge I realize that it’s just paying the honest price for an honest food, upfront, and really you get exactly your money’s worth (and seriously guys, it’s not THAT much more at the Farmer’s Market), and are supporting your community and paying the people who are actually doing the work of providing that food. So paying a hell of a lot more for my broccoli fix was in fact my decision to pay for the transportation of a food that has been imported from who knows where and been priced accordingly.
And I really enjoyed it! I ate most of it simply steamed with a touch of salt and butter just so I could enjoy it by its beautiful self. I had also splurged at Marjane on a little hunk of cheddar cheese, which I haven’t had in over a year. It was actually not very good cheddar, but making my own broccoli cheddar soup from scratch was awesome. I even included the broccoli in a spaghetti sauce one night for the very friend who shunned my purchase, but it was delicious and he was thankful. And when all my little trees were consumed, it was over and done with and I am okay with living without it again until I am somewhere it’s readily available again. I really do love seasonal food eating; it makes me sot hankful for each food as its time comes to be available. Tangerines are in season, one of only two fruits available here in the winter and I love them! It’s like candy, but better. And I’m getting mighty sad knowing I will leave this country before they come into seaon again next year. Guess ill just have to eat at least a kilo a week this season then! I’m also a new fan of leeks, I’d never cooked with them before in the states, but they are now an important addition to all my kugel baking and soup making excursions. But I tell you, once I start growing in the states you’ll lose me out there. You’ll have to find Bri beneath the broccoli.
مبروك العيد أمكر
That transliterated in English is “mbruk leid amkor” which translates to English as happy big Eid! And your response should be الله يبارك فيك which transliterates to “llay bark fik” which means “may god grant you peace.” Anyhow, that was Tuesday, December 9, and oh so crazy but wonderful. Last year I was still in homestay at this time, if you remember, and it was not the happy holiday it should have been. So this year, far more integrated into my community, and free to roam about, I was able to visit many homes and it was one of the best holidays ever! I’m not going to describe Eid in all its glory, you can look it up, but if you don’t know already it’s the big Muslim holiday where every family slaughters a sheep.
I went to my counterpart’s family’s house first for the celebratory big bready breakfast prior to the slaughter. I thought that morning of how most Americans would pass out at the sight-some 5 or 6 forms of bread for breakfast. Sfinj-donut shaped dough dropped and fried in oil, harsha-the cornbread type cake, milowee-big, flat, fried squares of a simple bread dough, lmscoota- any kind of pond cake type thing, anyhow, lots of carbs washed down with hot sugary milk or hot sugary tea.
After a couple quick other stopovers for cookies and tea and mbrukin’ I headed to my host family’s house. We had a ram this year (all the joyous pictures are on facebook by the way, so you have to go there if you want to see them) and I hung out and watched the gutting. Oddly, I wasn’t disgusted at all, it’s actually pretty interesting. Honestly the moment I got nauseous was when I had to start eating it. Both sheep and goat have very distinct flavors, odd as it sounds, you can taste the way they smell which is hard for someone generally so far removed from their foods origins. But since reading so much lately on farming, and now being over a year into living and breathing next door to all my foods, this practice was quite beautiful to me. The sheep was raised in my site, and lived a very sheepy life- it ate grass, in sunshine, rain and snow and lived among a herd of its own. Still, I did get a taste of our own level of pollution here; when my sister cut open the larger stomach, among the usual half digested grasses was, in pieces, an entire plastic bag. Ugh. After a very sheep heavy meal I headed out for more mbrukin’ throughout the town. By the end of the night, well after midnight, and with henna on my hands I counted up the glasses of tea I’d consumed that day: 12. I’ve no idea how I still have my teeth.
We also got our first dose of boojlood the afternoon of Eid. I only got to observe a bit of it last year, but this year it was a multiple day affair. I don’t know if it’s a tradition among all Berbers, but certainly here. Every few houses join their fresh sheep skins into a big costume, making a good 15 or so of these scary things among the community, then these guys put on odd masks. A few others dress up like witches and some younger boys put together similar costumes made of plastic flour or grain sacks. Then of course there are the camels, made out of blankets and a real skull and two or three guys underneath. This pack of odd and frightening characters travel throughout the community with drummers, taking coins and scaring or messing with people. I honestly got pretty scared, one camel snipped my arm, and one boojlood, because of the lax circumstance, asked me to marry him. But it was fun and we got some good pictures. So we may not have Halloween or Santa or whatever here, but I personally feel pretty darn special, what would you give to see a bunch of boys marching through town in recently killed sheep pelts? It’s also pretty stinky. It was fun and I felt a pang in my heart for it likely being the last Eid I’ll ever celebrate, certainly my last with boojlood.
Also, in addition to mbruk leid, Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Whatever you celebrate I hope it was wonderful and you could share it with people you love, in person or in spirit!
I went to my counterpart’s family’s house first for the celebratory big bready breakfast prior to the slaughter. I thought that morning of how most Americans would pass out at the sight-some 5 or 6 forms of bread for breakfast. Sfinj-donut shaped dough dropped and fried in oil, harsha-the cornbread type cake, milowee-big, flat, fried squares of a simple bread dough, lmscoota- any kind of pond cake type thing, anyhow, lots of carbs washed down with hot sugary milk or hot sugary tea.
After a couple quick other stopovers for cookies and tea and mbrukin’ I headed to my host family’s house. We had a ram this year (all the joyous pictures are on facebook by the way, so you have to go there if you want to see them) and I hung out and watched the gutting. Oddly, I wasn’t disgusted at all, it’s actually pretty interesting. Honestly the moment I got nauseous was when I had to start eating it. Both sheep and goat have very distinct flavors, odd as it sounds, you can taste the way they smell which is hard for someone generally so far removed from their foods origins. But since reading so much lately on farming, and now being over a year into living and breathing next door to all my foods, this practice was quite beautiful to me. The sheep was raised in my site, and lived a very sheepy life- it ate grass, in sunshine, rain and snow and lived among a herd of its own. Still, I did get a taste of our own level of pollution here; when my sister cut open the larger stomach, among the usual half digested grasses was, in pieces, an entire plastic bag. Ugh. After a very sheep heavy meal I headed out for more mbrukin’ throughout the town. By the end of the night, well after midnight, and with henna on my hands I counted up the glasses of tea I’d consumed that day: 12. I’ve no idea how I still have my teeth.
We also got our first dose of boojlood the afternoon of Eid. I only got to observe a bit of it last year, but this year it was a multiple day affair. I don’t know if it’s a tradition among all Berbers, but certainly here. Every few houses join their fresh sheep skins into a big costume, making a good 15 or so of these scary things among the community, then these guys put on odd masks. A few others dress up like witches and some younger boys put together similar costumes made of plastic flour or grain sacks. Then of course there are the camels, made out of blankets and a real skull and two or three guys underneath. This pack of odd and frightening characters travel throughout the community with drummers, taking coins and scaring or messing with people. I honestly got pretty scared, one camel snipped my arm, and one boojlood, because of the lax circumstance, asked me to marry him. But it was fun and we got some good pictures. So we may not have Halloween or Santa or whatever here, but I personally feel pretty darn special, what would you give to see a bunch of boys marching through town in recently killed sheep pelts? It’s also pretty stinky. It was fun and I felt a pang in my heart for it likely being the last Eid I’ll ever celebrate, certainly my last with boojlood.
Also, in addition to mbruk leid, Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Whatever you celebrate I hope it was wonderful and you could share it with people you love, in person or in spirit!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
still qmin' and lovin it
I am well. Beyond well in fact. I’ll admit my recent near-nervous breakdown greatly contributes to how refreshed I feel now. Maybe it really just takes a year for me to really settle into a place, to feel close enough to something to not be so afraid of it. I’ve had an odd sense of belonging here since I returned from my last trip to Rabat that I hadn’t felt before. I’m spending, and want to spend, far more time out of my house and in the community, and it just feels so nice. It’s humbling to know how simple it is to be happy, for the most part at least. I overcomplicate and worry over it all so much that I never “do” any of it. I’ve just been hanging out lately, Moroccans absolutely love that and I do too. I’ve also been working, ya, who woulda thought? And that’s empowering as well.
One huge integration point I’ll share is the other day. After hanging at the co-op I went to my counterpart’s house to see what she thought of the final translation, and of course stayed for tea. It had been snowing a bit off and on all day, combined with insanely powerful winds and bouts of sunshine between the darkest clouds. Well after tea the snow became consistent, though not too heavy and it was already dark. Since they would have to walk me home anyway, they decided I should stay for dinner. Dinner of course happens around 10pm, and since I’d arrived around 5, I was there for some time. After a lengthy meal we checked outside and it became obvious that I was not going home that night. I don’t know what exactly constitutes a blizzard, but I’d call it one. Big ol’ balls of snow flying nearly horizontal to the ground. I slept in the big room with all the women and children of the house, as is custom, and we woke in the morning to nearly a foot of snow. It was beautiful, but of course comes with its own set of problems for getting through the day. It was a wonderful evening, and probably one of the warmest I’ll have this winter. If I can ever get on a connection that stinkin works right, I have some great pictures to share. (Also remember how I remarked last year on how they shovel snow off their roofs? Well my landlord was away, and I was busy so never got mine shoveled and have been paying for in the last couples days with roof leaks all over my house, fun fun. I’d add as well that winter decided to arrive way early this year; last year our first and only real snow was in early January, this year it was near the end of November, and it looks like there’s plenty more to come)
I’m also on a real high from reading. Just yesterday my mom’s package of all kinds of awesome books finally arrived, and I broke open the big one last night. I read til midnight, couldn’t sleep, and got up to read some more until around 2:30am. You Can Farm; the entrepreneur’s guide to start an succeed in a farm enterprise. I won’t delve into all that excites me about this book, or I’ll never get to bed, but the essence is simple-You Can Farm. I want to, and the education this and the many other books I’ve just acquired are a step towards making it happen. I’m still shy about revealing all my plans, for their not anywhere near ready yet. But just letting you all know I’m excited, and lhamdullah, I’m smiling again.
I also want to send a little shout out to all those that read this whom I don’t know. I honestly didn’t think anyone read this silly thing but my immediate family, some aunts and a friend or two. But it is true that people from all kinds of places and backgrounds may have thought I had something interesting to say at some point, and I thank you for reading. It’s easy to get wrapped up in our own little worlds, myself and my navel-gazing an obvious example, and I’d love to hear who you are and what you’re up to. This blogging world is a pretty amazing place and opportunities for otherwise never-realized connections are boundless.
Qmin'
29 November 2008
A bad habit I’ve acquired and mostly blame my site-mate for is conjugating Tam verbs in English, which explains the title of this here blog post; qmin’. Qm is the verb “to stay” and if I were to say correctly in Tam “I’m staying” it would be dat-qmx, but whatever. Since we’re both Californians my site-mate and I aren’t afraid to use the very important term “chillax” with can be a demand, for someone to shut up, chill out, and relax, or just a way to describe the way we are hanging out. The other poor language habit I’ve acquired is dropping the “g”. Really it’s not necessary and you still know what someone’s saying and since I communicate with other volunteers primarily via textin’ I often drop that last “g” to save time, and more often, money. So that’s what I’m doing, qimin’, in my part English-part Tam world.
After my quick little trip to Rabat and the wonkyness of saying goodbye to the COSing staj I made the trip home. I say wonky because it was a little awkward and quite sad. It doesn’t help to go see a bunch of happy people complete their service and be off to America or adventures elsewhere when I’ve been feeling so shitty. But to get out of my own damn butt for a minute I am very happy for them, tbarkala to all! It truly is an incredible accomplishment to complete 27 months of living, working and totally being in this country, or any I suppose. I am now the equivalent of a junior in Peace Corps. Six months from now a group of Health and Environment volunteers will COS, and six months later, inshallah, myself and the rest of my staj of Small Business Development and Youth Development volunteers will also COS. It’s pretty crazy to think about, and being the odd sheep in the flock the other day, listening to their views at the end and whatnot I left feeling more encouraged to fulfill my service. My way home did not go as well as I’d hoped; I managed to humiliate myself beyond compare on the train, didn’t make it to Fes in time to make the next three taxi trips before dark and had to pay way over the PC limit at a lame hotel, paid way too much for a cyber and slept completely alone for the first time in months, and it was sad.
I came home to feed the very hungry cats, cuddle a bit, and be off again, hopefully my last trip out of site for a long time, to Thanksgiving at one of my dear friend’s sites! I barely made it through a crazy snow storm, and ill-equipped attire wise. Kathy just laughed as I entered, wet and grumpy. But we are quite the happy homemakers and smiled through the hours and hours we spent preparing. Others came later and helped a ton too. Some highlights; a real turkey a couple people had had slaughtered the day before, enough mashed potatoes and even more “gravy” to feed a small country, the most amazing dinner rolls ever, and corn bread stuffing (I actually learned for the first time ever that day that most people actually call it “dressing”, what?!), and an amazing walnut honey pie. Remember that all of this is made from absolute scratch; no frozen pie crusts, bread in a bag, etc. My job was the pumpkin pie and kugel, and I must say I rocked it. The kugel was quite a mush pot-carrot, pumpkin, zucchini, potato, leek, onion, I think that’s it, and it was even better than my last. With no cans of Libbey’s or evaporated milk, I didn’t know if my pumpkin pie would be edible. Kathy, the dear lady, made the crust and I spent a couple hours grating tons of pumpkin, puréeing it, cooking it on the stove and evaporating the excess water. I used whole milk instead of evaporated, and it actually turned out glorious! So it is in fact possible to make pumpkin pie from scratch. Everyone loved everything and I did my best to enjoy it all and ignore the deep pang of not being in the park in LA with my family. It was nice, but I miss you all dearly and if all goes well I will be with you in that park next year!
I returned to the bitter cold that will be life as I know it in my site for many long months. I didn’t realize until late Friday night that Thanksgiving day was actually my one year anniversary in my site, crazy. Feeling too cold to get started cleaning my neglected house, too fidgety to read, not ready to sit alone with myself after so many days spent with Americans, and realizing I hadn’t eaten all day I did the one thing that always takes my mind off my mind: cooking. I made an incredible soup with leeks, onion, zucchini, carrots and chickpeas. I also made my very first challah! It was super good and tonight I’m doing it all again. Something funny I have to note is the palette of my soup, as in color. It’s all secondary colors! I just used the veggies I had- onion (purple), carrot (orange) and zucchini (green) and then the natural white of the leek and chickpeas, and natural brown of lentils. Yay, art and food. Then I’ll blend it all up in the blender for the best flavor and get a purdy and yummy brown. I also hung yet another set of strings from my bamboo ceiling so I can hang the bowl of dough directly above the stove so it will rise well from the heat of whatever else I’m cooking.
I plan on spending a long while in site now. I get to go to suq tomorrow for the first time in I think three weeks! I went to the cooperative today and they were all glad to see me and I assured them I wasn’t going away again for awhile. They joked that it was too cold here and Rabat may be better but I said oho! (no!) I love it here and am tired of traveling so I’m happy to be qmin’. I finally have the Arabic and French translations for the new brochure so I’ll get it typed up right and it should be ready before Eid, inshallah! And just today there was more serious talk about fixing the big looms. I’m also thinking about taking a trip soon… I need something to look forward. It’s odd, even though I’m further away from home than ever, I’ve never stayed in such a small area for so long before. I’ll let you all know what my trip plans are soon…
Friday, November 21, 2008
PB&J
After two days of avoiding everything here and just being an all around shivering grump, getting lost in and finishing both Julie and Julia and Back to the Soil I decided to start a fire. Sometimes all it takes is being warm and clean to make you smile. I got my ferno, essentially a little woodburning stove , going real good, and bucket bathed right there. Not exactly a hammam but it was nice. I felt so limber I did an episode of yoga from a care package from my dear aunt Laura. Then I read for awhile , A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson is my newest acquisition . I started getting hungry but had absolutely no food in the house. So i mixed up my special pita dough recipie and set it to rise near the ferno while I read for another hour . Not wanting to leave the heavenly warmth of my room I baked that pita loaf right on top of my ferno . I burned half but it still turned out pretty darn good. I had out peanut butter sent from one side of the family and grape jelly sent from the other and combined it all for my first peanut butter and jelly sandwhich in over a year. And it was delicious. Yes I know, anything but a whloesome meal. But I was warm, clean , eating something yummy, reading something funny and had two happy cats snoozing on my lap. It was a fine evening. Now back to Africa…
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
tis so long i dont even know what its about
First off I just have to give a huge congratulations to OBAMA! It deserves a big lhamdulilah (thank god) though really I thank the American people for whose majority finally made a good decision! Thank you! And I can say for certain the greater portion of Moroccans I know thank you as well! Fun language side-note I simply can’t resist- McCain sounds almost exactly like ma kayn(sh), which is Arabic for “there isn’t.” Funny and I just really felt the need to share that.
Anyhow, my Obama joy came at the end of quite a little trip down south. I had some post Halloween fun with some friends and after recovering from a sour hangover on a long bus I arrived at my CBT site, the lovely little village I first called home and was adopted by in Morocco. It began awkward, with the guilt of taking so long to return and my poor Tam coupled with the fact that the dialect is very different, but soon enough we fell right back into place. I hadn’t forgotten how much I loved my first family in Morocco, but I was still surprised how much I enjoyed and missed their company in the less than 24-hour time I had to be with them again. My mom was loud and fast talking and nuts as ever, my sister as clingy and wanting, though a far better cook, and the boys just as sweet though disturbingly taller.
Now I am always and forever a great lover of couscous, but there has been a disappointing trend of couscous in my site. There are many varieties of couscous of course, but wet and dry define a lot. In my site it’s been un-spiced, with a few chickpeas and some sheep or chicken and about a gallon of aggu, or buttermilk, by my definition-disgusting. I totally respect them and their love of wet sour-milk drenched couscous, but I just don’t like it. As a result, I’ve been very deprived lately of my weekly quota of couscous, so when I went “home” down south I happily welcomed theirs. A wonderful big pile of it, quite salty and moistened only a bit with meat juices, and covered with collard greens, carrot, potato, pumpkin, parsnip, onion and zucchini, oh delicious. And I repeatedly praised the food, bumping up my sister’s self-esteem to great heights. The next morning I accompanied them on the daily task, though I wasn’t allowed to lift a finger, only observe, of shaking out and plucking off all the leaves of fig and various other trees done fruiting for the season to feed to the animals. It was a wonderful trip and I promised to return again in the spring, or at very latest, in the summer.
I made my long trip back north and, with much appreciated approval from Peace Corps staff we were all allowed to travel for the election. Just a few friends and I went to a PCV’s house who had this amazing little gadget which allows you to watch TV live on your computer. It was great, and though we all pooped out around two, after the first couple polls closed, we were awoke by one girl screeching around 4:30am, “He won! He won! He won!” Tired as I was, I was up, unbelieving, and unbelievably happy. We opened a bottle of terrible champagne, managed to each drink a small cup, watch McCain’s poor speech, Obama’s AMAZING speech and I definitely fell back to sleep with a big smile on my face.
We awoke late the next morning to hear more results and discuss the wonderful victories, and chat about what was gonna happen next, one friend said, “you know, it’s really weird to feel good about America again, like to feel inspired about the future” and we all felt similar. I’ve definitely been noticing more and more to be thankful for about America during my time here, but to truly be inspired about the future? Well I haven’t felt that for my home country in a long ass time. So, yay for us huh? I think so.
I returned to site, many texts of joy to other volunteers, some jumping up and down, and many congrats from Moroccans later, for a quick stint in site before turning around and leaving, again. And I really, really didn’t want to go. I was tired, and the thought of leaving my baby boy home alone in the cold was just not nice. But I had to go, to the great capital, Rabat, for MSM (mid-service meds), the second to last time my whole staj would be joined as a whole group. I was quite grumpy after the 6-hour bus ride, and some really awful harassment within an hour of arriving in the great city. I was tired, and I really didn’t feel like spending money or getting poked and prodded by anybody. But of course I got grumpier because that’s exactly what happened. A busy few days of labs, x-rays, dentist appointments, physicals and really expensive eating out. The food is great let me tell you, but I honestly far prefer my own cooking now, which is far cheaper and just as damn good, if not better.
While I was in Rabat I was reminded again, and will now remind all of you, of just how weird we PCVs are. Take stool samples, for example. While a year ago I got all red in the face and shy anyone farted or mentioned sex or talked about how ya, girls shit too, I’ve lost any and all pride now. They passed out those cute little plastic cups and caps, brown paper bags and wooden sticks (this last one just confused us) and sent us off. The main point of this of course is to check for parasites, which many of us acquire here. I thankfully have not, as of yet. But it was with much humor and far too little discretion that we ran around the classiest city in Morocco with our little poo samples to the lab, joking about who had and hadn’t yet, and where, and how and that we must hurry for if we don’t get it to the lab within half an hour it’s no good anymore and we have to do it again. I even complained that I had to use the brown paper bag, for I’d much rather take the brown paper bag home for making pita bread (it’s essential for keeping pita soft after baking, and the only place I know they are available is our PC med office) So anyhow, that was that.
To further delve into what no one needs to know, but possibly explains at least some part of my bad mood; the morning of my appointed physical and pap, oh joy, it was that time of the month again. Forgive my language, but “Fuck!” was my initial reaction to this most beautiful gift of womanhood this time around. Mostly I was just stinkin pissed because it meant I’d have to come all the way back to Rabat again soon. Oh well. More pricey food later, and second piercings in my ears (that was a yay moment) and we were finally released back to our sites. I made a stopover in Azrou to pick up a cat. A girl who is COSing but coming back for a job needed a cat sitter for 6 weeks, and I agreed. My boy needs a buddy when I’m away and it’s nice to have two lap warmers. The new gal is currently seated on my lap and Bu at my side. If it was only a maybe before I can say now it’s a fact that I’ve become a lonely crazy cat lady.
So back to site meant back to the cold. In my determination to me unhappy about having to be there I forgot to be thankful for the weather in Rabat. In hindsight Rabat was like fall in Ventura, so lovely. Not much different from the rest of the year, just a slight crisp chill in the air in the evening, and I love that. Even more depressing is that I missed going to the beach even once, but really just hadn’t had time. Back here, home, I’m remembering exactly why I hate winter so much. How the cold gets in your bones and never leaves, no matter how many cats or blankets or happy thoughts you can conjure up. And it’s not even that cold yet. Though it didn’t provide much warmth, the last thing I’ve been wanting to do is move more than five inches away from my electric heater, but due to too much rich food in Rabat I’ve got even more too much info for you all, the shits. I’m so sorry you have to hear that, but again, I really don’t care.
I also had another site visit yesterday, and no I don’t want to talk about it. No work isn’t going any better or worse. Mostly I just haven’t been here, but after my second trip to Rabat for the damn pap smear next week and Thanksgiving at another friend’s site, I hope to stay home more, survive Leid Al Adha and get back to work. Right now I’m reading. A lot again. Mostly to keep my mind off my mind, but also because I’ve got a lot of new books arriving soon and want to finish some I still have here. I’ve been reading Back to the Soil; The Jewish Farmers of Clarion, Utah, and Their World by Robert Alan Goldberg. I’ve been meaning to read this book for years, mostly just because I’m related to one of them, and it’s just kind of cool to read a book a blood relative was part of; but recently it hits home for real since my current little dream forming is farming. Also honestly, I don’t know that I could have gotten through a history book so easily before. I love history, but dry writing has never been a real good idea if I want to stay awake. This book isn’t written with any kind of special enthusiasm, but I love it! No tiredness here for sure, though it is a bit depressing because, after all, it is about a great failure.
I’m a good two thirds of the way through Back to the Soil, and I really don’t like starting a new book when I’m not done with another, but last night I was feeling cold, in the pits and just needed something else and began Julie & Julia by Julie Powell. I read a few pages shy of 200 and went to bed at nearly 2am. Sometimes it’s just what I need, like Eat, Pray, Love, not because it’s a literary masterpiece but because it’s about some worried woman’s unhappy life and something they start doing to change it in some way, bitching the whole time. I don’t feel much sympathy, or even inspiration, I’m just happy for the time to not be bitching about the mess I think of my own life. And the best way for me to do that seems to be to read someone else doing the same thing. I don’t feel much in common with Julie; except maybe the food, and my worry that I’ll be a confused 20 or 30 or even 40 something, only without the loving husband in tote.
It’s not like it takes much to get me thinking about food, for it’s the one thing I do good here, but the book is much about food, so here go yet more words on the subject. Have I mentioned I never want to live a life where I need a microwave again? Well I really mean it. I’ve lived a year without micro-waved food and love it. If I can say one positive thing about my overseas experience it’s my love and appreciation of food, or really, that process that keeps us alive physically, and the fulfillment making such things from scratch brings, which greatly contributes to mental health as well. A great inspiration of course was reading The Omnivores Dilemma, but more it just reaffirmed and gave weight to beliefs I had but didn’t believe in (yes I know that makes no sense, I’ve told you before I’m just one long, nonsensical run-on).
So I recently got a package from home containing, among other items, lots of food products. I will admit right off the bat here that there with always remain a special place in my heart my greatest comfort food, mac n cheese, I know it’s all obtuse ingredients but it tastes like something good from childhood so I’m ok with the indulgence once in a blue moon. But I do recognize now the ridiculousness of processed food more than ever. I’ve always known they’re not quite real, there all chemicals, they’re just easy food for our fast paced lives, whatever. But I honestly always thought they tasted fine. And when time is money, if it’s edible I’m gonna eat it. Well I have changed. I thank you kindly for sending me such things, but I can honestly say now, there is no need to send anymore.
I came home from the trip down south, having missed suq I had no veggies and no energy so without worry I popped open one such ten-minute meal in a bag for, well, a meal. The poor pieces of quick cooking pasta sadly dozed around the boiling water with the powder to soon form a supposedly rich creamy-broccoli garlic sauce. Nonsense. It was terrible. If I hadn’t been so hungry I’d have thrown it out. Still without veggies, the next day I had another packet, same directions, supposedly different favor. Two more revelations came about from this process, a) both tasted exactly the same (which makes sense after reading Michael Pollan’s book and finding out that most of the ingredients are in fact the same-some product of corn, and after a year of my taste buds growing used to actually tasting different foods together) and b) it was ridiculously sad to be done cooking dinner in ten minutes. It’s not like I have all the free time in the world here but I’m now accustomed to actually setting aside more time preparing my meal than eating it, far more, and I like that. I enjoy chopping and sautéing and discovering how much of one spice I can handle and how much of another the dish needs, it’s fun, meditative and oh so fulfilling to eat! After some unhappy quick meals, suq day arrived and I made some amazing soups of my own.
I have many fears about returning to the states, and a big one is definitely falling back into the routine of eating and being content with such easy food I’m afraid it won’t take long at all for my taste buds to accept bland microwave products again and to think that gourmet food is only something you can get in restaurants or on big holidays like Thanksgiving, worthy of the work of actual cooking. Because in the states, unlike here, it’s easier to eat food from a bag than off the land. Which is why I’ve just got to become a farm girl right?
I do feel a little bad, and confused, and lacking in articulate wording lately. As I’ve spoken to family members recently I don’t know how to explain exactly what this “thing” is that I want to do so badly when I get back, at least not without sounding like a dumb hippie. No don’t want to go back to school, not at all actually, I don’t even really want to travel. I want to farm. I want to be on the land. Maybe it’s the odd juxtaposition of my newfound love of real food, combined with my newfound weight gain of 11 pounds due to lack of enough exercise despite such good food (no exaggeration, I just got weighed in Rabat), but I want to live simple, as Julie said, “Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be a part of something that was not easy, just simple.”
For there is a huge difference between simple and easy. I say often that the people live here simply, but in no way does that mean to imply they live easy. Compared to my standard of living in the states, physically at least, life here is anything but easy. I would say mentally life in the states may have been anything but easy due to all the contradictions I was living, all the distractions from what I truly deem important and valuable to life. Maybe I need to go back to therapy, or better, I just need to start listening to my own advice. At some point you have to sit down with yourself and admit what it is that you know makes you smile, what will keep the light on in your soul. I over complicate myself, but I am quite simple, and maybe life would be easier if I would live in such a way. I am so tired. I don’t know just how to go about doing this thing, this dreamy thing, but it’s making me smile and that’s what I need right now.
Anyhow, my Obama joy came at the end of quite a little trip down south. I had some post Halloween fun with some friends and after recovering from a sour hangover on a long bus I arrived at my CBT site, the lovely little village I first called home and was adopted by in Morocco. It began awkward, with the guilt of taking so long to return and my poor Tam coupled with the fact that the dialect is very different, but soon enough we fell right back into place. I hadn’t forgotten how much I loved my first family in Morocco, but I was still surprised how much I enjoyed and missed their company in the less than 24-hour time I had to be with them again. My mom was loud and fast talking and nuts as ever, my sister as clingy and wanting, though a far better cook, and the boys just as sweet though disturbingly taller.
Now I am always and forever a great lover of couscous, but there has been a disappointing trend of couscous in my site. There are many varieties of couscous of course, but wet and dry define a lot. In my site it’s been un-spiced, with a few chickpeas and some sheep or chicken and about a gallon of aggu, or buttermilk, by my definition-disgusting. I totally respect them and their love of wet sour-milk drenched couscous, but I just don’t like it. As a result, I’ve been very deprived lately of my weekly quota of couscous, so when I went “home” down south I happily welcomed theirs. A wonderful big pile of it, quite salty and moistened only a bit with meat juices, and covered with collard greens, carrot, potato, pumpkin, parsnip, onion and zucchini, oh delicious. And I repeatedly praised the food, bumping up my sister’s self-esteem to great heights. The next morning I accompanied them on the daily task, though I wasn’t allowed to lift a finger, only observe, of shaking out and plucking off all the leaves of fig and various other trees done fruiting for the season to feed to the animals. It was a wonderful trip and I promised to return again in the spring, or at very latest, in the summer.
I made my long trip back north and, with much appreciated approval from Peace Corps staff we were all allowed to travel for the election. Just a few friends and I went to a PCV’s house who had this amazing little gadget which allows you to watch TV live on your computer. It was great, and though we all pooped out around two, after the first couple polls closed, we were awoke by one girl screeching around 4:30am, “He won! He won! He won!” Tired as I was, I was up, unbelieving, and unbelievably happy. We opened a bottle of terrible champagne, managed to each drink a small cup, watch McCain’s poor speech, Obama’s AMAZING speech and I definitely fell back to sleep with a big smile on my face.
We awoke late the next morning to hear more results and discuss the wonderful victories, and chat about what was gonna happen next, one friend said, “you know, it’s really weird to feel good about America again, like to feel inspired about the future” and we all felt similar. I’ve definitely been noticing more and more to be thankful for about America during my time here, but to truly be inspired about the future? Well I haven’t felt that for my home country in a long ass time. So, yay for us huh? I think so.
I returned to site, many texts of joy to other volunteers, some jumping up and down, and many congrats from Moroccans later, for a quick stint in site before turning around and leaving, again. And I really, really didn’t want to go. I was tired, and the thought of leaving my baby boy home alone in the cold was just not nice. But I had to go, to the great capital, Rabat, for MSM (mid-service meds), the second to last time my whole staj would be joined as a whole group. I was quite grumpy after the 6-hour bus ride, and some really awful harassment within an hour of arriving in the great city. I was tired, and I really didn’t feel like spending money or getting poked and prodded by anybody. But of course I got grumpier because that’s exactly what happened. A busy few days of labs, x-rays, dentist appointments, physicals and really expensive eating out. The food is great let me tell you, but I honestly far prefer my own cooking now, which is far cheaper and just as damn good, if not better.
While I was in Rabat I was reminded again, and will now remind all of you, of just how weird we PCVs are. Take stool samples, for example. While a year ago I got all red in the face and shy anyone farted or mentioned sex or talked about how ya, girls shit too, I’ve lost any and all pride now. They passed out those cute little plastic cups and caps, brown paper bags and wooden sticks (this last one just confused us) and sent us off. The main point of this of course is to check for parasites, which many of us acquire here. I thankfully have not, as of yet. But it was with much humor and far too little discretion that we ran around the classiest city in Morocco with our little poo samples to the lab, joking about who had and hadn’t yet, and where, and how and that we must hurry for if we don’t get it to the lab within half an hour it’s no good anymore and we have to do it again. I even complained that I had to use the brown paper bag, for I’d much rather take the brown paper bag home for making pita bread (it’s essential for keeping pita soft after baking, and the only place I know they are available is our PC med office) So anyhow, that was that.
To further delve into what no one needs to know, but possibly explains at least some part of my bad mood; the morning of my appointed physical and pap, oh joy, it was that time of the month again. Forgive my language, but “Fuck!” was my initial reaction to this most beautiful gift of womanhood this time around. Mostly I was just stinkin pissed because it meant I’d have to come all the way back to Rabat again soon. Oh well. More pricey food later, and second piercings in my ears (that was a yay moment) and we were finally released back to our sites. I made a stopover in Azrou to pick up a cat. A girl who is COSing but coming back for a job needed a cat sitter for 6 weeks, and I agreed. My boy needs a buddy when I’m away and it’s nice to have two lap warmers. The new gal is currently seated on my lap and Bu at my side. If it was only a maybe before I can say now it’s a fact that I’ve become a lonely crazy cat lady.
So back to site meant back to the cold. In my determination to me unhappy about having to be there I forgot to be thankful for the weather in Rabat. In hindsight Rabat was like fall in Ventura, so lovely. Not much different from the rest of the year, just a slight crisp chill in the air in the evening, and I love that. Even more depressing is that I missed going to the beach even once, but really just hadn’t had time. Back here, home, I’m remembering exactly why I hate winter so much. How the cold gets in your bones and never leaves, no matter how many cats or blankets or happy thoughts you can conjure up. And it’s not even that cold yet. Though it didn’t provide much warmth, the last thing I’ve been wanting to do is move more than five inches away from my electric heater, but due to too much rich food in Rabat I’ve got even more too much info for you all, the shits. I’m so sorry you have to hear that, but again, I really don’t care.
I also had another site visit yesterday, and no I don’t want to talk about it. No work isn’t going any better or worse. Mostly I just haven’t been here, but after my second trip to Rabat for the damn pap smear next week and Thanksgiving at another friend’s site, I hope to stay home more, survive Leid Al Adha and get back to work. Right now I’m reading. A lot again. Mostly to keep my mind off my mind, but also because I’ve got a lot of new books arriving soon and want to finish some I still have here. I’ve been reading Back to the Soil; The Jewish Farmers of Clarion, Utah, and Their World by Robert Alan Goldberg. I’ve been meaning to read this book for years, mostly just because I’m related to one of them, and it’s just kind of cool to read a book a blood relative was part of; but recently it hits home for real since my current little dream forming is farming. Also honestly, I don’t know that I could have gotten through a history book so easily before. I love history, but dry writing has never been a real good idea if I want to stay awake. This book isn’t written with any kind of special enthusiasm, but I love it! No tiredness here for sure, though it is a bit depressing because, after all, it is about a great failure.
I’m a good two thirds of the way through Back to the Soil, and I really don’t like starting a new book when I’m not done with another, but last night I was feeling cold, in the pits and just needed something else and began Julie & Julia by Julie Powell. I read a few pages shy of 200 and went to bed at nearly 2am. Sometimes it’s just what I need, like Eat, Pray, Love, not because it’s a literary masterpiece but because it’s about some worried woman’s unhappy life and something they start doing to change it in some way, bitching the whole time. I don’t feel much sympathy, or even inspiration, I’m just happy for the time to not be bitching about the mess I think of my own life. And the best way for me to do that seems to be to read someone else doing the same thing. I don’t feel much in common with Julie; except maybe the food, and my worry that I’ll be a confused 20 or 30 or even 40 something, only without the loving husband in tote.
It’s not like it takes much to get me thinking about food, for it’s the one thing I do good here, but the book is much about food, so here go yet more words on the subject. Have I mentioned I never want to live a life where I need a microwave again? Well I really mean it. I’ve lived a year without micro-waved food and love it. If I can say one positive thing about my overseas experience it’s my love and appreciation of food, or really, that process that keeps us alive physically, and the fulfillment making such things from scratch brings, which greatly contributes to mental health as well. A great inspiration of course was reading The Omnivores Dilemma, but more it just reaffirmed and gave weight to beliefs I had but didn’t believe in (yes I know that makes no sense, I’ve told you before I’m just one long, nonsensical run-on).
So I recently got a package from home containing, among other items, lots of food products. I will admit right off the bat here that there with always remain a special place in my heart my greatest comfort food, mac n cheese, I know it’s all obtuse ingredients but it tastes like something good from childhood so I’m ok with the indulgence once in a blue moon. But I do recognize now the ridiculousness of processed food more than ever. I’ve always known they’re not quite real, there all chemicals, they’re just easy food for our fast paced lives, whatever. But I honestly always thought they tasted fine. And when time is money, if it’s edible I’m gonna eat it. Well I have changed. I thank you kindly for sending me such things, but I can honestly say now, there is no need to send anymore.
I came home from the trip down south, having missed suq I had no veggies and no energy so without worry I popped open one such ten-minute meal in a bag for, well, a meal. The poor pieces of quick cooking pasta sadly dozed around the boiling water with the powder to soon form a supposedly rich creamy-broccoli garlic sauce. Nonsense. It was terrible. If I hadn’t been so hungry I’d have thrown it out. Still without veggies, the next day I had another packet, same directions, supposedly different favor. Two more revelations came about from this process, a) both tasted exactly the same (which makes sense after reading Michael Pollan’s book and finding out that most of the ingredients are in fact the same-some product of corn, and after a year of my taste buds growing used to actually tasting different foods together) and b) it was ridiculously sad to be done cooking dinner in ten minutes. It’s not like I have all the free time in the world here but I’m now accustomed to actually setting aside more time preparing my meal than eating it, far more, and I like that. I enjoy chopping and sautéing and discovering how much of one spice I can handle and how much of another the dish needs, it’s fun, meditative and oh so fulfilling to eat! After some unhappy quick meals, suq day arrived and I made some amazing soups of my own.
I have many fears about returning to the states, and a big one is definitely falling back into the routine of eating and being content with such easy food I’m afraid it won’t take long at all for my taste buds to accept bland microwave products again and to think that gourmet food is only something you can get in restaurants or on big holidays like Thanksgiving, worthy of the work of actual cooking. Because in the states, unlike here, it’s easier to eat food from a bag than off the land. Which is why I’ve just got to become a farm girl right?
I do feel a little bad, and confused, and lacking in articulate wording lately. As I’ve spoken to family members recently I don’t know how to explain exactly what this “thing” is that I want to do so badly when I get back, at least not without sounding like a dumb hippie. No don’t want to go back to school, not at all actually, I don’t even really want to travel. I want to farm. I want to be on the land. Maybe it’s the odd juxtaposition of my newfound love of real food, combined with my newfound weight gain of 11 pounds due to lack of enough exercise despite such good food (no exaggeration, I just got weighed in Rabat), but I want to live simple, as Julie said, “Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be a part of something that was not easy, just simple.”
For there is a huge difference between simple and easy. I say often that the people live here simply, but in no way does that mean to imply they live easy. Compared to my standard of living in the states, physically at least, life here is anything but easy. I would say mentally life in the states may have been anything but easy due to all the contradictions I was living, all the distractions from what I truly deem important and valuable to life. Maybe I need to go back to therapy, or better, I just need to start listening to my own advice. At some point you have to sit down with yourself and admit what it is that you know makes you smile, what will keep the light on in your soul. I over complicate myself, but I am quite simple, and maybe life would be easier if I would live in such a way. I am so tired. I don’t know just how to go about doing this thing, this dreamy thing, but it’s making me smile and that’s what I need right now.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
labas
30 October
I am overcome with love and respect for my village right now. I woke up early to singing from the mosque. Generally the only thing you hear from a mosque is the call to prayer five times a day, but sometimes there are songs. The songs are actually Koran readings and I find them very beautiful regardless of my not knowing the words or necessarily believing in their meaning. Today I found out this reading was for a woman who just died nearby. I don’t know what makes her passing different than others; just two weeks ago one of my neighbors died and there was no singing, maybe I’ll find out soon. I’ve been to quite a few death ceremonies, very similar to baby naming ceremonies and even weddings; lots of the same food, lots of people, lots of waiting, lots of hanging out. The difference of course is death ceremonies are sad and rather than drumming and joyous old songs, there is a lot of howling and wailing. They are supposed to last three days, but seem to go on a bit longer around here. Anyhow an important part of death in Islam is that the body must be buried very quickly, I think within 12 hours or something. So a few minutes ago I heard more singing along with the mosque and looked outside my window. 30 or so men were walking with the casket by my house on their way to the graveyard. It was just very beautiful to me and though I couldn’t attend the burial because I am a woman, I’m thankful I could observe some part of the ritual.
Aside from this little moment of culture and loving my site, I have been well overall. I think it’s very much due to the CBT presence the past month and a half. Yesterday was their last day here and I felt little bits of sadness like I did last year when I was one of them leaving my first home in Morocco. It almost felt like I was leaving too, but thankfully I’m not yet, and more importantly, I don’t want to yet. I wouldn’t say work is going any better or that I have changed in any significant way but like any family I do love this little village and these people I’ve lived among for the past year. In small ways I have grown closer and more confident among the women I work with, particularly my counterpart. There’s a lot of new projects coming up, busy times and I hope to be a more integral part of it all. Oddly enough, I think it’s my newfound love and joy in cooking that has brought me closer to the women. For various affairs lately I’ve been bringing baked goods and they friggin love it! So I guess if I can’t talk, I’ll bake. Cinnamon rolls, focaccia, pumpkin spice cake, yogurt cake, chocolate pudding cake, pita bread. So okay I guess I’m not really teaching them anything about staying healthy, but I’ll work on that…
One recent event that really helped me out was a visit from Alia Kate. Her site is much more informative than I am but essentially she has an entrepreneur fellowship to start a business carrying Moroccan goods in America. She came to my site to have a look at their product and bought five huge hanbils! And has ideas for future custom orders. It was great and they loved her. Her site is www.kantaracrafts.com and her blog is www.kantaracrafts.blogspot.com once im on my own computer again ill update my links and add these.
Another reason for my recent bought of calm is feeling a little more confident about my life after Peace Corps. I know a lot more about what I want to do. I’ll update more on that soon, I’m trying to stay on a little dreamy honeymoon with my ideas before I start growing them on earth. And I’ve got plenty more books to read…
Anyhow I’m heading out, this afternoon my site mate and I are hiking our now very cold mountain again for a look at the snow. Snow before Halloween, can you believe it!? It’s actually the first clear and lovely day we’ve had in quite some time. I hear there’s been crazy flooding in many parts of the world, and we are certainly part of that group. It just never seemed to stop! I am in an area where snow and rain are expected but not nearly to the extent we’ve been having. There is nowhere for the water to go so it’s all pooled in the fields. Tons of corn, onion, garlic and potato fields have been completely drowned, mushkil imkor! (very big problem!) Nearby a few people were killed, over a hundred sheep and some donkeys. It’s awful, but today is clear and hopefully we’ll have a few dry days. I also hope the weather chills out so I can take my little trip! I’m heading down, on Halloween as it happens, to see a few friends and then visit my CBT site! It will be the first time I’ll see my first home and family in Morocco since I’ve been sworn in as a PCV. I’m very excited because I really loved my host mom and family and feel terrible it’s taken me so long to go see them. Then I’ll be heading back up and hopefully be able to watch the elections with some friends who live somewhere with access to it live!
That’s it for now, hope you’re all well and Happy Halloween!
I am overcome with love and respect for my village right now. I woke up early to singing from the mosque. Generally the only thing you hear from a mosque is the call to prayer five times a day, but sometimes there are songs. The songs are actually Koran readings and I find them very beautiful regardless of my not knowing the words or necessarily believing in their meaning. Today I found out this reading was for a woman who just died nearby. I don’t know what makes her passing different than others; just two weeks ago one of my neighbors died and there was no singing, maybe I’ll find out soon. I’ve been to quite a few death ceremonies, very similar to baby naming ceremonies and even weddings; lots of the same food, lots of people, lots of waiting, lots of hanging out. The difference of course is death ceremonies are sad and rather than drumming and joyous old songs, there is a lot of howling and wailing. They are supposed to last three days, but seem to go on a bit longer around here. Anyhow an important part of death in Islam is that the body must be buried very quickly, I think within 12 hours or something. So a few minutes ago I heard more singing along with the mosque and looked outside my window. 30 or so men were walking with the casket by my house on their way to the graveyard. It was just very beautiful to me and though I couldn’t attend the burial because I am a woman, I’m thankful I could observe some part of the ritual.
Aside from this little moment of culture and loving my site, I have been well overall. I think it’s very much due to the CBT presence the past month and a half. Yesterday was their last day here and I felt little bits of sadness like I did last year when I was one of them leaving my first home in Morocco. It almost felt like I was leaving too, but thankfully I’m not yet, and more importantly, I don’t want to yet. I wouldn’t say work is going any better or that I have changed in any significant way but like any family I do love this little village and these people I’ve lived among for the past year. In small ways I have grown closer and more confident among the women I work with, particularly my counterpart. There’s a lot of new projects coming up, busy times and I hope to be a more integral part of it all. Oddly enough, I think it’s my newfound love and joy in cooking that has brought me closer to the women. For various affairs lately I’ve been bringing baked goods and they friggin love it! So I guess if I can’t talk, I’ll bake. Cinnamon rolls, focaccia, pumpkin spice cake, yogurt cake, chocolate pudding cake, pita bread. So okay I guess I’m not really teaching them anything about staying healthy, but I’ll work on that…
One recent event that really helped me out was a visit from Alia Kate. Her site is much more informative than I am but essentially she has an entrepreneur fellowship to start a business carrying Moroccan goods in America. She came to my site to have a look at their product and bought five huge hanbils! And has ideas for future custom orders. It was great and they loved her. Her site is www.kantaracrafts.com and her blog is www.kantaracrafts.blogspot.com once im on my own computer again ill update my links and add these.
Another reason for my recent bought of calm is feeling a little more confident about my life after Peace Corps. I know a lot more about what I want to do. I’ll update more on that soon, I’m trying to stay on a little dreamy honeymoon with my ideas before I start growing them on earth. And I’ve got plenty more books to read…
Anyhow I’m heading out, this afternoon my site mate and I are hiking our now very cold mountain again for a look at the snow. Snow before Halloween, can you believe it!? It’s actually the first clear and lovely day we’ve had in quite some time. I hear there’s been crazy flooding in many parts of the world, and we are certainly part of that group. It just never seemed to stop! I am in an area where snow and rain are expected but not nearly to the extent we’ve been having. There is nowhere for the water to go so it’s all pooled in the fields. Tons of corn, onion, garlic and potato fields have been completely drowned, mushkil imkor! (very big problem!) Nearby a few people were killed, over a hundred sheep and some donkeys. It’s awful, but today is clear and hopefully we’ll have a few dry days. I also hope the weather chills out so I can take my little trip! I’m heading down, on Halloween as it happens, to see a few friends and then visit my CBT site! It will be the first time I’ll see my first home and family in Morocco since I’ve been sworn in as a PCV. I’m very excited because I really loved my host mom and family and feel terrible it’s taken me so long to go see them. Then I’ll be heading back up and hopefully be able to watch the elections with some friends who live somewhere with access to it live!
That’s it for now, hope you’re all well and Happy Halloween!
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