Broken Record and Bulimic Romans

... Not "record-breaking" (but perhaps that...), but that I sound like a broken record. I had big plans two weekends ago (once Ramadan finally ended) finally to visit the Saharan sand dunes of Merzouga (and undertake my first camel ride) -- one of my last major "must-sees" in this country (although with, in sh'allah, a year left, there's plenty more that I hope to do or revisit). Anyway, yet another rainstorm blew into Assoul for a few days. Our dry land couldn't handle it, and the end result yet again was widespread flooding, roads and bridges washing out in all directions out of town, and my getting stuck in Assoul for several days (which beats getting randomly stuck out on the road somewhere, which has happened to me more than once in the past) without any form of communication (remember, even the teleboutiques don't work when the sun isn't shining!). So my desert plans were literally all washed up.

Still, I couldn't feel too sorry for myself, merely missing out on a little vacation time, as I explored the damage around town. This time, there was basically a wide river of rather rough waters flowing past town in place of what had been everyone's fields. People (women mainly, of course) immediately came out to begin surveying their losses and cleaning up after the water began to subside in the following day or two, which I certainly admired. My life is not so hard.


This past weekend was a three-day weekend culminating in a holiday on Monday in celebration of the Green March, so I finally was able to get up to the city of Meknes long enough to visit the nearby Roman ruins of Volubilis. Some of the mosaiacs were surprisingly well-preserved, although I still struggle to imagine what life must have been like in these ancient buildings when they were fully intact, painted, etc. I have visited other Roman ruins in England and, of course, Rome, but somehow an interesting fact had heretofore managed to escape me (and I can't imagine having learned and subsequently forgotten this, but...!). Our guide, Rachid, led us into the ruins of one affluent home, showing us the latrine (which was set up like a bench so folks could continue socializing while they did their business) and a "vomitorium." "The Romans," he explained, "were bulimic." Apparently, the rich ones had nothing better to do but to eat and to have sex all day (the latter evidenced by a brothel with a large, carved-in-stone male organ marking the entryway). I supposed they had to find some way to reconcile the former activity with the latter and maintain their physiques. The fact that they ate lying down couldn't have helped either.

This week, I am repeating my Gender and Development training for some new Youth Development volunteer trainees before I head back to Assoul. Back at home, my life has been full of political intrigue regarding our new cooperative-in-progress, basically causing it not to progress very much. There is still no electricity, so I am reading a lot again since my two computer batteries can barely get me through one movie (thanks Sony). That said, if anyone can hook me up with the last four episodes of Season One of "24," I'll... well, we can negotiate your reward depending upon your personal requirements! In the meantime, the fuel supplier for the town generator has cut us off, because, in theory, they'll be losing Assoul's business anyhow once the real electricity gets hooked up (never mind that those crews have all gone back up to Imilchil -- our two villages take turns protesting in order to get work done, but apparently there are simply not enough labor resources to work both places at once!). My sitemate has a new creature gracing his garden -- a turkey named "Pickles." We'll be eating Pickles for Thanksgiving with the help of a few of our colleagues, although I have gracefully bowed out of any of the slaughter and cleaning activities, and have offered up my garlic baked mac & cheese instead (so what if I've never had that for Thanksgiving before!).