I must say, I was also feeling a bit uninspired after I returned from a few weeks away in March. The women in my nedi, many of whom I find individually inspiring, can be a little more difficult to motivate and pacify as a group. In spite of pockets of ambition and talent, the whole organization seems to get bogged down in petty disputes, many of which are old news and ought to be let go! But slowly, they're moving forward, and after a meeting with a government official a couple of weeks ago, they're working on the legal paperwork to form a cooperative. This is a really big deal -- offering real business opportunities for women both inside and outside the nedi who are willing to make the necessary investments. Moving forward then, the biggest issue is going to be cultivating some leadership. I have to remember all of the social influences working against this goal, where women who are truly capable nevertheless remain somewhat shy to take formal responsibility (even those who work very hard behind the scenes), and sometimes are even most afraid of each other!
I have to mention one woman, however, who is truly impressing me these days. And this is out of several suprisingly sophisticated and well-educated women I've encountered in spite of Assoul being such an isolated village. Bzi, who is quietly motivated and appears to be above the daily nedi strife, will sit and talk to me about her interests and questions. For a woman who never completed school, she has an amazing level of intellectual curiosity. She tells me she has French language copies of Marx and Shakespeare at home. I look through my notebook and see places where she has diagrammed theories she remembers from her geometry and physics classes. In a group where one woman I spoke with didn't even realize that there was a large ocean between Morocco and the United States, Bzi is telling me that she wants to learn Spanish, and knows about Macchu Piccu when I mentioned my one and only trip to South America. In a way, I am embarassed, because when I arrived in Assoul, I feared that the only intellectual interactions I might be able to have would be with some of the men (in truth, I have to be careful where I step on that front, as they realize I like talking international politics, and of course as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I should only go so far with that sort of thing. So mainly I try just to listen...)
Anyway, I've been working harder to stay on top of my reading list (including my "spinach" -- i.e. stuff that is good for me, if not always entertaining). One thing that no doubt pulled me out of my motivational funk last month is Tracy Kidder's Mountains Beyond Mountains. This book had been recommended to me multiple times by various (reliable) sources, and now I must do the same, particularly for those of you interested in the developing world, human rights, public health, or simply reading about amazing people.
As I wait for this cooperative situation to pull together (well, I am involved in that too, but here I am a "facilitator"), and just to keep from feeling completely useless, I've gotten involved in some other activities here and there. Mainly there. Meaning I'm spending less time in Assoul for the next month or two. But more on that another day... I've definitely learned to accept the local attitude that things will happen if they happen.
Here's a pic of some of the beautiful landscapes in a nearby village where I might do some work. I cannot overemphasize how little justice my camera does to my surroundings.
And here is me being forced to dress up (yet again) like a Berber bride by some folks in said village. This game may never stop. T
he women in my nedi had been threatening to do it too, and they got me last week -- one day being disappointed that I didn't have my camera with me, and the next day (after seeing this photo) deciding that the wardrobe they'd offered was inadequate. So I think I am getting this again when I return home at the end of this week!I inherited a pressure cooker and a shortwave radio from a colleague who returned to the US a couple of months ago. The former I hadn't intended to purchase, in spite of it being a handy way to cook beans, because I didn't want to add any more potential explosives to my housewares. Now I live in fear, but I've been enjoying lentils (my fave!) on a more regular basis. The shortwave I'd also declined to purchase after standing around souk for half an hour one morning trying, without success, to locate BBC or anything else in English. Fortunately, I seem to have slightly better luck with the inherited one. It may have lots of static and require constant adjustments, but at least I'm not getting all of my news between one week and two months late now! (Case in point, my friend Jackie just handed me an October issue of The Economist, which had apparently made a little trip to Iran before finding its way back to her small village!).
I also now own my first djellaba -- an impulse buy, I'm afraid. Even though I'd been thinking of getting some nice, traditional garments as souvenirs before I return to the US, there is no need for such a thing right now! The nicest outerwear I ever see on the women of Assoul is a taharuwit (I've no do
ubt butchered that attempt at transcription!) -- a thin, black, embroidered cape that is common in the south. Anyway, my purchase followed a meeting in the city of Khenifra (adding one more amazingly beautiful yet completely different landscape to my list of gorgeous Moroccan drives!), where I was pleased to catch up with a number of friends whom I hadn't seen in months. [You know, I think some of us have these fantasies about "going native" (sorry to be a little politically incorrect) as Peace Corps Volunteers, but as it turns out, I have to say that I am grateful that I see fellow volunteers a lot.] While in Khenifra, I visited a tailor shop where one of my colleagues does some work. Well, I was just browsing (and coveting some really fancy, expensive stuff), when I must have blacked out or something, because next thing I knew they were putting a djellaba on me. When it didn't turn out to be a boxy monstrosity or a ridiculous price, I just couldn't say no. Of course, now, lazy person that I am, it's just sitting in a plastic bag getting wrinkled. But I could wear it, if the need ever arises... A couple of my friends and I also were invited to a nice meal at the tailor's nice house afterwards. Until midnight. So I was awake all night digesting kefta (meatballs), but, thankfully, had a buddy present who likewise seemed to be experiencing some insomnia. I suppose the Moroccan dining schedule is somewhat more tolerable if you have the right company to share it with! [For lack of any other Khenifra photos -- I never do well snapping pix from the bus -- here's me playing dress-up again in my new djellaba.]
Two weekends ago, I made my first real trip to Meknes (meaning I saw something besides the taxi stand) with a couple of friends. Unfortunately, with just one night to explore (and of course squeeze in a trip to Marjane -- Morocco's answer to Walmart, and I still hate it, as much as I suppose I occasionally need it), I'm already ready
for another trip back. But I did make it to a couple of classic sites, including the Bab El-Mansour and a beautiful mederssa hidden inside of the medina.I realize I must start playing tourist a little more before two years have passed and I haven't "seen anything." And then there is that little matter of escaping from the "bled," as we call it. Ahhh, cities... Where you can eat pizza and pistachio ice cream, hang out with your guy friends without everyone thinking that you're a slut, and where you can simply tell off some stranger who's pissed you off in the street without worrying that it will come back to haunt you in your village of 2,000! (Assoul is beautiful, but I think my experiment in long-term rural living will end when my Peace Corps service does!)
This is not a joke. It is an actual photo of actual toothpaste (or so it says) bought by my friend Anne here in Morocco. Maybe the Peace Corps Small Business Development Program should branch out and do some marketing advice for bigger companies.
We could also talk to the hanuts (shops) that sell eggs with dried, crusty bird droppings and occasional feathers still stuck to the shell. But then, you take what they give you... guess it doesn't hurt business.
