Just About On Top of the World: Climbing Mt. Toubkal

This July I embarked on a journey to climb as high as I possibly could in Morocco.  I had already gone to the center of the earth by way of the Grotte Friouato near Taza so it made sense that I would need to do the exact opposite.  I would have attempted to climb Mt.Everest, but it's not in Morocco so I had to settle for the highest peak in North Africa, Mt. Toubkal.

Summiting Mt. Toubkal, one could say, is a PC Morocco must.  It's on the circuit of must-see sites and activities that a lot of volunteers commit to doing before the end of their service.  With only five or so months left for me, I penciled in the journey for mid-July.  Some volunteers had said that the climb was not at all what they expected from the second highest peak in all of Africa.  Some were able to go up and down the mountain in a weekend without feeling much pain.  Others said that it was one of the toughest things they had ever done.  I was hoping that I would fall somewhere in the middle.  Both said, though, that the climb and ultimately summiting was well worth any pain they felt.  I did a little training to prep my self.  Three weeks prior to the climb, I began running 3-4 miles every other day and threw in some hills from time to time.  I felt I was in decent shape to take on the mountain.

The journey began at the Mohammedia train station where the day prior I had visited a couple of camp sites for the upcoming Camp GLOW.  Satisfied with the outlook of the camp, I took off to Marrakech where I would spend the night and then head out to Imlil, the launching point for most trekkers.  My Rough Guide to Morocco and several blogs recommended that trekkers spend the night in Imlil to acclimate to the elevation so I left Marrakech late morning hoping to get into Imlil sometime in the afternoon.

A PCV who had summited the mountain twice already and knows how tight our PC budgets can be suggested a cheap route to Imlil, which was to take a city bus from Marrakech at the Sidi Mimoun bus station to Tahanout (about 45 minutes and 7-8Dh), from Tahanout one could take a grand taxi to Asni (another 30-45 minutes), and then from Asni one could hop on another grand taxi to Imlil for another 30-45 minutes.

In all, I spent 22DH for the entire trip and it wasn't too unpleasant.  The city bus to Tahanout was in good shape and not too packed.  From Tahanout, we asked the locals for directions to the grand taxi Asni pickup spot and walked over there.  We saw grand taxis on the opposite side of the road dropping off passengers, but nothing came our way for about 20 minutes.  With no sign of a grand taxi to come and not wanting to wait for one in the hot sun, I and several others hopped on a semi-truck that was headed that way.  We didn't flag him down.  He honked at the group of people gathered at the spot, which was the driver's way of letting us know that he was in the business of taking passengers along with the rest of his produce.  We actually got the deluxe treatment sitting in the cabin.  I was a little cramped, but it was better than another guy who had his legs open-wide straddling the driver's seat--it looked like a painful 45 minute groin stretch.  Once we reached Asni, the truck driver just asked for the standard fare, which was around 7Dh.  Upon disembarking, I shook my legs a bit to restore them back to life, chilled out a bit at a really shady cafe with some scruffy characters typical of a pit-stop town, and then proceeded to the grand taxis heading to Imlil (8DH).  Finally, the Asni to Imlil stretch was a cool ride as the taxi coasted through the lush river bed of the Ait Mizane Valley.

I spent the night at a gite advertised in the Rough Guide called Chez Mohammed.  There are a lot of lodging options from refuge-like accommodations featuring rows of bunk beds in a general area to simple and luxurious private rooms.  When I asked around for the gite, not a lot of people knew about it, but they knew the landmarks that led to the location. So I walked towards the landmarks and kept asking people who kept saying a not-very-specific "Sir l-hih", go there.  I finally ran into a small sign on a light-post that pointed to the place.  I followed the arrow and then I arrived at another fork on the path divided by your typical Moroccan apartment building.  I didn't think that building was the place because it just looked like someone's home so I went around and asked some guys who were working on an irrigation channel, but they also had no idea where it was.  I went back to the same building, knocked on the door, asked if that was Chez Mohammed and lo and behold it was.

One of the ladies that greeted us who I presumed had to be related to Mohammed took me to the second floor and gave us a Vanna White presentation of the rooms.  They were simple rooms.  At that moment the place was vacant.  The price was better than the bunk-bed dorm accommodation: 50DH per person, per night, for a private room.  The only bad thing was there was no hot water.  They had a hot water heater, but at the time it was out of service.  No biggie, though.  Over the last year or so cold bucket showers have been the norm so I went ahead and used my fine-tuned zen meditation techniques to get through the initial shock.  The place did not feel like a hotel at all.  It literally is Mohammed's pad as its name says.

The next day another PCV and I headed out around 8am.  The ladies at Chez Mohammed held on to a few items that we did not want to take along with us.  We were told to follow this one road and so we did for about 30 minutes until we realized that we were following the wrong river valley.  We walked back and then made a turn onto the east trail toward Amrend.  We followed an irrigation channel until we arrived back at the Ait Mizane Valley.  The east trail is a rockier and steeper climb than the wide-open west trail, but it is ten times cooler under all the trees.  Plus once you begin to emerge from the trees, you walk straight into the small mountain village of Amrend.

Upon reaching Amrend, we crossed the bridge to the west trail.  We stocked up on some more water and snacks.  The Rough Guide advises one to stock up in Imlil or Sidi Chamarouch, but I would only advise people carry what they need for the trek to the refuge and not worry about what they will drink at the refuge.  Granted, the refuge will charge you 15DH as compared to 6DH at Imlil for a bottle of Ain Soltane, but I would gladly pay the extra 9DH (just a little over a dollar) for the convenience.  Every 1.5 liter bottle is a little over 3 pounds.  When one is climbing for 4-6 hours straight, every little pound begins to feel heavier and heavier as one moves along.

Once we passed Amrend, we arrived at a huge dry river bed.  We followed a path that cut across the river bed and led one directly to a welcome sign from Morocco's Ministry of Water and Forests that announced the start of Toubkal National Park.  From there one begins a gradual ascent on the side of a mountain zig-zagging along some steep passages.

There were tons of people moving through the trail, both on the way up and down.  It wasn't just foreign tour groups, but also a good number of Moroccans who were making the pilgrimage to Sidi Chamarouch, a small village painted all in white resting right on a mountain ravine through which flowed to what I assume to be the Ait Mizane river .

One lady who was on her way down was touching different rocks on one side of the mountain trail and with every touch she would say "Allah" (God) to which her daughters following right behind would echo and touch as well.

Lots of mules were passing through with not just trail gear, but huge suitcases.  Apparently some foreigners decided to bring every piece of luggage with them--rather inconsiderate when most hotels and gites will gladly hold onto whatever one doesn't want to take along.  The porters who pulled or pushed the mules along the trail were bookin'.  We tried keeping up at first, but we quickly felt too out of breath to keep up.  The sun was also bearing down on us so I decided to slow it down and save my reserves for the steeper ascent that was to come.

The 2-3 hour trek to Sidi Chamarouch was a little exhausting because of the heat, but it wasn't to tough a climb.  The Rough Guide forewarned us that from Sidi Chamarouch and on, it would be like jumping on a StairMaster for the next three hours.

We picked up some more water for 8Dhs per bottle--only a 2-3 dhs difference from Imlil.  All the soda and water vendors had an interesting way of refrigerating their drinks.  They had all their drinks stacked on a wall with punctured water hoses up top spraying the cold mountain stream water onto them.  It worked not only as a fridge, but also as an AC unit.  The drinks were cold, and sitting next to that wall and feeling that cool mist on our faces was absolutely refreshing.  The soda's were a little expensive, about 10Dh each, which is still not much of a markup (3-4dhs).

After resting our feet a bit, we immediately began the steep climb past the village and onto the trail towards the mountain refuge.  The first half hour was pretty challenging as we zig-zagged up the face of the mountain.  After that rough passage, the StairMaster goes down to a medium grade as you climb gradually while heading south on the face of the mountain walking parallel to the river of the Ait Mizane Valley.

About three hours later following the white marks leading up to the refuge, we finally arrived at base camp.  There were two facilities available: a French Alpine Club refuge and another fancier spot called Refuge Toubkal Les Mouflons.  We checked out the French alpine site and it was packed to the brim with various European tour groups and it was smelly and the price was 90DH per bunk bed, per night.  Les Mouflons offered bunk bed accommodations as well, but it was cleaner, smelled better, less crowded, felt warmer, and the staff was nicer.  Price-wise it was only 30Dhs more, still a bargain in dollar terms and well worth it.

At the crack of dawn (7ish), we began our ascent to the summit.  We got a couple of hiking sticks to steady our journey.  The staffer that gave us the sticks told us to follow the red dots this time.  He pointed to some people that were already on the trail and at first glance I thought that these people must be hugging the mountain because it looked so steep, but then I looked behind them and saw that there was visible trail cut into the mountain.

My only advice to people on the ascent is to follow the red dots like your life depends on it because it literally does.  At one point in the trail, we went off on a bit of a tangent and found ourselves in somewhat of a precarious situation.  We got to an area where there was a number of big boulders and a lot of loose rock.  Because we lost track of the red dots, we got a little scare from a couple of slips we took and had to use our spidey skills stretching our legs and arms to find solid ground to push off from or to grab onto.

At one point during that brief rough stretch, I remembered the heroic moves of Sylvester Stallone on Cliffhanger and let out a grunt like he did as I pushed off from one rock and onto another.  Eventually we made it back to safety, hamdullah.  My heart was pounding so fast mainly because of nerves, but also because of the altitude change.  Lesson learned! From then on, I thought of of nothing but red dots.  

Both the view and the climb were breathtaking.  Every 15 minutes or after going through rough spots, I stopped, took in some deep breaths, and allowed my pounding heart to revert back to a normal rhythm.

In these much-needed pauses, I took in the scenery.

This being my first ever mountain climb, I was taken aback by the magnitude of the mountain ridges that criss-crossed one another, the jagged peaks, the barren terrain, the thorny bushes that somehow had eeked out a living in this hostile environment, the snow that still lingered in the crevices of the the mountains, and the clear blue sky.

As we reached the summit, the trail just got a little more slippery.  People that had already summited were slipping and sliding down the mountain some face first and not for fun either.  I made sure of every step, but with so much loose scree, it felt like you had to take three steps for one step of progress.

Reaching the summit was a glorious moment.  I heard the Chariots of Fire theme music in the background as I approached the summit in the slow motion baby-steps (sometimes in all fours) I was reduced to over the last half hour.  Upon arrival, the Hallelujah Chorus--a bit out of place in an Islamic country--also came on out of the blue.  

We chowed down some snacks, took some shots, and took in the crisp cool air of the mountain top.

At the summit, we were met by some Spaniards that we chatted with the day before at the refuge.  We also ran into a group of young Moroccans whom we had passed and that passed us throughout our ascent and who were part of an association from the Agadir region dedicated to doing recreational activities.  On one of the ledges of the summit, there was also a group of Moroccans who were playing some Bob Marley tunes on their cellphones, were waving a flag with Bob Marley's face on it, and smoking a little hashish to celebrate.  It was an interesting mix of people.

About an half hour later, we began our descent back to the refuge.  I tried not to follow the example of those individuals that were sliding face-first down the mountain; so instead I leaned back, tried to take some sure steps, and whenever necessary I'd crouch down and do a one foot slide or butt slide down the loose scree portions of the trail.  I followed the red dots like a horse with blinders.   About an hour or so later, we finally spotted the refuge.

My legs were already sore from the previous day's hike to the refuge.  Most of the PCVs we spoke to had summited and then descended all the way to Imlil on the same day.  Some took advantage of a porter who hauled their stuff.  Not being in any kind of a hurry, we decided to chill out another night at the refuge and start back first thing the next morning.  My legs were grateful.

The hike back definitely took less time and was less tiring.  We saw the sun rising over the mountains. Some shaggy goats grazing.   The weather was a lot nicer on the way back too.  We made it back to Imlil in about 4 hours and then took a grand taxi straight to Marrakech for only 30Dhs.

Although I couldn't climb to the top of the world mainly because the mountain is not in my PC host country, I can say that I got about half way there.  Mt. Everest stands at a modest 8,848 meters (29,029ft) while Mt. Toubkal stands at a remarkable 4,167m or 13,671ft.  It's a notable feat in my eyes.  A great journey and another site I can now cross off the list.

Trip Essentials

Transpo: According to the Spaniards we encountered, they took a grand taxi from the Marrakech Airport to Imlil for 300DH (This is the standard fare when one books a taxi as private transport).  Usually, that taxi driver has to stop at the gendarmerie (police station) to explain that he is going outside of his route and get permission.  The better option is to go to the grand taxi station near Jmma El Fnna and book an entire taxi paying the standard 30Dh per person if you don't mind sharing or paying six fares worth 30DH each (180DH total) to book the entire taxi to Imlil.   If you don't mind taking in some more scenery and are in no rush, take the route I took from Marrakech to Tahanout by city bus (7DH) from the Sidi Mimoun city bus stop also near Jmma El Fnna, then hopping on a grand taxi or semi-truck from Tahanout to Asni (7DH), and then finally getting on another grand taxi from Asni to Imlil (8DH).

Accommodations:  Despite the cold shower, I still recommend Chez Mohammed for Imlil.  They have a number of rooms and a large living room with lots of ponges that could accommodate large groups.  They also offered to cook us a tagine for 50DH, which is about the same price we paid at the village's terrace restaurant.  It doesn't feel like you're in a hotel at all, but more like someone's home.  The surrounding area is quiet and away from the village traffic.  At 50DH per person, it's a great value.  Phone: 0524-48-56-16.  If you decide to go there, when you get there ask the locals about the school.  Mohammed's pad is 200 meters up the road from there.

At base camp, the Refuge Toubkal Les Mouflons was a great spot not only to rest, but to meet other hikers.  They have all inclusive packages that include meals.  We just paid for the bunk bed and ordered a tagine for one of the nights, which cost us 100Dh.  The bunk bed cost 120Dh per night.  The showers had hot water, but only one person could be showering at a time.  Staff was friendly and their hanut was well stocked with water and all sorts of snacks.  We didn't make reservations, but if I were to do it again, I would.  Large tour groups can arrive and take over entire rooms.

Gear: Ascending during the summer is a whole lot easier than winter.  No gear is necessary other than just a fine pair of hiking shoes with good traction, a couple of layers of clothing, and a windbreaker/rain jacket.  There's a lot of loose scree from the refuge to the summit so a couple of sturdy hiking sticks can certainly help in balancing and also to push and pull your way up the mountain.  The refuge loaned the sticks for 50DH each, which I thought was kind of steep.

Guides: In the summer, I don't think there is a need.  One can easily follow the white marks, which begin from Amrend all the way up to the refuge.  To the ascent, the red dots clearly mark the path one should take.  The winter is a different ballgame.  Because of snow, one may need to take alternate routes to the refuge or to summit that may not be clearly marked or as easy to follow.

Here are a few other links on Mt.Toubkal for your reading pleasure:

So supposedly there's going to be an ultra-marathonesque event around Toubkal in September 2010.  On my way down from the summit, I think I saw someone training for it.  As I took baby-steps down the slope supporting myself with my trusty hiking stick, there was this one guy in short shorts with a water bottle in hand who was literally sprinting down the mountain hopping, skipping, and just bouncing off the boulders like a street acrobat. Check it out: http://www.toubkalchallenge.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toubkal

Camp GLOW Morocco 2010 Update

Camp GLOW is ON in full force once again for the 4th time since its inception in 2006 adding as we say in Spanish "leña al fuego", wood to the fire, and that fire is the motivation and desire that many young women across Morocco have to gain some economic independence and have more control over their future.

I don't think I mentioned in my previous entries about Camp GLOW about my personal motivation to see the camp succeed.  Part of my impetus comes from personal experience growing up among some very strong and powerful women who happen to be in my immediate family and happened to be living in the developing world.  Shortly after I was born, my father at the young age of 23 with a recently acquired university degree in electrical engineering passed away unexpectedly leaving my mother with me and my three-year-old sister in a foreign country with a foreign language and culture.  My mother suddenly had to provide somehow.  The situation thrusted her out into what was uncharted territory for her.  With the help of church friends, she went on to get her GED and to get a vocational certification in secretarial administration.  With my mother's visa about to expire, we had no choice but to move back to Venezuela where the going got even tougher, but thankfully family was there to offer support. In the machismo-permeated work environment characteristic of many Latin American countries, my mother had to fight even more for work and for the respect of her male bosses.  Another powerful woman was my Aunt Sara who worked extremely hard to get her degree in elementary education, to secure a public school position, and to save money to purchase a home that we all shared.  Both my aunt and my mother owe their strength to my grandmother who taught herself how to read and took on whatever menial job was available to put food on the table for her daughters and for extended family.

In order to get the family through the rough patches, these women had to be entrepreneurial, bold, audacious, resourceful, and innovative.  Being witness to how much these women were able to accomplish in a machismo environment in a developing country, I know that if women can just get the information, the knowledge, the skills, and the support from mentors, they can create the life they wish to live for themselves and for their families.  Also, given life's unpredictability, I believe this knowledge, skills, resourcefulness, and entrepreneurial attitude is not something that these women should gain and develop as a hobby but as a vocation.

Camp GLOW 2010 took over 40 young women from rural villages and small cities from the Middle Atlas Mountains and tried to instill the entrepreneurial spirit and to provide the know-how.  The camp took place from July 25-31 at Mohammedia.  I went to visit on the third day of the camp to chat with Mrs. Amina Yabis, my counterpart and principal organizer, take some shots, and to check-in with the PCVs.  PCV Marian and Rachel were present at the camp serving as camp counselors.  Marian wrote a number of summaries on our Facebook Cause that I'd like to share with you:

Camp GLOW Morocco-Days 1 and 2

After a two-day training of facilitators for Camp GLOW, 45 young women arrived in Sefrou yesterday morning. They piled in the bus rented for the camp and we pulled out of the parking lot. Amina, the lead facilitator popped a CD of Berber music and the fun began. The girls sang along, clapped and soon were in the aisles belly-dancing and shaking it without reservations. Wow, what a great start, no need for an icebreaker! The exuberant singing and dancing held out the entire five-hours to Mohammedia. After arriving at our campsite, everyone had a good night sleep.

This morning began with group exercise on the beach, and after breakfast we began our first session. The campers were split up into four groups and assigned to a facilitator who lead a discussion on attitudes about personality, gender and cultural differences. When the time came for the young ladies to partake in the discussion, they seemed unrecognizable from the group on the bus the day before. It took awhile to get warmed up and encourage some of the more introverted females to participate in the activity. 

As the day went on, the campers began to acclimate to their new environment and roommates. Some of the young women from rural villages had spent their first night away from their family the night before and all were new to guided discussions in which they were invited to share their thoughts, ideas and opinions. After lunch everyone took advantage of the sunny weather and spent a few hours on the beach. The thrill of seeing the ocean (many for the first time ever!) and playing in the waves was a fantastic way to wear down the guardedness inhibiting some of the GLOW Campers; for the first time since the beginning of camp the separate villages began to intermingle. 

After an afternoon session, the evening willl be spent in the dining hall for a dance party that will hopefully rival yesterday's bus ride.

Camp GLOW: Day 3

Women's Empowerment: 5 Steps to Success

GLOW Camp Day 3 started off with a sleepy breakfast following a dancing soiree in the dining hall. The campers perked up when Amina, the lead facilitator lead an energetic discussion about her experience starting and building the Cherry Buttons Cooperative of Sefrou. Her success as an artisan entrepreneur has become known all over Morocco and her cooperative is very active in providing mentorship and training to young women from the region. Amina explained the process of developing an idea into a plan and the process of starting and completing a project, as well as some of the challenges and opportunities she encountered while developing the cooperative selling jellaba buttons.

As Amina concluded her talk, the next speaker arrived from Rabat. Ilham Zhiri, president of the Association of Entrepreneurship for Moroccan Women arrived and led a lively, informative and inspiring discussion. After describing her educational background, challenges and career path towards becoming the Association's president, she outlined the five components that she believed had been crucial components to her success. These steps to success Ilham described are:

1. Self-confidence

2. Self-reliance

3. Positive attitude

4. A solution-oriented mind

5. Self-improvement

As she identified each step she applied each of them to one of more of the challenges faced by women in Morocco. The young women identified some of their own personal challenges and were very curious about specific ways she was able to use these steps to persevere, little by little. Ilham also shared information about Association of Entrepreneurship for Moroccan Women's mentorship program for young women and shared the Association's local and regional contact information. 

One camper, Fatima lives in a very small Berber village called Immouzer Marmoucha with few, if any business opportunities for women. Like many rural women, she comes from a family of skilled weavers. Towards the conclusion of the presentation, Fatima slipped off to her room and returned with three beautifully hand-woven traditional Berber pillows. She presented them to Ilham and described her goal of selling them in the city nearest to her hometown. It was a truly inspirational moment for both the camp facilitators and the participants. 

The young women walked to lunch glowing with encouragement and inspiration. Three of the ladies from my own site asked me to help them with their projects once they had returned from camp- What a great day!!

For many of the camp participants, it was the first time they had met a highly successful Moroccan woman, and for others the first time they had been told that developing self-confidence is an important part of achieving one's goals. 

Girls Leading Our World! Thank you Ilham, Amina, the Association of Entrepreneurship for Moroccan Women and the Cherry Buttons Cooperative!

Camp GLOW: Day 4 

Well, here we are already halfway through Camp GLOW! What a wonderful three days it has been getting to know the forty-four young women who have been working hard this week. 

This morning Camp GLOW was all about business. As a follow-up to the session led by Amina yesterday about building and developing a business, the campers spent the morning brainstorming business ideas in small groups and writing a business plan. Towards the conclusion of the morning session, each group presented their business plan and answered questions from staff and participants about the specifics of their ideas. The presentations were quite impressive and thorough; even more impressive were the creative ideas of each group. The project ideas included: a milk cooperative, patisserie, beauty salon specializing in weddings, cultural guesthouse, and an olive cooperative. 

Following lunch and an hour of swimming, the participants re-grouped for a presentation by an advocate of the newly passed Mudawana or Family Law of Morocco. Passed in 2005 by King Mohammed VI, the law grants women more rights within marriage and takes steps towards abolishing the patriarchal family. Some of the important changes mandated by the law include:

- The legal obligation to obtain a divorce from a secular court (vs. a letter from a religious official) 

- The parent who keeps custody of the children also keeps the house. 

- The legal age of marriage is 18 instead of 15. 

- Sexual harassment is an offense punished by law. 

- Polygamy, while still allowed, became more difficult under the new Mudawana in 2003

The advocate fielded questions from the participants and provided information on the remaining challenges within Morocco's legal system that may inhibit the enforcement of the code. These challenges, she said, are especially present in rural regions. Despite Mudawana's limitations, the participants will be able to take their knowledge of the new Family Law back to their hometowns, perhaps further empowering the women with knowledge about their legal entitlements.

In all, the camp had five full days of activities.  A range of subjects were covered dealing with health and hygiene, women's rights, and environmental stewardship, but the main focus was on entrepreneurship.  With the help of the U.S. Embassy staff who provided the organizing NGO, the Golden Buttons Association, with a number of special speakers comprising of some remarkable women business owners and high-ranking public servants, the young girls heard personal accounts of the challenges those women overcame and their keys to success.  The brainstorming of business ideas was led by Mrs. Amina Yabis, my counterpart, who just three days prior to the camp beginning had arrived from the U.S. after attending for the second consecutive time the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market.  Although I was not at the event to see her speak, I am sure she spoke frankly as I've seen her do in many instances about the need for women to seek more than what has been planned for them, to continue to learn, to get the recognition for their work, and to give back to those in need.

Camp GLOW is due to continue on through the fall and spring.  Because of a large grant the association received from the U.S. Embassy to cover the main summer camp, all the individual donations sent to the High Atlas Foundation totaling close to $1,200 will be used to hold 2-3 follow-up events in the Middle Atlas region.  We are hoping that we can leverage those funds with funding from municipalities, Peace Corps funding opportunities, or from other NGOs to be able to invite a large number of women.  A number of young ladies dropped out at the last second or were not allowed to leave their villages for whatever reason so we hope that with the excess funds, we will be able to take Camp GLOW to them.

I want to thank everyone who read my blog and donated to Camp GLOW.  I only posted a few of the pictures.  My counterpart and the PCVs took a whole lot more and will likely post them soon.  I will update the web album posted on the Cherry Buttons Coop site as soon as they are made available.  More information regarding the follow-up events will be forthcoming.  Congrats to all! Way to go GLOW!

Lunch with the Ambassador

It's not everyday you get to chill out with the high-ups in our government and much less in an informal setting, but just recently I got the chance to do that.  I can't explain exactly how it all came about.  It could have been that through my email blasting, which I've been doing over the last month, that word got around about my counterpart's trip to the U.S. to participate in the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market and at the opening of an exhibition titled Empowering Women hosted by the Museum of International Folk Art.  Another possibility was a referral from a dear friend of the Cherry Buttons Cooperative, Dr. Susan Schaeffer Davis, who not too long ago brought a delegation of U.S. Americans to Morocco and took them on a tour of events, some of which were attended by embassy staff and perhaps even the ambassador's wife.  Dr. Davis was one of the victims of my email blast to which she responded and said that she had recommended that the embassy staff meet my counterpart, Amina Yabis, if they were ever in the Fez region.

I got a call from Peace Corps staff alerting me of the ambassador's visit a couple of days prior to the expected arrival date, and then shortly after that phone call, embassy staff contacted me.  I was given a date, but few specifics: only that the ambassador's wife wanted to meet Amina and that they were aware that a Peace Corps volunteer was in the neighborhood so they also asked that I be present.  I was told not to contact security personnel as they would be responsible for doing so.  I relayed the information to my counterpart, but I forgot to tell her not to call any security personnel.

The day before their arrival, embassy security called me to give me an approximate time of when they would be there and to settle on a meeting point.  At the time, Sefrou was in full Cherry Festival mode.  The streets were decorated, there was a lot of foot traffic, music playing on different stages throughout the city, fantasia was on exhibit in the evenings, and expo tents were set up all over town, but the visit was not to partake of the festivities.  We decided we would meet at the artisana tent expo where Amina would be present with her cooperative ladies.

The following day there was a bit of drama.  Amina had told the Pasha, the equivalent of the security chief of the region, about the ambassador's visit and that he and his family may possibly dine in her home.  Amina said the Pasha did not take too well to the late notice and rebuked Amina for it.  At the artisana expo, local security personnel from either the police or other services approached Amina for more details, but she had none to give.  She told them to speak to me and I told them exactly what I had told Amina.  They wanted an itinerary that I simply didn't have.  When they realized that we were in the dark as much as they were, they cooled off and later on apologized to Amina.

As soon as the drama subsided, the black Suburbans arrived.  Amina and I went over to meet Ambassador Kaplan and his wife as they exited their vehicle.  On another suburban, members of the ambassador's family got out and we greeted them all.  A couple of volunteers who were planning to meet with Amina for Camp GLOW business came over to the tent and also greeted the ambassador and his family.  The ambassador's wife went over to Amina's booth, greeted the coop ladies and apprentices, and her family got to buying the coop's famous button necklaces and bracelets.

In conversation with security personnel, we determined that Amina would indeed host the ambassador and his family at her home for lunch.  As soon as we decided, Amina took off to get things prepared.

In the meantime, the ambassador and his family took a lap around the artisana expo with only the entourage of the security personnel.  The ambassador's visit was quite a contrast to the visit from the Minister of Artisana who had come through Sefrou only a few months back.  The entourage that followed that man was a good 50 meters long of what we PCV's call The Suits.  When the minister came to the artisana, all the artisans, members of the chamber of artisana, apprentices, and even myself formed a line for the minister to shake our hands.  Security personnel were out in full force with multiple vans shadowing the glossy, black Mercedes Benz-- the typical transport for government officials.  It was just a lot of pomp and circumstance everywhere.

I was happy that the political entourage was not there.  After all, this was not an official visit.  He did not come to make a proclamation or to shake hands with the political hierarchy; the ambassador and his family were here as your everyday tourist.

Next on the agenda was a visit to the Jewish cemetery in Sefrou.  I was about to say goodbye and to tell them that I would meet them at Amina's, but they urged me to come along.  I was honored to be accompanying the ambassador and his family, but more importantly I was psyched about the ride in the Suburbans.  For all my criticism of entourages, I was now part of one and I got to say that it did feel pretty cool.  The cemetery attendant greeted everyone with a "shalom" and then he began to blurt out some rapid-fire Moroccan Arabic that I could not understand nor could begin to translate.  Apparently, he thought that I was the tour guide for the group--not the first time this has happened.   The security personnel went over to the gentleman and explained that I was not Moroccan, but American, and that I was still learning.

The ambassador pointed to a grave that he said spelled out his first name Samuel in Hebrew.  The attendant led the group around the cemetery and pointed to graves where the remains had been removed and transported to Israel.  The ambassador said something to the effect that he had read that Sefrou had more of these empty graves than any other Jewish cemetery in Morocco.  In my nearly two years in Sefrou, this was my first time there.  It was interesting to see Hebrew written everywhere and to think that only 50 or so years ago Sefrou had a thriving Jewish population that lived in relative harmony with the Amazight and Arab population.

After the tour of the cemetery, we headed to Amina's home.  Once again I got to ride in the Suburban (it was cool the second time around as well).  Amina greeted the ambassador at the door beaming as she said in her limited English, "Welcome, welcome, welcome, and thank you, thank you, thank you."  We all sat down in Amina's living room and began to chat it up.  RPCV Gregg Johnson was there.  Amina's younger sister and her family were also there.  The ambassador and his family sat in one room while the security personnel sat in another not because there was not enough room, but because it was World Cup season and the other room had the TV tuned to the Paraguay vs. Slovakia match.

The ambassador and his family sat huddled towards one side of the room with the typical octagonal Moroccan table in the middle.  First, Amina's husband walked around with a water kettle and had everyone wash their hands.  Then, Amina began to bring out the food.  She did not do anything outside of what she normally does when she has guests visiting.   She served up the usual garnishes: small saucers of chopped tomato and cucumber, some saffron seasoned rice, some spicy tomato sauce, and a variety of olives.  She brought out the silverware in a tray that we passed around until everyone had one.  She also passed around a basket of bread.  Then, came the family platter of two oven-baked chickens with crunchy fries on top and a thick lemon sauce and green olives at the base--a classic Moroccan dish and one of my all-time favorites.  Not having individual plates to eat from, the ambassador's daughter asked, "So how do we do this?"

I proceeded with my vast knowledge of Moroccan table etiquette to explain how the bread serves as the fork or in essence kind of like a glove for one to dip and grab whatever is in one's real estate or food that is directly in front of you.  Gregg provided some cultural commentary on the tradition by explaining how eating in close proximity to each other and from the same platter was part of the community lifestyle that is exhibited in Moroccan society and how it serves to reinforce family bonds.  However, even with my exemplary demonstration on how to eat Moroccan style or the commentary, everyone went for the forks and went straight for the chicken.  Even though I am a big Moroccan bread fan, I'd much rather eat the meat without bread so I joined them fork in hand in prying the meat from chicken.  After getting our fill of all the garnishes and the chicken, Amina followed it with a platter of watermelon and big, fat Sefrouian cherries.

It was cool to see the ambassador and his family in an informal setting: his family kidding with him calling him "His Excellency" and his youngest grand-child taking bites out of the cherries and spraying everyone around with cherry juice.  It was great to see the ambassador almost eating Moroccan style.  I gave him a break.  It took me a while to replace the fork with bread.

He was happy to see that his security staff also got fed.  He mentioned that in some cases his security staff are not invited to eat.  Amina said that there was no way she would let those men go hungry.  The ambassador was extremely grateful for the food and the company, gave me and Amina his business card, and then we all posed for photos.

We walked the ambassador and his family back to their Suburbans.  I stayed behind with Amina and waved to them as they departed.  Amina was still overjoyed.  She still could not believe that  the Ambassador of the U.S. to the Kingdom of Morocco had dined in her home.  I was happy for her, but I was even more happy for the ambassador and his family who I believe got a different taste of Morocco here in Sefrou.  It was an exciting moment for me.  It was a pleasure to tag along with the ambassador and his family for a bit, being part of the entourage and riding in the Suburbans was a highlight, chowing down some Moroccan grub in typical Moroccan fashion, and just relaxing and shooting the breeze with him and his family.  It was a fine and memorable day in the life of another Peace Corps volunteer.

The Shamal Series: Journey to the Center of the Earth through The Grotte Friouato

Last Halloween weekend a few volunteers gathered to celebrate as best as we could one of our most endeared pagan holidays. We weren't able to go trick-or-treating or to wear any of our superhero costumes; so, our host, Steven, suggested we just do scary stuff the entire weekend.  He suggested we check out a cave near Taza that all the Tazies talk about and then catch a horror flick in the evening.

I headed out to meet everyone late Friday night. We had dinner at a nice restaurant in the heart of Taza's ville nouvelle.  I got myself a tuna pizza that was nice and crispy with plenty of marinara sauce and cheese to complement the tuna. Shortly thereafter, we took a brief walk around town. The Taza medina (old city) is quite stunning with its medieval fortress walls illuminated at night and sitting atop a towering plateau overlooking the sprawling ville nouvelle (french for new city).

In the morning we took a petit-taxi past the ville nouvelle, onto the Taza medina plateau, around the medina arriving at a taxi stand where a number of tan station wagons waited for passengers. We met up with Aziz, an employee of Morocco's Ministry of Water and Forests who also serves as a counterpart for a number of Peace Corps volunteers in the region. We also ran into a couple of tourists, one American and another from the Czech Republic, who were looking to go to the cave, but were waiting for others to fill the taxi. The two young ladies were doing an internship at a veterinary clinic in Fez.  So once we were all together, Aziz bargained with the taxi drivers for a bit and then we were on our way to the Grotte Friouato.

After a 30-minute uphill journey zig-zagging through some beautiful, dense forest passages of pine trees and rocky terrains dotted with stone-stack houses and tiered farming on the sides of the mountains, you come to a wide, open expanse that supposedly is a rain-season lake where winter grains are grown in abundance. We arrived at the base of the Grotte Friouato, checked in with the reception desk, paid 35DH for a flashlight and for the tour, and then made our way to the entrance of the cave.

Not having read anything about the cave, I didn't know what to expect. My only point of reference for this expedition were pictures of the Ozark Caverns in Missouri that I had seen on billboards on I-44 when my family would make the trek from Oklahoma to Pennsylvania for our annual church convention. In those billboards, there was always a little kid pointing to some really cool rock formations as the entire family looked on in utter amazement. The brochures I would pick up from various rest stops also photoshoped the same shot of the kid with his family on a background of wide passageways with railings and lighting that accentuated the rock formations and the many cave pools.  The publicity also showed what looked like a golf cart in one of the shots, and the tour guide and tour group were all equipped with a hard-hat. I wasn't expecting a replica of the brochures here, but when I heard that a number of tourists frequent the cave every year, I figured that those managing the site and the tours were taking precautions to ensure that tourists keep spreading the word.

Aziz accompanied us to the reception and then walked us over to the entrance of the cave upon which he said goodbye to us and wished us good luck. When asked why he wasn't accompanying us, he smiled and said, "Oh no, not me." We entered the cave to a warm stream of air that seemed to be channeling through the entrance. We began our descent to the cave. For the first couple of hundred steps, there was railing available, but then as we reached a more gradual grade, no railing was around and it could have been useful given the uneven and worn concrete steps.

 It was interesting to experience the change of temperature as we descended. It was as if two masses of warm and cool air were sitting idly in the cave, and once you stepped into the cold, you only felt the cold. It wasn't too chilly, but just enough for a fleece.

We took a brief break at the base of the cave, which was actually the entrance to what would be our journey to the center of the earth.  I was already feeling my knees shaking a bit after the 500 or so steps we hiked down.  Then, our guide said, "mn deba l-foq, triq saib swiya" (from here on, the way is a little difficult) and he wasn't kidding.

The entrance to the cave was one of the most challenging parts of the journey.  It was literally a tunnel that you had to squirm, twist, and turn in awkward ways trusting the person in front of you to place your feet on the next step as the view was obstructed by the narrowness of the tunnel and because you could only descend face down meanwhile attempting to retain some balance by grabbing onto the muddy walls.

It was a wake-up call because it made me realize that should anyone twist an ankle, injure their tail-bone or back, or suffer any other accident, there would be no way to get anyone out.  This was just one of the many points during the hike where we looked to the guide and to each other in dismay and wondered if it could get any worse.

We kept descending down some more steps onto some amazing rock formations.  There was sparkle everywhere.  Who on earth had come here and sprayed sparkle all over these rocks?

Brown and white rock icicle-like formations with water drops at their tips, boulders with coral-like surfaces, and undulated cave walls that resembled my mother's vanilla or chocolate icing on the many a birthday cakes she made for me were all part of the amazing show we were witnessing as we descended further and further down into the cave.

Without any sort of markers along the way, we were completely reliant on our guide.  When I entered the cave, I thought how would we be able to get people out if we injured ourselves.  As we kept going down I thought, how the heck would we get back, God forbid, anything should happen to our guide, and the chances of injury weren't unlikely.  The cave floor and the walls we used for support were muddy and very slippery. There was no light in the cave save our flashlights, no railing anywhere to be seen, and for sure no way to communicate with anyone on the surface.  Fortunately, our guide was fearless.

He led us through the nooks and cranies of the cave with ease, lighting passageways, and cautioning us to thalla f rask, which generally means to take care of yourself, but in this particular instance, he meant each word literally: thalla is the transliteration for the verb to take care; the "f" sound is the preposition that follows the verb; ras is the word for head, and the "k" sound attached to the word adds the possession "your".  After banging my head a couple of times through the tunnels, I began to understand why those silly-looking hard-hats were on the brochure and made me wish I had one.

Later on with tired knees, we reached what I deemed to be the Bridge of No Return.  It was a 2x6 wooden plank placed over a deep crevice that you could not see the bottom to, and to make matters worse, the plank was not bolted or holstered.  Our fearless guide walked through it so easily I believe he could have performed several scissor kicks and back flips without a glitch.  Then came Steven, he looked at it and looked back at the group and could only laugh.  I was genuinely freaked out.  My knees were already trembling a bit with every step, and now I faced this wobbly plank.  I took a deep breath and took baby-steps to the other side.  We all made it safely, hamdullah (thanks be to God).

After we crossed the bridge, we came upon a number of shallow cave pools that at the time were a little empty.  To cross each pool, we would walk around the narrow fringes of it and we encountered more wobbly planks, but it was not as terrifying because we could at least see where we would fall.

We finally reached the end of our downhill hike to the center of the earth.  We had descended nearly 2 kilometers.  Surprisingly, there was railing at the end of the hike signaling that this was the furthest one should go, but technically the cave goes down even further and I believe they have yet to reach its bottom as of yet.  We turned off our flashlights for a bit to experience the pitch-black darkness and silence that surrounded us.  It was one of those overwhelming moments that your mind has a hard time grasping.

We thought at first that it would be a difficult uphill climb, but it turned out to be a much easier trek.  We tip-toed across the cave pools, took our time crossing the Bridge of No Return, powered through the steep inclines, and snaked up through to the cave entrance until we saw the reassuring light at the end of the tunnel.  We took another deep breath and marveled at our feat.  I walked over to the guide and asked him how many times he has gone all the way down and he said that he did it at least twice a day in high season.  Anyhow, I still felt that I had accomplished something.  Now at the entrance to the cave, I felt that should I injure myself that I would have a chance of surviving.

Finally, to celebrate our journey to the center to the earth and back, fittingly we took ghetto-esque shots and then climbed to the top of the mountain for some sun salutations.

Right next to the cave's main entrance, there was a balcony cafe that we crashed for a bit.  The park staff served us the classic sweet-as-molasses mint tea and then we busted out some bread and tuna.  After getting our fill, we took a brief ride to Bab Boudir, another forest preserve where the East and Middle Atlas Mountains converge.

Our taxi took us back to Taza where we parted ways with the two veterinary students.  I headed back to Steven's spot with the other volunteers where we proceeded to cook some dinner and carve a pumpkin. To cap the night, we watched an old Halloween classic: The Exorcist.  It was a good ending to our more than scary perhaps reaching the level of terrifying Halloween weekend.

To learn more about Taza and the Grotte Friouato, please visit this link:

http://www.morocco.com/blog/taza-and-gouffre-du-friouato

Photos are a compilation of PCV shots and those of our veterinary friends. 

The Cherry Buttons Coop of Sefrou, Morocco, Is One of Ten Coops To Be Showcased at The Museum of International Folk Art

The Museum of International Folk Art just posted a news release listing the ten cooperatives that will be part of the upcoming exhibition titled Empowering Women: Artisan Cooperatives That Transform Communities. The Cherry Buttons Cooperative of Sefrou, Morocco, is honored to be part of a remarkable group of cooperatives that are making a difference in their respective communities. Amina Yabis, the cooperative's president, said that she is looking forward to sharing her story and learning from others.

Amina's desire to learn was one of the main reasons why I decided to work with her coop.  When other associations or cooperatives approached me for money or equipment, she asked me to help her improve the marketing of her coop.  She felt that new ideas and new connections would be worth more than any grant I could bring.  She is well aware of the Peace Corps goals, which are more about providing new ideas and technical training rather than hard dollars.

The first volunteer Amina worked with back in 2000 provided organizational development assistance that helped her association and cooperative take root.  Another volunteer came shortly thereafter and helped her streamline her production and diversify her product line.  Later, a group of volunteers from the region pitched an idea of a young girl's empowerment camp and Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) was born.

When I arrived nearly two years ago with my broken Arabic and unsure as to what I would do or who I would be working with, Amina welcomed me to her home, introduced me to her family, friends, coop members, and invited me to her home numerous times for some hearty home-cooked meals.   She made me feel at ease and her family made me feel as another member of the family.  Also, it did not matter that my attempts at Arabic sounded like gibberish.  If we needed to speak in a mishmash of French and Arabic, then that's what we would do.  Communication was the goal whether it was verbally or non-verbally.  That's the true essence of what we Peace Corps volunteers call a sympathetic interlocutor.

Over the last year, we set out to improve the marketing of her coop.  We set up a website/blog prior to her trip to the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market (SFIFAM) last year, http://cherrybuttonscoop.wordpress.com.  Some of my friends from the U.S. and Europe traveling through Morocco as well as other PCVs passing through Morocco´s shamal (north) came to take professional photographs of her products and her coop.  Fouzia Chkar, a superb translator by trade, worked with me to produce the French language version of the coop' website, http://boutonsdecerises.wordpress.com.  We engaged in a number of product development exchanges with U.S. textile vendors that have not panned out as of yet, but have taught us a great deal about what other markets are seeking and what we need to do before proceeding with any major exporting opportunity.  A product catalogue is in the works.  I will also begin training a few cooperative members on the basics of digital photography, Wordpress web development, customer service, and marketing.  Inchallah (God willing), before I take off late this year and hand over projects to the next volunteer, the cooperative will be able to launch their catalogue, maintain it and update it, post updates on the blog section of their site, and begin to generate domestic as well as international sales.

This invitation to the museum exhibition is a testament to the hard work of Amina Yabis and the ladies of the cooperative.  It all began with an idea to bring equity to the marketplace for the women of the Sefrou region.  The women were the primary producers of a fine handicraft, but middlemen rather than the women were the primary beneficiaries.  In just over ten years, it has opened many doors of opportunity for many women who have come to her cooperative to learn to weave on a variety of looms, to dye wool, and have benefited from the exchange of ideas in other Peace Corps and NGO-sponsored workshops.  With the skills and a renewed sense of confidence, Amina and several coop members have ventured out of the home and traveled hundreds of miles to major craft fairs in Marrakesh, Casablanca, and Fez.  Today, the coop is considered a model women's cooperative in Morocco and is showcased as such by the Regional Delegation of Artisana of Sefrou.

I want to thank the many volunteers, foundations, government and non-governmental organizations, individual donors, and the amazing staff of the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market and the Museum of International Folk Art that have given so much of their time and resources to create these amazing opportunities.  A big thanks to Dr. Suzanne Seriff for her patience in working with Amina and me and for her dedication to the project.  Thanks to all.

Please take a moment to read through the museum's latest release for more information on the extraordinary stories that will be told at the museum's exhibition opening.

Museum of International Folk Art

The ten women's cooperatives in the exhibition

EMPOWERING WOMEN: ARTISAN COOPERATIVES THAT TRANSFORM COMMUNITIES

(Santa Fe, NM, June 11, 2010)-Ten women's artisan cooperatives will be represented in the Museum of International Folk Art's Gallery of Conscience inaugural exhibition, Empowering Women. These co-ops are from Swaziland, South Africa, Nepal, Lao PDR, India, Peru, Bolivia, Morocco, Kenya, and Rwanda. You may read more about the exhibition here.

Swaziland: Phez'kwemkhono Bomake-Ncheka Cooperative

Today more than 50 local women work in the cooperative making baskets to earn money for their families and to provide support for the community's many AIDS orphans. Their earnings have transformed the lives of hundreds of AIDS orphans funding education, clothing, a soup kitchen, medicine, home-base care for the bedridden, and hospital services.

South Africa: Mapula Embroidery Project

With embroidery members of this collective call attention to the joys and hardships of their homeland. Scenes range from the nostalgic depicting animals and village life to current issues such as crime, AIDS, unemployment, to alcohol addiction. Maria Rengane, founder of the Mapula (Mother of Rain) Embroidery Project said; "I would like to spend all of the years of my life helping communities do things like this project for themselves. This is how you build a strong successful nation."

Nepal: Janakpur Women's Development Center

The women of the Mhathili culture were renowned for painting designs on the mud walls of their village homes for weddings, festivals, and other special occasions. When Claire Burkett, a New England college graduate arrived in the Nepalese lowlands in 1989, she thought if the women painted their beautiful, spontaneous images onto handmade paper, they could be sold to an outside market, and increase their socio-economic status. Today, more than forty women travel daily to the Janakpur Center, a huge step for women who were not allowed to leave their homes.

Lao PDR: OckPopTok

Ten years ago this coop was founded by a London fashion photographer and the daughter of a master weaver from the Mekong region of Lao Peoples Democratic Republic. OckPopTok means "East Meets West." OckPopTok has grown from a one-room weaving studio for local weavers to an internationally recognized heritage destination, gallery, retreat center and women's weaving collaborative for more than 200 artisans in three provinces and seven villages. This cooperative is as likely to sell wall hangings inspired by Mark Rothko as the traditional skirts woven with Laotian motifs.

India: Self-Employed Women's Association Trade Facilitation Center

SEWA includes more than 3,500 artisan shareholders in 80 villages in India's western state of Gujarat. The women - all skilled home-based embroidery and textile artisans - are the producers, managers, and owners of their collective livelihood. The women run every phase of the business and their success has translated into building a legacy of respect where previously they were known either by their father's or husband's name and are now known by their given name - part of the tradition these women want to pass on for their daughters.

Peru: Centro de Textiles Tradicionales del Cusco

Hand-woven textiles in the Peruvian Andes are an important social and ethnic marker and a significant part of the cultural heritage of the region. Nilda Callanaupa, granddaughter of a master weaver who herself was weaving by age seven, founded this coop in 2005 to preserve traditions that were dying out. Today the CTTC is in nine regions of Peru, each supporting its own cooperative structure and a state-of-the-art museum of Andean textiles and a weaving training center, the CTTC in Cusco has become a destination for tourists and community members alike.

Bolivia: Cheque Oitedie Cooperative

The 45 women in this cooperative plant and harvest the bromeliad and produce and market hand-woven and dyed fiber bags to an international market. The group's sales amount to more than 60% of the total community income and now they manage a collective bank account for the first time.

Morocco: Women's Button Cooperative of Sefrou

Amina Yabis, a typical Moroccan Muslim housewife and mother of four boys ran unsuccessfully for public office in 1997. This left her with a clear realization: women needed first to have access to the cash economy to be successful in public life. Over the next few years Amina organized more than 400 women from her province into a craft association called Golden Buttons. Economic success led to the formation in 2000 of the Women's Button Cooperative of Sefrou, a for-profit cooperative that was the first of its kind organized by women. The cooperative has ventured into other crafts and training programs to expand opportunities for Moroccan women for successful engagement in public life.

Kenya: Umoja Uaso Women's Group

The beginning of the Umoja Uaso Women's Group in Kenya was not about art. It was about survival. Rebecca Lolosoli and 16 other home-less women founded the village of Umoja Uaso in 1990 as a refuge fro Samburu women who ere victims of rape, beatings, forced marriage, genital cutting, and other violent domestic crimes. Umoja, which means "unity" is now a safe have for women and girls fleeing abuse. The women of Umoja sell their tribe's elaborately beaded jewelry and crafts, both traditional and contemporary, to provide for themselves and their children. They have established a sickness and disability fund, a community center, and a school for their children.

Rwanda: Gahaya Links Cooperative

In 100 days of explosive ethnic violence in 1994, Rwandan Hutus murdered some one million Tutsis and moderate Hutus, leving hundreds of thousands of widows and orphans. Ephigenia Mukantabana lost 65 family members but has forgiven her family's killer and now works side-by-side the imprisoned man's wife as fellow members of a basket-weaving cooperative. Beginning with 20 women the company has now grown to a network of more than 4,000 weavers across the country, organized into 52 cooperatives. Ephigenia credits teaching her art to both Hutus and Tutsis as the balm that restored her shattered life. She says; "Art heals the hopeless soul. Weaving is hope for tomorrow."

Media Contacts

Suzanne Seriff, Ph.D
Sr. Lecturer, Dept. of Anthropology,
University of Texas at Austin
Guest Curator, "Empowering Women: Artisan Cooperatives that Transform Communities"
seriff@aol.com
512 459-3990

Steve Cantrell, PR Manager

505-476-1144

505-310-3539 - cell

steve.cantrell@state.nm.us

steve.cantrell@state.nm.us

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The Museum of International Folk Art houses the world's largest collection of international folk art, with the ongoing exhibition Multiple Visions: A Common Bond in the Girard Wing. Changing and traveling exhibitions are offered in the Bartlett Wing and exhibitions highlighting textiles are featured the Neutrogena Wing.  Lloyd's Treasure Chestoffers visitors interactive displays about collections and how museums care for collections.