Traversing Morocco's South: "There Is No Paradise Without the Desert"

The other day I was watching an interesting interview on Riz Khan's One on One program that airs on Al-Jazzera English. The guest on the show was Nacer Khemir, a famous Tunisian cinematographer and writer. In the interview, he spoke about the importance of the desert in Arab culture.  He said that without the desert, there would be no paradise and "this quest for paradise is the true essence of Islam." He added that Arab civilizations are "constructed around a void." He pointed out that The Kaaba in Mecca, considered to be the center of the universe for Muslims, is an empty cube, good calligraphy is judged by the void, not the full, the desert is often described as both full and empty, and lastly he said that the word for the number zero also means empty, which explains why some people shout a number of obscenities at me from time to time and then finish by uttering the number zero. He tied it all in by saying, "It's the creation of emptiness inside you so that something can come. And if this emptiness is essential, the Divine arrives." See the full length interview below in which he also speaks of other challenges facing Arab culture and identity and Sufism. He provides a wealth of insight in just 20 minutes.



As I write this blog about my travels through the vast, sun-scorched wilderness of the south of Morocco, I can't help but think of some of the imagery Khemir mentioned.  I often wonder if the Holy Scriptures would have been significantly different if the prophets and apostles had lived in the tropical rainforests of my native Venezuela.  Would Moses have relayed the message to the Children of Israel about going to a 'land of milk and honey' if say they were already enjoying sweet and tangy pineapples, fat and juicy mangoes, mouth-watering papayas, just-like-butta avocados, fun-to-munch-on sugar cane, and getting their fill of the hearty cassava(yuca) and a host of other tropical fruits and veggies?  Would Moses have had to strike a rock if say the Amazon and Orinoco River and their many tributaries were already providing for their water needs?  Would there be so many references in the Qur'an about paradise if say they already lived in one?

Prior to coming to Morocco, I would say that I could sympathize with the Children of Israel, but I couldn't really empathize.  I just didn't have any real context to go by.  Growing up in Venezuela(politics aside), I thought I was already living in the Garden of Eden: lush green and beautiful scenery all around, delicious tropical fruits and veggies available, etc, etc.  When our family moved to the U.S., I lived in areas that were also blessed with frequent rains that kept the lawns and the agricultural fields green, and in Oklahoma and Indiana, deers were literally prancing around in the forest.  I had seen some dunes here and there, but they were mostly isolated patches of sand.  I once traveled through Arizona and Nevada and saw a bit of their deserts.  I was told that the wandering-through-the-wilderness portion of the epic Ten Commandments movie was filmed there, and I can see why they chose that location.  When I drove through, it certainly looked dry, rocky, and devoid of life as some parts of the south of Morocco do.  However, what the Arizona and Nevada deserts don't have is the striking contrast of a lush, green palmerie against the backdrop of a barren, rocky hillside.  Naturally, as you look out your taxi window to allow your mind to escape the cramped and smelly confines you find yourself in, your eyes gravitate to these clusters of green out on the plain, sprouting from a river bed, or wedged in a mountain ravine.  As you reach these oases and palmeries, you do get the urge to say "hamdulillah" (Thanks be to God) or to thank the cosmic forces of the universe for creating this small haven or paradise in the middle of this unbearably hot and hostile terrain.

While traveling through the south of Morocco, I guess you could say that I experienced somewhat of a revelation or better yet a grand clarification.  True, Morocco is really at the fringes of the Sahara and granted I only spent a total of 3 hours on a camel and took a bus to jump from one oasis to another, but I think that even this brief exposure gave me more context than I ever had about the realities and the dynamics at play in a harsh desert environment.

For instance, I can understand why some would be skeptical of people who live out in the desert wilderness and then come to an oasis city yelling that the end is near.  I would have probably handed that person a pitcher of water and then asked, "Now, what was it that you were trying to say?"  Or, I can empathize somewhat with the Children of Israel's reluctance to leave the fertile Nile Delta for a journey through the desert wilderness of the Sinai in order to reach the Promised Land.  I also understand why the Three Kings traveled by night.  They used the stars as their compass, but probably and just as important was their desire to avoid the heat.  I cannot imagine rocking back and forth on a camel in 100 degree plus heat.  Let's just say that after this trip, the stories in The Scriptures began to make a little more sense.

I'm actually heading to Jordan and Egypt after Close-of-Service or as Peace Corps now defines it, "Continuation-of-Service".  Starting November 14, I'm going to be retracing some of the steps Joshua and Moses took in leading the Children of Israel to the Promised Land, but I'm doing it all backwards.  I'm going to Jordan, maybe Israel, and then onto Egypt.  I first thought of going from the land of bondage to the Promised Land, but my frequent flyer miles and flight deals are forcing me to go the opposite way.  Is this a sign?  I should know when I reach Mt. Sinai.

I'm going to be visiting some Jordanian volunteers, crashing some hostels, and couchsurfing some of it.  I hope my Moroccan Arabic will help me get through the trip and allow me to understand a tidbit of what people are saying.  The sites I'm visiting are sites that I have read about ever since I was a kid.  Perhaps, when I arrive at the various sites I will receive another revelation or grand clarification.  Rest assured that if I do, I'll be sure to post it.    

In a future blog, I will expand on the rest of the places I visited on my southern trek with photos, hotel stays, travel tips, and all.  Thanks for reading.

Traversing Morocco's South: Into the Desert

Last Spring, I had the chance to take a week-long excursion through the south of Morocco.  When you visit the south, you get the sense that you're finally in Morocco.  When I left my hometown in April, the temperature was hovering just above 50F.  After a nine hour CTM bus ride from Fes, I arrived in Erfoud early in the morning and immediately began shedding my many layers of clothes to enjoy the balmy 80F weather.  By the time the desert trekking company picked us up around noon, it was well over 90F and by the time we got to the edge of the Sahara, it was easily over 100F, but the heat was not suffocating.  If you stood out in the sun, you'd toast in no time, but as soon as you got under some shade, it was bearable.

I'll never forget one winter in Indiana when we had a massive blizzard followed by some sub-zero temperatures.  The air was so cold then that every time I'd breathe it'd feel as if my little hairs in my nostrils turned into little tiny icicles and then defrost as soon as I'd breathe out.  Well, here in the desert the air was so dry that it felt like every bit of moisture in my nostrils was being sucked out turning that dense jungle of hair and mucus into a parched river bed, but then replenished as soon as I'd breathe out.  (Sorry if my imagery is slightly disturbing)

After a 30-minute 4x4 ride through the rocky, Red Planet-like desert wilderness on the way to the Erg Chebbi dunes, we arrived at a mud piste auberge where we all went into hiding from the blinding and unforgiving sun.  The mud-kasbah was amazingly cool.  We decided to order lunch.  The kasbah had about everything one could find in your typical Moroccan restaurant.  The server told us that they had some of the best Kalia in the region.  I'm not even going to attempt to describe it so I'll just borrow from others.  According to Morocco.com, it describes Kalia as "...a mutton or kid stew flavored with over 40 spices served with egg, vegetables and parsley" (http://www.morocco.com/meknes-tafilalet/erfoud/).   Andrew Zimmern of Bizarre Foods also got a taste and had this to say about it:

I supposedly had Kalia in Erfoud, but my experience was not as unpleasant as Andrew's.  I do remember thinking that the meat was extremely tender and bursting with flavor.  The server told us that the meat had over 40 different spices; he did not say anything about the meat being a mystery meat, marinated in animal fat, or that it was putrid.  In retrospect, I'm glad he left the details out.  

Shortly after lunch, we took a nap.  Most of us had traveled overnight on a bus for about 8 hours or more, so it was nice to rest on a flat surface.  Our guides told us that we had to wait a few more hours for other tour groups to arrive and for the sun to come down a bit.  

After our nap, we went out of the auberge and walked a few hundred meters into the fringe of the desert dunes.  The sky was mostly overcast with just a few rays of the evening sun sneaking through the clouds .  The color of the dunes, mostly a pale beige hue at the height of the day, was now displaying a full range of rich orange shades.  I felt like a little kid walking through this vast sea of sand.  It was such a contrast to anything I had seen: the ripples in the sand, the sand hills and mountains, and the patches of desert grass at the base of these hills.  The sand was slightly coarse, but soothing to walk on.

While we wandered out, our guides began assembling our camels.  The camels grunted all the way to the mounting area.  We had two guides assigned to our group so they formed two caravan lines.  Once everyone was mounted, the guides tugged on the rope and began walking ahead of the leading camels, and just like that, our journey into the Sahara had begun.  

The hour and a half camel ride to our desert oasis was memorable in a number of ways.  The slow pace of the caravan allowed us to take in the surroundings, the changing hues of the desert landscape, the towering sand mountains, their shadows, and the rolling hills of sand going as far as the eye could see, but the pace also made the camel trek seem like it was a never-ending ordeal especially for my groin region.

That's me, second from the top

Going uphill on the camel was no problem, but going downhill put the pressure right smack on the gonads.  Ouch!  It was a relief finally to get off the camel, but just as I loosened up my boxers and pants to give my boys some room to recuperate, I couldn't help but think of our one and a half hour trek back.  The camel ride at the break of dawn with the sun rising over the horizon no longer had the same mystical allure that I had once imagined.

At campsite, there were already a number of other groups in other tents.  We saw a number of people climbing onto what looked like the knife-edge of a tall sand mountain overlooking base camp.  I climbed up to catch a glimpse of the sunset and to get a few shots of the sea of sand that extended to the horizon.  All the while, our guides were busy cooking up dinner.  They served up a number of tagines and put on a full table spread with plates and silverware.  Our group, already used to eating Moroccan-style, grabbed the xubz (bread) and began to chow using bits and pieces of bread with surgical precision to take apart the meat and grab the veggies that had, perhaps by God's will, fallen within our respective triangles of the tagine.

Once dinner was served, our guides and guides from other groups came by to put on a little drum and chant session to cap the night.  The setting was definitely magical.  The sky was pitch black, the stars were brighter than ever, the desert air was cool, and the moon provided the only light in this remote landscape.  Just as my mind was beginning to drift into the desert night, I was hurled back down when a fellow volunteer asked our guide if there was a restroom or designated place to take care of personal needs to which he responded with arms open wide and a strong roll of the 'r', "The rrrestrrroom is everrrywherrre!"

The plan was to catch a few ZZZs and then get up before dawn to catch the sunrise.  Our entire group of 11 slept in one tent.  We spoke for a bit, but then crashed for the night.  At around 5AM, our guides began banging their pots and pans to wake us up.  A few of us got up and climbed the sand mountain once again.  It was a bit chilly and windy, but the views were quite astounding.  I got to catch a glimpse of the sun as it rose over another tall sand ridge.  The sun was almost completely white.  It was beautiful.  I don't think I had ever seen the sun this clear.  I took a few shots and then scooted down the sand mountain to get a bit of breakfast--this time served inside our tent.

Soon thereafter, I reluctantly mounted another camel and just tried to focus my attention away from the ride and onto the beautiful scenery of changing orange and red hues as the sun began its ascent.  After another torturous yet amusing camel trek, I arrived at our kasbah auberge a bit bow-legged, but with all pieces intact, hamdullah (thanks be to God).  Once there, we took turns taking a much needed shower and prepared ourselves for our 4x4 ride back to Erfoud.  

On the way back, I saw a number of camels and herds of goats and some sheep grazing in the distance.  I also noticed quite a few signs advertising all sorts of marine fossils mainly of the trilobite variety.  Our drivers cautioned us that some of the shops rather than excavating in the harsh sun manufacture much of what they sell to unsuspecting tourists.

We arrived in the palm-oasis of Erfoud, most famously known for its annual date festival celebrating the harvest of a wide array of tasty date varieties.  This year the event got a major boost from the government who decided to capitalize on this abundant crop by putting up a highly publicized grand exhibition called SIDATTES 2010.  The drivers dropped us off at the Erfoud bus and taxi station.  From there, a few of us chilled out at a nearby restaurant, tried a little Kalia, and then went on our separate ways thankfully without any major bowel movement disruptions, l-hamdullilah.  

Trip Essentials:

Price

The bigger the group, the better the discount.  A lone trekker normally will pay between 400-450DH.  Our group of 11 managed to get a flat 400DH per head. Bigger groups of volunteers have been able to go as low as 350DH per person.  

What's included? 

From Erfoud, you’ll take a 4x4 ride to the kasbah auberge in Merzouga, camel trek to campsite and back, dinner and breakfast, overnight stay in their tents outfitted with spongy mattresses and plenty of blankets, and use of kasbah facilities (showers and storage).  

Who to call?

Pretty much every volunteer group has used a couple of guys who work with Sahara-Excursions.com.  Our contact is Hamid and can be reached at +212-(0)666-76-63-51.  If you tell them that you were referred by Peace Corps volunteers, volontaires du Corps de la Paix, he should honor the 350-450DH price range that he has extended to us.

How to get to Erfoud?

CTM departs to Erfoud from a number of major cities like Fes, Marrakech, and Casablanca.  Supratours also goes out to Erfoud.  They coordinate their departures based on train arrivals.  For more information, visit www.oncf.ma

BssHa on your travels!  Triq Slama!  

In Matters of Faith: Introducing Salsism

My relationship with organized religion has been a rocky one.  I grew up in an evangelical home.  I read my Bible often, prayed daily, and went to Bible school every Sunday.  My parents did not dare miss a church service.  When I began to slowly distance myself from our church, I didn't walk away from everything I had learned; I simply began to think more for myself rather than saying yea and amen to anything the church minister said. To this day, I continue to indulge in my spirituality.  I seek meaning and understanding not just from scriptures, but from encounters with people, nature, and in music.

There have been many a great messengers who I believe spoke truth in their music sometimes in their lyrics or through their instruments. Some of these contemporary luminaries are the likes of Bob Marley, John Lennon, and Pink Floyd just to name a few.  In the Latin world, we also have a number of musicians who in their devotion to perfect their craft composed some tunes that resonated in the hearts of many and continues to influence one generation after another. They produced what I like to call Salsism or Salsianity, a non-canonical compilation of Salsa songs that speak to different people in different ways.

Salsism began spreading during the 60's and 70's throughout Latin and Central America and the Caribbean.  The debate is still out on when or where the movement began gaining converts/dancers.  Some say it originated in Cuba, others say it started in Puerto Rico, and another group claims that it finally came together as a gospel in New York City.  Thanks to technological advances, some old songs are being restored that may point to a more definitive date and time, but that's for Salsism theologians to grapple about.  What's important is the message.  

Unfortunately, because Morocco has a strict ban on proselytizing, I have only shared it with a select few; however, despite the ban, it appears that Salsism may be an unstoppable force. Ominous signs can be seen in Marrakech, which hosted an International Salsa Festival late September.

Salsism from its inception has been a pluralistic tradition.   In fact, if you were to ask most Salsism followers or as we call them in Spanish Salseros, they will tell you that they also subscribe to a host of other beliefs: Catholicism, Confucianism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Protestantism, and probably to a small degree at this present moment Islam.

Like other faiths, its meaning is incomprehensible.  You can devote time to unraveling the hidden messages within the lyrics, but it is not a requirement for one to devote any time at all to that.  Actually, some of our most fervent followers don't understand a word of what is being sung, but they attend congregational meetings regularly and display their zeal on the dance floor whether it be in Cuban, Puerto Rican, Ballroom, or pegadito (nice-n-close) style.  If you were to ask most salseros about their passion for the music, I think many would agree that it's more about what you do rather than what you believe.  


One way we exhibit that passion is to partake in general congregational meetings where you can hear the gospel truth sung by a soulful sonero and where more often than not alcohol is served in abundance.   The eclectic mix of African drums, indigenous chants, and the smooth brass of NYC's jazz  influence creates an intoxicating magical fusion of captivating beats and rhythms complemented with heartfelt lyrics that quite often leave people with the insatiable need for more.  Dancing is not a requirement, but it is highly recommended for anyone wishing to experience the transcendence of moving in unison with the music and the partner of your choice--it is important to note that in this particular instance too much alcohol can work against you if you wish to reach this transcendent state.  

On my last blog I shared a tidbit of my credo sung by one of the all-time great soneros of the 20th century, Hector Lavoe.  He is one of the many soneros who we salseros believe to have interpreted some profound messages often written by Willie Colon and Ruben Blades that were then delivered through salsa.  A lot of gospel truth emerged during the 60's and 70's in what many call the Golden Age of Salsa.  Lavoe, Willie Colon, Ruben Blades, Celia Cruz, Ismael Rivera, El Gran Combo, Grupo Niche, and Oscar de Leon are just a few of some of the most prolific interpreters during Salsism's Golden Age.  The songs they sung are so timeless that the studios continue to enhance them, new soneros like Marc Anthony remake them, and DJs continue to remix them.  It's impossible to outline all the values of Salsism: first, because as I said, it's too encompassing to be narrowed down to a few phrases; and second, doing so would result in a biased, incomplete, and woefully inadequate interpretation.  There's only one way to experience transcendence.  You can't take my word for it; you have to go there yourself.

So without further ado, here are a number of songs from some of the most devout interpreters of Salsism:
  

1)  "El Todopoderoso" by Hector Lavoe


A tribute to the All-Mighty, but cautions people to keep their beliefs to themselves.

2) "Todo Tiene Su Final" by Hector Lavoe



Sings of the bloom and withering of a beautiful flower and the rise and fall of a world champion to remind all that nothing lasts forever.  Carpe diem!

3) "El Cantante" by Hector Lavoe written by Ruben Blades



Talks about the life of a famous singer who many envy and believe to be the happiest man alive.  Yet, throughout the song he claims that he is like everyone else.  He suffers and has had hard times that have hurt deeply; however, no one asks or wants to know.  He is told and he knows quite well that he is a singer.  His role is to sing and to bring joy to the people.

4) "Plastico" by Ruben Blades (This video has lyrics translated into English and shows a number of congregational meetings)



Talks of rejecting materialism and the illusion of social class.

5) "El Gran Baron" by Willie Colon


"No se puede corregir a la naturaleza, palo que nace doblao', jamas su tronco endereza."  (You can't correct/change nature.  A tree that grows bent, never does it's trunk straighten.)  The song interprets this famous dicho(saying) by telling the story of the only son of a rich man who will one day be heir to his father's fortune.  The young man is sent abroad to study, and while away from his father's constant gaze, he "comes out of the closet".  One day the father decides to make a surprise visit to his son.  The young man dressed in women's clothes and makeup greets his father on the street.  The father is appalled and disowns his son.  Years later, the young man dies all alone in a hospital.  His father after so many years wonders about the fate of his only son and inquires about him only to learn that he passed away.  Another famous dicho is added towards the end, "Si del cielo te cae limones, aprende hacer limonada" (If the heavens send you lemons, learn to make lemonade).

6) "Pedro Navaja" by Ruben Blades



In this song, Blades tells the story of a street hustler and a prostitute working the same street.  The hustler decides to assault the prostitute.  The prostitute is stabbed, but before she collapses she fires her revolver and shoots the hustler.  Both die and then a drunk man passes by tripping over them, grabs the revolver, a few coins that were on the sidewalk, and then says: "La vida te da sorpresas; sorpresas te da la vida ay Dios" (Literally, life surprises you; colloquially, shit happens.)
------
As with any message that is being delivered, one should strive to understand the context in which it was written.  Many Salsism gospel songs criticize or comment on the Latin American machismo, rampant crime, corruption, and a host of other societal ills.  I've tried not to interject my interpretation of the songs because I think everyone should determine meaning for themselves.  I've provided only brief synapses of the lyrics, but even my translations and summaries should not be taken completely to heart.

I cannot tell you what to do with the gospel that has been shared.  Some feel the need to tell all.  As for me, I prefer to live by example attending congregational meetings on a regular basis and inviting anyone in search of truth and transcendence.  Now that I am down to my last month of Peace Corps service, I can't wait to reunite with fellow salseros.  Perhaps years down the road, I will return to Morocco to partake of the festivities of what I hope will be one of the biggest congregational meetings ever.

---------

For the closest congregational meeting in your neck of the woods, check out Salsadancecongresses.com or http://www.salsapower.com/

Also, to continue to hear more gospel truth, these days you can stream live salsa from Live365, Pandora, or Spotify.    You'll also find that once you type Hector Lavoe or Willie Colon on YouTube the names of other salsa greats come up.  Good luck in your search! Keep listening and keep dancing!

In Matters of Faith: Minding My Own

In Morocco, faith and religious practice is intertwined with everyday life.  The call to prayer is loud and clear five times a day and especially noticeable at five in the morning.  Every action, it seems, is preceded or followed by what are commonly referred to as God phrases.  If a Moroccan happens to notice that you took a shower, got a haircut, got new clothes, got done exercising, or finished a meal, he or she instinctively blurts out a bssHa (To your health) to which one must respond with a llah y3tik sHa (May God give you health) .  If you are about to start cooking a meal, eating a meal, about to walk out the door, jump in a car, or go anywhere in particular uttering a bismillah (In the Name of God) is necessary to bless the start of the journey or activity.  If you're grateful about anything, you should throw in a hamdullah (thanks be to God).  When you're about to walk out the door or leaving your circle of friends, you could say bslama, which according to our Peace Corps Darija (Moroccan Arabic) textbook is your equivalent of a goodbye, but a lot of Moroccans combine that with a llah y3wnk or llah yfdk (God help you or God protect you).  Lastly, if one is to mention anything that is likely to happen in the near or distant future, one should expect to be interrupted with a customary inshallah (God willing).

I've gotten so accustomed to using these phrases that now I insert preemptive inshallahs before I start any future tense verb.  Some of my Moroccan friends think that I'm being really considerate of God's will by inserting inshallahs at the start, middle, and end of my future tense sentences, but truth is that I don't really like to be interrupted when I'm speaking :). Who does?

To a foreigner adding all these God phrases can seem quite burdensome and odd if unaccustomed to invoking God in their native language.  There are so many different phrases and using one out of place can get you some chuckles or stares and is a tell-tale sign that you haven't been in the country for very long.  For Moroccans, uttering them is second nature.  They add these phrases effortlessly into their conversation.  The more you use them, the more respectful or pious you come across.  The utterance of Allah (God) is intrinsically tied to their everyday sayings regardless if you're speaking in Darija, Tamazight, Tashelheit, or Tarifit.

During Ramadan, it seems as if people are a bit more devoted to the practice of their faith than is commonly seen throughout the year.  They attend the mosque with more frequency, read the Qur'an, and wear what some consider to be more reverent attire.  More men put on their skull-caps and dust off their ankle-length white tunics.  People turn even more nocturnal than usual as circadian rhythms and blood-sugar levels are thrown out of whack by the sunrise to sunset fast and the late night meals.  The other day as I walked around Rabat just before the break of fast, I was taken aback by how people sat in front of a hot, delicious serving of Morocco's famous harira, fat, juicy dates, sugary fried dough delicacies, and a glass of juice or milk without taking a bite or a sip at least until the imam called out the end of the fast.  It was remarkable to witness this degree of self-control.

Religious traditions also play a role in the family's finances.  For every new child that is born, the father must sacrifice a sheep during its naming ceremony.  For the grand feast of L3id Kbir/Al-Adha, the family takes out the savings to purchase one to two sheep depending on the size of the family.  Every sheep can cost anywhere from 1,000 to 1,500DH or $120 to $180.  This may not sound like a lot in dollar terms, but when the average salary for a day laborer is 50DH or $6.25 p/day; just imagine the effort families have to make to have the money for this must-do religious rite.  Not too long ago, one of my Moroccan friends told me that his wife was  expecting twins.  He was elated, but also somewhat concerned because within a few months he would have to purchase two sheep for the naming ceremony.  I asked him why couldn't just one sheep suffice, but the thought of that was something he'd rather not even contemplate.  He felt a sense of obligation.  

Another ritual that all Muslims should do, according to what is regarded as the five pillars of Islam, within their lifetime is the Hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca, which can run between 50-60,000DH per person for an all-inclusive travel package.  For many Moroccans especially here in the rural and semi-urban towns, having that much cash available is something of a pipe dream; however, that doesn't mean that they don't think about it.  If the economic circumstances would permit it, they would most certainly follow through with it without any hesitation.

Sometimes people's religious fervor can also be in-your-face, literally.  During our pre-service training, we were warned that many people would approach us to speak to us about Islam with the goal of converting us.  According to our cross-cultural facilitators during our PC training, he stated that the Qur'an speaks of a reward in paradise for those that bring someone into Islam.  Most people have been cordial when speaking about Islam while some, perhaps by nature are belligerent and judgmental, speak about their faith in a forceful and absolutist way.  Others are really sly and attempt to convert you by having you repeat the shahada, the declaration of faith, without explaining to you what you're about to say--I think most volunteers have probably unintentionally converted, but supposedly according to Muslim scholars, if one does not say the shahada knowing fully what one is saying and in earnest, then it doesn’t count. Most everyone asks if I fast and how many times I pray. When I tell them that in my old church we were not required to fast and that we did pray during church services and before meals, some have said that they like the prayer before meals idea, but found it odd that we were not asked to fast.


Any response about my former religious practices were met with comparisons. If I said that some Catholics fast for Lent for a week or up to a month, I was reminded about how much Muslims fasted. If I said that my family used to pray before meals, traveling, and before going to bed, I was reminded about how most Muslims pray five times a day. If I told them that I would go to church service twice per week, I was then told that most Muslims go to the mosque at least five times per day. Every answer was met with a response showing how much more devoted Muslims were in terms of all the things that they did.


What was absent from most of our conversations was the question of what I believed. In the U.S., there are so many denominations branching out from Christianity that often what one believes is central to one's religious or spiritual identity, but in Morocco, only a handful of people asked me what exactly did I believe. When I read Seyyed Hossein Nasr'sHeart of Islam, I began to understand the questions or the absence of some questions from my Moroccan friends and colleagues. He said that Muslims are not concerned with orthodoxy, but rather orthopraxy. It's not about what you believe, but what you do. Hence, what they say throughout the day, what they wear, the number of times they pray, the slaughtering of the sacrificial lamb, complying with Shari'a law, fasting, making the pilgrimage to Mecca, and zakat (almsgiving) are a daily demonstration of their devotion and submission to God.

Having worked with previous volunteers, my tutor knew that I would be confronted about my Christian faith.  He gave me some phrases that would help to diffuse the tension and would call to question the actions of the often self-righteous and presumptuous proselytizer.  Basically, he told me to do the following: first, one shouldn't be speaking about Islam with complete strangers so one can call out people for being impertinent; second, once the person has apologized and invited you and your friends over for lunch or tea, but should they persist, one should tell them that should one decide to become a Muslim, one need not only to hear about the faith, but also to see living examples of the faith where the principles (mabadi), values (qiyam), and manners/behaviors (axlaq) are in full display; thirdly, if that doesn't prompt the proselytizer to reflect on their own lives and conduct, one can appeal to them to respect (Htrm) one's faith or call them out for being judgmental, which according to the Qur'an should only be God’s prerogative. 

With religion being ever-present, it is hard not to think about one’s beliefs.  Seeking to understand where people around me were coming from, I read a number of books that gave me some insight into my neighbors’ faith and how that faith shaped their values.  I went through Karen Armstrong’s History of God, which chronicled the evolution of Abrahamic faiths.  Ms. Armstrong’s detailed account of the birth, expansion, inner struggles, outside influences, and future challenges of each of the three Abrahamic faiths helped me understand the context in which the divine scriptures were written and how over the centuries different people in different regions with different influences read or heard the scriptures, which helped them determine a course of action for their lives and the lives of others.  Several years before coming to Morocco and before I even applied to the Peace Corps, a dear mentor of mine recommended Ms. Armstrong’s Holy War: The Crusades and Their Impact on Today’s World, which documented the interaction between East and West and Christianity and Islam crusade by crusade.  These two books gave me a lot of great insight and also gave me more of an impetus to continue learning.  

I followed Armstrong's books with Nasr’s Heart of Islam.  This book was written shortly after 9/11 in the hopes of creating an interfaith dialogue and to counter the media’s negative portrayals of his faith.  It’s a contrast to Armstrong who as a religious historian attempts to remain objective in her narrative.  Nasr makes no excuses about what he believes and has little regard for the work of Enlightenment scholars who first attempted to describe his faith.  In fact, in his preface he goes on to say that the Age of Enlightenment was “an age of the darkening of the soul and eclipse of the intellect”.  Like Armstrong, he compares and contrasts various passages in the Torah, Bible, and Qur’an to show how the scriptures resemble one another.  He counters the media critics who allege that Islam is a violent religion or that it supposedly endorses violence by pointing to other verses in the Qur’an that speak of tolerance, forgiveness, and peace.

Later on, I came across a copy of Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s Infidel, a book that supposedly is banned in Morocco and in many other Islamic countries because of what some consider to be a poor depiction of Islam, but probably most importantly because she is a Muslim turned atheist.  Ali’s struggles in war-torn Somalia, her brief stint in Saudi Arabia, living as a refugee in Ethiopia, her courageous escape to Europe, and her spiritual transformations make for a riveting read.  Even if one objects to the characterizations about Islam, her life story is a remarkable journey.  I found it insightful to read about how different people with distinctive cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds from the various countries she lived in, within and outside of the Abode of Islam, interpreted the scriptures and then applied them to their daily lives.  Throughout most of the book I believe she is intending to demonstrate how someone's culture can frame the faith, but then towards the end, she seems to forget that point and resorts to making similar generalizations about the role of the faith in various aspects of Muslim society.  She picks and chooses verses to show that the Qur'an endorses oppression and calls out some Muslism for not being true Muslims because they don't adhere to a literal interpretation.  It's almost as if she turned into the very thing she despised.

The history and culture as Ali shows are key in the exercise of an individual, community, or a nation's faith, but I can't help but think about the socioeconomic factors at play that have put oppressive governments in power. Just recently, I read a blurb on a recent copy of The Economist magazine about the curse of oil.  According to the author, one of the reasons why the U.S. has made strides in gender equality is partly due to world events that prompted change.  World War I & II forced women to the workforce and in the process they gained skills and political clout in the dynamics of the family.  Also, in our market-driven economy, we are constantly seeking new and innovative ways to generate domestic demand; therefore, ignoring the needs, aspirations, and ideas of 50% of the population would be bad for business.  On the other hand, oil-rich countries, which also happen to make up a significant portion of the Islamic World, are export driven, mostly state-controlled, and have steady cashflows that makes it less of an imperative to diversify their economy.  Also, men in some of these countries earn enough to feed the family; thus, women, aside from consumption side of an economy, are nearly absent in other areas.

I think that logic rings somewhat true in Morocco.  Because they lack the oil deposits, they have a much more diversified economy where women play a much bigger role in government and business.  The dynamics in a family where the wife is an income contributor is remarkably different.  When our CBT group asked a cooperative about gender expectations relating to work within Islam, they reminded us that the Prophet's wife, Khadija, was the head of a large caravan trade business.  The women of the cooperative did not feel at odds with their faith for pursuing a profitable trade or career.  Like Ali showed the environment in which Islam is practiced will differ and in turn so will the laws, gender roles, and expectations.  Socioeconomic policy can certainly influence the societal structural.  I'm not saying that petrodollars are the sole cause for why for instance women in Saudi Arabia are not allowed to drive, but they can certainly prop a ruling class that may have a very rigid interpretation different from those of the women's coop I worked with and from that of other Muslim countries.

After reading the Heart of Islam and Infidel, I felt I needed to formulate my own opinion about the Qur’an so I started reading it.  As of November 5, I am only about a quarter of the way through it.  It’s a tough book to read with a lot of complicated passages that I believe are lost in translation.  Other passages are quite clear especially when speaking of the Five Pillars of Islam and I can see why many Moroccans feel comfortable telling me that I’m going to hell because I decided not to fast, but then again from what I have read, Surah 5 v. 47 of the Qur’an also states, “Let the People of the Gospel judge by that which Allah hath revealed therein.”  Mid-way through verse 48 it adds, “Had Allah willed he could have made you one community.  But that He may try you by that which He hath given you.  So vie one another in good works.  Unto Allah ye will all return, and He will then inform you of that wherein ye differ.”  The first sentence of Surah 2 v. 256 says, “There is no compulsion in religion.” These passages I’m sure could be interpreted in a number of ways and should be read with as much historical context and commentary.  For me, given my background, limited knowledge, and my limited capacity to understand religious scriptures, they mean that Allah has revealed Himself in different ways, He alone is the judge, and people should stop forcing others to do something in the name of religion. But don't take it from me.  Read it for yourself!

Be mindful that even after reading through several Surahs, these were the verses and passages that stood out to me.  Why did they stand out? Because these were the verses that my innately biased mind searched for.  Back in college, we had a name for this bias.  It was called selective attention.  We all practice it, but few acknowledge it.  My selective attention derives from growing up in an all-women household in Latin America under tough economic conditions in a conservative Christian environment.  I also moved around quite a bit, and every time we moved, I heard from a different pastor who quite often focused on different passages of the Bible or interpreted various verses in his own peculiar way.  Different people with different backgrounds read the Qur'an and other scriptures, and it speaks to them in different ways.  Others pick out various religious scriptures that give them meaning or justifies their behavior and sometimes overlook or place less emphasis on other passages that may run contradictory to their absolutist or legalistic ideology.  Some people are aware of their biases, but others are not.  In an ideal world, I would have any would-be interpreter of religious scriptures add a disclaimer, similar to the pharmaceutical commercials, about their cultural and socioeconomic background and even the natural environment he/she grew up in before he/she utters one word of interpretation or offers a selection of verses.  This would provide much-needed context to the individual's deliberate and unconscious biases when reading religious texts.        

Like I said, I’m only a quarter of the way through the Qur'an.  I’m still making up my mind about what has been said.  At the same time, I don’t think I will ever get to the point where I’ll have a clear understanding of anything written in any of the Divine Scriptures.  Armstrong tells stories of scholars of the Abrahamic faiths who gave up trying to make sense of the Scriptures and just began to recite and sing them believing that their meaning was beyond human comprehension.  I would agree with her. 

Unfortunately, many are not humble enough to accept that.  My prayer is that those who are aware of their inability to fully understand the Divine Scriptures will have the fortitude to stand up to those that claim to know it all or purport to carry out God’s will.  As for now, when it comes to matters of faith, I'll continue to mind my own.

--------

Here's a recent speech by Karen Armstrong on TED on her Charter for Compasssion:

Bridging the Rural and Urban Divide

I've been lucky to have the chance to host a number of Returned Peace Corps Volunteers (RPCVs) that have served elsewhere over the last couple of years.  We have had some very enlightening conversations.  One topic that we always bring up is our respective tours of service.  I am always curious to find out what other Peace Corps countries are doing and to hear about any successes and challenges they have had.

All of the Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) I've hosted have come from Sub-Saharan Africa.  Most of these PCVs have had a much more challenging experience from the viewpoint of having to do more with less.  The last RPCV that came through remarked about how impressive Morocco's transportation infrastructure was in comparison to her host country, which allowed her to travel with relative ease throughout the entire country  east to west and from one of the southernmost cities on edge of the Sahara in Zagora to the northernmost city in the country Tangiers sitting right on Mediterranean coast .  She was also astounded by the great diversity of food that Morocco was blessed with.  She had mentioned that for the majority of her service she had eaten maize (corn) almost everyday because that was the main staple that was available.  Other vegetables and fruit showed up at the market only on an occasional basis.  She said that it was tough at first, but then she got used  to just eating to subsist.  It's refreshing to hear these sorts of accounts because it is very easy to focus on the negative or the things that frustrate me about my host country and I forgets how lucky I really am.  It puts things in context.

Some RPCVs after having traveled through Morocco question why volunteers are here in the first place.  Compared to their countries of service, Morocco is the developed world.  When I arrived here, I and all my Small Business and Youth Development stagemates stayed at a very fancy star-rated hotel in the heart of the capital.  We had hot showers, internet, buffet-style meals, comfortable beds to sleep on, and a nice balcony to ponder about what lay ahead in the mysterious land of the far west.  When I took a stroll around the capital walking down the famous Mohammed V Avenue, I was impressed by the landscaping, the cleanliness, the well-kept French-style administration buildings, and even just how the roads were marked and curbs were painted.  My initial impression was that it appeared that Morocco seem to be in better order than my native Venezuela.  If I was to simply visit Rabat, Casablanca, and other major Moroccan cities, I would come to the conclusion that Morocco is developed and doing quite well for itself.  It makes sense for many RPCVs to question Peace Corps' role in such a country, not to mention that Peace Corps Morocco is the second largest program in the world with over 200 volunteers year-round.  When I hear their stories and their comparisons, it makes me question my role.

I live in what is considered a semi-urban site.  The population ranges from 50-70K.  The city is blessed with a river that runs through it, which irrigates the many farms that surround the city, and heavy winter rains and an occasional snow that keep the city looking remarkably green.  I have internet in my home, running water, and reliable electricity.  When I signed up, I thought that I would be hauling my water, lighting candles at night, perhaps performing rain dances with the locals, and then coming up with some development scheme, with input from the community of course, that would aid my community in some noticeable way.  When it comes to governance, I would have to say that the Fes-Bouleman Province may be an exception to the norm.    In just two years, they widened and repaved the main roads of the city, refurbished the old city, installed brand new street lighting and Christmas-like lights all over town, and built a few new administrative centers for various delegations.  Also, right now the road to Fes is being widened into a four-lane highway, which will make the 30 kilometers to Fes a breeze.  The municipality and provincial government are producing results.  A few of my fellow PCVs that have visited have said that I am indeed not in Peace Corps, but Posh Corps. At the start of service, I did feel as if my experience was not the true, genuine Peace Corps experience.

So it appeared that my community had a lot going for it.  They had easy access to one of the biggest tourist markets in Fes, reliable communication services, decent roads, public and private schools, and a delegation that seemed to be improving their lot.  I was also the fifth consecutive volunteer in this site.  I thought, "After so many cycles of volunteers, shouldn't these artisans be at a point where they don't need our assistance?  Was PC just scrambling for sites? Am I not going to be competing with what appeared to be a city with plenty of university educated young people who also happen to be unemployed?" With so many resources, I asked myself the existential question, "Why am I here?"  

It wasn't until my language began to pick up that I began to understand my role.  Once I got to talking with people about their life, their challenges, their history, and the work of previous volunteers, a need began to take shape.  I took a couple of trips to Fes to check out the artisana markets to see how well my artisans fared against what seemed, at first glance, like a saturated market.  The quality of their products was just as good if not better than most, but they weren't selling a whole lot.  The coops that I spoke to had no problems producing a large number of items on demand so production and quality were not the problem.  Despite being 30k south of Fes, our city did not see a steady flow of tourist.  Those that do come don't always stop at the artisana so location is an issue, but I thought, "Why not sell in Fe?"

When I asked, several artisans in my artisana complex unanimously chimed in that doing so would undercut their gains significantly.  They explained how Fassi, Rabati, or Cassawi bazzarists have a practice of lowering their purchasing price with every buying trip and then they turn around and sell the product supposedly at five to ten times the wholesale price to tourist.  Some of the weaving cooperatives in the region were formed for the specific purpose of selling at a higher price collectively.

Furthermore, they were also worried that some of the big-city bazzarist could potentially steal their product ideas and have some other coop or artisan produce the item at a lower price.  When asked about any trusted retailers, most said that they preferred to sell directly to a customer and not a middleman.  It was startling to hear these accounts.  There was so much distrust in their fellow Moroccans who were just 30k away.

If they weren't planning to sell to Fassi medina shops, who were they hoping to target?  Each coop I spoke to hoped to target the foreign market and wealthy Moroccans who in some cases are émigrés living or working abroad.  They say that foreigners are usually the ones that value their handmade work and pay the prices they feel the product warrants.  They told me stories about different artisans or coops getting linked with clients in Europe and how much money they had made.  These opportunities also led to trips to various expos abroad.  I looked up some Moroccan artisana retailers in the U.S. and told them that it was possible to link them with the Moroccan owners, but upon suggesting this option, one of my artisans told me that he did not want to work with Moroccans abroad.  He feared that they would exploit his goods just as the middlemen in Morocco.  I was reminded once again that I needed to bypass the middlemen and find direct selling options.  Now, I was confused.  It's not just big-city bazzarists from Morocco that they were afraid of, but Moroccan bazzarists in general or maybe just other Moroccans in general? Hmm.

Well, feeling the need to get going on something I endeavored to improve the marketing of a few individual artisans and one coop.  Some friends with some fine cameras passed through my town and were gracious enough to take hundreds of product shots that I then cropped and modified for a catalog, website, and other marketing materials.  A previous volunteer had done a similar project compiling products from all artisans at the artisana and of other PCV sites.  The catalog ended up being a whopping 25MB in size even after compression.  I wasn’t even going to attempt something of that scale; instead, I decided to focus on one particular cooperative.  

I began work on an English-language website for the Cherry Buttons Cooperative.  We first set up a number of services like Box.net, a few Picasa Web Albums, Google Docs, Skype, and opened a Wordpress account.  I walked my counterpart through most of the services.  She began to use Skype immediately alerting her son in Belgium to do the same.  He installed it and from then on he became a fixture of our daily casse-croûte (evening snack).  My counterpart would call just as they were about to start.  They watched each other pour their tea, expressed how much they missed one another, and then spoke about their respective days.  It was cool to see how this technology brought the family closer.  For the Wordpress site, I interviewed Amina a couple of times and then spoke to past volunteers to get some content.  We then launched it just before her departure in late June to the 2009 Santa Fe International Folk Art Market.  I was happy to be busy, but the nagging question of sustainability was in the back of my mind the entire time.

I knew that a PCV or an English-speaking person would need to be responsible for the English version of the site, but I was hoping that with a French site I could begin to train someone on how to update, maintain, and respond to the inquiries that the site was generating.  With the help of Fouzia Chkar, a very intelligent and talented interpreter, we translated the English text to French and then we launched a French language version, Boutons de Cerises, of the same site in December 2009.  Fast-forwarding to September 2010, both the English and French sites were generating inquiries, but Amina had no one to respond to them.  I sat down with her from time to time to go through the emails, which ranged from questions about prices, availability, production, shipping, the djellaba button-learning class we advertised, and about the coop's community outreach programs and trainings, but we often respond late because of schedule conflicts or lack of an internet connection or a working computer in her home.  From the moment I began the project, I asked Amina to recruit someone that would have the time to be trained on everything I had done, but for a number of reasons, she was unable to.  The website has the potential to do as requested, to reduce the dependence on a middleman, but without the administrative organizational structure, it's very hard to see it progressing.

For all the bad talk the artisana middlemen get, they play a vital role in the Moroccan economy.  My artisan community only point to the large gains made by the bazzarist, but fails to understand the underlying reason.  Most middlemen have as their lifeblood a network of producers, retailers, wholesalers, and direct buyers.  They recognize the value of building a clientele, whereas most of my artisans are only concerned about making the present day sale.  The smart Fassi middlemen creates a welcoming environment in his shop and invites you to tea to find out if your friends, family, or colleagues could be potential clients as well.  They have control of at least 3-4 languages.  They can speak Tamazight to their producers, Darija to their Moroccan colleagues, French, Spanish, or English to the tourists that pass by, and correspond in French or Fusha with international clients.  In addition to being fluent in 3-4 languages, some are also tech literate.  In contrast, within the artisan community, the illiteracy figure has to be above 60% (Here's an article on a recent move by the Moroccan government to eradicate illiteracy, "New literacy agency will target Moroccan women, rural dwellers").   If it wasn't for the bazzarist, artisanal products wouldn't move in Morocco.

When President Kennedy issued the call to establish the Peace Corps, it was with the intention of sending men and women to countries seeking technical and development assistance.  In Morocco, I don't think this really applies.  I don't think Morocco lacks in technical expertise; it's just that the majority have left or are leaving the rural areas for the big cities.  There is certainly a need in my town for assistance, but it is partly due to the flight of young people or brain drain to Fes and other big cities.  One of the reasons why my counterpart is unable to find a recruit is because that individual is likely to find a better paying or more prestigious job in the big city.  Some of the young men nearing marrying age in my town have said to me that they have little time to do unpaid NGO activities.  They're thinking about landing a secure job and accumulating some capital to build a nice nest for their future family.  In my opinion, the technical expertise--although I think it could be fine-tuned a bit--is already here; it's just not in many of our sites.

My counterpart is not alone in this pursuit for talent.  Even the government has problems keeping rural schools staffed.  Part of the reason why rural schools are understaffed stems from the misguided attempt to import help from the cities rather than to develop it locally.  Also, it could very well be that those students from the country, after getting a taste of the big city, vow never to return.  The Maghrebia article goes on to speak about the hardships the families endure being separated.  It also should note that another reason why teachers leave is due to the shoddy infrastructure in many rural sites.  Taking someone from a cosmopolitan city like Rabat or Casablanca and then placing them somewhere where running water and electricity are a luxury can be a shock for many.  These city-slickers can feel just as isolated from the community as a foreigner.  Ironically, I've heard of some cases where the PCV who has been living in the community for some time is one of the individuals that helps the urbanite integrate and in some instances serves as a translator for the university-educated Moroccan who's been exposed to French and English, but never to a Berber dialect like Tamazight.  Many Moroccans who take rural posts are doing so knowing that their appointment is temporary and much like volunteers begin to count the days till the end of their service when they may be relocated closer to family or to a more urban location.  I believe that as long as infrastructure developments lag in the rural parts of the country, the cities will only continue to sprawl, the youth will continue to migrate to the cities, and the human capital will continue to go where it can yield the highest return.

This urban and rural divide is not unique to Morocco; it seems that many developing countries face the same dilemma, but why is this the case?  Not long ago, I read an interesting account of how development funds from the World Bank, IMF, and other large loan-making organizations were issued to developing countries.  John Perkins, a fellow RPCV, in his Confessions of An Economic Hitman shares hist personal story as that of a self-described ‘Economic Hitman’ who traversed the world selling massive development projects to Third World countries for the purpose of putting these countries in debt holes they would never be able to climb out of.  He spoke of projects that were often constructed without a proper environmental assessment or without any consideration for those who would be displaced.  He also said that it was quite often the countries’ urban business elite or foreign companies that benefited the most from the projects reaping windfall profits from the expansion of the industries they already controlled.  From his insider’s account, it appears that the development schemes are also in the hands of middlemen/women.  Some of these middlemen/women proposed development schemes that would increase the energy supply of the cities so that the urban factories could expand production at the expense of building a dam that destroyed the fishing and agriculture of the people living downstream.  If infrastructure is largely a government initiative, could it be that the development monies whether through foreign loans or tax revenues are also being hijacked by urban middlemen/women who are widening the divide?

Morocco is making great progress on meeting many of their Millennium Development Goals, which in its case mainly involves projects to reduce the urban versus rural infrastructure disparity.  Since gaining its independence, the country has expanded the electricity grid and potable water availability considerably.  On education, there are also positive marks on improving access by building more schools and dormitories for those kids living too far from the nearest school.  On the flipside, I see signs of middlemen/women hijacking funds when I hear of water-usage showdowns between the farmers and the tourism lobby who wishes to divert more water from the low-yielding agriculture industry to the more lucrative golf courses, pools, and for the use of luxury hotels in Marrakech (USA Today "Drought, tourism endanger Marrakech palm grove").  The trade group argues that the use of water in the tourism sector yields more revenues than using it in agriculture and that may very well be, but the diversion would likely displace the farmers who will have no option but to move to the nearest city for employment.  I also find it interesting to hear of the construction of a TGV like train line on the Atlantic coast when much of the Middle Atlas is connected by a skinny, pot-hole lined two-lane road.  My hope is that the country's recent efforts to decentralize governance will help to bring parity between the urban and rural interests. 

Diverting resources is not the only way to hijack development funds.  Middlemen/women can also siphon funds through legal and illegal means.  Corruption is a muskil kbir (big problem) in Morocco.  In a country where the illiteracy rate is well above 50% in the countryside, it’s likely that only a few people understand where the money is going and how it’s been applied; the majority is completely clueless.  Abdelrrahim El Ouali shares similar views in his article for Inter Press Services titled "Morocco on a slow march to literacy".  The illiteracy rate is even higher for women so it’s likely that a female’s point of view is missing.  When it comes to development dollars, it is quite easy to overstate expenses to a grant-making NGO that is on another hemisphere and that likely does not have enough on-the-ground experience to scrutinize the accounting or the delivery of the goods or project.  Mr. Perkins is skeptical of the development schemes that are drawn up in boardrooms of the big grant and loan-making organizations for the very reason that quite often those development dollars or loans do raise GNP and per capita income, but in some cases do more to exacerbate poverty and, I would add, to displace people leading to the creation of large urban ghettos, favelas, and barrios.          

So where do some volunteers fit in the large scheme of things?  During our Pre-Service Training, we were handed a big, thick yellow manual titled Roles of Volunteers in Development along with our Participatory Analysis for Community Action (PACA) tool book that attempted to clarify the Peace Corps mission.  Our program staff provided us with some insight of the artisana sector and previous volunteers shared their successes and challenges.  One thing that we were told repeatedly was that our role was not that of someone that should be doing the work for the community, but rather enabling the community to carry out the work.  We were told that we should view our role as a facilitator, someone that brings people and resources together.

Amina and Kawtar of Réseau d'Initiative des Femmes Marocaines

After a few months in site and after conducting some preliminary community assessments, a large number of volunteers realized how much power the middlemen/women had and decided to do something to balance the gains.  Our method to diminish the power and control was to empower our artisans with information, trainings, financial resources, and if need be, to serve as a middleman/woman ourselves.

My counterpart has benefited from these trainings and financial resources.  She said that the first volunteer, a fluent French speaker, helped her improve her conversational French tremendously, which opened other doors of opportunity.  When volunteers approached her about working on Camp GLOW, she was smart to know that one thing could lead to another.  This willingness to help led to meetings with prominent women business owners, gestures of goodwill from politicians seeking the support of her members, and an overall expansion of her business network.  She's been to the U.S. twice to participate in the 2009 and 2010 Santa Fe International Folk Art Market.  Through her masterful networking skills and because of her eagerness to learn, she has been able to cut out the middlemen from her business.  She doesn't rely on others for invites to various expos; she gets invited personally.  Had we not been there to provide the assistance (free-of-charge to her, but at the U.S. Treasury’s expense), I doubt she would have had this much success in such a short period time.  Her coop still faces many challenges as any typical business does.  Nonetheless, she's a great example of how grassroots development can take root in a community.

Volunteers across different sectors in health, environment, and youth development serve as facilitators as well.  Many have organized health screenings and AIDS awareness campaigns and testings, have brought resources to improve irrigation or plant trees, or to support a local short-film festival, or have invited people versed in women’s rights to educate women on the recent changes to the family code (Moudawana).  This year’s Camp GLOW was another good example of facilitators at work.  I and a few other volunteers worked to secure funding for the organizing association.  Once I linked the primary sponsor with the association, I stepped aside.  The accounting and the logistics were in the hands of the association.  The event had some successes and pitfalls.  Despite going over budget, by managing the bookkeeping this time around they also learned how to price future camps more accurately and the association is now more aware of funding opportunities for future camps.  I believe these efforts by various volunteers however big or small are making a difference.       

In Morocco, PCVs are going against the tide.  When a lot of young people are looking to move to the big city for university studies and work, volunteers are going the other way.  When a lot of young people are looking to improve their French, Spanish, English, or Fusha to enter into a prestigious school or improve their employment opportunities, volunteers are learning the colloquial Arabic or Tamazight dialects.  When a lot of Moroccan youth aspire to go to Europe or the U.S. to study, for employment, or better living conditions, a lot of us go to some of the most remote sites to endure the bitter cold, sweltering heat, blackout prone electricity, polluted water, stinky Turkish toilets, parasites, leaky roofs, and a host of other inconveniences that are normally not part of the climate-controlled and sanitized European and U.S. American lifestyle. 

Most business meetings are preceded or followed
 by a food-coma inducing meal

My mother shares many of the same sentiments that many Moroccans articulate.  They ask, “Why would you leave the comforts of the U.S. to live in a sub-developed country and why would you leave your salaried job for an unpaid one?”  Before I arrived to Morocco, I used to tell everyone, not knowing exactly what I was getting into and in true Peace Corps idealism, that I was going there to do my part to help people in whatever corner of the world I was sent to.  Now with two years into my Moroccan small business development experience, I tell people that I’m doing my best to bridge the urban and rural divide.  When I explain to my Moroccan friends what I do, I say something like, “Ana bHal kantara bin nas mn medina kbira wlla mn l-xarij ou bin nas f l3arobia”, which in my choppy Darija literally translates to 'I like bridge (kantara can also mean harmony) between people from big city or from abroad and people from the country'.  To which they respond, “Oh, so like a middleman, right?”  Right, but an unpaid one.  Upon hearing this, they say meskin (poor thing) and then they offer me some lunch.  I may not make money by linking people with resources, but I have had my share of couscous bribes.  Fortunately, until the infrastructure rolls in, I and other PCVs will continue to be the beneficiaries of this lopsided ordeal.  All I can say to all that are lucky to be chosen for this post is to enjoy it while you can.