Since I last posted, I have moved into my apartment and now have my own address in a country that is not America. I have a post office box and a Moroccan identity card. As you all know, this is my dream, or for the Paulo Coehlo lovers, my “personal legend.” Everything I have done in my life has lead me to this moment, in my apartment, alone, listening to the some of my favorite music, and attempting to capture my current situation in words. As I told a friend yesterday, everything starts to seem so normal that I find I have nothing to share. Then I remember that I was yet again woken last night by a braying donkey, and that sometimes I have to really think to remember the last day I took a shower. I am then reminded that for 34 years, I did not live my life this way. It was yesterday, by the way.
So while I have been blessed with this amazing life, I of course have frequent moments where I long to see all of your faces. My homesickness has become pervasive this week, starting with my attempt to write a toast for a wedding of close and dear friends. It revisited me when I received sad news from a friend at home, and then returned when another friend told me about new found love. My homesickness is magnified by the fact that tomorrow is Father’s Day, and I am sure that my parents, sisters, cousins, aunt, uncle, nephews, brother-in-law, and grandparents, will be sharing some of the day together. Note to self: Don’t listen to the Fray when feeling homesick.
On a happier note: A few weeks ago I was elected to serve on the Gender and Development Committee for Peace Corps Morocco. I have never “ran” for anything, so I was excited to be elected. When I gave my speech for election, I very much felt like a nervous 6th grader and told people that if they didn’t vote for me, I would never have the confidence to run for anything again . . . so apparently guilt tripping works in campaigning. Anyway, being fairly new to this, I don’t have too much to say about my role yet. I will attend quarterly meetings in Rabat to meet with other committee members and discuss these issues in relation to our role as Peace Corps volunteers, and how we may address these issues with youth in Morocco. On a selfish note, that means I get to learn more about gender roles in developing countries and have a beer in Rabat at least 3 times a year.
This past week, I sat in on a women’s literacy class. There are several very cool things I would like to mention about this class: 1. Girls in high school are the teachers. 2. Women of all ages attend.
3. WOMEN ARE LEARNING TO READ. All of us that can read (that would be all of you that are reading this right now) know what a gift it is. Only 58% of Moroccan men and women can read.
I also got to watch the same group, again taught by the high school girls, learn about AIDS. These opportunities are exactly why I wanted to be here.
I will not start to teach formal English classes until late September. Otherwise, I am getting acquainted with people in my community and spending time with kids at the Dar Chabab. This week I may be able accompany them to a neighboring community as they perform an AIDS prevention play.
Pictures of my apartment and community will be posted soon! Please don’t be disconcerted by my sad paragraph, it comes with the territory.
So while I have been blessed with this amazing life, I of course have frequent moments where I long to see all of your faces. My homesickness has become pervasive this week, starting with my attempt to write a toast for a wedding of close and dear friends. It revisited me when I received sad news from a friend at home, and then returned when another friend told me about new found love. My homesickness is magnified by the fact that tomorrow is Father’s Day, and I am sure that my parents, sisters, cousins, aunt, uncle, nephews, brother-in-law, and grandparents, will be sharing some of the day together. Note to self: Don’t listen to the Fray when feeling homesick.
On a happier note: A few weeks ago I was elected to serve on the Gender and Development Committee for Peace Corps Morocco. I have never “ran” for anything, so I was excited to be elected. When I gave my speech for election, I very much felt like a nervous 6th grader and told people that if they didn’t vote for me, I would never have the confidence to run for anything again . . . so apparently guilt tripping works in campaigning. Anyway, being fairly new to this, I don’t have too much to say about my role yet. I will attend quarterly meetings in Rabat to meet with other committee members and discuss these issues in relation to our role as Peace Corps volunteers, and how we may address these issues with youth in Morocco. On a selfish note, that means I get to learn more about gender roles in developing countries and have a beer in Rabat at least 3 times a year.
This past week, I sat in on a women’s literacy class. There are several very cool things I would like to mention about this class: 1. Girls in high school are the teachers. 2. Women of all ages attend.
3. WOMEN ARE LEARNING TO READ. All of us that can read (that would be all of you that are reading this right now) know what a gift it is. Only 58% of Moroccan men and women can read.
I also got to watch the same group, again taught by the high school girls, learn about AIDS. These opportunities are exactly why I wanted to be here.
I will not start to teach formal English classes until late September. Otherwise, I am getting acquainted with people in my community and spending time with kids at the Dar Chabab. This week I may be able accompany them to a neighboring community as they perform an AIDS prevention play.
Pictures of my apartment and community will be posted soon! Please don’t be disconcerted by my sad paragraph, it comes with the territory.
No comments:
Post a Comment