Yesterday, I learned how to draw an armadillo. For those of you that were worried, rest assured, I finally fulfilled this lifelong dream. It was an exciting moment that I experienced very much . . . alone.
Some of you are aware that I am living the life of a semi-retired 34-year old and you might wonder how I spend my time.
So, to fill you in, I have actually been doing a little work since the end of Ramadan. I coordinated a camp with other volunteers at my Dar Chabab. It was a blast, and after the camp was over, both my idealism and realism about my capabilties as a volunteer were realized. My good friend created a video about the camp confirming that we are indeed actually working in Morocco. I emailed the video to the Peace Corps Director, who in turn used it as a motivating training video for other volunteers. She also sent it to the American Embassy, and they would like to use it on their website.
I attended several trainings/workshops in September in Oarzazette, Marrakesh, and Rabat. In Oarzazette, I studied yet another language, TashelHit. TashelHit is a Berber language spoken in many regions in Morocco, including Massa. I love learning new languages, but TashelHit also carries the dreaded g-r gargle gurgle sound that is very challenging for foreigners (especially me) to make. I come from Wyoming, for $%#^ sakes. Every time I make the sound incorrectly, which is every time I make the sound, someone stretches out their neck and gargles at me in an attempt to teach me how to say it properly. Both Darija and TashelHit are heavily populated with this devil letter.
In Marrakesh, the most touristy city in Morocco, I was reunited with the 100 other volunteers that I came to the country with to attend a training workshop. Marrakesh is beautiful, but the lingering memory I have of this city is of monkeys on chains and starving horses. I am going back there next week, and hopefully I will come away with a more balanced view.
In Rabat, I attended a workshop with my Moroccan counterpart about teaching life skills to Moroccan youth. We hope to coordinate these activities in the spring, when my language skills are up to the challenge.
The first night I returned to my apartment, I was delighted to cook myself dinner and be alone. Several days later, things started to go south. Let me paint a picture: I spend almost all of my time alone when I am in Massa. I work in my apartment on lesson plans, studying, etc., and go to the Dar Chabab for 1-2 hours, some days I don't go at all. Hence, the armadillo. In an effort to maintain my sanity, I have created a list of daily activities: Study, exercise, go outside, do a chore, learn something new. The armadillo was my "something new" yesterday. Today, I learned to make apple sauce. Tomorrow, who knows? The world is my oyster.
Seriously though, good things do happen here. Cross Cultural Solutions, the organization in Rabat that I volunteered for 2 years ago, invited me to come and speak to their current volunteers. When I was riding in a taxi a couple weeks ago, the taxi driver told me "I am so happy that you are trying to learn my language." I am often greeted with excitement and appreciation when I attempt to speak Darija or TashelHit.
I don't want to get on a soap box, but with the current political climate, I believe even more strongly in being here. Chris Stevens, the American Ambassador that was killed recently in Libia, was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco in the 1980's. They recently had a day of remembrance for him in the community he lived in, and many expressed sadness at the events that lead to his death. Let me just say this: I am American, I am grateful for my many blessings. I live in an Arab nation and have many friends that are devout Muslims. Friends that have welcomed me into their homes and hearts with no questions asked. Friends that keep me safe, sheltered, and well-fed. Please remember this if you hear anyone making any disparaging remarks about Arab or Muslim peoples.
Oh, I also learned how to draw a platypus.
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