If you've read my Morocco blog and enjoyed it, I'm writing new content on another blog: http://naturalcapital1.blogspot.com/
Check it out.
Check it out.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
New Town
For the month of February, I'm living in a nearby big town to concentrate on STI education. It's strange to be staying here and not seeing my host family every day. My first few days have been pretty quiet. The weather has been bad and I've been feeling kind of sick. Tomorrow I should be out and about, getting to work.
In addition to the work, I'm taking advantage of the computer and Internet in the house I'm staying in to work on financial aid and scholarship stuff for grad school. Applying takes a LONG time and I'm losing patience for it.
The other big news is that, for some inexplicable reason, I have developed these sores on my chin. They're really a bother. The funny thing is that Moroccans tend to point them out...also, the word for pimples/sores literally means "holes." So I constantly get questions about the holes on my face. I've taken to wearing a scarf.
I'm at a loss for a good blog topic. Any suggestions are appreciated.
In addition to the work, I'm taking advantage of the computer and Internet in the house I'm staying in to work on financial aid and scholarship stuff for grad school. Applying takes a LONG time and I'm losing patience for it.
The other big news is that, for some inexplicable reason, I have developed these sores on my chin. They're really a bother. The funny thing is that Moroccans tend to point them out...also, the word for pimples/sores literally means "holes." So I constantly get questions about the holes on my face. I've taken to wearing a scarf.
I'm at a loss for a good blog topic. Any suggestions are appreciated.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A Project That Couldn't Have Gone Much Worse
Over a year ago I started talking with a local government official (Mohamed) about potential projects in the region. He mentioned that I should look into a running water project in a nearby village (Mountainville). He said that there was a good association to work with and that the project would be relatively simple. I went out with Mohamed to Mountainville to meet Brahim, the president of the association. We talked about the project and it seemed feasible, although very expensive. The kicker was the a local political figure, with access to money (Haddu) was interested in helping financing the project for political reasons.
Later, Mohamed, Brahim, a technician from the commune, and I went out to the spring near Mountainville to do an estimate on the project. The technician's estimate came out very expensive: 320,000 Dh ($40,000). This seemed to be way more than I could possibly pull together (maximum PC grant to volunteers is $3,500). But then myself and Haddu had a conversation and he thought he could put forward $33,500. SO I wrote a grant, begged my parents for money, and scrapped together some other money.
The grant money came in early April. Haddu wanted to get the project started before elections in June, so I I thought the project would be hurried along. Instead, everyone I was working with started. We finally put the money in a special bank account, allowing for it to be accessed after a public bidding between contractors. But they kept delaying. I went to America for vacation, the elections happened, which removed any political motivation for Haddu to work on the project.
However, everyone kept acting like the project was moving forward. I finally figured out that they were lying to me, so I tried to retrieve the money from the account. I found out that I could not withdraw the money without the presence of Haddu or Brahim. I went and talked to them and they told me that, due to some bureaucratic paperwork, they couldn't access the money now. Mohamed confirmed this with me and told me to be patient (this is in June). So I waited.
After a couple months, PC started getting impatient, so I had them call Haddu. After talking with Haddu, PC told me I would have to wait a little while longer. More time passed. Haddu moved to a different city. Everytime I called him, he told me that the problem was almost fixed. I went to the biggest authority in Tounfite and had him call Haddu. They told me the problem was almost taken care of. I was a little worried that the association was trying to steal the money, but it seemed unlikely because it would be very easy to send them to jail if they did.
PC eventually got fed up and told me to threaten Haddu and Brahim with the police. That got them moving. We met in Tounfite on Monday at the Ministry of Interior to sort out paperwork. My understanding was that we would be able to go to the bank that day to get the money, but it turned out some papers still had to be sent to Midelt for processing. 7.5 months after I told them to get the money, and they still hadn't finished the paperwork. They said that on Thursday we would talk again and figure out a time to go to the bank together to pick up the money.
Instead, on Thursday they called to say they had the money and were coming to Tounfite. When we met up, they were very unhappy with me. I had told the Ministry of Interior that PC thought they were thieves. I had called them out to the most important people in Tounfite and they weren't happy about it. I let them know just how unhappy I was with them and that all of their problems were of their own making. We were having this conversation in a cramped pickup truck. I have never in my life experienced such open hatred between myself and another person. We finally got around to counting the money. There was suppossed to be 52,240 DHs, but there was only 50,000. I got a little angrier. They said the money had "tarwwla" (it escaped). I asked what that meant. They said I had to pay them for all the hassle and transportation costs. Even though I thought it was absurd that I would pay for their transportation costs in order to fix a problem that they had caused by their own stupid decisions, I was prepared to give them some money. But I was thinking 200 Dhs, not 2,000. They told me that if I didn't give them their cut, then I wouldn't get any money and I'd have to go to the police.
So we started going through their expenses line by line. Each expense the got bolder about inflating the cost. Nonetheless, I knocked over 1,000 Dhs off the price that they had estimated, which they gave back to me. 51,000 of 52,240 Dhs recovered. I hated being ripped off for 1,200 Dhs, but it gave me some clarity: I was right to call them thieves.
I made some mistakes, most of them typical development mistakes. First, I got myself involved in politics, supporting a politician who I later discovered to be corrupt. Second, I later learned that the town had a well, but that the men were too cheap to pay the electricity for the pump. If I community values water that little, I shouldn't push it. Finally, I was operating in a system that I didn't understand with people that I didn't know very well.
The most disappointing part of the project is that it didn't go through: it would have brought running water to 800 people. Although the men aren't willing to pay for it, it's the women who would have benefited (they're the ones that collect water).
If this were my only project, it would have been a major disappointment. Luckily, I've got other projects that are going well. This project has turned me off of infrastructure projects and made me favor knowledge based/training projects.
All is well...take care.
Later, Mohamed, Brahim, a technician from the commune, and I went out to the spring near Mountainville to do an estimate on the project. The technician's estimate came out very expensive: 320,000 Dh ($40,000). This seemed to be way more than I could possibly pull together (maximum PC grant to volunteers is $3,500). But then myself and Haddu had a conversation and he thought he could put forward $33,500. SO I wrote a grant, begged my parents for money, and scrapped together some other money.
The grant money came in early April. Haddu wanted to get the project started before elections in June, so I I thought the project would be hurried along. Instead, everyone I was working with started. We finally put the money in a special bank account, allowing for it to be accessed after a public bidding between contractors. But they kept delaying. I went to America for vacation, the elections happened, which removed any political motivation for Haddu to work on the project.
However, everyone kept acting like the project was moving forward. I finally figured out that they were lying to me, so I tried to retrieve the money from the account. I found out that I could not withdraw the money without the presence of Haddu or Brahim. I went and talked to them and they told me that, due to some bureaucratic paperwork, they couldn't access the money now. Mohamed confirmed this with me and told me to be patient (this is in June). So I waited.
After a couple months, PC started getting impatient, so I had them call Haddu. After talking with Haddu, PC told me I would have to wait a little while longer. More time passed. Haddu moved to a different city. Everytime I called him, he told me that the problem was almost fixed. I went to the biggest authority in Tounfite and had him call Haddu. They told me the problem was almost taken care of. I was a little worried that the association was trying to steal the money, but it seemed unlikely because it would be very easy to send them to jail if they did.
PC eventually got fed up and told me to threaten Haddu and Brahim with the police. That got them moving. We met in Tounfite on Monday at the Ministry of Interior to sort out paperwork. My understanding was that we would be able to go to the bank that day to get the money, but it turned out some papers still had to be sent to Midelt for processing. 7.5 months after I told them to get the money, and they still hadn't finished the paperwork. They said that on Thursday we would talk again and figure out a time to go to the bank together to pick up the money.
Instead, on Thursday they called to say they had the money and were coming to Tounfite. When we met up, they were very unhappy with me. I had told the Ministry of Interior that PC thought they were thieves. I had called them out to the most important people in Tounfite and they weren't happy about it. I let them know just how unhappy I was with them and that all of their problems were of their own making. We were having this conversation in a cramped pickup truck. I have never in my life experienced such open hatred between myself and another person. We finally got around to counting the money. There was suppossed to be 52,240 DHs, but there was only 50,000. I got a little angrier. They said the money had "tarwwla" (it escaped). I asked what that meant. They said I had to pay them for all the hassle and transportation costs. Even though I thought it was absurd that I would pay for their transportation costs in order to fix a problem that they had caused by their own stupid decisions, I was prepared to give them some money. But I was thinking 200 Dhs, not 2,000. They told me that if I didn't give them their cut, then I wouldn't get any money and I'd have to go to the police.
So we started going through their expenses line by line. Each expense the got bolder about inflating the cost. Nonetheless, I knocked over 1,000 Dhs off the price that they had estimated, which they gave back to me. 51,000 of 52,240 Dhs recovered. I hated being ripped off for 1,200 Dhs, but it gave me some clarity: I was right to call them thieves.
I made some mistakes, most of them typical development mistakes. First, I got myself involved in politics, supporting a politician who I later discovered to be corrupt. Second, I later learned that the town had a well, but that the men were too cheap to pay the electricity for the pump. If I community values water that little, I shouldn't push it. Finally, I was operating in a system that I didn't understand with people that I didn't know very well.
The most disappointing part of the project is that it didn't go through: it would have brought running water to 800 people. Although the men aren't willing to pay for it, it's the women who would have benefited (they're the ones that collect water).
If this were my only project, it would have been a major disappointment. Luckily, I've got other projects that are going well. This project has turned me off of infrastructure projects and made me favor knowledge based/training projects.
All is well...take care.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Foreign Affairs Letter to the Editor
First, thanks to Colton for last week's post. To answer Patti's question, Atman, according to my host father, means "hunger." It was (and continues to be) a joke with my host family that his name means hunger. However, no other Moroccan was able to corroborate this claim.
Second, I'm getting back into the swing of things after the vacation, which is good. There is lots of work going on. I'm preparing for a move to Boumia for the month of February.
Finally, I got a letter to the editor published in Foreign Affairs. You can read the letter at http://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/65889/david-a-balton-duncan-gromko/cooling-the-climate
I should have a substantial, original post up in a few days.
Second, I'm getting back into the swing of things after the vacation, which is good. There is lots of work going on. I'm preparing for a move to Boumia for the month of February.
Finally, I got a letter to the editor published in Foreign Affairs. You can read the letter at http://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/65889/david-a-balton-duncan-gromko/cooling-the-climate
I should have a substantial, original post up in a few days.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Dizzle Blog Entry
I've spent most of the last month - my Winter Break, in exploration of the diverse landscapes of Morocco. Flying into Fez, I reunited with my roommate from Swarthmore and creator of this blog to form one of the tallest, whitest, and most boring travel groups ever to grace this California-sized Kingdom in the Northwest of Africa. (You may recall our last journey in a California-sized area of land: http://coltdizz.blogspot.com) Were it not for Duncan setting up camp there, I don't think Morocco would have been on my radar, so I am grateful for the mind-opening experience this trip had to offer. As an avid reader of the blog, I wanted to see some of the rawness up close with the guy who so vividly wrote about it and could guide me seamlessly through it with an exceptional knowledge of a language that is expected to largely die out this century. Such a guide could cost thousands, so I was fortunate to get a friend deal for which this lousy blog entry hopefully serves as sufficient compensation.
Outside the Fez airport, I was immediately struck by the litter, dirt, and general haphazard of life outside the "new villes" of the large cities of Morocco (which were more in line with Southern Europe). This is the least developed country I have spent much time in, yet we were still able to drink the tap water everywhere. It would take some time to get used to the Moroccan hygiene, especially the norms associated with eating and expelling. Our first meal was in the medina (old city) in a small "hole in the wall" that looked like it had been converted from a bathroom into a restaurant. We ate some delicious fried fish and bean soup and as always, lots of bread. Bread in Morocco is like rice in Korea, where people believe you haven't really eaten a meal unless you've eaten it. There is only one glass for water on each table and it was on the table when you arrived, so you can be sure it is dirty. Also, people wash their hands after they eat, not before, almost everything is eaten without utensils and soap is rarely used. This place should be a swine flu catastrophe according to the information from the mainstream media. There is also an abundance of wild cats roaming streets, bus stations and other facilities. There are beggars, but not an overwhelming amount, and we have rocks thrown at us by a group of boys after we try to play soccer with them but do not give them any of our chicken pitas. We visited the leather tanning factory in Fez which has been in operation for hundreds of years and still uses the same process of tanning with a pidgeon-shit mixture. Needless to say, it stinks and the whole open air factory is a huge, muddy mess. It is amazing that they are able to turn such a mess into the beautiful bags and purses found hanging in all the shops. Is this really the same leather?
Morocco was also my first immersion into a Muslim culture. This hit me hard at about 5:30 am the first morning with the "call to prayer" from the minaret which was literally next door to our hotel. I am told that this is one of the more elaborate calls to prayer and it goes on for an eternity, maybe twenty minutes. Initially, it was a startling and creepy way to wake up, but I got more used to it. The day's first call to prayer is supposed to occur at the first light (not sunrise), which is stated as the moment at which one can discern a black string from a white one. We joke about the poor guy who drew the short straw and got stuck with that job. The pun is intended. Our other major sight to visit in Fez is the Islamic school which possess some of the greatest Islamic calligraphy found anywhere. This was actually supposed to be for our art historian Michelle, who couldn't make it on the trip, so I tried my hardest to stay interested at this point. It was nice to be able to go into the school though, as non-believers are not able to go into the mosques. We met a crazy guy in there who claimed to know Duncan and said I looked like his son with my brown fleece coat on. I learned the hand signal for crazy - slightly different than the American one. We would have plenty of opportunities to use this signal.
The next day we headed out on the expensive bus up North to Chefchaouen, one of the two major hippie hangouts in Morocco. Its location in the hash-field-covered Rif Mountains does a lot to explain its hippie culture. Chefchaouen literally means "look at the peaks", and where we could, they were amazing. Unfortunately, in the winter it is cloudy and rainy here a lot of the time. We did manage one decent day which allowed us to hike up into the Rif a little and get up on top of a rock. Duncan informs me that the Rif have the highest rate of erosion in the world and it is easy to see that the existence of hash-farming (supplying over 40% of the global market) is a major driver of this. There are no peace corps volunteers placed in this region, also as a result of the hash controversy. The scenery is spectacular with steep, green mountains and giant, crooked rocks. We pass a shantytown on the way down that appears to be built into the side of a cliff on the river gorge. The water here is fresh and delicious, and bottle and shipped all over the country. Where the river enters the top of the town there is a nice communal area with a small dam, bathing area, water diversions to drinking water treatment, sinks for doing laundry and waterfalls. We bought some bread, olives, and a huge chunk of the locally-famous goat cheese and came down to the river for a great lunch break. We got to speak a lot of Spanish in "Chaouen" due to the Spanish influence here and some Spanish girls we met in the hostel. The city is also known for its blue and white painted buildings which felt a bit like walking through a Dr. Seuss book at times. Our hotel was pretty cool as well with decorated tile everywhere, a large central atrium and a roof terrace overlooking the lower areas of the city. Due to the rain, we spent a lot of time inside it with our favorite past time, the Chinese game Go.
The next journey was a long slog to Duncan's village in the High Atlas - Agoudim. Getting there was an introduction to the common folk's transport system of dirty buses and cramped grand taxis. We transferred through about six different towns, met a few peace corps volunteers along the way and stayed at one's house. We got into the village about 30 hours after we left Chefchaouen. One leg of the journey stands out in my mind as particularly memorable and hazardous. We were stuffed into a grand taxi (an old Mercedes sedan) with 5 others on a 90 minute trip through a huge rain storm with the sun going down and lots of cars to pass and tailgate and rivers across the road to hydroplane on and the traditional Berber music blaring through the tape deck - composed of traditional strings and drum beats and electronicized voices creating a trance state. Other factors working against our survival were a lack of a window-defrosting method other than the driver's hand, the driver's changing of cassette tapes at impossible times and he even pulled out the cellphone and made a call in the middle of a particularly dangerous stretch. The whole trip was a back seat driver's nightmare and all we could do was close our eyes or look out the side windows. After this particular leg I had enormous confidence in the Moroccan cabbies. In general, I found the transport system to be cheap, efficient, dirty and uncomfortable. The buses are slow (too many stops) and the taxis are FAST (depending on the driver). We stayed in Midelt that evening before reaching the village and headed to the only nightlife available in most towns - the cafe - to sip some sugary tea and watch Spanish league futbol on TV. That night Duncan warned me that we were entering conservative Morocco and would have to be more conscious of our actions. This worried me a little having thought that we had been pretty conservative in our actions thus far.
We awoke the next morning and traveled to Tounfite, the nearest legitimate settlement to the village. We began with the insanity and pure formality of Berber greetings which consist of about ten exchanges of phrases like "how are you?" "are you well?" "are you at peace?" "how's your family?", etc. and each have a standard reply. They are also very keen on the handshake though it is a flimsy one and you have to kiss your finger or hit your chest after giving it. I believe there is a great earlier post about how most of the conversations Duncan has are pretty much the same. He was told in his village that he is a great politician because he knows exactly what to say in every situation. He certainly struck me as a politician as we walked down the main street of Tounfite and he shook hands with men, women, sons and daughters, introducing me, and always having the cookie-cutter response for everything thrown at him. It often felt as though Moroccans were testing him by firing greetings at him rapidly and he was always quick with the response, sometimes getting it in before they were done speaking. Everywhere we went the people loved Duncan for speaking Tamazight and they often claimed to be giving us "good deals" because of it. It was at the souk (farmer's market) here that I received my Arabic name - Atman, from a clever vegetable peddler. The souk was a huge mudpit with mostly fruits, vegetables and shoes for sale. There was not too much variety for foods, perhaps because of the season, and they did not seem to be particularly Moroccan. For vegetables there were huge potatoes, onions, carrots, turnips, peppers, huge squash. For fruits there were mandarins, bananas, tomatoes, sickly apples. Upon fulfilling Duncan's host-parents shopping list, we jumped on the packed van heading out to the village. On board we were greeted and barraged with questions: "Do you have marriage certificates in the US?", "Can I see an American Dollar?", and "Do you drink alcohol?" The last one they were particularly interested in as it is illegal for Moroccans to consume alcohol and there is widespread belief that it makes you fat.
In Agoudim, the politician made his rounds and we dined with the host parents several times and once with another family. We made a nice hike in the afternoon along a ridge of one the lower hills and pondered the conditions on top of the large peaks where, I was surprised to learn, some herders climb to graze their goats. Despite being up in the high mountains and about an hour's drive from the nearest sizable town, we were in no way out of civilization. Two cell phone towers could be seen from up on our ridge, as well as power lines and satellite dishes on many of the homes. Only the connection to the world wide web was missing here and this actually made its first appearance in the post office on the day we left! The satellite dishes indicate a phenomenon I certainly didn't expect. I was shocked to learn that these rural, poor, isolated Berbers shared the same favorite pastime as most Americans - staring at the TV. We watched a few soccer games on Duncan's TV, and struggled through Arabic and French news and soap operas as guests in other's homes. Furthermore, Duncan informed me, most of these people don't understand Arabic or French, only Berber (for which there is only one or two part-time stations), so they didn't even understand what was going on! Never underestimate the power of TV. Along with the cold and relative isolation, another factor makes this a very difficult place to live: the food. There is an enormous lack of variety in the food these people are eating here. Their ingredients seem tasty enough: wheat, chicken, goat, potatoes, carrots, turnips, fruits, olive oil, jam. But, these are pretty much all the ingredients they make into every dish every day. Bread is the big deal, and is eaten with every meal and eaten alone for breakfast. Lunch is the big meal and it's typically Duez which is a meat and vegetable stew cooked in the famous Tajine ceramic dish. It is pretty good if it is cooked well, but not good enough to eat every day (like In N Out Burger), also the method for eating it is quite dirty as there is a communal pot and you only have bread and your fingers to eat with. You are supposed to use the bread to scoop up vegetables and sauce which works kind of well but invariably fingers and bread flakes are contaminating the whole thing. The worst part comes after the vegetables are finished because it is time for the meat. Someone takes the entire hunk of meat out of the bowl, sets it on the dirty table, and starts dividing it into piles by tearing it off the bones and separating it into piles for everyone. These piles also include mystery parts and organs of the animal and your portion arrives in a greasy, dirty hand set on the dirty table in front of you. While the meat looked good in the dish, now it is easily the worst part of the meal. It's also critical that you finish your meat as it is the "luxury" of the dish. Once when I just couldn't stomach finishing the meat they made Duncan finish it for me. Much gratitude. It's not that I am against communal eating, let's just keep our hands out of it and use utensils like the Koreans or Chinese. It's not that I am against eating with hands, just let me touch my own food and you touch your own food. It's not that the Berbers are bad people, they were extremely welcoming and friendly, they are just doing things the way they were taught and have done for a long time. The Peace Corps encourages new volunteers to cook a meal or two for their host families so I asked several volunteers about their experiences. Host families didn't have a taste for pizza, used their hands to eat spaghetti and hated it, and even Duncan's simple vegetable soup was scoffed at by a friend. I kept thinking that these people would love nachos (they could eat communally and with their hands), but the ingredients might be hard to attain. I feel it is also pertinent to point out the status and location of Duncan's humble abode. Placed directly in the center of town, next to the road and "bus stop", it is also right next to the mosque where the minaret makes the call to prayer five times daily. This location is perfect for the politician but terrible for privacy. It is extremely convenient to visit him (and people do), it is loud from the minaret and anyone can see him come and go, hang out his laundry, etc. The home is a simple two room mud home with an uninspiring kitchen and drafty sleeping room. It is cold in there! Thank Allah for the stove. After leaving Duncan's village everything else seemed pretty luxurious and I was no longer thrown by the primitive things.
The next stopping point was the Sahara where we landed in the town of Merzouga and sought a camel trek to take us out into the desert for the night of Christmas Eve. It was a painful 1-2 hour camel ride out, but beautiful and surreal. I recall thinking the entire time "I can't believe I am in the desert." Following the previous trips' camel droppings and our guide, we made our way out to the camp in the middle of three giant sand dunes. We climbed to the top of one, which was much harder than it looked. We were joined later by a Chinese-Australian couple from Hong Kong on their honeymoon. We had a nice chat and they played the new Britney Spears hit on their new iPhone while we lounged in the tent reminiscent of baby jesus's manger. That night it rained a little (in the desert!) and we walked in the pitch black to find out where the music we heard was coming from. We found the other camp and were greeted to come in and eat chocolate and jam in the drum circle. Unfortunately, the visuals were lacking for our trip as there wasn't much of a sunset or sunrise when we were in the desert, nor were there any stars to see. Awaking early, we reluctantly saddled up again and slogged back to civilization for a shower to get the sand out.
We bussed on to get to the city of Tinghir where we stayed with Duncan's host-mom's family, who are relatively rich for that part of the country. They had a nice three-story house built by her brother with gorgeous Casablancan tile, a three-story atrium/breezeway for summer cooling, and a spectacular roof terrace. We stayed three nights here and were put up in the lavishly decorated entertaining room for the men with mats and eight warm wool blankets each. Her sisters cooked great food (though I was still quite sick of the traditional 2 dishes), and they even made a salad plate for me after I started feeling ill from some food poisoning from the previous city. We had actually planned to only stay for two nights but when we told them this they dead-seriously refused and said that when guests come they have to stay for a MINIMUM of 3 nights. That was alright with us, though, as the digs were comfortable, we saved money, and we had more time to focus on the main attraction of that area - the amazing river gorges from Indiana Jones. The first day we taxied to the Todgha Gorge where we ran into another volunteer with his parents, and we took Duncan's host-cousin hiking. The little guy turned out to be more of a fisherman than a hiker and we didn't make it to the top of the gorge. He also wanted to give our food away to a poor family in the hills whose home we passed on the way. That day happened to be the tenth day of the Muslim year, on which we learned that the Koran says you must give 2.5% of your total assets to the poor. We're not sure if this is the reason for his generosity, though after collecting all our trash into the bag he took it and threw it up towards their home in their extended "yard". The environment was the trash can for most places we went in Morocco due to both attitude and a lack of collection systems. The only garbage truck I can recall seeing was a mule in the Fez medina on the last day. The next day we traveled a little further to see the other gorge. It was just the two of us, so we hiked to the top and hung our feet over the edge at lunchtime. The drive out to this gorge was spectacular and we saw several other places, including the "finger rocks", where we would have liked to spend a lot more time exploring. Unfortunately, we had to start heading towards the coast so we could get there in time for the new year.
On the way to the Atlantic we took two long bus rides stopping in between for a night in Ouarzazate where we accidentally stayed in a hotel/brothel and drank the most glorious fresh juice smoothies ever mixed. We loved them so much we visited the shop three times in under 24 hours. The bus ride from there to the beach city of Agadir was the worst of the trip. The seats were so close that I could not physically sit down and put my legs in front of me. This bus was, of course, the longest trip as well, rounding out about 8 hours and totally packed for the majority of the time and winding through mountain passes at the beginning while stopping frequently for the last two hours. Needless to say, we were relieved like a balking starting pitcher to make it to Agadir for a mildly warm evening with the ten other peace corps volunteers. We met up at our rental house and went down for falafel and humus (which is apparently considered Lebanese food) on the boardwalk. The next few days, the rest of the volunteers seemed to spend a lot of time in the rental house while we got out on the town and walked and walked and walked. We spent some quality time at the dirty beach where I jumped in a short 7 v 7 soccer game. We didn't swim in the water because of its filth and the undercurrent warnings. Upon Duncan entering the water a Moroccan came racing towards me yelling "no, no, don't go in the water!" I told him it's okay, "not swimming, only toilet." He said, "oh, that's fine then," and then proceeded to tell me about how three drunk tourists were swept away by the undertow yesterday. I said "really, just yesterday?" To which he replied "well, some time ago." We walked down to the fish stalls, where we ate some delicious fried calamari, and then climbed the hill where the old city used to stand. It was destroyed in an earthquake sometime last century and instead of rebuilding they covered it with all the bodies inside and rebuilt down the hill! We stopped off for a happy hour beer at the Korean restaurant where business was slow, likely because it's only sign was in Korean. On New Year's Eve we were out with several volunteers, including a girl from Duncan's hometown (there was also one that had worked at the same golf course as I in Port Ludlow, WA), and went down to the boardwalk for the fireworks. I got wet in the ocean soon thereafter so we had to return home early where a dance party had broken out in the living room. It was composed of a bunch of people sitting around on the couch and one girl yelling at people to get them to come dance. Duncan showed a few of his moves and the housekeeper came and knocked on the door to quiet us down every couple minutes. That's a lot of detail.
When we got sick of paying too much for sleeping on a couch with no blankets, we headed north to the other hippie joint Essaouira, where Jimi Hendrix posted up for a brief period of time. This town was such a relief from the sprawling, touristy Agadir. Essouira has a nice compact medina out on a peninsula overlooking a beautiful beach and nice fishing boat harbor. In the morning we watched the fishing boats come into port and unload the catch. At lunch we returned to get mildly ripped off and eat some of it. We stayed in a disgustingly damp, moldy-smelling room in an out of order riad that seemed to be operating illegally. It was the only place that we had to pay up front, but we named our price. Following the guidebook's directions, we rambled through the streets of Essaouira and we rambled hard for two whole days. We had little aim, if some food looked good we bought it cheap, we tried to play videogames with some little kids, we played beach soccer and watched the kiteboarders, we watched futbol in the cafe and sunsets from the ramparts. It would have been nice to stay longer if we had more time, a better room, and something to do other than rambling. Call me a dirty hippie, but the town had a cool vibe like Chefchaouen, except trading the mountains for the beach.
As all tourists do, we had to go to Marrakesh. Here, the enormous town square is a UNESCO site due to the market, people and culture. Mi amigo scoffed at the idea of a UNESCO site without historical or architectural significance, as did I initially. Of course we were impressed by the 15 Euro / kg dates and had to savor a quarter kilo. As the sun went down, however, the square began changing from chaotic masses to an organized market of food and culture. The food stands were built up into groups that focused on a particular dish or two. On the outskirts were the tasty fifty cent orange juice stands. Moving inward we encountered the escargot stands, tajine and couscous restaurants, soups and even the sheep brains. The other half of the square was filled with Berber musicians, storytellers and other strange types of entertainers that braved the cold to share culture and make a buck in donation. I imagine this scene would have been much larger were it not for the bitter wind that forced us in after a short visit. We went, instead, for a Hindi film at the only movie theater I saw during the whole trip. It was a horror/suspense movie with all the choreographed song and dance of Bollywood that neither of us could finish, though we left separately.
After only one night in Marrakesh we packed out of our sardine tin of a hotel room and caught the spacious train back to Fez passing through Casablanca, Rabat and Meknes for an eight hour journey in total. In Fez we came full circle by returning to our first hotel and the converted-bathroom restaurant and by getting owned by the early morning call to prayer. We finally got our gaming in a Playstation 2 parlor where we played Pro Evo Soccer for 1 Euro / hr while some 16 year old kids tried incessantly to sell us hash and the middle-aged owner took off his jacket to pile drive one of his mischievous young customers. The next morning we said our farewells and, after a two-day layover in freezing Madrid, I returned back to the dead of Norwegian winter to start classes and reflect on the warm Moroccan sun and the trip of a lifetime.
I've spent most of the last month - my Winter Break, in exploration of the diverse landscapes of Morocco. Flying into Fez, I reunited with my roommate from Swarthmore and creator of this blog to form one of the tallest, whitest, and most boring travel groups ever to grace this California-sized Kingdom in the Northwest of Africa. (You may recall our last journey in a California-sized area of land: http://coltdizz.blogspot.com) Were it not for Duncan setting up camp there, I don't think Morocco would have been on my radar, so I am grateful for the mind-opening experience this trip had to offer. As an avid reader of the blog, I wanted to see some of the rawness up close with the guy who so vividly wrote about it and could guide me seamlessly through it with an exceptional knowledge of a language that is expected to largely die out this century. Such a guide could cost thousands, so I was fortunate to get a friend deal for which this lousy blog entry hopefully serves as sufficient compensation.
Outside the Fez airport, I was immediately struck by the litter, dirt, and general haphazard of life outside the "new villes" of the large cities of Morocco (which were more in line with Southern Europe). This is the least developed country I have spent much time in, yet we were still able to drink the tap water everywhere. It would take some time to get used to the Moroccan hygiene, especially the norms associated with eating and expelling. Our first meal was in the medina (old city) in a small "hole in the wall" that looked like it had been converted from a bathroom into a restaurant. We ate some delicious fried fish and bean soup and as always, lots of bread. Bread in Morocco is like rice in Korea, where people believe you haven't really eaten a meal unless you've eaten it. There is only one glass for water on each table and it was on the table when you arrived, so you can be sure it is dirty. Also, people wash their hands after they eat, not before, almost everything is eaten without utensils and soap is rarely used. This place should be a swine flu catastrophe according to the information from the mainstream media. There is also an abundance of wild cats roaming streets, bus stations and other facilities. There are beggars, but not an overwhelming amount, and we have rocks thrown at us by a group of boys after we try to play soccer with them but do not give them any of our chicken pitas. We visited the leather tanning factory in Fez which has been in operation for hundreds of years and still uses the same process of tanning with a pidgeon-shit mixture. Needless to say, it stinks and the whole open air factory is a huge, muddy mess. It is amazing that they are able to turn such a mess into the beautiful bags and purses found hanging in all the shops. Is this really the same leather?
Morocco was also my first immersion into a Muslim culture. This hit me hard at about 5:30 am the first morning with the "call to prayer" from the minaret which was literally next door to our hotel. I am told that this is one of the more elaborate calls to prayer and it goes on for an eternity, maybe twenty minutes. Initially, it was a startling and creepy way to wake up, but I got more used to it. The day's first call to prayer is supposed to occur at the first light (not sunrise), which is stated as the moment at which one can discern a black string from a white one. We joke about the poor guy who drew the short straw and got stuck with that job. The pun is intended. Our other major sight to visit in Fez is the Islamic school which possess some of the greatest Islamic calligraphy found anywhere. This was actually supposed to be for our art historian Michelle, who couldn't make it on the trip, so I tried my hardest to stay interested at this point. It was nice to be able to go into the school though, as non-believers are not able to go into the mosques. We met a crazy guy in there who claimed to know Duncan and said I looked like his son with my brown fleece coat on. I learned the hand signal for crazy - slightly different than the American one. We would have plenty of opportunities to use this signal.
The next day we headed out on the expensive bus up North to Chefchaouen, one of the two major hippie hangouts in Morocco. Its location in the hash-field-covered Rif Mountains does a lot to explain its hippie culture. Chefchaouen literally means "look at the peaks", and where we could, they were amazing. Unfortunately, in the winter it is cloudy and rainy here a lot of the time. We did manage one decent day which allowed us to hike up into the Rif a little and get up on top of a rock. Duncan informs me that the Rif have the highest rate of erosion in the world and it is easy to see that the existence of hash-farming (supplying over 40% of the global market) is a major driver of this. There are no peace corps volunteers placed in this region, also as a result of the hash controversy. The scenery is spectacular with steep, green mountains and giant, crooked rocks. We pass a shantytown on the way down that appears to be built into the side of a cliff on the river gorge. The water here is fresh and delicious, and bottle and shipped all over the country. Where the river enters the top of the town there is a nice communal area with a small dam, bathing area, water diversions to drinking water treatment, sinks for doing laundry and waterfalls. We bought some bread, olives, and a huge chunk of the locally-famous goat cheese and came down to the river for a great lunch break. We got to speak a lot of Spanish in "Chaouen" due to the Spanish influence here and some Spanish girls we met in the hostel. The city is also known for its blue and white painted buildings which felt a bit like walking through a Dr. Seuss book at times. Our hotel was pretty cool as well with decorated tile everywhere, a large central atrium and a roof terrace overlooking the lower areas of the city. Due to the rain, we spent a lot of time inside it with our favorite past time, the Chinese game Go.
The next journey was a long slog to Duncan's village in the High Atlas - Agoudim. Getting there was an introduction to the common folk's transport system of dirty buses and cramped grand taxis. We transferred through about six different towns, met a few peace corps volunteers along the way and stayed at one's house. We got into the village about 30 hours after we left Chefchaouen. One leg of the journey stands out in my mind as particularly memorable and hazardous. We were stuffed into a grand taxi (an old Mercedes sedan) with 5 others on a 90 minute trip through a huge rain storm with the sun going down and lots of cars to pass and tailgate and rivers across the road to hydroplane on and the traditional Berber music blaring through the tape deck - composed of traditional strings and drum beats and electronicized voices creating a trance state. Other factors working against our survival were a lack of a window-defrosting method other than the driver's hand, the driver's changing of cassette tapes at impossible times and he even pulled out the cellphone and made a call in the middle of a particularly dangerous stretch. The whole trip was a back seat driver's nightmare and all we could do was close our eyes or look out the side windows. After this particular leg I had enormous confidence in the Moroccan cabbies. In general, I found the transport system to be cheap, efficient, dirty and uncomfortable. The buses are slow (too many stops) and the taxis are FAST (depending on the driver). We stayed in Midelt that evening before reaching the village and headed to the only nightlife available in most towns - the cafe - to sip some sugary tea and watch Spanish league futbol on TV. That night Duncan warned me that we were entering conservative Morocco and would have to be more conscious of our actions. This worried me a little having thought that we had been pretty conservative in our actions thus far.
We awoke the next morning and traveled to Tounfite, the nearest legitimate settlement to the village. We began with the insanity and pure formality of Berber greetings which consist of about ten exchanges of phrases like "how are you?" "are you well?" "are you at peace?" "how's your family?", etc. and each have a standard reply. They are also very keen on the handshake though it is a flimsy one and you have to kiss your finger or hit your chest after giving it. I believe there is a great earlier post about how most of the conversations Duncan has are pretty much the same. He was told in his village that he is a great politician because he knows exactly what to say in every situation. He certainly struck me as a politician as we walked down the main street of Tounfite and he shook hands with men, women, sons and daughters, introducing me, and always having the cookie-cutter response for everything thrown at him. It often felt as though Moroccans were testing him by firing greetings at him rapidly and he was always quick with the response, sometimes getting it in before they were done speaking. Everywhere we went the people loved Duncan for speaking Tamazight and they often claimed to be giving us "good deals" because of it. It was at the souk (farmer's market) here that I received my Arabic name - Atman, from a clever vegetable peddler. The souk was a huge mudpit with mostly fruits, vegetables and shoes for sale. There was not too much variety for foods, perhaps because of the season, and they did not seem to be particularly Moroccan. For vegetables there were huge potatoes, onions, carrots, turnips, peppers, huge squash. For fruits there were mandarins, bananas, tomatoes, sickly apples. Upon fulfilling Duncan's host-parents shopping list, we jumped on the packed van heading out to the village. On board we were greeted and barraged with questions: "Do you have marriage certificates in the US?", "Can I see an American Dollar?", and "Do you drink alcohol?" The last one they were particularly interested in as it is illegal for Moroccans to consume alcohol and there is widespread belief that it makes you fat.
In Agoudim, the politician made his rounds and we dined with the host parents several times and once with another family. We made a nice hike in the afternoon along a ridge of one the lower hills and pondered the conditions on top of the large peaks where, I was surprised to learn, some herders climb to graze their goats. Despite being up in the high mountains and about an hour's drive from the nearest sizable town, we were in no way out of civilization. Two cell phone towers could be seen from up on our ridge, as well as power lines and satellite dishes on many of the homes. Only the connection to the world wide web was missing here and this actually made its first appearance in the post office on the day we left! The satellite dishes indicate a phenomenon I certainly didn't expect. I was shocked to learn that these rural, poor, isolated Berbers shared the same favorite pastime as most Americans - staring at the TV. We watched a few soccer games on Duncan's TV, and struggled through Arabic and French news and soap operas as guests in other's homes. Furthermore, Duncan informed me, most of these people don't understand Arabic or French, only Berber (for which there is only one or two part-time stations), so they didn't even understand what was going on! Never underestimate the power of TV. Along with the cold and relative isolation, another factor makes this a very difficult place to live: the food. There is an enormous lack of variety in the food these people are eating here. Their ingredients seem tasty enough: wheat, chicken, goat, potatoes, carrots, turnips, fruits, olive oil, jam. But, these are pretty much all the ingredients they make into every dish every day. Bread is the big deal, and is eaten with every meal and eaten alone for breakfast. Lunch is the big meal and it's typically Duez which is a meat and vegetable stew cooked in the famous Tajine ceramic dish. It is pretty good if it is cooked well, but not good enough to eat every day (like In N Out Burger), also the method for eating it is quite dirty as there is a communal pot and you only have bread and your fingers to eat with. You are supposed to use the bread to scoop up vegetables and sauce which works kind of well but invariably fingers and bread flakes are contaminating the whole thing. The worst part comes after the vegetables are finished because it is time for the meat. Someone takes the entire hunk of meat out of the bowl, sets it on the dirty table, and starts dividing it into piles by tearing it off the bones and separating it into piles for everyone. These piles also include mystery parts and organs of the animal and your portion arrives in a greasy, dirty hand set on the dirty table in front of you. While the meat looked good in the dish, now it is easily the worst part of the meal. It's also critical that you finish your meat as it is the "luxury" of the dish. Once when I just couldn't stomach finishing the meat they made Duncan finish it for me. Much gratitude. It's not that I am against communal eating, let's just keep our hands out of it and use utensils like the Koreans or Chinese. It's not that I am against eating with hands, just let me touch my own food and you touch your own food. It's not that the Berbers are bad people, they were extremely welcoming and friendly, they are just doing things the way they were taught and have done for a long time. The Peace Corps encourages new volunteers to cook a meal or two for their host families so I asked several volunteers about their experiences. Host families didn't have a taste for pizza, used their hands to eat spaghetti and hated it, and even Duncan's simple vegetable soup was scoffed at by a friend. I kept thinking that these people would love nachos (they could eat communally and with their hands), but the ingredients might be hard to attain. I feel it is also pertinent to point out the status and location of Duncan's humble abode. Placed directly in the center of town, next to the road and "bus stop", it is also right next to the mosque where the minaret makes the call to prayer five times daily. This location is perfect for the politician but terrible for privacy. It is extremely convenient to visit him (and people do), it is loud from the minaret and anyone can see him come and go, hang out his laundry, etc. The home is a simple two room mud home with an uninspiring kitchen and drafty sleeping room. It is cold in there! Thank Allah for the stove. After leaving Duncan's village everything else seemed pretty luxurious and I was no longer thrown by the primitive things.
The next stopping point was the Sahara where we landed in the town of Merzouga and sought a camel trek to take us out into the desert for the night of Christmas Eve. It was a painful 1-2 hour camel ride out, but beautiful and surreal. I recall thinking the entire time "I can't believe I am in the desert." Following the previous trips' camel droppings and our guide, we made our way out to the camp in the middle of three giant sand dunes. We climbed to the top of one, which was much harder than it looked. We were joined later by a Chinese-Australian couple from Hong Kong on their honeymoon. We had a nice chat and they played the new Britney Spears hit on their new iPhone while we lounged in the tent reminiscent of baby jesus's manger. That night it rained a little (in the desert!) and we walked in the pitch black to find out where the music we heard was coming from. We found the other camp and were greeted to come in and eat chocolate and jam in the drum circle. Unfortunately, the visuals were lacking for our trip as there wasn't much of a sunset or sunrise when we were in the desert, nor were there any stars to see. Awaking early, we reluctantly saddled up again and slogged back to civilization for a shower to get the sand out.
We bussed on to get to the city of Tinghir where we stayed with Duncan's host-mom's family, who are relatively rich for that part of the country. They had a nice three-story house built by her brother with gorgeous Casablancan tile, a three-story atrium/breezeway for summer cooling, and a spectacular roof terrace. We stayed three nights here and were put up in the lavishly decorated entertaining room for the men with mats and eight warm wool blankets each. Her sisters cooked great food (though I was still quite sick of the traditional 2 dishes), and they even made a salad plate for me after I started feeling ill from some food poisoning from the previous city. We had actually planned to only stay for two nights but when we told them this they dead-seriously refused and said that when guests come they have to stay for a MINIMUM of 3 nights. That was alright with us, though, as the digs were comfortable, we saved money, and we had more time to focus on the main attraction of that area - the amazing river gorges from Indiana Jones. The first day we taxied to the Todgha Gorge where we ran into another volunteer with his parents, and we took Duncan's host-cousin hiking. The little guy turned out to be more of a fisherman than a hiker and we didn't make it to the top of the gorge. He also wanted to give our food away to a poor family in the hills whose home we passed on the way. That day happened to be the tenth day of the Muslim year, on which we learned that the Koran says you must give 2.5% of your total assets to the poor. We're not sure if this is the reason for his generosity, though after collecting all our trash into the bag he took it and threw it up towards their home in their extended "yard". The environment was the trash can for most places we went in Morocco due to both attitude and a lack of collection systems. The only garbage truck I can recall seeing was a mule in the Fez medina on the last day. The next day we traveled a little further to see the other gorge. It was just the two of us, so we hiked to the top and hung our feet over the edge at lunchtime. The drive out to this gorge was spectacular and we saw several other places, including the "finger rocks", where we would have liked to spend a lot more time exploring. Unfortunately, we had to start heading towards the coast so we could get there in time for the new year.
On the way to the Atlantic we took two long bus rides stopping in between for a night in Ouarzazate where we accidentally stayed in a hotel/brothel and drank the most glorious fresh juice smoothies ever mixed. We loved them so much we visited the shop three times in under 24 hours. The bus ride from there to the beach city of Agadir was the worst of the trip. The seats were so close that I could not physically sit down and put my legs in front of me. This bus was, of course, the longest trip as well, rounding out about 8 hours and totally packed for the majority of the time and winding through mountain passes at the beginning while stopping frequently for the last two hours. Needless to say, we were relieved like a balking starting pitcher to make it to Agadir for a mildly warm evening with the ten other peace corps volunteers. We met up at our rental house and went down for falafel and humus (which is apparently considered Lebanese food) on the boardwalk. The next few days, the rest of the volunteers seemed to spend a lot of time in the rental house while we got out on the town and walked and walked and walked. We spent some quality time at the dirty beach where I jumped in a short 7 v 7 soccer game. We didn't swim in the water because of its filth and the undercurrent warnings. Upon Duncan entering the water a Moroccan came racing towards me yelling "no, no, don't go in the water!" I told him it's okay, "not swimming, only toilet." He said, "oh, that's fine then," and then proceeded to tell me about how three drunk tourists were swept away by the undertow yesterday. I said "really, just yesterday?" To which he replied "well, some time ago." We walked down to the fish stalls, where we ate some delicious fried calamari, and then climbed the hill where the old city used to stand. It was destroyed in an earthquake sometime last century and instead of rebuilding they covered it with all the bodies inside and rebuilt down the hill! We stopped off for a happy hour beer at the Korean restaurant where business was slow, likely because it's only sign was in Korean. On New Year's Eve we were out with several volunteers, including a girl from Duncan's hometown (there was also one that had worked at the same golf course as I in Port Ludlow, WA), and went down to the boardwalk for the fireworks. I got wet in the ocean soon thereafter so we had to return home early where a dance party had broken out in the living room. It was composed of a bunch of people sitting around on the couch and one girl yelling at people to get them to come dance. Duncan showed a few of his moves and the housekeeper came and knocked on the door to quiet us down every couple minutes. That's a lot of detail.
When we got sick of paying too much for sleeping on a couch with no blankets, we headed north to the other hippie joint Essaouira, where Jimi Hendrix posted up for a brief period of time. This town was such a relief from the sprawling, touristy Agadir. Essouira has a nice compact medina out on a peninsula overlooking a beautiful beach and nice fishing boat harbor. In the morning we watched the fishing boats come into port and unload the catch. At lunch we returned to get mildly ripped off and eat some of it. We stayed in a disgustingly damp, moldy-smelling room in an out of order riad that seemed to be operating illegally. It was the only place that we had to pay up front, but we named our price. Following the guidebook's directions, we rambled through the streets of Essaouira and we rambled hard for two whole days. We had little aim, if some food looked good we bought it cheap, we tried to play videogames with some little kids, we played beach soccer and watched the kiteboarders, we watched futbol in the cafe and sunsets from the ramparts. It would have been nice to stay longer if we had more time, a better room, and something to do other than rambling. Call me a dirty hippie, but the town had a cool vibe like Chefchaouen, except trading the mountains for the beach.
As all tourists do, we had to go to Marrakesh. Here, the enormous town square is a UNESCO site due to the market, people and culture. Mi amigo scoffed at the idea of a UNESCO site without historical or architectural significance, as did I initially. Of course we were impressed by the 15 Euro / kg dates and had to savor a quarter kilo. As the sun went down, however, the square began changing from chaotic masses to an organized market of food and culture. The food stands were built up into groups that focused on a particular dish or two. On the outskirts were the tasty fifty cent orange juice stands. Moving inward we encountered the escargot stands, tajine and couscous restaurants, soups and even the sheep brains. The other half of the square was filled with Berber musicians, storytellers and other strange types of entertainers that braved the cold to share culture and make a buck in donation. I imagine this scene would have been much larger were it not for the bitter wind that forced us in after a short visit. We went, instead, for a Hindi film at the only movie theater I saw during the whole trip. It was a horror/suspense movie with all the choreographed song and dance of Bollywood that neither of us could finish, though we left separately.
After only one night in Marrakesh we packed out of our sardine tin of a hotel room and caught the spacious train back to Fez passing through Casablanca, Rabat and Meknes for an eight hour journey in total. In Fez we came full circle by returning to our first hotel and the converted-bathroom restaurant and by getting owned by the early morning call to prayer. We finally got our gaming in a Playstation 2 parlor where we played Pro Evo Soccer for 1 Euro / hr while some 16 year old kids tried incessantly to sell us hash and the middle-aged owner took off his jacket to pile drive one of his mischievous young customers. The next morning we said our farewells and, after a two-day layover in freezing Madrid, I returned back to the dead of Norwegian winter to start classes and reflect on the warm Moroccan sun and the trip of a lifetime.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Vacation
I just got back from a three and a half week vacation with Colton travelling around Morocco.
It was a really good trip. We got to see a lot of the big sights in Morocco that I had not yet seen. Colton landed in Fes and we spent one night there. We went to the tannery, where hundreds/thousands of skins are treated. There is a very pungent smell in the tannery because they use pigeon shit and animal piss to cure the skins. We also went to a famous Islamic school in Fes that has beautiful Arabic caligraphy engraved into the stone and wood walls.
After Fes, we headed north to Chefchaouen, a beautiful town in the Rif mountains. It was kind of rainy, but we managed one good hike. The medina (old city) in Chaouen is painted beautiful, dreamy blue white and purple. It's fun to wander around.
Chased away by the rain, we went south. After spending a couple days in my site, we went to Merzouga. Merzouga is the site of the biggest sand dunes in Morocco. We took a camel trek out into the desert and spent a nite in a tent in the dunes. I was skeptical because it is such a touristy thing to do, but it was a lot of fun and the dunes are amazing.
Next we travelled to Tinghir, where my host mother is from. Her family is still there, so Colton and I stayed with them for three nights. They were super welcoming and generous. We used their house as a base to travel to two huge gorges, which are also popular tourist attractions. The Todra Gorge is where the final scenes of Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail was filmed. It's a huge, steep gorge. The Dades Gorges were also spectacular and Colt and I managed a pretty breathtaking hike there.
Tiring of tajine, we moved onto Agadir, a beach town that is over run with tourists. We spent New Years there, sitting on the beach and walking around (we did a lot of walking everywhere we went). After that was Essaouira, also on the beach. It's a UNESCO world heritage site and its not hard to see why. The walls of the medina are an old sea fortress that stand right at the edge of the ocean.
Finally, Marrakech, where we had the most expensive dates I've ever eaten. Delicious.
It was a good trip. I'm back in Tounfite now, stuck here because we got the first snow storm of the year, closing the road to my site. It is warm this morning so I expect to be able to go home in the afternoon. Colton should be posting pics on facebook of the trip soon.
It was a really good trip. We got to see a lot of the big sights in Morocco that I had not yet seen. Colton landed in Fes and we spent one night there. We went to the tannery, where hundreds/thousands of skins are treated. There is a very pungent smell in the tannery because they use pigeon shit and animal piss to cure the skins. We also went to a famous Islamic school in Fes that has beautiful Arabic caligraphy engraved into the stone and wood walls.
After Fes, we headed north to Chefchaouen, a beautiful town in the Rif mountains. It was kind of rainy, but we managed one good hike. The medina (old city) in Chaouen is painted beautiful, dreamy blue white and purple. It's fun to wander around.
Chased away by the rain, we went south. After spending a couple days in my site, we went to Merzouga. Merzouga is the site of the biggest sand dunes in Morocco. We took a camel trek out into the desert and spent a nite in a tent in the dunes. I was skeptical because it is such a touristy thing to do, but it was a lot of fun and the dunes are amazing.
Next we travelled to Tinghir, where my host mother is from. Her family is still there, so Colton and I stayed with them for three nights. They were super welcoming and generous. We used their house as a base to travel to two huge gorges, which are also popular tourist attractions. The Todra Gorge is where the final scenes of Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail was filmed. It's a huge, steep gorge. The Dades Gorges were also spectacular and Colt and I managed a pretty breathtaking hike there.
Tiring of tajine, we moved onto Agadir, a beach town that is over run with tourists. We spent New Years there, sitting on the beach and walking around (we did a lot of walking everywhere we went). After that was Essaouira, also on the beach. It's a UNESCO world heritage site and its not hard to see why. The walls of the medina are an old sea fortress that stand right at the edge of the ocean.
Finally, Marrakech, where we had the most expensive dates I've ever eaten. Delicious.
It was a good trip. I'm back in Tounfite now, stuck here because we got the first snow storm of the year, closing the road to my site. It is warm this morning so I expect to be able to go home in the afternoon. Colton should be posting pics on facebook of the trip soon.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Update
I'm on vacation! Colton is landing in Fes on Tuesday and I'm taking 3 weeks off to travel around Morocco with him. Very exciting.
The last week in site was slow. My host mom went to pay her condolences to the family of my host uncle (who recently died), leaving my host dad and I to fend for ourselves. I cooked tajine for lunch and scambled eggs for dinner for three straight days.
The big news seems to be in the rest of the world. I read Obama's acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize. While I understand why he wants to maintain international support for the war in Afghanistan, I don't think that's the right venue to do so. The Peace Prize is an optimistic, idealistic prize and giving the "just war" speech, didn't fit.
And in Copenhagen things seem to be going about as expected, which is to say badly. Disappointing. Hopefully some sort of framework will be drawn up that can be a starting point for future negotiations.
Finally, I don't know if it made big news in America, but everyone here is talking about how Switzerland recently voted to ban minarets (of mosques). Absurd.
I'll be taking a break from the blog while I'm travelling. Next post won't be until sometime in the first week of January. Take care.
The last week in site was slow. My host mom went to pay her condolences to the family of my host uncle (who recently died), leaving my host dad and I to fend for ourselves. I cooked tajine for lunch and scambled eggs for dinner for three straight days.
The big news seems to be in the rest of the world. I read Obama's acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize. While I understand why he wants to maintain international support for the war in Afghanistan, I don't think that's the right venue to do so. The Peace Prize is an optimistic, idealistic prize and giving the "just war" speech, didn't fit.
And in Copenhagen things seem to be going about as expected, which is to say badly. Disappointing. Hopefully some sort of framework will be drawn up that can be a starting point for future negotiations.
Finally, I don't know if it made big news in America, but everyone here is talking about how Switzerland recently voted to ban minarets (of mosques). Absurd.
I'll be taking a break from the blog while I'm travelling. Next post won't be until sometime in the first week of January. Take care.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
STI Education
Post is long. If the beginning is boring, stay patient because it gets more interesting as it progresses.
On Saturday, another volunteer and I did an STI and HIV/AIDS education event in a nearby town (Boumia, population 30000). We were working with an association that we had done events with before.
After setting a date last week, I got to Boumia at 930 on Saturday morning. I happened to run into a couple guys from my town, Mohamed and Rachid (all Moroccan names changed). Mohamed is one of my best friends from my community. They got me to come eat breakfast and drink tea with them at a cafe. While we were talking, they told me they were in Boumia to go see prostitutes. They tried to get me to come. When I refused, Rachid told me he would pay for everything. Hearing my friends talk like that is pretty upsetting; it was especially poignant given that the group of people that we had targeted for the education: sex workers.
After a little while, my PCV friends showed up at the cafe. They talked with my Moroccan friends for a while as we had tea and scrambled eggs (which the Moroccans insisted on paying for).
My PCV friends and I left the cafe to go find our friend, Smail, who we were working with. We found Smail and Brahim (another guy helping with the project) at a different cafe. Brahim left to do some other work and Smail, Falisha and I went to invite girls and women to the event (scheduled for 3 that afternoon).
I've invited sex workers to one previous event and it's an emotionally difficult thing to do. Frankly, the prostitutes are a depressing group. Something about the alleys reeks of sex. The women are smoking (which is something that only prostitutes do in most of Morocco). They are dressed inappropriately. And groups of men and boys prowl the street, laughing and joking loudly with one another. Having Smail with us is crucial. He has a comfortable relationship with many of the women because he wrote his master's thesis on the sex industry in Boumia, which included surveying and interviewing. Inviting the women gave Falisha and I a chance to introduce ourselves - a long term goal we have is to build relationships with the women. One very positive part about the recruiting was that we got feedback about the previous event we had done: the women really liked the distribution of medicine (STI meds). In addition to the emotional difficulty of inviting the sex workers, I also had the shock of running into Mohamed and Rachid back in the "red light district." They were sufficiently embarrassed that they ran away without talking to us (or did I run away from them?). I told Smail that they were my friends. We are helping him learn English and he replied "they search."
After inviting the women, Smail, Falisha and I got into a car, suppossedly to go to another part of town to invite more women. We ended up driving around town without any aim as Smail's friends kept calling him and asking him to pick them up, only to disappear when we arrived at the rendezvous spot. Weird. Then we drove 5km out of town to pick up a clay tajine for Falisha (which apparently you can't get in town despite their ubiquity on dinner tables). The drive out of town was notable for the "tarkarbusht" that we were driving (takarbusht means something like "piece of shit car" in Tamazight). Every time Smail tried to shift into 3rd gear, the car went into 1st gear, sending the engine revving to 5000 rpms and causing the car to jerkily slow down. Smail attemted the shift approximately 16 times on the 30 minute round trip, each with the same result. It got old quickly.
On our return, we picked up Sam, the new PCV in Boumia. Then we went to the Caid's for formal permission from the Ministry of Interior. The Caid was at lunch (1245 pm), but we called someone and got the go ahead. Next, the 4 of us went to Brahim's house for lunch.
Brahim's house felt like a whole other world. Brahim lives in a very nice house with 2 cute kids. We had a good lunch and watched his 5 year old daughter, Samira, dance to a song played on repeat on her brother's cellphone. This girl had huge dimples and probably could not have been any cuter.
After lunch, Smail, Falisha, Sam and I went to the Dar Chebab - the site of the meeting. A Dar Chebab is like a youth center. It just so happens that another member of our association, Driss, has access to the center, allowing us to us the space for our meeting.
The meeting got started a little late (330), but attendance was good. There were 27 women there; we only directly invited 10. I was able to greet a couple of the women by name - always a good step. Smail did an excellent job leading the meeting. Falisha and I gave introductory remarks, but mostly we were silent because the meeting was conducted in Arabic.
The first half of the meeting was devoted to sex/reproductive health. Smail talked about condoms, disease transmission, and prevention and treatment of STIs. The women were mostly quiet during this part of the meeting, but I think the topic was appropriate. Smail talks about the subject in a PG way that allows people to feel comfortable, while still getting the point across.
The second half of the meeting (which consumed the majority of the time) was Smail leading a discussion about alternative options for work for the women. This is really Smail's primary agenda for the meeting. He thinks that if we can find work for the women, we can free them from sexual prostitution. I applaud this hope, but I think that he is overly optimistic. As a powerful man in Boumia, however, he has access to real resources that could be helpful. He proposed having a carpet making workshop, a couscous making project, having the women take care of cows, and starting a patisserie. Hopefully, one of the projects works out. Some of the women were enthused.
The meeting got more informal as women came to the head table to sign up for the projects. As I was sitting there, a 45 year old woman came up to me with her daughter. She didn't speak Tamazight, so she spoke through a translator. She told me that her daughter was 11 years old (she looked about 7). Apparently, the girl had some sort of heart disorder. They had been to Meknes and Khenifra (regional hospitals) and gotten medicine, but the condition hadn't improved. The woman asked me to bring some heart medicine when we brought the other medicine (we had told the women that we were planning another STI testing date, which includes medicine distribution). It was really difficult to tell the woman that I couldn't help her daughter. I probably could have been a little more direct, but I managed to communicate that I did not have means to do anything. I told her "God will help," which sounds insensitive in English, but is appropriate in Arabic. Just about broke my heart.
Unbelievably, that wasn't the most upsetting part about the meeting. As the women started to break up into smaller groups, I tried to find some women to talk to. I wanted to see how much Jamal had touched on some of the sensitive details, which I can't understand very well in Arabic. I went up to a group of women and asked who spoke Tamazight. 5 younger girls said yes, which was suprising because normally the younger ones are the Arabic speakers. The girls were 16-19 years old.
I asked them if they knew how to stop STIs. They said condoms. I asked them what they would do if a man asked them to not use a condom. They said they would tell him to leave. That was very encouraging and better than I hoped for (our worry with this project is that targeting women is ineffective because they have no say over condom use). Next I asked them, out of 10 men, how many used condoms. One girl started speaking at length. She said that not a single man uses condoms - they don't like them and they refuse to use them (immediately deflating the hope the previous, probably false answer had created). She started talking about how hard their lives were. How when they were working they didn't think about what they were doing, but being at this meeting made it impossible to forget. One of the girls, who was wearing heavy lipstick, mascara, and had her nails painted brightly started silently crying. Tears slowly leaked from her eyes and she wiped them away one by one. The girl started talking about how the health clinic in town charges them for condoms (they're suppossed to be free) and the ones at the pharmacy are expensive (2.5 DHs (40 cents) for a condom...considering that the going rate for a prostitute is 10-20 DHs, this a lot). She said they hated their work: the men, the illnesses, the government/police (who collect bribes and hassle them) and the "problems." The girl with make up kept crying. She was probably 18 years old and it was all I could to to stop myself from giving her a hug. At this point, despite the long-shot nature of the projects Smail had proposed, it was hard not to hope that maybe we could give them some other options. Telling them just "use condoms" suddenly seemed heartlessly insufficient. Improving their sexual health would make just a small difference in their difficult lives. Moreover, they didn't even have the power to make a decision about condoms. The girl started praising us and thanking us. I told them God will help - my classic "I don't know how to help you" response. She said that we were the cause to help them chane their lives. I don't know if she meant "you have motivated us to change our lives" or "you will help us change our lives with these projects."
The day was emotionally exhausting. The meeting went about as well as it could have gone in terms of communicating a message to a receptive audience, but it revealed such deep-rooted problems that are beyond our capability to make a real impact on. It showed us just how much work there is to do. It was incredibly informative. There is clearly a need to address the availability of condoms and medicine. Furthermore, it seems that a large effort needs to be made in order to reach the male population, which is much more daunting. It is a much larger, less centralized, less receptive population. Mostly though, the meeting was heartbreaking.
It's hard not to draw negative conclusions about the society that I live in based upon the sex industry in Boumia (and other nearby towns/cities). Rural, Muslim, Berber culture has successfully stigmatized female sexuality to the point where it is impossible for a woman to express sexuality and remain a part of society. Men, seeking sex (hypocritically not taboo for them), take advantage of poor women with no other options. By compartamentalizing and isolating female sexuality to the sex industry, society is able to maintain the myth of female purity. The cost (in addition to the suppression of sexuality in the female population) is the creation of social pariahs: the prostitutes. Women in the sex industry have violated one of the most basic social rules, ostracizing themselves from normal society. Marganalized, they are powerless to prevent abuse by the authority figures, who hassle them and collect bribes from their meager earnings. Earning pittances for social suicide, they are unable to protect even their own health: condom use is up to the discretion of the man. Ugh.
On Saturday, another volunteer and I did an STI and HIV/AIDS education event in a nearby town (Boumia, population 30000). We were working with an association that we had done events with before.
After setting a date last week, I got to Boumia at 930 on Saturday morning. I happened to run into a couple guys from my town, Mohamed and Rachid (all Moroccan names changed). Mohamed is one of my best friends from my community. They got me to come eat breakfast and drink tea with them at a cafe. While we were talking, they told me they were in Boumia to go see prostitutes. They tried to get me to come. When I refused, Rachid told me he would pay for everything. Hearing my friends talk like that is pretty upsetting; it was especially poignant given that the group of people that we had targeted for the education: sex workers.
After a little while, my PCV friends showed up at the cafe. They talked with my Moroccan friends for a while as we had tea and scrambled eggs (which the Moroccans insisted on paying for).
My PCV friends and I left the cafe to go find our friend, Smail, who we were working with. We found Smail and Brahim (another guy helping with the project) at a different cafe. Brahim left to do some other work and Smail, Falisha and I went to invite girls and women to the event (scheduled for 3 that afternoon).
I've invited sex workers to one previous event and it's an emotionally difficult thing to do. Frankly, the prostitutes are a depressing group. Something about the alleys reeks of sex. The women are smoking (which is something that only prostitutes do in most of Morocco). They are dressed inappropriately. And groups of men and boys prowl the street, laughing and joking loudly with one another. Having Smail with us is crucial. He has a comfortable relationship with many of the women because he wrote his master's thesis on the sex industry in Boumia, which included surveying and interviewing. Inviting the women gave Falisha and I a chance to introduce ourselves - a long term goal we have is to build relationships with the women. One very positive part about the recruiting was that we got feedback about the previous event we had done: the women really liked the distribution of medicine (STI meds). In addition to the emotional difficulty of inviting the sex workers, I also had the shock of running into Mohamed and Rachid back in the "red light district." They were sufficiently embarrassed that they ran away without talking to us (or did I run away from them?). I told Smail that they were my friends. We are helping him learn English and he replied "they search."
After inviting the women, Smail, Falisha and I got into a car, suppossedly to go to another part of town to invite more women. We ended up driving around town without any aim as Smail's friends kept calling him and asking him to pick them up, only to disappear when we arrived at the rendezvous spot. Weird. Then we drove 5km out of town to pick up a clay tajine for Falisha (which apparently you can't get in town despite their ubiquity on dinner tables). The drive out of town was notable for the "tarkarbusht" that we were driving (takarbusht means something like "piece of shit car" in Tamazight). Every time Smail tried to shift into 3rd gear, the car went into 1st gear, sending the engine revving to 5000 rpms and causing the car to jerkily slow down. Smail attemted the shift approximately 16 times on the 30 minute round trip, each with the same result. It got old quickly.
On our return, we picked up Sam, the new PCV in Boumia. Then we went to the Caid's for formal permission from the Ministry of Interior. The Caid was at lunch (1245 pm), but we called someone and got the go ahead. Next, the 4 of us went to Brahim's house for lunch.
Brahim's house felt like a whole other world. Brahim lives in a very nice house with 2 cute kids. We had a good lunch and watched his 5 year old daughter, Samira, dance to a song played on repeat on her brother's cellphone. This girl had huge dimples and probably could not have been any cuter.
After lunch, Smail, Falisha, Sam and I went to the Dar Chebab - the site of the meeting. A Dar Chebab is like a youth center. It just so happens that another member of our association, Driss, has access to the center, allowing us to us the space for our meeting.
The meeting got started a little late (330), but attendance was good. There were 27 women there; we only directly invited 10. I was able to greet a couple of the women by name - always a good step. Smail did an excellent job leading the meeting. Falisha and I gave introductory remarks, but mostly we were silent because the meeting was conducted in Arabic.
The first half of the meeting was devoted to sex/reproductive health. Smail talked about condoms, disease transmission, and prevention and treatment of STIs. The women were mostly quiet during this part of the meeting, but I think the topic was appropriate. Smail talks about the subject in a PG way that allows people to feel comfortable, while still getting the point across.
The second half of the meeting (which consumed the majority of the time) was Smail leading a discussion about alternative options for work for the women. This is really Smail's primary agenda for the meeting. He thinks that if we can find work for the women, we can free them from sexual prostitution. I applaud this hope, but I think that he is overly optimistic. As a powerful man in Boumia, however, he has access to real resources that could be helpful. He proposed having a carpet making workshop, a couscous making project, having the women take care of cows, and starting a patisserie. Hopefully, one of the projects works out. Some of the women were enthused.
The meeting got more informal as women came to the head table to sign up for the projects. As I was sitting there, a 45 year old woman came up to me with her daughter. She didn't speak Tamazight, so she spoke through a translator. She told me that her daughter was 11 years old (she looked about 7). Apparently, the girl had some sort of heart disorder. They had been to Meknes and Khenifra (regional hospitals) and gotten medicine, but the condition hadn't improved. The woman asked me to bring some heart medicine when we brought the other medicine (we had told the women that we were planning another STI testing date, which includes medicine distribution). It was really difficult to tell the woman that I couldn't help her daughter. I probably could have been a little more direct, but I managed to communicate that I did not have means to do anything. I told her "God will help," which sounds insensitive in English, but is appropriate in Arabic. Just about broke my heart.
Unbelievably, that wasn't the most upsetting part about the meeting. As the women started to break up into smaller groups, I tried to find some women to talk to. I wanted to see how much Jamal had touched on some of the sensitive details, which I can't understand very well in Arabic. I went up to a group of women and asked who spoke Tamazight. 5 younger girls said yes, which was suprising because normally the younger ones are the Arabic speakers. The girls were 16-19 years old.
I asked them if they knew how to stop STIs. They said condoms. I asked them what they would do if a man asked them to not use a condom. They said they would tell him to leave. That was very encouraging and better than I hoped for (our worry with this project is that targeting women is ineffective because they have no say over condom use). Next I asked them, out of 10 men, how many used condoms. One girl started speaking at length. She said that not a single man uses condoms - they don't like them and they refuse to use them (immediately deflating the hope the previous, probably false answer had created). She started talking about how hard their lives were. How when they were working they didn't think about what they were doing, but being at this meeting made it impossible to forget. One of the girls, who was wearing heavy lipstick, mascara, and had her nails painted brightly started silently crying. Tears slowly leaked from her eyes and she wiped them away one by one. The girl started talking about how the health clinic in town charges them for condoms (they're suppossed to be free) and the ones at the pharmacy are expensive (2.5 DHs (40 cents) for a condom...considering that the going rate for a prostitute is 10-20 DHs, this a lot). She said they hated their work: the men, the illnesses, the government/police (who collect bribes and hassle them) and the "problems." The girl with make up kept crying. She was probably 18 years old and it was all I could to to stop myself from giving her a hug. At this point, despite the long-shot nature of the projects Smail had proposed, it was hard not to hope that maybe we could give them some other options. Telling them just "use condoms" suddenly seemed heartlessly insufficient. Improving their sexual health would make just a small difference in their difficult lives. Moreover, they didn't even have the power to make a decision about condoms. The girl started praising us and thanking us. I told them God will help - my classic "I don't know how to help you" response. She said that we were the cause to help them chane their lives. I don't know if she meant "you have motivated us to change our lives" or "you will help us change our lives with these projects."
The day was emotionally exhausting. The meeting went about as well as it could have gone in terms of communicating a message to a receptive audience, but it revealed such deep-rooted problems that are beyond our capability to make a real impact on. It showed us just how much work there is to do. It was incredibly informative. There is clearly a need to address the availability of condoms and medicine. Furthermore, it seems that a large effort needs to be made in order to reach the male population, which is much more daunting. It is a much larger, less centralized, less receptive population. Mostly though, the meeting was heartbreaking.
It's hard not to draw negative conclusions about the society that I live in based upon the sex industry in Boumia (and other nearby towns/cities). Rural, Muslim, Berber culture has successfully stigmatized female sexuality to the point where it is impossible for a woman to express sexuality and remain a part of society. Men, seeking sex (hypocritically not taboo for them), take advantage of poor women with no other options. By compartamentalizing and isolating female sexuality to the sex industry, society is able to maintain the myth of female purity. The cost (in addition to the suppression of sexuality in the female population) is the creation of social pariahs: the prostitutes. Women in the sex industry have violated one of the most basic social rules, ostracizing themselves from normal society. Marganalized, they are powerless to prevent abuse by the authority figures, who hassle them and collect bribes from their meager earnings. Earning pittances for social suicide, they are unable to protect even their own health: condom use is up to the discretion of the man. Ugh.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Holidays and Other News
I have been eating lots the past week.
Last Thursday, of course, was Thanksgiving. 8 PCVs gathered in Tounfite to celebrate. We killed 2 turkeys and made a bunch of other food. We invited a Moroccan family that we are close to come and celebrate with us. It was there 2nd Thanksgiving in a row; they like the holiday a lot. I made mashed potatoes: about six pounds of potatoes and nearly a pound of butter. Delicious. The celebration was a lot of fun, but this is the 3rd Thanksgiving in a row that I have been out of America for. Next year I hope to be home.
Saturday was the biggest Moroccan (and Muslim) holiday of the year. The holiday is a celebration of when Ibrahim was told by God to sacrifice his son, Ishmael. Just as Ibrahim was about to make the sacrifice, God told him to sacrifice a sheep instead. It's a story about faith and obedience. Lots of people here are surprised that I know the parable because they don't know that it's a story from the Old Testament.
Everyone in my community slaughters a goat or sheep (or two) for the holiday. Once again, I helped my host family slaughter and skin their goat. There are two especially gross parts. First, after the goat is dead, you cut a little hole in its skin near the foot to start skinning it. You blow a bunch of air into this hold which kind of inflates the goat and makes skinning easier. The second gross part is once the goat has been skinned, getting rid of the innards. In order to flush all of the shit of the goats intestines and stomach, you fill the intestines with water and blow on the opening of the intestine until the water runs out. I did both of these gross things this year. I think it's important to be able to prepare/kill animals if you are going to eat them. Taking part in the slaughter makes me want to go back to being a vegitarian.
My host dad's brother died a week and a half ago. My host "uncle" lived a couple hours away, so I had never met him. My host dad went to stay with that family for a couple days for the funeral. Upon his return, nearly everybody in town has been coming to the house to pay their condolonces. My host mom complains a lot about having to serve them all tea and all the extra work from having guests. But at the same time, she told me that she's counting everyone who doesn't come to the house and she will never talk to them again.
Three more community meetings happened. One with men and two with women. I think they are effective at disseminating information throughout the community. I had a female volunteer come and facilitate the meetings with women. The most encouraging part about the meetings is that the women who attended the midwife training have been very good at explaining the lessons of the training (which was the purpose of the training).
In the next two weeks, I have more community meetings, an educational meeting with sex workers about STIs and I am hopefully going to do a biomass survey of the local forest with another volunteer. The idea is to use current wood usage rates to estimate how many years the forest has left. That work should keep me busy until Colton comes on the 15th and we travel around Morocco together. I'm really looking forward to that vacation.
The only other news is that this year has been exceptionally warm. On Thanksgiving last year, we got a big snowstorm that dropped probably 8 inches. We have yet to have any snow this year. However, the weather has just changed. The last couple days have been quite cold. Winter may finally be here.
Last Thursday, of course, was Thanksgiving. 8 PCVs gathered in Tounfite to celebrate. We killed 2 turkeys and made a bunch of other food. We invited a Moroccan family that we are close to come and celebrate with us. It was there 2nd Thanksgiving in a row; they like the holiday a lot. I made mashed potatoes: about six pounds of potatoes and nearly a pound of butter. Delicious. The celebration was a lot of fun, but this is the 3rd Thanksgiving in a row that I have been out of America for. Next year I hope to be home.
Saturday was the biggest Moroccan (and Muslim) holiday of the year. The holiday is a celebration of when Ibrahim was told by God to sacrifice his son, Ishmael. Just as Ibrahim was about to make the sacrifice, God told him to sacrifice a sheep instead. It's a story about faith and obedience. Lots of people here are surprised that I know the parable because they don't know that it's a story from the Old Testament.
Everyone in my community slaughters a goat or sheep (or two) for the holiday. Once again, I helped my host family slaughter and skin their goat. There are two especially gross parts. First, after the goat is dead, you cut a little hole in its skin near the foot to start skinning it. You blow a bunch of air into this hold which kind of inflates the goat and makes skinning easier. The second gross part is once the goat has been skinned, getting rid of the innards. In order to flush all of the shit of the goats intestines and stomach, you fill the intestines with water and blow on the opening of the intestine until the water runs out. I did both of these gross things this year. I think it's important to be able to prepare/kill animals if you are going to eat them. Taking part in the slaughter makes me want to go back to being a vegitarian.
My host dad's brother died a week and a half ago. My host "uncle" lived a couple hours away, so I had never met him. My host dad went to stay with that family for a couple days for the funeral. Upon his return, nearly everybody in town has been coming to the house to pay their condolonces. My host mom complains a lot about having to serve them all tea and all the extra work from having guests. But at the same time, she told me that she's counting everyone who doesn't come to the house and she will never talk to them again.
Three more community meetings happened. One with men and two with women. I think they are effective at disseminating information throughout the community. I had a female volunteer come and facilitate the meetings with women. The most encouraging part about the meetings is that the women who attended the midwife training have been very good at explaining the lessons of the training (which was the purpose of the training).
In the next two weeks, I have more community meetings, an educational meeting with sex workers about STIs and I am hopefully going to do a biomass survey of the local forest with another volunteer. The idea is to use current wood usage rates to estimate how many years the forest has left. That work should keep me busy until Colton comes on the 15th and we travel around Morocco together. I'm really looking forward to that vacation.
The only other news is that this year has been exceptionally warm. On Thanksgiving last year, we got a big snowstorm that dropped probably 8 inches. We have yet to have any snow this year. However, the weather has just changed. The last couple days have been quite cold. Winter may finally be here.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
TBA report
Here is the report that I wrote for the workshop I did a couple weeks ago. I'm not allowed to publish the names of the villages, so that's what all the "A" and "A2's" are. It's long and maybe boring (and poorly formatted for blogspot). There is a personal update at the end if that's all you're interested in.
Maternal and Child Health Workshop
October 28th, 29th, and 30th 2009
Duncan Gromko
Outline
Introduction
Participants
Goals and Objectives
Project Timeline
Budget
Workshop Curriculum
Logistics
Highlights
Difficulties
Monitoring and Evaluation
Suggestions for Future Workshops
Conclusions
Thanks
Introduction
This project was very rewarding. The purpose of this report is to help volunteers replicate it in their sites. Although each site poses unique public health problems, maternal and child health is an area that deserves attention in rural Morocco. I welcome questions and criticisms.
Isolated by towering mountains, the communities of XXX face different public health problems due to their geographic location and economic situation. Tounfite is the local hub: a souq town. It has a large health clinic, a maison d'accouchement, and a place for women to stay pre and post delivery. A and T have a small health clinic and are an hour from Tounfite. T2 and L have a clinic and are about two hours from Tounfite. T3 has no clinic and is approximately four to five hours from Tounfite (two hours from the L clinic). There is a health clinic in A2; T4 and B are about seven kilometers from A2. Tounfite is two to three hours away. Communities that are further from Tounfite must be more self-reliant. Generally speaking, the region is underdeveloped due to its lack of natural resources and harsh environmental conditions that make agriculture only marginally productive. The main sources of income for these communities is herding sheep.
Most women give birth in the home, with the help of their mothers or other female relations, resulting in high rates of maternal and infant mortality. The number of pre-natal visits is also low. Furthermore, lack of access to Ministry health care means that common illnesses, such as diarrhea, can be fatal. Therefore, preventive health measures are crucial.
This workshop was the second in two years. Last year’s training, hosted by Mara Hansen, focused primarily on birthing. Given the difficulty of training women to be midwives in three days and other health issues facing the communities, the focus for this year’s training was slightly altered. In addition to pregnancy and birthing, more general health issues such as hygiene, oral rehydration liquid, and family planning were covered. Furthermore, the training focused on enabling the women to be health care advocates in their communities. Thus, the women were asked to simulate teaching exercises in order to build these skills. Finally, without the assistance and support of men in these communities, a comprehensive solution will not be found. Thus, on the final day of the training, community leaders from each village were invited to create a community action plan to be implemented following the training.
Participants/Responsibilities
• Volunteers (Duncan Gromko, Kristen Apa, Taryn Weil, Dan Dutcher, Jed D’Abravanel, Eric O’Bryant, and Falisha Khan) were responsible for recruiting women, planning the workshop curriculum, securing Ministry permission, assisting in lessons, and ensuring that all logistical issues were taken care of.
• Ministry of Health employees (MOH Khenifra representative, two Tounfite sage-femmes, and Agoudim doctor) were responsible for conducting the training. MOH Khenifra representative gave introductory remarks and a quick lesson on hygiene. Tounfite sage-femmes did the majority of the lessons, focusing on birthing and pre/post-natal care. Agoudim doctor did a lesson on basic hygiene, first aid, and oral rehydration. The Ministry also provided a space for the lesson and photocopies of the lesson booklet.
• 25 women from rural communities (A: 5, T2: 3, B: 2, T3: 2, L: 2, T4: 1, A2: 2, T5: 3, Tounfite: 4, A3: 1)
• 7 community leaders were in attendance for the final afternoon session
• Two Tounfite women cooked food for and hosted the women for three days and four nights
Goals and Objectives
Goal
To improve maternal and child health in the villages of XXX by teaching 25 women basic health lessons and creating opportunities for them to become community health advocates.
Training objectives:
• 25 women will demonstrate understanding of the following topics
o The importance of pre/post natal visits to the medical clinic
o Healthy pre/post natal practices in the home
o Identification and referral of high-risk patients to local birthing centers (maison d’accouchement)
o Safe home birthing practices
o Preventing infant diarrhea, oral rehydration
o Hygiene
o Different contraceptive methods (birth control pill, condoms, IUD, the shot)
• Two midwives and one doctor will acquire new instructional methods and increase their ability to promote healthy behaviors among rural populations
• 25 women and 10 community leaders will create community action plans to bring the lessons from the training back to their communities
Long term objectives:
• Number of pre-natal visits to local health clinics (Tounfite, A2, A, and L) will increase
• Number of births in maison d’accouchement in Tounfite will increase
• Number of infant deaths related to diarrheal diseases will decrease
• Contraceptive methods will be used more frequently and with greater efficacy
• Each village will hold community wide meetings, conducted by the women from the training, volunteers, community leaders, and Ministry of Health staff, to disseminate the lessons from the training
Project Timeline
• May – Informally propose project to Ministry of Health
• June and July – Recruit women to attend workshop
• July – Discuss curriculum with doctor and sage-femmes
• September – Formal approval from Ministry of Health
• October 20th-27th Finalize workshop logistics
• October 28th-30th Workshop
• November and December - Community meetings
Budget
Transportation for women - 600 Dhs
Lodging/food for women - 3,000 Dhs
Pay for women - 2,400 Dhs
Photocopies - 400 Dhs (Ministry of Health)
Break food, misc. - 400 Dhs
Using Tounfite maison d'accouchement (In kind)
Time of Tounfite Ministry of Health Staff (In kind)
Printing photos - 60 Dhs
Gifts for trainers - 180 Dhs
Total - 7,040 Dhs
Workshop Curriculum
Day 1
Introductions
Pre-natal care: home
Identifying risky pregnancies
Pre-natal care: sbitar
Day 2
Healthy practices: preparing for birth
Healthy practices: birthing
Family planning
Hygiene
Oral rehydration
Day 3
Post-natal care
Review
Community groups meet to formulate action plan
Community groups present plan to larger group
Logistics
Transportation for the women was fairly straightforward. Mostly, they were responsible for finding their own transport. They were reimbursed at conclusion of training.
Feeding of women was difficult. Having a Moroccan family host and feed the women (women who had no family in Tounfite) was critical. It took a lot of responsibility off of the hands of the volunteer. It was expensive, but well worth the expense. We took care of break food (tea, peanuts, pastries), which was easy for volunteers who were not participating in the training to be responsible for. Having seven volunteers there to take care of various unexpected odds and ends was important.
Highlights
Organizing and participating in this training was very rewarding. The women were very appreciative and enjoyed the training. On the final day, there was a celebration dinner with an ahaydus, where the women sang praises of the volunteers.
The final session of the training, with community leaders attending, was the most important session of the training. Hopefully, it will provide the women (and volunteers) with community partners to help with further education efforts. During the session, each community group made an action plan as to how they would disseminate information to the appropriate people. The group was asked to review the lessons of the training and decide which lessons were most important in their community, based upon their health needs. Inviting men and asking them to take a stake in the health of women in their community was critical to the success of the training. It will make future work much easier. At the conclusion of the training, each community group was asking me when I was going to come to their village to do a smaller version of the workshop with them.
Another highlight from the final meeting was a particularly impassioned speech made by a 23 year-old woman from T4, named Turia. She stood up in front of women and men and demanded that people take better care of their women. She said that men had a responsibility to provide for their women. She said that women ought to stand up for one another (and themselves) when they witness oppression. She emphasized the importance of the community helping itself and not waiting for outside help to come and save it. It was a moving speech that was an excellent way to conclude the training.
Difficulties
The most difficult part of the training was the difficulty of sticking to the schedule. Events beyond anyone's control demanded that lessons be moved around. For example, each of the sage-femmes was called away to Khenifra on one of the training days, leaving the other to teach lessons by herself. Another difficulty arose when, on Thursday morning, a woman came into the maison d'accouchement in labor. With only one sage-femme at the center, we were momentarily left without a trainer. But, in this instance and others, we were flexible and made productive use of the time.
Language was a small problem. On the first day, the sage-femme leading the training was a Tamazight speaker, which made the lessons and communication easy. On the second day, the sage-femme and doctor who led the sessions were Arabic only speakers, necessitating a translator. While the translator did an admirable job, it is difficult to have as fluid of a conversation speaking through a translator.
Shame about the health topics covered was a small problem. Males were excluded from the training room for the sensitive training sessions, reducing that problem. On the last day, when men were invited, some people were uncomfortable. One man opened up the training booklet (which contains some graphic pictures), stood up, and left. He was the only one to leave, however. Although people were uncomfortable for this session, I believe that was unavoidable. The only thing I would change is to be sure that the training booklet remains closed.
Some of the women were not actively participating in the lessons. One woman fell asleep. There are a couple explanations. First, asking these women to concentrate for hours on end is inherently problematic. Most of them haven't been in a school setting for years. Second, recruiting women is difficult. It is not easy to predict (especially as a male) who will actively participate in the training. The more time spent before the training evaluating potential trainees, the better.
Organizing the training was a lot of work. Having the help of six other volunteers was critical.
Another challenge during the training was the use of handout (visual aids) that corresponded with the lessons of the training. The trainers did not consistently utilize the materials and the women had a difficult time following along. A large flip-chart, that corresponded with the handouts, would make it easier for trainees to follow along.
A three day workshop is inherently limiting. It was difficult to fit the entire curriculum into the three days an ensure that all of the women were absorbing all of the information. Narrowing the breadth of the training may be necessary.
Monitoring and Evaluation
Monitoring the ability of this training to reach its goals and objectives is both important and difficult. It is important to monitor the success of the training because doing so will inform volunteers’ future work. It is difficult because there are many complicating variables. Furthermore, the success of this training is not entirely captured by measureable numbers. Simply promoting women’s health in such a public manner was a success in itself.
The objectives for the training were mostly met. Most women were actively engaged in the lessons and were able to explain the topics to each other and volunteers when asked. There was a minority of women who did not focus on the lessons for the entirety of the training (one woman fell asleep), but these women were the exception, not the rule. Furthermore, expecting middle age women who have not been in a classroom setting for 30 years (if ever) to focus for three straight days is asking a lot. The women did remarkably well at focusing. The instructors of the training (Ministry of Health staff) deserve credit for making the lessons interesting and engaging. The objective of each community deciding upon a community action plan was also met as discussed above.
It is too early to judge whether the long-term objectives for the training have been met. Pre-natal visits and births in the maison d’accouchment can be measured by comparing Ministry statistics from before and after the training. This will not be a perfect indicator, however, as there could be other factors contributing to an increase in pre-natal visits (ie the Lougagh nurse is new; one can expect that he will get more visits as the community gains trust in him). In addition to comparing Ministry statistics, there is another method of measuring pre-natal visits and births in the health clinic. Each woman was given ten “referral” cards: a small sheet of paper with a picture of a pregnant woman going to the health clinic. Each card has the woman’s name on the back. The women were instructed to give the cards to pregnant women when they recommend a health clinic visit. The pregnant women will then give the card to the health clinic staff, to be later counted by a Peace Corps volunteer. If this system is effective, it will give a clear indication of the training’s reach and effectiveness. Three weeks after the training, early returns from the referral cards are very positive. Ten cards have been turned into the A health clinic (referrals from five different trainees) and two cards have been turned into the L health clinic (one trainee). In addition to providing volunteers with a means of monitoring activity, they also give trainees motivation to make referrals.
It will be difficult to judge whether or not deaths from diarrheal diseases decrease or contraceptive devices are used more effectively. Statistics are not currently kept on this sort of thing. Witnessing behavior change will be the surest way to judge if those lessons were effective.
If the community wide meetings hosted by women from the training, Ministry of Health staff, community leaders, and Peace Corps volunteers are held, that will be a clear indication of the training’s success. These meetings will force the communities to engage about the health issues facing them and how they can be most effectively addressed. If the meetings are well-run, then they will allow other objectives to be met. Three weeks after the training, one community meeting has been held with several others planned for the coming weeks.
Suggestions for Future Workshops
Although the workshop was interactive and engaging, improvements could been made. Any activities that force the women to stand up and physically be involved are positive. If time had permitted, the schedule would have included an entire "teach back" session, where the women are asked to teach other trainees lessons that they had just learned. This would reinforce the lessons in their heads and give them the skills for talking to other women.
Another suggestion for keeping the women engaged is to include stretching breaks with the tea breaks. Anything to get the women to stand up and move around for five minutes.
A final way of addressing the problem of inattentive women is a better recruiting and vetting process. The more time that a recruiter can spend with the women before mentioning the workshop, the better. I mentioned a speech given by Turia at the final session. In addition to that speech, she was critical in bridging the cultural gap between the Ministry of Health staff and the women. Other women were also important contributors to raising the energy level of the training and helping other women understand the difficult concepts. Recruiting is a critical step in making the training a success. Invite active, strong women. Having a variety of ages is also helpful: older women have more experience, but younger women tend to be more active. Invite community leaders who you can imagine working with after the training.
In future trainings, it would be helpful to give the women a "test" at the conclusion of the training to more formally gauge their competencies. Furthermore, having feedback from the trainees at the conclusion of the training would be a good way to improve future workshops.
Conclusions
The workshop was a very rewarding project. Hopefully, it will be a catalyst for creating wide-spread behavior change in a number of communities. It is important to emphasize, however, that the workshop is only a first step. If villages do not follow through on their community action plans, the reach of the workshop will be limited.
For any volunteer that identifies maternal and child health as a community health priority, I recommend considering a project similar to this workshop. It is an effective way of addressing the problem. However, it is critical to tailor the project to the community's assets and deficits. A community that has easy access to a functional maison d'accouchement needs a much different training than one with no access. It is also critical to consider the ability of the Ministry of Health staff to lead the training. In Tounfite, our staff is very capable and did an excellent job with the training. Two of the trainers attended last year's workshop, meaning that they had experience. Furthermore, it is important to have a common language between the MOH staff and the volunteer so there can be fluid communication about the curriculum and problems that arise during the course of the workshop. Another consideration is the size and location of the workshop. This was a large workshop in our souq town. It would be easier to facilitate a smaller workshop in the town of the women. Depending on the situation, it may be easier and more effective to have several small trainings, rather than one large one.
It is also important to consider the strengths of the volunteer. As a man, it was easier for me to persuade community leaders to attend the final session. It was also easier for me to make contacts in outer douars for recruiting. On the other hand, it was more difficult for me to thoroughly vet the women before the training. Also, I was unable to be in the training room for most of the training. An effective training is going to utilize male and female volunteers.
Thanks
This workshop would not have been possible without a long list of people. Rachida, Wafa, and Selua (Ministry of Health staff: Tounfite) did an outstanding job conducting the training; they reached out to the women and made it engaging and interactive. The Ministry of Health in Khenifra, in particular Sidi Aissa gave me permission to use their facilities, workers, and provided training booklets for the women. Sidi Aissa also helped me figure out the paperwork at the Ministry and led an excellent opening session at the workshop. The entire Tounfite health clinic staff was helpful as well, thanks to Lahcen, the Medicin Chef. Mamaksu and Baha worked day and night for 4 straight days to provide the women with food and housing. My programming staff, Mostafa Lamqaddam and Rachid Lamjaimer, provided advice and support. The volunteers who helped on the project: Kristen Apa, Taryn Weil, Dan Dutcher, Jed D’Abravanel, Eric O’Bryant, and Falisha Khan did everything I asked them to do and plenty of things I forgot to ask of them. Mark and Joyce Gromko, Mary Ellen Newport, and Kristin and David LaFever all contributed financially. Kristin and David LaFever and Mara Hansen deserve thanks for showing me how to run a workshop last year.
Update
Had first follow-up community meeting in my village (A) with men. It went quite well. I'm hoping to do similar meetings in 3-4 other villages. And meetings with women as well. I have three scheduled for next week. The main lessons are: pre-natal visits, birth in Tounfite (not in house), hygiene, and birth control.
On Monday I painted two rooms of my host family's house. I liked doing it because it was the first time that I've had a skill that people here valued (I've done lots of painting work before).
On Wednesday the local police (in Tounfite) called me during lunch and told me to come immediately to Tounfite (one hour away). They told me to bring my ID card. I told them that it expired months ago and that I had already applied to them for a new one. They had my old copy. When I got to the office, they asked me for my card. I explained to them again that they had taken my old card. They asked if I had a photocopy of the card, and I told them that it was in their files. They looked through my paperwork and sure enough, there it was. They said I could go home. Very typical.
Maternal and Child Health Workshop
October 28th, 29th, and 30th 2009
Duncan Gromko
Outline
Introduction
Participants
Goals and Objectives
Project Timeline
Budget
Workshop Curriculum
Logistics
Highlights
Difficulties
Monitoring and Evaluation
Suggestions for Future Workshops
Conclusions
Thanks
Introduction
This project was very rewarding. The purpose of this report is to help volunteers replicate it in their sites. Although each site poses unique public health problems, maternal and child health is an area that deserves attention in rural Morocco. I welcome questions and criticisms.
Isolated by towering mountains, the communities of XXX face different public health problems due to their geographic location and economic situation. Tounfite is the local hub: a souq town. It has a large health clinic, a maison d'accouchement, and a place for women to stay pre and post delivery. A and T have a small health clinic and are an hour from Tounfite. T2 and L have a clinic and are about two hours from Tounfite. T3 has no clinic and is approximately four to five hours from Tounfite (two hours from the L clinic). There is a health clinic in A2; T4 and B are about seven kilometers from A2. Tounfite is two to three hours away. Communities that are further from Tounfite must be more self-reliant. Generally speaking, the region is underdeveloped due to its lack of natural resources and harsh environmental conditions that make agriculture only marginally productive. The main sources of income for these communities is herding sheep.
Most women give birth in the home, with the help of their mothers or other female relations, resulting in high rates of maternal and infant mortality. The number of pre-natal visits is also low. Furthermore, lack of access to Ministry health care means that common illnesses, such as diarrhea, can be fatal. Therefore, preventive health measures are crucial.
This workshop was the second in two years. Last year’s training, hosted by Mara Hansen, focused primarily on birthing. Given the difficulty of training women to be midwives in three days and other health issues facing the communities, the focus for this year’s training was slightly altered. In addition to pregnancy and birthing, more general health issues such as hygiene, oral rehydration liquid, and family planning were covered. Furthermore, the training focused on enabling the women to be health care advocates in their communities. Thus, the women were asked to simulate teaching exercises in order to build these skills. Finally, without the assistance and support of men in these communities, a comprehensive solution will not be found. Thus, on the final day of the training, community leaders from each village were invited to create a community action plan to be implemented following the training.
Participants/Responsibilities
• Volunteers (Duncan Gromko, Kristen Apa, Taryn Weil, Dan Dutcher, Jed D’Abravanel, Eric O’Bryant, and Falisha Khan) were responsible for recruiting women, planning the workshop curriculum, securing Ministry permission, assisting in lessons, and ensuring that all logistical issues were taken care of.
• Ministry of Health employees (MOH Khenifra representative, two Tounfite sage-femmes, and Agoudim doctor) were responsible for conducting the training. MOH Khenifra representative gave introductory remarks and a quick lesson on hygiene. Tounfite sage-femmes did the majority of the lessons, focusing on birthing and pre/post-natal care. Agoudim doctor did a lesson on basic hygiene, first aid, and oral rehydration. The Ministry also provided a space for the lesson and photocopies of the lesson booklet.
• 25 women from rural communities (A: 5, T2: 3, B: 2, T3: 2, L: 2, T4: 1, A2: 2, T5: 3, Tounfite: 4, A3: 1)
• 7 community leaders were in attendance for the final afternoon session
• Two Tounfite women cooked food for and hosted the women for three days and four nights
Goals and Objectives
Goal
To improve maternal and child health in the villages of XXX by teaching 25 women basic health lessons and creating opportunities for them to become community health advocates.
Training objectives:
• 25 women will demonstrate understanding of the following topics
o The importance of pre/post natal visits to the medical clinic
o Healthy pre/post natal practices in the home
o Identification and referral of high-risk patients to local birthing centers (maison d’accouchement)
o Safe home birthing practices
o Preventing infant diarrhea, oral rehydration
o Hygiene
o Different contraceptive methods (birth control pill, condoms, IUD, the shot)
• Two midwives and one doctor will acquire new instructional methods and increase their ability to promote healthy behaviors among rural populations
• 25 women and 10 community leaders will create community action plans to bring the lessons from the training back to their communities
Long term objectives:
• Number of pre-natal visits to local health clinics (Tounfite, A2, A, and L) will increase
• Number of births in maison d’accouchement in Tounfite will increase
• Number of infant deaths related to diarrheal diseases will decrease
• Contraceptive methods will be used more frequently and with greater efficacy
• Each village will hold community wide meetings, conducted by the women from the training, volunteers, community leaders, and Ministry of Health staff, to disseminate the lessons from the training
Project Timeline
• May – Informally propose project to Ministry of Health
• June and July – Recruit women to attend workshop
• July – Discuss curriculum with doctor and sage-femmes
• September – Formal approval from Ministry of Health
• October 20th-27th Finalize workshop logistics
• October 28th-30th Workshop
• November and December - Community meetings
Budget
Transportation for women - 600 Dhs
Lodging/food for women - 3,000 Dhs
Pay for women - 2,400 Dhs
Photocopies - 400 Dhs (Ministry of Health)
Break food, misc. - 400 Dhs
Using Tounfite maison d'accouchement (In kind)
Time of Tounfite Ministry of Health Staff (In kind)
Printing photos - 60 Dhs
Gifts for trainers - 180 Dhs
Total - 7,040 Dhs
Workshop Curriculum
Day 1
Introductions
Pre-natal care: home
Identifying risky pregnancies
Pre-natal care: sbitar
Day 2
Healthy practices: preparing for birth
Healthy practices: birthing
Family planning
Hygiene
Oral rehydration
Day 3
Post-natal care
Review
Community groups meet to formulate action plan
Community groups present plan to larger group
Logistics
Transportation for the women was fairly straightforward. Mostly, they were responsible for finding their own transport. They were reimbursed at conclusion of training.
Feeding of women was difficult. Having a Moroccan family host and feed the women (women who had no family in Tounfite) was critical. It took a lot of responsibility off of the hands of the volunteer. It was expensive, but well worth the expense. We took care of break food (tea, peanuts, pastries), which was easy for volunteers who were not participating in the training to be responsible for. Having seven volunteers there to take care of various unexpected odds and ends was important.
Highlights
Organizing and participating in this training was very rewarding. The women were very appreciative and enjoyed the training. On the final day, there was a celebration dinner with an ahaydus, where the women sang praises of the volunteers.
The final session of the training, with community leaders attending, was the most important session of the training. Hopefully, it will provide the women (and volunteers) with community partners to help with further education efforts. During the session, each community group made an action plan as to how they would disseminate information to the appropriate people. The group was asked to review the lessons of the training and decide which lessons were most important in their community, based upon their health needs. Inviting men and asking them to take a stake in the health of women in their community was critical to the success of the training. It will make future work much easier. At the conclusion of the training, each community group was asking me when I was going to come to their village to do a smaller version of the workshop with them.
Another highlight from the final meeting was a particularly impassioned speech made by a 23 year-old woman from T4, named Turia. She stood up in front of women and men and demanded that people take better care of their women. She said that men had a responsibility to provide for their women. She said that women ought to stand up for one another (and themselves) when they witness oppression. She emphasized the importance of the community helping itself and not waiting for outside help to come and save it. It was a moving speech that was an excellent way to conclude the training.
Difficulties
The most difficult part of the training was the difficulty of sticking to the schedule. Events beyond anyone's control demanded that lessons be moved around. For example, each of the sage-femmes was called away to Khenifra on one of the training days, leaving the other to teach lessons by herself. Another difficulty arose when, on Thursday morning, a woman came into the maison d'accouchement in labor. With only one sage-femme at the center, we were momentarily left without a trainer. But, in this instance and others, we were flexible and made productive use of the time.
Language was a small problem. On the first day, the sage-femme leading the training was a Tamazight speaker, which made the lessons and communication easy. On the second day, the sage-femme and doctor who led the sessions were Arabic only speakers, necessitating a translator. While the translator did an admirable job, it is difficult to have as fluid of a conversation speaking through a translator.
Shame about the health topics covered was a small problem. Males were excluded from the training room for the sensitive training sessions, reducing that problem. On the last day, when men were invited, some people were uncomfortable. One man opened up the training booklet (which contains some graphic pictures), stood up, and left. He was the only one to leave, however. Although people were uncomfortable for this session, I believe that was unavoidable. The only thing I would change is to be sure that the training booklet remains closed.
Some of the women were not actively participating in the lessons. One woman fell asleep. There are a couple explanations. First, asking these women to concentrate for hours on end is inherently problematic. Most of them haven't been in a school setting for years. Second, recruiting women is difficult. It is not easy to predict (especially as a male) who will actively participate in the training. The more time spent before the training evaluating potential trainees, the better.
Organizing the training was a lot of work. Having the help of six other volunteers was critical.
Another challenge during the training was the use of handout (visual aids) that corresponded with the lessons of the training. The trainers did not consistently utilize the materials and the women had a difficult time following along. A large flip-chart, that corresponded with the handouts, would make it easier for trainees to follow along.
A three day workshop is inherently limiting. It was difficult to fit the entire curriculum into the three days an ensure that all of the women were absorbing all of the information. Narrowing the breadth of the training may be necessary.
Monitoring and Evaluation
Monitoring the ability of this training to reach its goals and objectives is both important and difficult. It is important to monitor the success of the training because doing so will inform volunteers’ future work. It is difficult because there are many complicating variables. Furthermore, the success of this training is not entirely captured by measureable numbers. Simply promoting women’s health in such a public manner was a success in itself.
The objectives for the training were mostly met. Most women were actively engaged in the lessons and were able to explain the topics to each other and volunteers when asked. There was a minority of women who did not focus on the lessons for the entirety of the training (one woman fell asleep), but these women were the exception, not the rule. Furthermore, expecting middle age women who have not been in a classroom setting for 30 years (if ever) to focus for three straight days is asking a lot. The women did remarkably well at focusing. The instructors of the training (Ministry of Health staff) deserve credit for making the lessons interesting and engaging. The objective of each community deciding upon a community action plan was also met as discussed above.
It is too early to judge whether the long-term objectives for the training have been met. Pre-natal visits and births in the maison d’accouchment can be measured by comparing Ministry statistics from before and after the training. This will not be a perfect indicator, however, as there could be other factors contributing to an increase in pre-natal visits (ie the Lougagh nurse is new; one can expect that he will get more visits as the community gains trust in him). In addition to comparing Ministry statistics, there is another method of measuring pre-natal visits and births in the health clinic. Each woman was given ten “referral” cards: a small sheet of paper with a picture of a pregnant woman going to the health clinic. Each card has the woman’s name on the back. The women were instructed to give the cards to pregnant women when they recommend a health clinic visit. The pregnant women will then give the card to the health clinic staff, to be later counted by a Peace Corps volunteer. If this system is effective, it will give a clear indication of the training’s reach and effectiveness. Three weeks after the training, early returns from the referral cards are very positive. Ten cards have been turned into the A health clinic (referrals from five different trainees) and two cards have been turned into the L health clinic (one trainee). In addition to providing volunteers with a means of monitoring activity, they also give trainees motivation to make referrals.
It will be difficult to judge whether or not deaths from diarrheal diseases decrease or contraceptive devices are used more effectively. Statistics are not currently kept on this sort of thing. Witnessing behavior change will be the surest way to judge if those lessons were effective.
If the community wide meetings hosted by women from the training, Ministry of Health staff, community leaders, and Peace Corps volunteers are held, that will be a clear indication of the training’s success. These meetings will force the communities to engage about the health issues facing them and how they can be most effectively addressed. If the meetings are well-run, then they will allow other objectives to be met. Three weeks after the training, one community meeting has been held with several others planned for the coming weeks.
Suggestions for Future Workshops
Although the workshop was interactive and engaging, improvements could been made. Any activities that force the women to stand up and physically be involved are positive. If time had permitted, the schedule would have included an entire "teach back" session, where the women are asked to teach other trainees lessons that they had just learned. This would reinforce the lessons in their heads and give them the skills for talking to other women.
Another suggestion for keeping the women engaged is to include stretching breaks with the tea breaks. Anything to get the women to stand up and move around for five minutes.
A final way of addressing the problem of inattentive women is a better recruiting and vetting process. The more time that a recruiter can spend with the women before mentioning the workshop, the better. I mentioned a speech given by Turia at the final session. In addition to that speech, she was critical in bridging the cultural gap between the Ministry of Health staff and the women. Other women were also important contributors to raising the energy level of the training and helping other women understand the difficult concepts. Recruiting is a critical step in making the training a success. Invite active, strong women. Having a variety of ages is also helpful: older women have more experience, but younger women tend to be more active. Invite community leaders who you can imagine working with after the training.
In future trainings, it would be helpful to give the women a "test" at the conclusion of the training to more formally gauge their competencies. Furthermore, having feedback from the trainees at the conclusion of the training would be a good way to improve future workshops.
Conclusions
The workshop was a very rewarding project. Hopefully, it will be a catalyst for creating wide-spread behavior change in a number of communities. It is important to emphasize, however, that the workshop is only a first step. If villages do not follow through on their community action plans, the reach of the workshop will be limited.
For any volunteer that identifies maternal and child health as a community health priority, I recommend considering a project similar to this workshop. It is an effective way of addressing the problem. However, it is critical to tailor the project to the community's assets and deficits. A community that has easy access to a functional maison d'accouchement needs a much different training than one with no access. It is also critical to consider the ability of the Ministry of Health staff to lead the training. In Tounfite, our staff is very capable and did an excellent job with the training. Two of the trainers attended last year's workshop, meaning that they had experience. Furthermore, it is important to have a common language between the MOH staff and the volunteer so there can be fluid communication about the curriculum and problems that arise during the course of the workshop. Another consideration is the size and location of the workshop. This was a large workshop in our souq town. It would be easier to facilitate a smaller workshop in the town of the women. Depending on the situation, it may be easier and more effective to have several small trainings, rather than one large one.
It is also important to consider the strengths of the volunteer. As a man, it was easier for me to persuade community leaders to attend the final session. It was also easier for me to make contacts in outer douars for recruiting. On the other hand, it was more difficult for me to thoroughly vet the women before the training. Also, I was unable to be in the training room for most of the training. An effective training is going to utilize male and female volunteers.
Thanks
This workshop would not have been possible without a long list of people. Rachida, Wafa, and Selua (Ministry of Health staff: Tounfite) did an outstanding job conducting the training; they reached out to the women and made it engaging and interactive. The Ministry of Health in Khenifra, in particular Sidi Aissa gave me permission to use their facilities, workers, and provided training booklets for the women. Sidi Aissa also helped me figure out the paperwork at the Ministry and led an excellent opening session at the workshop. The entire Tounfite health clinic staff was helpful as well, thanks to Lahcen, the Medicin Chef. Mamaksu and Baha worked day and night for 4 straight days to provide the women with food and housing. My programming staff, Mostafa Lamqaddam and Rachid Lamjaimer, provided advice and support. The volunteers who helped on the project: Kristen Apa, Taryn Weil, Dan Dutcher, Jed D’Abravanel, Eric O’Bryant, and Falisha Khan did everything I asked them to do and plenty of things I forgot to ask of them. Mark and Joyce Gromko, Mary Ellen Newport, and Kristin and David LaFever all contributed financially. Kristin and David LaFever and Mara Hansen deserve thanks for showing me how to run a workshop last year.
Update
Had first follow-up community meeting in my village (A) with men. It went quite well. I'm hoping to do similar meetings in 3-4 other villages. And meetings with women as well. I have three scheduled for next week. The main lessons are: pre-natal visits, birth in Tounfite (not in house), hygiene, and birth control.
On Monday I painted two rooms of my host family's house. I liked doing it because it was the first time that I've had a skill that people here valued (I've done lots of painting work before).
On Wednesday the local police (in Tounfite) called me during lunch and told me to come immediately to Tounfite (one hour away). They told me to bring my ID card. I told them that it expired months ago and that I had already applied to them for a new one. They had my old copy. When I got to the office, they asked me for my card. I explained to them again that they had taken my old card. They asked if I had a photocopy of the card, and I told them that it was in their files. They looked through my paperwork and sure enough, there it was. They said I could go home. Very typical.
Friday, November 13, 2009
STRIKE!
First to respond to the question: I got in touch with The National through an alumnni friend. He found out about my blog and suggested that I write an article.
STRIKE!
I came back to my site after 12 days away to find out that "the children are on strike against the teachers." This demanded more explanation.
The quality of education that kids get in my site (and much of Morocco) is bad compared with American education. There are two classrooms for six grades. In the morning, 1st and 2nd grade share one classroom (and one teacher) and 3rd grade gets the other teacher. 4th gets its own classroom in the afternoon and 5th and 6th grade share the other.
That was last year, when there were 4 teachers. This year there are three. Two of those remaining teachers do not speak Tamazight, only Arabic. The young kids don't speak any Arabic, so they mostly are just learning Arabic in the first two years.
Beyond the cramped learning conditions and language barriers, another issue is the pedagological methods used. Rote memorization combined with capital punishment for mistakes make learning difficult. Last Spring I tutored some 6th grade kids in basic math and they had a very difficult time. They were unable to think creatively and apply rules they had learned to real world situations.
The teachers don't have it easy either. They live several hours from their homes. The female teachers spend all of their time in the classroom or home; they have few friends in town. For someone from a modern city like Azrou or Khenifra, this would be very difficult. So the teachers leave frequently to go home. The director who oversees them is not around very often either.
Which brings us to the strike. Two of the teachers had left town without permission, leaving one teacher in charge of six grades. Impossible to accomplish anything so the kids "went on strike" in response. They were directed by their parents to take this action. This got the attention of the director, who came back to town. He is helping with teaching duties until the other teachers return.
It's a sad situation. In order to continue school past the 6th grade, kids have to go to Tounfite, an hour away. Of the few kids who get their parents' support to go to Tounfite, most fail out. They haven't been prepared. Parents in town complain about how bad he teachers are, but they invest little energy in their kids' education themselves. I wish the teachers were a little more invested in jobs, but I also understand their complaints. It all adds up to another generation of sheep herders.
Update
Winter is just around the corner. Nights around 0 degrees Celsius, but days are still warm - often very sunny. This fall is definitely warmer, and less rainy, than last year.
I've spent this week organizing meetings in 4 different communities. It's time to put the plans made during the workshop into action.
Early returns from the workshop are very encouraging. While I was away in Marrakech, seven pregnant women came to the health clinic for pre natal visits with a referral card from one of my trainees. In one week. Compare that to six visits for the previous month (which was unusually high) for the four clinics in my region combined. After a week there is already measureable success. The referral cards turn out to be an effective motivator in addition to a measuring tool because the trainees know their work is being monitored.
This surge of referrals is certainly due to post-workshop excitement. Hopefully community meetings can institutionalize the behavior change.
Arranging the post-workshop community meetings has been a headache. Here is what I've gone through in my village (one of four). I returned from Marrakech on Saturday evening. On Sunday, the association president asked where/when we were going to do the meeting. I told him I wanted him to make those decisions. He told me we should have it in the school on Thursday; I should go to the school director's house to seek permission. Monday at 10 I went to school; the director was not back from his weekend vacation. Tuesday at 10, I found him. He told me I couldn't have the meeting in school, so I went to the association president. He told me to try the Commune. I went to the Commune; the person in charge was not there. On a whim, I told the Khalipha (local Ministry of Interior figure) my problem. He told me that he would talk to the director and get me permission. Wednesday I went to another town. Thursday I went to the Khalipha's office, but he was gone. So I called him. He said that the director had given me permission, but not at the time I had suggested (now moved to Monday morning). A teacher had told me the classroom would be free then. So I went back to the director and asked what was up. He told me I could use the classroom, but only Sundays or after 5 pm. So I went to the association president and we decided on this Thursday at 5 pm. Then back to school for final permission from the director.
I'm doing well. The work is exciting, if frustrating. I'm getting questions from other volunteers who want to replicate the training, which is cool. On November the 12th, a new training group of volunteers swore in. The next time a new group swears in, that group will contain my replacement. This means that my training group are "seniors" - the "oldest" volunteers in country. I also found out my COS date - the date that our service is over: May 19th. I leave Morocco in just over six months.
STRIKE!
I came back to my site after 12 days away to find out that "the children are on strike against the teachers." This demanded more explanation.
The quality of education that kids get in my site (and much of Morocco) is bad compared with American education. There are two classrooms for six grades. In the morning, 1st and 2nd grade share one classroom (and one teacher) and 3rd grade gets the other teacher. 4th gets its own classroom in the afternoon and 5th and 6th grade share the other.
That was last year, when there were 4 teachers. This year there are three. Two of those remaining teachers do not speak Tamazight, only Arabic. The young kids don't speak any Arabic, so they mostly are just learning Arabic in the first two years.
Beyond the cramped learning conditions and language barriers, another issue is the pedagological methods used. Rote memorization combined with capital punishment for mistakes make learning difficult. Last Spring I tutored some 6th grade kids in basic math and they had a very difficult time. They were unable to think creatively and apply rules they had learned to real world situations.
The teachers don't have it easy either. They live several hours from their homes. The female teachers spend all of their time in the classroom or home; they have few friends in town. For someone from a modern city like Azrou or Khenifra, this would be very difficult. So the teachers leave frequently to go home. The director who oversees them is not around very often either.
Which brings us to the strike. Two of the teachers had left town without permission, leaving one teacher in charge of six grades. Impossible to accomplish anything so the kids "went on strike" in response. They were directed by their parents to take this action. This got the attention of the director, who came back to town. He is helping with teaching duties until the other teachers return.
It's a sad situation. In order to continue school past the 6th grade, kids have to go to Tounfite, an hour away. Of the few kids who get their parents' support to go to Tounfite, most fail out. They haven't been prepared. Parents in town complain about how bad he teachers are, but they invest little energy in their kids' education themselves. I wish the teachers were a little more invested in jobs, but I also understand their complaints. It all adds up to another generation of sheep herders.
Update
Winter is just around the corner. Nights around 0 degrees Celsius, but days are still warm - often very sunny. This fall is definitely warmer, and less rainy, than last year.
I've spent this week organizing meetings in 4 different communities. It's time to put the plans made during the workshop into action.
Early returns from the workshop are very encouraging. While I was away in Marrakech, seven pregnant women came to the health clinic for pre natal visits with a referral card from one of my trainees. In one week. Compare that to six visits for the previous month (which was unusually high) for the four clinics in my region combined. After a week there is already measureable success. The referral cards turn out to be an effective motivator in addition to a measuring tool because the trainees know their work is being monitored.
This surge of referrals is certainly due to post-workshop excitement. Hopefully community meetings can institutionalize the behavior change.
Arranging the post-workshop community meetings has been a headache. Here is what I've gone through in my village (one of four). I returned from Marrakech on Saturday evening. On Sunday, the association president asked where/when we were going to do the meeting. I told him I wanted him to make those decisions. He told me we should have it in the school on Thursday; I should go to the school director's house to seek permission. Monday at 10 I went to school; the director was not back from his weekend vacation. Tuesday at 10, I found him. He told me I couldn't have the meeting in school, so I went to the association president. He told me to try the Commune. I went to the Commune; the person in charge was not there. On a whim, I told the Khalipha (local Ministry of Interior figure) my problem. He told me that he would talk to the director and get me permission. Wednesday I went to another town. Thursday I went to the Khalipha's office, but he was gone. So I called him. He said that the director had given me permission, but not at the time I had suggested (now moved to Monday morning). A teacher had told me the classroom would be free then. So I went back to the director and asked what was up. He told me I could use the classroom, but only Sundays or after 5 pm. So I went to the association president and we decided on this Thursday at 5 pm. Then back to school for final permission from the director.
I'm doing well. The work is exciting, if frustrating. I'm getting questions from other volunteers who want to replicate the training, which is cool. On November the 12th, a new training group of volunteers swore in. The next time a new group swears in, that group will contain my replacement. This means that my training group are "seniors" - the "oldest" volunteers in country. I also found out my COS date - the date that our service is over: May 19th. I leave Morocco in just over six months.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Out of the Woods
I just got an article published in The National, a newspaper in the UAE. Here is that article. You can also view the article at http://www.thenational.ae/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20091105/REVIEW/711059984/1008.
I live in rural Morocco. Jbel Ayache – one of the tallest mountains in North Africa – and several other gigantic peaks tower over the village I call home. Though the mountains are beautiful, I cannot look at them without noticing how denuded they are. Almost every large tree has been cut down. Little new growth exists. The small trees and bushes that remain cling to jagged rocks.
Because of the altitude, our winters are extremely cold: we rely on wood harvested from the forest to heat our houses. In the past, the forest came up to the edge of the village. Men would cut down massive trees right by the side of the road, then sell them to big logging companies. This was a major source of village income, but those trees aren’t around anymore. Instead of picking up logs by the side of the road, the loggers now purchase harvesting rights for land deeper into the mountains. Every morning we see big lorries rumble by; in the afternoon, they rumble by again loaded high with wood.
My 73-year-old host dad has no sons, so he is responsible for collecting the family’s wood. He wakes up at five or six in the morning, rides his mule for two hours, then cuts down oak and cedar trees with an axe for at least four hours. Usually he gets back at two or three in the afternoon, eats a meal, then immediately falls asleep for the rest of the day. Waking for the evening meal, he complains about his sore joints. I once went with a friend to try my hand at cutting. Oak, I discovered, is a very hard wood, and the tree must be cut into pieces that fit on a mule’s back. Now I pay someone else 50 Moroccan dirhams (Dh24) per mule load to cut my wood for me.
The primary means of income in my village is the herding of sheep and goats. When I hike in the mountains, it is difficult to be alone; I inevitably run into a shepherd and his sheep. These animals – there are hundreds of thousands of them – eat any shoot poking out of the ground, effectively destroying the next generation of trees. But people have lived and herded in these mountains for centuries without placing undue stress on their resources. I asked my host father, who loves to talk about the past, what had changed. “The road changed everything,” he told me. Twenty-five years ago, lorries couldn’t reach the forest. Selling sheep at souq meant crossing a 10,000 foot mountain, which cut into profits. Anyway, there was a much lower demand for meat in urban Moroccan markets, as few people could afford it.
A village 28 kilometres away from mine has already cut down all the trees from the land near their village. The wealthiest residents buy their wood from neighbouring towns. Most people, however, can only burn small, dried-up bushes that barely produce enough heat to cook food, let alone heat a house. I have been to this village in winter. The herders and their flocks are gone in search of warmer weather. Those who remain wear thick wool jellabas to attempt to keep out the cold. During the day, people rarely leave the house, and most conversations focus on how cold it is. Nights are spent huddled together in a common room.
The example of our neighbours is just one of many reminders of the dangers of resource depletion. The scope of the problem – dwindling forests, scarce grazing land, water washing away unanchored topsoil – is obvious to anyone who is remotely involved in community life. Yet next to no action has been taken. Morocco’s department of water and forest has even offered villages like mine a deal: they will plant trees if everyone agrees to stay off the land for five to 10 years, until the trees mature. Furthermore, they will compensate the community to the tune of 250 Moroccan dirhams (Dh120) per hectare per year. But very few communities, including mine, have accepted the offer; even when they have, the promise to stay off the land has typically been broken.
Because enforcement is lax, no individual has any incentive to change his consumption. This applies even to would-be conservationists: unless everyone is on board, one family’s sacrifice won’t protect the resource. If, for example, my friend Driss reduced his flock from 200 to 100 sheep, it would make his family much poorer. And without similar action from other community members, it would make no difference: someone else would probably respond by increasing the size of their flock. It wouldn’t be hard: giving away sheep is a common government practice. Just recently, the King distributed a gift of 5,000 sheep to the residents of our nearest market town. Even if an entire community wanted to sign on to the government deal, they would surely be wary of neighbouring villages taking advantage of their now-unguarded grazing land. This is partially a standard tragedy of the commons, and partially bad blood: before the French colonised this part of Morocco, these tribes often fought each other.
The solution is elusive, and there’s no quick fix. Topsoil takes a long time to build up to the point where it can support trees. All I can see when I climb these mountains is loose rock. This autumn, there have been heavy thunderstorms, and there is no soil to absorb rainfall anymore, so the water rushes downhill. Our rivers run brown with the last dregs of our soil. Last Saturday, some nearby fields were completely washed away, their corn completely destroyed. Several families lost their apple crops. Within the week, the men will be back in the forest, doing the only thing they can to stay warm: cutting down more trees.
Update
Im in Marrakech now, helping with In Service Training (IST) for newer volunteers. They've been in site for 6 months now, so this training is supposed to help them think about how they can use what they've learned about their sites to implement projects. Me and 5 other volunteers from my training stage were invited to talk about our projects and how the lessons we've learned are applicable in others' sites. It's been a good experience; I believe that I've been helpful.
One very positive thing about IST has been seeing the other 5 volunteers from my stage. I'm sometimes negative about Peace Corps and the small impact that volunteers have, but these 5 have all successfully implemented substantial projects in their sites. I'm also hearing about others who aren't here who have done some cool projects. It looks like, when we leave this country, my training group will have a long list of positive projects to point to, which is a good feeling.
One negative thing is that I question the unintended consequences of some of the projects. Specifically, trash and waste management. One volunteer has implemented a project in their site where the community gathers trash in a central location, then burns the trash in an incinerator purchased by a Peace Corps grant written by the volunteer. Burning trash is illegal in America because it releases dioxins (carcinogenic) into the air. When volunteers talk about the health impact of leaving trash laying around, they talk about flies and water contamination, which are products of food and animal waste, not plastic. The project may be creating a public health problem where little/none existed (plastic sitting on the ground does release polycarbons on a slow time scale). I'm not going to get into more detail because I don't want to be overly critical.
Finally, the big news from IST is that we got to hear Hillary Clinton speak. She was in Marrakech for an international forum on Middle Eastern business climate. Us PC volunteers went over to the palace where the forum was, and she found 30 minutes to talk to us and State Department staff. CNN covered the event: http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/11/03/morocco.us.peace.corp.senior/index.html?section=cnn_latest.
It was pretty fun. Several people shook her hand (I was stuck in the middle of the row, far from the lucky ones in the aisle). As always, I can't help finding a negative side to any positive story. It sucks that Clinton focused on the oldness of one particular volunteer, rather than the productiveness of all volunteers. I hope I don't sound like a bitter guy saying this and I do think being an 85 year old in PC is pretty cool. But I believe that PC is generally perceived as this quirky organization that doesn't accomplish anything tangible. It would have been nice for Clinton to talk about the work that volunteers do in Morocco, rather than the age of one. Do I sound bitter?
Hope all is well! Going back to my site today and tomorrow.
I live in rural Morocco. Jbel Ayache – one of the tallest mountains in North Africa – and several other gigantic peaks tower over the village I call home. Though the mountains are beautiful, I cannot look at them without noticing how denuded they are. Almost every large tree has been cut down. Little new growth exists. The small trees and bushes that remain cling to jagged rocks.
Because of the altitude, our winters are extremely cold: we rely on wood harvested from the forest to heat our houses. In the past, the forest came up to the edge of the village. Men would cut down massive trees right by the side of the road, then sell them to big logging companies. This was a major source of village income, but those trees aren’t around anymore. Instead of picking up logs by the side of the road, the loggers now purchase harvesting rights for land deeper into the mountains. Every morning we see big lorries rumble by; in the afternoon, they rumble by again loaded high with wood.
My 73-year-old host dad has no sons, so he is responsible for collecting the family’s wood. He wakes up at five or six in the morning, rides his mule for two hours, then cuts down oak and cedar trees with an axe for at least four hours. Usually he gets back at two or three in the afternoon, eats a meal, then immediately falls asleep for the rest of the day. Waking for the evening meal, he complains about his sore joints. I once went with a friend to try my hand at cutting. Oak, I discovered, is a very hard wood, and the tree must be cut into pieces that fit on a mule’s back. Now I pay someone else 50 Moroccan dirhams (Dh24) per mule load to cut my wood for me.
The primary means of income in my village is the herding of sheep and goats. When I hike in the mountains, it is difficult to be alone; I inevitably run into a shepherd and his sheep. These animals – there are hundreds of thousands of them – eat any shoot poking out of the ground, effectively destroying the next generation of trees. But people have lived and herded in these mountains for centuries without placing undue stress on their resources. I asked my host father, who loves to talk about the past, what had changed. “The road changed everything,” he told me. Twenty-five years ago, lorries couldn’t reach the forest. Selling sheep at souq meant crossing a 10,000 foot mountain, which cut into profits. Anyway, there was a much lower demand for meat in urban Moroccan markets, as few people could afford it.
A village 28 kilometres away from mine has already cut down all the trees from the land near their village. The wealthiest residents buy their wood from neighbouring towns. Most people, however, can only burn small, dried-up bushes that barely produce enough heat to cook food, let alone heat a house. I have been to this village in winter. The herders and their flocks are gone in search of warmer weather. Those who remain wear thick wool jellabas to attempt to keep out the cold. During the day, people rarely leave the house, and most conversations focus on how cold it is. Nights are spent huddled together in a common room.
The example of our neighbours is just one of many reminders of the dangers of resource depletion. The scope of the problem – dwindling forests, scarce grazing land, water washing away unanchored topsoil – is obvious to anyone who is remotely involved in community life. Yet next to no action has been taken. Morocco’s department of water and forest has even offered villages like mine a deal: they will plant trees if everyone agrees to stay off the land for five to 10 years, until the trees mature. Furthermore, they will compensate the community to the tune of 250 Moroccan dirhams (Dh120) per hectare per year. But very few communities, including mine, have accepted the offer; even when they have, the promise to stay off the land has typically been broken.
Because enforcement is lax, no individual has any incentive to change his consumption. This applies even to would-be conservationists: unless everyone is on board, one family’s sacrifice won’t protect the resource. If, for example, my friend Driss reduced his flock from 200 to 100 sheep, it would make his family much poorer. And without similar action from other community members, it would make no difference: someone else would probably respond by increasing the size of their flock. It wouldn’t be hard: giving away sheep is a common government practice. Just recently, the King distributed a gift of 5,000 sheep to the residents of our nearest market town. Even if an entire community wanted to sign on to the government deal, they would surely be wary of neighbouring villages taking advantage of their now-unguarded grazing land. This is partially a standard tragedy of the commons, and partially bad blood: before the French colonised this part of Morocco, these tribes often fought each other.
The solution is elusive, and there’s no quick fix. Topsoil takes a long time to build up to the point where it can support trees. All I can see when I climb these mountains is loose rock. This autumn, there have been heavy thunderstorms, and there is no soil to absorb rainfall anymore, so the water rushes downhill. Our rivers run brown with the last dregs of our soil. Last Saturday, some nearby fields were completely washed away, their corn completely destroyed. Several families lost their apple crops. Within the week, the men will be back in the forest, doing the only thing they can to stay warm: cutting down more trees.
Update
Im in Marrakech now, helping with In Service Training (IST) for newer volunteers. They've been in site for 6 months now, so this training is supposed to help them think about how they can use what they've learned about their sites to implement projects. Me and 5 other volunteers from my training stage were invited to talk about our projects and how the lessons we've learned are applicable in others' sites. It's been a good experience; I believe that I've been helpful.
One very positive thing about IST has been seeing the other 5 volunteers from my stage. I'm sometimes negative about Peace Corps and the small impact that volunteers have, but these 5 have all successfully implemented substantial projects in their sites. I'm also hearing about others who aren't here who have done some cool projects. It looks like, when we leave this country, my training group will have a long list of positive projects to point to, which is a good feeling.
One negative thing is that I question the unintended consequences of some of the projects. Specifically, trash and waste management. One volunteer has implemented a project in their site where the community gathers trash in a central location, then burns the trash in an incinerator purchased by a Peace Corps grant written by the volunteer. Burning trash is illegal in America because it releases dioxins (carcinogenic) into the air. When volunteers talk about the health impact of leaving trash laying around, they talk about flies and water contamination, which are products of food and animal waste, not plastic. The project may be creating a public health problem where little/none existed (plastic sitting on the ground does release polycarbons on a slow time scale). I'm not going to get into more detail because I don't want to be overly critical.
Finally, the big news from IST is that we got to hear Hillary Clinton speak. She was in Marrakech for an international forum on Middle Eastern business climate. Us PC volunteers went over to the palace where the forum was, and she found 30 minutes to talk to us and State Department staff. CNN covered the event: http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/11/03/morocco.us.peace.corp.senior/index.html?section=cnn_latest.
It was pretty fun. Several people shook her hand (I was stuck in the middle of the row, far from the lucky ones in the aisle). As always, I can't help finding a negative side to any positive story. It sucks that Clinton focused on the oldness of one particular volunteer, rather than the productiveness of all volunteers. I hope I don't sound like a bitter guy saying this and I do think being an 85 year old in PC is pretty cool. But I believe that PC is generally perceived as this quirky organization that doesn't accomplish anything tangible. It would have been nice for Clinton to talk about the work that volunteers do in Morocco, rather than the age of one. Do I sound bitter?
Hope all is well! Going back to my site today and tomorrow.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Maternal and Child Health Workshop
First, thanks for the comments. I enjoy sharing the experiences that I've had in Morocco and I'm glad that other people enjoy reading about them.
On the 28th, 29th, and 30th of October, I hosted a Maternal and Child Workshop for 25 local women in my souq town. I'm going to write up a long report of it at some point and post that report here, but in the mean time, here is an account of the workshop.
I started thinking about this workshop one year ago, when Mara Hansen, another volunteer, hosted a similar one that I was involved in. In June and July of this year, I started recruiting women for the workshop. This involved riding my bike a lot to different villages, trying to find interested women. Luckily I had built up relationships in these villages in the past year. Early in the summer I also started talking with the doctors and midwives about the curriculum for the training and when we ought to host it. Simultaneously, I was working with the Ministry of Health in my provincial capital to make sure that we had there support.
After some miscommunication and scheduling difficulties with the Ministry, the training was officially scheduled for October 28, 29, 30. So I had to go back to each village to tell the women the details. Then, a week before the stage, I had to start working on logistical details for the women.
Tuesday afternoon (27th), there were some 10 women in Tounfite. We had dinner with them at a family's house who was hosting the women for the week. They were in a good mood. I was feeling very nervous. There were still 15 women missing! I knew that some of them would be staying with family in Tounfite and that others would be coming early tomorrow morning, but, throughout the training, I was often worried about things that I could not control.
Wednesday morning we met at the health clinic. Two Ministry midwives were supposed to be leading the training, but just that morning one had been called away to Khenifra for a Ministry meeting. The one who had been called away (named Wafa) was at last year's training, so she was going to be taking the lead; this was a disappointing development. The other midwife (Rachida), although inexperienced, spoke Tamazight, which is a big help because it means that the training can move more quickly and fluidly without waiting for translations. The other headache of that day was that the Ministry of Health officials (who were giving introductory remarks)coming from Khenifra were 45 minutes late. They also didn't bring the right number of booklets for the women. Besides these two difficulties, I think the first day went really well. At dinner that night, women who had attended last year's training told me that they liked Rachida a lot because she was a Tamazight speaker. The main lessons for that day were pre natale care and birthing.
Thursday was filled with more complications. Today, Wafa was in Tounfite, but Rachida was called away to Khenifra. After 30 minutes of Wafa leading the session, there was a minor emergency. A woman came into the health clinic: she was in labor! Wafa obviously had to go take care of the situation, so me and the other volunteers quickly talked about what we were going to do to fill the time. We didn't know how long Wafa would be gone. We decided to break the women up into small groups and have each volunteer lead a small review session. The session with my small group went really well; the women were engaged and on top of the material. My group happened to have my host mom in it; she was ashamed at times to be talking about birthing stuff in front of me.
The woman in labor ended up needing more attention than the Tounfite health clinic could provide her, so she was driven to Midelt in an ambulance, with Wafa staying behind. (I was relieved that the woman was having complications and needed to be driven away - how awful is that?) Wafa returned to the training room and got things going again. The rest of that morning went well.
Thursday afternoon, the doctor from my village came and did basic hygiene and first aid lessons with the women. She was visibly impatient with their lack of focus, but on the other hand, she did a good job of calling women out and making sure that they understood the lessons. Later in the afternoon, myself and other volunteers led two health lessons. In the first lesson, we did a skit where a man (me) coming back from the bathroom doesn't wash his hands with soap and he gets sick. When we asked the women why he was sick, they were quick to say that he hadn't washed the microbes off of his hands. This was a great confirmation that they had understood the doctor's lesson from earlier that afternoon. (Throughout the training, at meals, the women consistently washed their hands with soap. This doesn't sound like much, but it's a huge deal. And if a woman didn't wash with soap, the others would yell at her.) The other lesson was about making oral rehydration liquid, which is for people with diarrhea. I had been nervous about having volunteers lead lessons, but I think we did a really good job of it. Our lessons were more interactive than the ministry's lessons and I think the women enjoyed seeing us up there.
Friday morning, the women covered post natale care and family planning. I wasn't present in the actual training room, but female volunteers who were there told me that a condom was passed around (a big deal). Family planning is a critical lesson because lots of women don't understand how to take birth control correctly, resulting in unwanted pregnancies. In my opinion, the best way to reduce maternal and infant mortality is to prevent unwanted pregnancies.
Friday afternoon was the big finale. I had invited men from every village. The men I invited were those who had helped me recruit women from their village. We broke into 4 different groups, clustered by tribal relationships (Ait Moussa, Ait Fadouli, Ait Sliman, and Ait Tounfite). In the small groups, with the help of a volunteer facilitating the discussion, the women were supposed to quickly summarize the five most important lessons of the workshop (importance of seeking pre natale care, importance of birthing in the health clinic, hygiene, oral rehydration liquide, and family planning). Then, the men and women were supposed to discuss amongst themselves what the biggest health problems were in their village and which lesson best applied to that health problem. They were supposed to discuss the idiosyncrasies of their village (eg Ait Sliman is especially far from a health clinic) and what that meant for their ability to implement the lessons from the training. THEN, the group was supposed to decide what was the best course of action. Working first with the Ait Moussa group, our discussion went really well. One of the men took the lead (I'd asked him to do so beforehand) and did a great job of directing the conversation. We decided that we needed to have one meeting with men (mostly about importance of pre natale visits) and one meeting with women (about a range of lessons). The man would be in charge of inviting people. Our doctor will be invited and I will help her and the women communicate the lessons. After finishing with Ait Moussa, I helped Ait Sliman, which was (unsuprisingly) a little more difficult. However, in the end, they came to the same conclusion: that they needed to do community meetings and education with the help of me and their nurse. I was really nervous about this part of the workshop, but it could not have gone better. I believe it was the most important session and that it will be the catalyst to significant behavior change in my communities...we'll see.
After meeting in the small groups (and tea), we reconvened in a big group. A representative from each group had to explain their group's community plan. Tounfite, Ait Moussa, and Ait Sliman did a pretty good job of explaining to the others what they wanted to do. A woman from Tounfite did an excellent job; the work that will happen in Tounfite as a result of this training should be very good. Finally, was Ait Fadouli. No men from their villages had shown up, so it was mostly up to this 23 year old woman from a particuraly isolated village to lead the charge. She is unmarried and has worked in Rabat and Casablanca; clearly an anomaly in her village. She has a very strong personality.
She stood up and made the best speech that I have ever heard in person. The theme of her speech was that people in these villages need to help each other; the government is corrupt and sitting on its hands. Basically, it's up to us to help ourselves. She told the men that it was shameful for them sit not take care of their women; that the women were the heart and soul of the family and that they deserved proper care. She told the women that it was shameful for them to be witness to the oppression of their sisters, friends, and themselves and not stand up for themselves. She told the women that they had to be more assertive and less afraid. I'm so glad that my Tamazight has gotten to a level where I could understand what she said, because it was amazing. Sitting there in the room at the culmination of the training, I was fighting back tears.
It's hard not to feel really good about the training. I felt like I was taking a risk by inviting the men and asking them to engage with womens' problems, but they did. The whole time I was nervous because I had very little control over whether or not people were going to invest in the training. But I think that's a good sign that I'm doing development work: in the end, people have to help themselves.
But this is really just the beginning. I have 6 villages that are now asking me to come smaller, one day versions of this workshop in their community. That, ultimately, was what I wanted from the training, but it's going to be a lot of work. If those meetings happen, I think it will validate the training. Another way we have of measuring the impact of the training is that we gave each woman a "referral" card, which has a picture of a pregnant lady going to the health clinic. Each card has the name of the woman on it. The idea is that the woman will give the card to her pregnant woman to remind her to go to the health clinic, who will then give the card to the doctor at the clinic. That way we will be able to count a) if people are making referrals and b) which women are making those referrals. I'm a little unsure about whether people will buy into the idea of referral cards, but I think it's worth trying. Another way to measure the effectiveness of the training is to compare number of pre natal visits before and after the training, but that's not a great method of measuring
In conclusion, it was a great week. The women were happy all week long and I think they absorbed some valuable information. I want to thank: the volunteers who helped me run the training (Kristen, Eric, Jed, Falisha, Taryn, and Dan), the volunteers who built my capacity to do this (Mara, Dave, and Kristin), the Ministry of Health staff who helped run the training (Selua, Wafa, and Rachida), the Ministry of Health people in Khenifra who gave me the stamp of approval (mostly Sidi Aissa), my PC programming staff (Mostafa and Rachid), the family who housed and fed the women for the training (Mamaksu and Baha) and most importantly, the women and men who came, participated, and engaged.
Update
I'm in Marrakech, leading sessions for IST (in-service training) for volunteers who have been in the country since March. I have a lot of free time here in between sessions and unlimited computer access (with Internet), so I'm going to be working on my grad school apps.
On the 28th, 29th, and 30th of October, I hosted a Maternal and Child Workshop for 25 local women in my souq town. I'm going to write up a long report of it at some point and post that report here, but in the mean time, here is an account of the workshop.
I started thinking about this workshop one year ago, when Mara Hansen, another volunteer, hosted a similar one that I was involved in. In June and July of this year, I started recruiting women for the workshop. This involved riding my bike a lot to different villages, trying to find interested women. Luckily I had built up relationships in these villages in the past year. Early in the summer I also started talking with the doctors and midwives about the curriculum for the training and when we ought to host it. Simultaneously, I was working with the Ministry of Health in my provincial capital to make sure that we had there support.
After some miscommunication and scheduling difficulties with the Ministry, the training was officially scheduled for October 28, 29, 30. So I had to go back to each village to tell the women the details. Then, a week before the stage, I had to start working on logistical details for the women.
Tuesday afternoon (27th), there were some 10 women in Tounfite. We had dinner with them at a family's house who was hosting the women for the week. They were in a good mood. I was feeling very nervous. There were still 15 women missing! I knew that some of them would be staying with family in Tounfite and that others would be coming early tomorrow morning, but, throughout the training, I was often worried about things that I could not control.
Wednesday morning we met at the health clinic. Two Ministry midwives were supposed to be leading the training, but just that morning one had been called away to Khenifra for a Ministry meeting. The one who had been called away (named Wafa) was at last year's training, so she was going to be taking the lead; this was a disappointing development. The other midwife (Rachida), although inexperienced, spoke Tamazight, which is a big help because it means that the training can move more quickly and fluidly without waiting for translations. The other headache of that day was that the Ministry of Health officials (who were giving introductory remarks)coming from Khenifra were 45 minutes late. They also didn't bring the right number of booklets for the women. Besides these two difficulties, I think the first day went really well. At dinner that night, women who had attended last year's training told me that they liked Rachida a lot because she was a Tamazight speaker. The main lessons for that day were pre natale care and birthing.
Thursday was filled with more complications. Today, Wafa was in Tounfite, but Rachida was called away to Khenifra. After 30 minutes of Wafa leading the session, there was a minor emergency. A woman came into the health clinic: she was in labor! Wafa obviously had to go take care of the situation, so me and the other volunteers quickly talked about what we were going to do to fill the time. We didn't know how long Wafa would be gone. We decided to break the women up into small groups and have each volunteer lead a small review session. The session with my small group went really well; the women were engaged and on top of the material. My group happened to have my host mom in it; she was ashamed at times to be talking about birthing stuff in front of me.
The woman in labor ended up needing more attention than the Tounfite health clinic could provide her, so she was driven to Midelt in an ambulance, with Wafa staying behind. (I was relieved that the woman was having complications and needed to be driven away - how awful is that?) Wafa returned to the training room and got things going again. The rest of that morning went well.
Thursday afternoon, the doctor from my village came and did basic hygiene and first aid lessons with the women. She was visibly impatient with their lack of focus, but on the other hand, she did a good job of calling women out and making sure that they understood the lessons. Later in the afternoon, myself and other volunteers led two health lessons. In the first lesson, we did a skit where a man (me) coming back from the bathroom doesn't wash his hands with soap and he gets sick. When we asked the women why he was sick, they were quick to say that he hadn't washed the microbes off of his hands. This was a great confirmation that they had understood the doctor's lesson from earlier that afternoon. (Throughout the training, at meals, the women consistently washed their hands with soap. This doesn't sound like much, but it's a huge deal. And if a woman didn't wash with soap, the others would yell at her.) The other lesson was about making oral rehydration liquid, which is for people with diarrhea. I had been nervous about having volunteers lead lessons, but I think we did a really good job of it. Our lessons were more interactive than the ministry's lessons and I think the women enjoyed seeing us up there.
Friday morning, the women covered post natale care and family planning. I wasn't present in the actual training room, but female volunteers who were there told me that a condom was passed around (a big deal). Family planning is a critical lesson because lots of women don't understand how to take birth control correctly, resulting in unwanted pregnancies. In my opinion, the best way to reduce maternal and infant mortality is to prevent unwanted pregnancies.
Friday afternoon was the big finale. I had invited men from every village. The men I invited were those who had helped me recruit women from their village. We broke into 4 different groups, clustered by tribal relationships (Ait Moussa, Ait Fadouli, Ait Sliman, and Ait Tounfite). In the small groups, with the help of a volunteer facilitating the discussion, the women were supposed to quickly summarize the five most important lessons of the workshop (importance of seeking pre natale care, importance of birthing in the health clinic, hygiene, oral rehydration liquide, and family planning). Then, the men and women were supposed to discuss amongst themselves what the biggest health problems were in their village and which lesson best applied to that health problem. They were supposed to discuss the idiosyncrasies of their village (eg Ait Sliman is especially far from a health clinic) and what that meant for their ability to implement the lessons from the training. THEN, the group was supposed to decide what was the best course of action. Working first with the Ait Moussa group, our discussion went really well. One of the men took the lead (I'd asked him to do so beforehand) and did a great job of directing the conversation. We decided that we needed to have one meeting with men (mostly about importance of pre natale visits) and one meeting with women (about a range of lessons). The man would be in charge of inviting people. Our doctor will be invited and I will help her and the women communicate the lessons. After finishing with Ait Moussa, I helped Ait Sliman, which was (unsuprisingly) a little more difficult. However, in the end, they came to the same conclusion: that they needed to do community meetings and education with the help of me and their nurse. I was really nervous about this part of the workshop, but it could not have gone better. I believe it was the most important session and that it will be the catalyst to significant behavior change in my communities...we'll see.
After meeting in the small groups (and tea), we reconvened in a big group. A representative from each group had to explain their group's community plan. Tounfite, Ait Moussa, and Ait Sliman did a pretty good job of explaining to the others what they wanted to do. A woman from Tounfite did an excellent job; the work that will happen in Tounfite as a result of this training should be very good. Finally, was Ait Fadouli. No men from their villages had shown up, so it was mostly up to this 23 year old woman from a particuraly isolated village to lead the charge. She is unmarried and has worked in Rabat and Casablanca; clearly an anomaly in her village. She has a very strong personality.
She stood up and made the best speech that I have ever heard in person. The theme of her speech was that people in these villages need to help each other; the government is corrupt and sitting on its hands. Basically, it's up to us to help ourselves. She told the men that it was shameful for them sit not take care of their women; that the women were the heart and soul of the family and that they deserved proper care. She told the women that it was shameful for them to be witness to the oppression of their sisters, friends, and themselves and not stand up for themselves. She told the women that they had to be more assertive and less afraid. I'm so glad that my Tamazight has gotten to a level where I could understand what she said, because it was amazing. Sitting there in the room at the culmination of the training, I was fighting back tears.
It's hard not to feel really good about the training. I felt like I was taking a risk by inviting the men and asking them to engage with womens' problems, but they did. The whole time I was nervous because I had very little control over whether or not people were going to invest in the training. But I think that's a good sign that I'm doing development work: in the end, people have to help themselves.
But this is really just the beginning. I have 6 villages that are now asking me to come smaller, one day versions of this workshop in their community. That, ultimately, was what I wanted from the training, but it's going to be a lot of work. If those meetings happen, I think it will validate the training. Another way we have of measuring the impact of the training is that we gave each woman a "referral" card, which has a picture of a pregnant lady going to the health clinic. Each card has the name of the woman on it. The idea is that the woman will give the card to her pregnant woman to remind her to go to the health clinic, who will then give the card to the doctor at the clinic. That way we will be able to count a) if people are making referrals and b) which women are making those referrals. I'm a little unsure about whether people will buy into the idea of referral cards, but I think it's worth trying. Another way to measure the effectiveness of the training is to compare number of pre natal visits before and after the training, but that's not a great method of measuring
In conclusion, it was a great week. The women were happy all week long and I think they absorbed some valuable information. I want to thank: the volunteers who helped me run the training (Kristen, Eric, Jed, Falisha, Taryn, and Dan), the volunteers who built my capacity to do this (Mara, Dave, and Kristin), the Ministry of Health staff who helped run the training (Selua, Wafa, and Rachida), the Ministry of Health people in Khenifra who gave me the stamp of approval (mostly Sidi Aissa), my PC programming staff (Mostafa and Rachid), the family who housed and fed the women for the training (Mamaksu and Baha) and most importantly, the women and men who came, participated, and engaged.
Update
I'm in Marrakech, leading sessions for IST (in-service training) for volunteers who have been in the country since March. I have a lot of free time here in between sessions and unlimited computer access (with Internet), so I'm going to be working on my grad school apps.
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