Trying something new

As I was on my transit ride back home, after my last blog, I was thinking of how my last two entries have not been so positive and/or informative.  I am going to try and keep a daily journal on my computer and post that so you all have a better idea of daily life.  When I go to the cyber I am usually rushed and just brush through what I have been doing or vent slightly because I don’t have any other outlets.  Anyways, I want to make it very clear that I am extremely happy here.  My home is amazing, the people are amazing and life here is amazing.  However, I must admit that this is probably the most challenging part of my time, hopefully, here in Morocco.  I say this because I have been planted in a small village all alone where no one speaks English, well; one younger boy does that is away at school 6 days a week.  When I say away, I mean away.  The adolescents that actually are still in school through high school, board there, because it is usually too far away to transit them in and out of the mountains every day.  I have already asked him if he would be willing to help me when my tutor goes back to work with the next group of volunteers coming in, in March. To add to that side thought, there is an elementary school in my village but once the youth gets to 6^th grade they go to a school a few villages away, still in the mountains.  Once they reach high school they go to the bigger towns.  This can be looked at positively because at least there is an option, however many kids “exit”, that is the way they put it, school because it is not local or they can’t afford to go to high school.   I know I change subjects a lot, but some topics just need explanations.  But anyways back to my life here.  I have been put here in a totally “foreign” place, not knowing a lot of the language and expected to survive, which is a challenge that I wanted.  It just can be mentally and emotionally draining some days.  Such is expected and only natural. It is not supposed to be easy.  Heck, if life were easy it wouldn’t be worth living, right?  People day in and out tell me I don’t know, yet have not offered to help or even slow down when they speak. However, I have all kinds of love here and every day I am reminded why I am happy to be here.  Yet, there are always those people, no matter where you go, that want to “control” you, tell you how to do things, tell you “you don’t know,” don’t understand why you are here.  In time this will all slow down.  Also, I have still yet to break all the women’s hearts when I finally tell them I am not here to weave.  The volunteer before me was an artist so she took on a different role than me.  This is actually good because now I am here with different ideas, but every day I am haggled about when I am going to start weaving.  Although, finally, last night I was back at my host family’s house having dinner and before dinner I was talking with my aunts in the traditional kitchen, as the couscous was simmering.  We were talking about how my tutor may come up and help me have an assessment meeting with the women about why I am here and what they want from me.  I started to explain about how I can help with marketing, quality, business ideas and I am not like the previous volunteer, which I have explained to some before.  But when I started to say how volunteers aren’t here to weave my one aunt interrupted me by saying “I know you all aren’t here to weave you are here to work.”  Let me tell you a ton of bricks came off my back!!  I just said thank you, thank you, thank you…now tell the rest of them that, just jokingly.  The other 2 thought my reaction was hilarious! They understand where I am coming from…they are a few of the women I really trust and have opened up to already.  These things are not unexpected and I know it is just cultural.  All these people treat me as I am their child, which is ok, they mean no harm, but sometimes enough is enough.  Each day I am meeting more and more people and things are coming around slowly.  Enough of that, now you all understand a little of what I am dealing with, back to my daily life.  Here is a little side story to illustrate common life here.  When I go to town I usually spend all day until right before dark.  Well so does everyone else, so the transit vans are so full, to the point where you are lucky to have a seat or half of one. Yesterday, souk day, I had about three bags from souk and I am one of the last ones on the already too full bus. Luckily, there was a seat next to a holy, innocent, little old man.  They call these older men that have been to pilgrimage (Mecca), LHaj. They are treated with the upmost respect by everyone.  But anyways, the way up the mountain can be a bumpy curvy ride and at one curve the man accidentally leaned into my breast and I think it scared the bjeebees out of him.  He held onto the railing the rest of the ride.  I felt so bad for him, but just an example of how packed these transit vans are, some things cannot be avoided.  When the van reached my village I noticed all the women of the association sitting outside the building so I dropped my stuff in the house and hurried to the association, because if they are all there, something is happening.  Which I knew they were expecting the president of another local association to come in order to do some paperwork and handle some “problems” concerning looms that 2 women have taken to their homes to use at their leisure, that belong to the association.   I got there just in time when the man arrived and we had a “meeting”, which turned into a chance for all the women to argue and vent.  It was quite interesting and I was glad to be there to understand what is going on within my association and more of what is going in my village as a whole.  This was a huge deal for the village, even men came up to the association and were looking in the door and windows, and some even came in for a closer look.  So it was dark by the time this whole ordeal was done and that is why I was at my host family’s house last night. No one will let me walk home after dark.  I need to work on that one, but I am afraid of stray dogs anyway, especially these ones.  So this morning, as I was sitting having breakfast drinking this amazing coffee, basically coffee made with milk, I miss it so much. I don’t even drink coffee but theirs is so good.  Also eating the fresh olive oil and fresh baked bread I asked my mom where I can buy the local olive oil and she told me to ask my tutor to get it for me.  He is from her town where there are a lot of Lmessirts.  These are basically where they produce fresh olive oil.  Then, little did I know, she invited me to go to her village with her for the day, and I was able to see how they make the olive oil, bring some back with me, and I met her family.  I tell ya, everyday is something new and unexpected.  So, I thought these Lmessirts were separate buildings on their own where men go to work every day but they are within the family compounds and her uncle operates one.  Next time I will go equipped with my camera to have pictures for you all.  Here is my best illustration.  Basically, the olives are put into a huge pit like contraption with a grinder.  Wow, this is hard to describe.  The grinder is attached to a mule and the mule walks in circles around the pit to make the grinder go, which mashes the olives. Yes, they switch out the mules.  Then they gather the mashed olives in these flattened straw “baskets” and stack the baskets atop each other.  Then a machine slowly pushes down on these “baskets” squeezing all the oil out into a tank, where the oil is then filtered and you have fresh olive oil.  I hope that is easy to understand.  Plus, I am slowly forgetting English so certain words just aren’t at the top of my head anymore.  After the Lmessirt and lunch at her brother’s house, which is the house she grew up in, we went to a gathering like “calling hours”.  I guess that was why she was going to her village, but I did not know this.  That was interesting, the way the men and women gather separately and the men chant/sing verses of the Koran.  It was pretty intense.  I felt a little awkward, because I had never met any of these people and they were all in mourning but it was worth it…meeting new people and experiencing something new. Then it was back to our village and here I am.  Also, to add one more story of life here in Morocco.  So, all the taxi/transit drivers know me and where I live, even if I have never spoken to them.  As soon as I walk up someone will say climb in and the name of my village/area, and I don’t even know them.  This is just fine, sometimes it is better to be known then unknown, because they all look out for me and help me, especially when I was bringing everything up for my house.  Well today one finally asked me for my name and I told him Sara, my Moroccan name. So when the transit was pulling off he said “Bye Sokayna” and everyone around was like her name is Sokayna, he said ”Ya, she told me her name.” I didn’t correct him and my host mom could barely hold her laugh in as we pulled off.  I told her no problem, I like it like that.  Now consider, I am one of only 3 “foreigners” going up and down this mountain on public transit that I know of.  The other 2 are fellow volunteers.  Also, there is only one stand to catch taxis up my mountain range.  Yes, they are used to tourist but they would never use public transport, so I am basically their only source of entertainment.  Plus, they wouldn’t dare communicate with a local, veiled woman in public that is not related to them.  I can’t wait to see how this pans out when they find out my name is not Sokayna. Signing out on this Thursday night, the 13^th of January, 2011.  I am going to study some words for my talk tomorrow about our upcoming workshop.  I didn’t get to talk to my counterpart about it last night because of all the excitement with the meeting. Ok so it is Saturday, I am in town today to check the bus schedule and I went to the Hammam...boy did I need that!  However I forgot my gel and my hair is going crazy!  As of right now only my counterpart is going to the workshop with me but that is ok.  Maybe when I return to site I will have another woman  going.  This is a free trip away for these women and a chance for them to meet new people as well as see women they already know.  However, alot of the women of the association either have children or they are the "chore" person of the house so they can not leave for a whole week.  I thouht for sure that I would have women fighting over the other spot but instead I am begging for another to go.  It would be really beneficial for them as well.  When I say chore person, I meant they are the one that does the cooking, cleaning, handles the livestock and goes out to the fields daily to get firewood or pick plants for dinner.  Usually this is a daughter or a still unmarried women of the family still living within the quarters of her own family.  Once a woman is married she moves into the quarters of her husband.  So life is good, as of now I am leaving tomorrow for Taznacht which is about an hour south of Ouarzazate and will return on the following Saturday.  I will be sure to take pictures and let you all know how things go at the workshop.  I am really excited to see how this works out.  Plus it will be a good time with my counterpart and I to meet new people and see new places.