Azrou

It seems like so much has happened, yet it has only been a few days since I last wrote. The days here are incredibly long! They say time flies when you travel, but I feel like I have been in Morocco for far longer than a week. Each day gets better, but slower. Maybe because I haven't been getting any sleep. Roughly 3 hours a night. I am the queen of sleeping, since when do I have insomnia? Anyways, we left Rabat and headed to Azrou, making an afternoon stop in the beautiful city of Meknes, where we saw some Spanish ruins, the mosque, and the Old City market. We had goat tajines for lunch in this little cafe on our way to an overlook of the Middle Atlas Mountains. It was breathtaking and I took a million pictures trying to capture how deep and wide and spectacular the view was but was unsuccessful. Upon reaching Azrou, a very small, very charming city in the mountains, we walked around and met Latvi at the school to get briefed and assigned to our host families! I am in love with, but allergic to Azrou. I haven't stopped sneezing and sniffing. I only stayed with my host family three nights, but they were so overly generous, welcoming and hospitable I feel like I have known them for years! Abbas, my host father, is the sports coach at the local college. He and Zhara have 3 kids, two at university and Souhail, an 11 year old. Abbas speaks some English which is helpful but also embarrasses me for needing him to communicate when they are all fluent in two, almost three languages. Zhara is an incredible cook. The first night, she brought out a full spread of breads, jam, yogurt, fruit, cakes and cookies. I assumed it was dinner so I ate my fill. Soon afterwards was another table full of chicken, vegetables, fruit, soup, and always, more bread. Every single meal is the same production- I keep telling her it is too much but she just shakes her head and motions "more"? No isn't an option. Souhail, the youngest, was shy at first, but so smart and well behaved. We went walking before dinner- he gets so giggly at the way everyone stares at us. I loved having lunch with Zhara. Abbas is so funny and friendly but when he is home he leads all conversations. When I ask Zhara about ingredients or how she cooked the meal, he answers. During lunches, we don't speak much but she comes out of her shell so much more. Everything about her radiates motherness. She is petite and plump with short gray hair and laugh lines and smile wrinkles. She pats me on the back a lot and it is the nicest. I loved Mama Zhara, even if she is responsible for my gaining 20 lbs in 4 days. Working in the school was equally wonderful. We laid down bricks and concrete to make a courtyard in front of the school and did some much needed gardening. It looks good. Like really good. Some of the children helped which was awesome- they were genuinely helpful and so eager to do anything we asked. The last day we did a recycling art project and finished early. We went hiking with Khalid, another host dad and a mountain guide. We literally hiked from Azrou, up a mountain, and back down. It took 8 hours. We fed monkeys, took in unbelievable views, cooked over a fire and sweat buckets. It was the best, most exhausting day ever- I am tired and sore but hopeful this will allow me a full nights sleep! Khalid calls me "California" and is the best guide in all of Morocco. He wants us to come back for a 2 week trek! I hope to someday, inch Allah (God willing- they say this whenever referring to something/anything ever in the future, pretty inspiring). I came home for a final dinner with my hosts, we had a fun evening looking at family photos. Tomorrow we leave for Fez. More projects and another host family- I don't know how either will compare to the work we did and the people we met here but so far Morocco has not ceased to amaze me. I don't think I'll be disappointed. 

Rabat

In our living room at home, we have a coffee table that is worn out- the paint is chipping, the wood is faded. But it is supposed to look that way and looks beautiful because of it. That is what Rabat reminds me of. In the medina, many of the walls are cracked, streaked with dirt, bright colored paint chipping away. But it makes the narrow, twisting alleys beautiful. And the doors- why do we not have doors like this in the US? Here, the doors add all the character to the medina walls. They come in all different shapes, shades, materials, and styles. I could make an entire photo album of just doors. And like the maze of the medina, the doors seem to open only to a little foyer or staircase and then upon entry, you realize how big the building is inside- with more hallways, more turns, more rooms. Mazes within mazes. Our hotel, for instance, has a tiny wooden door on the wall of a narrow alley. The door leads to an entry way that suddenly opens to an enormous open air court yard with two stories of surrounding rooms. There is a pool on the roof! I don't understand it. This was ignorant on my part, but I had no idea how developed and modernized Morocco was, particularly the capitol city. There is construction everywhere.  There are many things I love about this place, and I was only here for four days. First, the ocean. Our hotel in the medina was a short distance from the ocean. I love how pedestrian friendly it is, and I ran to the beach each morning. It is a big public area and I would sit out on the rocks of the jetty or only the small cliffs and people watch. I saw a lot of men. There are so many more men out and about than women, and most women were in the company of men. That doesn’t even compare to the amount of men working- only 25% of women are employed in North Africa, compared to 50% in other developing countries, including those in Sub-Saharan Africa. This has caused me to think about an observation I made in Sierra Leone. How much of my life is determined by circumstance?  What, where, and who you’re born into makes up so much of who you become. If I had been born in Morocco, would I have (or even want) a future outside of motherhood, marriage, and subservience to men? Would I be Muslim? Would I be part of the 54% who are illiterate in this country? Would I be anything like the Christian-raised, college educated American I am today?  The person I thought I spent my whole life supposedly choosing to be? I honestly do not know, and that scares me. I do think I would be better looking had I been born here. This sounds weird, but Moroccan women are as beautiful as their country, especially the elderly women. Granted, I love old people but I think the old women here look extra dignified and wise. I also think I would be more alert. How could you not be in a city like this? I feel like I am constantly using all five of my senses at once. Especially in the market. Seeing all the deep colors, patterns, architecture, shadows, and lights, smelling the mixtures of spices and cooking food, hearing the calls from street vendors and other people in Arabic and French, touching the hanging fabric and jewelry, shoving and being shoved through mobs of people, and tasting mysterious street food I can’t understand the names of. (I tried cow brains and liver. Never again. The roasted corn and fresh OJ is amazing, though.)  While there have been a few uncomfortable exchanges with men, everyone here has been nothing but welcoming. From the extreme-hospitality of our hosts to our first night out to dinner when the band pulled me up to dance with them, spinning me around and around while they clapped really fast, to clubbing with the students who befriended us at EGE- Moroccans are friendly, fun people. I’ve learned a lot from our lectures and panel discussions with Moroccan students at EGE. I’ve been fascinated by Moroccan history, informed on current political events, and horrified, yet empowered, by women’s conditions and movements. Overall, I am infatuated with this place. Sad to go, but excited to meet my host family and start working on the schools in Azrou tomorrow. 

Anna- Every baby I see, I look close to check if it is Salma. I see you everywhere here. :)

Around the World in 30 Days

So strange to think that the last time I wrote, I was getting way too sappy for the internet about leaving my Punta Cana. While I miss it (so much) everyday, I feel very lucky- my month back has consisted of enjoying my job at HCW, lots of Spanish, beach and lake visits, concerts, a trip to see my incredible sister in Memphis, and time with family and friends. I am happy, but so ready for my next trip. This one is a month of traveling from Morocco, to Turkey, (lil pit stop in Qatar), to Sri Lanka- staying with village families and doing service projects along the way. Three continents in four weeks! Since it will be so much so fast, I need to be as open as possible. These are three very unique places, each with something special to offer- but I want to keep the mindset that “the only real nation is humanity” (shout out to my idol Paul Farmer). I want to see the similarities between the three countries- the commonalities between cultures and people rather than being shocked by the differences and only noticing what sets us apart. This amazing opportunity was made possible by research grants and various donors (including my great parents). I am so thankful for their generosity and my professor and TA- I only met them once and they were willing to post all the materials and readings I needed for the pre-departure research class while I was in the Dominican. Since I was gone, I have never met any of the students in my group. They have had a semester worth of class together- meeting four times a week to learn about each country, taking introductory Arabic and Sinhala, becoming best pals. I skyped into the final meeting from Bek’s classroom and my presence was explained with “Here on screen is Kathy Berlin, she was living in the Dominican Republic and is now teaching in Memphis. Say Hi.” Thank you for that introduction, Dr. Siegle. I love the man, but I’ve given up telling my professor my name isn’t Kathy... I've signed literally every email with Kathryn- maybe I should have written it in Caps. I’m shy and a little nervous about being the new girl but also eager to make friends and explain that I wasn’t just randomly living in the DR and don’t actually teach in Memphis- my name is Kathryn and I go to Tech. Basically, we will be helping to install an irrigation system in Morocco, attending lectures in Turkey, and hosting a Shramadana in Sri Lanka, where we will renovate village schools. My personal research will take place in Trincomalee, Sri Lanka, a village that was devastated by both the tsunami and civil war. I will be working with Sarvodaya, an NGO that has a center for ex-militant youth. I’m comparing the demobilization and reintegration of child soldiers after the civil wars in Sri Lanka and Sierra Leone. The war in Sri Lanka ended three years ago but since it is such a sensitive subject, I will only be allowed to speak to staff members. It is hard to wrap my head around- writing this research paper has resulted in a lot of tears and anger and questions and I am sure I will have a much harder time with it when I see the children I have been reading so much about. But I can’t wait to meet them, to learn from them. After choosing to wear the same five outfits for 3 months in the Dominican, I’ve learned I am a really light packer. As long as I have clean underwear, a toothbrush, and my passport, I’m good to go. I have one backpack and half of it is filled with books for the plane rides. Leaving in a few hours. I'm real excited. Peace be the journey!