And Now It's 2012

2011 ended on a high note. Cooperative Adwal, my counterpart, received word that they had been selected as one of 367 applicants from 70 countries to attend the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe next July. They are very excited and are now waiting to see if they will receive a financial assistance grant.

For anyone traveling to the Santa Fe area July 13-15, the International Folk Art Market will be a great opportunity to buy quality crafts directly from the international artisans who made them. Other cooperatives making jewelry and daggers were also selected from Morocco.

The same week, I received word that a grant I had applied for to purchase a new loom for Adwal’s weavers had been funded. It was approved primarily because the loom will be used to train apprentices every year to help sustain the traditional weaving and design skills which have been passed down through generations of Berber weavers.

And more good news—a woman from a TV cooking show in the UK is coming to look at Doug’s co-op for a possible show on couscous making. If they decide to film here, the segment will be shown to a wide audience.

I spent Christmas in the US with family and had a wonderful time enjoying the comfort, cleanliness and conveniences of my former life. My reintroduction to Moroccan life began at the Casablanca airport where the bathroom had no paper products and only one working faucet. In the chaotic taxi lot in Fes, one of our fellow passengers had several bags of wool to add to the already loaded trunk. The solution of course was to leave the trunk open but secure it with a bungi cord conveniently carried for just such a purpose.

On the taxi ride from Fes back to REK, I marveled at the spectacular green of the countryside brought on by the winter rains. New crops were popping up and a few wild flowers were blooming. Baby animals ran about in the fields. Along the road the now familiar sights appeared—herds of sheep grazing in the barrow pit, families sitting on their bags waiting for transport, men riding donkeys, boys riding bicycle, wild dogs waiting for scraps in their usual place atop the hill. The taxi driver was engaged with the other passengers in the loud, animated style of conversation that I used to think was arguing. When the magnificent snow-topped Mount Buiblane appeared, I knew I was close to my Moroccan home.