Midnight Bus to Marrakesh

If any Peace Corps staff read this they will know that I violated the rule against traveling after dark. But honestly, if you have to commit 12 hours to a souk bus ride, wouldn’t you rather give up the night?—when there is at least a tiny chance of sleeping through part of it? The rule is for safety purposes, and young women or women traveling alone should definitely obey it, but my Moroccan traveling companion and I are both “mature” women who are relatively safe from harassment when traveling together. Since we were hauling several bags of carpets to Marche Maroc craft fair, it only made sense to take the only bus going all the way from REK to Marrakesh.

The bus ride itself was bearable except for the constant coughing and sneezing from the person behind me without any attempt to cover nose or mouth. I rode most of the way with my face buried in my coat. The nearly unbearable part was the four hours spent in a cold bus station, which, like bus stations the world over, was populated with the homeless and mentally ill. At 4 am we were treated to a song and dance routine from a man who appeared to be unnaturally animated. Later, when my traveling companion went to pray, I was approached twice by toothless men whom I couldn’t understand. A third stopped and spat at my feet. When he reached out as if to grab my arm, I jumped up and yelled “go away from me!”. Three young men kindly grabbed him and steered him away. In only 10 minutes alone, I became a firm believer in the no–travel-after-dark rule. Never again.

In Marrakesh, it was colder than I had hoped, but after the first day, the sun came out and warmed our bones. The craft tents were set up in what at first seemed an ideal location next to the main square where all the snake charmers and other tourist entertainers congregate. Plus, it was the weekend of the Marrakesh Marathon which brought an international crowd.

Although well located, the park (dubbed “pee park” by a PCV) was ringed by horse drawn carriages which cut the tents off from view of the tourists passing in the street beyond and created unpleasant odors. Even though we didn’t get the hoped-for tourist crowds, there was a steady stream of locals who did buy things. My counterpart made travel expenses plus some so it was not a bust. We are all awaiting final sales figures to compare to previous markets.

Since Morocco is discontinuing Peace Corps Small Business Development after our group leaves this fall, it’s not clear whether the artisans will continue these fairs without us. We will have at least two more this year and thankfully they are much closer to home.

The Food Network Comes to Town

In my considerable daydreaming, I never imagined that an English television network would come to our little town. But they did. Jenny Morris , the “Giggling Gourmet” celebrity chef from South Africa is starring in several segments on Moroccan food for the Food Network EMEA (Europe, Middle East and Africa). One of the segments is on the making and cooking of couscous, a staple Moroccan food. Thanks to our connection with Gail of Fes Food, Cooperative Eljawda , a couscous and bread cooperative in Ribat El Kheir, was chosen for the filming. I think I was more excited than the women, possibly because they have never seen the show and don’t realize how widely distributed it is.

First, the co-op women were filmed making couscous from scratch—rolling, rubbing, and sieving, through three different sized baskets to produce progressively smaller uniform grains. This is an arduous process that is rarely done today outside of rural North Africa. Most couscous is now made by machine. Since it takes days to dry, the following cooking segment was filmed with couscous already dried.

Jenny then set up on the ridge trail overlooking the valley to do her cooking segment where she made a sweet couscous dish (using my cloves!). We were extremely lucky to have a bright sunny day for the filming, and the snowcapped mountains made a dramatic backdrop. The co-op women were then brought in to taste the finished product. I missed this part since it had already gone dark and the final filming was done inside a house, so I will have to wait to see their reaction on (someone’s) TV.

A week later the film crew was back to do a segment on traditional olive oil pressing with the large stone horse-driven grinder. Jenny then made a salad with the olive oil in a dressing which Habib, the mill owner, and Doug were filmed tasting. I had to be away at a craft fair so I also missed this segment and will have to wait to see it. Who knows what will make it through the editing process and actually appear on the Food Network, but the film crew has promised us a DVD of the show.

The actual filming was a rather tedious process with many stops and starts and redos. Mostly we had to sit and wait and watch since our work of dealing with the logistics and with the local bureaucracy had already been done.

Snow!

When you think about Morocco do you imagine sand dunes? Well it’s not like that here. The Sahara is many miles south, and we are in the Atlas Mountains where it just snowed. We have been lucky for the past two weeks with sunny days, although the nights and inside the house are really cold. I’ll admit I’ve taken to wearing the same clothes around the clock for days on end. Who can bear to bare when you can see your breath? Practicality has trumped aesthetics as we stuff the cracks and drafty leaks with plastic bags.

We had to go to Fes to conduct some business, so we took the opportunity to go to a warmer place and stay the night in a heated hotel. It was total luxury—a hands-free shower, TV with English movies, washing hands in hot water, and sleeping without hats, turtlenecks and wool socks.

For lunch in Fes, we ate at a local favorite “Chicken Mac” where I had a large plate of rotisserie chicken, rice, fries, beans, olives and bread for about $3. It was warm enough with a coat on to eat outside, thus avoiding most of the cigarette smoke, but it did require putting up with a bevy of begging cats and rejecting offers of belts, quartz clocks, and a shoeshine. Some peddlers scored, however, as I saw a table of men buying underwear.

I have received more great news concerning Cooperative Adwal—they were awarded a financial assistance grant for both the President and her sister as an interpreter to travel to the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market. This made it financially possible for them to go, and we are all so excited.

Next week I’ll be heading to Marrakesh for another Marche Maroc. It should be a lot warmer there so I’m eager for the break. Doug will be tied up with TV filming of the olive oil press so I’ll be riding the souk bus with one of co-op women. I have learned my lesson on bus riding--I will bring my iPod and not drink water.

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.

Giving Thanks

November 24 and 25 had much significance this year—Thanksgiving, Moroccan national elections, and the day that marks one year left in our Peace Corps service.

Thanksgiving day dawned sunny and crisp with fresh snow on the mountains promising a festive feeling. Things kind of went downhill from there. We had invited three other volunteers for dinner which I was going to cook. Cooking here is time consuming since everything has to be made from scratch. First, the bird has to be killed, gutted, and defeathered. Pumpkin pie starts with cooking and pureeing the pumpkin.

It was a two day process. Five minutes after the pie went into the new electric oven, the electricity went off. An hour later, the water shut off. Fortunately these both came back on again and then the buta gas tank ran out. Normally, we could run down and get a new one, but the truck hadn’t come in yet so we had to wait until two in the afternoon to replace the buta. It all had me wondering if the powers that be were intentionally sabotaging my effort, but eventually it all came together, and even with a meskina burned pie, the dinner turned out to be a success.

The next day we took a walk along the ridge trail in the bright sunshine. We saw some cute baby goats frolicking near the fence of the old military school compound. Of course we took out the camera and snapped a few photos of their antics before we looked up and saw five guards running toward us. They were pleasant but firm. You do not take photos of government property. I’d post a picture of the cute baby goats, but they were hastily deleted while the guards looked on.

Today the results of the first national election under the new constitution in Morocco were posted, and a celebration began. REK now has a representative in Parliament, one of three in the region! Each candidate has a symbol to represent them for voters who can’t read. (Wouldn’t this be fun for US candidates?) The winner for REK was the tractor.

Both of our co-op presidents worked hard for the tractor candidate. Latifa even campaigned for him on Facebook, and Fatima was the only woman on the victory truck. Time will tell if the election results satisfy the protesters.

Goodbyes and Hellos

The times, they are a-changing. We recently said goodbye to Pete, our Peace Corps site mate, as he finished his service. He was a big help and good friend to us and we will miss him. The community had a going away party for him at the town hall with traditional horn blowing, drumming, and dancing.

He's a youth development volunteer so all the high school kids came as well and put on an amazing show of skits, rap music and American music. I was impressed with the way they got up in front of an audience and performed so confidently. I fear for their futures though as there isn't much for them to do after high school--especially the girls.

On his last taxi ride out of REK, the taxi wouldn’t start and had to be pushed down the street until the driver popped the clutch and got it going.

If seemed like a fitting way to leave. Then we said hello to our new site mates, Gary and Kathy, who will replace Pete. They are retirees from Colorado so we have a lot in common.

Summer/fall is gone—almost overnight. It rained for about a week which brought a blanket of snow to the mountains and then it was winter/spring. Winter is a bit confusing here because it is cold, there is snow, it rains, but then there are sunny warm days, everything turns green, and little yellow wildflowers pop out.

Then it returns to cold and rainy. I’m reminded of spring in Montana. We have put away the sandals and dug the winter layers out of the box.

Another L3id l-kbir, the sheep sacrificing holiday, has come and gone. Since our balcony and kitchen window overlook several rooftops where the slaughters often take place, we decided to get out of town for a few days. When we returned, the only evidence was a sheep skin hanging on the roof. I didn’t see a single charred sheep head, bloody street, or have to eat any intestines or barbequed liver wrapped in stomach lining.

Apparently, the Moroccan Ministry of Education, along with USAID, has recently begun a new push to teach adult women to read and write. Illiteracy among adult women here is estimated at 65% and is higher than that in the rural areas--a reflection on one of the major gender differences. I was surprised to learn that, although most are literate, none of the women in Cooperative Adwal had finished high school. It’s surprising because there are several very bright and savvy women there.

One day, books and slates appeared at both of our co-ops along with a manual and a salary for a teacher to lead literacy classes. Co-op Adwal is having sessions every afternoon, and I am taking advantage by sitting in to learn Arabic script. I have mastered three letters so far and at this pace, may learn the whole alphabet by the time we leave.

Halfway There

Today marks the day when we are halfway through our Peace Corps service. We plan to have a mini celebration which is the only kind available, but have saved some taco shells brought back from Amsterdam for just such an occasion. Congratulations to all of us who have made it this far!


(young woman modeling traditional Berber wedding robe)

Yesterday we went to Fes with Doug’s co-op president, a Moroccan friend, and a driver to purchase some equipment for the co-op. It was fun to ride in a big truck in fake fur covered, dangling bead splendor instead of being squashed in a taxi. On the way, we were motioned over at a gendarme checkpoint where our driver was fined for not wearing a seat belt. Really? I have yet to see anyone in Morocco wearing a seat belt, but it is the law. I tried to fasten mine, but there was nothing to hook it into so I draped the strap over my shoulder and held it in place for the next two checkpoints. Again we were motioned over where they opened the back doors of the truck only to find an American sitting on the wooden bench. The third time, we were waved on through.

In Fes, we went to a western style store with fixed prices, then to some Fes hanuts where Doug and I disappeared down the street so the Moroccans could negotiate a local price. On our way back, the three Moroccans kept up a continual conversation in the style of the country—everyone talking at once in escalating volume. This may be why their conversations are peppered with “Did you understand?” which might really mean “Did you hear me while you were talking over me?”

A lot has happened in the last month. I helped Cooperative Adwal put together photos of their products and prepare an application to take part in the 2012 International Folk Art Festival in Santa Fe. If they are selected (we’ll hear in December) it will be a huge honor, but also the bar will be set high for the quality of products they bring.

We took a much needed vacation to go to Oktoberfest in Munich and to spend a few days in Amsterdam, with stops in Brussels and Paris on the way back. It was a wonderfully relaxing time where we enjoyed the overwhelming selection of food and drink, schweinbraten, the Bavarian Alps,

sidewalk cafes populated with women and children, high speed trains with wifi, hot showers, clean streets and landscapes, European art and architecture, canals and windmills.

Back in Morocco, we were visited by our friends, Jill and Ian, from England. Six years ago our paths crossed in a library in St Chinian, France, and we have kept in touch ever since. We delighted in introducing them to the Morocco that most visitors never see and experiencing the daily life and living conditions of most of the people, including a white knuckle ride in a taxi to Fes with Jill sitting in the inside back seat with a close-up view of the mere inches between us and oncoming vehicles. In the evenings, they entertained us with stories of their extensive travels and shared their Bordeaux wine and goodies brought from Europe. Their account of their visit to our town can be read at Maxted Travels http://modestine2011.blogspot.com/2011/10/ribat-el-kheir.html Their many pictures, keen observations, and British wit make for good reading.