Week 1

I made it no further than two blocks from the house when another wave of rain broke loose from the grey sky.  I paused to determine my options, but in that time I could already feel damp pants clinging to my leg.  I needed to get inside.  Through the windows of a cafe, I watched the storm make a river out of the street.  People scattered to find shelter, unless they were unfortunate enough to own an umbrella, in which case they were too proud to admit that their preparedness was no match against the violent weather.  One boy played in the water with a thick smile plastered on his face.

Winter was putting on its final performance.  Earlier in the week, the sun demonstrated it's power and provided a taste of what summer might be like, but it couldn't sustain itself this early in the spring.  It was back to the weather I had experienced throughout my training: wet and windy.  Winter is stupid if there is no snow.

I felt useless.  My only goal for the day was to make a photocopy of my passport.  It took so much effort to crawl out of bed in the morning and greet my family.  I almost went back to sleep after breakfast, but instead I summoned all my energy and stepped out into Morocco.  But now that I was about to do something productive with my morning, I was suddenly stranded, incapable of doing anything just because water was falling from the sky.  Part of me was stoked since I am a big fan of doing nothing, and there is no better way of doing nothing than listening to rain patter.  Part of me was frustrated though, because I had been doing nothing all week, my first week at my final Peace Corps site.

After two months of intensive training, it was awkward to have nothing to do.  The Youth Center in the town is closed for renovations, so I have no official classroom.  Yesterday I was about to give an English class at the women's center, but someone had forgot to leave the key for me, so I failed before I even started.  I had made some friends at the basketball courts earlier in the week, but that too had been cut off because of the freaking rain.

Two men chatted near me in the cafe.  I should approach them, I thought.  Since I was stuck inside anyway I might as well try to meet some of my neighbors.  My job description at this point in my service is simply to make friends.  However, their tone and expressions seemed serious and I felt intimidated.  As I tried to think of how to introduce myself, the waiter walked up to me and asked me what I would like.  I wanted to say that I was just waiting for the storm to pass, but I got scared that it might be rude, so I asked for a coffee even though I had just had some at my house.  The interaction with the waiter  messed up my thought patterns, and I decided that I wouldn't talk to the strangers after all. 

I just sat.  And drank my coffee and admired the storm. 

I paid for my coffee when the rain stopped.  Then I walked to the paper store to photocopy my passport.  I chatted with the store owner and made him smile.  Then I dropped some papers off at the police station.  I chatted with the police officers and made them laugh.  One of them even gave a me a sort of high five.  Instead of going back to my house afterwards, I went to the local boarding house for out of town students.  I wanted to talk to the director about maybe scheduling some English classes in one of his spare rooms.  He wasn't around, though. 

This sudden burst of productivity lasted thirty minutes.  It wasn't much, but it tired me out enough to want to go back home and spend a few hours doing nothing.

Pets

Humans live symbiotically with dogs. Essentially, we provide some food and shelter and they provide some love and entertainment. This relationship varies from culture to culture. Economically developed communities have the time to develop a loving relationship with their pets, and care deeply about the well being of their animals, while communities struggling to make ends meet may view their pets as curious distractions.

Humans have to provide food for their pets. In America, we buy dog food. It is not cool in America to feed dogs human food. IT'S NOT GOOD FOR THEM! To the rest of the world, this sounds crazy, because dogs love human food, and what is the point of throwing away food if it can feed a family pet. The family I live with now in Morocco dedicates time to dividing up leftovers for their three dogs and ensuring that they eat enough. In Mali it was a little different. There, the men would eat, and then the children, and whatever the children didn't eat might go to the dogs. And if the dogs didn't finish the leftovers the women could eat (not true; just a joke; sorry).

Humans have to provide shelter for their pets. Usually this means the dogs and cats make the best of whatever buildings are around. If they have their space, and it overlaps with your space, then its officially your pet. In America we provide doghouses, or install doggy doors, because we are that obsessed with our animals.

For most the world, pet care ends there. Feed them and give them some of your territory. And I guess clean their poop, but we don't need to talk about that. Americans do other things for their cats and dogs.

Unless their fixed, girl cats and girl dogs are always pregnant. Most of the world does not bother to fix their pets. What a strange way to spend money that would be. This means that there are a lot of cute kittens and puppies all over poor communities! Unfortunately, this means that their a lot of dead kittens and dead puppies everywhere too. A cat at my host families house recently had kittens, and the event was mildly interesting to the members of my family. When a couple of them died off, it was also only mildly interesting. In America we are secretive about the reproduction of our pets, and I actually have no idea where kittens and puppies come from.

The economy behind American pet care is larger than the economy of Swaziland (not a fact, just another bad joke). We take pets to the doctor. We buy them beds. We buy them food. Treats. Frisbees. Toys. Scratching posts. We take them to the groomer. Get them fancy leashes. Pay for their training. Pay for pet sitters. We love our cats and dogs. I mean, we literally love them. Like, we cry when they die.

In Morocco, dogs aren't loved, but sometimes they are liked. They are taken care of, and played with a little. I've even seen some taken out on walks. I've also seen many pathetic looking street dogs. And for every Moroccan that says they like dogs, there are three others that say that they are afraid of dogs. They do have it better than Malian dogs, though. In Mali, puppies were toys, and dogs were worthless toys. They would be abused the same way a child abuses his toys and his worthless toys.

So that's what I got on humans and pets. Or humans and dogs. I think this was suppose to be a blog post about pets but I just talked about dogs. Oh well. The lesson: dogs live with humans.

End of Training

Are they really crying? The last two months have been a struggle, and my departure should be a relief. I interrupted their routine. I claimed their living room as my space. They fed me. They washed my clothes. They cleaned up after me. All I was able to give back was a smile. Are they crying because they will miss my smile?

During training I've noticed that Moroccans do not hide their emotions. Conversations in my household would generally consist of both yelling and laughter. My host mom would make it clear if she was upset at me or happy for me. I've seen Moroccans embrace confrontation, and I've seen many disputes on the verge of getting physical. At parties, Moroccans can dance without the encouragement of alcohol. And now that it is time for goodbyes, my family is not ashamed to let the tears flow. They are passionate people.

I hug and kiss my sobbing brother and mother. I was a burden on them of course, but I was also a reward. They deserve as much credit as anyone for my new ability to navigate Moroccan culture. They watched me grow up in two short months. The journey filled them with pride, as they made it possible for America and Morocco to connect intimately. It was an intense experience for all of us, and the challenges it presented has forged a bond between us. This is a form of love.