Friendship

After dealing with a final costumer, we are ready to go to the cafe. I help Adil close up his shop. I bring the mannequins inside and arrange the shoes on the wall so that there is room to close the shop's doors. Adil claims that owning a clothing store requires a seven day workweek since you never know when a big spender will show up, but besides that, it seems like a pretty nice gig. He mostly hangs out, listening to music or surfing the internet, taking an occasional hit from his pipe. More importantly he has the freedom to take short vacations, or afternoon coffee breaks with the local American.

Once all items have been crammed into the small shop, contained by locked metal doors, we set off for a taxi. It'll be my first time using a taxi in my town. I've used horse carts before, when the sun is too hot, or when there are groceries to carry, but never have I considered using a taxi. Moroccan towns are arranged into a clutter where everything anyone could need is no more than a few blocks away. The cafe we are going to though, is in the country side, a two dollar cab ride away. Adil says that its nice to enjoy a coffee outside of town, where the atmosphere is relaxing.

Late summer leaves the countryside brown and dead. Some fields have been plowed and seeded, in hopes that the first sprinkles of Autumn are on the way. One field acts as the local dump, ruining my attempts to consider the landscape beautiful. What is a coffee shop doing out here?

From the outside there seems to be nothing unique about it. It seems like a final rest stop for travelers heading into Casablanca. Upon entering, I am stunned by the waitresses. They look sexy, and that is not a typical look for girls in rural Morocco. I wonder if the cafe functions as a brothel during the evening hours. In town, there are a few cafes with women servers, most of whom also work as prostitutes. After greeting a couple familiar faces, Adil leads me into the courtyard. I am impressed by a green lawn and a flowing fountain. How fancy! I bend down to feel the fresh grass, a feature I miss from the American landscape. We claim the table nearest the fountain, to be tickled by its soft murmur. The only other costumers sit at the corner of the courtyard, puffing on their hash pipe.

Adil orders an 'especial,' which I believe to be a kind of beer. For some reason I have it in my head that the waitresses are prostitutes, and the clients smoke hash, and so there must also be alcohol. I start to change my order because it has been too long since I last had a beer, but Adil laughs and tells me that this is not a bar and that he ordered a shot of espresso. I settle for my coffee and milk.

And so I find myself in a familiar situation, chatting with a Moroccan at a cafe. For males in Morocco, the coffee shop serves an important social function. They watch sports on TV, or chat and catch up with friends. Business is often conducted within the safety of a cafe. Ideas are shared. Of course, it is a male only environment, and unless you are in a major urban center, it is rare to see any women at the cafes. Women go about their social lives within the home. Despite a western attitude taking hold in the cities and amongst the country's youth, most Moroccans continue to adhere to traditional gender roles. Fortunately I am a male (seriously, a male volunteer puts up with a lot less crap the a female volunteer), and I can enjoy my freedoms without being judged.

I enjoy my conversation with Adil. He understands my Arabic, and he forms his sentences cleanly, so that I can understand his. We use French and English to help clear any confusion. He is open minded and I find that I can be truthful about my opinions. Too often, I am ultra conscious of being in a foreign culture and sensor myself in order to be polite. With Adil, however, I can act entirely myself. I have no fear of him judging me, and our relationship is very similar to the ones I have with close American friends.

He is able to relate to me. This is partly because he is my age, single, intelligent, and able to keep up with the western zeitgeist through the internet. Mostly though, we relate because he has experienced life in a foreign culture. Ten years ago he flew to Brazil, where a visa is not required for a Moroccan entry. The idea was to start in Brazil, and figure out a way to sneak into America or Canada. Instead, he spent a month in Sao Paulo, indulging himself off the festive atmosphere. He made friends, and got to know the city and culture, and realized that the range of human lifestyles goes far beyond what is offered in Morocco. He ran out of money, and his friend got homesick, and he was forced to return to Morocco with just a taste of what the world had to offer.

That little taste he has of Brazil is the connection we have. He appreciates my commitment to live in Morocco. He appreciates the time I have spent to get to know the language and connect with Moroccans. “Do you like Morocco?” he asks me.

I say that I find Moroccans to be welcoming and hospitable, and comment on the diverse geography and beautiful cities that the country offers tourists. Since I want to be completely honest with my friend, I also explain some of my frustrations. It isn't easy to make genuine connections with people whose culture uses a different format for forming relationships. There is a constant tingle of isolation. Most Moroccans are vaguely aware of this and adjust their communication to be inclusive of my perspective. Unfortunately, there are those that are uninterested in making room for what is foreign. In Morocco, Peace Corps volunteers encounter religious harassment, female volunteers deal with sexual harassment, and Asian-American volunteers experience racial harassment.

He defends Morocco, claiming that the country is used to people of different backgrounds. Straddling Africa and Europe, Morocco has always been influenced by non-Arab populations, and Moroccans have learned to treat them with respect. He also points out that sexism and racism must also exist in America. As far as the harassment is concerned, he admits that small towns in Morocco have little exposure to other cultures and its populations can be rather close minded.

Adil and I have hit upon an interesting topic. Examining Morocco's cultural diversity is not an everyday conversation. I have a lot to say on the subject, but the language barrier becomes more and more of a burden and so we move onto lighter subjects. He tells me stories about Brazil and I share a few of my travels. He recommends that next time we will visit the cafe at night because it is a different atmosphere. I expect him to mention something about prostitution, but he just says that the courtyard will be colorfully lit. Eventually, my Arabic tires and I exhaust my vocabulary. My sentences become less and less coherent. So, we tune our ears to the fountain, Adil lights a cigarette, and I finish my coffee. Adil pays the bill and we hitchhike back into town.

Too often, I crave American company in order to remind myself of who I am. My outing with Adil is a refreshing reminder that I can be myself without my culture around to back me up. Interactions with Moroccans are not superficial as long as I feel comfortable about representing myself honestly. Cultural barriers are very real and establishing true emotional connections with non-westerners is challenging for me. As a Peace Corps volunteer though, making these connections is an important goal of mine, because when it does happen, humanity seems to burst with optimism.   

Middle Class

I've had the unique experience to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer in two countries of different economic structure. Mali and Morocco may both be considered 3^rd world or developing countries, but the truth is that the two countries are on very different standards of living. While serving in Mali I would refer to the Moroccan version of the program as Posh Corps, in an effort to feel better about the struggles of living in Mali. Now, living in Morocco, I wonder how I ever survived Mali without an outlet to plug a fan into. However, the differences between working in a place like Mali and a place like Morocco go far beyond lack of creature comforts. A healthy middle class exists in Morocco, influencing the way Peace Corps volunteers function.

With practically any indicator, Morocco is far ahead of Mali in standards of living. Life expectancy in Morocco is 72 years and in Mali it is 55 years. Literacy rate in Morocco is 56% and in Mali it is 33%. Most interesting, the Per Capita GDP in Morocco is 5,400$ while in Mali it is 1,100$ (CIA World Factbook). In fact, many Malians hardly used currency, harvesting their crops and praying that it will last them until the next rainy season. Moroccans, on the other hand, can afford meat with most meals, can afford multiple sets of clothing, and almost always live with electricity and running water. A host family I lived with had satellite TV, internet, a washing machine, and a vehicle, and I wouldn't consider the family wealthy. A strong middle-class is present in Morocco.

A recent visit to the Ouzoud Waterfalls in central Morocco illustrated this fact. At mid-summer, the falls were swarmed with tourists. Many came from Europe or America, but it felt like maybe 75% were Moroccans.  The image above shows my friend Vince jumping into a swimming hole with Moroccan and European tourists walking along the canyons main path.  With temperatures soaring and no school in session, the falls make for an attractive destination. I saw Moroccan families picnicking in the shade or ordering a meal at one of the waterfront restaurants. Kids splashed in the shallows while teenagers encouraged each other to dive in from the steep edges of the river. Many groups were composed of young Moroccan males looking for a hike, a swim, and a relaxing place to smoke their hash. Ouzoud is quite the playground with swimming, cliff jumping, hiking, and spectacular views The fact that so many Moroccans can afford to visit indicates that this is a population with a bit of economic flexibility.

Economic stability fuels business in Morocco's urban areas. Not too long ago, most Moroccans farmed, but today, the country is 57% urban (Mali is 35%). Towns are crammed with shops and the economy is much more diversified than basic agriculture. Though unemployment concerns Morocco, there is enough freedom to fit into an agreeable occupation. My neighbor interested in languages teaches English at the High School and owns a book store. Moustafa is passionate about travel, and works as a taxi driver, giving him the chance to explore the sites of his country. Yunes is a barber, and I guess maybe he's into fashion or something. Though, these people often complain to me about poverty in Morocco and lack of employment opportunities, they are not stuck in agriculture. They can pursue their interests and can afford to go to the beach a few times per summer.

As a volunteer, my role feels much different in Morocco than it did in Mali. Receiving the same pay as I am in Morocco, I was by far the wealthiest person in my village in Mali. I ate the same food, fetched the same water, and lived in the same style mud hut as people in my village, but I was still relatively rich, and afforded trips to splurge in the cities. This created certain challenges. There was an overwhelming expectation for me to rescue the village by funding a large scale project. For many in my village, my purpose was little more than a source of money. I never did get the chance to raise the money that was expected from me, and to this day I have weird feelings about it. There was also the guilt of spending money on traveling and visiting American friends. Every beer I drank could have been money spent on fruits and vegetables for my neighbors. Observing the raw beautiful life of rural Mali touched me deeply, but I struggled to function and blend into the structure of the village's economy.

In Morocco, these stresses have been washed away. I am a piece of my town's economy now and my function makes sense. In Mali, I mostly observed. In Morocco, I have a chance to participate. Economically, I fit right in, affording a lifestyle similar to most Moroccans. Also, Through the inevitable cultural globalization that accompanies economic development, I am more able to communicate with and relate to Moroccans than I was able to with agrarian Malians. Our interests and hobbies overlap. I'm just a regular teacher, and integration comes natural. My language skills and understanding of Islam are much better than they were in Mali. I am able to share values and attitudes with those around me. Even though Morocco doesn't provide the opportunity for the mud hut organic lifestyle, its advantages still produce a powerful experience, where I am doing much more than just observing the activity around me.

I am very fortunate to have experienced a Peace Corps life in two countries. The differences between the two experiences allow me to realize the wide range of human lifestyles. In Mali I was rich and lived poor, struggling with the cruelties of rural Sahel and feeling guilty any time I used money to escape from it. In America I was poor but lived rich, abusing my creature comforts and feeling too much pressure to participate in consumerism that I could not afford. Morocco on the other hand, is a comfortable middle ground where I really can't complain about my financial situation. I do hope I get paid tomorrow though, because right now I am totally broke.

Below is Vince, Matthew, and Rebecca enjoying being middle class at Ouzoud.

Holidays

The holidays in Morocco are a little different from my usual Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years combination (whoa, do we really have 4 holidays in a two month span?). While I usually use such celebrations as an opportunity to indulge, I find that the Moroccan holiday season celebrates by abstaining from pleasure. Instead of using champagne or turkey to demonstrate an appreciation for life, Moroccans celebrate by burdening themselves with thirst and hunger. In Morocco and in the rest of the Muslim world, The Islamic holy month of Ramadan uses suffering as a way to cherish life.

In a lot of ways, Ramadan follows the same principles as the holidays in America. There is less work, and more time to spend with loved ones. This means lots of traveling and shopping. Sounds just like America. In fact, during a visit to Morocco's fancy mall in Casablanca I could have sworn I was in America. Complete with escalators and Starbucks, the mall overflowed with packs of shoppers. Western consumerism has arrived in Casablanca. Even the name of the mall is given a creative American name: “Morocco Mall.” This leads to confusion as everything else in Morocco is labeled in French or Arabic, and neither Maroc (pronounce it with a French 'r') nor Mghrib (pronounce it with a French 'r' for the gh and a Spanish 'r' for, never mind, you probably don't care and I've probably misspelled is anyway) sound quite like 'Morocco.' The point is, Moroccans enjoy strolling around shopping centers with family during the holidays as much as Americans do. In terms of spending time and money with loved ones, American and Moroccan holiday seasons serve the same function.

At a personal level however, Moroccan holidays provide much more than a reason to travel and relax with family. While the holidays in America hardly relate to God anymore, Ramadan in the Islamic world is entirely associated with an attachment to a higher being. Ramadan is a month dedicated towards bettering oneself as a person and as a Muslim.

The defining characteristic of Ramadan is the fasting. For an entire lunar cycle, Muslims are required to abstain from putting anything into their bodies during the daytime. There is no smoking, drinking, eating, or getting sexy between the first hint of dawn ( 3:30am) and the moment the sun touches the horizon (7:30pm). Certain people demand that fasting expand to no showering, no deodorant, and no teeth brushing as well. But, I mean, c'mon!

I've been doing my best to fast along with the rest of my community (I haven't been perfect, but I've done pretty good). I have voluntarily suffered through thirst and hunger everyday for nearly a month now. By suffering I don't mean that I am starving, I mean that I am putting myself through discomfort. Fasting isn't as hard as it might seem, especially considering that I sleep past noon everyday. Still, Daylight sucks. Few people are out during the day. Those that are out are often cranky from hunger or thirst or a nicotine addiction. I've seen fights break out during the late afternoon hours. It's a celebration!

During sunset, time stands still. Families gather to await the call to prayer signaling the end of the day's fast. Never has a date tasted so good.

What a great image to decorate this post with.  Fasting makes them look beautiful.  Oh yea, the point was that dates are often the first thing a Moroccan will eat to break their fast.

Breaking fast revives my community. After a grumpy day, with little activity, the streets erupt. Until midnight, everyone is out and about. Going out for coffee, or snacks, or shopping (the activity at the Morocco Mall happens at night during Ramadan). Business does better at night than anytime during the day. Kids find a well lit street to play soccer on. The plazas and parks are abuzz with music and conversation. My friend explained to me that everyone is in a good mood because God has locked Satin up for the month of Ramadan, but I think the positive energy has more to do with the communal experience of fasting. At three in the morning Moroccans eat again to prepare there stomachs for another hungry day. The nocturnal lifestyle is where Ramadan gets its charm. The day's suffering makes the night's party that much sweeter. It's a celebration!

Fasting is a personal feat, but it is cool knowing that Muslims around the world are participating with me. Most my friends tell me that the purpose of fasting is to understand what it is like to be hungry and thirsty. I can't think of a better way celebrate life than to learn how to cherish our most basic necessities. It is certainly a more powerful technique than the indulgence I'm used to. Suffering feels good. It brings Muslims closer to God. The combination of intense prayer and fasting, raises the spiritual consciousness of many individuals, empowering individuals to discover themselves. I have no religious connection to my fasting, though it still effects me in a similar way. Like any challenge, it is satisfying to accomplish a day's worth of fasting. It provides a sense of freedom to practice this kind of self control. I learn that our minds and bodies are more capable than we might realize. I feel empowered through voluntary suffering, and the important things in life come into focus.