Working on A Life

Experience is what its all about. And the stories. Post college most people go on to find a job, or apply to grad school. I decided just to live. This is my story as related to my family and friends. (This journal represents ONLY my views and none of Peace Corps or the US government.)

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Location: New England

We are working parents looking to make the most of whatever adventures we can find close to home.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Marrakech and Mountains

Hey All,

How's the weather back home? Snowed yet? I realize that some of you that read this have probably never even seen snow but I have to start the conversation someplace so forgive me. I'm interested in learing what's new the world over and that starts with you guys. You can e-mail me or write me back from time to time. I'll allow that.

Anyway, the month of November for me has been a bit crazy so I'll try to remember all the interesting things that happened in some kind of order so that it can be followed. Of course I'm prone to rambling these days so who knows where I'll end up with things.

The month actually started with the end of Ramadan, which I covered in detail in my last e-mail so I won't go back that far. For the purposes of this letter we'll start on the day after that, November 5th when Mark and I tried to get transit down to town to pick up our November living allowance. PC's version of a paycheck... about 260 bucks which covers rent and food for the month and any transportation that's not work related. Our problems began when we discovered that there wasn't any transit since most of the usual drivers had not yet returned from their families where they had spent the holiday. This poses a problem for us because we only get the weekends off, regardless of what's happening so we had to go while it was still the weekend or risk having no time to do anything in the city which for many reasons, was unacceptable. Its a long way to go simply to turn around and come back.

Eventually we did find some tranzit. A family had hired a private van to take them back down the mountains and we begged and pleaded and looked miserable until the driver relented and agreed to take us too. This actually worked out for the best as we had time to sleep a little extra and had given up hope all together only to have it restored in spades. Plus there was time for breakfast. Apple pancakes... my new specialty. Hey.. I have to do something with the 25 kilograms of flour I had to buy since it doesn't come in smaller sizes. It also turned out to be one of the fastest trips down the mountain that I've yet had since we didn't stop to pick up anyone extra along the way and since they were going all the way to Marrakech....

Mark and I jumped ship at Agouim and made our way to OZ only to discover that there was no money there. For me this was a bit of a dangerous situation because PC had not yet given me rent money so I had been paying that out of my food money. This normally doesn't matter because food only costs me about 5 bucks a week in site but when you consider that this is the 4th month that I haven't gotten the extra money then I started to get a little concerned. We called PC and discovered that this was a problem for many of the volunteers and they hoped the money would arrive the next week. This normally would be a problem since it would mean several more trips up and down the mountains, which are always difficult but this time I had to come through in a little while anyway for a meeting in Marrakech with my actual employers (at least in name) the Moroccan Ministry of Water and Forests. So, we did our usual weekend business and went back. 3 days later on Friday I turned around and headed down the hill to Marrakech. The plan was to pick Mark up on the way and we would spend a couple of nights with a friend from training on the outskirts of the city and then head into the city proper for the meeting on Monday.

Mark missed the transit and since there is only one I couldn't get out and go get him. The driver refused to wait so I kept on down the hill without him and worried about where he might have gotten to. I hoped that he had just slept in. The rest of the trip was long and expensive. About 11 hours and 200 dirhams to get to Chris's house. It was great to see him though! He's got power in his house and a TV with a DVD player and he buys bootlegs in the city so I got to see a couple of movies that I had been wanting to back home. The quality (not to mention the legality) was dubious but it was worth it after 11 hours on the road just to sit and relax. Plus he used some ingredients that he got from home to make chili and it was delicious. The night passed quickly.

Saturday was beautiful and we did the breakfast bit then got some snack food and tuna for lunch and headed out to one of his primary project sites. It is a combined Gazelle and Mufalon (think big horn sheep... a giant mountain goat with long beards and boots) reserve where he is helping his local association build visitor facilities to help generate tourist income. For me this was the first of several experiences this month that helped me find the environment I came here to help in the first place. This was the kind of thing that I had signed up to do. Admittedly he is not helping very much and is having many of the same problems that I'm (and the rest of the PCV's) are having with the beauocracy and such. Still... to be able to do hands on projects directly affecting the park and surrounding land is awesome. The reason for my jealousy was that we managed to have a wonderful picnic lunch inside the reserve (illegal for most people and we were actually bugged by foresters until we produced some ID) and got to watch a heard of more than 50 sheep the whole time. It was amazing. Chris tells me that he's never seen so many in one place before.

We finished lunch and hiked back to meet his tutor a little concerned that we hadn't yet heard from Mark since he should have reached pavement and therefore cell phone reception about lunch time. Still, we didn't worry too much and we couldn't have done anything even if we had. His tutor was cool and spoke good english... which one upped me... Ohh well. We spent the afternoon back at Chris's place playing chess and I was delighted to discover that we play at the same level. That is to say we play very badly, and we split evenly on the number of games we each won. This kept things interesting.

The next morning we went into the city. This was the first time I've been to Marrakech and actually had some time to look around and do things. First things first however and we hit up Pizza hut. The Medina (market) was HUGE and full of interesting things that I couldn't afford at the time and the main market square was packed with snake charmers, tamed monkeys, acrobats and other oddities. We spent quite a while enjoying these things and also the International Film Festival which happened to be in town at that time. Most of the movies were in french and we didn't end up actually watching anything but there was an unusual number of famous people meandering about. The only thing that didn't cooperate was the weather. It was rainy and cool all that first day. I picked up a wooden chessboard in the market for dirt cheap and we continued our games indoors when things turned really nasty. Eventually we went to the big wal-mart type store and purchased a few things I can't otherwise get (Peanut butter).

The day of the meeting dawned and we discovered first thing that there was no meeting. It had been moved to Tuesday which meant that I would have another night in the City. Monday was a work day though and I spent a lot of time on the computer doing paperwork for the Trees project and managed to arrange a meeting in French to meet with the owner of several nurseries in the area and determine prices and secure a Devis... a french document guaranteeing a fixed price for a certain quantity of goods. With this document I could finish my grant paperwork and all I would need to submit it on the first of december was a couple of signatures from back in the village. Arranging all this took most of the day but I did manage to meet up with a few other volunteers in town to help local artisans market their products to the people at the film festival. I acquired a berber wool coat from a man I had met before on this side of the mountains free of charge as I had helped him spin and weave the wool the last time I had been here and because he has a really good relationship with the volunteer that lives in his village. Still no word from mark... I called PC to let them know that I thought he was sick and hadn't managed to make it to the meeting. Right after I called we heard from him. He had made it to Ouarzazate but wasn't going to make it to the meeting. I would see him there in a few days.

Tuesday came and we had the meeting. This consisted of mostly us meeting the guy that is supposed to be in charge of us. (keep in mind its 9 months in now) and outlining for him what we have been up to. The guy had no idea that we were coming and only ended up staying for one of the presentations and took off. I left with no clearer idea how this organization was going to help me and in a big rush to get back to Ouarzazate and my paycheck because by now I was dangerously low on funds. The drive back was my second "back to the environment" experience of the month. It had just snowed in the upper part of the pass and I went through it with the late afternoon sun reflecting off these peaks beautifully. It was a great ride except the driver was a bit crazy and insisted on being called fred flinstone the whole time because it was only fair that he get an "American" name if i had a berber one. Thankfully I survived in one piece. But my money wasn't there....

For the next 6 days and 7 nights I waited in Ouarzazate because I had arrived just in time for the Post office to close for the Moroccan independence day holiday. Normally it would have only been closed on friday but since this was the 50th anniversary edition the parliament decided that they would extend it to 3 days starting wednesday. This was a surprise to pretty much everyone since it happened at the close of business on Tuesday... I was now stuck in Oz with 52 dirhams to my name... roughly 5 dollars, until monday when the office re-opened. Luckily Mark had been there to get his and I borrowed money to last me through the week. He took off for a 3 day beach vacation and I settled in. On the up side I did get bunches of work done. I finished all my grant paperwork and submitted it minus a couple of signatures. When I did this I was told by my program manager that more people had applied for grants in the first quarter from U.S. Aid's small project program then they had money for the whole year.... This is bad news but not the end of the world. I can do nothing at this point but wait and see what happens.

My money did come on monday and I went back up the hill Tuesday. I was happy except that the mix up had ruined any chance of my spending Thanksgiving with another american. Mark was vacationing still and so there I was... alone. I resolved to spend the holiday the most interesting way I knew how and went exploring. I ended up climbing a mountain and having a revealing and special experience. I'll save you the details here but if you're curious I decided that some other of my elite circle could benefit from my mental breakthroughs and so I wrote an essay for publication in our in country volunteer published magazine. You can read it if you're curious here... http://atibbs.blogspot.com/2005/11/thanksgiving.html and if you go to the regular journal you can see a couple of pictures... http://atibbs.blogspot.com . More pictures soon!

I spent a lot of time that week revisiting places I hadn't been much and working on trying to integrate myself some more into my village with some success. I even had tea with some people that weren't members of my host family, though in a cafe and not their homes. The women have also been braving conversations with me from the roof tops, through the windows of my house, behind trees, or any other time I can't see them and directly converse. Hey.. its a start. I got the signatures I needed and prepared for yet another trip down the mountains to deliver. Mark visited me on Monday when he returned and I went back with him on Tuesday to his village which is much less protected and much colder than mine.... It was about 40 degrees INSIDE his house. It snowed overnight right above his village and the mountains were gorgeous in the morning. On the 30th I made it back to town and officially completed my first grant proposal for my first project. Its a good feeling... now I just have to hope that it works out. EeallahAlowm... only god knows.

Other things of note this month.... Mark's got a moroccan girlfriend he picked up at the post office. Actually it sounds like she may have picked him up. I ate at their house with him once this week. It was an interesting experience. I'll fill you in with details of all that as I get them. The whole process still is a barrel of laughs for me as I have no interest in attempting it. I'm also doing my best to follow in my moms footsteps as a great minimalist cook. Successful dishes this month include several moroccan favorites, some mexican rice and homemade tortillas, rice pilaf (notice a rice theme here) and potatoes and cheese. I've also done some easier stuff like mac and cheese with pre-packaged cheese wedges and various salads with olive oil and vinegar.

Plans for the immediate future include a week long conference in Agadir. Its an "after six months in your village now what?" training session and for me the best part is that I get to see all the friends that I met during training and have now been separated from for half a year. I still get shivers thinking that its been that long already. Time really is flying for me... such a strange element. Also my plans for Christmas include a vacation of a few days with friends down to the Dunes of the Sahara in a town called Merzuga. Should be fun if I can pull it off. I'll let you know all about it as close to the first of the new year as I can. I should also be around to at least check e-mail until the 12th of december so this is a good time to get an immediate response from me.

Alright... I guess that's about it for now and believe it or not that's the short version... If you have any questions about any of this, or about life in morocco in general then ASK THEM... and I'll be happy to answer them if I know or try and find out. I'm always up for new challenges. Many of you that I have addresses for have letters in the mail... They aren't christmas letters per say but are the best that I can do for gifts at the moment so bear with me.

I love you all and I hope you are all well...
Love and luck in Everything
-Andy

Thursday, December 01, 2005

My Village... Finally

This is 1/2 of my village from above it on the north side... My house is on the left front village section hidden mostly by trees. Its Cement and stone though, not mud so you should be able to find it.

Thanksgiving Mountain

This is me on top of "Thanksgiving Mountian" My valley is below and you can find my village if you look real close in the bottom leftish...

Thanksgiving

Hey all,
This is an exerpt (edited twice now for length and clarity) from my journal on thanksgiving that I thought later might have some usefull messages for my elite circle here in Morocco and perhaps some people at home. As a result I'm considering submiting it to the in country voulenteer magazine. Before I do I would love to hear what you think so drop me a line... you know the address or post a message on here!

I woke up early on Thanksgiving to a morning that was chilly but promised a warm sun.
Through an unfortunately timed series of Moroccan holidays and the usual endless list of post office mishaps I had been doomed to spend the holiday alone in my village, the only American. I had promised myself that if it had to be that way then I might as well make it an opportunity and get out and about and do some exploring. Give myself time to consider all that I had to be thankful for.

Half an hour later I was on the road up and out of the valley. I had no idea where I was headed and didn’t really care. The promise of the day had been accurate. The breeze, brisk and refreshing, was counterbalanced perfectly by the warmth of the sun and there was water everywhere. Streams that for months had been dry or the merest trickle now bubbled and gurgled as only streams can; making their happy way to the rivers on the valley floor. The rivers themselves now resembled miniature versions of the worlds greatest whitewater stretches and filled the valley with a constant yet soothing roar that receded to the background as soon as you stopped thinking about it.

Before I got to far I ran headlong into progress. The road had been blocked with a waist high pile of rocks and debris and a backhoe, which reminded me of an over large yellow insect, was busily knocking a niche out of the mountainside rock for a new house. The machine somehow struck me at the time as terribly out of place there on a road that sees perhaps a single car on a busy week. Evidence of just how out of place had been readily apparent in the form of a large crowd that had gathered to watch the beast work. I suddenly found myself unreasonably irritated by this noisy intrusion into my world. What business had this “Thing” here where the same tasks had been done quite well by mere men for hundreds of years? What right had it to ruin the perfect harmony that nature had promised me this day?

I looked then at the faces of the gathered throng staring at the machine in rapt fascination, even wonder. When I considered how quickly the work was progressing and how much easier it was this mechanized way my frustration faded. I could not begrudge these people progress. What was for me an uncomfortable break in the spell of a place that was still more wilderness than civilization was for the people of the village a modern marvel well beyond the means of most. I might find the old ways honorable, interesting and in the end quite functional but they make for a hard and demanding life and I am not the one that has to live it. I came here wanting better for these people and here it was in the form of a mass of metal and hydraulics, clanking away. Still, this encounter left me with mixed emotions. Clearly this wasn’t what I was looking for in my morning stroll.

On a whim I stopped at the rubble pile and looked up at the mountain towering beside the road. I pulled the straps on my pack tighter and scrambled up the first slope. I attacked it in true Berber style, without path or trail, map or compass, and following the most direct route between where I was and the peak where I wanted to end up. Soon I had left the machine and its dust far below and once again the air was filled with the sounds of rushing water, diminished slightly by the altitude and now forced to compete for my attention with the noise of the wind. Also in the air were the songs of Thekla larks, crested songbirds who were sharing my world in that moment. I agitated a pair as I passed by the thorny bush in which they were perched and they launched themselves into their soaring, dipping circular flight chattering away at me until I had safely passed them.

They were the last things that I had time to admire before the slope became very steep and the rocks wobbled in their sockets like lose teeth when I touched them. I was forced to forget all else except putting one food above the other carefully, lest the rocks betray me and send me tumbling below. It was only the mountain and I then, the two of us sharing time and challenging each other to bring out our best. The struggle made me happy, or perhaps the forgetting did. Either way I smiled as I worked.

Time flew by and I scrambled up one last pitch to the summit and was nearly blown over backwards by the wind coming over the peak. Some clouds had begun to form over Mt. Toubkal to the north and blocked my view. To the east there a mountain taller than mine that performed the same function. The view to the south however, was open and magnificent. I could see the whole valley I had just come through; its entire length decked in autumn splendor.

Here at last was the “environment.” I had come a long way and waited a long time to find it but at the risk of sounding cliché it was worth it. I wedged myself between some rocks to block most of the wind and appreciate everything I could see. The larks, far below me now, had resumed their abandoned perch though one or the other of them would occasionally lift itself off over the valley as if checking to be sure all was well below. The sun warmed rocks created heat waves shimmering in my vision down the mountainside. The warm air swirled together and raced upwards towards me but didn’t make it all the way as the cold air coming from behind me was the stronger. Still, some crows on the next mountain over were making use of a similar phenomenon to ride effortlessly in upward spirals. I wondered if they were doing it to serve some purpose that I could not see, or just for fun. Either way I envied them the ease with which they gained the heights, though perhaps I appreciated my own way more for having worked for it.
The trees that lined the valley floor were resplendent in the earth tones of still unfallen leaves. I could watch -- and did for several fascinating minutes -- gusts of wind blow down the valley and liberate some from where the branches still held them jealously to whisk them away and deposit them elsewhere. Away in the far distance the foothills of the range coated the ground like a rumpled and discarded piece of newspaper while more immediately to my sides I could see the snow covered giants of the range. Their caps were wreathed with wispy clouds that reflected the sunlight and gave them the appearance of having fiery halos; appropriate because these jagged pinnacles soared above even my lofty perch as if striving to reach the heavens.

Down in the valley the dirt buildings of several villages along the walls blended nearly seamlessly with their surroundings making it possible to forget the human aspect of the larger picture. I reminded myself that failure to remember them would be a mistake. Even though the majesty of my mountain perch confirmed for me what had been here first and what would likely be here longest, to ignore the activity of man would be to forfeit all the beauty that spread itself before me. The people that my vantage point reduced to tiny colored dots moving on the edges of my vision are both the and unwilling stewards and the unwitting destroyers of this wonderful place. The battle for simple survival here is no less bitter on either side for its being fought unconsciously. Nature tries to keep its balance and beauty; the people try to wrest from it what they need simply to live. It has resulted for the time being in a stalemate from which neither side benefits. Nature becomes slowly less self sufficient, degrading bit by bit; but with its mountainous backbone it will never completely give up its threatening unpredictability or its grandeur. The people do indeed live here but what a life! Constantly struggling for barest existence and never relaxing in leisure or comfort for fear of the next storm or season. There must be a better way! And there is, but it is a race where most of the participants couldn’t care less who wins and those that do care are often outsiders that must compete blindfolded or mute. Still, we must all play. What choice is there.

From where I was perched it was easy to believe that I was completely alone in the world and subconsciously it had been this solitude that I had been seeking all along. In it my thoughts inevitably turned inwards; examining myself in as much detail as I had just been examining my surroundings. Asking myself familiar questions: Have I made the right choice? Do I have a purpose here? Do I belong? I have ripped away all of my comforts, my connections, my friends and family. Taken my life down to the same level as the bedrock that formed the peak on which I sat so that I had only myself to rely on. What’s more I did so willingly, even enthusiastically. I have thrown away the rulebook for a chance at living a life where only I make the rules, where I can learn every facet of myself in excruciating and often painful detail and improve my character in areas where I found it wanting. I have come for a chance to help people and to help the natural environment which I so love and I have done all of this for reasons that even those that love me most may never understand. Some days I think they are right to call me crazy because the understanding they want so very badly eludes even me… … but not today. Not after sitting up there with only myself and the mountain and the window it provided to the world; my world. A world that I had nearly forgotten because I was bogged down in the process and the details; I was lost in the how of things.

Up there if only for a moment, I was above all the people and the noise and the problems and the daily challenges demanded by a life in an unfamiliar and alien place. Above the language and the food and the damned road. Above all the mistakes I’ve made, the lessons I’ve learned and the hoops I’ve jumped through. Above paperwork and money and bureaucracy. Above my friends and their misunderstandings and my enemies with theirs. Above time and distance and separation. I could see clearly once again.

Up there I could observe my surroundings objectively without simultaneously having to be a part of them, consider my circumstances frankly and openly without bias and perhaps most importantly I could take an honest measure of myself with no one to impress or pacify or cajole. I didn’t have to pretend anything up there.

A friend once remarked to me that this country makes it easy to complain sometimes and at the time I completely agreed. Nor will it be the last time. I have done my fair share of complaining since arriving here and they will remain a valuable part of the arsenal of tools I employ to keep myself sane. However, from my vantage point on the mountain in that quiet moment I realized that it was so easy to complain because I had been focusing on the wrong question. It is not the HOW? that’s important but the WHY?. With clarity restored the natural beauty that spread before me managed eloquently and without words to answer all my questions. I did make the right choice to come here and to live my life differently. My purpose here was once again clear, my space on the chessboard clearly marked out -- if not my next move. So long as what I’m doing brings the stalemate even a fraction of a millimeter closer to positive resolution, makes a single life easier or brings someone the same satisfaction and joy in their surroundings that the mountain has given me, I most certainly belong.

Up on the mountain a shadow crossed over me as a cloud blocked the sun and brought me shivering out of my thoughts and back to the moment. The clouds which before were airy and beautiful had turned dark and menacing and threatened to eat the sun. I smiled and descended precariously back to my life, relinquishing the mountain for a time but vowing to remember its lessons.

As I write this the day has turned dreary and rain clatters against my windows. I just finished a meal of pasta leftovers, hardly turkey and stuffing but satisfying all the same so I don’t mind. I have spent the holiday alone but I could not have asked to do it in more awesome a fashion. My spirits aren’t hampered by the weather or by loneliness but are still looking at the world from the top of my mountain.

I answered the call of that nameless peak today. It was not the tallest or the most challenging. It neither conquered me nor I it. Instead we reached an understanding. Next week perhaps I will forget all the reasons why I am here and again become lost in the HOW… but not today. Today the mountain has given me a gift of beauty and perspective so that I can once again find myself. I am thankful for it.