Camel Trek, Part One

This is a picture of Ghilzan, a nomadic girl of the Middle Atlas Mountains, who was minding her family's tent (as well as their turkeys, goats, dogs and drying laundry), while her parents were off tending sheep. Seeing her was one of many great moments on the drive to the Sahara. (One of the others was when our Moroccan driver Sayeed and guide Hamza switched from Moroccan music to Madonna's "Holiday," one of my all time favorite songs, and one completely incongruous with the scenery. ) Morocco has an extremely varied terrain, and our journey took us from Rabat on the Atlantic Ocean, through the Middle Atlas and then High Atlas Mountains, and then to the desert southeast, about 25 miles from Algeria. The area in which Ghilzan's family graze their sheep is reminiscent of Central Asia: rocky, windswept, with short green grass and bushes. (Rosemary grows wild in the area, and we grabbed some to refresh our closets back at Home Base.) Other parts are what I would call high chapparel, others craggy red gorges, and then long oasis-like, mile-wide swaths of palm trees following the main rivers. The towns in between are dusty, crowded, with lots of construction on the main roads. We did stop to see a traditional ancient Kasbah, which is analoguous to a feudal castle in Europe, and to shop for fossils captured in marble. As far as the people go, they seem quite relaxed somehow, in the midst of what feels like us to be a discombulated environment. It may be the comfort of mostly living in small towns, with traditional roles for everyone, and really, no particular need to chase a buck, because there are none to be found. Berber women in the high country are mostly covered up (not their faces, though) and in addition, wear a black drape over the whole ensemble. The people are so interesting looking (as they descend from all parts of Africa and Arabia), but it is considered rude, or even scandalous to photograph them, so we can only look. Very frustrating! (Ghilzan the nomad girl above was reassured by Sayeed and Hamza, and we left money for her family, for the pleasure of looking closely at, and photographing, their home and animals.) Anyway, the total drive to the Sahara took about 9 hours. We left Friday afternoon (six of us) and stopped overnight in a great hotel in Azrou. (The walls of the main salon and the staircase were beautifully tiled in traditional Moroccan style, and the food was also traditional and delicious.) I took a walk early in the morning, but it was clear that I was the only woman in sight, so quickly returned to the hotel. On Saturday, we made the rest of the trip to the Sahara, arriving at our destination Merzouga at about 5:00 pm -- in time to put on our desert turbans and get on the camels for a sunset ride of one and half hours into the desert. More details will follow in the next one or two blogs. Until then, b'salaamah.

Morocco - Land of Contradictions

Hi, everyone. I'm trying to figure out how to upload pictures, so I hope this works!

I will tell you about my camel trip tomorrow night, but wanted to just send along this picture of two young women looking out from an ancient mosque high above Rabat, to a construction site below (one of the young king's many projects). It kind of captures the incredible complexity of this country. It's simultaneously old and new; African, Arab, and French; secular and Islamic. Listening to the radio as the van takes us to the orphanage every day is quite an experience, and not just because of the insane second-world traffic all around us (you know, people driving on the sidewalk, all kinds of vehicles competing for inches of space, etc.) Anyway, all the announcing is in French; the news is always in the official language of Arabic; and the music is American. Last Friday, as we waited in the van to leave the orphanage, our driver Abdou was listening to the Friday sermon, sort of a soothing, droning monologue in Arabic. It was followed almost immediately on the station by HARD CORE RAP complete with the F-word and quite explicitly sexual lyrics!

Another example is our neighborhood. It's filled with embassies and fancy homes, but any empty lots are a wreck, strewn with garbage. Sidewalks start and stop. The traffic signs show a little green man, indicating "go," but the cars just move on through the intersections, which is a bit unnerving. It's all rather topsy turvy, with things strangely unfinished and discombobulated.

On top of it all is the Moroccan sand - soft and red, and pervading sandals, air, clothes. No matter how neat and new things are, the sand humbles it.

Okay, must go. If you can believe it (I can't), a bunch of us are making reservations on Orbitz for Cairo for the weekend of November 7. Somebody pinch me....

B'salaamah.

Five Days In -- Shared House, Lots of Babies, Camels Next!

As-salaam aleikum from Rabat. To bring you up to date....

My journey here was pleasantly uneventful. As predicted, I didn't really get excited until the wheels hit the ground in Morocco, but did start getting to know others in my group during the flight and while waiting on various customs/passport lines. Our group ranges in age from 78 (a retired nurse from London) to two recent grads who both turned 22 years old this week. There are single people and married couples, mostly mellow, experienced travelers, and more women than men. The group already in the house is much younger; the social divide is stark already!

The Cross Cultural Solutions house (aka “Home Base”) here in Rabat is what I would call “perfectly adequate.” It's in a fancy neighborhood in the suburbs, with embassies and such like all around, but by U.S. standards it's upper middle class. There are nice houses and Mercedes, but empty lots with litter in between. Sidewalks are inconsistent; where they are not, you just march through the dusty red Moroccan sand, and negotiate around the cactus and wild bougainvillea. We're on a busy street and Moroccans drive like maniacs, so I'm trying very hard not to get run over as I walk near the house. It would be totally ridiculous to come this far only to be run over by a Moroccan taxi!

If I have time/skill, I'll upload pictures of the house and my bunkbed digs. Outside of being terrified that I will snore or worse during the night, I'm sleeping fairly well. Plenty o'closet space; the bathroom not TOO gross; shower water usually at least warm. Almost all toilet seats in the house are broken or loose (I don't think Moroccans sit down), so THAT's a little disconcerting!

We are being fed wonderful Moroccan and Mediterranean food; we eat together (about 25 of us) in a large salon, with couches around the outside and short tables with small ottomans in the middle. Meals are precisely timed, so we are already Pavlovian in our response to the bell that's rung at mealtimes, jostling each other to line up at the buffet. At 4:00 PM, mint tea is served, along with small semi-sweet pastries (sort of like pancakes).

Now, about the volunteer work....Each morning, 14 of us are taken into downtown Rabat (near the ancient Medina) in a big white van to the Lalla Meriem Home for Abandoned Children. Some of the “children” are actually adults of indiscriminate age and severely deformed. The other 200 or so range in age from 0 to 6. The orphanage is in decent condition; what you'd expect from any such institution. The nurses are efficient, a bit rough by our standards with the kids, but basically kind. I have opted for the easiest gig I could think of, which is to help with the 6 to 12 month-olds. There are about 12 children in our area of the orphanage (what's called the “nid jaune,” or “yellow nest”), and I and another female volunteer help the nurses from 8:30 to 12:30 daily. You can pretty much imagine our work, as it's universal -- changing stinky diapers; wrestling just bathed-limbs into too tight clothes; comforting or distracting inconsolable screamers; bottle feeding; and cleaning up milky vomit. What makes it all a bit weird is that the nurses are trying desperately to tell us what to do in either French or Arabic, and then realizing we speak neither competently, using emphatic hand gestures and nods. The other thing that's quite odd is to see how docile the babies are. They're quite normal, but for the most part, they know that crying doesn't really pay off. They all wait patiently while the others are held, bathed, changed and fed.

We also spend a large chunk of time minding the babies in a 10' by 10' playpen. We just sit in there with them (which is of course no small feat with my creaky body). They roll over each other, cry, poop, throw up, suck their thumbs, touch the others gently, or just snooze. We keep them cleaned, and entertain them with songs and funny faces. We're also trying to touch and caress them a lot, in the hope that some small bit of the experience will make them think later in life that they deserve to be loved.

Back to Home Base and Rabat...we're getting Arabic and Moroccan history lessons, and have been taken on a quick tour of the Kasbah and the medina (old city), where all the souks (markets) are. The CCS managers who work with us speak classical Arabic, Moroccan Arabic, French, Berber and English; they are excellent sources of information, and we're allowed to ask any question, no matter how dumb or culturally inappropriate. Mainly, I request from them the Arabic words for diaper, bottle, feed, sleep, don't cry, etc.

This coming weekend, I am traveling with six other volunteers to the edge of the Saharan desert , for camel rides and camping. Should be a blast – we'll drive through much of this beautiful country, including the High Atlas mountains, and will see great music, visit with Tuareg people and other local stuff. (If you have a map of Morocco handy, you can see our route from Rabat on the northern Atlantic coast to Merzouga in the south east of the country, near Algeria.) I'll fill you all in next week about the journey.

I think that's all for now. I'm enjoying myself, unwinding, not thinking AT ALL about my life before or after this trip (perhaps dangerously so). I'm just moving along, even letting other people plan all the weeekend side trips. I am so enjoying not being responsible for anything, except little Ahmed, Omar, Aaliyah, et al.

B'salaamah.

Can't Wait to Begin My Journey!

Friends, family and colleagues...

I'll be flying to Rabat, Morocco on Friday, October 9, to begin three months of service, soul searching and sightseeing.

Mondays through Fridays, I will be volunteering at the Lala Maryem Center for Abandoned Children, where I will join full time staff and about a dozen other volunteers in caring for 250 children aged 0 to 6. Arabic and French will be the languages of choice, so I'm sure I'll be gesturing alot in a frantic attempt to communicate!

On weekends, I will be traveling (with other volunteers, I hope) to places like Fez, Marrakesh and the Atlas Mountains to enjoy all the wonders that Morocco has to offer.

I'll be living in a large, comfortable house with other volunteers (sort of like a dorm with bunk beds and all), with a garden outside, and even a nearby supermarket. "Board" is included, too, so I'll be enjoying homecooked Moroccan cuisine all week long. As an added bonus, I'll get help with Arabic from Mohamed Mhmoudi and other friendly staff members at the house, plus cultural training and lectures.

I think I may have a bit of culture shock when I arrive, not to mention jet lag, so it may be a week or two before I write a post.

Until then, b'salaama.