What You've Been Waiting For

Or, as my eternally lovable training comrade, Anthony, would say: That for which you’ve been waiting. Either way you put it, I recognize that I have been very amiss in my writings in talking about my actual work here in Morocco, tending more towards philosophical tangents and nonsense.

Now, my work and nonsense. As I hope you are aware by this point, I am a Peace Corps volunteer. If you were not aware, I’m afraid that you’re going to have to do your own research on that subject, as, this not being an official Peace Corps publication, I’m not at liberty to tell you anything about it all. In fact, I may have said too much already. Let’s start again.

I am a volunteer with an organization that shall remain unnamed, working in the Youth Development sector. Youth Development varies somewhat form country to country within this organization, but in Morocco, this means working with the Ministry of Youth and Sports out of a building (there’s one in most all big towns, more than one in really big towns) called a Dar Shebab, which means “youth house.” It’s not exactly a house, however; it’s really more of a youth center. Mine actually does have a house attached to it, though, for the mudir, or director, to live in.

So, what do I do at the Dar (as we call it)? Well, the Dar is open from Tuesday to Saturday, at varying intervals of the day, so I go and teach English classes every evening except for Fridays. But, I should correct myself; it’s not so much that I teach English classes as it is that we do. “We” being myself and Ali, my counterpart. Ali is fluent in English himself, and does at least half or more of the work for the classes, as well as taking care of just about everything else that I have to do with me. If it weren’t for his New York Yankees hat, I’d say he’s a great guy.

There are two levels of class that we teach: beginner/intermediate on Tuesday and Wednesday, and advanced/baccalaureate on Thursday and Saturday. Fortunately, there are also two categories of students: ones who come only a few days a week, and ones who come everyday. Unfortunately, this means that the levels of the classes are really more of an academic exercise for me when I’m planning, and don’t really carry over too much into the classroom. We’re working on that, though.

But English teaching, though important, is really only a secondary objective for the organization’s Youth Development volunteers. The main idea, as you might imagine, is youth development, which is much bigger than just English classes. We spend a lot of our time doing activities with the youth, working with other organizations, motivating parents to take part in the lives of their children, and helping schools with their projects. That’s the idea, anyway. My town of Freedonia (you’ll recall that Freedonia isn’t actually its name) is quite developed for a site in Morocco. For example, there’s Ali who could do all the classes himself if he wanted to, there’s several organizations that run activities for the Dar Shebab, a bunch of older youth putting together their own organization to help tackle the lack of employment opportunities. In short, I’m not entirely sure why this town needs a volunteer, but I’m happy so far to tag along with these guys while they work.

And so I’ve spent the rest of my time meeting the principals of the various schools here (there are four elementary schools, one junior high, and one high school, as well as a private elementary and high school), talking to English teachers, and spending time with my host family. My house is in possibly the most aesthetically fantastic location in Freedonia. It sits at the top of a gentle cliff, looking out over a valley with a clear shot to the major city nearby. It’s gorgeous when it’s not raining. My family consists of my host mom, Mahjouba; dad, Mustapha; brothers, Mohammad, Smail, and Aisam; and sister, Noura, who lives and goes to college in Local Major City. Of course, this being Morocco there are also tons of other family around. In fact, my grandfather (who just left last week to perform the Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca - we’ll talk about that later), is the owner of the local ladies’ hammam. His house is a great place to hang out on cold winter days with all the pipes of scalding hot water.

Beginning this week, I’m going to have to start looking for my own place to live, though. I’m looking forward to the independence it will bring, though it will mean more work I have to do on the part of housekeeping and staying occupied. I do a fair amount here, washing my own clothes and taking care of my room – though my host mom would certainly prefer to do those things for me – but I don’t get to cook. It’s actually one of the most difficult parts of living in a host family in a country where such things are expected to be done by women only, but I did get to make a Thanksgiving dinner the other day, which was fantastic.

Anyway, that should give you some idea of what I’ve been up to around here. Stay tuned for some flashbacks about what I was up to during training.