Peace Corps volunteers like to talk about how they go through “ups and downs” in the course of their service. This happens for two reasons. First, Peace Corps volunteers don’t really have all that much else to talk about sometimes, and second, it’s a pretty spot-on description of our lives. I personally haven’t felt to much of a rollercoaster as of yet, which is probably why I haven’t talked about my “ups” and/or “downs.”
That changed on March 7th. It was a Saturday over here (though, with the time differences, who knows what day it was where you are), and beautiful. The weather went through a last push of miserableness the week prior, but has become spring as of Saturday. (I know; how would I know what spring is like in Freedonia when I’ve only been here for three months? Just trust me on this one. You can tell.)
Anyway, I started the day by having to go over to the elementary school around the block to give a little presentation on English and American culture. We decided that since the kids there are a little young to be going to the Dar Shebab at night, it would be good to come over and do something at the school proper. We also figured that we’d do it on the Friday earlier, but things happened to prevent this. Which turned out to be the best decision we could have made. I got to the school, the sun was shining, the kids were running around, and the principal seemed to have no recollection of why I had been expected to come. Instead, he surmised that I wanted to introduce myself to all the students, and so he brought me to all the classrooms and I got to give a one-minute speech about what on Earth I’m doing in Freedonia, a speech I’ve gotten pretty good at by this point in my service.
The story gets ever better from there. After leaving the school, I decided to go to the souk. The souk is the open-air market for which Morocco is so popular, and with the beautiful weather, it was in full swing. his had been one of my problems over the past month of trying to furnish my house: there never being any vendors in the souk on account of the rain and cold. Not the case this particular day.
And, if you’ve never been to the souk before, I can assure you that you’re missing out. Even if you have no intention of buying anything, it’s just a great place to walk around. The best part of it is the vegetable souk, where there are easily a thousand people crammed into a space that should have been intended for half that many, pushing their way though rows of farmers fresh from the fields. It’s like a baseball stadium, except that the vendors don’t have chili dogs, and the peanut guys are singing about their plastic bags, not their peanuts. I love it.
I also love pasta, and I’ve been a little bit of a hard time going without it, but I found one guy in the souk who sells loose pasta by the kilo. So I bought some, and when I did, he said what everyone says when I buy something: “You’re not from here, are you?” Actually, I started getting a lot of people asking me if I’m from Syria, which is due to the fact that a lot of Syrians come here to dig wells in the summer, though I like to tell myself it’s because I sound like someone who knows what he’s doing when he speaks Arabic – he’s just not used to the Moroccan dialect. Anyway, we got to talking about why I’m there (which I was significantly better at after my introductions that morning), and he started telling me how he wanted to buy me a chicken dinner when I convert to Islam, and a handful of other guys hanging around the stand got excited about teaching me how to read the Qur’an. One, a professor, even offered to teach me to read Arabic for free. Now, some volunteers really hate when Moroccans talk to them about converting (which is something that can happen on a daily basis, if not more frequently), but I really don’t mind. I haven’t run into anyone who wants to convert me because he has any particular problems with me not being a Muslim; in their eyes it’s just the next step in my becoming more awesome. And, this being such a beautiful, fun day already, I had a great time of chatting with these guys and talking about the kind of chicken I wanted.
The rest of the day turned out great. Nothing really special happened at any point, but that’s not really the difference between a great day and not. It was just a great day, and felt the way that being in the Peace Corps is supposed to feel.
The following day was pretty similar. We spent more-or-less all day cleaning the natural spring in town, which was nothing like I thought it would be. I tend to associate cleaning a pond-like canal with removing trash (the natural spring is basically a hole in the ground where water comes out, so the town has built a canal to send the water all over Freedonia). In this instance, however, it was more about removing all the plants growing there, so we all jumped in the water and pulled out the weeds. And, I have to admit, it looked a lot nicer for our efforts.
And we had a great time. Sure, we slashed open our feet on hopefully-not broken bottles and exposed ourselves to countless tropical diseases, and sure, we were wading around in water infested with what looked exactly like the disgusting CETI eel larvae that Khan put in Chekov’s ear in Star Trek II, but we also got to play the part of countryside rubes to the city-folk tourists who flock to the spring by the busload. And, since all they knew about the spring was that it’s known for its delicious-tasting water (as evidenced by the multitude of empty bottles they brought up with them – some even asked for a few bottles we dredged out of the canal), they thought that the weeds we were pulling out were some kind of special spring plant and kept asking about them and how much we were selling them for. It was priceless, and probably the most fun I’ve had “working” in the Peace Corps. I’m still feeling it in my legs and back, though.
Finally, my dissertation on feeling great wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t mention my little cousin, Khadija, known affectionately as “Khadooj.” Khadooj is about two years old, speaks no Darija, and has been terrified of me until about two weeks ago when she suddenly got used to me and is now my best friend. I’m completely in love with her. Khadooj is completely in love with stealing my hat. We've got two-way street kind of thing going on. And I’ve come to the realization that if I ever become the father of any daughters, I’m going to shortly thereafter become a huge sucker. Possibly a sucka MC, if I’m lucky.
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