Friday, October 9, 2009

Reasons For Leaving Morocco

I’m back in the U.S. now, and I probably owe absolutely everyone an explanation as to why. In short, I don’t feel I would be learning what I came there to learn.

Backing up. First off, Morocco’s awesome. Except for that one kid who tried to pickpocket one of my younger host-brothers (my host brother kicked his ass and chased him away) and the guy who tried to charge me 200 Dirhams for showing me around a handful of streets in Rabat (he got nothing after a very long discussion about why you have to specify first you’re doing something for a price), everyone I’ve met here’s been ridiculously nice. We’re talking “grab you by the arm and walk you somewhere if you’re lost” nice, and while they’re doing that, if they don’t know the way, they’ll ask other Moroccans for directions. Just for you, they’ll people will go so out of their way to help. It’s incredible.

And except for the one piece of graffiti I saw with the word “Juif” in a phrase in French that included a swastika on one wall somewhere in Rabat, I’ve felt no anti-Semitism. On the contrary, people have been really accepting. When I told my various host-brothers I’m Jewish, they didn’t seem phased. When I told them I speak Hebrew, they asked me to write their names in Hebrew. My older, soldier, host-brother’s friends asked me to talk to them in Hebrew. When I fasted Yom Kippur, my host-mother told me I’m going to heaven. To break my fast, she cooked me up some Harira and Shbekia, traditional ramaDan break-fast treats. I fasted, so it made sense to her to do this for me. It was more touching than I can ever explain. When I got to Rabat before coming back to the U.S., a very nice mad walked me for 10-15 minutes helping me find the synagogue. I talked Israeli-Palestinian conflict with another stranger who helped me find a watch-shop. I didn’t catch everything he said, but it included the words “Banu Adam” (children of Adam) to describe humanity, shaking his head in disbelief when miming a suicide bomber and talking about heaven, and telling me he knows one of the few remaining Jews of Rabat. When, at the end of the conversation, the man asked me if I’m Jewish, I told him I am. Before we parted ways, he gave me a big hug and an uncomfortably wet kiss on the cheek. Honestly, if one was stupid enough, one could get so very lost in Rabat until oh…say 3:30 in the morning while wearing a kippah with a giant Jewish star and menorahs all over it and with his tzit-tzit hanging out and not get crap for being Jewish. If one was careless enough to do this, people might ask if he’s “Yehudi” or “Juif” and then go right on not caring about that and giving him the correct directions home. I’m not saying I was all too cautious about it, I definitely pushed the envelope whenever I felt safe (which was eventually all the time), I’m just saying that the people I’ve met are so accepting. It’s an incredible thing to see.

But I guess that’s part of the reason I left. When I came to Morocco, I wanted to learn about Islam as it relates to “Radical Islam.” Morocco just didn’t seem the place for that. So many women walk around in shirts/pants (as opposed to the very flowy robes) without Hijabs. Women drive cars, and some smoke in public. Men with beards aren’t too common. People in my village (and I’m not saying this applies to everywhere in Morocco) and Morocco didn’t adhere to a strict version of Islam as is more common in Afghanistan or other places in the world known for Radical-Islam. Not that people weren’t religious. God-phrases were everywhere, and my host-mom prays five times a day. But it’s significantly different. People are friendly and helpful. They’re very respectful of my religion, nobody tried to convert me. When I asked a few people about the lack of beards, I got responses that all included other parts of the Islamic world, oppression of women, and how Moroccans just can’t understand how/why people do that.

So learning about Islam and how it relates to Radical-Islam in Morocco definitely did not look like it was going to happen for me.

Then there’s the Arabic. Darija (Moroccan Arabic) is significantly different from Standard Arabic (which is very close to Levant/more Middle-Eastern dialects).Darija uses the “V” and “”G” sounds absent in Standard Arabic, lacks the “TH” sound, drops a LOT of vowels when people speak, and the grammar’s all different. I could pay a tutor to teach me Standard Arabic while there, but I can do that anywhere. And the lack of everyday people to speak Standard Arabic to means there’s really no advantage of doing that in Morocco than anywhere else.

Peace Corps is amazing, and the work they’re doing around the world and in Morocco is incredible. To stay with them, volunteering at a Youth Center in Morocco would be completely worthwhile. Would be, if I wasn’t so goal-oriented. Staying in Morocco would push my goal of understanding/working on eliminating Radical-Islam/terrorism off by at least two years. I would be learning a very different (and more tolerant) brand of Islam, and a different Arabic than I’m after.

But I’m glad I went. I got to see that people in a Muslim country can modernize on a grand-scale without the hatred for “the West” you see on the news. I learned firsthand that poor, uneducated (sometimes illiterate) religious Muslims, who are supposed to be the group most susceptible to Radical-Islam, can also be the group most accepting and respectful of others. And that makes me so, so hopeful of the future.

I’m generalizing, I know, and I’ve heard the complete opposite experience from other volunteers. I have heard horror-stories. But from what I saw first-hand, I think absolutely every stereotype I was expecting to encounter in poor/rural area of a Muslim country was proven false it’s just too much to make me think the answers I’m seeking lie in Morocco.

So now I’m back in America, still trying to find a way to understand Radical-Islam, still trying to end the terrorism that took Albert’s life, and currently trying to come up with a different approach. That was the reason I went to Morocco in the first place. I thought I would find the answers in Morocco, but if my short time in a Muslim country has taught me anything, it’s that I was wrong about so much, that things aren’t always as bad as I imagine. I couldn’t be happier to be proven so wrong, to find everyday people in a Muslim country so warm and accepting. I’m usually so cynical, so pessimistic. For the first time in along time, I’m actually optimistic. It’s weird while simultaneously so relieving.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

My Host Family

At a cybercafe, using a French keyboard, so forgive me if my spellings off, but the keys are all screwy and im not used to their positions on the board.

Been living at my first host family for a few days. I have 5 brothers and a Mom. My oldest brothers in the army and speaks a little English, the next is almost fluent... and Im pretty sure were BFFs by now, the next is cool but only speaks very little English, and then theres the twins. The twins try to help me with the Darija, but they try to explain one word by using a whole mess of others, none of which do I understand. They also talk REALLY, and I cant stress that enough, REALLY fast when trying to explain a word to me.

My mom may be the nicest person ever, though. She also gets really attached really fast. My first night, she told me Im her child. She also said shed miss me when I go back to America. That caught me off guard, I had been there maybe an hour.

Ive got my own room, which is one of two bedrooms. Theres a living room, kitchen, and one other room. We have a running water, electricity, a fridge, and a squat toilet. The kitchen has a drain in the corner by the fridge, so we hang up a curtain in the doorway and boil-up some water when I want to take a bucket bath.

Language classes are going well. Its me and 3 other PCVs in this town learning Darija. Weve all become close, theyre awesome.

In other news, its nearing the end of RamaDan, and Ive been fasting every day. Honestly, its not that hard, its kinda like every days Taanit Ester though. RamaDan ends in a day or so, and my soldier brother came back to celebrate the end-of-RamaDan holiday with the family.

What else has happened? Ive busted out the ukulele, turns out my BFF brother really like Heaven by Brian Adams, and I just so happen to know how to play that. My other brother plqyed me some Moroccan rap on his MP3, so I introduced him to some Jurassic 5 and Black Eyed Peas via the uke. He asked me to write down their names so he can download the songs. BFF brother and I were talking the other day about everything and anything. Got a little confusing when he confused Rome with Romania. He the ntaught me the Darija names for a few other countries, including Germany. Germanys name sounds nothing like the English equivalent, but the people are called Jermans, which he explained was due to Hitlers Aryan race agenda. Then I brought up how far Hitler went to make hi s country Aryan and what he did to the Jews. My brother asked me if Im Jewish, I paused for a moment then told him I am.

A few notes about that:
1) He asked me to write his name for him in Hebrew
2) He told me that they teach Hebrew at his college and he has Muslim friends who take it
3) Were still BFFs, seriously, were tight
4) We spent the next...well, it was a while talking about Jeish history, he asked me where my people come from, which for definitely is a complicated question

Salaam Auleikum, thats Arabic for Peace Out Yall
-Me

Monday, September 14, 2009

Bought Me Some Soap

Yesterday most of us new PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) went to the nearest town to buy some supplies.

I bought soap. All by my lonesome. Speaking only broken Arabic.

I also bought some candies for my host family (I meet them tomorrow), a towel, and some shampoo. I bought each item in a different store. The storefronts all had different things for sale, and apparently the soap guy didn’t have much soap in stock. After selling some to another PCV, he literally left his store (there was another guy working there, too) and walked me around all the other storefronts, trying to find me someone who sells soap. We eventually found some, and I bought it. I found the Shampoo guy myself. When I went to buy it, he asked me “Inta Muslami?” (are you Muslim?). I told him “La” (no), but it was weird being asked, and being asked if I’m Muslim as opposed to Christian or something (do I look Middle Eastern/Muslim?). I thought he gave me the wrong change after I told him I’m not, but another PCV explained that they make 10 Dirham coins (not bills), and that I definitely had it. When I bought a towel, I tried to do it in Darija (Moroccan Arabic), but the merchant switched to FusHa (standard Arabic), and then to English (didn’t know he spoke that). We had a good laugh about what actual language we were speaking.

We got back to our hotel, and I played the Moroccan version of Rummy with some Moroccan staff and some PCVs. You ever talk while playing a card game…but with some people doing it in FusHa, some in Darija, some in French, and some in English? It was a good time (and I won, which may have helped). After dinner, I hung out with some more PCVs `til the early morn.

Today we learned about transportation safety, some survival Arabic, which of us are going to what town for our host family (there are four other PCVs in my town, each of us has a different host family), and the names/members of our host family. My family consists of a widow and her five sons. I get my own room, electricity, running water, and there’s a bathroom (that bathroom part’s important). Not sure if I’ll have internet there, but I’m ready to go.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Some Things I've Learned

Since coming to Morocco a few days ago, I’ve been absorbing a whole mess of random (and some relevant) information. For the past few days, I’ve been staying in a hotel with all the other new Morocco PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and host-country staff, it’s amazing the things you’ll learn when you’re surrounded by very smart, very open/giving people. Here’s what I got so far:

The word for “And” in Farsi is “Va” like it is in Israel, though it’s “Wa” in the Arabic-speaking world.

The Darija (Moroccan Arabic) word for “Eight” is “Tlata” though it’s “Thlatha” in FusHa (standard Arabic) and “Shlosha” in Hebrew (maybe the pronunciation I’ve been taught for “Three” in Aramaic really is “Tlata” and not “Thlatha” like I had assumed).

Impromptu jam sessions involving flutes, violins, and ukuleles are ridiculously fun.

Nobody speaks FusHa “standard Arabic,” the type spoken in the Qur’an, not even in Saudi Arabia or Mecca. I’m told it’s like Latin to the Arabic-speaking world, but most books/newspapers/news shows are in FusHa, and everybody learns it in school/uses it to communicate with other Arab countries.

Without FusHa, Darija speakers can’t understand Middle-Eastern Arabs, nor can those in the Middle-East understand Moroccans.

At least one member of the Moroccan (as in from here) staff has Israeli friends on facebook.

The acting ambassador’s wife is Jewish, and has no problems in Morocco. The last name of the new ambassador (who’ll be sworn-in soon) Kaplan, he’s Jewish.

Those last two points make me feel a whole lot safer.

The sky is just as blue in any part of the world. Not that I’ve never been abroad before, but it’s always weird to me. For all I know, I could be on some sunny beach in the U.S. with a large Moroccan population. It doesn’t intrinsically feel like a new place, just a place. that’s weird, but nice.

Grasshoppers can fly in Morocco. They can’t fly well, though, as they’ll repeatedly crash into walls.

After sunset on Ramadan, this town gets crazy. I haven’t gone out at night, but from my window I can see the lights/hear the music…and it’s loud.

Learned a new finger-picking technique for the Ukulele.

Shwarma was introduced to Morocco in the past few years. As far as I can understand, Falafel, pita, and laffa are pretty unheard of here (except maybe in a Lebanese or Syrian restaurant…except for the laffa, nobody here seems to know what that is).

Pop-ups in America are pretty much all for sex. Pop-ups in Morocco don’t show girls (let alone girls showing some skin). They’re all in Arabic or French, but I don’t think they’re for sex/hook-ups/finding yourself a girl-or-boyfriend.

I’m sure there’s more, but that’s all I can think of right now.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Landed

Woke up too early (8:00ish), showered, got my complementary breakfast, and ate/talked with some other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). Printed some song chords I wanted to take, and eventually we all made our way onto the bus. We got to the airport about four hours early, so we all put our stuff down (security made us move our bags a few times as we cluttered up the place). Got some lunch, chilled some more, and eventually we were allowed to check in.

At the terminal, I met a Mexican Ashkenaz black-hatter. Yeah, didn’t quite know they existed but they do, apparently there are a lot of Jews in Mexico (and frummies too). On the flight, I ended up sitting next to a Liberian (that’s West-Africa, folks) missionary. We had a very long discussion about G-d, Liberia, Africa in general, Jews of Africa, tribalism, his mission, countries he’s been to, and Peace Corps (apparently he met some PCVs growing up). By-the-by, I initiated all the topics of conversation, he’s not the preachy type of missionary (he works mostly with community development).

Got to Morocco, and had to go through customs. I said “good morning” to the guy behind the desk in Arabic, and we ended up having a conversation. I understood maybe 30% of what he said (and he said it fast), but whenever I responded, he seemed to smile and would carry on the conversation from the point I just said, so I assume I was actually part of it.

Bus ride from the airport was long. We eventually made our way to the hotel. I’m in a small room with three other guys, and will be for five days. We had lunch, then a meeting (about the Peace Corps Morocco staff and some medical stuff).

Afterwards, we chilled some more. Made my way to the lounge where there was some (British?) movie on TV with Arabic subtitles. From what I saw, it seemed to be about a Holocaust survivor who finds the Nazi responsible for his family’s murder. Crazy theme for a Muslim country, maybe I’ve misjudged. A Jewish protagonist, vilified Nazis, and no Holocaust denial from that channel. And they had Arabic subtitles, so it’s not like the network just didn’t notice: someone had to go through translating it. Went to the beach with some other PCVs after a few minutes of that. We met a Moroccan surfer who went to college in L.A. He was nice. Morocco’s kind of rainy, I didn’t expect that.

Dinner (break-fast, it’s RamaDan after all)’s soon. Not much else. The other volunteers are all cool/nice. Yeah, that’s pretty much it.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Staging

Today was staging. From twelve `til sevenish, we were in the meeting room of a hotel. First was the ice breaker. We had to find twelve people, ask them their names/where they’re from/a question. The questions had to do with Peace Corps (such as what have you done to prepare? what do you think’ll be most challenging? When was Peace Corps founded?). After, we split into groups and had to draw representations of what we’re most anxious about and most excited about. Then we split into new groups and each group was given a potential problem we might face. The groups had to write a list of how to prevent and/or reduce the problem. We then split into new groups again and had to act out a scene demonstrating one of six Peace Corps policies (mostly dealing with social interactions and potential obstacles). Afterward, we went over the schedule for tomorrow (waking up, going to the airport, a little bit of what’s gonna happen once we land).

All in all, there are 63 of us, ranging from mid-twenties to senior citizens. About half are working in Youth Development, and half in Small Business Development. Splitting into groups was good, definitely helps with the name-learning, though I’ve still got a ways to go.

Then we went out to dinner. Peace Corps gave us money to cover it. I went with a few other volunteers to a pub, got a burger. Really, we all had a good time there. All the volunteers seem pretty cool, looks like we have a good group going to Morocco.

Monday, September 7, 2009

The Hours

Staging begins in roughly twelve hours. Staging is the final step before all Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) leave for our assigned country (Morocco for my group). We all meet at a hotel, go over a few things, and leave for our country one day later. Twelve hours, It’s soon, but I’m ready. Like I’ve said earlier, I’ve been preparing for this since my sophomore year of college.

More recently, though, I’ve started jogging more (figured there won’t be a gym in my village, so I should get in the habit of jogging for exercise).I’ve been reading other Peace Corps Morocco blogs for months now. I bought/read a few books on Morocco (the language, the culture, etc.). I finally bought that watch that’s also a Super Mario World LCD video game (it’s awesome, it’s like having a really cheap Gameboy on my wrist at all times). Bought a hard-case for my ukulele, and a couple of songbooks. Bought new shirts (haven’t done that in over 4 years, all my old ones were free and most say something Jewish on `em). And you remember the Sonic the Hedgehog comic where Sonic gets roboticized? No? Well, I do. My parents bought it for me before we went on a road trip years ago. I must have read it a million times over…but it was only part I of a two-part story. Well, I was in Barnes & Noble a few weeks ago, and they had this Sonic the Hedgehog comic book collection. Lo and behold, they had part II (and only part II) of that story as part of that collection. It wasn’t that good, but it’s nice to finally know what happens (they roboticize Knuckles, he beats up Sonic, then they both go through the roboticizer again and return to normal).

I feel like I’ve wrapped up most every loose end. I’ve visited/said goodbye to most of my friends in Chicago and Maryland (sorry to those I haven’t seen, my schedule’s been more than a little crazy as of late). I’ve caught up on just about every movie/show I’ve been meaning to watch. I’m not seeing anyone (yet again, crazy story there). I’ve got a whole lot of art supplies for my time in Morocco. I know some Arabic. I should be okay.

Then there’s the matter of leaving everyone/thing I know. People have asked me how I feel about that. Weird as it is, that just doesn’t factor into my mind as a problem. I think I’ve done it so many times that it just seems normal by now. I’ve lived in three different cities in my life, and went out-of-state to college (though my family kind of moved twenty minutes away from me after about a year). I’ve been on my own before (Uganda, working at an overnight camp in New Hampshire) in places where I knew no one. Really, this is all standard issue for me.

Am I nervous? No. I realize I’m going to a country that doesn’t really like Jews. Yeah, Morocco’s more tolerant than most Muslim countries…not hard, Jews left Muslim countries first chance they got once the state of Israel was established. Most Moroccan Jews left too. Still, a few thousand remain (way more Jews than any other Muslim country has left). I’ve read other blogs and talked to people who’ve been. There’s a lot of hatred out there for my people. Some Moroccans call others “Jews” as an insult, others unapologetically profess their hatred for Jews, still others are okay with or even fond of us. The king especially is tolerant of Jews, that goes a long way. Still, I’ve got to be careful not to let on that I’m Jewish. Not a fun thought, as I’m very proud of my heritage. Still, considering my reasons for going, it’s worth it.

Eleven hours left. Preparation’s finally over. Let the real work begin.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Prologue Part V: Summing up

With my paperwork finally done, I was good to go. I’d been planning on Peace Corps since my Sophomore year of college, so I’ve had a lot of time to prepare for it. Here are some things I did when I just wanted to join Peace Corps, not caring about what country:

I took courses in

  1. History of Sub-Saharan Africa since 1800
  2. Elements of Nutrition
  3. Music cultures of the world
  4. Cross Cultural Psychology
  5. U.S. Latina/o Studies
  6. Music Fundamentals

I also volunteered in Uganda (ended up teaching Hebrew, crazy story there). I volunteered with America Counts, an organization that goes to public schools and tutors math after school to children who could use some extra help there. Two of my three Letters of Recommendation for Peace Corps actually came out of that, one being my America Counts team leader and one from a member of Kulanu (the organization that sent me to Uganda). I took up the ukulele, but had never played an instrument before (learned via Youtube and the Music Fundamentals course). The ukulele’s portable, non-electronic (ideal for wherever I might be), and if you’ve never heard the great Mr. Jake Shimabukuro play While My Guitar Gently Weeps, please stop reading this blog, watch it on youtube, and then continue your reading experience.

After Albert (Amihai) was murdered in Iraq, I decided to go to an Arab country. The way I figure, it’s just been too much fighting over there. I’m hoping to do the opposite, hoping to learn Arabic and about Islam in order to work towards peace. Hopefully once I come back from Morocco, I’ll be able to use my newly acquired language/cultural skills to work towards peace. Idealistic? Sure. Naïve? Yeah, yeah it is. But I’m tired of the guns, I’m tired of the bombs, and I’m tired of all the Albert’s being murdered. So in memory of Albert (zekher l’Amihai), here’s what I’ve done.

I took courses in:

1. Arabic (two semesters’ worth)

2. Basic Helping Skills Psychology

3. Introduction to Counseling Psychology

4. Urban Studies: The Challenge of Cities

5. Teaching English to Non-English Speaking Natives

6. Psychology of Language (which I dropped, also a crazy story there, shouldn’t have been able to graduate on time without that course [it was a 400-level and I needed another one of those if I wanted my diploma])

I also went to Salat Al Juma’a (Arabic for “Prayers the Friday”) every Friday with the Muslim Student Association on campus. I studied some (though really not all too much) Quran with a Muslim friend. I worked two summers at an overnight camp (requested an older bunk my first summer there, Peace Corps apparently likes it better when you work with older kids). I tutored English to several grad-school students on campus (again, older kids). I worked at the gym on campus (they got me CPR certified, my recruiter told me that’d be a good idea). I volunteered at the University Health Center. And that was about it.

Apparently it worked, I’m going to Morocco. I’ll be working in Youth Development, which as far as I know entails teaching English, working at a Dar Shabab (youth center) during the school-year and an English camp over the summers.

For those who want to join the Peace Corps, here’s my advice: Make sure you really want to go. When I first heard about Peace Corps, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Despite my interview story, I’m told it’s really hard to get in. Go to a recruiting event, learn more about it (go to their website to learn where/when the closest one to you will be). Read up on what jobs they do in each region (as you do get to have a “preference” of region, though that’s no guarantee). And get some experience in the area you’ll most likely work in. I’m not saying volunteer abroad, but volunteer for sure. Get some experience: it shows Peace Corps you’re motivated, and gives you the chance to know if you really enjoy it. `Cause two years and three months in a foreign country, away from everything/one you know/love with few pople to speak English to, doing a job you don’t care for while working for an organization you’re not too crazy about…that’s gotta suck.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Prologue Part IV: More Forms

So, my electronic Peace Corps account says that I’ve been cleared by medical, there are no legal holds, and that I’ve been nominated to Morocco. Problem is, still haven’t been cleared by Dental. They sent back my x-rays and such with a note that said I have to get my wisdom teeth removed (which, to be fair, my dentists have been saying since I was in high school and which I don’t want to have done in my future Moroccan village anyway). So I get that done over spring break (definitely was not the kind of spring break you see on TV). I send my forms in with a note from my oral surgeon that the teeth are gone. They send back the forms, and I need to get a note from my normal dentist that it’s been done. I send that in and they send me a letter back. Apparently there’s a new problem: I have two baby teeth. That’s not a new problem, that’s not even new, they’ve been there since I was first teething. Apparently the X-ray shows some dark spots around the roots. Now, that could just be “reabsrption” (from what I understand, it means that the grown-up teeth next to the babies cleared away the roots in the areas where they popped up) or it could have been something horrible. So I go back to the dentist, and he’s just pissed at Peace Corps, and writes them a note saying my teeth are fine. He’s so annoyed with the ridiculosity of Peace Corps that he does this for free. Awesome for me, because my dental insurance ran out a day or two before.

No Idea what he wrote in that note, but Peace Corps dental finally accepted my teeth as okay.

Other things I’ve had to do for Peace Corps since: Send in my passport (I’ll be getting a special Peace Corps passport during “Staging”). This had me nervous. Not because I don’t trust Peace Corps, but because they took too long. Me living in Silver Spring, and Peace Corps national headquarters being in DC, I usually just take the metro (train) in, walk to their office, and hand over my documents to the mail-room guys. I figure why risk it getting lost in the mail, right? So I handed in my final (strongly worded?) dental note in one envelope and my passport (along with the special forms needed for my Peace Corps passport) in another. Dental cleared me within a few days, the passport guys...not so much. I got an email from them saying I haven’t sent in my passport yet (and it had to be done soon). But I handed it in along with my dental forms, and those got cleared already, and both dental and passport offices are located in the Peace Corps national headquarters.

That can’t be good. I kind of need my Passport. While there is a way to get a Peace Corps passport without having a valid normal one, it requires a bunch of forms. The forms were at home and I had just gone to New Hampshire to start camp counseloring for the next two months. Not enough time after camp to get those forms in (I got back from camp about 2 weeks before “Staging”). I’m screwed. Again. What is it with Peace Corps and needing so many forms from me? Luckily, a week or two later, they found my passport.

Afterwards, I had to fill out a few questionnaires about my in-country home stay preferences and language-learning style. Filled those out online. Hopefully Peace Corps has got all the forms they need from me, `cause “Staging” is only five days away.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Prologue Part III: The Long Wait

So that leads us to the five-ish months between my interview and when I finally got accepted. Yeah, it took that long.

I got home from the interview and had to correct my application essay. Apparently if there are 3 or more mistakes, they won’t accept you as an applicant for an English teacher. I had that many mistakes, but my recruiter told me to correct and send them to him (though he didn’t say what was wrong, so it’s not like he was completely bending the rules for me). I guess my interview went better than I thought (see previous blog post for why I’m still shocked).

Sent in my corrections and I guess they were good enough, because about two weeks later, my recruiter called and asked me if I’d be willing to go to certain countries

[editor’s note: I just noticed one of the essays said I spent summer 2008 in Uganda…that should be summer 2007…oops].

Now, Peace Corps can only tell you what region (Sub-Saharan Africa, South America, etc.) they’re sending you, but he did give me hints like “a French speaking country in Africa” so I had a little more of an idea than just “Africa” or something. I turned him down on every country for two or three weeks. After that was, like, two weeks of silence. I had no idea what was going on. Finally, he called me in the middle of class. After class I listened to the message asking me if I still wanted to go to a country in the Middle East (my top choice of region), apparently there were like only seven spots open. The way my recruiter explained it to me earlier, he gets weekly updates of what countries want what types of volunteers and how many they’re willing to take in at that time. Crazy excited, I called him back after, got the machine, left a message. He called me back in the middle of my next class. I ditched class for a few minutes to take that call, hoping no one would notice the phone vibrating in my pocket as I left the Psyc building. And like that, I was nominated for the Middle East/North Africa region. What that means is that the recruiter for the Middle East/North Africa region now had to approve of my application and okay my nomination.

As I said earlier, this took place over the course of weeks. I had been preparing for Peace Corps since my sophomore year of college (volunteering in Africa, taking Peace Corps-related classes, learning to play an instrument), there’s no way I would just lay around all passive and such during the final stretch. So what was I doing?

1) I was taking an Arabic class (trying to get nominated to the Middle East, after all) as well as a class called "Teaching English to Non-English Natives"

2) I went to Slat Al Juma’a (Friday prayers) every week with the Muslim Student Association

3) I set up a little Quran study group with a Muslim friend

4) I found a group on campus that tutors English to other (mostly foreign-born and at UMD for grad-school) students and volunteered.

5) I got a job at the university gym for one semester (where I also got CPR certified)

7) I volunteered at the university health center

8) I emailed my recruiter updates on how all this was going. Visibility is key, right?

Now, I had first heard about Peace Corps and what they do my sophomore year in a presentation when my recruiter spoke at the University of Maryland. I went to one or two more before I applied at the end of my Junior year. Now, as a Senior, I went to every single one (there’s a presentation at Maryland about once or twice a month). One time, I walked in a little late, and my recruiter chuckled and just game me this smile, then went back to his presentation. Towards the end it got to the point where when talking about the application process, my recruiter would turn to me and ask if there was anything he missed or what it was like for me to apply…and then I’d be put on the spot and try to look all knowledgeable in front of a group of strangers. Once or twice a potential applicant would ask for my email or if we could meet up to help him/her with the application process.

Meanwhile, I had to get all my medical/dental stuff done. Apparently my “primary physician,” as specified by my health insurance card, had retired. I had to find a new one, alert my healthcare people of the switch, and get some tests done. I also had to get my teeth examined (more on that later). I sent in all my medical/dental forms, kept going to presentations, volunteering with the English-tutoring thing, Friday prayers, Arabic, all my other classes, finding time to hang with friends and other people, etc.

Finally, I get a call from the Middle East/North Africa region. We’re talking months had passed here. I'd even applied for a few other jobs just in case I didn't get into Peace Corps. Still, I’d updated her with all my Peace Corps related goings-on once my normal recruiter told me that he nominated me to that region (reason being that he no longer had my file, she did now). She asked me if I was doing the English-tutoring thing. I told her I was, and started going into detail about it…caught my breath for a sec…and she told me I'd been nominated to the Middle East/North Africa region. A smile happened as I started to comprehend what she had just told me. It took a day or two for my Peace Corps handbooks/acceptance forms and such to come in the mail and tell me I was going to Morocco. The next day I called her back to confirm that I want in.

You'd think that's it. But wait, there's more...TO BE CONTINUED

Friday, August 28, 2009

Prologue Part II: My Peace Corps Interview

Here’s the story of my Peace Corps interview as best I can remember it (remember, that was nearly one full year ago)...

So it’s the day of my interview, and I had everything prepared the night beforehand. I’ve got a copy of my birth certificate/whatever else Peace Corps wanted, my clothes are all laid out, and my mom’s letting me borrow her car.

I wake up in the morning, shower, and get dressed. I’m wearing khakis, a t-shirt, and a button-down shirt over that. The t-shirt is from America Counts, an organization I volunteered at, helping tutor math after school to kids who could use the some help (be it that their parents work multiple jobs/have no time, they don’t speak too much English, or any other reason). It’s a really great organization, but I digress. Over that I’m wearing a very bright, green button-down shirt (the shirt is unbuttoned so you can clearly see the America Counts t-shirt underneath. This shirt was a present from my host family while I was volunteering in Uganda. I figured that if my interviewer commented on my choice of clothes, it would lead to a nice side-conversation about why I’m awesome/Peace Corps material.

I gather my documents that prove I exist, print out some mapquest directions, bring my ukulele along, and walk towards my mom’s car. Only problem is, the car’s missing. Frantic, I call my mom’s cell phone. I get the machine. I keep calling, then my brother Joey tells me Mom never answers her cell, try calling her blackberry. So I do, and of course she picks up on the first try. My mom went grocery shopping, she thought my interview was an hour later than it was. Great.

So she brings the car back, I rush outside and usurp it. For some reason the GPS isn’t working right. Not all the letters respond on the touch-screen, so I can’t actually enter the address of my regional Peace Corps office. Fine, whatever, that’s why I printed out the mapquest directions anyway. As I’m about to pull out, my dad’s car drives up the driveway. Within about 30 seconds, we switch GPSs, and I’m on my way.

As I’m driving, my recruiter calls my cell. I answer, he’s just confirming that I’m coming. I reply that I am, but that I may be a few minutes late (the estimated time I tell him is the time the GPS says I’ll arrive). Traffic’s horrible, I call him again and tell him I’ll be a little later than expected (trying to look responsible, here). I’m nervous, I’m late, I planned to leave early but my morning was crazy. Whatever, I find a parking space a few blocks from the Peace Corps office, put some money in the meter, and run.

As I’m standing there in the waiting room, my Peace Corps recruiter comes and walks me to his office where he’ll interview me. We pass by some woman, he stops, and introduces me as the guy whose application essay she liked. Sweet. We get to his office, and the interview’s going really well. I apologized for being late, he told me it’s no big deal. He did mention my clothes, though. Apparently a lot of people fail to take the Peace Corps interview seriously and come dressed in whatever (a suit is preferred). I explain my reasoning, he kind of smiles and tells me that’s fine. I’m relieved. We go over some facts on my application, you know, just to confirm that my address is right, what my name is, and that my social security number is...oh G-d. So, being a college student, I got really used to putting my Student ID on all my tests/papers/whatever. I may have kind of written my student ID in the "social security" box on my application. "No problem," my recruiter says with a smile, "that's why we do this." About an hour or longer into the interview we stop everything because I have to put some more money in the meter (this is so not my day). I come back, the interview’s going really well, and all I can think about is everything that’s gone wrong. Well, it turns out there’s some more. I forgot to get myself fingerprinted (Peace Corps sent me a card with spaces for all my fingerprints and I was supposed to get that done before the interview). No biggie, my recruiter walks me to a back room and we get it done there. As I’m being fingerprinted, he starts to talk to me about possible places I could serve in as a Peace Corps volunteer. Am I in? He hasn’t officially told me yet. But he’s already talking about countries I could go to. Weird.

As my recruiter’s a former Peace Corps volunteer in Thailand, he says goodbye to my in Thai. I return the favor by saying “welaba” and telling him that it’s goodbye in Luganda (the language my host family spoke in Uganda). Feeling pretty good on the drive back when I get a call. It’s my recruiter, I left my passport and other important documents in his office. Crap. He did keep a photocopy of them, though, and offered to mail the originals back if I was already too far. I drive back, pick up my stuff, and give him an awkward smile as I say goodbye to him in English.

Smooth

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Prologue part I: The Application

Hey, so I haven't actually gone to Morocco yet (still got about 2 weeks to go). Seeing as how I can't very well write about what's happened to me in Morocco yet, I'd like to start this blog with what happened before the start of my Peace Corps service.

Some people have asked me why I joined the Peace Corps in the first place. Others want to know why Morocco. Still, others have actually asked me for some advice about how to get in. I’m hopefully going to answer those and a few other questions in my first few blog posts. So let’s start somewhere close to the beginning.

When filling out my Peace Corps application, I had to answer two essay questions. Here’s what I wrote/submitted:


Essay #1

Cross-cultural Experience
Peace Corps Volunteers must be open to ideas and cultures different from their own and may need to modify their appearance or behavior appropriately. Give an example (between 250-500 words) of a significant experience that illustrates your ability to adapt in an unfamiliar environment. Please highlight the skills you used and the perspectives you gained. You may draw from experiences in your work, school, or community in the U.S. or abroad. Please list the date(s) of your experience.



Honestly, I think that since coming to college, my life qualifies as a cross-cultural experience. I was a nice Jewish boy with a Jewish day-school background, and so were almost of my friends. I lived a pretty sheltered life. Now I have Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, and atheist friends. I’ve sat down to lunch with the homeless and listened to their lives’ stories. I’ve prayed alongside the University of Maryland’s Muslim community, and learned some fundamentals of Islam from them. After a year of studying Bible with a Korean missionary, I went with her family to their church. I’ve helped edit a Nigerian man’s book, I’m involved with several charity organizations; and am very proud of being a founder of one involving sending Ugandan refugees to vocational school. Together with the rest of America Counts, I’ve tutored math to minority children here in the U.S. My life has become a cross-cultural experience.
Still, if I had to choose one cross-cultural experience, it would have to be my time in Africa. I spent the best part of summer 2008 in a small Jewish village in Uganda. Uganda is home to roughly 800 natives whose great-grandparents, without ever having met a Jew, decided to join the tribe. It was Africa, it was a community in which my parents would grudgingly let me volunteer, I had to go.
I met with the headmaster of the primary school my first night there. During our conversation, he casually mentioned “So, you will be teaching Hebrew.” Shocked to learn I would not be teaching my native English, my next words were something along the lines of “Okay…can I start tomorrow?”
Hebrew had been taught by the headmaster, who taught himself to read and write the language. My first day, he walked me to our first class, and then just left me. He left me with 5 grades to teach. I volunteered myself to the high school later, totaling seven classes. I had never really taught, and did not know the level of proficiency of any of the classes. Their resources were fundamentally lacking, there were certainly not enough “Hebrew Primers” to go around.
So I improvised. I tested the classes on the Hebrew letters, vowels, and words, discovering where each class was. From there, I created my own lesson plans. I found a beach ball, and used it to teach words such as “you,” “me,” “they,” “have,” “the,” “ball” “under,” “on,” “table,” “outside,” “tree,” etc. One week in, the students were starting to build simple sentences. But my time was limited. So every day after class, I had each student write one word he or she wished to learn. I incorporated these words into my lessons. I requested a notebook from the headmaster, and in it wrote lesson plans and the students’ requested vocabulary words, so that he could continue to teach not just reading and writing, but comprehension of a relevant vocabulary once I left.




Essay #2

Motivation Statement
Peace Corps service presents major physical, emotional, and intellectual challenges. You have provided information on how you qualify for Peace Corps service elsewhere in the application. In the space below, please provide a statement (between 250-500 words) that includes:

1) Your reasons for wanting to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer; and
2) How these reasons are related to your past experiences and life goals.


It seems stupid now, the silly fantasy of a naive little boy. I always wanted to be a superhero, always wanted to save the world. I saw Peace Corps as my chance, work in a developing country for two years, do my part, and that would be it. So, like Batman before me, I started to train. I’ve tried to learn everything about everything. I took courses in creative writing, drawing, nutrition, kinesiology, African history, Latino history, world music, music theory, and teaching. I joined America Counts last year and was a math tutor for minority students, I joined the campus Wushu club and learned martial arts, I volunteered in Africa, and took up a musical instrument. That was the plan, spend college preparing for my time in the Peace Corps, for my big adventure as a hero, as part of a larger group of heroes, and spend two years saving the world. But the plan, it lacked a fundamental understanding of what makes a hero.
It’s cliché, you know? To be a hero, Spider-Man had to lose his Uncle Ben, Batman had to lose both his parents, Superman lost his entire planet. I never understood, not until I lost Albert. He was one of my best friends, he couldn’t afford college, he wanted to be a doctor, so he joined the army and became a medic. All he wanted to do was laugh, to live life, he was never a kind stranger but a lifelong friend to everyone he met. He was a medic, all he did in Iraq was save lives. And they took his life, we lost Albert when his vehicle was hit by an “improvised explosive device.”
I get it now, it’s not some fun adventure, it’s not a game, the stakes are real. If you’re going to save the world, if you’re truly going to make it a better place, you need to keep working at it. Saving the world doesn’t end after a two-year stint as a volunteer. I get it. I finally understand why Superman calls it the “Never ending battle.” But I’m going to argue that. For all his battles, Superman’s only made more enemies, hell-bent on killing him, threatening his city to do so. To battle, to fight, only creates more fighting, more intense fighting. It creates wars, and it kills people like Albert Bitton.
It’s a struggle, a never ending struggle. We all need to talk, to argue, to conquer our differences with dialogue, not weapons. And I will spend the rest of my life struggling, struggling until the fighting ends. I’ve always wanted to be a superhero, so it’s time I stop training and start doing. So let my struggle begin, the never ending struggle, it starts, not ends, with Peace Corps.