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| This final page is just a collection of emails and journal entires (only 4 of the really good ones) taken over my two years as a Volunteer. Please feel free to email me if you have questions about the Peace Corps and/or Morocco. |
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| HUNGRY |
| Oct 15, 1998 |
| Recently I was invited to visit the beautiful High Atlas Mountains outside of Marrakech, Morocco. Reluctantly, I returned the train ticket that would have enabled me to head home to Taza and wandered over to the taxi station with my friend Cecily. As we swerved through the hairpin turns at 60 mph I was awestruck at the beauty of the majestic countryside. Huge, jagged mountains rose above us like the razor-sharp teeth of a Great White Shark. Meanwhile the sounds of the local river erupted through the valley, echoing off the roughly cut canyon walls. It was here in the Ourika Valley where Cecily lived and our adventure would begin. |
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| As the sun brought forth a new day, we headed into the mouth of the great beast known as the High Atlas. Maneuvering up sheer cliff walls we encountered the first of several waterfalls. I stood silently in wonder as the lifeblood of the valley below carved through the mountain strata much as it had for the last millennia. How did this valley appear as the last waves of ancient ocean receded, leaving a path for snow melt and spring water to continue on its own incredible journey? As we moved on I was treated to a half dozen more of these cascades-each one more spectacular than the last. |
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| When we reached the top of the pass I stood at the base of a thirty-foot waterfall and peered down the valley to see lush, emerald green vegetation which this eternal waterway had created. Walnut trees stood silently as their branches stretched out toward the sky for warming sunlight. Their roots traveled through the cracks in the bedrock in search of precious water from which to nourish them. Standing there quietly, my mind tucked all the hardships of the last few months- leaving home, meeting new people, learning a new language-into some far away nook of my conscious. I was clear-headed for the first time since my arrival in Morocco. Like those mighty walnut trees, I had planted myself in Morocco and my roots had finally burrowed through the cracks to find nourishments in new friendships, new experiences, and the realization of dreams. In essence, I was feeding my soul. |
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| Upon entering our overnight campsite I was as excited as a five year old child with a handful of Peanut M&M's. My mind floated freely as if I were flying through the clouds above when-BOOM! Unfortunately the clear-headed nirvana I was experiencing was interrupted as the rocks below my feet shifted. I was thrown into a large boulder with only my backpack preventing my head from bouncing off the mammoth piece of granite. |
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| Pain shot through my body and my neurological pathways were filled with messages of terror as my brain tried to decipher the encrypted code of the last few seconds. I was over 9,000 feet up a mountain and a good three-hour hike from the town at its base. There was no way I would be able to make it back down the near vertical cliff walls. It appeared as though the High Atlas had swallowed another victim. Nothing short of Marina, our medical officer, in a helicopter could be my savior if I was severely injured. Slowly the events came into order as my brain did a self-diagnostic and I realized that nothing had been seriously injured. With Cecily helping me to my feet, we thanked the appropriate powers-that-be and gave a chuckle at the prospect of being airlifted out of the mountains. |
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| Dropping our packs at our campsite we began to gather wood for our campfire. Acting like squirrels in the hunt for fallen walnuts, we scoured the terraces for some firewood that would enable us to eat a warm meal. Collecting a large bundle, we built a fire but waited to ignite the wood. Instead we sat quietly as night slowly descended on our piece of Morocco. Wispy cirrus clouds floated above the mountains, as shepherds hurried their flocks. We relaxed there on our terrace watching the sky put on an incredible light show. The clouds acted as the canvas while the sun played the part of the eccentric painter. It dabbed its brush and painted the sky with colors only nature can produce. Like watching the mood of a two year old child, the sky changed from fiery and energetic hues of red, yellow, and orange to the mellow and soothing flavors of indigo, purple, and lavender. Soon the colors faded and we were given the deep blue night sky, which was interrupted only be the stars-the bright halos of celestial angels. At that moment, it appeared as though God had thrown silver glitter to the sky for those of us who are never too old to play connect-the-dots. We complied and traced shapes out of the stars much as our ancestors did for thousands of years before. |
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| Soon the distinct smell of a campfire filled the air and we prepared our meal. My host and I cut veggies, potatoes, and slowly boiled some water. After adding pasta, spices, and a flour rue, we threw in some cheese and our watered down stew became a creamy dish. As the first few mouthfuls continued on its travels down toward my empty stomach, I was reminded at how good this meal really was. Not only did this meal taste great, but also I was able to share it with a great friend in a beautiful place. |
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| After dinner, Cecily and I sat up half the night under the night's masterpiece trading stories about home, Peace Corps' gossip (always a favorite activity), and anything else we could think about. During this time the fingers of the flames continued to reach out into the cool night air. Finally the fire`s crackling faded and we were left in silence. |
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| As I fell asleep under the stars that night I laughed when I relived the events of the last two days. I remembered how reluctant I was to accept my host`s invitation, but was so thankful that she wouldn`t take "NO!" for an answer. I thought about all the friendships I had formed, new and old, and all the experiences shared with all those people. I was reminded that it is time spent with friends which is important. Whether it is for an hour or a week, it is time to relax and forget about the world around us. To share those experiences with some one whose company you enjoy will only enhance it. My friend had said something earlier in the day and it really stuck in my head. It describes how every opportunity in life needs to be taken and swallowed whole. Remember, this place is ours for a little while. So take those invitations, otherwise you are simply starving your mind, spirit, and soul. |
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| "An atom at large in the biota is too free to know freedom; an atom back in the sea has forgotten it. For every atom lost to the sea, the prairie pulls another out of the decaying rocks. The only certain truth is that its creatures must suck hard, live fast, and die often, lest it's losses exceed its gains." |
| -Aldo Leopold |
| A Sand County Almanac |
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| One-Year Ago |
| June 26, 1999 |
| One year ago today I began my 27-month commitment to The US Peace Corps. One year ago today I woke up in a different continent on the other side of the world. One year ago today I left behind great friends, lost loves, family, and so much more. But one year ago today I opened the door to a whole new world unknown to me in the comforts of the Good Ole' USA. So have I learned anything in this past year? Has this past year changed my life? And what other life altering experiences have I had that have warped my mind into so many different dimensions? |
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| When people ask me, "Do you like being in the Peace Corps?” a thousand different responses come into my mind. Some of you have heard my rambling on the subject, others haven't (and should probably consider themselves lucky), but I am at that exact moment given a choice: Do I talk about the inner-squabbling of the bureaucracy of Peace Corps (remember it is the US gov't!); do I talk about the difficulty in leaving everything behind; do I mention the hell it can be sometimes when I have absolutely NOTHING to do for days; or do I talk about all those things that can make this such a difficult time? I choose none of the above! Why talk about all those negative things that may happen on any day anywhere in the world. Instead I look at this entire situation and all the joy it has brought me. This little story really says it all. Read on and enjoy! |
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| A group of tourists were moving through FES while I was there the other weekend and I caught myself just staring at them in the same manner as many of the Moroccans do. They were walking around with their cameras and money belts clinched tightly to their sides, staring amazingly at the ancient Arab city of Fes. There they were, like a group of six year olds let go in FAO Schwartz - amazed, simply amazed. When they looked lost and in need of some kind of guidance I reluctantly offered to translate for them. Over the past year I have changed from the gawking tourist to the out-of-place local/foreigner. This group of mid-50 year olds stood in front of me and one man said, "It must be so incredible to live here." It was then that all the trouble of the last year washed off my back. Here I was, living in Morocco, talking amongst her peoples in their tongue - this place is my home for these two years: not my vacation. |
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| It has all come to make sense a little more now. This is just another part of my life. I will take these experiences and form opinions, change attitudes, and begin to really see things in a different way. Not in a better way then all of my friends, but just in a different way. We all have moved on in our lives, some of us more recently than others, some of us more reluctantly than others, but we all have the opportunity to move around. People sometimes look at me as though I am some martyr for "sacrificing so much", sacrificing some of those amenities we in America EXPECT with life. Maybe, but I haven't sacrificed anything. I have been stealing from a culture thousands of years old. I have been absorbing every experience I can. |
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| So then have I learned anything from this past year? Not any more than any of you out there. I just happen to be doing it somewhere else. Everyday we can learn a thing about ourselves, sometimes we just fall asleep in this classroom of the world, but there is always a chance for a re-test. Peace Corps has just given me the opportunity to study for 27 months. I miss you all everyday and think of all the times we have shared together and all the good times still ahead. Enjoy yourselves and don't forget to laugh at yourself sometimes-the world has enough serious people in it. |
| CHRISTIAN |
| June 26, 1999 |
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| The life of a Peace Corps Morocco Parks, Wildlife and Environmental Education Volunteer in Tazekka National Park - Nov 1999 |
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| "Salaam. Labas. Sb'hare, labas? Hum Du'lah." |
| (Hello. How are you? Good Morning. How are you? |
| Thanks be to God.) |
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| "Labas Karim. Friouato?" |
| (How are you, Karim? Where are you going?) |
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| "La, Bab Bou Idir." |
| (There, Bab Bou Idir) |
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| "Wah Ha, Y'allah." |
| (OK. Let's go) |
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| And so at seven in the morning I hop into a Grand Taxi, pay the mol-taxi my fare of 10 Dirhams and wait for 20 minutes or so until we begin our ascent into the mountains surrounding the small city of Taza. For me this is an above-average day because I will begetting the opportunity to do what I love to do -hike through the Cedar forests of Jbel Tazekka. An added bonus is the fact that I get to do it as a part of my job while working with the Department of Water and Forests. |
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| I am currently serving as a Parks, Wildlife, &Environmental Educator (PWEE) Volunteer in the Tazekka National Park. My title obviously has many implications as to what I may be working on in the Park, but in fact don't let the title fool you. As many Volunteers will tell you, our titles can be deceiving, because in fact we can work on a variety of projects that can cover a vast area of subject fields. Currently I am involved in continuing the development of the Park's hiking trails. |
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| Slowly, the struggling taxi climbs over the first of the steep ridges on its way to Bab Bou Idir. Rising from about 800 meters in Taza to over 1980 meters, Jbel Tazekka towers over the area. After about an hour of traveling around hairpin turns on a one-lane highway, we arrive at Bab Bou Idir. Built by the French and used as a summer camp by the French colonialists and French Nuns, Bab Bou Idir continues to be the central gathering area for the surrounding valleys. It is here that I exit my taxi and begin to trek up the road towards the towering landmark that is Jbel Tazekka. |
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| Luckily, I flag down a camion that is on its way towards one of the several villages located deep inside the Park. Graciously I squeeze into the already jam-packed camion and struggle to breathe as we screech around curves, the force smashes the weight of the other three occupants against my compressed diaphragm. But hey, it's a lot better than walking the6 km. up to the trailhead. |
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| "Shukran sahabee, laiown." |
| (Thanks, friend. God be with you) |
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| "Laiowm, Karim." |
| (God be with you, Karim) |
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| Solitude. Silence. These two words can describe Peace Corps to many Volunteers, and they say a lot about how service itself can feel sometimes. But today I have sought out these exact circumstances. Today solitude and silence will be the scaffolding that I will use to slowly inch up this difficult trail and reach the peak of Tazekka. Tazekka may not reach the heights of some of its cousins outside of Marrakech, but it is still a tall reminder of how little we can be sometimes. With this in mind I begin my hike and mark the entrance of the trail with a quick pass of the fluorescent spray paint. Now anyone who wishes can follow me and enjoy these beautiful woods. Continuing throughout the day, I check the trail for trash, mark confusing turns, clean debris out of the way, and generally make the trail just a little bit better than before. But it isn't always as nice as this, because villagers sometimes don't like the fact that the old goat trail now has some weird paint marks. Talking with them, it seems that they do not fully understand why someone would want to 'walk around without any goats'. Vandalism is constant and trash is reoccurring, but in the end everyone seems to pitch in and leave the trail markers alone. But then again, what could be more fun than throwing rocks at a sign when you are 12 years old and watch sheep all day? After four hours on the trail, I reach the summit of Jbel Tazekka. Cedars as wide as a car tower over me. Their majestic limbs reach out, trying to cover the head of this mountain. Halfway finished, I stop to relax under the 'whoosh, whoosh' of the wind blowing through the trees. The only thing I don't like about Tazekka is the small radio tower on top of it. However, there is a work crew that watches over the tower. There are actually two crews; they rotate on one-week intervals. I approach the gate and exchange the usual round of pleasantries and learn that they remember some of the previous Volunteers. While we share stories and tea, I convince them to let me climb up the radio tower. Reluctantly, they agree but only up to the first platform. Perfect! It's about 10meters clear of the treetops. |
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| Fes. I can see Fes...a city that is over 100 km away. I have never seen anything like this incredible, unbelievable view. From this vantage point, I can seethe entire Taza Gap, the same pass through which the Arabs passed en route to the Atlantic over 1000years ago. I take it all in again: the silent solitude on top of that mountain. I smile and begin my descent from the radio tower. It is time to resume doing the job I have come here to do. Half the trail still remains to be marked and the sun is setting fast. |
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| For me this trail is an example of what Peace Corps can be all about. You struggle through winding and seemingly endless paths, some of which abruptly dead-end, causing you to turn back. At times all you want to do is stop and you look for the quickest way out of your current situation. But in the end when you reach the zenith and take that deep breath, breathing in the air of confidence once again, you begin to look around and see just how many little accomplishments it took to get you where you stand. That new point of view is what makes the experience so worthwhile... so enjoyable, so beautiful, and so memorable. |
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| I have seven more trails to mark, and at least as many more times to enjoy the view. |
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| LOOKING BACK WHILE WALKING FORWARD |
| April 26, 2000 |
| As most of you know I will be leaving my post in the Peace Corps in the coming week. I just wanted to thank all of you who have sent cards, email, Kool-Aid packets, and tons of other things throughout our two years here. And that is how I look at these past two years - as OURS. Throughout this time I have tried to include all of you in the frustrations, joys, accomplishments, and failures over these last two years. |
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| When I step off that plane and finally arrive back in the US I will be concluding only 2/3rds of our goals as Peace Corps Volunteers. The 1st goal is to help bring appropriate technology to our Host Country Nationals. The 2nd is to bring a little American culture into the lives of Moroccans to create better understanding of America. But the 3rd will (and has) include all of you. The 3rd goal is to bring a piece of Morocco back to America in order to foster a better understanding of Moroccan culture in the USA. So when I get home, through pictures, stories, and discussions will we work together to complete all of the goals set out when Peace Corps was created by John F. Kennedy over 35 years ago. |
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| Over time, in a place like this, PCVs begin to build a shell to the constant harassment, frustrations, and failures. It makes you hard. It makes you lose sight of the good things sometimes. But this doesn`t just happen here. It can happen in the US as well. As my time has been coming to an end I have begun to mentally pull back. I have been able to look beyond the things that didn`t work or didn`t go the way I thought they would. Instead I have been able to see the good things about my time here. I have made friends here whom I will have a bond with for the rest of my life. And although I have known many of you for a longer that any of my fellow PCVs, they hold a special place in my life. Because no matter how descriptive I am or how many pictures I show you, only they will ever understand what this experience has really been like. |
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| Over the last two years I have learned more about myself and my place in this world than I ever thought possible. One of the great things about being a PCV is that you are given more times than you ever know what to do with. For some this is burden. In the US we are task-oriented animals and time is always used. But here time is just that - TIME. It comes and goes and many days go and on and on and on… However, there are days in which you slowly examine your life up to that moment in time. You discover things about your lifestyle, your personality, your attitude, basically you discover YOU! And many times there may be things you have done which you are not very proud of and many times you remember those times when you were at your best. But the best thing is that you realize that we have so much TIME. We have TIME to do what ever we want. To change those things we don`t like about ourselves and to increase those behaviors, which we feel, make us a better person. No one has ever said it is easy. Life shouldn`t be, otherwise it wouldn`t be fun! |
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| Now as I close this chapter of my life I am taking steps forward, while looking back. I see life differently now. I hope I can share all these experiences, thoughts, and simple little things with all of you in the future. But remember, we have TIME. Thank you all again for all your wonderful support over these last two years. I could not have done it with out you. |
| -CHRISTIAN |
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| I hoped you enjoyed all the pictures and the stories. Have a great day and thanks for checking this site out. |
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