Pants

Today, as I washed my pants I thought about the meaning in them. The clothes I wear here in Morocco will most likely stay here after I leave, given to friends or family as a gift, being that clothes are a luxury that many cannot afford to purchase new in this subsistence-level community. I brought clothes with which I was willing to part, knowing that I could only bring a limited supply and would not spend much of my modest monthly Peace Corps living allowance on them.

My cargo pants, that I was hand washing in a small basin in my red rock, Berber-built house, have now become a pair I wear almost exclusively here in the village. I leave my blue jeans, which were purchased here in Morocco, for use when I am in Ouarzazate and cities beyond. My clothes, in a way, have become a means to mentally place myself in my environment. When in the village I dress and act conservatively, attempting to play my role as a Peace Corps Volunteer. When out and about in a larger city for work or travel, I often wear my cleaner, newer clothes when I can act more western and try to blend in with the tourists.

These olive-oil-stained pair of pants are beginning to thin from the frequent hand washing. But it is this that reminds me of my home here, the frequent sugary-mint tea breaks served with homemade bread and olive oil, the daily hard labor of men and particularly, women--washing, cleaning, preparing the fields, collecting wood for cooking and fodder for livestock, taking care of children, and the list goes on.

These pants, fraying at the ends, remind me that I do still seperate myself when in a larger city, avoiding the instantaneous judgement if I were to wear my worn-out, stained pair of pants. What would I be viewed as? It is crazy to think that after almost two years here I still think in terms of my outer appearance. I have gained a greater love for the inner, but my western influence is so ingrained, 21 years of it, that I still resort back to the superficial. But, I can see that a difference or change has allowed me to recognize more readily that outside appearance is such a small part of a person. I have come to realize that what we carry inside is what will connect me to my hopeful love, one day.

These pants, with buttons that have been sewed back on several times, also help me to remember how much I do enjoy being able to wear clean clothes and experience a little western culture from time to time, something that is a large part of who I am. I enjoy being able to look and feel beautiful.

Additionally, these pants remind me of the book, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and how I read it--a book genearlly intended for young girls. A thought that reminds me that as a Volunteer I have had much time to read and reflect. This has lead the way to a library list that I may not normally acquire back home.

Most importantly, these pants, with a zipper that no longer fully zips, help me remember how grateful I am for this experience, for all that I have at home and here in my second home, and for family and friends.

It seems as though daily routines often prove to be great chances for reflection and I am grateful for this life in order to help me to be more understanding, sensitive, caring, and honest. It amazes me that this pair of pants opens up such a torrent of words, but it is a mere reflection of the thoughts gained in the last 20 months.


November 6, 2006