As of late, life has entailed reading, writing and more reading and writing. While I am enjoying my studies--especially being able to realize the interdisciplinary nature of so many of the nation's and world's great challenges--I am eager to begin putting into practice that which I have learned. I believe that I will never stop learning, and therefore, I see these final few months as an intense learning opportunity but certainly not the end of the road for knowledge acquisition. Every opportunity provides an opportunity to gain new insight and understanding.
Thus, as I write diligently in order to meet a self-imposed thesis deadline or explore new ideas about how to improve transparency so as to allow the market to create greater incentives for energy conservation, I am reminded that these ideas will only continue to grow following the spring semester. In searching for job opportunities following graduation in May, I hope to be guided by the idea that I must look for a position that allows my creative potential to flourish while working towards empowering people to help themselves. And, of course, I search for a job that will financially allow me to repay the growing amount of student debt that now hangs over my social security number.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Ferocity of Falsehoods
Perhaps the most disheartening phenomenon of my time in Liberia thus far has been the prevalence of dishonesty. I have come to expect that most of the stories I hear on a daily basis contain some element of half-truth. While this proves a bit annoying for me as I try to get the true story, it seems that many Liberians inhibit their own potential and the potential of their fellow citizens to be fully reached largely as a result of this seeming omnipresent societal acceptance of lies.
While this may seem an inappropriate topic to address while I attempt to advocate for Liberians, in reality this culture of half-truths has limited Liberia’s potential. I believe this culture, therefore, limits potential investments, partnerships and development as Liberians and foreigners alike become disenfranchised with the inability to trust one another. Having once been taken aback by the natural beauty and hospitality shown to me by my Liberian friends, I have now begun to question the future of development here. I assume I am not the only one.
Just the other day, my Liberian friends and I were discussing how we had to leave an event separately after we could not locate one of my Liberian friends who we came to the event with. As we reflected upon the incident, the two main actors in the story were telling two completely different versions of the night. One of them was obviously lying, but neither would admit it was him/her. While this lie did not directly harm anyone, it exemplified the stubbornness that the lying creates.
When I first arrived in Monrovia, I was told that the guesthouse where I was staying would have electricity installed the following day. Being that I arrived on a Saturday, I was skeptical of the thought that an electrician would work on a Sunday. In fact, electricity did not get installed for about another month. Again, I did not expect that the electricity would come when promised, but the fact that I was greeted by a great falsehood certainly clouded my normally optimistic attitude.
A Liberian friend claims that a lot of the lying that is done between her denizens and foreigners takes place because the Liberians are often trying to make up for what they see as shortcomings between more affluent foreigners and themselves. Having been told many lies throughout my few weeks here, it is now easier to identify when I think I am being lied to. It seems as though Liberians believe they are good at covering up the truth, but from what I have learned from other foreigners, we are all pretty keen on the lies and have come quite disheartened by their prevalence.
Of course there are exceptions and I do not intend to stereotype all Liberians as liars but the extent to which I have been lied to and have seen friends caught in a web of lies, it seems the majority of Liberians get easily caught up in the mishmash.
My hope is that this seeming normalcy of lying, between family members, among friends and in the workplace, can begin to change. Indeed, I believe that it must if Liberia is to build its capacity to develop. Hopefully at least a few Liberians can begin to think about a means of shifting the norm away from falsehoods and towards the truth, even though, at times, it may hurt a little bit.
While this may seem an inappropriate topic to address while I attempt to advocate for Liberians, in reality this culture of half-truths has limited Liberia’s potential. I believe this culture, therefore, limits potential investments, partnerships and development as Liberians and foreigners alike become disenfranchised with the inability to trust one another. Having once been taken aback by the natural beauty and hospitality shown to me by my Liberian friends, I have now begun to question the future of development here. I assume I am not the only one.
Just the other day, my Liberian friends and I were discussing how we had to leave an event separately after we could not locate one of my Liberian friends who we came to the event with. As we reflected upon the incident, the two main actors in the story were telling two completely different versions of the night. One of them was obviously lying, but neither would admit it was him/her. While this lie did not directly harm anyone, it exemplified the stubbornness that the lying creates.
When I first arrived in Monrovia, I was told that the guesthouse where I was staying would have electricity installed the following day. Being that I arrived on a Saturday, I was skeptical of the thought that an electrician would work on a Sunday. In fact, electricity did not get installed for about another month. Again, I did not expect that the electricity would come when promised, but the fact that I was greeted by a great falsehood certainly clouded my normally optimistic attitude.
A Liberian friend claims that a lot of the lying that is done between her denizens and foreigners takes place because the Liberians are often trying to make up for what they see as shortcomings between more affluent foreigners and themselves. Having been told many lies throughout my few weeks here, it is now easier to identify when I think I am being lied to. It seems as though Liberians believe they are good at covering up the truth, but from what I have learned from other foreigners, we are all pretty keen on the lies and have come quite disheartened by their prevalence.
Of course there are exceptions and I do not intend to stereotype all Liberians as liars but the extent to which I have been lied to and have seen friends caught in a web of lies, it seems the majority of Liberians get easily caught up in the mishmash.
My hope is that this seeming normalcy of lying, between family members, among friends and in the workplace, can begin to change. Indeed, I believe that it must if Liberia is to build its capacity to develop. Hopefully at least a few Liberians can begin to think about a means of shifting the norm away from falsehoods and towards the truth, even though, at times, it may hurt a little bit.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Domestic Drama
Sunday, July 19, 2009
On this day, I learned of a disheartening situation that I became embroiled in. My female friend Karpo informed me that her friend was beaten by her husband because he believed she was cheating on him with me.
Apparently, this situation had been developing since I initially met this woman upon my arrival in Liberia. My host brother Joscee is a close friend with Karpo. Karpo is friends with this Minister’s wife—the woman who was allegedly sleeping around.
My initial meeting with this minister’s wife was quite brief. I met Karpo, her sister in-law Cynthia and this woman within my first 48 hours of being in Monrovia. I do not specifically recall our interaction but I believe it was limited to exchanging a few pleasantries and discussing briefly my purpose for being in Liberia.
Subsequent interactions with this woman resumed only last week as I was invited to a graduation party that was hosted by Karpo’s brother and sister in-law. This party was held at the minister’s house since they rent from him and he has a larger yard with which to entertain. I spent my day with Karpo, Joscee and others.
Then, this weekend, I spent an hour or two with Karpo, Cynthia and the minister’s wife. This time we were sitting outside the house chatting. I do not recall having any conversation with the minister’s wife. Anyway, she and her husband were to leave for a party later in the evening. Apparently, after they left, he accused her of cheating with me.
What is strange is that the minister never introduced himself to me and I still do not yet know his name or his wife’s. So the whole situation was perpetuated on gossip and speculation. Apparently, this may have been the very thing that caused the man to believe his concocted version of events. Being that we were never introduced and yet I continued to visit the home, often drinking with his wife and her friends, he came to believe that I must have had ill intentions and was acting on them.
Since this time, I have come to learn that people in the neighborhood are skeptical of spending too much time around this man’s house for the fear of being seen as interested in his wife or being assumed of wanting to take advantage of him/his family. I can only conclude that there are existing problems within the marriage and a foreigner’s presence has provided an impetus for a conflict.
I think the most important lesson I have learned from this drama is that skin color is an incredibly powerful tool that can be used to one’s benefit or demise, even without much force or intent. Here, white skin seems to immediately purport power, money and control. It has become clear that being white can be a security concern in and of itself.
It is disheartening that this jealousy has caused such disrespect. The benefits that we could achieve by working together and building a mutual understanding have been lost before they were ever built.
In addition to the personal discomfort and anger this has caused, it also exemplifies the challenge domestic rights still face in Liberia. When a minister’s wife is hit for allegedly cheating on her husband despite no real evidence to support the claim, and no one is concerned about him having hit her, it is clear that there are some cultural values that are astray. I can only hope that President Sirleaf’s attempts to address these issues are embraced.
And today, as I rode in a taxi to work, I saw a sticker that sums it all up: “Real Men Don’t Abuse Women.”
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Musings from Liberia
Random musings which I find interesting (you may disagree)
Mice. While I realize they are probably just as scared of me as I of them, nonetheless, whenever I see one, I nearly scream. Their presence in my Liberian bedroom was initially apparent as I saw their droppings all over the room. Now, they have either multiplied quickly or have become much more brave as they scurry about in the evening as I write and reflect. If only a cat could be found. But that might open a whole other box of worms, almost quite literally, or fleas or other insects that I do not need crawling around in my bed with me at night.
500 ml bags of water. I have never been a big fan of plastic. This aversion stems in large part to the core material in plastics—that of petroleum. I prefer to avoid plastic jugs instead opting for the glass alternative. Taking my own bags to the supermarket is as much anenvironmental statement for me as it is a fight against big oil. Anyway, it seems I will have a difficult time escaping the material here in Liberia as my source of life is packaged in it. It appears West African countries have become big fans of 500ml plastic bags of water which can be easily opened with your teeth in order to allow for a quick quenching of your thirst. I have enjoyed a great many of these bags and have now resigned myself to buying large sacks of them to keep a constant supply of potable water available which seems better than using waterpurification tablets on a continuous basis.
Water leaks. Yes, while plastic bags can be great, as is witnessed when plastic bags have too much weight or get caught on anything sharp, they rip. I am not sure how the bag sprung a leak (though the first paragraph may signal a culprit) but I awoke one morning this week to find a water trail on the floor and my backpack drenched. My original idea of prepping my bag for work the evening before by placing two bags of water on the side seems to be misguided. While my computer survived the inundation (thanks in no small part to the carrying case Jay lent me) my papers had to be air dried at work in order to avoid taking on the mildewy odor that is quite common in this humid climate.
White man. I find it quite obvious that my skin color is white and in fact have never really questioned it. Lest I be in need of reassurance of my skin color, I find that anytime I am out in public, children and adults alike enjoy calling out “White man”, as if it were my name. While I became accustomed to “aramuie” in Morocco—which literally means Roman—I did not usually find children chanting to the extent that they do here. When I first encountered this phenomenon—largely when I was in Lofa County—I smiled and waved to the adoring fans. Now, as this has become more common and a bit annoying at the same time, I have come to ignore the heckles. It seems as though the chanting has grown more intense as I ignore it. Just this morning, a couple children chanted “White man, white man, white man”, for several minutes while I walked down the street. These children were out of eyesight but still seemed to enjoy their moment of viewing a foreigner.
Mice. While I realize they are probably just as scared of me as I of them, nonetheless, whenever I see one, I nearly scream. Their presence in my Liberian bedroom was initially apparent as I saw their droppings all over the room. Now, they have either multiplied quickly or have become much more brave as they scurry about in the evening as I write and reflect. If only a cat could be found. But that might open a whole other box of worms, almost quite literally, or fleas or other insects that I do not need crawling around in my bed with me at night.
500 ml bags of water. I have never been a big fan of plastic. This aversion stems in large part to the core material in plastics—that of petroleum. I prefer to avoid plastic jugs instead opting for the glass alternative. Taking my own bags to the supermarket is as much anenvironmental statement for me as it is a fight against big oil. Anyway, it seems I will have a difficult time escaping the material here in Liberia as my source of life is packaged in it. It appears West African countries have become big fans of 500ml plastic bags of water which can be easily opened with your teeth in order to allow for a quick quenching of your thirst. I have enjoyed a great many of these bags and have now resigned myself to buying large sacks of them to keep a constant supply of potable water available which seems better than using waterpurification tablets on a continuous basis.
Water leaks. Yes, while plastic bags can be great, as is witnessed when plastic bags have too much weight or get caught on anything sharp, they rip. I am not sure how the bag sprung a leak (though the first paragraph may signal a culprit) but I awoke one morning this week to find a water trail on the floor and my backpack drenched. My original idea of prepping my bag for work the evening before by placing two bags of water on the side seems to be misguided. While my computer survived the inundation (thanks in no small part to the carrying case Jay lent me) my papers had to be air dried at work in order to avoid taking on the mildewy odor that is quite common in this humid climate.
White man. I find it quite obvious that my skin color is white and in fact have never really questioned it. Lest I be in need of reassurance of my skin color, I find that anytime I am out in public, children and adults alike enjoy calling out “White man”, as if it were my name. While I became accustomed to “aramuie” in Morocco—which literally means Roman—I did not usually find children chanting to the extent that they do here. When I first encountered this phenomenon—largely when I was in Lofa County—I smiled and waved to the adoring fans. Now, as this has become more common and a bit annoying at the same time, I have come to ignore the heckles. It seems as though the chanting has grown more intense as I ignore it. Just this morning, a couple children chanted “White man, white man, white man”, for several minutes while I walked down the street. These children were out of eyesight but still seemed to enjoy their moment of viewing a foreigner.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
This year
This year, I will:
-fly my kite, in the company of friends, more often
-star gaze more often
-wake up early, more often, to feel the warmth of the sun rise
-pause, more often, to find solace in the setting of the sun
-slow down to catch more snow flakes on my tongue
-relieve my stress, more often, by baking cake from scratch
-eat more in tune with the seasons
-plant more trees
-further reduce my carbon footprint
-blow more bubbles
-enjoy the serenity of candle light, more often
-fly my kite, in the company of friends, more often
-star gaze more often
-wake up early, more often, to feel the warmth of the sun rise
-pause, more often, to find solace in the setting of the sun
-slow down to catch more snow flakes on my tongue
-relieve my stress, more often, by baking cake from scratch
-eat more in tune with the seasons
-plant more trees
-further reduce my carbon footprint
-blow more bubbles
-enjoy the serenity of candle light, more often
Friday, August 8, 2008
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
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
Friday, June 20, 2008
Environmental reading
If you are interested in learning more about the importance of wetlands (as recent flood events can attest to), or learning why local and state policy can be instrumental in stimulating national and international environmental policy, visit http://www.campusprogress.org/, to find out more.
Search for:
Valuable Wasteland
and
Laboratories of Environmentalism
These are just two of several articles related to current environmental issues we face as a human population. Solutions are sought.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Au revoir
After 7 months of teaching in St. Dizier, my contract came to an end, as planned, at the end of April. My final days in France included travels outside the borders to visit some famous and off-the-beaten path European destinations. 
Traveling with my Mom around various parts of western Europe helped to reinforce many of the lessons learned over the last few months. From walking across the Rhine River into Germany by foot-bridge to taking a tour of an historic chocolate factory in Brugge, Belgium, we enjoyed seeing new places and meeting new people.
Traveling with my Mom around various parts of western Europe helped to reinforce many of the lessons learned over the last few months. From walking across the Rhine River into Germany by foot-bridge to taking a tour of an historic chocolate factory in Brugge, Belgium, we enjoyed seeing new places and meeting new people.
Perhaps what continues to be strikingly obvious, upon returning to the U.S., is the incredible size of everything. Whether it is the size of our cars or buildings or the size of our meal portions, I am reminded that our culture has seemed to embrace the idea that bigger is better. While this is not always true, it is acutely apparent after time abroad.
Another striking difference is the pace of life. French people, especially in areas outside Paris, continue their long lunch breaks, meaning most shops and offices are closed from noon to 2pm. Additionally, life in general is a bit slower paced. A return to the U.S., almost as soon as you set foot in the airport, reminds you that we are a country accustomed to hustle and bustle, clock watching and punctuality.
I do not mean to imply that one culture is better than another; but, rather, to identify and raise awareness of some distinct differences. The value of living, traveling and/or working abroad is that you begin to appreciate these subtleties. To rethink our way of living -- whether it is learning to drive smaller, more efficient vehicles, or spending more time with family and friends, or eating or cooking foods with less sugar and fewer preservatives, there is often much to be learned from cultural interactions.
While I was sad to leave France and a more relaxed way of life, I found solace in visiting with Claire — a French woman who we ran into at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport while awaiting our ride home. Ironically, Claire lives in the same neighborhood in Paris as my friend Anne, where my Mom and I had stayed while visiting the city. She had come to the states to visit an old friend in Phoenix.
I continue to find inspiration in the interactions with people around the world, knowing that we are all learning and hopefully, working towards a brighter tomorrow; and that we actually share many commonalities. We must be open to broadening our minds through new experiences and interactions. These past seven months in France and previous two years in Morocco are proof to me that cultural exploration and interaction is invaluable.
Tunisia
Wow!
This one word describes my experience in Tunisia--my vacation destination during the recent spring break. From the unique people I met to the beautiful places visited and sights seen, the trip was simply amazing. Returning to France was not easy. I wish I could have extended my stay, but for the moment it appears I will simply have to return another time--to reconnect with friends and hopefully, make new ones.
The best part of the trip was the interactions I shared with my new Tunisian friends. I was able to see Tunisia not only through the eyes of a tourist--visiting the popular historic sites, but also, from the eyes of Tunisians. From visiting the Roman ruins of Carthage to the blue city of Sidi Bou Said, to sitting at a cafe with friends, chatting about religion, politics, the role of the media in our current views of the world, and many other topics, I gained an incredible perspective into the country and culture in a short amount of time.
The truly extraordinary people I have met over the past few years, and especially during my time in Tunisia, give me a total sense of happiness and optimism.
Most recently, I cannot stop smiling when I think of the friends I made during my trip. I met teachers, students, fathers, mothers, conservative Muslims, homosexuals, hard-metal music lovers, and shop-keepers. All were eager to show me their country. All are proud of their culture.
Whether receiving a fresh bouquet of flowers picked from the family garden--and with fragrances that I've never before smelled, then returning to my room to find the whole room filled with its truly delightful scents, or sharing stories and laughs on the Mediterranean coast, watching the waves roll in and out, while the sun sets and the stars brighten in the night sky, these memories all bring shivers up my spine.
Of course there were times when I was frustrated--feeling used because of the color of my skin and the inherent thought that I must be wealthy. Then I am reminded of how often I hear stories of friends who have been treated the same way here in France (Arab friends who are questioned by security as they enter a bank where they have an account), and numerous stories from the U.S. and I realize that I must think about how I have prejudged people based on their appearance.
In a way, I think I enjoyed Tunisia because it reminds me so much of Morocco--the food, the religious rituals, the pace of life. The country was unique in its vibrancy and modernity. Taking the metro system in Tunis was fascinating in that it was quite possibly more extensive than what exists in many American metropolitan areas of its size. Similar to Morocco, the ability to travel from the northern coast--a relatively green landscape, and arriving at the eastern coast line and sitting on the beach, one that stretches as far as the eye could see, provides an incredible opportunity for reflection and relaxation as you listen to the waves roll in and out.
It was difficult to leave the new friends I made. But all have been invited to visit me in the United States, and I hope some of them have the chance to do so. I look forward to being able to provide them with a unique perspective of the American culture. Hopefully I will be able to return one day to work or for vacation to reunite with friends and continue the cultural exchange.
This one word describes my experience in Tunisia--my vacation destination during the recent spring break. From the unique people I met to the beautiful places visited and sights seen, the trip was simply amazing. Returning to France was not easy. I wish I could have extended my stay, but for the moment it appears I will simply have to return another time--to reconnect with friends and hopefully, make new ones.
The best part of the trip was the interactions I shared with my new Tunisian friends. I was able to see Tunisia not only through the eyes of a tourist--visiting the popular historic sites, but also, from the eyes of Tunisians. From visiting the Roman ruins of Carthage to the blue city of Sidi Bou Said, to sitting at a cafe with friends, chatting about religion, politics, the role of the media in our current views of the world, and many other topics, I gained an incredible perspective into the country and culture in a short amount of time.
The truly extraordinary people I have met over the past few years, and especially during my time in Tunisia, give me a total sense of happiness and optimism.
Most recently, I cannot stop smiling when I think of the friends I made during my trip. I met teachers, students, fathers, mothers, conservative Muslims, homosexuals, hard-metal music lovers, and shop-keepers. All were eager to show me their country. All are proud of their culture.
Whether receiving a fresh bouquet of flowers picked from the family garden--and with fragrances that I've never before smelled, then returning to my room to find the whole room filled with its truly delightful scents, or sharing stories and laughs on the Mediterranean coast, watching the waves roll in and out, while the sun sets and the stars brighten in the night sky, these memories all bring shivers up my spine.
Of course there were times when I was frustrated--feeling used because of the color of my skin and the inherent thought that I must be wealthy. Then I am reminded of how often I hear stories of friends who have been treated the same way here in France (Arab friends who are questioned by security as they enter a bank where they have an account), and numerous stories from the U.S. and I realize that I must think about how I have prejudged people based on their appearance.
In a way, I think I enjoyed Tunisia because it reminds me so much of Morocco--the food, the religious rituals, the pace of life. The country was unique in its vibrancy and modernity. Taking the metro system in Tunis was fascinating in that it was quite possibly more extensive than what exists in many American metropolitan areas of its size. Similar to Morocco, the ability to travel from the northern coast--a relatively green landscape, and arriving at the eastern coast line and sitting on the beach, one that stretches as far as the eye could see, provides an incredible opportunity for reflection and relaxation as you listen to the waves roll in and out.
It was difficult to leave the new friends I made. But all have been invited to visit me in the United States, and I hope some of them have the chance to do so. I look forward to being able to provide them with a unique perspective of the American culture. Hopefully I will be able to return one day to work or for vacation to reunite with friends and continue the cultural exchange.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Pavement as a panacea
Learning to live day-to-day without access to a car, means I am becoming accustomed to daily walks to and from the supermarket, bakery, or various other frequent stops. The city of Saint Dizier does have a public bus system, but due to its relative infrequency and the fact that it ceases operation at approximately 7pm each day, I find it is often easier to walk to my destinations. And while this may not seem all that unusual, when I think about it, for many of us from the U.S., it is actually quite bizarre.
When I drove to and from work or school, or to run errands, I often took out my emotions on other drivers around me--allowing someone to cut in if I was in a good mood, or flicking someone off and honking my horn a little too excessively if I was in a bit of a hurry or a bit angry (luckily the latter was a rare occurence, allowing me to avoid potentially escalating situations).
I have noticed that when I am walking, I feel I internalize these feelings and my stride seems to express my emotion. I find myself listening to my iPod if I am in a good mood and want to have a sort of one-man dance party as I walk down the street (and I often find myself walking in step to the beat, if possible). Other days I am in more of a reflective mood so I go without the music, walking a bit slower and taking in the fresh air and noticing the details of my surroundings, for example ducks floating in the canal which I often cross on my way to my favorite bakery. Or noticing the canal being completely iced-over on cold winter mornings, but cracks and splits in the former continuous cover, brought about by warming afternoon temperatures and direct sunlight, as I cross later in the day.
This walking is not equivalent to walking from my car to the supermarket, though it may express itself here as well. And while it may be expressed in your walking as exercise, there is something a bit different when you are walking as your means of transport rather than for entertainment or health.
I am grateful to have experienced this difference in transportation. Not only do I interact with a whole different set of people, but in a sense, I am actually interacting with people instead of just looking at someone else through a plate glass window. Often I meet students on the street and am able to ask how they are doing. Or I see a teacher or friend, and am able to stop and have a short conversation, which usually brightens my day, something I would have most likely foregone had I been driving to and from my destination.
And perhaps the greatest benefit from walking is that I am learning to control my stride and emotions. The walk usually helps me to get anger out of my system, the pavement or cement becoming my means of diffusing tense situations. And the air becoming my means of refreshing elixir.
While I realize walking may be difficult for many people due to physical circumstances limiting their time, I encourage you to try it more often. Just maybe you will find it to be as relieving and exhilerating as I. There is no cleaner way to travel, and for this, future generations will thank you.
When I drove to and from work or school, or to run errands, I often took out my emotions on other drivers around me--allowing someone to cut in if I was in a good mood, or flicking someone off and honking my horn a little too excessively if I was in a bit of a hurry or a bit angry (luckily the latter was a rare occurence, allowing me to avoid potentially escalating situations).
I have noticed that when I am walking, I feel I internalize these feelings and my stride seems to express my emotion. I find myself listening to my iPod if I am in a good mood and want to have a sort of one-man dance party as I walk down the street (and I often find myself walking in step to the beat, if possible). Other days I am in more of a reflective mood so I go without the music, walking a bit slower and taking in the fresh air and noticing the details of my surroundings, for example ducks floating in the canal which I often cross on my way to my favorite bakery. Or noticing the canal being completely iced-over on cold winter mornings, but cracks and splits in the former continuous cover, brought about by warming afternoon temperatures and direct sunlight, as I cross later in the day.
This walking is not equivalent to walking from my car to the supermarket, though it may express itself here as well. And while it may be expressed in your walking as exercise, there is something a bit different when you are walking as your means of transport rather than for entertainment or health.
I am grateful to have experienced this difference in transportation. Not only do I interact with a whole different set of people, but in a sense, I am actually interacting with people instead of just looking at someone else through a plate glass window. Often I meet students on the street and am able to ask how they are doing. Or I see a teacher or friend, and am able to stop and have a short conversation, which usually brightens my day, something I would have most likely foregone had I been driving to and from my destination.
And perhaps the greatest benefit from walking is that I am learning to control my stride and emotions. The walk usually helps me to get anger out of my system, the pavement or cement becoming my means of diffusing tense situations. And the air becoming my means of refreshing elixir.
While I realize walking may be difficult for many people due to physical circumstances limiting their time, I encourage you to try it more often. Just maybe you will find it to be as relieving and exhilerating as I. There is no cleaner way to travel, and for this, future generations will thank you.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
A week
Life has continued to prove fascinating. And as I try my best to harness the free-spirit that is present in every opportunity, I am finding that this energy from one event can easily lead to another. This past week proved to be yet one clear example of just how strange this journey can be. Through various actions or inactions, I came to experience...
Meeting my distant cousin Louis, in Paris. While we have not officially verified that we are cousins, the mere fact that we have the same last name and our ancestral heritage leads back to a similar geographical region, is proof enough for me. And why question something this ironic. Life is too short to not enjoy the delight in finding a cousin while living in a foreign country. Louis and I ended up spending a morning together in Paris sipping coffee, ice skating in the Plaza of the Hotel de Ville, and having lunch. That touch of a hand to someone with whom you may share a distant ancestral relation, is incredibly comforting.
This same evening, several people joined in celebrating Rachel's 21st birthday. Partying in Paris, this really cannot be beat. From the unmistakable tone of techno dance music, to those lovely French swear words being used by the overly-drunk as they are asked to leave the establishment, the world's large cities each have a unique story that plays itself out each and every day. If you have your ears open, you just may hear it.
Mid-week I spent a lovely evening at a fellow English teacher's house for dinner along with two of her friends. Once again, my taste buds were treated to the loveliest of multi-course French dinners (hors d'oeuvres, appetizers, champagne, wine, main course, variety of cheeses, dessert, and coffee). There we were, three French ladies and myself, sitting and discussing politics, current events, and personal stories, in French.
The next day, I awoke a bit late. Treated myself to homemade, chocolate chip pancakes and several cups of coffee. Then, Rachel and I assisted Carole, the daughter of Sheila and Gilles, with setting out jewelery in her shop. Carole is opening a new jewelery store here in St. Dizier and is attempting to have it fully stocked and open prior to Christmas. So, Rachel and I had the delight of playing with gold and silver jewelery for the afternoon. There is something of true visual delight when you are empowered to arrange jewelery and accessories as you see fit, according to color and style.
As I entered my favorite pastry shop on the way home this week, I was truly humbled to have become a regular. Just as the last customer turned to leave, the lovely lady grabbed my favorite bread (the Polka) and then asked to verify that I also wanted the sacristan (chocolaty-sugary goodness) this day. And while I wasn't really in need of bread that day, the very fact that my usual order was remembered and being prepared before I even asked for it, left me in awe. Maybe it was the scent of the sweet concoctions that got me, but I was not at all regretful for purchasing both items this day.
My senses had a great feast this week. I can only hope that this incredible life continues to prove as fascinating as it did in these last seven days. If I continue to allow the energy to lead me, I think it will only get better.
Meeting my distant cousin Louis, in Paris. While we have not officially verified that we are cousins, the mere fact that we have the same last name and our ancestral heritage leads back to a similar geographical region, is proof enough for me. And why question something this ironic. Life is too short to not enjoy the delight in finding a cousin while living in a foreign country. Louis and I ended up spending a morning together in Paris sipping coffee, ice skating in the Plaza of the Hotel de Ville, and having lunch. That touch of a hand to someone with whom you may share a distant ancestral relation, is incredibly comforting.
This same evening, several people joined in celebrating Rachel's 21st birthday. Partying in Paris, this really cannot be beat. From the unmistakable tone of techno dance music, to those lovely French swear words being used by the overly-drunk as they are asked to leave the establishment, the world's large cities each have a unique story that plays itself out each and every day. If you have your ears open, you just may hear it.
Mid-week I spent a lovely evening at a fellow English teacher's house for dinner along with two of her friends. Once again, my taste buds were treated to the loveliest of multi-course French dinners (hors d'oeuvres, appetizers, champagne, wine, main course, variety of cheeses, dessert, and coffee). There we were, three French ladies and myself, sitting and discussing politics, current events, and personal stories, in French.
The next day, I awoke a bit late. Treated myself to homemade, chocolate chip pancakes and several cups of coffee. Then, Rachel and I assisted Carole, the daughter of Sheila and Gilles, with setting out jewelery in her shop. Carole is opening a new jewelery store here in St. Dizier and is attempting to have it fully stocked and open prior to Christmas. So, Rachel and I had the delight of playing with gold and silver jewelery for the afternoon. There is something of true visual delight when you are empowered to arrange jewelery and accessories as you see fit, according to color and style.
As I entered my favorite pastry shop on the way home this week, I was truly humbled to have become a regular. Just as the last customer turned to leave, the lovely lady grabbed my favorite bread (the Polka) and then asked to verify that I also wanted the sacristan (chocolaty-sugary goodness) this day. And while I wasn't really in need of bread that day, the very fact that my usual order was remembered and being prepared before I even asked for it, left me in awe. Maybe it was the scent of the sweet concoctions that got me, but I was not at all regretful for purchasing both items this day.
My senses had a great feast this week. I can only hope that this incredible life continues to prove as fascinating as it did in these last seven days. If I continue to allow the energy to lead me, I think it will only get better.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
When a bag, or lack thereof, is more than just a bag
As I approached the check-out lane, realizing I would be waiting at least five minutes due to my place in line behind customers who were buying all their food for the week, it dawned on me that I did not have a bag. In France, it is obligatory that you bring your own bag to take home your groceries, or you must purchase various size and style bags from the retailer as a punishment for your forgetful- or unprepared-ness.
Being I stopped into Ed just to purchase a few snacks (Ed being one of many discount retail grocery chains that have infiltrated my otherwise small, quaint French city; quaint, minus the recent bout of riots), I opted to practice my ambidextrous abilities and carry my purchases home without a bag.
As I leave the store, I see some students from school, we exchange pleasantries, and continue on our separate ways. It is then that I have an epiphany.
Maybe the whole concept behind bringing your own bag, is more than just an environmental effort to reduce consumption and waste. Just maybe, in their ingenuity, the French also realized that this procedure would also force consumers, those who forget to bring along a reusable sack or those unwilling to purchase one, to have to face consequences of public exposure for their purchases.
Being that I was walking a few blocks to my apartment on one of the main routes into downtown, I had the pleasure of exposing my very American purchases to the people of St. Dizier. With 3 liters of Pepsi Max and my chocolate pound cake, I am pretty sure I stuck out as un-French.
Maybe the only other item that would have been more of a tip-off would have been a loaf of sliced bread to accompany my very Americanized snacks.
With a smirk of embarrassment, I trudged home while enjoying meeting more students along the way.
And thus, I hope to be on track to remembering my re-enforced, re-usable bag in the future, otherwise, I will be doomed to face the consequences of my actions once again. And so, I have learned a lesson in the benefits of public exposure 101.
Being I stopped into Ed just to purchase a few snacks (Ed being one of many discount retail grocery chains that have infiltrated my otherwise small, quaint French city; quaint, minus the recent bout of riots), I opted to practice my ambidextrous abilities and carry my purchases home without a bag.
As I leave the store, I see some students from school, we exchange pleasantries, and continue on our separate ways. It is then that I have an epiphany.
Maybe the whole concept behind bringing your own bag, is more than just an environmental effort to reduce consumption and waste. Just maybe, in their ingenuity, the French also realized that this procedure would also force consumers, those who forget to bring along a reusable sack or those unwilling to purchase one, to have to face consequences of public exposure for their purchases.
Being that I was walking a few blocks to my apartment on one of the main routes into downtown, I had the pleasure of exposing my very American purchases to the people of St. Dizier. With 3 liters of Pepsi Max and my chocolate pound cake, I am pretty sure I stuck out as un-French.
Maybe the only other item that would have been more of a tip-off would have been a loaf of sliced bread to accompany my very Americanized snacks.
With a smirk of embarrassment, I trudged home while enjoying meeting more students along the way.
And thus, I hope to be on track to remembering my re-enforced, re-usable bag in the future, otherwise, I will be doomed to face the consequences of my actions once again. And so, I have learned a lesson in the benefits of public exposure 101.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Saint Dizier, France
Yet another adventure begins. This time I am enjoying the beauty of the French countryside, accompanied by the delicious tastes of fresh cheese, expertly crafted wines and champagnes, and fresh breads of all kinds. And when you place these all together, you have a truly scrumptious meal. If you have never experienced French food, in France, then you can only begin to imagine the delight to your senses such a meal entails.
Alas. In addition to eating fabulous food in an attempt to gain the weight back that I lost in Morocco, I do have another objective on this journey. Well, a few, I guess. My job here is as an English Language Teaching Assistant. I will be practicing conversational English with secondary school students here at the large public high school in St. Dizier. There are hundreds of students in various level English courses, but only those interested in attending my classes will have to do so. Thus, I am looking forward to conversing with those students who wish to learn more English while being able to discuss relevant current event issues related to politics, international affairs, social problems, etc.
Additionally, my personal goal is to gain a sufficient level of French so as to be able to study with this as my second language in graduate school next fall.
The school here has been incredibly delightful in providing me with a furnished, two-bedroom apartment complete with a large bathroom and tub that allows for time to soak and sip wine. While it is a little overwhelming having so much space, I am learning to make each room a separate component to my daily life.
Vacations will be bountiful. I am looking forward to at least 7 1/2 weeks of vacation to sight see within France and the greater European area.
This region of France (Champagne-Ardenne) is famous for its Champagne. So if you are in the mood to see historic Champagne caves, taste a bit from a bottle before you buy it, or visit a vineyard, this is the place to visit. And of course, with Paris just a two-hour train ride away, this is a perfect spot for relaxation away from the major tourist attractions.
In my region alone, there are foreign language assistants from all over the world including New Zealand, South Africa, Colombia, Argentina, Mexico, Great Britain, and Germany.
My first few days here in the classroom has been full of introductions. Students have been very good about asking a wide variety of questions. There is one question that has come up in every class and that is 'What do you think of President Bush'. And this is perfect in allowing for a good discussion about America's current policies, especially as they relate to international affairs. We have a lot of work to do to ever regain our reputation as a respected leader once this infamous leader leaves office, which can happen none too soon.
So, I assume the students and I will get along splendidly. And I am looking forward to seven months of good discussion, great food, amazing sights, and wonderful company. If you are interested in visiting, just be in touch. Otherwise, best wishes and may you have a delightful fall season.
Alas. In addition to eating fabulous food in an attempt to gain the weight back that I lost in Morocco, I do have another objective on this journey. Well, a few, I guess. My job here is as an English Language Teaching Assistant. I will be practicing conversational English with secondary school students here at the large public high school in St. Dizier. There are hundreds of students in various level English courses, but only those interested in attending my classes will have to do so. Thus, I am looking forward to conversing with those students who wish to learn more English while being able to discuss relevant current event issues related to politics, international affairs, social problems, etc.
Additionally, my personal goal is to gain a sufficient level of French so as to be able to study with this as my second language in graduate school next fall.
The school here has been incredibly delightful in providing me with a furnished, two-bedroom apartment complete with a large bathroom and tub that allows for time to soak and sip wine. While it is a little overwhelming having so much space, I am learning to make each room a separate component to my daily life.
Vacations will be bountiful. I am looking forward to at least 7 1/2 weeks of vacation to sight see within France and the greater European area.
This region of France (Champagne-Ardenne) is famous for its Champagne. So if you are in the mood to see historic Champagne caves, taste a bit from a bottle before you buy it, or visit a vineyard, this is the place to visit. And of course, with Paris just a two-hour train ride away, this is a perfect spot for relaxation away from the major tourist attractions.
In my region alone, there are foreign language assistants from all over the world including New Zealand, South Africa, Colombia, Argentina, Mexico, Great Britain, and Germany.
My first few days here in the classroom has been full of introductions. Students have been very good about asking a wide variety of questions. There is one question that has come up in every class and that is 'What do you think of President Bush'. And this is perfect in allowing for a good discussion about America's current policies, especially as they relate to international affairs. We have a lot of work to do to ever regain our reputation as a respected leader once this infamous leader leaves office, which can happen none too soon.
So, I assume the students and I will get along splendidly. And I am looking forward to seven months of good discussion, great food, amazing sights, and wonderful company. If you are interested in visiting, just be in touch. Otherwise, best wishes and may you have a delightful fall season.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Defining Community
Defining your community may not seem imperative, but in reality, it has a tremendous effect on how we go about our daily lives. Community in Morocco exhibited a very different set of characteristics than community does back here at home in rural Minnesota. We each make choices that affect how we interact with our neighbors and within greater society, and it is up to each of us as individuals to change those choices if we think it is necessary. Maybe we want to see a closer-knit neighborhood or a world more at peace. Set a vision and work to create that new, brighter world.
A difficult part of the readjustment process from Morocco to the U.S. was the redefinition of community. In many ways, I missed the close-knit connections Morocco represented. We certainly have our own sense of community here in the U.S. and in southeast Minnesota, but I think there exist a few things Morocco can teach us, as well as a few things we do pretty well that could be shared with others.
One of the first things that I had trouble processing was the large scale of everything in America. From our large trucks and SUVs to our multi-story buildings, Morocco is not a country with such an appetite for large things. It seemed to me as though the skyscrapers and cars seemed to imply we each want our own space and invasion of that personal space was frowned upon.
But then again, our standards of safety are a little different than those of Morocco. Additionally, we are pretty good at building skyscrapers that reduce our need to sprawl. This is a little more difficult in Morocco, in part due to the availability of large-scale construction equipment.
The lack of local, central markets was also a readjustment. I became accustomed to being able to purchase most anything I needed when in a large city, simply by walking less than a couple blocks away to a general store. Many of our cities here in the U.S. are built with the idea of cars in mind. Large parking lots, exit and entrance ramps, and cement curbs are the norm. It saddens me to think of those without cars, either by choice or by circumstances beyond their control (i.e. financial or technical) and how they must try and work around a society so heavily built on personal automobiles.
Nightly strolls are missed. While many people go out and about at various times of the day for exercise here, in Morocco nightly strolls were a part of the culture and the sense of community. Think of it as a large block party—you saw your neighbors, friends, and family of all ages on the street at night. Walking, playing soccer, eating ice cream cones, and conversing were common-place. I wonder where our sense of spontaneous conversation with our neighbors on a daily basis has gone.
While we here in the U.S. certainly enjoy hosting from time to time, we often find it a chore cleaning the house and preparing the food in anticipation of our guests’ arrival. Moroccan homes are very diverse, ranging from dirt and rock built homes to those of concrete, but yet, no matter the circumstances, a clean house was usually the least of a hosts’ worry. The utmost concern is making sure guests are happy and comfortable. And the conversation must be top-notch.
Then again, after a two-year sabbatical, I found my friends and family here at home in southeastern Minnesota to be very welcoming. Whether it was one of the typical summer potluck picnics or outdoor barbeques, we are keen to get outside and enjoy the wonderful summers our region has to offer.
Communities throughout the world are very diverse. And for me, an amazing part of the experience of life is immersing myself in a few of those. As we go about our daily lives, I encourage you to consider other cultures and how we may integrate good aspects of other communities into our own. Trial and error may prove to be the most logical method of exploration. May we continue to grow together and learn to respect one another as we all share our beautiful world.
Originally posted at rneighbors.org - Rochester Minnesota's Neighborhood Resource Center
A difficult part of the readjustment process from Morocco to the U.S. was the redefinition of community. In many ways, I missed the close-knit connections Morocco represented. We certainly have our own sense of community here in the U.S. and in southeast Minnesota, but I think there exist a few things Morocco can teach us, as well as a few things we do pretty well that could be shared with others.
One of the first things that I had trouble processing was the large scale of everything in America. From our large trucks and SUVs to our multi-story buildings, Morocco is not a country with such an appetite for large things. It seemed to me as though the skyscrapers and cars seemed to imply we each want our own space and invasion of that personal space was frowned upon.
But then again, our standards of safety are a little different than those of Morocco. Additionally, we are pretty good at building skyscrapers that reduce our need to sprawl. This is a little more difficult in Morocco, in part due to the availability of large-scale construction equipment.
The lack of local, central markets was also a readjustment. I became accustomed to being able to purchase most anything I needed when in a large city, simply by walking less than a couple blocks away to a general store. Many of our cities here in the U.S. are built with the idea of cars in mind. Large parking lots, exit and entrance ramps, and cement curbs are the norm. It saddens me to think of those without cars, either by choice or by circumstances beyond their control (i.e. financial or technical) and how they must try and work around a society so heavily built on personal automobiles.
Nightly strolls are missed. While many people go out and about at various times of the day for exercise here, in Morocco nightly strolls were a part of the culture and the sense of community. Think of it as a large block party—you saw your neighbors, friends, and family of all ages on the street at night. Walking, playing soccer, eating ice cream cones, and conversing were common-place. I wonder where our sense of spontaneous conversation with our neighbors on a daily basis has gone.
While we here in the U.S. certainly enjoy hosting from time to time, we often find it a chore cleaning the house and preparing the food in anticipation of our guests’ arrival. Moroccan homes are very diverse, ranging from dirt and rock built homes to those of concrete, but yet, no matter the circumstances, a clean house was usually the least of a hosts’ worry. The utmost concern is making sure guests are happy and comfortable. And the conversation must be top-notch.
Then again, after a two-year sabbatical, I found my friends and family here at home in southeastern Minnesota to be very welcoming. Whether it was one of the typical summer potluck picnics or outdoor barbeques, we are keen to get outside and enjoy the wonderful summers our region has to offer.
Communities throughout the world are very diverse. And for me, an amazing part of the experience of life is immersing myself in a few of those. As we go about our daily lives, I encourage you to consider other cultures and how we may integrate good aspects of other communities into our own. Trial and error may prove to be the most logical method of exploration. May we continue to grow together and learn to respect one another as we all share our beautiful world.
Originally posted at rneighbors.org - Rochester Minnesota's Neighborhood Resource Center
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Readjustment
And so it has been nearly three weeks since I left my home of 27 months. Being back in the United States seems like a dream. It seems as though, at any time, I will return to Morocco and the life I lived. My life there was one of stress, misunderstanding, but oddly now, it seems, tranquility.
Perhaps the most difficult part of readjusting to America is the fast pace of life. This combined with my constant thoughts of friends in Morocco, and the difficulties they live with each and every day, continue to remind me of what I must keep working for and towards—a world free of hate and poverty.
This weekend, I am enjoying time with friends in Minneapolis, celebrating gay pride. It is a bit overwhelming to be back in a country where homosexuals can be open with their lifestyle. It is inspiring, but at the same time, causes me to reflect upon the life that I lived for two years, and the life that many of my Moroccan friends may live for their entire lives.
For this reason, my passion in social justice endeavors continues to grow. I thank you, my friends and family, for providing me with support in my efforts. I have yet to feel truly comfortable back here in my home land, but I hope that soon I can be happy again. Please bear with me as I readjust.
Perhaps the most difficult part of readjusting to America is the fast pace of life. This combined with my constant thoughts of friends in Morocco, and the difficulties they live with each and every day, continue to remind me of what I must keep working for and towards—a world free of hate and poverty.
This weekend, I am enjoying time with friends in Minneapolis, celebrating gay pride. It is a bit overwhelming to be back in a country where homosexuals can be open with their lifestyle. It is inspiring, but at the same time, causes me to reflect upon the life that I lived for two years, and the life that many of my Moroccan friends may live for their entire lives.
For this reason, my passion in social justice endeavors continues to grow. I thank you, my friends and family, for providing me with support in my efforts. I have yet to feel truly comfortable back here in my home land, but I hope that soon I can be happy again. Please bear with me as I readjust.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Saying Goodbye
The final weeks of my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer have been filled with writing reports, enjoying my favorite activities which often include eating my favorite Moroccan dishes, saying goodbyes, and doing those final chores that seemed to have been ‘firsts’ just not too long ago. This is a challenging moment full of emotion.
Over these two years my eyes have seen great geographical diversity (from snow-capped mountains of the High Atlas to the dunes of the Saharan sands, to the beaches and water of the Atlantic ocean), events of mourning and great joy, love between family and friends, anger, appreciation for a helping hand, and warmth of human relationships.
In essence, this has been an experience far beyond what I had imagined it would be and incredibly different than anything else in my life.
One of my close friends, Houssam, put it best in saying that as the sun sets each day, and for me, here in my final days in Morocco, the warm charm of the sun and the reflection it gives upon the achievements of the day, give hope that the day which is to come will be even better than the last.
And while leaving Morocco is bittersweet, this thought helps me remember to look at what is to come. And I know that Morocco will be with me for life—reminding me to be thankful and to keep working to abate injustices, inequalities and poverty.
Thank you Morocco—you will never know just how much you have taught me.
Salam walaykum.
Over these two years my eyes have seen great geographical diversity (from snow-capped mountains of the High Atlas to the dunes of the Saharan sands, to the beaches and water of the Atlantic ocean), events of mourning and great joy, love between family and friends, anger, appreciation for a helping hand, and warmth of human relationships.
In essence, this has been an experience far beyond what I had imagined it would be and incredibly different than anything else in my life.
One of my close friends, Houssam, put it best in saying that as the sun sets each day, and for me, here in my final days in Morocco, the warm charm of the sun and the reflection it gives upon the achievements of the day, give hope that the day which is to come will be even better than the last.
And while leaving Morocco is bittersweet, this thought helps me remember to look at what is to come. And I know that Morocco will be with me for life—reminding me to be thankful and to keep working to abate injustices, inequalities and poverty.
Thank you Morocco—you will never know just how much you have taught me.
Salam walaykum.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
22 years of life
March 8, 2007
My 22nd year of life was one filled with emotion, challenges and inspiring moments. There were many days of seeming depression and as many days of true excitement and exhilaration.
I became an uncle to a beautiful girl and boy.
I continued to struggle through life and work in Morocco.
I have been overwhelmed by the possibilities and opportunities available in life.
I've learned to take better care of myself.
I've become more comfortable and excited with who I am.
I've renewed my commitment to creativity and curiosity.
I've spent invaluable time with family and friends.
I've fostered many new friendships.
I've been inspired by people's resilience and determination.
I've defined further my commitments.
I've thought, embraced; hopefully, imparted wisdom; been guided by passion, and, I've loved.
My 22nd year of life was amazing and I anticipate many challenges and potential rewards in this next year of life. Thank you to all of you who have been a part of this last year.
In love and peace,
Adam
My 22nd year of life was one filled with emotion, challenges and inspiring moments. There were many days of seeming depression and as many days of true excitement and exhilaration.
I became an uncle to a beautiful girl and boy.
I continued to struggle through life and work in Morocco.
I have been overwhelmed by the possibilities and opportunities available in life.
I've learned to take better care of myself.
I've become more comfortable and excited with who I am.
I've renewed my commitment to creativity and curiosity.
I've spent invaluable time with family and friends.
I've fostered many new friendships.
I've been inspired by people's resilience and determination.
I've defined further my commitments.
I've thought, embraced; hopefully, imparted wisdom; been guided by passion, and, I've loved.
My 22nd year of life was amazing and I anticipate many challenges and potential rewards in this next year of life. Thank you to all of you who have been a part of this last year.
In love and peace,
Adam
Friday, February 2, 2007
To be or not?
I wrote the following as a sort of helpful guide for those considering Peace Corps service. There is no single piece of advice I can give that would make your service easy. It has proven to be a truly challenging time of my life—-between overcoming cultural barriers to justifying your time in a foreign country, away from family and friends, when you have little to show for your time/work from an American perspective, you will stretch your limits.
Hopefully, the following thoughts will help to explain why I believe it to be a worthwhile experience. I am always willing to explain further so be in touch if you have any questions.
Considerations
Being in a relationship prior to leaving for service is incredibly difficult to maintain for 27 months. It is a reason many Volunteers leave service early or a part of the motivation to leave early when things are not going well during service. Be sure to give a fair amount of time to considering how you will handle a potential lack of affection and cope with not being near or
having a relationship for over two years.
The application process to becoming a Volunteer can take up to one year. If you have any medical issues expect extra paperwork and significant delays. The process is as much a test of your patience and flexibility as it is a test of effectiveness of the Peace Corps bureaucracy (Peace Corps is a government organization and therefore, you will have to deal with a fair level of
bureaucracy).
Training is intense and highly structured-—quite often in stark contrast to the remaining 24 months of service as a Volunteer.
Work is often hard to quantify from an American perspective. You must remember there are three goals of Peace Corps and the technical goal does not imply you will help build a school. Funding for projects can be difficult to find. Additionally, you may not gain specific technical skills but often you will gain greater skills in cultural understanding, patience, independence, and international affairs.
Every country is different in regards to many policies and/or how they are enforced often based on the infrastructure, technology, country director, etc. and means that it will be very difficult to compare a Volunteer’s experience in say, China, to a Volunteer’s experience in Mozambique.
Every one of the 187,000 Volunteers or Trainees that are currently serving or have served has had and will have a very unique experience.
My experience
It is likely that not a week has gone by when I have not questioned why I am still here as a Volunteer.
Cultural challenges, lack of work, lack of a long-term relationship, physical illness, and some or all of the above combining to cause near mental illness have led me to face some of the greatest challenges of my life.
On that same weekly basis, I have at least one amazing, uplifting day when I realize how incredible Moroccans are, how much they have given me, how much I have grown and how invaluable my time here has been if not for mere personal benefit.
While I do not think I would look to serve another 27 months (at least not in the near future), I am grateful for my experience and would not give it up.
I have learned basic cooking skills and first aid, and how to be more patient, flexible, persistent, humble, personally motivated, responsible, self-sufficient, kind, generous, honest, independent, and much more.
These 22 months, thus far, have provided invaluable time for personal reflection, thought, investigation, and helped me to refresh my mind. This in turn has helped me to further define my moral values, passions, and beliefs. I have committed my life to abating injustices, intolerance, violence, environmental degradation, poverty, and inequality. While I believed in
fighting many of these before, I have gained a further resolve from my experience here.
A part of my heart is and will forever be here in my village and Morocco.
By the time your final months of service are upon you, you may realize how accustomed you are to life in your country of service while you still struggle through misunderstandings. And, quite likely, you may come to be scared of the return to what once you considered normal-—that of your home in the United States.
At this point in time, you realize how incredibly distinct two lives can be. You realize you get to leave this life in-country behind while your community members most likely can not. And this, may, along with so much else, be precisely why you will never stop fighting the good fight. You realize how blessed you are and how difficult so many millions of other peoples' lives are.
And it is the reason why Peace Corps’ former motto, ‘The toughest job you’ll ever love’, could not be more true. But maybe you will come to realize that ‘job’ is not as accurate a term as is ‘life’.
Whether you decide to apply, accept an invitation, train and serve, you are challenging yourself. Remember that as a Volunteer you can choose to leave service at any point during training or your 24 months of service. Whether you complete one or 24 months, your life will change. And just maybe, someone’s life around you will have improved due to your being a part of it. But this is something you may never know.
Hopefully, the following thoughts will help to explain why I believe it to be a worthwhile experience. I am always willing to explain further so be in touch if you have any questions.
Considerations
Being in a relationship prior to leaving for service is incredibly difficult to maintain for 27 months. It is a reason many Volunteers leave service early or a part of the motivation to leave early when things are not going well during service. Be sure to give a fair amount of time to considering how you will handle a potential lack of affection and cope with not being near or
having a relationship for over two years.
The application process to becoming a Volunteer can take up to one year. If you have any medical issues expect extra paperwork and significant delays. The process is as much a test of your patience and flexibility as it is a test of effectiveness of the Peace Corps bureaucracy (Peace Corps is a government organization and therefore, you will have to deal with a fair level of
bureaucracy).
Training is intense and highly structured-—quite often in stark contrast to the remaining 24 months of service as a Volunteer.
Work is often hard to quantify from an American perspective. You must remember there are three goals of Peace Corps and the technical goal does not imply you will help build a school. Funding for projects can be difficult to find. Additionally, you may not gain specific technical skills but often you will gain greater skills in cultural understanding, patience, independence, and international affairs.
Every country is different in regards to many policies and/or how they are enforced often based on the infrastructure, technology, country director, etc. and means that it will be very difficult to compare a Volunteer’s experience in say, China, to a Volunteer’s experience in Mozambique.
Every one of the 187,000 Volunteers or Trainees that are currently serving or have served has had and will have a very unique experience.
My experience
It is likely that not a week has gone by when I have not questioned why I am still here as a Volunteer.
Cultural challenges, lack of work, lack of a long-term relationship, physical illness, and some or all of the above combining to cause near mental illness have led me to face some of the greatest challenges of my life.
On that same weekly basis, I have at least one amazing, uplifting day when I realize how incredible Moroccans are, how much they have given me, how much I have grown and how invaluable my time here has been if not for mere personal benefit.
While I do not think I would look to serve another 27 months (at least not in the near future), I am grateful for my experience and would not give it up.
I have learned basic cooking skills and first aid, and how to be more patient, flexible, persistent, humble, personally motivated, responsible, self-sufficient, kind, generous, honest, independent, and much more.
These 22 months, thus far, have provided invaluable time for personal reflection, thought, investigation, and helped me to refresh my mind. This in turn has helped me to further define my moral values, passions, and beliefs. I have committed my life to abating injustices, intolerance, violence, environmental degradation, poverty, and inequality. While I believed in
fighting many of these before, I have gained a further resolve from my experience here.
A part of my heart is and will forever be here in my village and Morocco.
By the time your final months of service are upon you, you may realize how accustomed you are to life in your country of service while you still struggle through misunderstandings. And, quite likely, you may come to be scared of the return to what once you considered normal-—that of your home in the United States.
At this point in time, you realize how incredibly distinct two lives can be. You realize you get to leave this life in-country behind while your community members most likely can not. And this, may, along with so much else, be precisely why you will never stop fighting the good fight. You realize how blessed you are and how difficult so many millions of other peoples' lives are.
And it is the reason why Peace Corps’ former motto, ‘The toughest job you’ll ever love’, could not be more true. But maybe you will come to realize that ‘job’ is not as accurate a term as is ‘life’.
Whether you decide to apply, accept an invitation, train and serve, you are challenging yourself. Remember that as a Volunteer you can choose to leave service at any point during training or your 24 months of service. Whether you complete one or 24 months, your life will change. And just maybe, someone’s life around you will have improved due to your being a part of it. But this is something you may never know.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Happy Holidays 2006
This year the main holidays of Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Christmas, L'Aid Kbir, and, of course, New Year's, all fall within the same few weeks. As our world faces the difficulties of understanding one another, I find solace in knowing that despite our differences in beliefs, we all celebrate an important aspect of our lives at the same time this year. It helps me to remember that we all find time to celebrate the love of family and friends and reflect upon that for which we are grateful.
Whether it is picking out the family Christmas tree or purchasing the necessary lamb to be sacrificed for L'Aid, our traditions seem to be distinct yet similar. Life has lead us to another year.
For me, this past year has once again been filled with great challenges, but for the most part, they have helped me to grow and expand my horizon.
I am grateful for the family I have created here in Morocco—both Moroccan and American. These people (too many to mention by name, but I hope I have thanked you in other ways), have helped me through some of the greatest challenges of my life. Many of these challenges have changed me in ways that I may never fully realize. But I hope, that as my time here in Morocco comes into the final months, to be able to reflect upon how I have changed most significantly and what that means for my future.
May 2007 be filled with hope, joy, love, and the fulfillment of your dreams. Together, we will create a world that is free from discrimination and one in which our children can live without the fear of war. And to do that, we must combat poverty and the injustices that we see on a daily basis. It is time to stop ignoring and begin acting. Too often we see but fail to recognize and hear but fail to act. Let us fight the good fight this year.
To you and yours, a very happy holiday.
In love and peace,
Adam J. Welti
Whether it is picking out the family Christmas tree or purchasing the necessary lamb to be sacrificed for L'Aid, our traditions seem to be distinct yet similar. Life has lead us to another year.
For me, this past year has once again been filled with great challenges, but for the most part, they have helped me to grow and expand my horizon.
I am grateful for the family I have created here in Morocco—both Moroccan and American. These people (too many to mention by name, but I hope I have thanked you in other ways), have helped me through some of the greatest challenges of my life. Many of these challenges have changed me in ways that I may never fully realize. But I hope, that as my time here in Morocco comes into the final months, to be able to reflect upon how I have changed most significantly and what that means for my future.
May 2007 be filled with hope, joy, love, and the fulfillment of your dreams. Together, we will create a world that is free from discrimination and one in which our children can live without the fear of war. And to do that, we must combat poverty and the injustices that we see on a daily basis. It is time to stop ignoring and begin acting. Too often we see but fail to recognize and hear but fail to act. Let us fight the good fight this year.
To you and yours, a very happy holiday.
In love and peace,
Adam J. Welti
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