Mid-December Thoughts

12-14-07 CAFÉ GUY

I was sitting in my favorite café today, drinking ns-ns (“Half-Half.” It’s half black espresso and half milk, like a latte in a double shot glass),and thinking to myself that I’d rather just sit there and read a book than go teach an English lesson in a half hour like I had to. I looked around and realized the man who waits on me every day wasn’t around. I was a bit jarred. That café is my place of normalcy—same man, same drink, same Moroccans watching what always appears to be the same soccer game (still dudes kicking a ball around). But then I though about it, and was glad that the poor guy had a day off. I mean, I see him there every day.
Then, as if on cue, he walked in from outside—must have just been out to get something. He walked up to me, shook my hand, and we had our same quick little “What’s up/Not much” conversation we have every time (that’s part of my normalcy café experience—no conjugation, or translation involved! Plus he’s always running around busy with no time for chit-chat). But this time, I got bold and broke the normalcy game.
I said what I think was the equivalent of “Jeeze man, you work EVERY single day?” He just smiled at me, and as a subtle look of pride crossed his face, he nodded and said Humdo’illah (Thanks be to God).
I was oddly taken aback—like I usually am when Arabic conversations go somewhere different than I had planned them to. I had been making American-style job whining conversation, expecting some response like “Yup, idiots can’t run this place without me,” or “The old-ball-n-chain wants to repaint the kitchen,” or at least something grumbley. It bothered me that he had just shaken-up my whole sense of working-class conversation.
It was wild. Rather than doing what I though would be the typical thing, and complaining that he had to work so much, this man was honestly grateful that he has the chance to run around serving coffee all day every day, because most people in town can’t even find work, much less full time. Rather than a burden, this work was a gift from God. Rather than a source of annoyance, his job was a source of pride, and the source of a good life for his family.
After, my little space-out, it was time to pack up and head to class. As I was getting up to go, the man came out, surprised that I was leaving so quickly. He asked if I was heading to work.
And I said, “Yup.”
Then, in unison, we both smiled and said “Humdo’illah.”

12-17-2007 WHAT I DO

I realized I’ve written quite a bit about random experiences I’ve had, but not a lot about what I do on a daily basis—mostly because I get a lot of “Hey Chris, good blog. So what do you actually do there?” emails. So, by request:
Officially, I spend 6 days a week working at a Youth Center here in Ben Guerir, primarily with a “Youth and English Club” set up by the last PC volunteer. The club, which is run by a group of youth leaders, has about 30 members ranging from ages 14-28 (The concept of “youth” is different here. It essentially applies to you if you are unmarried and still live with your family, which is fairly common here among 20-somethings. Most of the members are still in high school, but some have jobs and come to work with the club as sort of a “volunteer” project).
As far as the club goes: In the morning, they run a small “library” that consists of one bookshelf full of beginning and intermediate English (and some French) reading materials, and a bunch of dictionaries. Usually, between 7 and 15 kids show up every morning—sometimes to check out books, sometimes looking for English homework help, or sometimes just to have a quiet place to study with their friends. The club members run the library with a watchful eye and an super-organized sign-out system.
In the afternoons, the club does classes, events, or activities. I meet with the leaders every Sunday and we plan the next weeks events (well, THEY plan them in a big 2 hour Arabic conversation that I give up on trying to follow a fourth of the way through. Then, in the last 2 minutes, someone translates a synopsis and asks if it sounds good, and I give a resounding “Uh-huh,” which, lucky for me, translates perfectly into Arabic).
I usually take 2 of the afternoons to do English classes. I’m attempting to have one class that’s more beginning-intermediate grammar based, and one more advanced “discussion” class—but it usually depends on which students show up as to what level I end up teaching. I have to design “transformable” classes in which I can turn my planned discussion into a grammar lesson if more beginner students happen to show up that day, or vice versa.
While most club members are very interested in learning English, ultimately, they’re more excited about activities and especially discussions. On the other afternoons, one of the youth leaders will plan a discussion on a certain subject—women’s rights in morocco, generational differences, education, religion, or something along those lines—and everyone just shows up and has at it. It often gets quite heated. They get quite passionate about these issues. I was confused at first as to why everyone would get so worked up about doing these. It was odd for me that the youth here were always so eager to have a “discussion” activity. But I realized that they rarely, if ever, have a chance to do something like this where young men and women can come together and just talk openly about issues that face them and their society. The school system is fairly passive learning, and just like in the US, youth aren’t usually going to want to get into these discussions with parents and families, so they jump on the chance to just talk with each other and be heard at the youth center.
One of their favorite activities is to put someone in a chair at the front of the room, close the door, and ask them absolutely anything. Of course the person has the freedom not to answer if he/she is uncomfortable, but since it’s a mixed-gender setting, students usually respect boundaries on certain topics. For me, it was another one of those “why is this such a big deal to them” things, but again, these are discussions the students just don’t often get the chance to have outside of the club. It’s really fun to see how much people will open up in the club. They absolutely love it, and tend to do it at least once a week. I think it’s the same phenomenon that happens when youth have a place to come together in the US. It’s just so important to youth to have a safe place, away from “adults” and other authority figures, just to talk.
Other than that, the club has “talent nights” where people can just come up to the front of the room and sing, or some students will put together little impromptu theatre pieces, and people will usually ask me to play the theme from Titanic again (yes my secret it out—though Tracey Chapman’s “Fast Car” is a new frequent request). Also, the club partners up with local organizations to do AIDS education training programs, or goes out to the countryside to do activities with youth in low-budget schools there.
This self-sustaining club situation is usually what every Youth Development Volunteer strives to achieve in 2 years here—and I’m walking into it from the beginning! Consequently, I often feel a bit useless (You mean you’re inviting ME to come help you do an AIDS workshop at the high school? Wait, I’m in the Peace Corps, isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?). However, I’ve enjoyed my role just being a part of the club and their activities. Plus, the whole goal of a Peace Corps project is to work yourself out of a job, and the last Volunteer pretty much did that for me (thanks Bart!). But there are still plenty of things that can be done in the club and in the rest of the city as well.
Most of all, my experience with the club continues to teach me a valuable lesson (a lesson a lot of Americans, and ESPECIALLY Peace Corps Volunteers, have a tough time with): The “developing world” is not sitting around wallowing in ignorance and self pity, waiting for brilliant white-folk with PhD’s to single handedly lift them out of their misery. First off, they’re not “miserable” (From what I’ve seen, there’s quite a low suicide rate, an odd lack of depressive disorders and “mid-life-crises,” and a perplexing frequency of general day-to-day life satisfaction when compared with the “developed” world). Plus they’re sharp, they’re socially active, they have great ideas, and they’re sure as heck putting them to use! True, funding is always needed (just like with social programs in the US!), and organizations here are always eager for skills-transfer and idea sharing. But that’s the key—it’s idea SHARING. They have fabulous programs here and great ideas already in place. Development is about honest partnership, not charity and self-gratification.
From what I’ve heard from other sorts of “development workers” here: When you go into a situation, eager to use your new ideas to help a place “develop,” you almost always come out having learned more than you taught, having been offered more than you had to offer, and ultimately having gotten more than you gave. When you work more as a partner than a “developer,” you quickly learn that you’re working alongside people—bright, driven PEOPLE people—you know the kind that eat, sleep, laugh, have families, get colds, think, and change the world. It’s laughable, but when you take a group like “Muslims,” stop reading about them, and start talking to them—people are almost disappointingly familiar. “Damn, I wanted to have a cultural experience, but there are all of these PEOPLE people around! Where are the anthropological things I read about in books? These people just LIVE man. They’re just like us and stuff—I’m outa here!” By the end, you’re finally working with people who are no longer just socio-economic statistics in your mind—and in the end—it turns out you’re the one who has been “developed.”