Rachidia Still

I have finally sat down to tell a bit about what I am doing, where I am, and how I got here.

I left Azrou the other day in a bus for Rachidia. I had planned on stopping over in the town of Midelt, but upon consulting the guide book, I decided that Midelt had little to offer, and that I preferred to go straight on to this town.

The drive here was incredible--a constantly changing landscape that swung like a pendulum between the extremes for which this country is famous. Verdant landscapes of crops and grassy hills were followed suddenly by rocky, hot, dusty terrain. Just as suddenly, mountains came in to view, and the contrast between the hot country of the low altitude and the snows of the mountaintops was stunning.

In truth, it was a terrible ride--all bumps and vibrations, the inside of the bus hot, stuffy, and filled with noxious fumes. The view, however, more than made up for the wretched travel conditions, and I truly enjoyed the ride.



Arriving in Rachidia, I took a "grand taxi" out the "suburbs" (which are all called "ksar")to meet my friends. Everyone in the taxi looked at me is if I were crazy, unable to comprehend why I would possibly want to head out to the suburbs of Rachidia. Rachidia itself is a strange destination for a foreigner. The suburbs are even stranger.



I have been busy these last few days, visiting with old friends, swimming at the local natural spring (La source bleu de Meski), walking through the oasis at the edge of town.

I have been sleeping at Driss's house, and his family has been so incredibly welcoming and generous. Every time I turn around, someone seems to be giving me a gift or forcing food down my throat, asking if I need anything. They are amazing, and very helpful as well in helping me to learn Darija, the local Arabic dialect. Driss's parents and sisters speak no French at all, so our conversations are quite limited, but I am quickly learning, with the help of Driss and his brothers, words and phrases that help me to communicate, and day by day I speak more (but still, in the scheme of things, very little).

My language learning has been, I hope, something of a good time for them as well, as every time I open my mouth, the entire room (no matter where I am) laughs until I am afraid that they will piss themselves. I believe that I destroy Arabic with the best of them.

This is not to say that I speak all that badly for a foreigner. It is, in fact, quite rare for any foreigner to speak Darija, and so I believe that people here appreciate my interest and my modest attempts. Still, it is a very difficult language, filled with strange and complicated sounds (one letter here is often described as the sound of someone being strangled, and another is basically a strange "k" noise pronounced at the back of the throat).

I have also spent a great deal of time with Abdou's family, with whom I stayed the last time that I was here. It is very interesting to see the way in which Abdou relates to the community, and he is a very good person to know, I believe. He is currently training to be a nurse, and so is very active with a number of health-related organizations here, providing vaccinations, hygiene awareness, and the like. He is also involved, through these contacts, with other organizations and associations, and yesterday I had the opportunity to visit a local women's cooperative with him.


These local women, with the assistance of a couple of Peace Corps volunteers, are working to market their handicrafts and art as a way to supplement household income and preserve artistic traditions of the community. Their work is beautiful, and they seem to be doing quite a bit to advance their cause.

Today, in fact, I will visit another local cooperative with Abdou, as we have been invited by one of the women involved in the association here in Ksar El Barrani.

In general, things are great here. Similar to last time, I must occasionally demand (very subtly and gently) a bit of autonomy, as Moroccan custom would not have me spend any time alone at all. Moroccans seem to always be together, and even such solo endeavors as writing emails are group activities here. Unfortunately, my own upbringing and culture has made me unable to handle such constant and close proximity to people, and so I occasionally go a bit crazy with the desire to spend some time alone. So far, though, it has been good, and everyone has been very understanding of my strange and foreign customs.

Not much more to report at the moment, as it is difficult to tell all that I am doing and experiencing here in short period of time, but I will write more soon. For now, I have included above a short video of the beginning of the bus ride here, as well as a couple of photos. One is of the internet cafe that I use here in town, one is of Driss's mother.

Only more three more weeks here in Morocco, as on the 21st I must be in Lisbon to meet Ellen at the airport.

More soon. I hope that all are well.