Sisyphus v. the Rock (also known as, this is a really long post...)

From just reading my blog, I think I've probably hinted at or directly said a couple of times that Peace Corps has been pretty challenging for me and in ways I didn't really expect (eg, turkish toilets are, in fact, not the end of the world). And if you like real life know me, then you've definitely heard every thought I've had about this experience. But, I've never actually come out in a public format and said I am hardcore struggling. And honestly, I am.

I had access to decent internet last week and some time to kill and ended up searching for blogs about volunteers that decided to ET (early terminate their service/quit). I promise I'm not quitting yet, but ever since I got back from America it's been in the back of my mind and every once in awhile the front too. Especially since the first thing I did when I landed in Morocco was look up job openings back in DC. Which luckily put everything into perspective. I still have no idea what I want to do with my life and I still kind of hate DC. Anyway, I was reading these blogs about volunteers that decided to quit, those that almost quit but didn't, and one about a guy who was medically separated for refusing to speak English once he got to country (dude was either brilliant or completely batty). And it really helped, just being able to read about what was going through other people's minds during the tough times of their service. So I thought I'd try being super honest and letting you all know what's really going on over here. Just in case there's another volunteer out there that's going through a rough patch and maybe googling how to get medically separated or maybe considering finally learning Tash so she can refuse to speak English and get sent home...

So here's what's really going on with me:
I have done no work. None. Part of this is my fault and part of it is Peace Corps fault. I had a last minute site placement with little to no development for a health volunteer and was put in a region where volunteers traditionally struggle with the community (ask other Moroccans and even they will tell you, people down here are tough). I also never leave my house. Part of this is just my personality and part is my community. Again, if you real life know me, you know I'm not an outgoing person. I don't invite myself into people's lives, which is kind of necessary to integrate into my community. But like I said, my community is tough. They're not particularly inviting to strangers and while never hostile to me, they also never invite me over for tea or meals, the keys to Moroccan integration.

Then there is the sexual harassment from men. It's always there even if it hasn't moved into assault. There are stares, guys crossing the street just to get a better look, cat calls, inappropriate questions/comments, and just general creeperness. This, I really haven't dealt with well at all. Sometimes I feel guilty about it. Like not having actually been assaulted, just harassed, means I have no right to be upset. I mean when you hear some of the horror stories other volunteers have been subjected to, it seems down right silly to complain about a little harassment. Other times I am so angry I literally shake with it. I mean what gives these guys the right?! I am covered, my hair is pulled back, I have no make-up on, I don't make eye contact, and still all they see is a Western whore. I'm pretty sure nothing in my life has made me as angry as that does sometimes. And as much as I'm not outgoing, I like to think I'm a pretty nice person. I like to smile and laugh and engage with people when they're nice to me. But here, with men, even little old men like my market owner (because I know he has sons), I have to hold back. Like if I smile too big or laugh too loudly at something it could be construed as an invitation for harassment. Which is ridiculous. Sometimes I feel like Morocco is stealing who I am.

And then there's Morocco itself. Sometimes it's hard to keep the motivation when you feel like all your work is for nothing, that all your blood, sweat, and tears for 27 months are really just you killing time. I think no matter how realistic or cynical the people in my training group claim to be (including me), we all at least had one moment before we left of how our service would go: we'd be in Africa, feeding starving children, seeing the difference we're making right before our very eyes. But that's not really Morocco. Obesity, high blood pressure, and diabetes are the problems here, not hunger. The work that needs to be done here, I think, needs to be done on an institutional level or with the kids --> which is thankfully what Peace Corps is moving to. That's not to say that work being done by current and previous volunteers isn't worth something, it's worth everything. But to me it's not the most effective way of helping. When you go into a community and try to teach nutrition and hygiene and the local doctor reuses needles and the nurse tells breast-feeding mothers to fast during Ramadan, you aren't going to be listened to. Of course, the people are going to listen to their respected professionals over a foreigner kid, fresh out of college, who isn't even married(!). So for some volunteers I think it feels like fighting a losing battle. When it comes to work in my site, I'm kind of conflicted. I don't really know what to do. I went to my clinic in the beginning, but they had no idea what to do with me and also didn't seem to really want to work with me. I explained what I could do and they sat me out in the lobby and shut their office doors. I've been waiting on the permission form I turned in in July to get processed so I can start working in the schools, but as far as I know that still hasn't happened. So I'm heading to the local school this week to see if they'll let me in anyway. Other than that, I still haven't really done anything. Sometimes I blame myself and sometimes I blame Peace Corps. I'm not sure if it's my fault for not being more in my community's face or Peace Corps' fault for putting me in a site where people are kind of like "ehhh... whatever".

Basically this has all led to a kind of sucky couple of months. I don't want to quit Peace Corps, but I can't help thinking that I'm maybe just wasting my time. That instead of struggling over here for another 18 months, I could be back home, going to school, seeing my friends, working, doing something. But I'm also scared I haven't given it my all here yet, that'd I have so many regrets if I went home now. And thanks to Peace Corps and their many hand-outs, I know this is the point of service where morale is generally lowest. Everything I've described above is apparently pretty typical for volunteers to be feeling at the 8-12 month mark. I wish I could say what's keeping me here, but I think it's only not being able to make a concrete decision about leaving or staying right now. That and the other volunteers in Morocco. There's some amazing people over here and a real sense of community and support that you don't see often. So I'm giving myself until mid-December to see how I feel and then if nothing's changed I plan on talking to Peace Corps and seeing if maybe I'd be better off in a different site. I'm not sure I have a case for it, but we'll see. Until then, I'm going to keep reading trashy romance novels, re-watching Indiana Jones (hello, new fictional boyfriend), and killing the earwigs (EWW!) and spiders that have taken over my apartment. And luckily December should go by pretty quickly, I've got IST (In-Service Training) on the coast near Rabat and Christmas in Madrid to look forward to. And then, of course, there's the Bandy in January. So good things too.

"The struggle itself...is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." - Albert Camus

Eight Months in Lmaghrib:

A few things: one, I've been in country exactly eight months now (that's practically a third of the way through!), my new computer has some faaaancy software and posting pictures is way easier than coming up with an actual post with you know, words and stuff, and I maybe have insomnia.

Anyway, enjoy some pics from my first eight months in Morocco! 

In which Alisa explains her service in the form of song:

I just posted this on my facebook, but I don't want to forget about it so I'm posting it here too. It's hilarious, awesome, and also completely true. Kind of nice to know that every volunteer feels this way.

You're gonna poop in a hooooooollleeee...

PS

I'm also back from my trip to the USA. I don't think I'm going to blog about it because just recalling all the awesomeness that is America hurts my heart.

In which Alisa makes a list of all the things she's going to do in MERIKA:

In just two short days I will officially be back on American soil and I am soooo excited. God bless you, Britany Skipper and your wedding, for getting me back home. :)

So here's a list of all the things I've been daydreaming about doing once I get home:

1. Showering without a bucket, but with constant hot water and water pressure. 
2. Finally getting all the shampoo out of my hair.
3. Washing my clothes in a washing machine and not just swirling them around in a tub of soapy water.
4. Walking around at night and not being considered a prostitute.
5. Walking around with guys and not being considered their prostitute.
6. Not being considered a prostitute.
7. EATING BACON.
8. EATING SOME MORE BACON.
9. Drinking in public and not feeling the least bit of shuma (shame).
10. Wearing real clothes (assuming my parents can ever find them, yes, I'm looking at you, Mother) and not bled clothes.
11. Driving a car.
12. Having a drink with ice in it. It's been 7 months since I've had ice.
13. Talking to people and having them understand what I say.
14. Using a western toilet.
15. Not having to check my sheets for cockroaches or camel spiders before I go to bed.

America is going to be AMAZING.

PS

So I don't really talk much about what's going on over here. I know that. But it's mainly because there's not a lot going on yet. I'm hoping once I get back from the States I'll be able to start teaching in the schools and will have more interesting things to say. Until then I can tell you about one of the more positive experiences I've had lately. 

I went into Tafraoute (my "big" city, where my post office and bank, etc. are) to keep my site-mate company until his bus to Fes came. I was wandering around and went into a store for a local Argan cooperative to look for souvenirs for all of y'all and met the nicest lady. For people in other regions of Morocco, I realize this experience will be pretty common, but for down South it's downright rare. Anyway, my site-mate and I introduced ourselves and spoke a little Tashelheit and that got the lady started. Then my site-mate left to check on his bus and I stayed with the lady and she had a full on conversation with me (not just "Hi, How are you, Are you fine?" which is normally all you get down here). She showed me how to crack Argan nuts and laughed at how bad I was at it, imitated a goat so I would know what kind of animals ate the nuts (side-note: this is one of my absolute favorite things about Moroccans. As long as you don't get a "Walu! Tsnt walu! (Nothing! You know nothing!)" person, Moroccans will generally go above and beyond to make sure you understand them, even so much as making what Americans would generally consider a fool of themselves, but for people with less than stellar language skills (like me) it's the farthest thing from foolish and beyond appreciated.), and promised me she would teach me Tashelheit anytime I wanted. Unfortunately, she doesn't speak a lick of English, so I'm not so sure that's going to work out, but she still made my week. 

From five star to five dollar...

Before I joined Peace Corps I used to work for an awesome non-profit in DC. Most of my time was spent doing leftover finance and event planning work for a scholarship program that was building a pretty exciting university in the Middle East. This meant I got to travel a lot. And in style. There were business class and sometimes first class (I somehow managed to get bumped a few times) plane rides, five star hotels, and fancy food. There was also absolutely no sleep, crazy stress from doing my best not to get screamed at by our nutty counterparts, and so many damn boxes that needed lugging across continents. Now I stay at five dollar hotels, pick bugs out of my salad and keep on going, and cram myself into taxis and souk buses (sometimes with cockroaches). But I've also actually had the time to see and enjoy some of the most beautiful sunsets, experience the genuine kindness of people I can barely communicate with, and to truly appreciate all the little things I never did before.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, other than it's funny how life can change so drastically and how easily we can adapt to anything. Maybe that's one of the big lessons I'm supposed to learn from this experience.