Of Course We Don't Do That! We're Volunteers!

[This was published in the winter edition of the Morocco Peace Corps quarterly PeaceWorks. I thought this issue was pressing enough to bring to the attention of the whole community. Again, the point of this is to promote a discussion about the issues and to illustrate that at times, Americans are not innocents abroad. Particularly, liberal-minded Americans. ]

 

 

I read an interesting quote in a New Yorker article a while back. It involved the Jena 6 trial and used the case as lens to look at the larger race and justice issues of our society. The author wrote that blacks are incarcerated at higher rates than whites “in states where people of color are rare, including a few states that are liberal, prosperous, and not a little self-satisfied,” and thus think they are move evolved on such issues. I call it the “Clutch the pearls and say ‘That would never happen in New York/D.C./Boston, etc’ indignation at racism and discrimination and just outlandish antics”. It was particularly poignant because in the Peace Corps community I feel there is this same sense. There is a sentiment of because we are Peace Corps Volunteers we are immune to such issues and never do things like that! It does happen on the East Coast and it does happen among Volunteers.

The hope of Peace Corps, besides accomplishing the three goals, is to see and understand how another people live, think and experience the world. Indeed, it may be the greatest part of our service. It also means in order to truly understand another people we have to first understand who we are and what we think. It requires a level of self-reflection and introspection that at times, I fear, is lacking in the Peace Corps community.

            (Before resentment occurs or the comments “Who does he thinks he is?” start let me clarify a couple points: one, these comments come not only from my own observations but from conversations with various Volunteers; two, I also have lacked reflection. I was asked to write this piece to promote dialogue.)

            What do I mean by “self-reflection and introspection”? I mean the need to question our assumptions about other people, to analyze our constructions and generalizations about a group of people. Plain and simple I am talking about prejudice, discrimination, lack of responsibility and disrespect to Moroccans.

I had an example to use from something many people experienced. But why risk embarrassing people and closing off avenues of dialogue. I think such an example only makes it easier for us to say “We think about our actions. Obviously those people were not” and to think “we’ll never be like that.” I am sure the people in this situation (and other infamous ones) also felt the same way.

The point large examples make can be made by numerous everyday comments and actions. Comments like “that is so Berber” when speaking about an instance involving cheapness, conniving, or down right meanness. Explaining everything that is bad as “Moroccan” or everything that is uncomfortable as “Moroccan”. Saying “dirty Moroccan men”; rudely ignoring people who say hello to you using your real name; looks of apprehension and disgust towards all brown men (such looks are apparent when compared to the immediate change in expression when the Volunteer learns that this brown person is actually another PCV). Or, PCVs putting themselves in risky situations (wondering around major urban areas late at night and intoxicated) and falling victim to a bad person with bad motives, but instead of extrapolating from the instance the need to own more of our personal safety and ask “Would I do this in Florence at 4 am? New York? Paris? London? KANSAS CITY?” we judge the entire population—the entire spectrum of Moroccan men—and not the horrible and unfortunate situation.

            What does this mean? What does this list of examples illustrates? In my mind, maladaptive behaviors—outright racist behaviors among the PCV community toward each other, and more importantly, to the people of the country we should be serving. Frustration is understandable; having a bad day or week is understandable. It is definitely understandable to vent to one another—this is a difficult and demanding job. Yet, when the negative begins to cloud people’s perceptions and attitudes to such an extent offensive actions are allowed to continue unchecked, shouldn’t we ask “why are you still here?” Isn’t better for both the person’s own emotional and physical well-being and for the greater whole of Peace Corps for the person to reflect on why he/she is here?

            Why is it okay in Morocco we can make assumptions and say offensive comments about an entire country of men based on the experiences with a few (even though harassment is a serious issue, we must remember how context and perception influence situations)? In the states, if someone said “I hate all black men,” or “Latino men just don’t respect women; they are just dirty and sexist,” we would call those comments what they are, take away the “Yes We Can!” button, and kick her out of the Obama rally.

            Why is it okay in Morocco to openly berate and insult hotel workers, waiters, cab drivers, or shop owners because we are having a bad day or because we didn’t like the “way he was talking to me”? In the states we’d call someone who acts like this a jack ass.

            Why is it okay in Morocco when projects and work are not going as well as we like to make such generalizations as “Ugh, Moroccans! They don’t get it; they just don’t want to work,” and attempts at understanding are brushed away. Or, instead of realizing sometimes individual Moroccans, like all individuals, have the potential to be mean and rude we hear “Moroccans are jerks!” A simple chuckle greats such comments when the depth of that international relations degree the person has should be called into question.

            Why is it okay to assume a sense of entitlement and colonial attitude—yes, colonial—with and towards the people we are serving? Why do we allow a bizarre type of cultural arrogance to affect our experiences here?

            These issues on their own are not what I and others are concerned about. It’s when you take them in concert with other attitudes, actions, and examples that something truly alarming begins to arise: a sense of freedom for blanket statements, rude actions, and immunity from questions about attitude, responsibility, and perceptions.

            This article might cause agitation among Volunteers. Good. Like all movement, learning cannot occur without friction. I welcome the conversations. I hope we can all work towards a better reflection and understanding of who we are, how we are and why we are in Morocco.

Our work depends on it.

Ramadan Part Duex

[September 7^th, 2008]

Again, it is Ramadan. It began this week and already it seems like it has been the month of fasting for weeks! No exaggeration. It is hard to walk through a desert town shopping and running errands without the chance to eat or drink water. Although I am not fasting it is rude to appear in public and eat or drink, so whenever I prepare to leave my house I chug a whole bunch of water and head out and hope I don’t get too tired or sick. Thankfully, this Ramadan and last year’s, fall during the end of summer when things begin to cool down. Since Islamic holidays are based on the lunar calendar ever year they move up the Gregorian calendar by about two weeks. Soon, Ramadan will go down in the summer. Lhumdullah I will not be here for that.

Ramadan is a fun time, however. It is exciting to be living in a Muslim country during their holiest month. Knowing that everyone is fasting and that at sundown everyone in Morocco is breaking fast is a truly wonderful experience. When I do accept breakfast invitations it is nice to sit in anticipation for the dusk prayer call and all the men and boys head to the mosque and come back and everyone eats. Then there is a lull as everyone digests the hastily consumed breakfast food and wait for dinner to be ready around 11 or 12 pm. Of course, I hardly ever stay for dinner. It is too late (and since I haven’t fasted, I don’t need the extra food!) and I head home to finish up some studying or work and then go to bed.

One thing which is ever present during Ramadan is the question “Is tazumt?” Are you fasting? “No,” I respond, “I am not Muslim.” Then so goes the conversation about why not? You should be? You will go to heaven DIRECT if you fast and become Muslim. This type of questioning usually comes from the boys ages 12 to 20-ish. The older people and women just seem not to care; or at least understand not everyone is going to be like them. But more than likely they try to convert me in more subtle ways then a direct assault.

I found that this year I am getting less lfdr (breakfast) invitations. Probably because I tell people I don’t fast. Or maybe I am just not as much as a novelty as I was last year. I think it is a combination of the two, and it makes me happy. I feel integrated when people forget about me. That means I am just another person living in their community (albeit a crazy foreigner who chooses to live here). I was recently at a party of men and experienced my first snub! At first I was somewhat upset, and then I realized: you have to be integrated to be snubbed! I was sitting in the circle of men which goes around the room (all parties are just a big circle of men staring at one another and every now and then pockets of conversation) and when someone new walks it is customary for him to go around the room shaking hands and saying “salaam 3ulikum”. Well, this man, my neighbor who I had a run in with a few weeks before, came to me and said “Bonjour.” I immediately corrected him, saying “good evening” since it was the evening, not the morning. Hopefully he felt embarrassed.

I went home later that night in a cloud of rose perfume (which they spray on everyone at the end of a part) happy that I had been rudely greeted. I felt at home.

A good start to Ramadan.

The North--A Short Update

It has been a while, and so I thought I would write just a little update on my life. I am preparing more, I swear!

I just returned from a vacation throughout Morocco. Once again I made it to probably my favorite area of Morocco: the Rif Mountains and the Mediterranean. Although I have yet to meet a city that I don’t like in Morocco—and I truly am always amazed and fall in love with nearly every city in Morocco I have visited—there is something quite wonderful about the North (and I include in this designation Rabat and the coast from Tangier to Oujda): the scenery, the people, the cities and their character, the language, the history, and, as always, the climate.

Escaping from the south and its oppressive heat is always a vacation. But to also once again see the dynamism and diversity of the Moroccan landscape and culture can make me remember that I am blessed to be living and working in such a wonderful country and with such interesting people. This is helpful, especially on the return to my site, because I gain more appreciation for my own village and community I serve.

On this little trek with some other volunteers I returned to Fez, Meknes, and Al Hociema and visited the cities of Nador and the Spanish enclave of Melilla for the first time. Al Hociema, I dare say, might be one of my favorite places on earth. Nestled in a patch of the Rif Mountains that allows for beaches, Al Hociema is everything one would think when they hear “the Southern Mediterranean”. With clear, blue water, wonderful sun, and a place fit for holiday-makers, I don’t think I can ever pass up an opportunity to return there. I went in June and thought “this will only get better as the summer progresses”. And it did. What is especially great about it is that it is a Moroccan tourist destination. It has yet to be discovered by European travelers, something I feel like is probably one of my least favorite parts of traveling Morocco. Spanish, British, German, and most French tourists in guided tours on SUVs driving too fast on narrow roads nearly killing Berber children are not cool. Plus, they are rude.

Yes, it was nice to be away for a while, to see other people, and to go out and have a good time far removed from the heat of my site and the everydayness of my “ingrains” (fields) and day-to-day life of rural people everywhere. But, that being said, it is good to be home.