It’s hard to keep up with the times in Morocco. I’ve had to reset my clocks no less than four times since arriving in March. Daylight savings can be confusing under the best of circumstances, and Morocco is not ideal. When daylight savings occurred in April, I was informed that many, although not all, Moroccans ignore the time change. As a result, you have to ask someone if they follow new time or old time, new time being the hour according to daylight savings and old time being the previous way of telling time.
For the month of Ramadan, Morocco reverted to old time—shorter days were best for a month of fasting. When the holiday ended, the country jumped back ahead to new time, but only for a month because daylight savings struck again at the end of September. So the question on everyone’s mind: What time is it now? Apparently new time and old time only exist during the summer months, and thus for now, we are just on time.
So suddenly it’s October, my clocks have been set back, and I’ve returned to site after over a month on the road. I find it’s very difficult to carve out time to write when I travel. I’m usually with other PCVs, and the precious social time usually trumps my desire to write on a regular basis. I don’t particularly like summarizing my activities—I think it makes for dull writing—so I will keep this recap brief. Well, I will be as concise as possible, considering I have traveled to five cities since the end of Ramadan; however, neither of my trips to Rabat or Mohammedia warrants attention.
Ouarzazate was my favorite city—it has a quieter, Midwest quality, so it feels a bit like home. The city is bathed in warm colors, dusty plateaus interspersed with green palmeries. Walking is a pleasant activity because harassment is not as trendy in the south. I also found affordable, delicious goat cheese at a local grocery store—obviously a highlight. I spent one week learning Tamazight, one of the many Berber languages in Morocco. Foum Oudi is a Berber town, and while everyone speaks Darija, nothing delights them more than my fumbling attempts to communicate in Tamazight.
I loved Tangier for its literary significance. The American Legion Museum has a two-room exhibit dedicated to Paul Bowles. And while I don’t proclaim to be a great fan of his work, I still geek out in the presence of faded drafts and worn-out typewriters. More than his writing, I’m impressed by his work as an ethnomusicologist; he was commissioned by the Library of Congress in 1959 to record traditional Moroccan music. There was also an English library, established with help of Peace Corps Volunteers in the 1990s. Libraries are still one of my favorite places to spend time, and after everyone was ready to move on, I could have spent the afternoon thumbing through copies of Austen, Dillard, or Pound.
Marrakesh marked the passage of six months in country and three months in Foum Oudi. After three months in site, Peace Corps hosts a week-long training for volunteers—all 100 of us gathered just outside of Marrakesh to share stories and sit through various meetings. The array of sessions included anything from teacher trainings to health briefings, and while generally informative and even motivating, they could not compare to the revitalizing effect of our simple reunion.
I never expected to have the opportunity to see so much of Morocco so soon. And while I know my experiences at camps and knowledge gained from trainings will benefit my community, I’m relieved to be back in Foum Oudi. My Dar Chabab is finally open after being closed all summer, and local students have started asking when English classes will start. And my classes are just the beginning—there is much to be done. Luckily, I still have plenty of time.
Published December 2, 2012
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