"Sometimes you have to stop towing the line and start drawing one instead"

So far, I’ve written a lot about my work. I’ve written a little about my travels, and about what life as a PCV is like in general. But I’ve left out a big, glaring piece of life in Morocco, a piece that many PCVs struggle with throughout their service: Harassment.

There’s a reason I haven’t yet touched on this issue. I’ve been reluctant to write about it, because I’m not sure how to adequately describe the phenomenon in a way that is both honest and contextualized. Harassment runs rampant in Morocco for complex cultural reasons, and I don’t want to summarize it poorly and wind up giving people a false analysis. In fact, I’ve tried writing a post about it on numerous occasions, and every time I’ve only wound up frustrated and unable to write anything. So I’ll skip the analysis and the dozens of other things I’d like to write about this issue, and just tell you this: Morocco has a harassment problem. It happens in the streets, in schools, in workplaces, in markets. It happens to women young and old, dressed traditionally and modernly, foreign and Moroccan, married and unmarried. Sometimes it’s a leering, almost threatening stare; other times, it’s a hiss, a catcall in French, a bad word. And sometimes, it’s getting followed or even grabbed in the street.

Last winter, some specific events brought the issue of harassment in my site into sharp focus, and encouraged an open dialogue between myself, my mudir (the Dar Chebab director), and the girls in my Dar Chebab about the issue.

Every Sunday, the Dar Chebab girls’ soccer team gets together and practices on the field next to the middle school. Every now and then (when there are no boys playing), we have access to the field itself, but usually we are relegated to the dirt patch on the side of the field while the boys play on the main field. My mudir says that it isn’t because they’re girls, but rather because the municipality runs the field, and the boys’ teams are signed up on the schedule to play during that time. But when, logically, I’ve tried convincing my mudir to go with me to the municipality to get the girls on the schedule, he’s given me a litany of excuses which make the real reason for the exclusion apparent. But perhaps worse than the space issue is the harassment the girls – ages ranging from 8 to 15 years old – receive when we play. They get taunted by their classmates when we walk past the boys sitting near the entrance. They get mocked by older boys playing soccer while they’re trying to play. And a few times, they’ve even had dirty things said to them by older men walking by (the girls refused to tell me what they’d said, but I can infer based on their embarrassed faces). And the other men on the field – the coaches, the parents, even the police standing nearby? They do nothing. They watch from 5 feet away as their sons taunt and harass young girls. They watch as their teammates catcall or mock teenaged girls who are just trying to play the same sport they are. And even when asked to do something, they shrug their shoulders, deny that it happened (even though it JUST happened, in plain sight, 30 seconds before), or worst of all, they join in the mocking.

One day, I had a conversation (which later turned into a heated debate) with my mudir about addressing the issue of harassment on the soccer field. We had just gotten harassed by an entire group of young boys on our walk into the field, while the boys’ fathers sat by and watched. I was asking him to acknowledge the fact that the girls and I regularly get harassed on the field, and to take some bystander intervention steps to address the issue. He argued with me about it, and we ended up entering into a long debate about the causes of harassment, its frequency, the effects it has on girls and society as a whole, and ways that the community can act to bring about its end. A key point that I made sure to repeatedly emphasize to him was that part of the reason it continues with such ferocity is that the men in boys' lives - their fathers, brothers, teachers, coaches, etc - don't teach them otherwise; far too often, men stand by and watch as their sons, students, and neighbors harass young girls, rather than teaching them that it is wrong and offering an alternative. We ended the argument on good terms, and though I didn't convince him of my viewpoint, I know that our conversation at least made him think critically about an issue he likely rarely thinks about.

After the above conversation, I wasn't sure how my girls would react. They had heard the whole thing, since it had taken place on the soccer field, and I wasn't sure if they agreed with what I said or even thought it was as big a deal as I did. After all, I've heard stories from other PCVs about Moroccan girls acting cavalier about harassment, whether to paint a positive picture of Morocco or because they simply didn't take it very hard. I was worried that they'd been looking on during the argument, shaking their heads and wondering when we were going to get on with soccer practice. Later, though, as two of the girls walked me home, I found that my fears were unfouded: Not only did the girls find what I'd said relevant, but they also agreed with everything I'd said, especially the part about the reasons harassment continues. For the entire walk home, it was like a floodgate had been opened, and they talked rapidly, sharing with me all of their opinions about harassment and all the times they'd seen their boy family members be let off easily for bad behavior while girls received stricter treatment. They also shared with me several personal accounts of the harassment they'd experienced, and what I heard shocked me, though perhaps it shouldn't have. These girls are only 10 and 11 years old, and both of them told stories of being harassed in the street, at school, at our summer day camp last year, and even at the Dar Chebab, on a regular basis. What shocked me wasn't so much the harassment per se (since I know how common it is), but the fact that so many of their stories were about things that happened at the Dar Chebab, right there under my nose. Boys mocking them, making fun of them, saying bad words to them, pulling their hair - and I'd had no idea that it was happening. My Dar Chebab is extremely unique in that girls represent an overwhelming majority of those attending - a phenomena that is rare across Morocco. I had thought that, since girls basically ran the show, they would be facing little to no harassment in the safe space of the Dar Chebab. I was wrong, though. When I asked them why they never told the mudir about it, they responded that they knew he wouldn't understand, and pointed to our argument as further proof that he was out of touch. In fact, they said that when they had told him about it once before, he'd shrugged his shoulders and told them that the Dar Chebab was open to anyone, and so he had no authority to reprimand the boys or kick them out. My heart broke at the fact that they'd been experiencing harassment in a space where they're supposed to feel safe, and that they had little to no faith in the director of that space to be their ally. I assured them that no matter what, no matter where they were or what they were doing, nobody had the right to treat them badly, to harass them, or to make them feel inferior. I urged them to come to me with any concerns they had, and to tell me if any boy harassed them in any way at the Dar Chebab, so that I could talk to the mudir and put an end to it. They didn't seem convinced that we could put a stop to it, but they did seem utterly relieved and glad to have someone to talk to, a person with some degree of authority who understood and was finally on their side.

After that conversation, it was obvious that the lines of communication between myself and the girls had been opened widely. I had several occasions where girls asked me to enforce a fair sharing policy with the basketball court or ping pong table, when boys have refused to let the girls play. I also had several open conversations with girls about issues they face and opinions they have, about everything from harassment to gender roles to violence in school to drugs in school. Though I'd spent almost a year with these girls, playing soccer, teaching English, leading activities, etc, it took that conversation with my mudir to open the door to full, honest discussion with them about difficult topics. I think they needed to see me defending them, standing up for an issue that mattered to them and refusing to back down, for them to feel fully comfortable in sharing their thoughts with me. Though its difficult hearing that such young girls face these kinds of problems in their daily lives, I feel a greater sense of purpose in my service knowing that I can serve as an ally, mentor, and sounding board to them during such formative years of their lives.

The conventional wisdom I’ve heard amongst PCVs and many members of Peace Corps staff is that female PCVs should generally keep quiet and ignore harassment, that developing internal coping strategies is a better approach than fighting such a broad social phenomena externally, where the battle is sure to be lost. My experience, however, has taught me the opposite: that at some point, you have to stop towing the line and draw one instead. I have learned that while standing up to harassment won't bring broad social change overnight, being a strong role model and fierce ally for the girls at your Dar Chebab is a valuable thing to do, and can have more positive impact than you realize. When I stood up to my mudir and demanded a response to harassment, I didn't realize that I would be sparking a wave of open dialogue between the girls of my Dar Chebab about harassment; I didn't realize that I would be opening the door for girls to share their experiences and finally feel understood by someone they look up to. But all of these things and more have happened as a result of that one conversation, and would not have happened otherwise. Had I not argued with my mudir that day, had I backed down and yielded to his assertions that harassment is inevitable, I would have been perpetuating the culture of silence that leaves girls feeling isolated and ultimately enables harassment to continue. I may not be on my way to changing an entire culture, and the harassment in my town will surely continue through my service and after I leave, but I am happy knowing that I've provided an outlet, some support, and some guidance to at least a few girls in my town. 

And that beats silence any day.

Souss Girls' Soccer Camp 2013

For a girl who wants to play soccer in rural Morocco, the opportunities are very slim. Though soccer is the national sport in Morocco, loved and watched by all, playing the sport remains almost entirely in the realm of men and boys. That’s largely because girls’ sports, especially girls’ soccer, are viewed in most of Morocco as anywhere from a waste of time at best, to inappropriate and even shameful at worst. It’s not that girls don’t want to play soccer – ask any young girl here and she’ll tell you – but that their attempts to do so are too often thwarted, by everything from lack of supportive adults, lack of team opportunities, cultural pressures, lack of supplies, harassment, and more.

In an effort to remedy all this, a number of PCVs in Morocco have started or helped bolster existing girls’ soccer clubs/teams in their sites. At a brainstorming session during a regional meeting in October, a number of us recognized the need for bolstering girls’ soccer on a region-wide level, through some sort of collaborative activity that would increase soccer skills, bring together like-minded girls, and provide positive role models for young girl soccer players. We wanted a way for the girls to feel supported and empowered in standing up to a culture that frowned upon their soccer playing, on a much broader scale than any single PCV could accomplish. A few minutes of conversation later, the idea for the Souss Girls’ Soccer Camp was born.



The Beginning

Our first few months working to organize the camp were rough, despite initial support from local officials. After months of waiting for an answer, the Ministry of Youth and Sports denied our request for securing a field and lodging, despite a longstanding relationship with Peace Corps in coordinating camps for youth. Our counterparts at the delegation dropped out after that piece of bad news, and we were left frantically searching for community partners and a space to hold the camp with only a few months to go until the planned dates of the camp. The breakthrough occurred when we contacted Intilaqa, a local association focused on youth activities that works in the town of a nearby volunteer. Intilaqa agreed to partner with us, and soon they had secured both the field and the Dar Talib next door for housing during the camp. They helped with all elements of camp planning and implementation from that point forward, from logistics to staff to Arabic translation.

Around the same time we were looking for space, I contacted AMJAD, the women’s professional soccer team based in nearby Taroudant. From the very first meeting I had with AMJAD, sitting in a circle on their soft turf field after their Friday practice, they were enthusiastic about the idea and fully willing to help. From that point onward, I was continually amazed by AMJAD’s trusting, enthusiastic, no-questions-asked commitment to help with the camp. It was clear that they were invested in the success of the camp and of our region-wide girls’ soccer initiative. Still, I was surprised when, after asking for an estimate of the number of girls they’d be bringing to the camp, they responded that they’d like to bring the ENTIRE team. I was floored; I’d expected a hesitant number, perhaps 5 or 6, and they’d offered the entire 18 person team! In the end, it was ME that had to dial it back, as we only had space for around 10 coaches in the camp facility. After that meeting, I knew for sure that AMJAD would be solid support for the camp, and when we finally began a few months later, I saw just how amazing AMJAD would truly be.

Some of the girls of AMJAD and their coaches

The Campers Arrive

The 48 campers who participated were from 4 burgeoning soccer teams from 4 small PCV sites in the region – Tafraoute, Ikhorbane, Temsia, and my site. – with each town bringing 11-14 girls to the camp. Some girls had a decent amount of soccer experience, and had even played as part of a team before, while others were just starting out as soccer players. Some girls were more confident than others, and some came from more conservative or liberal families than others. Some had soccer outfits and good shoes to play in, while others were making due with what little they had. What all the girls had in common, though, was a strong desire to play soccer, and a general lack of opportunities for them to play in their communities.

Our camp banner at the entrance

The camp was 6 days long, beginning with the girls’ arrival on Sunday afternoon and ending with the girls' departure the following Saturday morning. We had the full-sized soccer stadium of Temsia reserved for our use for the week, as well as the Dar Talib (boarding house) next door, where the girls ate and slept. Each day started out with morning soccer training on the field followed by a workshop on soccer strategy, both led by AMJAD. The afternoons consisted of a health workshop lead by PCVs, followed by a second training on the field, and some free time for the girls. In the evenings, the counselors put together various fun activities for the girls, such as games, songs, talent shows, etc.

The Coaches

Although the girls seemed to enjoy all of the activities, it was clear that AMJAD’s contribution was by far the most successful part of the camp. AMJAD brought 9 of their players and 2 of their coaches to lead the soccer training and strategy portion of the camp. Although we knew they would be great as coaches for the girls, our expectations were blown away when we saw how animated, enthusiastic, and creative they were throughout the camp. The soccer training sessions they led were incredibly organized and well-run: The field was divided up into 4 mini-fields, one for each of the 4 groups of girls we had at the camp. AMJAD split up amongst the 4 groups, giving each group 2-3 AMJAD players to act as their coaches throughout the week. Each training session consisted of warm-ups, calisthenics, and drills to focus on specific skills, such as passing, control, shooting, etc. AMJAD also brought all of their gear with them, so the trainings were complete with plenty of balls, cones, pinnies, nets, etc. They were serious, thorough, realistic soccer trainings – the first that most of the girls at the camp had ever been a part of. It was such an inspiring sight to finally see the girls and their soccer skills taken seriously by a group of people, especially in such a conservative region that consistently frowns upon girls’ sports in general and girls’ soccer in particular.

AMJAD's captain leading a workshop on soccer strategy

Though they were serious coaches on the field, AMJAD could always be found singing, drumming, starting chants, joking, and generally having a blast with the girls after practices, during free time, at meals, and in any other spaces in-between. Though they’d never done it before, it turned out they were natural camp leaders and youth developers! The girls quickly fell in love with AMJAD, as evidenced by the applause and chants of “Olay AMJAD Olay!” the girls greeted them with any time they walked into a room. In addition to being great coaches and friends, it was clear that the AMJAD players were role models to the girls, most of whom had never before met a woman who played sports professionally. In fact, one of the sessions the girls were the most excited about was on the first night of camp, when the AMJAD players hosted an open question and answer session with the girls about soccer, their lives, and women’s soccer in Morocco. It was clear that the girls loved the chance to get to know and pick the brains of women who had not only gone against the norm and played soccer, but had gone so far as to do it professionally.

AMJAD taking questions from the girls

A few girls with their AMJAD coach for the week

One of the many spontaneous dance parties AMJAD started throughout the week

A Deeper Meaning

As I watched the girls on the field, dressed in color-coordinated pinnies, concentrating on weaving their balls through cones, the constant encouragement of their AMJAD coaches nearby, I couldn’t help but think about the stark contrast with the soccer practices we hold in my site: Though it is an accomplishment that we play at all, we are sadly relegated to the weed- and rock-covered side field next to the main field; we only have 1 ball, which my mudir neglects to properly inflate 50% of the time; we have no cones, pinnies, or nets, and make due with rocks for goal posts. All of this goes on while the boys play next to us on the main field, decked out in uniforms and with multiple balls, nets, whistles, everything they need. On top of it all, the girls and I frequently get harassed and mocked while we play, by young boys and grown men alike, who apparently aren’t comfortable with the idea of girls playing soccer at all, even if on a disheveled side field with no equipment. The entire scene sends a strong message to the girls: you are not welcome here. You are not taken seriously, especially not as soccer players. Nobody cares. Week after week, that scene has broken my heart. But that week, at the Souss Girls Soccer camp, with AMJAD coaches, a full field, equipment, and serious training sessions, the girls were finally given the opposite message: We take you seriously. We care about you. We want to see you play well. We want to see you have fun. You matter. And that simple fact illustrated the entire reason why this camp was worthwhile – and about more than just soccer.

Some of the girls celebrating with their coaches after winning a match

The Health Factor

We filled the time during the afternoon heat with a series of health workshops organized by PCVs. The first, led by Emily and John, focused on nutrition and exercise. The girls learned about the food groups, talked about the food pyramid, and played games to test their knowledge. The second was led by ALCS, a Moroccan HIV/AIDS awareness organization, who brought 3 women in to talk to the girls in a culturally appropriate way. I led the 3rd workshop, which was about self-esteem and societal standards of beauty. The girls talked about how they felt when they looked at themselves in the mirror, how standards of beauty are formed, inner and outer beauty, and more. At the end, they wrote poems about all the things that make them who they are. The workshops were really successful, and I’m proud of the girls for keeping up the energy to participate during that difficult time of day!

Nutrition and exercise workshop

HIV/AIDS workshop

Some of the girls working on their poems during my self-esteem workshop

The Girls Go to the Beach

On Wednesday, we took a break from our regular schedule and took a trip to the beach. For some of the girls, particularly those from the mountain town of Tafraoute, it was the first time they’d ever seen the ocean! We went to a lesser-known beach outside Agadir, where we were able to claim an entire section of beach for the campers to relax and play. In between lounging, games, and swimming, AMJAD led a full-blown soccer training on the beach, complete with exercises, drills, and matches! It was truly an awesome site to see. Later, after a late lunch of fresh fish at the marina, we went for a tour of the brand new world-class soccer stadium in Agadir. It’s a stadium that soccer players from all around the world will play on, and it was really exciting for the girls to get a private tour. At the end of our time there, the mudir of the stadium surprised us by giving a little speech about women’s sports and civic participation in Morocco. He told the girls how the stadium was a project of the ministry of culture, the head of which (and thus his boss) is a woman. He then said, (roughly paraphrased and translated from Arabic), “I don’t want you all to look at this stadium and think, ‘Oh, this is great and all, but its just for boys.’ No, this stadium is yours too, and you should believe that you have every right to be here and play here as boys.” It goes without saying that his statements were met with much applause from the girls and AMJAD.

The group at the beach

My girls and I at the stadium

Looking Forward

By the end of the week, it was clear we had accomplished something amazing with the Souss Girls’ Soccer camp. As they played their final matches, the girls were visibly more confident, skilled, and enthusiastic about soccer than they’d been on the first day. Girls from different towns who had just met days before walked around arm in arm like sisters. When AMJAD pulled out their drums and started playing, the girls felt the freedom to let loose and dance freely in a space they felt they owned. Perhaps most indicative was the number 1 question asked by the girls on the last day: “When will next year’s camp be?”

Looking forward, AMJAD has already stressed on multiple occasions their desire to do the camp next year; they want to not only coach, but take ownership and run the camp. It’s too soon to tell, but it’s looking like this project could become something not only successful, but sustainable into the future as well. A yearly regional soccer camp, sponsored and led by the country’s leading professional women’s soccer team: that’s something amazing to look forward to.

Our goal had been to lead a girls’ camp that would foster empowerment through sports, give the girls a safe space to practice soccer, and develop region-wide enthusiasm about girls’ soccer; looking around, it was impossible not to see that we had succeeded, thanks to amazing work done by AMJAD, Intilaqa, and all our other Moroccan partners.

I'm gonna let it shine

Though I’ve made some posts in the last few months, it’s been awhile since I’ve given some updates about my work and projects. I’ve been really busy since February with various things, including several large events and a bunch of smaller, continuous projects in-between. It’d be too daunting for me to list everything I’ve been up to for the past few months (and probably really tedious for you to read), so I’ve selected a few of the things I’m most proud of and summarized them here. I snagged a few of the summaries from my volunteer report that I submit to Peace Corps, so forgive the detached, report-style writing that’s present here and there!


Training in Fes for the new trainees

I had the awesome opportunity to participate in the training process for the new volunteers of the stage that arrived in country in January. For 6 days, I worked with a training group of 5 trainees on PACA (Participatory Analysis for Community Action), English teaching, spring/summer camps, and leading clubs/activities. In each of these areas, I presented training material, offered advice through positive experience sharing, fielded questions, and facilitated discussion and idea-sharing among the trainees. I was also responsible for guiding the trainees through hands-on practice with each of the new skills they learned, in the form of having them each lead activities and classes at their training site Dar Chebab. You might be thinking, “wow, that is a heck of a lot of stuff to cover in 6 days,” and you’d be right – it was a TON of stuff to cover in such a short amount of time, and we were super busy. Everything went extraordinarily well, though, and we covered everything we needed to. In fact, during their PACA community mapping practice, the conversation centered on the issue of women’s access to cafes and other public spaces, and by the end of the activity, boys were openly calling for greater equality for girls. Talk about success, right?!

I was super excited about doing this from the beginning, mostly because of my love for PACA (you can read about it here and here), but also because I’ve always wanted to help Peace Corps Morocco operations on a broader scale. Plus, I was lucky enough to be able to work with my former CBT site, which meant tons of visiting time with my host family! For reasons I can’t fully put my finger on, this experience was one of the most fulfilling things I’d done in my service up until that point. Facilitating discussions and skills practice, returning to my “roots” of Morocco in my CBT site, having a part in shaping the future of Peace Corps Morocco, and benefiting from the unique, refreshing perspective afforded by spending time with new trainees – it was well-worth the long trek back up north.


Goal Setting Workshops

In partnership with my counterpart, I led 2 goal setting workshops with the members of 2 local women's associations. The workshops had an association-wide focus, meaning that the participants identified and discussed goals that they wanted to achieve as an association as a whole, rather than as individuals. We designed the workshops as a way to not only help the associations with planning their future activities, but also as a way to give the women practice with the process of setting attainable goals and developing realistic plans to achieve those goals.

The workshops were a huge success, with 40 women attending the first and over 150 women attending the second one. Many of the women expressed their enjoyment of the workshop, and requested that we come back to do something similar in the future.

Here’s an outline of how the workshops went:
1) We began with a general discussion of what goals are, reasons for their importance, and methods for achieving them
2) We read the association's official mission statement and goals, and together wrote the goals on flip-chart paper in simplified language, in order to help everyone understand what the broad goals of the association are.
3) Through large group discussion, participants chose one broad association goal that they felt was especially important. This became the broad goal that we would focus on for the duration of the workshop.
4) In small groups, participants brainstormed possible projects or activities within the area of the large goal chosen by the group. They were told to focus only on projects or activities that could be achieved within a 1 year timeframe, and to choose their best idea to share with the group.
5) Each group shared their idea with the larger group, and each group's idea was written on flip-chart paper.  Through large group discussion, participants then chose one idea from the list to focus on for the purposes of the workshop, with the knowledge that each idea was valid and potentially attainable.
6) We then had a general discussion of long-term goal setting, using the metaphor of a set of stairs to illustrate the concept of working "step by step" to achieve a larger goal. Participants were shown a drawing of stairs on flip-chart paper, with "1 year" written at the top, "6 months" written in the middle, "Now" written at the bottom, etc. The project idea they chose was written at the top, next to "1 year," and it was explained that in order to achieve their goal in 1 year, they would need to plan for all of the steps they would need to take in 1 month, 3 months, 6 months, etc.
7) In their small groups, the participants were asked to think of steps necessary to achieve their goal, starting with "now," and working their way up the stairs. Each group was given 7 pieces of paper and asked to write each step on a sheet of paper.
8) Each group shared the steps they thought of with the large group, and placed them on the stairs according to when on the timeline that step should take place. The large group gave their input on each step and where it should go on the timeline. The finished product was a complete timeline for achieving their project idea.

At the end of the activity, the association had, on flip chart paper:
- Their broad mission and official association goals, written in simple language for all to understand
- A list of project/activity ideas for one of their broad goals
- A 1 year timeline plan for achieving one of their activity ideas.
- A blank sheet with stairs drawn on it, for planning additional activities and replicating the goal setting activity with themselves in the future

International Women’s Day Event

I partnered with Tafoukt Souss, a local women's development association in Agadir, to hold an interactive discussion for International Women’s Day. We decided to show the film “You Can Dream: Stories of Moroccan Women Who Do,” and use the themes in the film as a starting point for discussion.

Three girls from the association came to my site and led an interactive 2 hour-long event with over 70 women. We screened the “You Can Dream” video, and paused it between each woman’s story to facilitate discussions about the themes in the film and how those themes relate to the lives of the women present. The discussion was very participatory, rather than lecture-style, and women in attendance frequently shared their thoughts and experiences with issues presented in the film The vast majority of the women participated and seemed genuinely interested in the topic. Several women stayed afterward to talk more with the women from the association, and several more requested that we host more discussions like this in the future.

Field Trips with the Dar Chebab kids

My mudir, some older students of the Dar Chebab, and I coordinated a field trip to a nearby mountain and natural spring for the youth of our Dar Chebab. We left early in the morning, traveled to a town near the spring, and hiked with our things to a suitable spot near the spring. Throughout the day we set up camp, played games, went on hikes, and had lunch and kaskroot at our campsite. The older boys took care of all of the logistics regarding food: botagaz, ingredients, supplies, dishes, cooking, etc. While we were there, I led 2 hikes to the nearby spring and hills, taught the kids Ultimate Frisbee, played cards, and led informal discussions about nature and pollution.

Piling in to our mode of transportation of choice!

Near the natural spring

My Dar Chebab also led a girls-only field trip to Agadir. Approximately 20 girls joined us for a trip to the beach, lunch in Agadir's famous souk l-hdd, and a walking tour of the city of Agadir. The field trip was girls-only because of girls' expressed discomfort with boys harassing them or bothering them, particularly when in their bathing suits at the beach. My Mudir and I wanted to give the girls an opportunity to enjoy themselves free from the added pressures of discomforts resulting from the presence of boys.


Diabetes Screening and Awareness Event

This event was part of a two-week long annual program organized by the Ministry of Health in Taroudant. The program consisted of diabetes screenings and educational discussions in several towns throughout Taroudant province. The diabetes testing and educational discussions were conducted by 4 Belgian nursing students, 1 Belgian doctor, 1 Algerian assistant, and various Moroccan staff from the Ministry of Health. The Belgian nursing students were in Morocco as part of a volunteer program jointly facilitated by their university and Morocco's Ministry of Health. I contacted the Taroudant Ministry of Health early on in the program's planning process, in order to coordinate the inclusion of my site, Sebt el-Guerdane, into the program for the first time.

The event in Sebt el-Guerdane consisted of free diabetes screenings and a diabetes educational discussion, both aimed specifically at women of the community. Over a 5-hour period, 147 women were tested for diabetes using a two-test approach: one test before breakfast, one test after breakfast. If they tested positive for diabetes, they were given brief counseling about their test results, as well as an official reference to the local clinic to receive further medication and treatment options. Over 120 women also attended our diabetes educational discussion, which focused on the basics of diabetes, symptoms, prevention, treatment, nutrition, and healthy lifestyles.

Several of the women who attended the event had never before been tested for diabetes, and were receiving testing and medical information about he disease for the first time. While many women who attended were from Sebt el-Guerdane central, many came several kilometers from small villages outside the town in order to benefit from this free service.

In addition to the diabetes screening and educational discussion for women the first day, the team and I also led a 1.5 hour educational discussion with the girls at the local Dar Taliba the following evening. The discussion focused on diabetes awareness, nutrition, and healthy lifestyles.


Taroudant Spring Camp

Every April, Peace Corps Morocco partners with the Ministry of Youth and Sports to put on dozens of camps across the country during students’ two-week spring break. Most of these camps are English-intensive, and are staffed by PCVs and Moroccan counselors alike. I had the pleasure of coordinating the Taroudant camp this year, the biggest spring camp in the country, from what I’ve learned! It was enormously successful, and I had such a great time. We had 160 kids at the camp - that's 10 more than we were expecting and 40 more than the previous year - and still managed to not only keep everything under control, but to have a really successful week of camp. There were 6 PCVs working the camp, in addition to 10 absolutely wonderful Moroccan counselors. All of the PCVs were flexible and hard-working, handling class sizes of 20-30 youth and club sizes of 45+. Those are huge class sizes for camp groups, and I was continually impressed by how well they handled it. In addition, the Moroccan counselors were true professionals; they were always present, helpful, respectful, and truly creative in the activities they led with the youth. Throughout the camp, we had English classes in a wide variety of levels, club/workshop activities (environment, team-building, art, and gender&development), sports time, and a variety of Moroccan-led activities. What’s more, among the 10 counselors were 3 professional musicians, who led a great music club in the evenings that was a big hit with the youth. The camp also included an outing into the Taroudant medina and a large, scavenger-hunt game on the camp grounds.

All of the PCVs, counselors, and staff

Taroudant's famous medina walls

The PCVs

Some of the kids on the last day

Before working this camp, I would have been daunted by the thought of organizing, teaching, and engaging 160 youth in one camp, and it was truly amazing to see how well everything came together. The mudir, counselors, and PCVs worked together every day to make this one of the most successful camps I've been to in Morocco, and I am proud to have been a part of it!


Upcoming: Souss Girls' Soccer Camp

The biggest project on my plate now is the Souss Girls’ Soccer camp that I, along with my PCV partner, John, and our community partners, are organizing for the first week of July. This is an ambitious, unique project – the kind of thing that has the ability to define our services and stay in our memories for a lifetime – and I’m so excited to tell you about it! We got the idea from the various PCV-organized girls’ soccer teams that have been starting in the region, despite multiple obstacles and some cultural stigma attached to girls’ sports here. We wanted o give the girls an opportunity to practice their soccer skills, meet other girls with similar interests, and give them the opportunity to meet some older role models who have found success in the sport despite cultural norms. The plan is to bring 4 soccer teams, from 4 different towns, together for one large, week-long, all-girls soccer camp. We’ve got a local association partnering with us, and the women from the awesome Taroudant women’s professional soccer team are coming to act as coaches for the girls. We’ve got a good foundation going, but this is still a HUGE project – building a week-long summer camp from the ground up in Morocco is challenging enough as it is, let alone the fact that we are really pushing some boundaries by offering such a sports-based opportunity to girls. We have about a month and a half left to pull this off, and its going to be a busy ride until then, especially because there will be a lot of Peace Corps related travel happening between now and then. Plus, we are still waiting to hear back about our grant funding – so cross your fingers for us! More updates on this to come!

Dear Future Peace Corps Volunteer...

Before starting service, every Peace Corps Volunteer receives an invitation packet from their assigned country, which includes an official invitation to serve, paperwork, and a "welcome book" from the invitee's assigned country. The welcome book contains lots of information about the country in general, the culture, the work assignment, a packing list, etc. At the end of the welcome book, there are letters from current volunteers, intended to give invitees the authentic "voice of the volunteer." I was asked to write one of these letters for the next edition of the Morocco welcome book, and thought I'd share it here. I realize that it's too long, but what can I say? Its a little more than difficult summing up all that could be said about my time here so far and all that I've learned. So, here you have it:

Dear future Peace Corps Volunteer,

It has been said that Morocco is a study in contrasts: the modern with the traditional, the desert heat with the mountain chill, and the recent successes with the lingering challenges. Life as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco follows the same pattern; indeed, my first year of service has been simultaneously the most difficult and the most rewarding year of my life.

I am inspired daily by the hospitality and generosity of the Moroccan people, when friends, neighbors, and even complete strangers from my town invite me in for a delicious meal, no questions asked, solely out of a desire to welcome a newcomer and share their company. I am amazed by the youth I’ve come to know at various summer camps across the country, whose enthusiasm, language skills, and humble kindness are beyond their years. I am inspired by Fatima, the women’s literacy teacher in my town, who has devoted her life to ensuring that just a few more women will learn the value of reading, writing, and expressing themselves, despite the obstacles. I am moved by the spirit of the women who have come to my events, learning and discussing openly with one-another about women’s rights, family law, and gender dynamics in Morocco. I’m inspired by the numerous women’s associations I’ve worked with throughout my service, who work tirelessly against cultural tides to improve women’s health, education, literacy, and independence. I’m amazed at the strength and dedication of the girls in my soccer club, who come to practice week after week, despite cultural norms and vocal boys who would rather they stay off the field. Most importantly, I’m touched by the willingness of my Moroccan friends, neighbors, and counterparts to work with me as I navigate a foreign culture, master a new language, and adjust to all the nuanced challenges of working in an unfamiliar context.

The most challenging aspect of life as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco is learning to adjust your expectations – expectations of your service, your work, your site, and yourself. Peace Corps advises you to come with no expectations, but we all know that that isn’t possible; the important thing will be knowing that your expectations may not be met, and in fact will likely change dozens of times throughout your service. I had a certain set of expectations of myself and my service when I came to Morocco, and almost every aspect of that has been turned upside down from the moment I arrived – by the difficulties of my site, by my primary assignment, by my working conditions, by cultural issues, and a whole host of other factors. And adjusting all of your expectations – especially when in the midst of adjusting to life in a new culture and learning a new language – is hard. It was much harder than I’d expected, and I admit that there were days when I didn’t know how I was going to manage. After a year of service, though, I’ve learned the importance of learning to go with the flow, to expect the unexpected, and to adjust when things don’t go as planned. Most importantly, I know that although my service isn’t at all what I expected, it is still meaningful, challenging, fulfilling, and beautiful in its own right.

In addition to all Morocco will teach you about cultures, languages, and yourself, your time as a Peace Corps Volunteer will undoubtedly give you a new perspective on time, patience, and what success can look like. In America, success means things like launching a large initiative, hosting hundreds of people at event, raising thousands of dollars for a cause, etc. As a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, though, success can mean having a conversation with a few girls, in which they share the struggles they face and you encourage them to find their voice and reach for their goals, despite the odds. Success can mean suddenly realizing that after months of living with, eating with, shopping with, and learning with Moroccan friends, you’ve become completely immersed in the culture. Success can mean sharing a joke with a woman in a crowded taxi whom you’ve never met, in a language you’ve just learned, about something you both can relate to across cultures. Indeed, perhaps the most meaningful successes as a Peace Corps Volunteer are those that involve bridging the gaps, forging lifelong bonds, and changing perceptions one smile at a time.

Kirsten Zeiter

Youth Development Volunteer, 2012-2014

1 Year In

March 19th marked 1 year since I officially began my Peace Corps journey. 1 year since, exhausted, nervous, teary-eyed, and weighed down with too many bags, I walked through the Detroit Metro airport to catch a plane to Philadelphia. 1 year since we gathered for a 1-day introduction called “Staging” in Philadelphia, and the whirlwind of forms and procedures and papers and vague answers made me dizzy with stress. And 1 year since I met for the first time some of the people that would come to be my anchors, my sounding boards, my dearest new friends.

March 21st marked 1 year since we first set foot in Morocco as Peace Corps Trainees. 1 year since we all waited at the airport in Philly for hours, trying to get to know one another and relax, but mostly trying to calm down and enjoy our last bits of greasy American snack foods or ice cream or beers for awhile. 1 year since, 10 minutes before our plane was boarding, a group of us gathered in the airport bar and toasted to our hopes for the next 2 years with Sam Adams mugs. 1 year since we landed in Casablanca and were greeted by Peace Corps staff on our way to retrieve our too many bags. 1 year since I sat next to Kitty, Ted, and Eugene on the shuttle to Rabat, gazing at our new surroundings and showing each other pictures of our loved ones back home. And 1 year since, slightly rested after a nap but still jet-lagged beyond reason, we gathered for our first of many training sessions in Hotel Oscar, eagerly collecting whatever information we could from the staff we’d just met.

In many ways, those first days in country feel close – I can still remember how I felt, who I talked to, and what we ate – and it’s truly difficult to believe that an entire year has passed since then. In other ways, though, I look back and recognize just how far I’ve come: how much I’ve learned, how much I’ve grown, how close I’ve become with new friends, how much I’ve experienced, the roller-coaster of emotions that I’ve learned to cope with, the cultural understanding I’ve developed, the changes I’ve made, new life I’ve created for myself from scratch here in Morocco.

In 1 years’ time, I’ve left my home and loved ones behind; learned a new language; adjusted to new foods, and learned how to cook many of those foods; learned all about a new, unfamiliar culture; learned how to [attempt to] succeed at a new job; moved to a new city in a new country; learned to call that city and country home; re-learned how to do everything, from buying vegetables to going to the post office; taken 12+ hour bus/train/taxi trips all around the country; made new friends, both American and Moroccan; built a program at my Dar Chebab, hosted numerous events with Moroccan partners, worked at 3 youth summer camps; worked at a girls’ leadership camp; spent a year’s worth of major American holidays away from home; welcomed family and loved ones to Morocco for a visit; trekked into the Sahara by camel and gazed at the stars from atop a sand dune; swam in the Atlantic; learned to live alone, and enjoy it at least a little bit; hitch-hiked with a random Moroccan lady I’d just met; bargained for goods in the market with skill; learned to adjust my expectations according to a new lifestyle; and above all, learned more than I ever could have hoped about myself, my country, my culture, and the customs and culture of the Moroccan people.

Life around the 1 year mark is infamous amongst PCVs: its known as the time when most people experience a severe low on the emotional roller coaster, due to fatigue or jadedness or a general recognition that, though you’ve come a long way, you still have a heck of a long way to go. I feel very lucky to be able to say, however, that I’m currently riding a nice high wave on my roller coaster, and have been for the past few months. Since the GLOW camp last January, which I wrote about most recently, I’ve been busy with lots of meaningful, successful work, and I’ve been feeling the best about my service that I have since arriving in country. In addition to all the great work I’ve had, this year’s new group of PCVs finally arrived to their final sites last week, and we all had a blast welcoming them to the region. There are 2 new PCVs in Taroudant, a large city only about 20 minutes from me, and it’s been really rewarding prepping the site for them and helping them get acclimated into their new home. Moreover, interacting with new PCVs provides an interesting perspective on my own service: how far I’ve come, things I wish I’d known, the things I love about Morocco, and how I want to spend the remainder of my time here. In short, a lot of factors have come together to make life at the year mark not only positive for me, but a time of meaningful reflection and perspective that is much welcomed.

There’s a lot to say about my first year of Peace Corps service, and it’d be impossible to accurately sum up all that I’ve felt and experienced in that time. Instead, I thought I’d give you my thoughts on a few important areas of life here that might give you a picture of where I’m at: lessons learned, community integration, language, and looking forward.


1 Year In: Lessons Learned

First and foremost, I have learned that Peace Corps is about adjusting to the fact that your expectations for your service may not be met, or may change drastically from month to month. I had a certain set of expectations of myself and my service when I came to Morocco, and almost every aspect of that has been turned upside down from the moment I arrived – by the difficulties of my site, by my primary assignment, by my working conditions, by cultural issues, and a whole host of other factors. Adjusting all of your expectations – especially when in the midst of adjusting to life in a new culture and learning a new language – is HARD. It was much harder than I’d expected, and I admit that it really threw me for a loop during the first few months of my service. Looking back on that time now, I realize just how far I’ve come in this regard; how well I’ve learned to go with the flow, to expect the unexpected, and to adjust when things don’t go as planned. Most importantly, I’ve learned that although my service isn’t what I expected, it is still meaningful, challenging, fulfilling, and beautiful in its own right.

On a similar note, learned that every single person’s Peace Corps experience is different, and that shaping my own expectations around the experience of someone else is foolhardy. Each PCV's conditions vary so widely – site location, culture, language, students, Mudir, counterparts, weather, resources available, needs of the community, I could go on and on. – that each person must navigate their own path according to their own unique set of circumstances at their site. This part can be especially hard to remember, especially with the availability of the internet and Facebook here in Morocco; when I’m having a bad day, a bad week, or even a bad month, it can be hard when reading about the successes of fellow PCVs to not get down on myself and wonder what it is I’m doing wrong. The truth is, though, that everyone has their own challenges and their own successes – and blaming myself or being too hard on myself for the unique challenges of my situation at that moment is not only unwarranted, its also counterproductive. In America, there may be a lot of ways to get something accomplished, and a lot of back-up plans/resources when things don’t work out as planned with a project. Here, though, that may not be the case; some roadblocks in the developing world, especially for a foreigner who just showed up a matter of months ago, might be too immense to overcome within a span of 2 short years. Learning to be at peace with the progress I’m making, no matter how small, and training myself to not be so hard on myself has been one of the most valuable lessons of my service thus far.

Though I’ve adjusted by leaps and bounds since arriving in country, I am continually in the process of learning the hard lesson of patience, and of accepting that things in the developing world don’t necessarily happen at the same pace or with the same precision as they do in the United States. From simple tasks like going to the post office or shopping for basic supplies, to larger things like getting a project of the ground or arranging a meeting with a local association, there is a definite element of uncertainty: something could be closed unexpectedly, somebody could be out due to a family function, the meeting could get cancelled due to miscommunication or the weather. To put it bluntly: things here happen SLOWLY, much more slowly than any of us realized, and all things, especially important projects, TAKE TIME, and lots of it. At the very beginning of my service, I would often blame myself for these shortcomings: “All I wanted to do today was attend that meeting, go to the post office, and get the supplies for the event tonight, and only one of them got accomplished – I am a failure at this!” A year of this however, has taught me that this sort of self-blame is unwarranted and a waste of mental energy; no matter how much I plan, there are bound to be obstacles and changes to those plans, and that is O.K.

I have also learned the necessity of working with local Moroccan counterparts in order to execute projects and achieve goals. In the beginning of my service, I regarded a counterpart as an important factor to success as a PCV; I now regard a counterpart as not just important, but as an essential part to success in any project. Every single success I've had during my service has been in partnership with a local counterpart, be it my Mudir, an association, or another interested community member acting as a counterpart for a particular project. Counterparts are necessary for a number of reasons, including logistics, cultural relevance, language, resources, and most importantly, sustainability. It may be true that a project can be completed without a local counterpart, but it will take a lot longer to accomplish, take a lot more work, and be generally more difficult for the PCV than if it had been done with a counterpart. Most importantly, if that project does succeed without a counterpart, it will most likely fail to have any real element of sustainability, since no local community members were involved or invested in the project. I have learned that our projects are important not merely for their completion, but for the skills transferred to community members along the way while collaborating, such as project planning, grant writing, etc.


1 Year In: Community Integration

A year of living in a foreign country has taught me that community integration is a process made up of severe ups and downs. On the one hand, I have experienced days when I feel completely integrated into my community, and that everywhere I turn I seem to run into somebody I know. For example, I run into women from my aerobics class on an almost daily basis, and I've come to be known by women in my community as the "one who does sports for women." The Taxi men know me, and can usually tell based on the day of the week and what I have with me whether I’m going to Taroudant or Agadir. When I do my shopping, I have a “vegetable guy,” a “bread guy,” an “egg guy” and “supermarket guys,” all of whom know me and greet me with smiles when I visit their shops. They’ve come to know what I’m probably going to buy and what I need, and they help me out with things I don’t know. There is, however, a flipside: for as many days as I feel completely integrated, there are an equal or perhaps greater number where I feel completely alone in my community. I have spent entire days walking around town, shopping, or sitting in the park, hoping to have a pleasant interaction, only to be met with harassment from young boys, anxious stares from women I haven’t met, or old men muttering the word for “foreigner” under their breath as I pass.

Perhaps the most difficult part of community integration has been the fact that I can never fully by myself in my community, even with those whom I know really well. My community is very conservative, and there are a lot of cultural factors that need to be taken into consideration with almost every aspect of my life. In order to not be considered hshuma (shameful), I have to lie or otherwise bend the truth about aspects of my life such as my romantic relationship, my male friends, my favorite foods and drinks, my clothing preferences in America, my political opinions, and my general life back home in the U.S. Though I can share a lot of myself with my Moroccan friends and have made many genuine friendships, a large part of me always feels removed at some level, because of all of the things I need to hide about myself. Some days, I think that maybe I’m being too cautious, that maybe I can be a lot more honest with people about who I am culturally. But then I hear the women in my community relentless gossiping about one-another, never letting a single thing about each others’ small town lives go unnoticed – and I decide once again to err on the side of caution.


1 Year In: Language

I’m happy to say that my language skills have continued to progress since training. I felt relatively confident when I first got to site, but I’ve learned a ton since then, and I know that my communication skills are light years ahead of where they were last summer. This is partially thanks to ongoing tutoring – I meet with an Arabic tutor, who is also a great counterpart of mine, once a week – but mostly it’s due to continued interactions and discussions with people over time. With every conversation I learn a bit more, and after every week I can cite a least a few new words, phrases, or grammar structures I’ve learned. Though it makes some things more difficult, the fact that my Dar Chebab Mudir and most of the people I’ve worked with only speak Arabic has definitely helped my language skills progress considerably.

My host mom, with whom I’ve spent countless afternoons talking and hanging out, has helped a lot as well; we’ve had many complex conversations, such as things like women’s health, the environment, war in Syria, American cuisine and culture, gender norms in Morocco, abortion, raising kids…I could go on and on! She’s always open to a good conversation, and she’s great with being patient and explaining new words to me so that I’ll understand.

I still have moments where I feel like I’m not understanding anything – mostly when I’m talking with someone who doesn’t speak clearly or keeps using Standard Arabic instead of Darija – but all in all I’m very proud of how much Arabic I’ve learned and how well I can communicate. Perhaps the most important thing is that I still, after all this time, find it fun and fascinating to be learning a new language, right down to all of its nuances, idioms, and slang.


1 Year In: Looking Forward

With a little over a year left in country, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’d like to accomplish and how I’d like to spend my remaining time here as a PCV. In the short-term, I’m looking forward to coordinating Taroudant Spring English Language Camp next week – the biggest spring camp in the country! The next few months will also be busy with planning for the region-wide girls’ soccer camp that myself and another PCV are trying to put together for the end of June; we’ll be meeting with potential venues, applying for a grant, finding coaches, putting together a program, etc. After the camp is completed (incha’allah!), it will be summer, and Ramadan, and a trip to Europe for taking the GRE/vacationing that I’m planning with some fellow PCVs. For the rest of the school year that follows, I’d like to continue the high presence of girls at my Dar Chebab, and bring in some more new faces. The girls’ soccer team will incha’allah be going stronger than ever, and we’re planning to hold matches between teams from various girls’ teams in the region. I’m also hoping to hold a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp, potentially during the winter break, for girls in my site and surrounding areas. Sometime in late winter or early spring, I’d like to hold a TOT (training of trainers) for Moroccan women interested in learning how to lead an exercise class. This project was inspired by my desire to hand over leadership of my women’s exercise class over to the women in my site before I leave, in order to make it sustainable after I go. This will in theory be open to women from across the country, particularly women identified by PCVs as good candidates to take over the many women’s exercise classes being led by PCVs around the country. After that, it will be close to my COS (close of service) date – ah! All of that is a full year away at this point, and though that’s a long time in many ways, it’s beginning to feel shorter and shorter the more I think about it. At the beginning of my service, 2 years seemed like a vast expanse, stretching out before me into the horizon, where anything was possible and most everything was unknown. Now, I can look at the calendar and, albeit very loosely, map out what the next year of my service might look like. It’s an eerie thing, really.

But, you know what? It’s still Peace Corps, and it’s still Morocco, so things are anything but set in stone; I never know what the next day, let alone the next year, might throw at me. So here’s to 1 year in Morocco, to all the ups and downs, the challenges and the successes, the insanity and the beauty, the loneliness and the friendships, the blazing heat and bitter cold, the hopes and the let-downs. Here's to what’s been both the most incredible and the hardest year of my life. And here's to a little over 1 more year to go.

A Summer Dawn, Mid-Winter

The slam of a metal door, and I begin the walk through my scrubbed Moroccan town. Just outside my house, I pass a group of boys is boys huddled around a game of marbles in the dust, before continuing on past the clucking and clatter of the nearby chicken butcher. Further down my street, I greet 3 smiling women I know, dressed in colorful, flowing izars and carrying parcels on their heads.

The weather today is that of the summer days of my childhood; those warm, sparkling days with sun streaming through the sky, a breeze blowing through your hair, birds singing an invitation into the days’ bright open sky. Days when eyes flutter open to the mid-morning light, covers are thrown back, bare feet pad down the hallway, and young hearts swell with the day’s promise of adventure to come.

Adventure – it’s a sensation I’ve come to know on a daily basis in my life here. On the main road, groups of men sit at favored cafés, drinking Moroccan sweet mint tea and watching the world pass by. Schoolchildren ride in from nearby villages on their bikes, and shopkeepers fruitlessly sweep endless dust from their entranceways. I cross the road, and a van packed with people honks its horn as it passes, offering a ride to those wishing to go into the next town. The sun beats down, my skirt rustles in the warm wind, and I bring a hand over my eyes, conscious of the growing heat the new month has brought.

A warm breeze on my cheek, and I’m carried back again to American summer; to days of wide green lawns, sprinklers clicking away, lawn-mowers humming, dogs barking; to the clacking wheels of rollerblades, long bike rides, hopscotch along the sidewalk, the cold splash of a neighbor’s pool; to popsicles, slurpies, cool turkey sandwiches, and family dinners on the patio in the waning evening light.

“Miya u steen, miya u steen!” The prices of apples, bananas, and an array of vegetables reach my ears as I make my way through the maze of souq, Piles of green herbs, rows of carts bearing fruit, and mounds of onions with skins as red as beets spread out in front of me, and the scents of a thousand spices assail my senses from the bright stall on my right. Finally I find them: strawberries, the first of the year, arriving with the newfound warmth of the season.

Ripe-red berries, fresh as my memories of farmer’s market strolls in Michigan, trailing behind my mother and spinning in the sun’s glow; of twilight ice cream trips, sleeping bags, and popcorn popping; of bonfires cracking through the darkness, marshmallows melting, and songs humming from the radio; of running barefoot on the wide lawn, wet, fresh-cut grass sticking between your toes, while stars twinkle back an echo of the day’s warmth.

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Though my writing might suggest otherwise, I’m not coming from a place of homesickness right now. On the contrary, I’ve been feeling more inspired, hopeful, and happy with my service than I have in quite a long time. So this morning, as I contemplated my newfound energy, I made a conscious effort to feel what was around me, to truly soak up the sky I’m under, the weather wrapping my skin. And what I felt, much to my surprise, was the embrace of a warm summer day in Michigan – the summer days of my childhood, running free through a vast suburb that seemed filled with endless possibilities. Maybe it was something in the weather – the temperature, the way the breeze fluttered through my hair the way it did all those years ago, the warmth of the sun – but maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with my newfound sense of purpose; this sense that suddenly, everything fits together – my past with my present with my future – at least as much as it ever can.

You’ve probably noticed the infrequency with which I’ve written over the last few months, and I won’t lie to you: a large part of that is because I’d been having a rather rough go of things. That is, of course, with the exception of the marvelous, absolutely wonderful and loving visits from family and loved ones I had – and I am truly lucky to have people in my life that love me so much that they’d travel halfway around the world just to visit with me for awhile. Needless to say I will cherish the memories we made for my entire service and into my life beyond.

In the spaces between, however, I found myself stuck in a major rut. I wasn’t feeling fulfilled by my work, and I event felt that I was horribly matched for my assignment. English teaching is only a small part of my purpose here, but the daily task of teaching something I didn’t feel qualified to teach wore me threadbare, and I began to dread even going to my Dar Chebab for classes. In my other projects, I didn’t feel that my skills were transferring well, and I became burnt out and even disinterested in much of what I had been excited about. What’s more, the street harassment began to bother me with renewed ferocity, and I found it difficult to even go for a walk in my town without becoming frustrated and angry. I began questioning what kind of an impact I could possibly be making – even in the cross-cultural aspects of my work – especially if such a large portion of the youth in town still deemed it necessary to shout at me in French or vulgar English. The work we do here is difficult in more ways than I can count, and without my usual passion and positive energy, even the simplest of tasks began to seem daunting, even impossible.

It is often said that every Peace Corps Volunteer goes through a similar phase, but I was beginning to wonder if what I was experiencing was in fact part of the normal up-and-down cycle of a PCV life, or if it was something more prolonged, more difficult to overcome. It had gone on for several months, after all, and my disheartened feelings extended from work to social interactions to all aspects of my Peace Corps life. I repeatedly asked myself when I was going to wake up and feel excited again – when the fire in my heart that keeps me alive and enthusiastic would be rekindled. I needed something to kick me back into gear, but what?

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The answer to my troubles took the form of a project I’d been invited to help out with in Tazenakht, a small town in the desert to the east of my site. I’d been looking forward to it since the summer, but I hadn’t expected the transformation it would catalyze within me in just a few short days.

The project was a camp called Girls Leading Our World (GLOW). Facilitated by Peace Corps Volunteers all around the world, GLOW camps bring together groups of girls with a focus on both providing education on important life skills and empowering girls to incorporate and share those tools within their communities. These camps are often the first time many of the girls have left their town to participate in something like a camp, and it’s a great opportunity for them to express themselves and discover new friendships.

Our GLOW camp was organized by one of the volunteers in Tazenakht, in conjunction with her Moroccan counterpart organization and other PCVs. The camp took place in the local Dar Taliba (girls’ boarding house), and for 4 days campers and counselors alike ate, slept, and did activities within our shared space. There were 9 of us American Peace Corps Volunteers there to lead workshops, do activities with the girls, and help with general logistics. There were also 12 Moroccan volunteers from local associations, as well as 15+ helping hands to assist with taking care of the girls, leading activities, meals, sound/tech, etc.

42 girls arrived at the camp early Friday morning, and from that point on the Dar Taliba was alive with energy and smiles. The workshops – led primarily by PCVs with the exception of a few led by Moroccan volunteers – covered a wide array of topics, from the extremely serious to the fun and artistic. In between workshops, there were songs, chants, dances, camp games, and a field trip to a local lake, as well as time for rest and meals somewhere along the way.

A list of workshops included in the camp:

Gender roles

Self-esteem

Goal setting

Women’s rights in Moroccan law

Women’s health

Beauty

Cinema

Self-defense

Arabic Calligraphy

 Rape 

Sexual harassment

Henna

Belly dancing

In addition to helping out with general camp activities, my role was to lead the Goal Setting workshop. I’d learned a lot about goal setting activities from my past work with various organizations in the US, and I was excited for the opportunity to discuss such an important skill with girls in Morocco. Though it was a lot of prep work, my workshop (entirely in Arabic, mind you – this camp was NOT about teaching English in any way) went really well! I talked to girls about their dreams of becoming doctors, teachers, lawyers, musicians, and much more. By the end of the workshop, each camper had created a drawing of her “dream self,” a list of goals for her life within 5 years and for her adult self, and a 5-year timeline detailing her plan for achieving her most desired goal. I’ll admit that I was nervous before the workshop. I worried that the girls might not understand what I was asking, or that they would have a hard time with the exercise due to the relative lack of this kind of activity in their education up until that point. The girls, bright and bursting with goals and dreams, proved all my worries to be unfounded, and I was inspired beyond words by their enthusiasm.

I could go on and on with stories of all the myriad ways the girls of the camp amazed me, made me laugh, and brightened my spirits during those 4 days, but instead I’ll say only this: Never underestimate the power of a group of feisty, educated, empowered, generous, artistic, and hilarious 13-18 year old girls gathered together in one place; and always remember the power of two cultures coming together for a common purpose and a shared passion for the girls of our future.

The last night of the camp consisted of a closing ceremony and never-ending dance party, as is essential in any Moroccan camp. From 4pm until almost midnight, campers, counselors, and helping hands gathered to celebrate our shared talents, inspirations, and the wonderful experience of the past 4 days. The girls put on a talent show absolutely bursting with creativity, we enjoyed cake and soda, and everyone danced away under the moonlight to the beats of drums played by the girls themselves. As I looked around me that night, I realized that I had finally found it – what I had been searching for all those long months before: A sense of community, of belonging to something bigger than myself; a feeling of purpose, of being able to contribute some meaningful drops into the big bucket we’re all swimming in together; a sense of being able to share my skills across cultures, and to connect on levels beyond language with people who grew up halfway across the world from me.

Perhaps most importantly, I’d found an understanding that all of this was made possible by the simple idea of one Peace Corps Volunteer; that all of this was put together by a PCV and her counterparts, working together toward a shared goal. While in my downtrodden rut, I had begun to falsely regard many of my project ideas as faraway, out of reach, forever to remain in their idea state. But all of my feelings of burnout, all of my cynicism and resignation melted away that night, as I stood looking out over the groups of girls having the time of their lives. I felt as though I had suddenly woken up out of a bad dream, with more than an entire year left of my service just waiting to be filled with meaningful work and cross-cultural connections. I resolved, right then and there, to hold onto that feeling, to hold onto it tightly and never let it go, even in the most frustrating of circumstances – for it was the light on the horizon I’d been waiting for, the lifeline I’d been grasping for all of those months, and I’d be damned if I was going to ever let it out of my sight for a minute.

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And so, here I am, inspired to write for the first time in almost 4 months. Things aren’t perfect, but I’m thrilled to say that I’m back on the horse and galloping full-speed into what the next few months hold for my town and my service. As though welcoming the new leaf I’ve turned over, a group of 8 new girls from a nearby Douar came to the Dar Chebab this week and seem intent on sticking around. I led an art project where we made collages about what we want for the future, and taught the girls Ultimate Frisbee as an example of good sportsmanship and strategy. I have a Diabetes screening and awareness project planned with the Ministry of Health next month, and have arranged to have the professional women’s soccer team from Taroudant come to my site and give a workshop for my girls’ team. What’s more, my counterpart and I have finally gotten the wheels turning on our idea for a girls’ soccer camp this summer, and I’m optimistic about our prospects for making this a successful project for a large number of girls. There are a number of other project and partnership ideas bouncing around in my head, and I’m so happy to once again feel that anything is possible with a little conversation and creativity.

It’s as though a dawn has suddenly broken in my mind, and the fire inside of my heart has been rekindled. All of this requires a grain of salt, as nothing in Morocco is necessarily easy. Nevertheless, as I approach the year mark of my service next month, I’m looking forward to what the next 16 months will hold – the bad and the good, the hilarious and the curious, the successful and the frustrating, the familiar and the adventurous.