i don't know where i am

sunrise, sunset. obsession.

let's go.

stop desertification

share your water

turn that music uppp

i saved a seat for you

take your pick

good morning, moon.

i'll tell the stories later.

sometimes i think about settling down

i want a house with no fence and a door with a broken lock whose hinges are well accustomed to swinging and an oven that knows the feel of a sheet of cookies baked with the intent of sharing and a table that has served meals and conversations much more valuable than the wood it was made out of. rooms that have felt the heartbeats of friends, strangers, visitors, and family members as they have drifted off to sleep and a tea kettle that sits on the stove ready to take part in the ritual of shared tea and shared story. and a row of sunflowers in back that greets me as i sip coffee in the morning. i want to make bread and cinnamon rolls and have dance parties in the kitchen that carry on to the living room and backyard. the walls are an art gallery of stories waiting to be told and family is whoever is at the dinner table. it smells of mint and orange and cinnamon and lavender and pound cake turning golden brown and vanilla incense. a shelf dedicated to children's books that should be remembered and reread. and a place where single people don't feel awkward hanging out with married ones and young adults sit with wise old ones and listen with the intent of learning something worthwhile and taking part in story...
a place where story happens.

I'm leaving in the morning for the south of Morocco!

Adventures will ensue!
goals:
1. memorize copious amounts of Arabic vocabulary on our bus rides
2. tac down my topic for my independent study project
3. do something crazy
4. write lots of letters to people
5. learn how to speak camel
6. take too many pictures
7. come back with some epic stories to tell you.

countdowns:
1.5 hours until my paper is due
9 days until my birthday!
13 days until Courtney comes to visit!!
22 days until I begin my ISP...ahhh...

bye!

my least favorite thing is dishonesty

if i can keep an honesty it is all i can expect of my poor brain...if i can do that it will be all my lack of genius can produce. for no one else knows my lack of ability the way i do. i am pushing against it all the time

steinbeck.

if Steinbeck were guiding, he would have pointed to the North.

Chapter 14, Grapes of Wrath, written in my journal

"The two men squat on their hams and the women and children listen. Here is the node, you who hate change and fear revolution. Keep these two squatting men apart; make them hate, fear, suspect each other. Here is the anlage of the thing you fear. This is the zygote. For here "I lost my land" is changed; a cell is split and from its splitting grows the thing you hate -- "We lost our land." The danger is here, for two men are not as lonely and perplexed as one. and from this first "we" there grows a still more dangerous thing: "I have a little food" plus "I have none" IF from this problem the sum is "We have a little food", the thing is on its way. The movement has direction. Only a little multiplication now, and this land, this tractor are ours. The two men squatting in a ditch, the little fire, the side meat stewing in a single pot, the silent, stone-eyed women; behind, the children listening with their souls to words their minds do not understand. The night draws down. The baby has a cold. Here, take this blanket, it's wool. It was my mother's blanket -- take it for the baby. This is the thing to bomb. This is the beginning -- from "I" to "we"

......

For the quality of owning freezes you forever into "I" and cuts you off forever from the "We" "

when i was editing my myspace page, this girl was being awesome.

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/10/24/magazine/nepal-aid.html





reblogged from Charlie Merritt

updates

1. great weekend in el-jadida
2. my ability to procrastinate has reached a new level
3. i hate writing papers no matter what country i am in
4. i still hate the smell of sardines
5. i still open my books the wrong way
6. i am currently pulling my first all nighter in morocco
7. this weekend is our southern excursion (yay!)
8. pictures and stories later
9. for now, wish me luck on my first arabic test. insha'allah, i will pass.

bread honey butter tea

So...you've seen the pictures. and you've heard some ambiguous haikus. now for the story:

The week started with a five hour bus ride south east of Rabat to the village that would be our home for the next few days.
We met our host families just as the last light of the day was leaving, and we stumbled home through the twilight with Mama Fatna on the donkey.
one thing: the STARS. were so bright, beautiful, and unlike anything i'd ever seen...mostly because they were stars I had never seen...you know..different hemisphere.
we met the family, had the best chicken tajine i'd had since i'd been here, and experienced the delicious home made khobz (bread) that would be the foundation of our stay.

we even made it home in time to watch diablo...after noting my surprise that we had a television...
bedtime: 9 pm and we all (me, ericka, mama, sister, little girl, little boys) got down our blankets and went to sleep on the floor.

Next, hiking alll day throughout the area where we learned about deforestation issues and land disputes and then ate some rghyf (bread) with butter and honey...and i want some so bad right now. we had a discussion with some of the village women where we asked them questions, and then they asked us questions.
they would like a health clinic.

and in my journal i wrote this question, i'm not sure why: why do we tend to either romanticize or demonize the other?
then i got to see how couscous is made from scratch. awesome. delicious. i love cous cous fridays. but you know that already.

next day, more bread, more honey, more butter, more tea
we met with the village men
we learned how to weave.
we played with Sana and she pretended she was a donkey
we watched the sunset up on the hill top and watched the clouds begin to roll in

these are the questions i wrote in my journal this day: what is progress? is being 'poor' bad if you have all you need? are you poor if you have all you need?
(obviously there are things like medical needs, education that are super important, but...)

next day, rain.
i woke up around sunrise time to the sound of rain on the beaten dirt outside
it felt like fall, finally. the rain and the trees smelled lovely.

we wove more.
i was thankful for ericka.
we shared peanut butter with our family: success

next day, i asked Badredine, "why does Mama Fatna only use hand motions to communicate with us? I mean...we know some words..."
to which he responded, "Fatna is very shy..."

we taught the kids at the school "head, shoulders, knees, and toes"...toes and nose are very hard to pronounce. we cleaned out the schoolyard, and painted the trees with this white, explosive rock that keeps bacteria from killing the trees. yay. natural solutions! the sustainability nerd within me was happy.
more bread butter honey tea
sister fatima called me a maghribia :)
it was windy, and a little cold
we took an adventurous short cut back home from school, and it wasn't ANY shorter,
but my little brother held my hand the whole way home. cute, but also sweaty.

next day,
woke up, brushed my teeth in the yard as i watched the sun come up over the distant mountains
i learned how to make bread.
we went to school again. education is key. i was told i could eat acorns...you really can. i watched little kids with joy as they entertained themselves with this game: one kid rides the bike up the hill, while the other kid runs alongside, and then they ride back down the hill and do it again.
i felt uncomfortable with some things that i saw that i don't want to talk about here. ask emi about it.
we took refuge in the trees.
ericka and i got our hands covered in henna...then we slept with it on all night, in our clothes that we had been wearing all week...and the henna is still here today. gotta love it.

that's what we did, basically. sorry that it's not very deep, that i didn't give you a detailed analysis of my feelings and magical revelations, but i didn't want to write a book.

but i will tell you that i want to go back, that it has caused me to ask questions about poverty, about development (wait..i was already asking those questions.)
and i had some good conversations with people.

more pics...i'm obsessed.

on the last day my sister Fatima taught me how to make bread. it. was. so cool.


structure of a house in the village: open square in the middle..rooms all around, animals on the outside

loutichina.

sana, sana girl
crazy, crazy, crazy girl
but too cute for words

brother, strike a pose
hold my hand all the way home
learn, and grow up strong

cous cous fridays are:
my most fave day of the week
tradition is intricate

mam fatna is
hospitality defined
with very few words

we are both strangers
mutual staring contest

how different we live

place: loutichina
water is a scarcity
use it sparingly

little chicken friend
your journey from yard to plate
is much shorter here