By ahblackwell
For the past week, I have been traveling through Morocco on a southern excursion with my program. The trip has taken us from the coast of Rabat to the cedar forests of the Middle Atlas Mountains, through the first dunes of the Saharan Desert, west through the High Atlas Mountains, and back up to the beaches of Essaouira. There have been so many highlights of the excursion that it is almost impossible to name my favorite part. However, the purpose behind the trip, visiting NGOs and associations dedicated to the education and well-being of women and children in rural areas, has been both interesting and enlightening.
The first day few days of our excursion were long and filled with passing plains and mountain scenery. On Saturday morning we packed ourselves onto the bus and drove southeast towards Midelt. After about seven hours or so of driving, including a stop for lunch in Azrou and a glimpse of barbary apes in the cedar forests of the Middle Atlas mountains, we were excited to get off the bus and explore. The “city” of Midelt is small and tame, lending a pit-stop and a place to sleep to many tourists (mostly Moroccan or European) traveling into the mountains for hiking and other wilderness excursions. Once off the bus, we visited a cooperative that teaches local women how to embroider and weave carpets and tapestries, while also teaching them how to use a computer and how to speak English. Because it was a Saturday, we did not get to meet the women who are members of the center. Nevertheless, the staff of the co-op served us tea and cookies and showed us around the beautiful new building. By teaching women how to use a computer and making language classes available to them, the co-op ensures that the members not only learn how to produce crafts but also how to be businesswomen and sell their own goods. When people buy carpets and other crafts directly from the co-op, the women are cut a large percentage of the profit.
On Sunday morning, we left the mountains behind and headed into the Merzouga Desert, one of the northernmost parts of the Saharan Desert, via Land Rovers from the town of Rissani. The jeeps sped through the plains and their surrounding dunes with ease, sending dust flying and putting me smack in the center of what felt like a “Built Ford Tough” commercial. As we passed through one of the small villages outside of Rissani, I could sense the immediate change in culture. We passed crumbling buildings and women completely disguised by their black niqabs crouching on their stoops, the swirling dust from the Land Rovers the same color as their houses and the ground they sat upon. The jeeps stopped abruptly in one of the small villages about forty-five minutes outside of Rissani, and we clambered out, legs shaky and hands stiff from clutching onto our seats and the door handles for safety, and entered a building towards the center of the town that houses the Hassi Labiad Assocation, a literacy program for Berber (the indigenous population in Morocco) communities living in the area. Once seated inside, a young man introduced himself as a teacher and board member of the association and explained the organization to us as we sipped hot tea and snacked on nuts distributed by the organization’s staff. The Hassi Labiad Association, located in the Merzouga Desert, is one of 17 of its kind funded by the Moroccan government. The organization, started by a group of university graduates who grew up in the desert region, provides a literacy program for adults, in addition to schooling for children starting in kindergarten. After the introduction, we were allowed to explore the center. Dresses, tapestries, paintings and other crafts made by the women and children in the center’s programs hung on the wall and were laid out on tables. I purchased a camel doll, hand-sewn with bright color threads and scraps of fabric, that was made by one of the children who attends school at the center.
On Monday morning, after an unbelievable night of camel riding and sunsets and sunrises in the Saharan dunes, we left the desert for the sheer limestone cliffs of the southern Middle Atlas mountains and the plains below them. After many hours of driving and passing Berber villages, we arrived at the Association Tishka in the city of Ourzzazate. The association, which provided us with tea and cookies, dinner, and a place to sleep, provides a girls dormitory for university-age students to live in while they’re attending school in Ourzzazate. Throughout much of Morocco and the surrounding regions, girls are expected to live at home until they are married. This expectation makes it very difficult for girls who live in remote southern villages to continue their education after secondary school. The Association Tishka provides acceptable living conditions for young girls (they range from about ages 16-25) who want to attend university or trade school in Ourzzazate, allowing them to live away from home while taking classes. At dinner, I sat at a table with several of the Tishka students and several students from SIT. Due to nerves and some language barriers, the conversation started out slow and awkward. However, after introductions and several songs (from both the girls and from our group), our table was speaking a steady mixture of English, French, and Arabic while taking pictures with each other and eating couscous from the same tajine. The girls were incredibly welcoming and open, considering the fact that a large group of strangers took over their space for the night, and seemed to enjoy talking to us and giggling at our Arabic. Exhausted from our long journey, we all retreated to our bunk beds after dinner in anticipation of our early start the next morning.
Our last educational stop of the trip was at an NGO right outside of Essaouira, the Cooperative D’Argan Marjane. The co-op teaches rural women (mainly Berber) how to harvest and produce argan nuts and use their oil to make various cosmetic and food products. During our tour, tiny Berber women were seated next to baskets as they cracked and sorted the nuts, their smiles wide and bright against wrinkly tanned skin and layers of dresses and scarves. Upon our arrival they began to sing and clap, and the air, thick with the smell of burning wood, was filled with their piercing whistles (best - though poorly - emanated by moving your tongue side-to-side while hooting loudly). Proceeds from the products made at the co-op are split between the women and the cooperative. I purchased some of the almond argan-oil butter - similar to peanut butter but much better - as well as some cosmetic oil (effects of the cosmetic oil on unruly hair soon to be reported).
Despite the southern excursion being one of the best and most exhausting weeks of my life, it was also incredibly enlightening. I think it is easy to take universal education for granted because the United States has education programs everywhere, whether public or private. Accommodations are made, no matter how far a person lives from the nearest town or how low their socioeconomic status. Education might not be equal for everyone in the U.S., but it is there. Living in an urban center in Morocco, such as Rabat, has given me a false idea of the country’s education status.The children who live in our Medina, including my homestay siblings, are all required to attend school and they receive decent public educations or very good private educations. However, in Morocco, living in a village that is only 50-100 kilometers from the nearest town could result in a child not being able to attend or continue schooling, especially in the case of females. Organizations and cooperatives, like the ones we have visited on this excursion, are necessary to ensure that children and young adults, and especially women, are provided not only with basic elementary education, but also the ability to provide for themselves and their families without having to travel hundreds of miles into the nearest town.
This week flew by as quickly as the scenery of Moroccan countryside that I watched flicker by through the dirty bus windows. I took a million pictures and walked through so many souks, it makes my head spin. However, the truly lasting memories are those that I cannot take a picture of. Talking to young Moroccan girls who have left home in order to continue school or touring a school building made of mud and grass in the Saharan desert are images that will stick with me, for good. Hopefully I can return to some of these sites and organizations during the rest of the semester and turn the memories of fleeting moments into life-changing relationships and experiences. In-sha’allah.