Moved!

Check it out: The Race Factor

Their confidence has improved so much. When we started it was hard to get through a single sentence. Now they understand almost every word and can explain its meaning. I’ve started having them listen to song and writing down what they think they hear and they’re doing an unbelievable job. We’ve done I’ll be seeing you by Billie Holiday, A Change is Gonna Come by Sam Cooke, Black or White by Michael Jackson and today we did Prelude to a Kiss by Alicia Keys.

The day before yesterday a few things happened. The beginning of class started like every other: I arrived around 8:30 and about 4 of my students were already there. One of my most advanced students approached me before I entered the classroom. He explained to me that he was having a lot of trouble. He told me that he didn’t have money to pay his rent and that the lady who owned his building would put all of this things on the street if he didn’t pay today. He said he needed to borrow 500 DHM (about $62). It broke my heart. I know there are a lot of people out there in the same situation but I have formed a genuine relationship with him, like with all of my students.

I said no.

I told him that I was with an organization that didn’t allow us to give money. This is a horrible position to have to be in. I had the money plus some in my wallet. It meant nothing to me and would have gladly given it to him. He wasn’t surprised by my answer but he was gracious and reassured me that he would be ok. The situation completely blurred right and wrong together. I knew it would be wrong to give him money because I would be breaking the rules and possibly setting inappropriate precedent. On the other hand he was one person that I could have easily helped. I feel like maybe I did the wrong thing. Today he got a phone call in class. He got up and left and when he came back he’s eyes were teary and he sat down and put his hat over his head. I spoke with him after class and he told me that his mother is very sick in the hospital. They don’t have money to pay their medical bills. He wanted to go back home to her (Democratic Republic of the Congo) but she told him no, she told him that his “country was dead.”

It’s hard to explain how I feel about my students. This man told me that the only time he was happy was when he was in class. I’m so glad that I could at least give him that.

Another one of my students- probably my favorite, gave me a gift today. Probably the best gift any teacher could hope for. He wrote me a note telling me how thankful he was for his english class. He said that before the class he couldn’t speak any english and that now he can read, write and speak and then he wished me luck in life. This young man is incredible. He was so shy at the beginning and didn’t try very hard. His progress has been so awesome. He volunteers almost every day now. He had a new french/ english dictionary that he bring to class and he’s all around every teachers dream. It was a moment that will probably live with me for a very long time.

After class today we have a fun singing session and then we all parted ways and for some reason it made really sad to leave them.

Early morning walking through the gates at the East- West Foundation

The organization began in 1994 as a way to promote work skills and cultural exchange for displaced persons as well as individuals just wanting to hone in on promotable job skills.

East-West Foundation

Thefoundation is partners with Cross-Cultural Solutions, UNHCR, and Foundation CEAR Habitat afrkica (both refugee organizations). Most of my students are refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

I am continually surprised and inspired my students.  Mostly by there desire and motivation to learn as much as possible.  I suppose we don’t really know how much the human sprit can endure until we’re personally faced with adversity.  Many of the people in my class have traveled to Morocco to escape war in the Congo.  One man told me that he had to leave his family behind over a year ago and has no idea if they are alive today.  Another man told me that he had to leave his child behind but he couldn’t finish his story because he said that he would cry if he continued.   Another man walked from the D.R.C to Morocco with his brother.  His brother died along the way.  Their stories are present in the back of my mind, always.

At the beginning of two months I was teaching them phonics.  Some of them didn’t know how to say, “Hello how are you.” A week ago we read Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream speech,” and the understood it all.  It was a really emotional to see such staggering progress in such a short amount of time.

Grammar Lesson. This is my shyest student who has totally come out of his shell.

These women are training to become social worker

Something happened today that was really special.  Today we shared something about ourselves and the individuals from the D.R.C expressed concern over racism between Moroccan Africans and Sub-Saharan Africans.  I have about 4 Moroccans in my class.  We all stood in a circle and each person stepped into the center to share their concerns.  An older man stepped forward at one point and told the class that he was grateful to God to be here with all his friends, no matter where they came from.  He said that everyone was welcome in his country and that he was blessed to learn English among friends. It was clear that he moved everyone. My students were all brought together by this common desire to learn and to be accepted and I got to witness this connection.  Although the man’s words might not cure any systemic racism, it was an incredibly special thing to be a part of on a personal, very human level.

This is why:

The important point to walk away with here is not that white folks are racist, afraid of Obama, don’t like him, or don’t think he’s qualified.  Instead I think the key point in this article points to the importance of reflecting on how, and to what extent a governing white culture has created and shaped those thoughts, and opinions.

White cultural superiority affects folks who don’t think of themselves as racist, or afraid; who aren’t conservative, and many times, who aren’t white.  Regardless of any of those things, white folks are so deeply implicated in the construction and maintenance of racism that race is and has always been a white issue.

Why Conservatives Are Really Afraid of  a Black President

By Johnathan L. Walton, Relgion Dispatches.

… in Obama’s America, the white kids now get beat up with the black kids cheering, “Yay, right on, right on, right on, right on,” and, of course, everybody says the white kid deserved it, he was born a racist, he’s white. Newsweek magazine told us this. We know that white students are destroying civility on buses, white students destroying civility in classrooms all over America, white congressmen destroying civility in the House of Representatives. – Rush Limbaugh,
Sept. 15, 2009

Ever the statesman, and often candid to a political fault, former President Jimmy Carter said recently that much of the animosity directed toward President Barack Obama is “based on the fact that he is a black man.”

A lifelong Southerner, Carter acknowledged that the inclination of racism still exists, and that “it has bubbled up to the surface because of the belief among many white people, not just in the South but around the country, that African Americans are not qualified to lead this great country.”

Click the link to continue reading…

]]> http://youngwhiteandaccountable.wordpress.com/2009/10/13/wake-up-white-folks/feed/ 0 youngwhiteandaccountable http://youngwhiteandaccountable.wordpress.com/2009/10/08/were-similar/ http://youngwhiteandaccountable.wordpress.com/2009/10/08/were-similar/#comments Thu, 08 Oct 2009 16:32:36 +0000 Julia http://youngwhiteandaccountable.wordpress.com/?p=383 ]]> Yesterday and today have been great days.

I’m finally starting to feel healthy again. Thank goodness.  There’s nothing worse than taking care of screaming babies when you feel like your head is going to explode.

I taught a conversational English class at the University on Tuesday and Wednesday.  It was such a treat being at a University (where I feel at home) and being around students my age.  The first class we taught (another volunteer and myself) was for second year Chemistry Masters students.

They were really eager to learn actual grammatical rules. It was hard to break the news to them that in America, home of the free and land of the brave, many of us are never taught what a compound subject is or how to use nonrestrictive modifiers.

We did our best though and covered when to use “in,” “and,” or “on.”  We discussed the difference between “Shut-up” “Shutdown” “Shutoff,”  and had a good laugh when someone asked when you use the phrase “no shit Sherlock.”

The second day was even better.  The students in this class were first years of the same Chemistry Masters program.  This class was much more structured, which I liked.

We went around the room and each student had prepared a short blurb about themselves.  After everyone had finished and I asked some folks how old they were, just for practice.   We talked about hobbies, sports and movies in the beginning and moved on to verbs, adjectives, and nouns.  Then we did an awesome mad-lib that I prepared a few minutes before class. That was a hit- but mad-libs are always sure to please.

Next we discussed the similarities and difference between the American and Moroccan education systems.  The Moroccan system is modeled after the french system and both American and French systems are quiet similar.

The students were very interested to know about prom, and if it is really like it is portrayed in all the movies.  I said it was not. Well not for me anyway. I had a great prom with zero drama.  We discussed holidays and I tried to explain the history behind Thanksgiving which was kind of difficult.

At the end, I asked them what they would want Americans to know about them and their culture.

We came up with a list.

1. We’re good people. Friendly and kind.
2. Islam is more than praying.  It means being kind to others.  Forgiving others. Helping others when they’re in need.
3. We’re similar to Americans- we like the same things other young people like.
4. Our culture is different- we wear different clothes and eat different food.
5. We may be a third world country but we’re much farther along than many other third world countries.
6. We have many, many traditions involving food. We love food!
7. We are very honored to have you in our country.

I’ll be going back to the University Oct 26th.  I’m very excited!

It was back to reality today though at the orphanage.   It was a cloudy morning but cool which was nice.  I helped one nurse today change diapers and clothes.  She can bathe, change a diaper and put 3 layers of clothing on faster than I can dress one child.  I do like to take my time though and talk to them…

I spent a long time after changing babies, changing beds in the yellow room.   There were no other volunteers in that room today which is probably why it took me so long.  I kind of liked it though.  It gave me some quiet time to think. That didn’t last long though because eventually all the kids were rolling around in the play pen.

The nurse motioned for me to sit with them- which I was going to do anyway.   It’s uncomfortable hearing a baby cry.  You want to hold them and comfort them until they stop crying.  Multiply that cute baby by 14.  Sitting on the floor of the play pen caused this eruption of baby sadness.  14 sad babies all wanting to be held at the same time.  That is difficult.  I can manage three at a time, maybe. Two on each hip and then one in my lap.

That’s probably the most difficult part for me- not being able to give them all the attention that they crave.

The day went by pretty smoothly after that though.  I was one of the few volunteers outside with the toddlers today- the others took some kids to the hospital to get shots.

I was also in the company of many prospective parents looking to adopt. This part is still weird for me.  I just think back to the hundreds of times I went to the Humane Society when I was little.  I would pick out a dog that I liked and then come back day after day hoping to adopt it.

This is what these parents do.  They pick out a child, and in their minds, that child is their own while they wait for paper work and trial dates.  It’s nice to have them there though.  They treat the children much kinder than the nurses do.  And it’s really awesome to see a child get adopted!

The day ended with feeding time which also went smoothly.  I felt like I won a hundred mile marathon because they kid I was feeding ate EVERYTHING in his bowl, including his yogurt and still had a smile on his face.

I’m convinced that women should probably get way more credit then they do for what they go through when it comes to giving birth and raising children.   In what other job must you grow something inside of you, give birth to it, and once having given birth to it, use the right combination of love and discipline to create a little person that will become a functional member of society  (and those are just the basics ).  Obviously men can do this job very well minus the giving birth part but I think I’m thinking about the women in this orphanage when I write this.

There are only women nurses and doctors in the orphanage, and it seems like they should be given the medal of honor for having to fight on the front lines every single day.

Pizza Hut is located in a mall.   It was interesting to see capitalism at it’s very best here in Rabat. There is this interesting fusion of western and Muslim culture that makes very little sense sometimes.  Women completely covered from head to toe, groups of men dining out, women in very little clothing, young unmarried couples together, women not wearing head scarves and then Pizza Hut, where all worlds seem to collide.

I got myself a cheese pizza and it was divine.

To end, here’s an interesting fact I learned the other day during a lecture on Islam:

Question: What percent of Muslims are actually Arab?

Answer: Less than 18%

Today was hard as usual.  The first half was quite and I really connected with a little girl in the yellow room (6-12 months). I love the little kids that really respond by smiling or cooing.

I’ve tried to figure out what about the orphanage is so emotionally draining because when I find a little kid like this little girl it’s really rewarding. But most of the time  it’s children screaming, nurses yelling, kids hitting you.   Despite all of that there’s something else that doesn’t feel natural about having all those kids without caregivers (the nurses do a very good job though).   Or maybe it’s that I don’t feel like I have enough time to connect with one kid…which it what I wish I could do- like today.  If I had may way, I would have taken the little girl from this morning and carried her around with me all day, played with her, fed her and then come back tomorrow to do it all over.  Mmmm I might end up taking her home though which probably wouldn’t be good.

But how do you stay detached enough and engaged enough to give you’re energy and attention to 20 different kids throughout the day?

One of our volunteers got hit in the head pretty bad today by one of the kids I mentioned earlier.  She tried to explain what happened to the director but it sounds like he didn’t understand.  I got smacked in the back on the way out last time.  I’m not a fan.

I’m off to the hamam now, which will be a nice treat.

I took a trip this weekend to the Sahara and all though it was unbelievable it took us more than 20 hours of traveling to get there and I got really sick on the way home.  Although I’m recovering quickly, I’m still tired. And working at the orphanage doesn’t help.  It’s much harder than I thought it would be.

I do alright with the language barrier and finding things to do to make myself useful.  It’s very hard to connect with some of the children; either because of their own developmental attachment styles or my own sense of overwhelmed-ness.   Needless to say the girls that have been here for a while have connected with everyone, kids and nurses so I suppose I just need more time.

I like the newborn room the best.  It smells kind of funky- like milk and medicine. But it’s calm and there’s this innate desire to touch or hold crying babies.  It’s interesting to see, after so much developmental psych, how the youngest babies (no more than 8 weeks) try to connect with you when you’re feeding them.  Most of the time they wont make eye contact with you at first- they have this vacant far-away look.  Halfway through a bottle though most of them seem like they really crave eye contact.  Some of them are just so cute and so tiny I can’t just put them back after I feed them- even though the nurses like to get things done fast.

I fed one little boy today who was my favorite.  I don’t remember his name but he smiled so much. Baby smiles are contagious

I don’t always look forward to going outside.  We take the toddlers outside- the ones that can walk.  Today was tough because I was so tired and still not feeling well.  I was lucky enough to get a little girl that couldn’t walk yet.  There are many other kids outside with us, most of them with special needs.  While the majority of them are great, there are two in particular that are getting to be a real problem.  They will come up and kick the volunteers or hit them.  Both of theses kids are very good size so this is not like a love tap.  It hurts! One nurse fainted yesterday because she got punched in the stomach.

Corporal punishment is the norm here but there’s not a clear punishment or reward system.  When nurses get frustrated and the kids aren’t doing what they should, the kids get smacked.  This is unfortunate for us because very few of the volunteers, including myself, aren’t willing to hit any of the kids. But many of kids, especially the one’s with disabilities don’t understand vocal corrections.   So that is a challenge to say the least.

I’m looking forward to teaching conversational English at the University!

We pulled in behind the green iron gates and a beautiful curved walkway made of stone wrapped around a common green with play structures , trees and beautiful venerable houses.

Our group piled out of the van and we were greeted with hugs and kisses by a little boy, Naddar.   He had some mental disabilities and would tap his head and point.  He saw me holding my usual liter of water and kissed it.  Apparently I was also a big hit because of my short hair.  He wanted me to play tag so he pointed and himself, ran and I jokingly chased him in between the other volunteers.  I think some people may have been uncomfortable with his friendly greeting.

We had a tour of the orphanage after my very short game of tag. Children are separated by age and placed into a room with a specific color.  We started in the yellow room with the children from 6-12 months.  Babies were laying on floor in a giant play pen, sleeping in cribs and being coddled by nurses. From there we went to the new-born room.  Babies no older than a few weeks old lay in tiny cribs.  Some of them slept and some of them cried.  But they were so small and tiny and new.  Most of them had just been abandoned. It was so hard to resist the urge to pick them up and just hold them close.

The toddler room came next and I was greeted by a little girl holding a red truck.  I love how loving kids are, even when they don’t know you.  I held her while the residential director explained the specifics of the room and age group.

The rooms downstairs housed kids that were older, many of whom had disabilities. I met one boy who was in a wheel chair and was very obviously physically and mentally disabled.  He had a huge smile on his face.  After the director shook his hand I wanted to as well.  I shook is hand and he did a hand shake, fist bump and smiled  I was so drawn to him, maybe because of his ability to share his happiness so effectively. They told us that he had a neurological disorder and wont live past the age of 17 years.

The next building was the disabled house.  Residents are all ages and have severe mental and physical disabilities.   Three of our volunteers are working with them.

I worked for a few hours after the tour with the 6 to 12 month babies.  There wasn’t any clear instruction and the nurses speak french, so communication is not easy. Surprisingly direction was not hard.  I followed a nurse around for a bit to see what she was doing and what I could do.  We exchanged hello’s in french. She picked up a baby from his crib and handed him to me.

I held him for quite some time.  I asked the nurse what his name was in french but I forget now what she told me.  After about 20 mins I put him down in the giant play pen and held a very young girl who was too young to be in the play pen.  She talked to me and held onto my fingers and I rocked her back and forth and sang to her.  It’s interesting how fast she tried to connect with me, and how quickly I connected with her.  I can’t imagine how hard it would be to give up your own child.

Women here abandon their children if they’ve had them out of wedlock.  They may leave them by trash cans or hospitals.  Police men bring them to the orphanage.

We were called over to the toddler room for feeding time.  This is when things started to get hectic.

I was in charge of three kids that did not want to sit down.  One would get up, I put him back in his seat.  Then the other; put him back and so on and so on. So this very pretty nurse who had been holding a baby in my room came in.  She grabbed the kids and yelled LA! GLES!  (No! Sit Down!) And then she acted like she was going to smack them.  I think she did hit few.

I was little bit surprised but it worked. I personally got as far as LA! in a stern voice.  Another volunteer and I were feeding the kids along with about 5 nurses.   Amidst the noise and crying and yelling, I hear a smack.  I turn around the the girl that was with me looked shocked and the little boy she had been feeding was lying on his back still in his chair on the ground.  Oh la la the nurse said next to me.  I really hoped that we didn’t crack a kid’s head open on the first day.

He turned out to be fine but the volunteer was shaken.  I would have been too.  After rice, eggs and yogurt I grabbed a few kids, placed them in their cribs, changed a few diapers, and then it was time to leave.

Day one down.

On a leaving note: Kul Dude in Arabic means “eat worms”

Morocco is fantastic.  I’m staying in Rabat which is the capital with Cross Cultural Solutions Volunteer organization.  For the next three months this blog will be about my experiences in Morocco and what it’s like living in a Muslim country.

I’m staying in a very wealthy part of Rabat at what used to be the Indonesian Consulate.  The houses in my neighborhood are similar to the mansions you might see in Florida or L.A.  Of course other parts of Rabat are not so wealthy and there is quite a striking contrast of wealth disparity throughout the region.

I’m living with about 30 other volunteers from all over the United States.  One of the (many) reasons I decided to volunteer was for opportunity to meet new people.  Everyone here has a different story but we’ve all been brought together by this common desire to explore and be of service to others.

The first few days have really just been about orienting ourselves with our new surroundings.   I’m leaning Arabic… slowly. Lucky for me I have some french under my belt and just about everyone here speaks french.

Initial Observations: There are men everywhere.  It’s not just the excess of men but rather the lack of women that is most noticeable. Going out in Rabat or Casablanca there has to be like 1 woman to ever 20 men.   You did get a lot of attention but mostly from young boys like 13 in big groups.  I’ve never felt unsafe.

Not all women cover their hair.  It’s personal preference and from what I’ve noticed it’s the older more traditional women that choose to do this.

I don’t like to be woken up at 4 am for the call to prayer but it is nice to hear.

Morocco is an interesting mix of Muslim and Western culture.  There are certain things that are noticeably different like the  djellaba.  Both men women wear these long loose, hooded dress like things with full sleeves.  Some of them are really stunning; some of them make people look like the grim reaper.

Alcohol is also something that’s different.  Muslims really don’t drink alcohol although you can find people throughout Rabat that will sit down for a beer.  Public displays of affection with the opposite sex is illegal unless you are married.  Again you will still see young couples holding hands or kissing in parks in Rabat.  It really depends on where you are in the country.

A few of us took a trip into Casablanca today and went to the Hassan II mosque (the third largest the world).  We ended up eating at Rick’s Cafe- a very popular tourist destination and then wondered the narrow streets for a while.  It was so great just to see how people live their lives on a tuesday afternoon in Morocco.

I start volunteering at the orphanage tomorrow so more to come.