The Little Things

Today is the last day of classes before we return to Azrou to find out where our assignments will be. I barely survived the morning language sessions, and can’t wait for this afternoon to be over. These two weeks have been at once very enjoyable, with many happy memories, yet exhausting and maddening. I wrote yesterday of the Laid Sgira, but even a long nightl's rest didn’t cure me of my fatigue. I dread having to speak any Darija and every little incident grates on my weary nerves. We went to lunch at Carolyn’s house for Indian food and an unknown man kept mumbling for us to eat. I wanted to find some ducktape. One of my friends even bothered me when she encouraged me to try a little chicken!

I remember when we first started cultural sessions and a current volunteer kept talking about how much the harassment bothered her. Men would say little things and she would get very angry. I thought it was silly. I had experienced a quantity of the same in Guatemala and just thought it was something to get used to and very insignificant of a problem. But today I’m realizing that little things that at first were funny become not so funny, and then frustrating and then one little comment can flush my cheeks with anger. I feel especially bad when the intention of a comment is good hospitality, but I am having a hard time repressing any emotion right now. Before I came to Morocco I was rather emotionally and mentally drained, and I fear that this has left in me in less than a good state of mind for the training Stage. However, I've been here almost two months, so not quite sure I can blame that. Guess I just thought I was a little emotionally tougher and culturally aware that this wouldn't affect me this much. Oh well, it will pass.