I just finished my book, “Dark Star Safari” by Paul Theroux. It was great, I definitely recommend it to anyone who has an interest in travel, eastern and southern Africa, anecdotal storytelling, or history. The fact that it took me 9 months to finish has nothing to do with how quality a read it was, and everything to do with how busy I have been. Finishing it is a strange feeling though, I’m left a bit listless and it’s taking some time to get into my next book (“Beyond the Veil: Male-Female Dynamics in Modern Muslim Society” by Fatima Mernissi, written in the mid-70′s, it’s a candid look at heterosexual relationships in devout Muslim socieities and their implications for 21st century gender relations). Interesting stuff, but in my head i’m still stuck on the end of Theroux’s book.

In one of his final chapters, Theroux quoted Henry James as follows:

“Only don’t, I beseech you, generalize too much in these sympathies and tendernesses- remember that every life is a special problem which is not yours but another’s, and content yourself with the terrible algebra of your own” (p. 433).

In the context of Theroux’s journey, he was discussing the controversial subject of Christian missionary aid in south and eastern Africa, but for me the quote served as a very important reminder: everyone has problems, and understanding that simple fact doesnt guarantee that you are respecting the reality of it. (i also appreciated that James compared difficult life problems to algebra… amen, brother).

I have had a rough week, emotionally. I dont know why, necessarily. It just seemed that the cultural and language barrier, and the repercussions thereof, were a little bit more difficult for me to grin and bear. I am happy to report that the pendulum has swung back to ecstatic happiness and gratitude for being here, but I’ll admit that I had a day and a half of a pity party last week.

It’s hard to sit in a room of girls your age, speaking a mile a minute in Arabic, whispering with punctuations of exaggerated giggling, and the word that you can most easily discern from the light-speed jumble is your name. Okay, i’m a novelty. Yes, my habits are strange and, to be honest, I’m pretty ridiculous. I mean, i’ve often thought that if someone were to follow me around with a video camera in site, it would just be ridiculously entertaining to an outside eye. I fall into irrigation ditches trying to wave at people in the fields, focusing on ‘integrating’ rather than where i’m walking. I actually fell over the other day because a woman (a complete stranger) pulled me in for a cheek-kiss greeting, blind-siding me as i was walking by, and I was so awkward that i lost my balance, and she had to catch me. Yes, this happened. All of that, in addition to speaking like a 3 year old. Usually, almost always, I find it hilarious too, and join in the laughter. But there are times when you just know you are being mocked, and i’ll admit that the frustration got the better of me.

Sigh. That’s life, right? I mean, how must it seem to someone from this village that i have come to live here and work on health education and public health projects when I can’t even speak their language properly yet? I hope that from my interactions with them thus far, they have gauged me as a person interested in their culture and becoming friends with them, and that I am GRATEFUL for their help, that I dont take it for granted… But as I am in a position of limited communication, I have no way of knowing how they percieve my presence here. How would we react, as Americans, if a Moroccan arrived in our town, speaking terrible English, and told us that he/she was going to improve our health practices? I guess the situation is so absurd, applying it to a country like America, but wouldn’t we be insulted by that? I think about that sometimes, and I try to have it inform the way I interact with people. I hope that it is working, and it seems to be going well, but there are times where this tricky situation of cultural exchange surfaces as one of my insecurities. They have so many reasons to gossip about me and ridicule my reasons for being here, how could that NOT be what they are talking about?

Well, now writing with the 20-20 vision of hindsight, it’s clear that this was an overreaction. I was very tired (having just had henna re-applied the night before by the lovely fiancee of my host brother, Hakima), and had not made the proper effort to take mental breaks from Arabic for the previous few days. The people in my town (and in Morocco at large) are so hospitable and so friendly, that to automatically assume the worst from situations like this is not only narcissistic (as if they don’t have better things to talk about than me), but it’s not fair. They have entire lives going on, that i’m not equipped with the language arsenal to adequately tap into yet…. they have TONS of things they could be discussing…. These women work in the fields and their homes, maintaining rural farms NONSTOP from 6am to 8pm every day. EVERY day. There are no weekends. Their husbands and fiancees often must move to cities far away to work in order to send money home; these men only see their families a few weeks a year. it’s not all about you and your problems, Cait.

And that’s kind of a bittersweet concept to dwell on, isn’t it? Sweet, in that the universality of stresses and problems unites us as people, but bitter in that finding common ground sometimes happens over negative things…

It’s a shame that this wasn’t a witty or funny post this week, I promise something more up-beat next time, there are PLENTY of funny things to tell, but I thought it was important to relate the great things i’m experiencing, the good things i’m experiencing, and maybe also some of the not-so-great ones. Otherwise this would be a pretty poor representation of my time here, wouldn’t it?

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