Internet in the Bled- One of Life's Little Jokes

One of Moroccan PCVs’ favourite jokes is technology in Morocco. There are just so many things to laugh at about it. First, the fact that all the technological toys that can be purchased in the USA can also be found here (at least in the big cities) yet more than half the country can’t read. This is humorous to those of us trying to improve the literacy rates b/c we are continually wonder how it is these ppl use their toys –the answer is pictures, and those that can’t read can’t afford iphones and the ilk. Another joke, many of our PCVs don’t have running water but they have DSL...hmm. Before this year there were two PCVs who had no electricity; one of those sites recently became attached to the electric grid and within three months of gaining electricity that PCV had internet. I, myself, have every amenity I could want and I recently purchased internet which works more or less like the MyFi in the US. The comedy of this is that, even though the modem is attached to my computer it runs at the speed of dial up with the reception of stealing wifi from the apartment one floor up and two apartments over. With any luck my reception will one day be reasonable, until that time please don’t be hurt that my blog updates continue to be slow.
But for the next two weeks(ish) I will be in Oz so I will have fabulous reception (enchallah) so if you wish to reach me I will have frequent access to the glories of the interweb and you, my beloved and fearless readers.
LE GASP! A scandal of the most scandalous nature! Do you remember, most devoted readers, that is said in one of my previous posts that I live in a duplex? Well, please allow me to correct this misconception. First, please allow me to introduce you to my neighbour, Mina. It’s impossible to tell age in this country b/c everyone is undersized due to poor nutrition and they age quickly and not-at-all-gracefully b/c they lead hard lives. My guess at her age is late thirties early forties b/c her oldest son is in his late teens. She has three sons, who are wonderful humans and always help her with everything and are eternally patient with their kid sister who is somewhere between 4 and 8 (like I said, no gauging age) who I suspect has a mild developmental disorder of some sort. Mina’s husband died two years ago leaving her to raise four children with no income and no way of making an income (there are three jobs for women in my province: cooking, cleaning, or selling their bodies- the idea that a woman should work is so foreign to people that when I tell them I worked on a ambulance-there is no word for EMT- they assume I cleaned it). Having no income means that Mina feeds, clothes, and buys supplies for her children using sedaka (charity) one of the pillars of Islam is that you give a portion of your monthly income to the poor (specifically widows and the old w/o family).
Mina is very amazing, and she’s taken me in as her kid, she is continually sending her children over to my house with bread or buttermilk (a treat that ppl love to drink here- I use it for pancakes and biscuits). Last week I was laid out for two days with a migraine which i suspect was a product of dehydration. When she found out I had been sick and hadn’t been able to even cook for myself she lectured me. I should have kicked the wall or called her name, she would have made me soup. Next time I am to ask for help, it’s like having a mom... actually it’s exactly like having a mom b/c she demands I tell her when I’m leaving site and where I’m going. One day I’ll cut the apron strings I’m sure.
Now you know Mina; moving on to the scandal. When I moved into my house Mina invited me over for couscous (a dish I eat at her house at least once a week now) where she told me I was always welcome anytime and if I felt lonely and didn’t want to sleep alone she told me the door is always open. I told her she was welcome at my house as well; to this she vigorously shook her head. She said that my landlord was very rude to her, didn’t like her, and threatened to hit her if she ever went to my house. (There are laws and courts that protect Mina from this fate, but she has no education and doesn’t know that) I was shocked and said I was very sorry and I couldn’t understand how anyone couldn’t like her. She said thank you. A few days later the whole story came out and I was flabbergasted. Are you ready my friends? My landlord is her late husband’s brother and what I had thought to be my half of a duplex is, actually, the half of Mina’s house that my landlord inherited when his brother passed away and then stole out from under his sister-in-law and her four children.
I was in shock when I found this out, I said I was so sorry but couldn’t think of anything else to say. Mina said she it was OK b/c it meant that we could be neighbours. I almost cried.
I would hate to end on a sombre not like that so here are two more anthropological observations. First, let’s build on the poor nutrition I referred to earlier. Not all the children in my site are under-nurished, the most telling signs of family prosperity are the childrens sizes. If the kids are fat the family is wealthy, even if their clothes are dirty and ratty you know the family has a decent if not posh income if the wee ones are fat all over. I specify all over b/c I don’t mean like on those Send –Money-To-African-Orphan shows where you see small children with huge tummies and spindly arms and legs (that’s severe starvation and their tummies are all swollen b/c their tissues are water logged and tummies are full of parasites- ew) No, I mean pure, unadulterated, chubby babyness. Probably a fourth of my site has enough money to have happy pot bellied kids. There isn’t much of a middle ground, either their rolly pollies or their rail thin and you have no idea how old they are. Mina’s children are an extreme version (Looking at her oldest son I can tell they were poor even when her husband was alive) I know that, let’s call him Kevin, is seventeenish b/c he is taking the test to see if he can get into college next year. They take that when they finish high school at eighteen. When I fisrt met him I thought he was thirteen. He is pencil thin, maybe 5’4”, and –judging by the bow of his legs- I think he had rickets as a small child. I might focus on the undersized nature of these ppl but don’t be fooled into thinking them frail. They are tiny but wicked strong, I saw Kevin toss a sack of grain almost as tall as he was to another guy and I can barely pull the sack when it was on the ground.
I promised I’d tell you guys about the Moroccan education system too. All schools are public so all education is free, even university; the family has to buy books and supplies. Just as with our public schools is very good for those who are in affluent areas in these areas b/c the more money the area has the better the teachers will be. Differing from our set up in which the family has to live in the are to get the good school, students are able to travel to better areas to get better educations and some schools provide dormitories for those unlucky students who don’t have family to live with in the desired area. All ppl have equal access to education until they finish highschool, then they take a test called the Bach to see if they can continue on to University. We can associate it with the SATs /ACTs except it is exponentially more stressful for one reason: only the top 40% of everyone in all of Morocco who takes the test each year continue on to University. That means that even if all the test takers in the entire country score over 90% on the exam only the best 40% will continue to University. Ouch. To make the situation even harder on all test takers, if you fail one year you can take the test again the next year. I’m not sure if there is a limit to the number of times you can take the exam. Still this means that you are not only competing with everyone in your age range in the country, you are also competing with previous years. Also, there is no secret choice B, you failed the test you have to pay for University. No, you just don’t go on to higher learning.
Yet another depressing point, there is very little job market here. One of the guys in my CBT site who helped our group learn about Moroccan culture has a degree in English and works construction, when there’s work at all. Another case, one of my favourite tajine and lentil places is owned and run by a man with a degree in Chemical Engineering. This is not just a product of the poor job market though, it’s also a great deal to do with the culture. You don’t leave your family and the thought of living alone is so alien ppl don’t trust Moroccans that live alone. So a lot of ppl will finish their degrees then move back home to be with their families; not all, some move to big cities or France or the US too. But a large enough number don’t use their degrees that it’s noteworthy.
Hmm, I had hoped that having a computer would mean I could post more often and not bog you guys down with huge tomes of blog... The posts are more often, at least.