Dear, kind, indulgent readers, le sigh, it’s time to just accept that I will always be the occasional yet verbose blogger. It’s turning into a bit of a habit that I post a novella length update, apologize, swear to update more often and in shorter pieces, then time passes and I find myself in the same scenario. Alas, I am the way that I am.
Now the topic you’re all on tenterhooks to hear about... Me!
Oh my, all the things that are new that need talking about. When last you left your intrepid heroine (c’est moi) I was Fes-ward bound to assist Operation Smile yet again with another mission. This time, I announced, that I was going as an official, titled, volunteer. My title? Patient Imaging Technician... yes... I’m a PIT. This rather unfortunate title causes me to pause and tip my hat to Ms. Bombeck. I may be a PIT, but, if life is a bowl of cherries, I’m glad I’m not in the pits. The job of a PIT is exactly what it seems like: I take pictures of patients. This is pretty boring the first couple of days of the mission: 8 hours of snapping shots of squalling wee ones for two days. Then the surgeries start and things get interesting. Once the patients are put under I come in and take a few more pictures then I hang around until the surgeons are done and I take even more pictures. You may be thinking, why so many pictures? An excellent question, Operation Smile may be a humanitarian organization offering free services to those who could never get them otherwise; but, free or not, they still expect professional level work. The photos are meant for quality control. So that’s my small but important role with OS.
Some of you may be thinking my job sounds dry but to you I say, “NAY!” Actually it’s amazing. The doctors and nurses that come to work with OS are some of the best people in their field. They come from all over the world to do this work.BTW not only are they doing this work but they have to pay for the opportunity to do this and they have to take vacation time for this from their real jobs. I, personally, enjoyed working with them because they were fun to be around and because they encouraged me to hang around and see what was going on during the surgery. It was so very, very cool. There were, also, a couple of residents who were there for the educational experience and they were happy to answer all of my questions.
Immediately after Op Smile My counterpart and I organized an AIDs awareness 5 km run for the students that live in my market town. That was a glorious success. We had a turnout of nearly 150 students, most of these were boys under the age of 15 but I am not complaining. As a matter of fact, I am just grateful we had people show up. The first event is notoriously a flop in regards to attendance numbers. This means that next year (absolutely everyone demanded we do this again next year) we may double or even triple the attendance numbers. I am very excited.
Hmm, what came next... oh! My parents! Huzzah! It was absolutely wonderful having daddy and the mom lady seeing my life and the beloved-thorn-in-my-side that is Morocco. What can I say, Moroccans drive me nuts but, by god, they drive ME nuts... and I love ‘em. Trash talk Morocco at your own risk >:| That’s my scary face... it makes you quake in your boots. Having the parents here was really a fun experience. One, b/c mom and dad are awesome. Two, b/c seeing their reactions to Morocco reminded me of what I felt like the first few weeks I was in Morocco. We had a blast, we saw visited the night market in Marrakech, walked through the Rose fields of Klaat M’Gouna (the City of Roses) and drove past the nomads and wild camels that live near my village-I think I was more excited about this then they were. My parents were absolute troopers, too, I wasn’t very nice to them (to be honest). I made them travel via souk bus b/c that’s how Moroccans travel and it’s the best way to see the country. But it’s also very dirt... and you take your life into your hands every time you step foot onto one of these death traps they call a bus. I think the night we spent in a very loud hotel followed by a ten hour bus ride was a bleak point in their adventure. It didn’t help that the slave driver (yours truly) took them immediately off the bus in Fes to walk through the medina to see the tannery. I thought it was a lovely stroll; they titled it a “forced march.” Alright, I own that one... my bad, I’m sorry. I just forget that other people don’t have to walk 2 miles to get a ride anytime you want to go somewhere. I find walking therapeutic; I guess this is not the commonly held belief.
One down side to seeing my parents reaction to all the things I accept as part of life is that I realized how much I have changed... and I begin to worry I really, really won’t fit in when I get back home. It’s a good thing you guys love me, b/c I’m going to be testing the limits until I readjust.
After taking my parents on a short visit around Morocco we took a week and went up to Spain. Oh my heaves, it was glorious! We went to see Alhambra in Granada, and we saw the Hotel America. Mom snapped a picture of the sign in such a way that it said “Hotel ‘Merica”- Facebook download pending. I got a kick out of it when we made a 3 hour trip to Great Britain in the form of Gibraltar (I got to see the monkeys! And our bus driver got one to jump onto my shoulder... hee hee hee) Of course while we were in GB we ate fish and chips, I felt very authentic. We made a couple of other stops here and there but my favorite place was Barcelona. It was so much fun! We saw Gaudi’s Cathedral and I have to tell you, if you were to visit Spain and only got to see the Cathedral it would be a trip worth doing.
EEEEEEEEEE! After we went to the Cathedral we passed a... STARBUCKS! Are they the devil? Yes. But I have been living in a developing country for over a year and that Carmel Macchiato was glorious! I even made my parents take a picture of me with said beverage in front of said store to prove I wasn’t dreaming.
So I have to say that the trip was a definite success.
I got home from this grand adventure and almost immediately had to take a work trip to Rabat (the capitol of Morocco) where PC HQ is so I could have my mid service medical check-up. A clean bill of health... ish. At least I don’t have any parasites (nearly all PCVs end up with some type) I do have giarrdia but it’s a minor case and since it’s unavoidable the doctors say it’s better I just wait until the end of my service to treat it. In the spirit of open mindedness, and since I’m going to be spending so much time with it, I named it Leroy.
So that took a little less than a week and I was finally free to go home. Now the thing about my home is that it’s made out of mud brick. This is quaint most of the time... except it’s been raining for the last three weeks and last sat (when I’d been home for about two days) my roof caved in! Ok I’m exaggerating, I just wound up with more holes in the roof then I had buckets and it was basically raining inside my house. This wouldn't be quite so bad except a leak in your mud brick roof doesn’t just mean the rain comes in; it means a stream of mud comes in. Blah. So with my main room quickly becoming a swimming pool I packed up all of my possessions and moved into the spare room of a PCV who lives near me. I’m just glad I have someone so close to me and that I so few belongings that everything I have only fills half of that spare room. I am now in the process of finding a new home. There was a bright side to this event, though; I have been planning on moving into the village i am now in for a few weeks now. This just accelerated the process. Huzzah.
Alright my dearly beloved, you are now updated to all of the events in my life. Next week I am headed back to Essouara for the Ganoua Music Festival where I will offer free blood pressure testing to people as a ploy to get them to listen to our health lessons. I was at this event last year and i had so much fun i know this will be equally as fabulous. It’s kind of weird to me that I have been here long enough to be doing my second anything when it comes to annual stuff. This was my second birthday in March, we just finished my second spring, it’s getting back into the hundreds and so marks the beginning of my second summer, this is my second Ganaua... weird, mes amis, very, very weird. Funny thing about this being my second summer, I was walking down the street this morning thinking, “Oh this is lovely, maybe it’s going to be a mild summer.” Then I saw the bank thermometer when I got into town... it was 100 degrees at 9 am. Maybe I’m just adjusted, or maybe once you’ve lived through 120 degrees, 100 degrees is nothing.
Ah well, I must be off to the market, those lovely summer veggies are calling my name.
Ciao!
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
If Adventure Doesx Not Befall a Young Lady in Her Own Village, She Must Go Out and Find It Herself
Thank you Jane Austin.
Good heavens timing is passing at an alarming rate! First in that it’s been two months since my last update- oops, sorry- and second in that I have been in that fabulously interesting country for a whole year now... jeezy creezy! I’m just going to apologize now for what I know will be a very long entry.
Starting at the beginning since my last update would be late Jan early Feb. This was a pretty boring time for me because it was still too cold to even think properly, let alone actually do stuff. This entire time period would be utterly unworthy of mention were it not for all the political hubbub here in the Arab world: first in Tunisia, then Egypt, now Algeria, Libya, Mauritania, and (sort of) Morocco. I have to say this is a really, really exciting time to be living in this part of the world. History is totally changing, never before in all history have Arabs risen up against their leaders. If you guys haven’t been following the stuff in this part of the world I suggest you look into it, Tunisia and Egypt are the coolest, Libya is the saddest.
In the spirit of not posting a novel of an update I’m only going to talk about Morocco’s reaction to the political upheaval. This is b/c it’s not really in the news that much and b/c it’s the topic that applies to me and tells you if you should be worried about me. In brief, don’t worry. ;P
There’s a bit of background about Morocco I want you all to know before I describe the people’s actions. Moroccans are not Arabs, even those that call themselves “Arabs” only use this moniker in comparison to the native Amazir ppl. If you ask them if they’re Arab like Egypt they will say, no we’re Moroccan; I love taxi drivers b/c they love to talk so I learn a lot about the country this way. In Rabat, Casablanca, and Midelt three different shifurs (taxi drivers) said the same thing, “Politics are stupid, Morocco is Muslim not Arab.” When I asked if they were going to have demonstrations like Egypt or Algeria I got a, you-done-bummpt-yo-head look and they all said, “We will never do what Algeria does” Hee, I really do love these ppl, they are so predictably stubborn. In case I’m not making sense in this, let me shorten it to this, Morocco is an island in the Arab world
This unique identity means that they don’t feel like they have to unify with other Islamic countries. There have been a handful of riots in big cities, rumor has it a few buildings have been burned out (everything’s made of cement so they burn out rather than down) because they do want change within the government but it’s nothing like what the rest of North Africa is going through. There are a lot of demonstrations all over but these are really chill. For example, in my souk town they have a demonstration every Sunday at 4:30 but they walk through the streets holding Moroccan flags, and one Che Guevara flag, it’s more like a parade than a rebellion, though. I asked a girls standing next to me what they wanted to change and she said that they like the government and the king they just want different ppl in the political positions. 75- 80% of the population is under 35 years old but the whole government (except the King) are over 60 years old. The ppl what to be represented in their own government. The lady (about my age) asked me if I thought what the group was doing was bad. I told her I’m an American, we believe everyone should be able to speak and be heard, in the streets and in the government. She got this huge smile and said, “This is why Morocco and America are friends, we agree. America is very, very good.”
Hells to the yeah, my friend, hells to the yeah.
One actual riot against the man did happen in the village I do most of my work in; it was done by my students. I wasn’t there to see it b/c one of my students called me the night before and said, “Don’t come to school tomorrow, we are going to demonstrate against the school so no one will come to class. Can you come the day after to teach class?” Oh you wild and crazy high schoolers, in the end they did get a bit roucus, they broke a window in the school. Want to know what their demands from the school were? A changing room to have some where to change in their PE clothes, doors on the bathroom stalls, and getting rid of a teacher thet don’t like- all reasonable except the teacher, she’s just doing her job.
In other news, i've now had my 2nd of 3 birthdays in Morocco, one more and I'm Hooomewaard bound! Que music. ;P That, coupled with my one year in country anniversary seemed to be everyone's signal to give me work- i am not complaining! In Jan I was doing bupkiss, now I am teaching a health club in one of the cities near me, working with a drama club to teach other people health lessons in another, Teaching a weekly women's health class in that village, organizing a 5km AIDs Awareeness run at the end of April, and talking with some town's men about setting up a landfill and trash pick up system... But that's just the immediate future, I have a few other projects coming up in the Fall but I'll think about those later. :) Can I get Lahumdullah? Lahumdullah!
Phew! This is long!
Next, HA do you guys remember my finding people's need, and woeful inability, to identify my national hertiage? I can not tell you how many times ppl in America would assume me to be Native American, Latina, Jewish, or just generally Mediterranean? Well the tradition coninues here and it seems to be getting harder and harder for ppl to catch my roots. when I forst arrived in country Moroccans would ask if I was French or Spanish. Now They ask me if I'm Moroccan or Spanish. But the cake takers, I think, were two guys in two cities with in the same week who asked me if I am Japanese... Side note, these ppl know what the Japanese look like, Japan has a Peace Corps here in Morocco and both cities where i was have JIKA volunteers in them... I guess my features are really, really enigmatic. lol, This just goes to show that racism is stupid and pointless.
OK I think I've gone on enough for now
Peace, love, and rainbows for you all!
Good heavens timing is passing at an alarming rate! First in that it’s been two months since my last update- oops, sorry- and second in that I have been in that fabulously interesting country for a whole year now... jeezy creezy! I’m just going to apologize now for what I know will be a very long entry.
Starting at the beginning since my last update would be late Jan early Feb. This was a pretty boring time for me because it was still too cold to even think properly, let alone actually do stuff. This entire time period would be utterly unworthy of mention were it not for all the political hubbub here in the Arab world: first in Tunisia, then Egypt, now Algeria, Libya, Mauritania, and (sort of) Morocco. I have to say this is a really, really exciting time to be living in this part of the world. History is totally changing, never before in all history have Arabs risen up against their leaders. If you guys haven’t been following the stuff in this part of the world I suggest you look into it, Tunisia and Egypt are the coolest, Libya is the saddest.
In the spirit of not posting a novel of an update I’m only going to talk about Morocco’s reaction to the political upheaval. This is b/c it’s not really in the news that much and b/c it’s the topic that applies to me and tells you if you should be worried about me. In brief, don’t worry. ;P
There’s a bit of background about Morocco I want you all to know before I describe the people’s actions. Moroccans are not Arabs, even those that call themselves “Arabs” only use this moniker in comparison to the native Amazir ppl. If you ask them if they’re Arab like Egypt they will say, no we’re Moroccan; I love taxi drivers b/c they love to talk so I learn a lot about the country this way. In Rabat, Casablanca, and Midelt three different shifurs (taxi drivers) said the same thing, “Politics are stupid, Morocco is Muslim not Arab.” When I asked if they were going to have demonstrations like Egypt or Algeria I got a, you-done-bummpt-yo-head look and they all said, “We will never do what Algeria does” Hee, I really do love these ppl, they are so predictably stubborn. In case I’m not making sense in this, let me shorten it to this, Morocco is an island in the Arab world
This unique identity means that they don’t feel like they have to unify with other Islamic countries. There have been a handful of riots in big cities, rumor has it a few buildings have been burned out (everything’s made of cement so they burn out rather than down) because they do want change within the government but it’s nothing like what the rest of North Africa is going through. There are a lot of demonstrations all over but these are really chill. For example, in my souk town they have a demonstration every Sunday at 4:30 but they walk through the streets holding Moroccan flags, and one Che Guevara flag, it’s more like a parade than a rebellion, though. I asked a girls standing next to me what they wanted to change and she said that they like the government and the king they just want different ppl in the political positions. 75- 80% of the population is under 35 years old but the whole government (except the King) are over 60 years old. The ppl what to be represented in their own government. The lady (about my age) asked me if I thought what the group was doing was bad. I told her I’m an American, we believe everyone should be able to speak and be heard, in the streets and in the government. She got this huge smile and said, “This is why Morocco and America are friends, we agree. America is very, very good.”
Hells to the yeah, my friend, hells to the yeah.
One actual riot against the man did happen in the village I do most of my work in; it was done by my students. I wasn’t there to see it b/c one of my students called me the night before and said, “Don’t come to school tomorrow, we are going to demonstrate against the school so no one will come to class. Can you come the day after to teach class?” Oh you wild and crazy high schoolers, in the end they did get a bit roucus, they broke a window in the school. Want to know what their demands from the school were? A changing room to have some where to change in their PE clothes, doors on the bathroom stalls, and getting rid of a teacher thet don’t like- all reasonable except the teacher, she’s just doing her job.
In other news, i've now had my 2nd of 3 birthdays in Morocco, one more and I'm Hooomewaard bound! Que music. ;P That, coupled with my one year in country anniversary seemed to be everyone's signal to give me work- i am not complaining! In Jan I was doing bupkiss, now I am teaching a health club in one of the cities near me, working with a drama club to teach other people health lessons in another, Teaching a weekly women's health class in that village, organizing a 5km AIDs Awareeness run at the end of April, and talking with some town's men about setting up a landfill and trash pick up system... But that's just the immediate future, I have a few other projects coming up in the Fall but I'll think about those later. :) Can I get Lahumdullah? Lahumdullah!
Phew! This is long!
Next, HA do you guys remember my finding people's need, and woeful inability, to identify my national hertiage? I can not tell you how many times ppl in America would assume me to be Native American, Latina, Jewish, or just generally Mediterranean? Well the tradition coninues here and it seems to be getting harder and harder for ppl to catch my roots. when I forst arrived in country Moroccans would ask if I was French or Spanish. Now They ask me if I'm Moroccan or Spanish. But the cake takers, I think, were two guys in two cities with in the same week who asked me if I am Japanese... Side note, these ppl know what the Japanese look like, Japan has a Peace Corps here in Morocco and both cities where i was have JIKA volunteers in them... I guess my features are really, really enigmatic. lol, This just goes to show that racism is stupid and pointless.
OK I think I've gone on enough for now
Peace, love, and rainbows for you all!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Le gasp! Is it really 2011?
I don't know where the time goes but wherever it went it did so quickly!
Whew, where to begin? If Julie Andrews taught us anything it's that the beginning is the best place to begin.
The week after my last post the olive harvest began in my area. This is the major cash crop for most of my villages so everyone and their grandmother (literally) went out to the field to work. I didn't want to be left out of all the fun so I put on my lets-get-grubby- face and trecked out to the fields; I had so much fun I can't believe it! So the way olives are harvested pretty much hasn't changed since the first olive harvest took place in the fields of Ur: the women put big rugs under the tress and hit the lower branches with big sticks to nock all the olives down while the men climbe the trees and do the same to the higher branches. I, being foriegn ands an owner of denim jeans, got to help in whatever capacity I wanted... I was up the nearest tree so quickly the woman who had been stading nearest to me looked around and said; "where'd she go?" I spent the next two days monkying through the green foliege hunting the small black fruits.
I'm sure most ppl who have never helped in the olive harvest think this is not a very interesting story. You have to see it from a big picture kind of way. This is something that has been done for eons exactly the same way! This is something that not only Jesus probably did, but Mohammed, Abraham, and Noah too! Not only that but thousands, if not millions, of ppl were doing the same thing all over the world at the exact same time! WOW!!
After the harvest there was Christmas, we had the most relaxing Christmas I think I have ever had: there was feasting, festivity, and even some frisbeeing. I'm afraid there is no epic tale to share about my Yule tide.
New Years, however, is a very different story. A couple of the PCVs in the area took the weekend off and went south to the Sahara and rode camels out to the middle of the dunes! Oh my heavens it was so very much fun. There was a huge group of ppl from Ireland, Italy, Spain, France, and the US and we all rode camels an hour into the desert where we spent the night in traditional nomadic tents. When we reached camp we were at the base of the biggest dune in the area so a bunch of us decided to climb it... that took 2 hours. From the top we could see Algeria we were so high. We watched the sun set from there. We spent the rest of the night singing traditional Moroccan songs sitting around a bon fire. Definitely a New Years to be remembered.
Last week was back to work for me, I guess my Peace Corps can't be all climbinbg trees and sitting ontop of smelly herbivores.
I spent the week working with KOICA (South Korea's version of the Peace Corps). Frist I went to Rabat (the capital) for some training and team bonding. There I joined up with some other PCVs and we met the 15 or so KOICA volunteers and the 5 Moroccan teachers who were working with us. This was fabulous b/c only 4 of the non-PCVs spoke English; this ment there was a lot of French used when I worked with the Moroccans and a lot of charades used Witht the Koreans. Fun fact: there is no way to use hand gestures for "glitter". This is significant b/c we used glitter to teach hand washing lessons but glitter just isn't one of those words that ever made it onto any of the grammer quiz lists in anyones' studies. In the end I showed them the rhine stones on my glasses and made a sprinkling gesture with my hands. HA! I'll bet you all thought my sparkly glasses were frivelous and silly; little did you know we would have been lost without them. Yes I'm feeling smug. :D
Phew! Alright, that brings you all up to date on my life as of today. I hope you guys are all doing well... you know you guys could tell me how you are all doing. I have email, snail mail,... you could even comment on these blogs... I miss you guys.
Whew, where to begin? If Julie Andrews taught us anything it's that the beginning is the best place to begin.
The week after my last post the olive harvest began in my area. This is the major cash crop for most of my villages so everyone and their grandmother (literally) went out to the field to work. I didn't want to be left out of all the fun so I put on my lets-get-grubby- face and trecked out to the fields; I had so much fun I can't believe it! So the way olives are harvested pretty much hasn't changed since the first olive harvest took place in the fields of Ur: the women put big rugs under the tress and hit the lower branches with big sticks to nock all the olives down while the men climbe the trees and do the same to the higher branches. I, being foriegn ands an owner of denim jeans, got to help in whatever capacity I wanted... I was up the nearest tree so quickly the woman who had been stading nearest to me looked around and said; "where'd she go?" I spent the next two days monkying through the green foliege hunting the small black fruits.
I'm sure most ppl who have never helped in the olive harvest think this is not a very interesting story. You have to see it from a big picture kind of way. This is something that has been done for eons exactly the same way! This is something that not only Jesus probably did, but Mohammed, Abraham, and Noah too! Not only that but thousands, if not millions, of ppl were doing the same thing all over the world at the exact same time! WOW!!
After the harvest there was Christmas, we had the most relaxing Christmas I think I have ever had: there was feasting, festivity, and even some frisbeeing. I'm afraid there is no epic tale to share about my Yule tide.
New Years, however, is a very different story. A couple of the PCVs in the area took the weekend off and went south to the Sahara and rode camels out to the middle of the dunes! Oh my heavens it was so very much fun. There was a huge group of ppl from Ireland, Italy, Spain, France, and the US and we all rode camels an hour into the desert where we spent the night in traditional nomadic tents. When we reached camp we were at the base of the biggest dune in the area so a bunch of us decided to climb it... that took 2 hours. From the top we could see Algeria we were so high. We watched the sun set from there. We spent the rest of the night singing traditional Moroccan songs sitting around a bon fire. Definitely a New Years to be remembered.
Last week was back to work for me, I guess my Peace Corps can't be all climbinbg trees and sitting ontop of smelly herbivores.
I spent the week working with KOICA (South Korea's version of the Peace Corps). Frist I went to Rabat (the capital) for some training and team bonding. There I joined up with some other PCVs and we met the 15 or so KOICA volunteers and the 5 Moroccan teachers who were working with us. This was fabulous b/c only 4 of the non-PCVs spoke English; this ment there was a lot of French used when I worked with the Moroccans and a lot of charades used Witht the Koreans. Fun fact: there is no way to use hand gestures for "glitter". This is significant b/c we used glitter to teach hand washing lessons but glitter just isn't one of those words that ever made it onto any of the grammer quiz lists in anyones' studies. In the end I showed them the rhine stones on my glasses and made a sprinkling gesture with my hands. HA! I'll bet you all thought my sparkly glasses were frivelous and silly; little did you know we would have been lost without them. Yes I'm feeling smug. :D
Phew! Alright, that brings you all up to date on my life as of today. I hope you guys are all doing well... you know you guys could tell me how you are all doing. I have email, snail mail,... you could even comment on these blogs... I miss you guys.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Cont. from before
Lol, sorry I cut myslf off mid word b/c I was skyping the parents and forgot that I was blogging too. Hee hee, hey! That's an idea, you should all set up skype accounts so I can talk to you guys, or at least leave skype messages.
So as I was saying before. I think the PCVs i my province deliberatly celebrate things in a hilariously non-sequitar manner. During CBT (remember those posts? they feel like a life time ago) we celbrated Easter at the Buddist's home, Halloween was celebrated by dining on sushi in Marrakech, Thanksgiving was enjoyed at the home of our beautiful PCV of Latina origin (I would like to specify here- for those who might be offended... it's funny. You know it. Admit it and set yourself free.);) and we will be spending a very festive and jouyous Christmas at the home of the only Errachidia/ Midelt resident Jew. Hee hee hee Have I mentiond I love my provintial gang? We're the nicest, prettiest, and best team-work-doing group in Morocco.
There, the gauntlet is thrown, if there are any other PCV Moroccans reading this, I dare you to prove me wrong!
In other news, there may not be any Christmas spirit here yet but I can tell I'm getting in the mood, I always celebrate the Holidays by cooking and it's no different here. But I must add, in reference to the song, No there is no Christmas in Africa... alas. If anyone wants to send me some snow I'de be glad. (Dearest brother, hint hint:P )
Ha! Here's a funny PCV Erika Story. One day I was feeling so sad that there's no Christmas and there aren't any evergreens here to have in my house (not even a Charlie Brown miskeen one!) so I drew one on a giant sheet of paper and taped it to my wall. And I drew an angel and some bulbs... and one charlie Brown Bulb in honor of how miskeen this is.
So as I was saying before. I think the PCVs i my province deliberatly celebrate things in a hilariously non-sequitar manner. During CBT (remember those posts? they feel like a life time ago) we celbrated Easter at the Buddist's home, Halloween was celebrated by dining on sushi in Marrakech, Thanksgiving was enjoyed at the home of our beautiful PCV of Latina origin (I would like to specify here- for those who might be offended... it's funny. You know it. Admit it and set yourself free.);) and we will be spending a very festive and jouyous Christmas at the home of the only Errachidia/ Midelt resident Jew. Hee hee hee Have I mentiond I love my provintial gang? We're the nicest, prettiest, and best team-work-doing group in Morocco.
There, the gauntlet is thrown, if there are any other PCV Moroccans reading this, I dare you to prove me wrong!
In other news, there may not be any Christmas spirit here yet but I can tell I'm getting in the mood, I always celebrate the Holidays by cooking and it's no different here. But I must add, in reference to the song, No there is no Christmas in Africa... alas. If anyone wants to send me some snow I'de be glad. (Dearest brother, hint hint:P )
Ha! Here's a funny PCV Erika Story. One day I was feeling so sad that there's no Christmas and there aren't any evergreens here to have in my house (not even a Charlie Brown miskeen one!) so I drew one on a giant sheet of paper and taped it to my wall. And I drew an angel and some bulbs... and one charlie Brown Bulb in honor of how miskeen this is.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Good heavens where does the time go? When last I checked in (poem not included) I was headed off to Azilal to work with Operation Smile... that was the beginning of October. Now it’s nearly Christmas... I blame ninja monkeys.
Whew, I have so very much to tell you all, my faithful and patient readers. Operation smile was amazing. When I agree to these shenanigans I assumed they would be having me do filing, and pushing a pen. Imagine my surprise when they threw me right into the thick of things. O. S. is based in the U.S. but it has branch offices all over the world. The offices represented this time around were the Casablanca, Rome, and Philippines offices. This meant all the doctors and anaesthesiologists
were Arabs, Italians, and Philippines. With so many nationalities and so many languages spoken they had to find one over arching language to speak; Italy’s primary languages are Italian and French, Morocco’s are Arabic, French, and Spanish, and the Philippines use Tonka, English, and French.
Therefore it should come as no surprise to anyone that the language selected was English. I’m stymied too. Even more flummoxing is that the American PCVs were chosen to be the translators for all the admin and patients. So who did I translate for? Ah well I am an EMT and therefore have “medical training” so I worked in the recovery room and translated and assisted the intensivist and the two nurses who worked with her. The intensivist’s name was Roberta (an Italian) and her nurses were Arab Moroccans (this means they speak Arabic instead of the Tamazirt I speak). Roberta
spoke Italian, Greek, English, and a little French, one nurse spoke Arabic and some English, and the second nurse spoke Arabic, a little English, and only knew the parts of French that Roberta didn’t know. This meant that not only was I translating between the patients and the doctors I was also translating between the doctors... after five days I had a splitting headache. It was a relief when the patiens came in after surgery b/c it meant no more talking for a while.
My job with the patients had 2 sides. 90% of our patients were between the ages of 6 months and 8; these patients were the hardest b/c they were just coming out from the gas when they would be wheeled in to us. This meant that we had someone who was too young to understand what had happened to them waking up in a room full of strangers in incredible pain. My job, along with my friend, and fellow EMT Andrew, was to play human straight jacket with the kids long enough for more drugs to kick in and knock them out. This was done to keep them from rolling off the bed or ripping out their IVs; it was actually kind of fun... as much fun as getting kicked and smacked
by semi- conscious wee ones can be. The 10% of the patients that were adults we helped were much easier. I just had to tell them in tam what the doctors told me in English; they usually nodded dreamily and then took a nap. They were nice.
The way the system works is that we spend the first two days of the week processing patients then we have three days of surgery. This operation we did over 170 surgeries and I saw all of them. When I got home all I wanted to do was sleep. Alas no sleep for me.
I was home for a few days then I had to head off to Marrakech for more PC meetings and training. That was quite the event. It’s a beautiful and historic city so it’s definitely worth seeing. The trouble is it’s also very touristy so it’s really expensive and, therefore, not somewhere you want to stay. Not only is it expensive but the taxi drivers assume all foreigners are tourists so they try to rip us
off. They also only speak French and Arabic. At this point my Tam is a million times better than my French so this was both hard and profoundly frustrating to me. One very eventful experience involved an especially persistent driver who would not take “let me out” for an answer.
It was about 10 pm and I was on my way home from dinner; my comrades were headed to the bar but I only had enough money for my taxi home so I said my goodbyes. I hailed a cab, climbed in, said the name of my hotel, and we were off. After about two blocks I realized the meter wasn’t on so I asked him to turn it on. He only spoke French so I only caught about half of his sentence but it amounted to, “No, it’s night time so the fare is extra.” I asked how much and he said something I
didn’t understand, I had to ask him three times before I got it... 50 dhs. BTW it was 18 dhs to the
restaurant from the hotel, naturally, I lost my temper. I said, “No, it’s 18 dhs from there to here so it should be 18 back.” He said, “No, it’s late. I won’t get anyone on the way back. You have to pay double for the trip.” (Double 18 is 32, not 50) I said, “No, it’s too much, pull over. I’m done.” At this point he backs down and says, “OK, OK 30 dhs.” Too late, I was way past bargaining. I said, “No, pull
over.” The guy kept driving and insisting that 30 was a fair price. So I popped the door open on the moving taxi... he turned on the meter. Hee hee hee. At this point I pull out my money and realize I only have 15 dhs so when the meter reached 15 I told that was all the money I had, he needed to pull over. To this he responded, “No, no, I have to take you all the way or God will punish me.” Not
only did I win, I also beat the system! I’m amazing.
Finally, back home. For the last two months my friend James and I have been working with one of our Moroccan friends to teach a class of 10 high school students about HIV/AIDs and have them paint a poster and write a skit. They are having a competition with other classes in the area led by other PCVs this weekend. I am so proud of my class; they have an amazing skit that totally defies what the world’s culture heretofore has taught. They are vilifying the disease rather than the people
who have it.
This project was moving along so smoothly and I had three others lined up to start doing at the local youth center where I could teach English, health lessons, and arts and crafts. I was just about to begin when all of a sudden the administrator was pulled and sent to another town a million miles away and wasn’t replaced. So the building has been closed since the end of October.
How can this happen? Well, around September the powers that be decided to shuffle state lines about a bit. The only trouble is that the different regional governments don’t communicate with one another. This meant that the 13 villages I live and work in wound up in a limbo like area... think the Afghanistan- Pakistan Border minus war and conflict. It was during this vague time that I was trying to get permission for my AIDs Awareness Project... that was dreadful. First I took a 45 min
taxi to Errachidia, my old capital city, and my officials informed me that my village was now in the Midelt province. I was nonplussed but accepted my fate. Took the 45 min taxi home then caught an hour long bus to Midelt, the capital of Midelt (they like to keep things simple). It was here that I was informed that my village was in Errachidia and the state lines hadn’t moved that far south... yeah. I
decided if the powers that be don’t care enough to figure out which province I was in they wouldn’t care if I taught some lessons; I was right, no one cared.
Long story short someone finally found their crayon and finished re drawing the state lines. I am now in Midelt. Upon realising that they had a new village with a fabulous administrator in the youth center they decided they had a better place for him. Thus they shipped him off elsewhere and forgot to file the “replace this guy” paper work. Hmph. With any luck this will soon be resolved.
In other news the weather is cooling off and the scorpions have all gone into hibernation, as have most of the more unpleasant bugs. Also, there is no heating in Moroccan houses so those that are still awake feel little need to come inside. I thought this was a great boon... until I was sitting in my main room one night and a mouse ran across the room. I was not impressed. The solution I came up with for this problem fits with another thing I’ve been thinking about for quite so time. A few
months ago my friends cat had kittens and I wanted one, now I had an excuse! We decided on her name by having her walk on James’ Italian book and the first name she put her paw on would be hers. Her name is Elizibetha, I call her Lizzy and she is so cute! Although one of the first things she did when I let her into the house was run full tilt into a wall and knock herself silly. It was in that moment I began to appreciate how a parent feels when they watch their child do something very, very stupid. It was a "Dear God, why did I get the retarded one?" moment.
This brings us to Thanksgiving. We had a small gathering of just the ppl who live nearby; it was nice but it’s just really hard to get into the holiday spirit when the leaves are only just beginning to turn. Back home the leaves have already fallen, been raked up, and snow fallen to cover the branches with whit instead of green and gold. I feel more like picking apples than singing carols. Ah well, I’ll
just appreciate being home for the Holidays more when I finally get there.
Hee hee, I think the Peace Corps Morocco/ Errachidia gang delibertly does things to m
Sorry for the length but this brings us up to today. I’ll try to do better next month.
Whew, I have so very much to tell you all, my faithful and patient readers. Operation smile was amazing. When I agree to these shenanigans I assumed they would be having me do filing, and pushing a pen. Imagine my surprise when they threw me right into the thick of things. O. S. is based in the U.S. but it has branch offices all over the world. The offices represented this time around were the Casablanca, Rome, and Philippines offices. This meant all the doctors and anaesthesiologists
were Arabs, Italians, and Philippines. With so many nationalities and so many languages spoken they had to find one over arching language to speak; Italy’s primary languages are Italian and French, Morocco’s are Arabic, French, and Spanish, and the Philippines use Tonka, English, and French.
Therefore it should come as no surprise to anyone that the language selected was English. I’m stymied too. Even more flummoxing is that the American PCVs were chosen to be the translators for all the admin and patients. So who did I translate for? Ah well I am an EMT and therefore have “medical training” so I worked in the recovery room and translated and assisted the intensivist and the two nurses who worked with her. The intensivist’s name was Roberta (an Italian) and her nurses were Arab Moroccans (this means they speak Arabic instead of the Tamazirt I speak). Roberta
spoke Italian, Greek, English, and a little French, one nurse spoke Arabic and some English, and the second nurse spoke Arabic, a little English, and only knew the parts of French that Roberta didn’t know. This meant that not only was I translating between the patients and the doctors I was also translating between the doctors... after five days I had a splitting headache. It was a relief when the patiens came in after surgery b/c it meant no more talking for a while.
My job with the patients had 2 sides. 90% of our patients were between the ages of 6 months and 8; these patients were the hardest b/c they were just coming out from the gas when they would be wheeled in to us. This meant that we had someone who was too young to understand what had happened to them waking up in a room full of strangers in incredible pain. My job, along with my friend, and fellow EMT Andrew, was to play human straight jacket with the kids long enough for more drugs to kick in and knock them out. This was done to keep them from rolling off the bed or ripping out their IVs; it was actually kind of fun... as much fun as getting kicked and smacked
by semi- conscious wee ones can be. The 10% of the patients that were adults we helped were much easier. I just had to tell them in tam what the doctors told me in English; they usually nodded dreamily and then took a nap. They were nice.
The way the system works is that we spend the first two days of the week processing patients then we have three days of surgery. This operation we did over 170 surgeries and I saw all of them. When I got home all I wanted to do was sleep. Alas no sleep for me.
I was home for a few days then I had to head off to Marrakech for more PC meetings and training. That was quite the event. It’s a beautiful and historic city so it’s definitely worth seeing. The trouble is it’s also very touristy so it’s really expensive and, therefore, not somewhere you want to stay. Not only is it expensive but the taxi drivers assume all foreigners are tourists so they try to rip us
off. They also only speak French and Arabic. At this point my Tam is a million times better than my French so this was both hard and profoundly frustrating to me. One very eventful experience involved an especially persistent driver who would not take “let me out” for an answer.
It was about 10 pm and I was on my way home from dinner; my comrades were headed to the bar but I only had enough money for my taxi home so I said my goodbyes. I hailed a cab, climbed in, said the name of my hotel, and we were off. After about two blocks I realized the meter wasn’t on so I asked him to turn it on. He only spoke French so I only caught about half of his sentence but it amounted to, “No, it’s night time so the fare is extra.” I asked how much and he said something I
didn’t understand, I had to ask him three times before I got it... 50 dhs. BTW it was 18 dhs to the
restaurant from the hotel, naturally, I lost my temper. I said, “No, it’s 18 dhs from there to here so it should be 18 back.” He said, “No, it’s late. I won’t get anyone on the way back. You have to pay double for the trip.” (Double 18 is 32, not 50) I said, “No, it’s too much, pull over. I’m done.” At this point he backs down and says, “OK, OK 30 dhs.” Too late, I was way past bargaining. I said, “No, pull
over.” The guy kept driving and insisting that 30 was a fair price. So I popped the door open on the moving taxi... he turned on the meter. Hee hee hee. At this point I pull out my money and realize I only have 15 dhs so when the meter reached 15 I told that was all the money I had, he needed to pull over. To this he responded, “No, no, I have to take you all the way or God will punish me.” Not
only did I win, I also beat the system! I’m amazing.
Finally, back home. For the last two months my friend James and I have been working with one of our Moroccan friends to teach a class of 10 high school students about HIV/AIDs and have them paint a poster and write a skit. They are having a competition with other classes in the area led by other PCVs this weekend. I am so proud of my class; they have an amazing skit that totally defies what the world’s culture heretofore has taught. They are vilifying the disease rather than the people
who have it.
This project was moving along so smoothly and I had three others lined up to start doing at the local youth center where I could teach English, health lessons, and arts and crafts. I was just about to begin when all of a sudden the administrator was pulled and sent to another town a million miles away and wasn’t replaced. So the building has been closed since the end of October.
How can this happen? Well, around September the powers that be decided to shuffle state lines about a bit. The only trouble is that the different regional governments don’t communicate with one another. This meant that the 13 villages I live and work in wound up in a limbo like area... think the Afghanistan- Pakistan Border minus war and conflict. It was during this vague time that I was trying to get permission for my AIDs Awareness Project... that was dreadful. First I took a 45 min
taxi to Errachidia, my old capital city, and my officials informed me that my village was now in the Midelt province. I was nonplussed but accepted my fate. Took the 45 min taxi home then caught an hour long bus to Midelt, the capital of Midelt (they like to keep things simple). It was here that I was informed that my village was in Errachidia and the state lines hadn’t moved that far south... yeah. I
decided if the powers that be don’t care enough to figure out which province I was in they wouldn’t care if I taught some lessons; I was right, no one cared.
Long story short someone finally found their crayon and finished re drawing the state lines. I am now in Midelt. Upon realising that they had a new village with a fabulous administrator in the youth center they decided they had a better place for him. Thus they shipped him off elsewhere and forgot to file the “replace this guy” paper work. Hmph. With any luck this will soon be resolved.
In other news the weather is cooling off and the scorpions have all gone into hibernation, as have most of the more unpleasant bugs. Also, there is no heating in Moroccan houses so those that are still awake feel little need to come inside. I thought this was a great boon... until I was sitting in my main room one night and a mouse ran across the room. I was not impressed. The solution I came up with for this problem fits with another thing I’ve been thinking about for quite so time. A few
months ago my friends cat had kittens and I wanted one, now I had an excuse! We decided on her name by having her walk on James’ Italian book and the first name she put her paw on would be hers. Her name is Elizibetha, I call her Lizzy and she is so cute! Although one of the first things she did when I let her into the house was run full tilt into a wall and knock herself silly. It was in that moment I began to appreciate how a parent feels when they watch their child do something very, very stupid. It was a "Dear God, why did I get the retarded one?" moment.
This brings us to Thanksgiving. We had a small gathering of just the ppl who live nearby; it was nice but it’s just really hard to get into the holiday spirit when the leaves are only just beginning to turn. Back home the leaves have already fallen, been raked up, and snow fallen to cover the branches with whit instead of green and gold. I feel more like picking apples than singing carols. Ah well, I’ll
just appreciate being home for the Holidays more when I finally get there.
Hee hee, I think the Peace Corps Morocco/ Errachidia gang delibertly does things to m
Sorry for the length but this brings us up to today. I’ll try to do better next month.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Holy-whatever-u-worship, where did November go?
Gah! I blink and it's December! What the kiblashery? so I have this lovely million mile long blog typed up and ready to be posted... on my laptop which I left at home. Hee hee... sorry. I'll post it when I'm in town again I promise! For now I shall write you all a poem thqt doesn't rhyme. Hey, if the Greeks can do it so can I.
Nine months in a foreign country.
Foreign smells, language, even minds.
When I lived in the US I took so much for granted.
Never again will I fail to acknowledge your gifts, oh toilet paper.
Yet nine months is not long at all.
A year ago next week I was told I would go on this adventure.
When last I posted I had not even thought of my
cotume for all Hallow's Eve.
Now I am making a paper tree to celebrate Christmas Eve.
Fini
I'll make up for it next time. the post is so long you'll need to take bathroom breaks. Like that billion hour Civil War movie Gods and Generals. Except mines better b/c the beards don't suck.
Stay tooned...
Nine months in a foreign country.
Foreign smells, language, even minds.
When I lived in the US I took so much for granted.
Never again will I fail to acknowledge your gifts, oh toilet paper.
Yet nine months is not long at all.
A year ago next week I was told I would go on this adventure.
When last I posted I had not even thought of my
cotume for all Hallow's Eve.
Now I am making a paper tree to celebrate Christmas Eve.
Fini
I'll make up for it next time. the post is so long you'll need to take bathroom breaks. Like that billion hour Civil War movie Gods and Generals. Except mines better b/c the beards don't suck.
Stay tooned...
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Oh My God It's October Already?
I have now been in country for seven months and am shocked to realize it. The newest wave of trainees arrived in Morocco a few weeks ago, it seems like just yesterday I was doing what they are now: using my first squatty potty, realizing the only dish washers here are at the distal end of each arm- good word to know, look it up, and hot running water is a gift from God. Ah, I laugh to think of these new, unbroken trainees... Actually I don't b/c these are all business and school volunteers so they'll all live in cities and never really see the rustic life. I feel sorry for them, PC will probablybe harder for them b/c they will continue to live the way they did in the States but w/ less advanced technology so they will be reminded every day of what they are doing w/o. I have simply upended my life all together and have mostly forgotten the technologies I once had. I actually didn't realize I didn't have a dish washer until a few weeks ago, it was weirder realizing I hadn't noticed than it was realizing I didn't have one. I was talking to a business PCV last week who still uses a hair dryer. I'm proud of myself if I was my hair more than once a week so the thought of a hair dryer left me speachless.
Yes,friends, I only wash my hair once or twice a week, and bathing happens even less often... I was able to avoid becoming a dirty hippy all through college yet 7 months in Morocco and I'm debating if dreds aren't an acceptable look after all. HA! gotcha, I'm not to dredlocks yet, I just wanted to scare you.
As for the blistering heat, yes it has finally broken. It dropped thirty degrees in about two weeks. This made me laugh because I was glorying in the cool weather when I saw the bank thermometer in town and realized if was a "cool" 90 degrees. I quess I'm aclimated. BTW, weather here isn'tlike weather back home. In CO it gets hot then cold and back to hot, etc. Here it's a constant wave, the temp gets war,er spring through fall then gets colder fall through spring. I kind of miss COs pschyzo weather, this is boring. I probably won't be saying boring in Jan after three months of 30 degrees.
Actually Oct is my favorite month so far. The weather is perfect it's just a little warmer than crisp but everything feels fresh... Like the weather back home around mid sept.
The older PCVs say it gets cold around Nov and snows Jan- Feb. This doesn't sound too bad... Ionly dread it because there are no heaters in this countery. Did I already tell you guys about this? If so please forgive me. There is only one kind of heater, its a small ceramic coil you twist into the top of a propane tank and light. Yes, a heater here is an open fire at the top of a propane tank. The PCV I replaced gave me hers but I'm definatly intimidated by it. I'll probably only use it when I have to bathe- that probably won't be very often- lol. Otherwise I'll be wrapped up in blankets drinking Hot cocoa. Yes, I have that here, I have to make the recipe myself b/c they sell unsweetened cacao powder here. Not comlaining, it's pretty good stuff and cheap too.
OK, so brief update since last blog.
I went to a city called Meknes a couple of weekends ago just for a break and I visited the ancient ruins outside the city. It was a Roman city called Volubilis and the ruins were amazing! The fact that they could do these amazing works of art and architecture two thousand years ago boggles the mind. The Romans might have had their flaws but you have to hand it to them for their engineering too.
The week after that we had a festival called the Wedding Festival just outside of a mountain town called Imilchil. A group of PCVs worked a health booth educating ppl about blood pressure and why high blood pressure is a problem. There were 5 ppl in the booth trained to take blood pressures and we were able to take well over 500 bps in 2 days.Yes I feel like strutting around going, "Look at me and my bad self." It's not surprising that we had so many ppl at the booth. Remember when you were a little kid- unless you're like me in which case, remember last week?- and you would go to the bp machine in the King Soopers Pharmacie just to have the machine test you heart rate and bp even though you had no idea what it meant. That's how Moroccans are with regular bp cuffs. They don't know what it means they just like to sit there. At the booth we would explain why they should care about their bps- it helped that they were attached to the cuff when we started talking so they couldn't escape. HAhahaha, I forced knowledge on them, I am so crafty.
HA just noticed I spelled Pharmecy w/ an ie and I'm leaving it b/c that's the French and it makes me laugh that I had to read the word three times before I figures out why I thought it looked funny.
Alright friends, I must dash, I am headed to a city called Azilal -check ur maps to find me- to help an American NGO called Operation Smile. For thos ethat don't know they're a group that preforms free surgeries on bebies born with cleft pallets. Since I have medical training- not much but it's enough I guess- they need me- and the other EMS PCVs- to help with pre and post op patients. In other words, I'm off to go help babies have a brand new start at life! Be jealous bwahahahaha! I'm totally being a jerk on perpose, Operation Smile has offices State side too so instead of being jealous you should contact them and help out.Heeheehee, was that manipulative?
OK must dash, wish me luck!
Yes,friends, I only wash my hair once or twice a week, and bathing happens even less often... I was able to avoid becoming a dirty hippy all through college yet 7 months in Morocco and I'm debating if dreds aren't an acceptable look after all. HA! gotcha, I'm not to dredlocks yet, I just wanted to scare you.
As for the blistering heat, yes it has finally broken. It dropped thirty degrees in about two weeks. This made me laugh because I was glorying in the cool weather when I saw the bank thermometer in town and realized if was a "cool" 90 degrees. I quess I'm aclimated. BTW, weather here isn'tlike weather back home. In CO it gets hot then cold and back to hot, etc. Here it's a constant wave, the temp gets war,er spring through fall then gets colder fall through spring. I kind of miss COs pschyzo weather, this is boring. I probably won't be saying boring in Jan after three months of 30 degrees.
Actually Oct is my favorite month so far. The weather is perfect it's just a little warmer than crisp but everything feels fresh... Like the weather back home around mid sept.
The older PCVs say it gets cold around Nov and snows Jan- Feb. This doesn't sound too bad... Ionly dread it because there are no heaters in this countery. Did I already tell you guys about this? If so please forgive me. There is only one kind of heater, its a small ceramic coil you twist into the top of a propane tank and light. Yes, a heater here is an open fire at the top of a propane tank. The PCV I replaced gave me hers but I'm definatly intimidated by it. I'll probably only use it when I have to bathe- that probably won't be very often- lol. Otherwise I'll be wrapped up in blankets drinking Hot cocoa. Yes, I have that here, I have to make the recipe myself b/c they sell unsweetened cacao powder here. Not comlaining, it's pretty good stuff and cheap too.
OK, so brief update since last blog.
I went to a city called Meknes a couple of weekends ago just for a break and I visited the ancient ruins outside the city. It was a Roman city called Volubilis and the ruins were amazing! The fact that they could do these amazing works of art and architecture two thousand years ago boggles the mind. The Romans might have had their flaws but you have to hand it to them for their engineering too.
The week after that we had a festival called the Wedding Festival just outside of a mountain town called Imilchil. A group of PCVs worked a health booth educating ppl about blood pressure and why high blood pressure is a problem. There were 5 ppl in the booth trained to take blood pressures and we were able to take well over 500 bps in 2 days.Yes I feel like strutting around going, "Look at me and my bad self." It's not surprising that we had so many ppl at the booth. Remember when you were a little kid- unless you're like me in which case, remember last week?- and you would go to the bp machine in the King Soopers Pharmacie just to have the machine test you heart rate and bp even though you had no idea what it meant. That's how Moroccans are with regular bp cuffs. They don't know what it means they just like to sit there. At the booth we would explain why they should care about their bps- it helped that they were attached to the cuff when we started talking so they couldn't escape. HAhahaha, I forced knowledge on them, I am so crafty.
HA just noticed I spelled Pharmecy w/ an ie and I'm leaving it b/c that's the French and it makes me laugh that I had to read the word three times before I figures out why I thought it looked funny.
Alright friends, I must dash, I am headed to a city called Azilal -check ur maps to find me- to help an American NGO called Operation Smile. For thos ethat don't know they're a group that preforms free surgeries on bebies born with cleft pallets. Since I have medical training- not much but it's enough I guess- they need me- and the other EMS PCVs- to help with pre and post op patients. In other words, I'm off to go help babies have a brand new start at life! Be jealous bwahahahaha! I'm totally being a jerk on perpose, Operation Smile has offices State side too so instead of being jealous you should contact them and help out.Heeheehee, was that manipulative?
OK must dash, wish me luck!
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