The rollercoaster ride of these past weeks cannot even be described in words. Below is a blog in which I drafted last night but did not feel ready to share:
“These past few weeks have been quite the roller coaster here in Ouled Dahou. Since last writing, I have moved into a new house and have continued my teaching. I have been working really hard at integrating into my community, accepting every tea and couscous offer I get (even if that means I have to force myself to eat some sheep intestines, which I still haven’t mastered without getting sick). I have befriended all my Hanut owners (which is only 3) and one has even started teaching me how to crochet. With all this being said, not everything has been happy dandy in my small village.
The old neighbor that I changed apartments because of has started to stalk me. He figured out my daily routines and waits for me at various parts of my village so that he can follow me. Sometimes when I see him I take a different, longer route, but it is no good. He knows there is only one place I’m heading, and meets me there. My host family has started warning me against going to specific places in fear that I might run into him while I am alone, keep in mind my village is only about 300 people to begin with, so places to visit are already very limited. The fear I used to have while entering the apartment, scared he might corner me in the stairwell again, is now the fear I feel walking along the dirt roads to and from my dar chebab. The entire time I think about what I would do if he tried something. Constantly looking back to make sure he hasn’t gotten too close to me. I spend my nights lying awake in bed, turning the light on with every noise I hear. I then spend my days being tired and full of anxiety. The more time I spend thinking about it, the more annoyed I get, but it seems to be the only thing on my mind lately.
The frustration of the people in my community not understanding why I am so scared of this man. One of my counterparts told me for weeks that I am probably just worrying too much, until he walked me home one night and saw how he stands and waits for me at the dark corner just staring at me while I walk by. When he witnessed this for the first time he simply replied, “wow, okay you officially have a stalker,” and hasn’t let me walk home alone from the dar chebab since. “Well he hasn’t really done anything to you besides ask you to marry him and watch you,” the others always tell me. Yet, they don’t have to share the unbearable feeling of unease that I experience every time he holds his heart, as if its aching, when he sees me, with his bloodshot eyes. Or the fear I feel when I am getting vegetables from my veggie man and the old neighbor walks out of the café so I know he is watching me and starts following me home until I walk fast enough that he is out of site.
The frustration I have with myself when my body freezes and I am unable to say anything when he does follow me. When he reached out to grab me and told me he wanted to marry me the first time, my only reaction was to pull away and to say, “Sorry.” Sorry?!?! Seriously?!?! Why was that the only word that I could let slip out of my mouth? People in my village keep telling me to yell at him, I wish I could. It’s the same frustration I felt when I was in a grand taxi having a man grope my butt. I was too shocked to react, all it would have taken was yelling “Hshuma” at him but instead I froze. Then sometimes, I sit here and ask myself why I should have to find a way to react to these things anyways. Maybe I should not be forced to be in a situation in which I am so scared that my mind goes blank.
The past few days I have been talking a lot about going home. A few months ago, I would have never imagined ever experiencing this feeling, but now it is all I have longed for over a week now. I long for the sense of safety again, a good night’s sleep, and the comfort of familiar people around me. As I have expressed my feelings to some of my friends from home, they respond by telling me this is my dream and I would regret going home. My dream was to immerse myself into another culture, help the people of that community, and to ultimately find myself, as cliché as that sounds. My dream was not to lose who I was and live in fear. The past two months I have been stalked and harassed nonstop, the toll that takes on your mind and body cannot be expressed in words. It makes you doubt yourself and sometimes it even makes you hate yourself for being so vulnerable to such a thing.
My 5 months here in Morocco have been nothing less of spectacular. I have met some of the most loving, caring people, which I cannot imagine saying goodbye to, whether it be a few weeks from now or 22 months from now. I have cried, I have laughed, and I have laughed so much that I cried. I put myself out there and I tested my health as well as mental and physical strength. I have had some absolutely amazing volunteers there by my side to experience all these things with me. I learned a lot about myself and I adapted my behavior to this beautiful culture. With that being said, most importantly, I have figured out myself and understand my needs enough to feel okay with the fact that I doubt staying here, regardless of what others think or say about it.”
So now, let’s review what has happened since then. As I said, I was on a grand taxi ride up to Rabat. I was going to Rabat to talk to the people of Peace Corps headquarters about what has been going on. I was prepared to walk into the office and tell them that I am heading home. Fortunately, that is not what actually happened. Instead, I finally got professional help and advice on the topic. I had people understand me and not question my own sanity. I had people support me and truly care for my wellbeing and safety. The woman in charge of safety and security touched my heart today in a way that I will never forget. I feel as if this past week, I lost my spark, I completely forgot the reason why I am here; she relit it for me. She believed in me and would not let me give up on something that I worked so hard to be a part of. She gave me back my inspiration and determination.
It was concluded that I would apply for a site change due to serious safety issues in my current site. In the meantime, I will be living with two volunteers in a city close to my current site, who have been by my side faithfully through this whole mess. I will be volunteering with them at their dar chebab and nedi neswi until Peace Corps approves my request for a site change and finds a new site for me. At first, I was very hesitant on having to starting all over again but I have decided to accept it with an open mind. So here is to starting over! Now, I would like to end this long rant with a quote from one of my fellow staj mates (shout out to you, Evelyn), “Without challenge, there is no change.”
A 27 Month Journey 