The legalisation office

Rough hands
Slough me atop a pile
With the rest of the cadavers
Faces red-inky, fixed and sticky
In two dimensions

We’ve been split apart
Under close observation
Then quickly forgotten
Cash made, men paid
Histrionics maintained

I would love to have posted a picture to go with this short piece, though even after my extensive Photoshop work blurring out names, numbers, stamps and signatures, the fear of being arrested remained. Imagine, if you will, that in order to extend my stay over the three months initially allowed for Australians, it was necessary for me to get no fewer than 30 copies of various documents officially authorised. I don’t know where they are now. Though, of course, I’m sure they are in good hands!

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Stay tuned for more music!

In addition to my update on work, play and pain below, I thought I’d just post a short update about my music. After spending the large part of two months lazing around on the couch, my guitar has *hurrah!* decided to forgive me my infidelity and take me back. Since last weekend, I have been furiously writing and composing, and feeling so inspired! Today I sat with my window open, the sun pouring in, and spent hours rediscovering myself musically, playing around with new chord progressions and riffs, and jotting down lyrics and ideas.

Photography: Kim Holgate-Ryan

I was feeling a bit guilty and sad about not  being able to find the time to do something that I love so much, and that makes me so happy, though I suppose that often it’s actually a good thing to take a step back from creating; to let yourself absorb new and familiar surroundings and experiences alike, without thinking too much about how you can use those things for the production of your music.

Because I’d been so busy (and still am) I hadn’t really noticed I’d not only stopped playing, but stopped listening too. So I’ve started listening again to some great music both new and old; after reconnecting with both my music and that of others it feels like a new creative space has opened up! I’m really excited to be able to share some of my new material with you soon via YouTube.

Thank you also for everyone who has bought my album, and made such incredible comments about it. If you haven’t checked it out already, you can visit the ‘my music’ page on this blog on which you can play a number of tracks, or go to my Facebook page (in the right-hand sidebar of the blog).

Details of how to purchase a CD are available on both of these forums. They cost a measly $15 AUD + $3 postage, and include 7 original tracks in diverse styles.

What are you waiting for? More?

Well, stay tuned, *ahem*. You know what I mean.

Photography: Kim Holgate-Ryan

Moroccan healthcare: value for money (at least for some…)

Taroudannt mural depicting Gnawa musicians

I’ve been told I look quite comical writing my blog entry today. I’m sitting on one of the house’s many couches, with my knees bent and my laptop precariously balanced on top of them, in an attempt to keep everything at eye level. This somewhat unnatural contortion (for me, anyway) follows an excruciating last four days with debilitating shoulder and neck pain, which I have become convinced is caused by the not-so-ergonomic plastic chair I sit on every day in the office, my desk being too low, a bad night’s sleep, riding my bike over bumps in the road and slumping over my guitar. Of course, a small disclaimer regarding the writing: I will make the effort to spell check though please be so kind as to forgive any oversights due to the seesaw effect my computer has as I hit the keys.

Yes, it has been a painful few days. Though luckily for me, there are pretty decent healthcare services in Taroudannt, Morocco, and I so I was able to visit the physio yesterday. Of course, being from Australia where you pay through the nose, and by the minute, and generally get the vibe that your physician is glancing at his/her watch as you’re lying face down and ‘oblivious’, coupled with the fact that I am ostensibly a ‘tourist’ and didn’t want to get ripped off, I was pretty keen to get a general idea of how much bang I’d get for my 100 Dirham ($10 AUD) buck. I received a range of responses as to the length of the session: a vague “Oh, between 15 minutes and half an hour”, said one friend, “it depends” said the receptionist upon my arrival. Depends on the extent to which you are out of whack, I took that to mean.

I must have been really, really out of whack. For an equivalent of $10 AUD, I was in session for no fewer than two hours, and worked on by three different doctors who insisted on remarking every five minutes on the poor diagnosis (something I felt didn’t bear that much repetition given my acute awareness of my condition, stemming from an incapacity for any movement whatsoever in the upper region of my body).

After a massage and an ultrasound treatment, and more remarks on the direness of my condition, I was somberly informed that I had to be hooked up to some electrodes. Having not experienced such a treatment at any Australian physio before, I,*ahem* asked a few questions, whilst trying to suppress a vivid mental recreation of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest though with me as the protagonist and in a more exotic setting. After my fears had been appeased, and following twenty minutes hooked up to this thing – a machine that contracts and relaxes your muscles – I think I am going to invest in one. Success!

With my newfound mobility, I went for a walk. I decided just to walk and keep on walking; to venture into a part of town that I might not have stumbled on before. I suppose it was a bit of a meditation for me, and it was made even more lovely by the fact that my boyfriend in Australia was taking a walk with me – though he in Australia. Just as an aside, and without wanting to harp on about love and relationships and all that mushy stuff that I firmly believe should be kept between two people and not on blogs, I will just say that for anyone trying to overcome the natural challenges of a long distance relationship, we’ve found that this synchronisation of activities is a really nice way to connect besides just talking on the phone. I mention this in the hope that it will save others the time it took us to realise that when we’re at home together we don’t just talk – we do other stuff too – so why just consign yourself to phone conversation after phone conversation when you’re apart?!

Anyway, enough of that! Whilst on this walk, I deliberately ventured into a new part of town, winding through the backstreets just inside the city walls. Here, I made a glorious discovery:  a small community garden, around which all the walls of peoples’ houses were decorated with beautiful murals. I have posted a couple of pictures – the first (above) is a depiction of some gnawa musicians (a spiritual and repetitive type of Moroccan music in which the musicians play to induce a trance-like meditative state in the listeners). Below are three parts of an eight-piece image, which I thought were so lovely I just had to share them with you. I have translated the French for you below.

The first: “Each journey is the dream of a new birth”; the second: “The one who seeks the stars touches the moon”; and the third: “Don’t go where the path may lead, go where there is no path and leave a mark”. Such beautiful messages to find on such a meditative stroll.

Work has also been coming along fruitfully and enjoyably. We have been continuing with our weekly Women’s Group meetings in anticipation of creating an income-generating exercise based for the mothers of the children who visit the Centre AFAK (for children and their families in situations of difficulty) which is run by the local NGO Groupe Maroc Horizons with support from British NGO the Moroccan Children’s Trust. Each week my Moroccan colleague and I have been designing activities so that the women can engage with the creation of ideas and knowledge forming this enterprise. It’s truly inspiring to find that with each week the level of discussion amongst the women and their engagement with the process is increasing, and I can report that the great deal of information we have gathered with the women will now form the bones of the proper proposal for the enterprise.

In other news I am vastly looking forward to my mother, sister and a friend coming to Morocco in the first week of July! I will be taking a couple of weeks (well, 10-12 days) off from work so I can travel with them, and really get to see the country properly.  I will be catching a Grand Taxi to Marrakech then the overnight train to Tangier (the Northern tip), where I will meet up with them and slowly voyage back down to Taroudannt once more. I will also be enjoying a visit from my boyfriend at the start of October; though that seems just too far away to report on now (it needed a mention though, of course, due to my uncontainable excitement)!

Fear not, this victim of modernity and technology will be taking her conveniently small laptop with her during her travels, and will definitely be posting some beautiful photos and (hopefully) interesting commentary along the way. Stay tuned!

Bisalama,

Briony

I am now covered in henna

I am now covered in henna

protected by
a fragrant drying shell
reddish ink settles in
making a home
of two hands
and happy feet

What would WorkSafe have to say?

What would WorkSafe have to say?

There always seems to be a lot of construction work going on in Taroudannt, and coupled with that some very interesting scaffolding configurations. This photo, believe it or not, is of one of the less hairy set ups; honestly, if I’d taken a photo of the scaffolding adorning the construction that lay just around the corner from my house a couple of weeks ago, I think the click of the shutter might have collapsed the entire building. So instead of posting a picture of an entire support structure balanced on the end of one piece of wood which sat upon three precariously piled concrete blocks, I’m posting a picture of some bits of wood shoved into holes in the new wall (which ostensibly will be filled in later, perhaps from the inside?)

Throughout Morocco, you’ll find a lot of unfinished buildings like these. Usually they are big, square concrete structures with iron rods poking out from the ‘roof’, left there to facilitate future expansion. As far as I know there are two main reasons for this. The first is that in Morocco, as in other parts of the world, families stick together for as long as they are able. This means that as they expand, and as children grow up and have their own children, houses also tend to grow (upwards!) with new levels stacked on top of the existing structure so as to accommodate new family members. The second reason, I have been led to believe, is that an unfinished home commands fewer taxes…

I’m reluctant to make a value judgement on this one, but tend towards applauding a clever way to get around paying the Man in a country in which the taxes may not make their way back to the people anyway. That said, even though corruption exists the Moroccan government has taken steps to combat it, so…What do you think?

If only I liked watermelon…

If only I liked watermelon...

It has become apparent to me over the last few weeks that it is watermelon season in Morocco. Even though I have never had any interest whatsoever in eating the bland and watery, yet strangely popular, fruit, I must say I do enjoy them spilling out of shop fronts, tumbling off the back of donkey-drawn carts, or being smashed open theatrically on the ground by enthusiastic vendors. Luckily for me, I have managed to acquire a taste for cantaloupe, which is also in abundance, as well as many other different hybrids – I was shocked to find a yellowish melon I indulged in the other day tasted exactly like a pear. Innovation at its finest, I say.

Turns out that riding a bike is actually like riding a bike

Turns out that riding a bike is, indeed, like riding a bike

 

Couldn’t really help myself posting a snap of my new bike! (Exclamation point!)

I’d been toying with the idea of buying one for a few weeks; everyone in Taroudannt owns a bike, and being the absolute conformist and callous consumer that I am, I really wanted one. So on Sunday I found the energy from somewhere, braved the brutal heat and toddled off to the second hand bike market over the other side of town.

I emerged victorious, having paid the equivalent of about $70 AUD (700 Dirham) for a fixed gear complete with handy handlebar basket (for pet goat), working brakes (very important) and lock for ‘kidnappers’ (as was kindly explained to me). My happy success has been made even sweeter by friends’ many exclamations over my ‘sweet deal’. Always nice to know you haven’t been ripped off.

Though I haven’t ridden a bike for about a million years, I have found that funnily enough riding a bike is, well, like riding a bike. It’s bloody fast to whizz around the town now, and to my dismay I have come to the realisation that owning the same mode of transport as everyone else has indeed given me a sense that I’m, dare I say it, fitting in. Ugh. Well, at least it’s not a Mercedes.

Cous cous amongst wonderful friends

Cous cous amongst wonderful friends

The first thing my darling friend and star pupil said to me when I arrived at her house for a delicious cous cous lunch last week was (and in English, too): “Welcome! This is your home now too; you are welcome here any time. It’s very small and there are lots of us, but we are very happy here.”

Revelations in Conversation: Development and Education

Today, I was reminded of a conversation I had with my dad over a bottle of red and dinner a little while ago back in Australia.  As usual it was a lively discussion (made livelier by the red, of course), and from memory it was about asylum seekers, the sorry state of politics in Australia and the fact that Tony Abbott is a cretin. Now, for those who know my dad, I’m sure you can attest that while he can be quite long-winded and on occasion might be guilty of talking at you rather than with you, most of the time you are happy to listen anyway because he is basically a genius.

On this particular occasion, he had posed a completely reasonable, rational – and most importantly humane – solution to the immigration debate in Australia. It seemed to come to him ‘just like that’ and was so easy and logical I was pissed off I hadn’t thought of it (though I can’t for the life of me remember what it is now – I’m not going to lie, the red probably had something to do with this…)

After my attempts to convince him to run for Parliament were thwarted with a lame “I’m-too-old-and-cynical”, I had a brainwave: “Dad! Hey, Dad! You should start a blog! You have really good ideas and I think people would be really interested to hear what you have to say! And, besides, you actually know everything?! Do you know that?! You actually know everything!” He replied with “Do you know where the word ‘blog’ comes from?” which pretty much proved my point.*

But I digress.

My boyfriend, who has, to put it euphemistically, had a less than inspiring upbringing, often points out to me (unsurprisingly) the importance of good parenting and that I have been extremely lucky to have grown up around stimulating conversation and debate. It’s very true. I’ve been blessed to have parents who have a strong sense of social justice, are extremely well-informed and critical thinkers, and who never let us eat dinner in front of the TV. For my sister and me growing up (and even now when we’re at home), family meal time was always an integral part of the day, and it was sitting around at the dinner table, engaged in conversation with my parents, that I first developed my critical awareness, my thirst for information and the concept of endless possibility. To mum and dad, I really have to thank you for that.

Thinking about this in the context of where I am currently working – Taroudannt, Morocco – led me to ponder what kinds of conversations the kids here, who come to our centre, have had with their parents, relatives and peers growing up. Most of them have illiterate parents, many have illiterate single mothers, and many of them were excluded from attending school until our organisation organised their necessary birth papers. Notwithstanding parental love, it’s an upbringing so far removed from my own experiences, and one which has really forced me to think about what kind of person I would be if I hadn’t had those dinner time conversations.

As you might have guessed, I give full credit to those parents who understand the role they can play in the provision of opportunity and communication of possibility for their kids. So not surprisingly, I’m on board with the majority when it comes to a broader understanding of the importance of education in lifting nations’ populations out of poverty, particularly in light of the inter-generational benefits. Education’s just pretty damn important. However, in the absence of nation-wide education programs by the world’s governments, and in light of the 793 million illiterate adults in the world (two thirds of whom are women who are responsible for their children’s upbringing), how do we achieve the goal of ‘education for all?’[1]

Having not yet asked my father, who should very well be Ban-Ki Moon’s successor, I would propose that an ability to do so depends on your definition of education. I’m not saying it isn’t a massive and complicated task, but I reckon we might get closer to achieving it if we start thinking outside the box.

For me, this involves pulling apart the concept of education…just a little bit.

Firstly, it means moving away from a traditional understanding of education as consigned to the classroom. Granted, for those who like counting things, the number of kids attending school is a pretty easy way to track progress on world education. However, it’s certainly not an indicator of quality of education, and it certainly doesn’t account for the education that exists outside the classroom. Secondly, it means moving away from the traditional teaching paradigm in which students learn by rote, and there is a one-way flow of information and opinion from top to bottom (this paradigm shift has gained momentum in the developed world, though I would suggest not so much in the developing one).

Instead, if we understand that the role/s of education is/are to foster critical awareness, convey possibility, and develop a thirst for new knowledge, and if we understand that every person has the ability to be critically aware and thus to create their own knowledge, then education need not just take place in schools. It becomes the realm of every day conversation; the realm of the community group meeting, internet forums, social media platforms, the bus, the dinner table. Education becomes any question or conversation designed to stimulate debate or foster in somebody a critical awareness.

Take the quest to combat female genital excision or mutilation (commonly called FGM), a practice that involves the ritualistic cutting and sewing up of young girls’ genitals, usually by women members of a community, without anaesthetic or sterile equipment. The health complications of FGM can be horrendous, and it is a practice so widespread in Africa that an estimated 92 million girls over 10 today are currently living with the consequences.[2] It is a practice that over time has truly built itself into the cultural fabric of countless communities.

As a Westerner, or any outsider for that matter, I can’t imagine one would have much luck going into an FGM-practising community in order to ‘educate’ community members on the health risks by saying “You shouldn’t be doing that! Look what you’re doing!”, though I’m sure it’s an approach tried and tested (and failed) many a time. This kind of approach is likely to be resented, is unlikely to change attitudes, not to mention it is no-one’s place to enter a community that isn’t theirs, and tell that community that a long-standing cultural practice, no matter now barbaric one thinks it is, is wrong.

What has a far greater potential for success, not to mention is far more ethical, is to ask strategic questions; to attempt to educate through the development of critical awareness. For me, it’s all about finding a way to ask: “Why is it that you do this? Why do you practice this? Why do you believe this? Is there an alternative, or a better way of doing this?” Being able to start such a conversation, and to offer alternatives, can foster a real understanding of why it is that certain things are practised, both for the person asking the questions, and the ‘questionee’. This is indeed a form of education; and one which importantly places the generation of knowledge in the hands of the ‘student’. Because the ‘student’ or community member controls the generation of knowledge, this type of education by conversation has the potential to achieve development goals from the grassroots, as well as to empower people to make their own decisions, rather than have them made for them.

The director of our organisation here in Morocco, talks often about the importance of “having conversations” with the kids at the centre outside the prearranged classes, saying “we’re not just here to teach the kids, we’re here to increase their personalities”. Though the expression is rather amusing, what he means is endeavouring to stimulate those conversations that I had with my parents around the dinner table: to invite the kids to ponder, reflect and develop their critical awareness and excitement for learning. Though their lives are tough in many ways, the enthusiasm these kids now have for learning is truly infectious. On top of their formal teaching roles, I really do believe that the friendly conversational roles played by the staff at the centre contribute in a meaningful way to these kids’ desire and thirst for new ideas and knowledge.

And for me personally, even though it’s sometimes demoralising when I realise it’s impossible to know everything, it is my desire to be informed that is truly the driver for my mental well-being. It’s my critical awareness that allows me to be able to speak up for things I find unjust, or to make an informed vote, or to pursue a career in development. For me, as it is for many others, including the children who I work with at the centre, and the mothers with whom I am working to develop an income-generating enterprise, it is also the personal satisfaction that comes from the knowledge that you have knowledge, that you can create it yourself, and that with it you have the power to make changes, that is so important and empowering. It is the critical awareness, which comes through education, and more broadly conversation, that is the precursor for bigger change. Thanks, mum and dad for starting that conversation for me, and thanks to everyone else for continuing it and putting up with my opinions.

And lastly (and please, don’t judge me)…in an attempt to satisfy this thirst for new ideas, opinions, information and debate, and to keep abreast of what people are saying about the state of Australian politics while I’m over here in Morocco, I signed up to Twitter recently (become my disciple by clicking the Twitter link on the right sidebar, or find me at @briony_mack). After following #auspol for a few days, and coming to the conclusion that they call it Twitter because there are so many twits, I did receive a tweet today that said:

“If you want to build a ship, teach people to long for the endless immensity of the sea.”

Yep, it’s a good one!

*The word ‘blog’ comes from the word ‘web-log’. Pretty self-explanatory, really.


[1] 2012, CIA World Fact Book <www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/>

[2] 2012 World Health Organisation fact sheet no. 241 <http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs241/en/&gt;

Stories of Opportunity in International Development

International development is a tricky concept to navigate. What defines a developed country or community? Is it a thriving economy and lots of money?  Is it the level of industrialisation? Is it the health or happiness of a population? Is it good governance? Is it technological or scientific innovation? Is it environmental awareness?

More so, once we’ve decided on a definition (yeah, right!) how do we get there? How do we measure it? How do we theorise it? How do we practise it? How do we match up the theory with the practice? And, for those of us from the West coming into a developing world context, how do we truly extricate ourselves from the nuances (however slight) of a persistent and systemic colonial mentality, or the mentality of the ‘expert’?

I grapple with these questions on a daily basis, and if I’m to be honest, I seem to be quite fond of changing my opinions. Not that I think this is a bad thing. In this line of work – actually, you know what, I’m going to say in general – I think it’s important to be flexible, to be constantly reflecting, and readjusting your understandings and perceptions. Life is about learning, is it not?

Nevertheless I think I have settled on what development fundamentally means to me. I’ve settled for something philosophical enough to be considered a mindset and broad enough to allow within it great flexibility. It’s something that escapes the modern development jargon (participation! empowerment!) yet at the same time succeeds in encompassing it. It’s also something focussed enough to be applied as a working method or program objective, as well as something that has the potential to be measured (for those who like that sort of thing). It’s something that allows those of us who are development workers from the West, to move beyond the internal conflict of the ‘conscious expert’ towards a more equal and culturally transcendent method of communication. It’s something that escapes the shackles of a colonial mentality, because it fosters agency and autonomy. It’s something the benefits of I’d argue no one can argue with. It’s something that is beautiful in its simplicity, and abundant in its generosity. And importantly, it’s something that is not new, and is certainly not revolutionary.

All this is to say that, for me, development is summed up in opportunity. The more opportunities has a population, I’d venture to suggest, the more developed it is. And it really doesn’t matter if someone doesn’t take advantage of all the opportunities afforded them. To simply have the opportunity – and by this I mean a genuine opportunity, one which also seeks to address all the barriers to seizing it – is a most powerful thing. An opportunity allows for choice, fosters personal growth, increases motivation and improves well-being.

My experiences here in Morocco working with the wonderful local not-for-profit organisation, Groupe Maroc Horizons (in turn supported by the Moroccan Children’s Trust, a fantastic volunteer-based British NGO) are reaffirming this belief on a daily basis for me. The work is challenging and rewarding, and inspiring. The organisation in Taroudannt works out of a centre for children and their families in situations of difficulty, offering a place to drop in, a preschool, homework support classes, support classes and other recreational activities. In line with the holistic family approach taken by the organisation, I’m here working with the local staff on developing a project for the mothers of the children at the centre: an enterprise for income generation that has been the initiative of the women themselves.

It’s no secret that working in development is tough. It’s also no secret that working with children from disadvantaged backgrounds in a learning environment can be really hard. Despite the fact that, as I have remarked upon in previous posts, the children at the Centre AFAK are generally lovely, warm and friendly kids, they come with their fair share of baggage and challenges. Some of our kids sniff glue; there are kids who sometimes need to be dragged from their house to come to the homework sessions; and of course the fighting (especially during competitive sports sessions) is always an issue.

Nevertheless, the centre is always open to the kids, and the staff are always willing to work through the issues, skilfully managing the delicate balance between friendship, discipline, being a teacher, an ‘ear’, a peer, an authority, a life coach, a confidant, and a motivator (and more!). This cannot be easy, though on a daily basis, I see how positive this opportunity is for the kids. The proof is in the pudding, and the kids continue to return. I’m learning a lot about patience, amongst other things, and again I will reiterate that all anyone needs in order to thrive is opportunity, and the love and encouragement to seize it.

Providing opportunity is what we hope to achieve with the women’s project as well, and not simply opportunity to earn some income: it also includes the opportunity to play a significant role in the development of an enterprise that will be the source of that income, as well as the opportunity to gain some new skills during the process.

It has been an interesting professional challenge to communicate the benefits and methodology of a participatory approach (providing the women – or beneficiaries more generally – with the opportunity to engage with the development of a project, rather than having an ‘expert’ design the project for them) to those involved at an organisational level here. As with any new methodology or approach, it always takes a solid amount of dialogue to nut out all the benefits, obstacles and questions inherent, and to discuss the relevance of the approach to the context. Even though these discussions have been tests in communication for me (and in French, no less!) I really cannot give the staff here enough credit. Despite this approach being somewhat outside the mentality that exists in Morocco (or so I have been told) they are all very receptive, open, and willing to engage in a mutual learning process (I’m learning too, of course, having been given this wonderful opportunity to be here in Morocco).

The thing that has allowed me, in the end, to drive my point home during these discussions has been the concept of opportunity. It’s true, as has been suggested the women we’re working with may, in the end, decide they are tired and that they simply want someone to solve their problems for them. But what we are doing here with the women’s project is endeavouring to give the women a voice, as well as the opportunity for more control over the creation of their own existences. It could all go pear-shaped, but it will be the women’s choice to take up the opportunity, or not to.

Importantly though, this may very well prove to be a moot point, as the feedback we’ve had from the women during the participatory activities we’ve conducted thus far is already positive. Recognising the importance of communicating the methodology of ‘participation’ or more broadly ‘opportunity’ to the women themselves, and indeed having the women participate in the choice of the methodology itself, last week’s meeting commenced with an activity designed to explain to them the method of engagement we want to pursue with them, and to invite their feedback on it.

To do this, we circulated two images amongst them: the first depicted a traditional form of appraisal and project design, with men and their clipboards conducting ‘research’ in the foreground and women and children hanging out the washing on the line in the background; the second depicted a circle of men, women and children engaged in an animated discussion around an easel on which a casually dressed woman was talking to a flow chart, itself a visualisation of the group discussion.

After inviting the women to give us their initial responses on the two images, we proceeded to explain and discuss the difference between some expert ‘coming in’ and doing everything for them without consultation or inclusion, and us (the staff) simply acting as facilitators (or ‘animateurs’ in French), engaging them throughout the process of the planning and establishment of the project and endeavouring to give them every opportunity for direct input.

We were greeted with claps and smiles.

Music makes a glorious comeback

Welcome everyone to this week’s blog entry: as usual it’s a collection of musings on life, development work, music, art, and friends in wonderful Morocco. I’d hoped to have posted some snippets of poetry, photos and thoughts for you during the week, but as usual my busy schedule seems to have gotten in the way! Rest assured though that as long as you keep reading and commenting I will make every effort to share with you more regularly the wonderful goings on here…To this, I’m really enjoying your feedback (both on the blog and via email)! It’s always an encouragement for me to know I have your readership, so if you feel like making a comment or starting a conversation, please do!

Well this week you may be pleased to hear that I have finally taken my guitar out and introduced it to everyone at the centre. As I had mentioned briefly at the end of my last post, my unintentionally secret “other life” was let out of the bag by Iqbal, who had gathered a veritable crowd around her computer last week to cheer on a video of me performing at my CD launch in March. I walked in on the boisterous throng to screams of “Artiste! Artiste! Enchanté! Enchanté!” and many extended arms. I’m not really sure why it took this glorious affirmation to convince me that the poor old forgotten thing had been gathering dust for too long. Thankfully, it forgave me straight away, greeting everyone with its usual warmth and friendliness and making immediate friends. I’ve spent the last four working days giving impromptu performances all over the place: for the children, staff and of course our many visitors. I must say it really feels so good to be playing again, and even better that I have an attentive audience. I hadn’t realised that it’s actually been over two months since I’ve played properly…I’ve really been missing it!

Hilariously, as seems often to be the case here, it has been arranged, and I have been told, that this week I will be giving a ‘very, very exciting’ concert with a Moroccan Oud player (who incidentally is also a teacher at the school where we painted the mural), Abdellah Lamine. This concert will be a celebration of both traditional and modern music, and, if other musical events I have happened upon here are anything to go by, it promises to be a lot of fun. I’m envisaging we’ll be helped along by some of the kids from the centre who are talented djembe players, and by the remaining kids and adults who will make for a more-than-adequate back up dance troupe! I’m very excited, and even more so as I plan to use my powers of persuasion to convince Abdellah to teach me the Oud!

As I write this, I have just come back from the hammam (see last week’s entry) and once again am feeling considerably relaxed. Unfortunately, over the last week I was also bitten by a small army of mosquitoes and fleas (I will not be patting dogs in the street anymore). Actually, I probably enjoyed the fierce scrubbing at hammam more than usual today for this very reason. Despite the annoyance, I do enjoy the fact that the vectors are not infectors and I can thus get bitten all I like without contracting malaria, dengue fever, or any other form of horrible life threatening disease. Bonus!

It’s just a short entry tonight, as it’s dinner time now, and I plan to write a separate update on work tomorrow. Lots has been going on, with some really positive progress – though of course not without challenges!

But for now…a delicious Moroccan lentil soup which I must get the recipe for, and lots of delicious Middle Eastern yoghurt which is impossibly cheap. I have genuinely cleaned out the fridge of my man who owns the shop next door. Needless to say he finds it quite amusing!

Bisous,

Briony

A thought on acquiring a new language…

A glottal stop
Releases your phrase
A syntactical undulation
Of staggered consonants
Cylindrical vowels and
Praline clicks of the throat

(When you talk
I pay a lot of attention to
The way you sound)

Even though
For the most part
I am ostensibly silent
Behind that half-smile
And occasional giggle
Are crackling synapses that
Converse and collide

To forge me
As if by magic
A fancy new pathway