Then the Blessed One, having understood Brahma's invitation, out of compassion for beings, surveyed the world with the eye of an Awakened One. As he did so, he saw beings with little dust in their eyes and those with much, those with keen faculties and those with dull, those with good attributes and those with bad, those easy to teach and those hard, some of them seeing disgrace and danger in the other world. Just as in a pond of blue or red or white lotuses, some lotuses — born and growing in the water — might flourish while immersed in the water, without rising up from the water; some might stand at an even level with the water; while some might rise up from the water and stand without being smeared by the water — so too, surveying the world with the eye of an Awakened One, the Blessed One saw beings with little dust in their eyes and those with much, those with keen faculties and those with dull, those with good attributes and those with bad, those easy to teach and those hard, some of them seeing disgrace and danger in the other world.~Ayacana Sutta
My abilities to speak Tamazight, the local dialect, are still at intermediate level. The men in my site travel a lot for work, and because of this, the site is considered one of migrant workers. I talk to the women sometimes, but, as I have described before, talking with them about maternal health issues haven't been very successful. This inability of mine to teach this issue is due to my inadequacies, not theirs. Nevertheless, it makes working in my site more difficult. I am able to impart some cultural exchange, notably, issues regarding religion. Obviously, I cannot speak of all of my personal experiences there, so even that is somewhat limited. This leads to the question, "What have I been doing in Morocco this past year?"
I have been working a lot, actually, but it has been in the big city, Errachidia, where I teach SIDA and general health issues at a Dar Chebab to local teenagers. This is what I feel competent teaching. Because they speak English, I feel more comfortable teaching these topics, as well. This is where I am. I had requested a site change, but was denied, due to the paperwork involved and the need for a cultural exchange at my own site. I am happy with this, and have, in fact, turned my home into a makeshift "Buddhist retreat center" for travel-weary volunteers.
The story of the Ayacana Sutta, or, The Sutta of the Request, speaks of Buddha not wanting to teach due to the difficulty of the teachings. It is Brahma who requests that he teach the dharma to the world - without Brahma, we would have no dharma. The analogy of the lotus is used in regards to his ability to teach. There are some lotuses whose petals are still submerged, and some whose petals are still within the mud. But there are some lotuses whose petals have just broken the surface and are able to understand the dharma. It is these beings who the Buddha must reach out to and teach.
Likewise, the circumstances in which I have found myself compel me to continue to work in Errachidia, because of my students ability to understand me, and my understanding of the topics that I teach. I did not receive training in America to teach maternal health. What I do know is HIV/AIDS awareness, STI awareness, and stress relief techniques through meditation and basic yoga. To act as though I am an expert in any other topic would be both unwise and immoral on my part.
The question remains, however, whether or not my continuing to travel to Errachidia will continue to benefit my students, and whether or not I will be able to expand my language abilities to feel better trained speaking about this topic in my own site. After all, the words "meditation", "karma", and "chakra", don't exactly translate easily into Tamazight, as I have also noted in prior blogs. The attempt I made before didn't turn out very well, but I must continue to work on it. As long as I feel that I can contribute something new to the community of Morocco, I will stay here.
Soemtimes, I like to think of the story of Brahma and Buddha from a different point-of-view; that of the lotus flower. I am not the Buddha, but a lotus. Because of what I have learned and trained for, the pollen inside of me is unique. The environment in which I find myself, however, contributes greatly to whether or not I can open the petals and reveal the pollen inside. It is here, in Errachidia, that I truly feel that I can open and spread my knowledge. Maybe, one day, I will rise up in my own site and feel comfortable opening up to the villagers there. But for now, I hope that teaching the English class here is enough.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The House, a Sestina
Near the bottom of the Du Ziz valley,
among the pink oleander, the palms, and the sand,
an abandoned house stands in nearly constant shadow.
The thatched roof of shattered bamboo lets rain
stream down crumbling mud walls, staining windows,
and finally pooling onto the floor,
seeping into cracks in the cement floor.
Once, I stood in front of this house in the valley,
and peered through the holes in the windows.
Wind whispered around the house and loosened sand
from the ceiling, creating the illusion of golden rain.
Everywhere, there were shadows
of many shapes due to the collection of debris. Twisted shadows,
some lying prostrate on the floor,
others reaching the roof, as if to climb out to touch the rain,
or to simply escape this dark part of the valley.
The sounds of the wind combined with the sounds of the sand,
calling out to me through the window.
You, they rasped, come away from that window.
Come in, have tea. I took my place among the shadows,
the ghosts of men in black djellabas. The wind and sand
continued to sigh at me as I settled onto the floor.
I was the first house in this valley.
I was here before the palms, before the rain,
before the river that was birthed by the rain,
that same river just outside my window.
I was filled with life. I brought life to this valley,
but now, inside of me there are only shadows
that spend endless hours on the floor.
Everything that was mine has been emptied. More sand
fell from the roof and onto the sand
that lined the floor. Soon, there would be more rain.
This debris is not mine, but it is inside of me now, covering the floor.
People pass this house, children throw rocks at the windows
that hit the shadows. The shadows
don’t notice it anymore. I cannot leave this valley.
The rain had now reached the valley.
As I left, I looked back in through the window
at the shadows, still prostrate on the floor, among the debris.
among the pink oleander, the palms, and the sand,
an abandoned house stands in nearly constant shadow.
The thatched roof of shattered bamboo lets rain
stream down crumbling mud walls, staining windows,
and finally pooling onto the floor,
seeping into cracks in the cement floor.
Once, I stood in front of this house in the valley,
and peered through the holes in the windows.
Wind whispered around the house and loosened sand
from the ceiling, creating the illusion of golden rain.
Everywhere, there were shadows
of many shapes due to the collection of debris. Twisted shadows,
some lying prostrate on the floor,
others reaching the roof, as if to climb out to touch the rain,
or to simply escape this dark part of the valley.
The sounds of the wind combined with the sounds of the sand,
calling out to me through the window.
You, they rasped, come away from that window.
Come in, have tea. I took my place among the shadows,
the ghosts of men in black djellabas. The wind and sand
continued to sigh at me as I settled onto the floor.
I was the first house in this valley.
I was here before the palms, before the rain,
before the river that was birthed by the rain,
that same river just outside my window.
I was filled with life. I brought life to this valley,
but now, inside of me there are only shadows
that spend endless hours on the floor.
Everything that was mine has been emptied. More sand
fell from the roof and onto the sand
that lined the floor. Soon, there would be more rain.
This debris is not mine, but it is inside of me now, covering the floor.
People pass this house, children throw rocks at the windows
that hit the shadows. The shadows
don’t notice it anymore. I cannot leave this valley.
The rain had now reached the valley.
As I left, I looked back in through the window
at the shadows, still prostrate on the floor, among the debris.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Girlfriend
I am teaching an English Spring Camp. There is me and then there are four other volunteers. We have thirty students, and I am responsible for teaching the intermediate students. So far, the lessons have gone well. Teaching lessons is the easy part for me. It is during free time that difficulties arise. The students want to know so much about us and our country. One day, after lunch, I sat down by myself, and three young boys came up to me.
"Teacher, are you married?"
Can't tell them I'm engaged, I thought, Mustn't tell them.
"No, I'm not married."
"But do you have a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"No," I said.
"Why?" The boys get quiet and lean forward.
In Morocco, it is difficult for young boys to understand how an older man cannot have a girlfriend. Quite frankly, before this relationship, I had resigned myself to live by myself for the rest of my life. Now, I am in one, and that thought brings me more happiness in my life than I have ever had before. I hate not being able to talk about my relationship, but that's how things are.
"Sometimes," I began, "There are people who feel called to go into the world and help others. I am busy spending time with all of you. I have no need for a girlfriend right now."
The boys look to each other.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"One, a long time ago."
I stood up, said goodbye, and left. I walked across the courtyard while the wind blew at my face. Did you really have to make up a part about a girlfriend? You could have talked to them about not needing anyone in your life. Then I thought about my relationship. What would I really be doing had I not entered this relationship?
I used to imagine serving in the Peace Corps and then moving East, to an Asian country, to spend my days in a monastery. I like how Buddhist monasteries are able to make their monks and nuns look similar just by shaving their heads. It is as though they are able to almost eliminate their gender altogether. The thought of not having to worry about gender roles or people thinking of me as a 'man' or a 'woman' is refreshing to me. Now, I thought of my relationship and realize exactly what I would have had to give up to do that. As each day goes by, the thought is only reinforced that I want only this life.
"Teacher, are you married?"
Can't tell them I'm engaged, I thought, Mustn't tell them.
"No, I'm not married."
"But do you have a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"No," I said.
"Why?" The boys get quiet and lean forward.
In Morocco, it is difficult for young boys to understand how an older man cannot have a girlfriend. Quite frankly, before this relationship, I had resigned myself to live by myself for the rest of my life. Now, I am in one, and that thought brings me more happiness in my life than I have ever had before. I hate not being able to talk about my relationship, but that's how things are.
"Sometimes," I began, "There are people who feel called to go into the world and help others. I am busy spending time with all of you. I have no need for a girlfriend right now."
The boys look to each other.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"One, a long time ago."
I stood up, said goodbye, and left. I walked across the courtyard while the wind blew at my face. Did you really have to make up a part about a girlfriend? You could have talked to them about not needing anyone in your life. Then I thought about my relationship. What would I really be doing had I not entered this relationship?
I used to imagine serving in the Peace Corps and then moving East, to an Asian country, to spend my days in a monastery. I like how Buddhist monasteries are able to make their monks and nuns look similar just by shaving their heads. It is as though they are able to almost eliminate their gender altogether. The thought of not having to worry about gender roles or people thinking of me as a 'man' or a 'woman' is refreshing to me. Now, I thought of my relationship and realize exactly what I would have had to give up to do that. As each day goes by, the thought is only reinforced that I want only this life.
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