Excavation site of an ancient reservoir in the Arava Valley

The paradigm for the first few days of the program last week comprised of: checking out a sustainability issue up close and personal in the morning, lecture with the professor at the Arava Institute of that field in the afternoon, followed by a variety of eating, napping, hanging at the pool, and reading. The issue lineup was archaeology, sustainable agriculture, and renewable energy.

Accordingly, Sunday began with an early morning field trip to an ancient farming archaeological site. My dreams of becoming the next Indiana Jones and tearing it up in the field of archaeology were pretty short-lived in my adult life, lasting only for a few months during freshmen year. I got to revisit the field of archaeology and my old dream a little on this trip and full disclosure: the climbing down a tunnel into a system of underground water tunnels was intriguing and it was a great opportunity to marvel at ancient technologies and water management methods. What I was less intrigued by, however, was a three-hour lecture with a number of slides of local ancient art that contained phallic or vulva depictions. How much have people really changed from then to now?

For sustainable agriculture we got to check out Ketura’s experimental orchards.  The key question/objective of the kibbutz’s efforts out in the orchards: can we find a sustainable way of doing permaculture here? Any answer to this question needs to address the Negev’s biggest constraint—water.

Our orchards tour started with one of the kibbutz’s oldest and biggest industries: date palms. Other highlights included seeing the revival of biblical plants like frankincense and myrrh (sorry no gold plant!) and argan trees. This tree is worth mentioning because first it’s in my shampoo, and second, it grows naturally only in Morocco and is they type of tree that the goats are famous for climbing and hanging out in. Argan trees can survive with very small amounts of water, has delicious oil, and can be used for a variety of purposes including medicinal and cosmetics. Morocco seems to follow me everywhere.

Argan tree in Ifrane, Morocco with goats

kibbutz greenhouse containing a variety of desert agriculture

enticing pomegranate

Our renewable energy-dedicated day included a tour of the Arava Institute’s renewable energy experiments—a tour we had previously received the week before but this time with much more in depth and interesting information. The theme of the day was Carbon-Free Energy Future. One of the projects going on here is developing a way to tap in to hydrogen power through oxidation.

Overall, last week was a blend of hands-on learning and lectures. You can’t beat learning outside and using your hands, but the value of the lectures lied in giving a more academic presentation and putting things into perspective.  The two teaching methods together proved a very interesting learning experience and was a refreshing way to shake things up. After all, that was a large part of the draw in coming here.

double-sided solar panel experiment

Our campsite: just a few mats to sleep on and a fire

The agenda: hiking, setting up camp, making pita bread and then s’mores over the campfire, then chilling, talking about constellations under the desert sky, chatting into the night with group members, enjoying a surround-sound symphony of snoring, sleeping under the naked sky, and waking up at the crack of dawn for coffee and a desert poetry discussion.

Got to participate in everything except the hike and the work of setting up the camp. I guess you win some, you lose some. While I had a mild case of missing out syndrome while the group was off hitting the mountain and I was back at ‘base camp’ I realized sometimes it’s okay to take it easy to prevent further injury. Besides, I needed the ankle to be fresh for two days of walking around Jerusalem and any future hikes and outdoor activity. And once in awhile it’s cool to let everyone else do all the work…

I was pretty jealous about not being able to run down the giant sand slope

Talking poetry during the trip was a surprising highlight for me. I must have short-term memory or something, because I did forget how much I used to enjoy English classes in high school and taking a work, reading it, analyzing it, and discussing it in a group. For this girl, poetry, along with literature is among the finer things in life.

I’m taking this camping trip as a reminder to slow down when I need to, enjoy my surroundings, and keep my mind fresh and happy with poetry and literature. Plus I learned how to make pita bread, which was delicious with homemade tahini sauce.

Watching the hike from down below

Upon arriving back on the ranch (or the kibbutz) from the camping trip, I got to experience my first Shabbat in Israel. Coming from a pretty secular yet Christian-dominated society and then spending a year in an Islamic one, I was curious to see how this would compare.

The program arranged for us to meet with a member of the kibbutz to discuss Shabbat traditions and practices on the kibbutz. This was followed by a visit to a kibbutz member’s house to have tea and shoot the breeze/ask about Ketura life, then Shabbat services at the synagogue, and finally Shabbat dinner. Shabbat dinner was probably the best meal I’ve had on the kibbutz and there was wine and really delicious challah bread.

Other than a multi-cultural Passover Seder at Dickinson a couple of years back and a friend’s family’s Hanukah party, my contact with Jewish tradition has been pretty minimal. I never went to a bar or bah mitzvah, though I did have morning bagels at Dickinson’s Hillel house a couple of times. Frankly speaking, there weren’t very many Jews in my life until Dickinson. Yes, I had some contact with the American Jewish community through entertainment; I watched the Cohen family in The O.C. and read Chaim Potok’s The Chosen and others like The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay and Everything is Illuminated.
But, predictably, it’s something else to experience a religion and a culture rather than just reading or watching a program.

How did I feel during Shabbat services in Ketura’s synagogue, as one of the only gentiles? A bit weird and out of place. Everyone seemed to have seen non-Jews in services before, so there was no discomfort from other people and I didn’t get any weird looks when I just couldn’t seem to keep up with the songs and prayers in the all-Hebrew prayer book in front of me.

However, internally, I felt really out of place. For the most part (or all parts), I had no idea what was going down during the service and I don’t speak a drop of Hebrew so the fact that the whole thing was in Hebrew also made it a bit confusing. Like a kid in a rehearsal who hasn’t learned the dance routine, I just watched what others were doing and imitated. When everyone stood up, I got up from my chair. When everyone started to sit down, I sat. And repeated.

Something I did appreciate was watching how in sync and into the service everyone in the synagogue was. Observing spirituality like that was something special and worthwhile for me, and I think it was felt most during the songs.

Got to get around somehow and keep that ankle elevated.

Really, I’ve got a sprained ankle to back up that argument. After playing junior league basketball the length of my time at Shaffer Elementary (Go Pioneers!), I was maybe a little taken back how by much I couldn’t play, but then I remembered the sport wasn’t exactly my strong suit at the time. I was all about the speed and assists but that was pretty much the extent of my skills at the time.

I sampled so many sports in my childhood other than basketball: skiing, gymnastics, dance (tap and ballet), soccer, volleyball, swimming, tennis, cheerleading, and track & field. This impressive list makes me sound super athletic but I think I kept bouncing around since I never really found the right sport. Years later the only ones I stuck with are tennis and skiing (if you count playing tennis once in awhile).

That’s not to say I didn’t have a super fun time playing b-ball the other day. People in my program played with 16 year-old Israelis who are staying at the kibbutz for basketball camp. Yeah, they were pretty good and the guys in my program had the game down too.

It was great to reconnect with something that was such a large part of my childhood that I had let go such a long time ago—until I came down really hard on my ankle and had to stop playing due to a sharp, shooting pain. Whether to blame the hot desert heat, the skill of the other plays, my out-of-shapeness, or my hiking boots, I’m not sure. The pain subsided for a while after all of ten minutes so I thought was in the clear… until later that evening when I couldn’t put weight on it and the same thing the next morning.

Thank God for health insurance and our res life director who took me to the local clinic. My cure: a supporting bandage, painkillers, rest/keeping weight off the ankle, and a scooter chair that is probably best known as a way for making old people mobile.

Though the scooter is a bit excessive and little embarrassing to drive around on, maybe it’s a little more fun than crutches.

Will this little incident keep me off the basketball court? Probably not since I signed up for the sport as my physical education credit next fall and it was pretty fun the last time around. Got to live it up while in Israel, but the next court I’m planning on hitting is the tennis court.

It’s funny learning these lessons from abroad. They seem so simple and like they could easily be figured out in the U.S., but sometimes it takes changing up the lifestyle to see things.

Algae farm on Kibbutz Ketura, one of the major industries for the kibbutz.

Though I’m just living here for a month, and not as a member, our group has been discussing with members what living on a kibbutz, particularly Kibbutz Ketura, is like.

Kibbutzim are set up in a number of ways, but the basic principle is pretty simple: collective community living, where each member finds his niche, works as much as he can, and gets back what he needs like food and shelter. Kibbutzim can be religious, secular, or of varying degrees of the two. Factors to keep in mind when thinking about what a kibbutz is: income, education, healthcare, food, industry, size of the community, religion, sustainability, etc.

At Kibbutz Ketura, members have residences, work in their jobs (some in the Kibbutz & some outside), and pool their salaries to provide for the community. Members don’t individually pay for meals (all eaten in the mess hall), they don’t have to do laundry, healthcare is 100% covered, education covered up to a bachelor’s degree (students can use the money for university outside of Israel, but the amount is determined by the cost of higher education in Israel), there’s a salon and chiropractor on site, they are allotted an allowance of disposable funds, and they don’t individually pay for electric and water bills. In a community of about 150 members, there are eight cars which are shared and belong to the kibbutz.

Now this is all how Ketura operates, not all kibbutzim handle finances in the same way; in fact, some are even privatized where members keep their own salaries. On the flip side, one of my professors yesterday was telling our group about his kibbutz which is near anarchic. The safe is open and each member is expected to work and contribute what he can and take literally only what he needs. In a community of approximately 100 people, this kibbutz has been successful since 1976. Maybe I’m a cynic, but this was shocking to my American ears that a community set up in this way could sustain for so long. It almost sounds utopian.

Today our group met with one of the Kibbutz’s founders. She gave us the run down of how Ketura was founded in 1973 of a group of young Americans (around age 22 at the time). She sidestepped a lot of the political issues such as what it meant to settle in a country that was previously Palestine and the relation of Zionism to the kibbutz and its founding. What’s the rest of the story?

From this experience, I’ve had to ask myself (and have been asked by others), “Could or would I ever live on a kibbutz?” Almost everyone on the kibbutz who has talked to our group has emphasized the necessity of trust for this lifestyle. To be honest, I’m not sure that I’m at a point in my life where I would be willing to trust a group of people with things like how to handle my finances from my work. The benefits of the society like healthcare and education are to be frank, awesome, but for me, would the costs be worth it? After talking to another girl in my program the answer for now is, “No, not at the moment, but maybe when raising a family or settling down.”

Maybe this is over generalizing and creating too false a dichotomy (still not going to stop me from going for it), but the question has forced me to own up and identify my economic and social values. What’s more enticing, collective community living, which I’m going to categorize (along with many others) as socialism, or free market America?

Throughout my life and in my classes, I’ve been hearing about Soviet Russia, Chairman Mao’s China, and other socialist or communist societies that collapse deep into the pits of corruption, but here are these kibbutzim throughout Israel that somehow work with the same concepts. From where I’m standing it looks like, yes, trust is an essential variable in the collective community living, and there needs to be a common or at least unifying culture with a small population. I think many of us can agree, that the Ketura way would never succeed in America.

An update on the ‘bug’ situation from yesterday for the traps that my class laid in the dunes near our kibbutz: my partner and I caught a ton of ants, two beetles, and a baby scorpion. Not bad since we weren’t expecting to catch much, but we were a little envious of the group that managed to rake in a gecko and giant scorpion along with many other beetles.

Wouldn't want to find this in my room. The biggest scorpion of the group.

Skink trail. The critter alternates between crawling and slithering in the sand.

Man it's hot out here. Jordan's Edom mountains in the back.

My second full day in Israel and already it feels like a week has passed. We’ve done so much in our short time here and the seven other strangers in the program are becoming more and more familiar.

Today didn’t begin with an intense hike (the sand dune climbing came later), but instead with a tour of Arava’s Renewable Energy Park in the Kibbutz. The Institute had some impressive and interesting projects including three different research projects for solar panels that Arava is acting as the field site, biogas digestors, cultivating a seed dating back to biblical times and finally the solar panel field.

My background’s not exactly in renewable energy but I found the projects to be very interesting. This was true especially the work with the biogas digestor, since the project has the power to impact small developing communities in a positive way by making energy possible for unnamed places off the grid (for example, there’s a project running in a village in Palestine), helping these places tap into their own resources, and working with willing communities towards a sustainable method. I love interdisciplinary environmental studies can be and how knowledge of the environment and being resourceful is literally translated into power.

Kibbutz Ketura's solar field

Biogas digestors, a project at Arava Institute

This afternoon I had flashbacks of my time in AP Biology class in high school. We had an introductory lecture on ecology, desert ecology, and biodiversity in the Negev. It’s funny how you can remember learning everything after the professor says it, but when he asks a question, you can’t really find the best answer—at least this was my situation in ecology and desert ecology. I can’t believe I’ve been out of high school for three years now, not only does that make me feel old and like time is whizzing by me, but also more understanding of the whole “use it or lose it” thought. I found myself surprised at how interested and engaged I was during the lengthy lecture but then remembered, “Oh I did enter Dickinson with the intention of being a sci (neuroscience) major for a reason.” The field still does hold a fascination for me, just not in the ways I expected back in the high school years.

In the afternoon in the scorching sun, our Ecology professor took us to sand dunes that were even closer to the Jordanian border today. And I need to add a sidenote/correction to yesterday’s post: there was a fence, but it was really small and not very intimidating looking. With partners we set 20 traps in the dunes with the hopes of catching some nocturnal wildlife (mainly beetles), and will return tomorrow morning at 5 am (gah!) to check if we caught anything. I enjoyed being outside doing hands-on work. Really a preferable way of learning and in my opinion a necessary way to stay connected with what you’re studying. Guess I just need to be able to find a career with this same style.

Traps that we dug to id critters in the region. Looks like a game of dune mini golf.

I also tried Israeli beer this evening. Tasty.

A group of white oryx at Israel's Yotvata Hai-Bar Nature Reserve with Jordan's red Edom mountains in the back.

Just when I thought I was home for the summer in colorful Colorado, an opportunity came up to do a month-long course in Israel. The focus of the program is the environment and development challenges that face the local Southern Arava region, Israel, and the larger region. Basically, we’ll be looking at natural history, sustainable development, and the environment in Southern Israel. The program is a partnership with my college and the Arava Institute, which is located on Kibbutz Ketura, literally on the Jordanian border. The Institute encourages a dialogue across borders on how to move forward sustainably and tries to have in house a third Israelis, a third from the Arab world (I think mainly Palestine and Jordan), and a third from English speaking countries the U.S., U.K., Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. After just arriving yesterday I can tell this will be an intense month with a lot of lessons (not just academic), adventure, surprises, and fun.

Here’s the deal with my first full day:

We kicked off our first day in Israel like champions by summiting a rocky cliff during a 6:30 am “backyard hike”. Talk about getting the day going. The hike was up what felt like an ever-sliding pile of rocks on top of a really large chain of rocks. It was a bit challenging at first, but the Colorado blood in me kicked in and I enjoyed the exercise and not to mention beautiful view. Directly across from our hike and from the kibbutz lies the Jordanian border and some of the reddest mountains I’ve ever seen. As the Jordanian-Israeli frontier is a peaceful border, there is no wall, fence, or intense security at all. Apparently there is border patrol, but that is reserved for the “less in shape” soldiers.

Definitely harder than it looks

View of Kibbutz Ketura from the top of the hike, Jordan in the background

I remain amazed at how close we are to Jordan. It wouldn’t be hard to accidentally wander over and cross the border unknowingly. I feel like there’s such an emphasis on borders and divisions but I guess when it comes to Israel and Jordan where I’m located, it’s just a line in the sand. I am curious, however, what Israel’s less peaceful borders look like and how they operate. From growing up in the States I’ve had this image of Israel in my head of checkpoints, guns, soldiers, guards, and fences that may not necessarily match the reality. As I learned this year in Morocco, reading an article or watching the news is one thing, experiencing a place firsthand is something else.

Today is the United States’ Independence Day. We did an exercise in my Peace-building and Environmental Leadership seminar with my group of eight students, Professor Key, and the program staff where we were faced with the questions, “Are you proud of where you’re from?” and “Are you worried about the direction of your country?” The answers were mixed, with most generally being middle of the road. Mine: supportive of the country but aware of its many imperfections and challenges and skeptical/unhappy of where the nation is headed. That pretty well sums up where I’m at. I do believe in the basic principles that this country was founded on: liberty, independence, equal rights and opportunity, and justice. Do I believe that these values are reflected everyday back home in the actions of American citizens, policies, and the government? Not always, but they’re there. My concerns for the country’s path, especially after working on a political campaign this summer are radicalism extending even further and reaching prominence, a major unwillingness to compromise, and even worse, a cynical attitude that I don’t believe is out to achieve the best for the U.S. and the global community we live in. I must add though, I am really proud to be from Colorado/do have a lot of state pride in where I grew up. For one, the natural environment is beautiful, but also people are laidback, the skiing is great, and we are one of the healthiest states in the Union.

Ostriches are really aggressive animals. I learned this fact this evening when my group headed out to Yotvata Hai-Bar Nature Reserve for a twilight safari and a viewing of the keeper feeding the predators. The reserve was established to form breeding groups of animals mentioned in the Bible and to protect other threatened species. Among a string of animals we saw in the “Safari” (drive through the nature reserve with an informative CD detailing each species) the ostrich was the only familiar animal. The other biblical creatures included: the Somali wild ass, white oryx, addix, and onager (looks much like the Somali wild ass). There were several incidents where our vehicle and the other vehicles in the caravan were approached by ostriches that aggressively pecked at our windows, so hard that they left marks on the glass. I felt like I was in Jurassic Park when they’re in the car being attacked but instead of dinosaurs, it was ostriches. Lesson learned: you may think you know an animal or are familiar with one, but seeing it in its habitat is a different story and I learned from the educational CD that it’s a common misconception that ostriches hide their heads in the sand when they feel threatened.  There’s a lot of misinformation out in the world, even related to ostriches, but how would we know otherwise without seeing for ourselves?

Face to face with our aggressor, separated by the car window

This morning I woke up in my room at my homestay in Rabat with the realization that I have now hit the single digit amount of days left in the country. It’s amazing how fast time can whiz by, even just at age 21. Back in August, an academic year felt like an eternity. 

I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt so ambivalent in my life about something. While I have one foot out the door, ready to go back to the U.S. and there are so many things I’m looking forward to, I still seem to have this other foot planted so firmly in Morocco and am not ready to give it all up. 

To most clearly demonstrate this I made a list of things I’m craving in the States and on the flip-side a list of things I don’t want to leave behind. Interestingly, the lists are paradoxical, which I guess explains the tugging and pulling of wanting to leave and stay at the same time. 

Some things I am so excited for: daily showers, the Rocky Mountains in lovely Colorado, non-overly-milky and diarrhetic coffee and Starbucks, cold coffee drinks, my car, tank tops, shorts (basically any somewhat revealing clothing or should I say weather-appropriate clothing?), drive-thrus, 24-hour diners, late-night strolls, clean animals, diverse and ethnic food/control of what I’m eating, cheese (I guess I shouldn’t list all foods, that could be a whole post in itself), 24-hour Fitness, customer service, free re-fills, movie theaters, the public library, being able to flawlessly communicate in a language a.k.a. speaking my native tongue, air conditioning & central heating, NBA and MLB, coupons and not stressing over having to negotiate everything down to a good price, bike rides, and probably many more things, oh and of course and foremost, my wonderful family and friends–love and miss you all so much!

Things I am sad to leave behind (notice many parallels): Maxi Form and fitness classes (my awesome gym with special thanks to instructors Hicham and Hassan), couscous Fridays (a tradition I’ll bring back home), the call to prayer, Islamic architecture, spontaneous weekend trips, never knowing what each day will hold, the hammam, my ladies at Salon Zohra and affordable A-lister treatment, Moroccan mint tea, banana juice (also bringing back to the States), cheap DVDs, walking in the medina and then getting lost and then finding my way again or going back the next time knowing how to navigate the maze, bargaining and getting that amazing deal, being able to afford taking taxis all the time, cafe culture (just ordering one coffee and staying at a table just chilling for hours), learning and advancing and communicating in a language other than my own, cute old Arab men, adorable Moroccan children, football-centric sports culture, love, watching Turkish soap dramas with my host mom, and each member of my host family

In my final abroad column in the graduation issue of The Dickinsonian I further get in to lessons learned and my feelings on leaving Morocco–in perhaps a more sophisticated way. Boom, here it is:

Me and my bird-watching guide Hassan in Moulay Bousselhem, Morocco. This was easily one of the happiest times of my year abroad. Some friends and i hired Hassan and took a boat out in this beautiful lagoon filled with birds with a wild flamingoes sighting!

I look back at myself when I first got to Morocco, arriving smack in the middle of Ramadan, and I cannot believe how quickly my study abroad experience flew by and how much has changed in just a year.

Last August I knew zero Arabic, knew no one in Morocco, knew almost nothing about the country and its people and knew as much about Islam as the average American—which, in all honesty, isn’t too much.

Today I cannot claim an expertise in Islam and Moroccan culture (there are still so many mysteries I have yet to crack) or fluency in Arabic, but I can say I have a pretty solid understanding of them and that I have since put roots down in Morocco. The time that I have spent here is a major part of my life—Morocco is no longer just another country that I’ve read about or seen in the movies.

Ever since my freshmen year at Dickinson I was certain I would go abroad to have some adventures and maybe learn a thing or two. I got that and more; I experienced my highest highs and lowest lows of my life over here and have learned an enormous amount about myself, Moroccans, the MENA region, people Americans, travel and life in general.

The changes manifesting in the Arab world invariably made this spring a very exciting time to study in the region. When I enrolled in my political science course that examines openings for democracy in Morocco, I did not realize that the course content would be the same stuff I’d be watching on Al Jazeera or Al Arabiya with my host family each night.

Even though Morocco is purportedly going through “quiet reform” and we’re not witnessing full-blown revolution, watching the protests from day to day has been interesting as well as watching the King, his government and the people themselves respond.

Dickinson is all about engaging the world, taking the knowledge learned in the classroom to the next level and then another step further. My year in Rabat was my first real chance to get out of the States and engage the world, but further, have another part of the world touch my life.

I saw though that this experience was more take than give, but I realized that’s okay. One of my classes recently had a discussion on the Greg Mortenson scandal, the story that the renowned “Three Cups of Tea” author had sensationalized his experiences in his book and that he was actually pretty selfish and a difficult character to work with. The scandal itself isn’t important but the discussion that it sparked in my class is.

All in all, we concluded that when studying and working abroad, you cannot necessarily set out to revolutionize or even change a place for the better. Sometimes the best thing you can do is observe, learn, participate and then exchange ideas from one culture to another. Things to the American eye may look inefficient, pointless, or crazy, but if you take a moment to get a closer look, everything’s as it should be and there is reason behind the madness.

In no way did I revolutionize Moroccan society, and maybe I didn’t even majorly alter someone’s life in the dramatic sense, but I lived in Morocco as much as a Westerner with limited language skills could, I made connections with my host family and some Moroccan friends and I learned so much, and occasionally shared some American cultural insights. That was enough.

The big question that remains unanswered is what will happen when I return to the States next month and when I return to Dickinson for my senior year. Will everything be completely different and is reverse culture shock real? Or will things have stayed the same like I was never even here? I’ve heard from a number of friends who have studied abroad that going home is just like waking up from a dream. It won’t be too long before I find out, but I figure I’ll find one way or another to put all my lessons learned to use when I get back and keep my two worlds connected.

And I will certainly be seeking out all the Moroccans in town when I get back so I can practice my Moroccan Arabic, eat some good meals and, in some way hold on to the country and experience as much as I can.

However, let me insert some of my most recent thoughts in the bold before the column:

Today when I was Skyping with a friend, she asked me how Morocco took the death of bin Laden. I almost didn’t know how to answer that because things were so calm here when it happened and I almost had forgotten what it was like. Yes, as I mention in my column it made the news and his face was plastered all over the newspapers but there wasn’t a visible, outright common sentiment among my Moroccan neighbors like the one I experienced when Marrakech got hit. Though, I did get some limited OBL death feedback: this one Moroccan girl my age laughed at the bin Laden topic and said she didn’t believe he was actually dead and other friends expressed concern bordering disgust on the U.S.’s choice to bury bin Laden at sea, arguing it wasn’t consistent with Islamic customs. 

When it’s all said and done, however, I felt so removed over here from the OBL death and “American victory.” I saw on Facebook and heard from friends on campus that Dickinson had erupted into “riots,” or more appropriately labeled, celebrations, of the death of Osama bin Laden. Interestingly, this was not a Dickinson specific thing and was happening on college campuses across the country. Dickinson even had a “scandal” where someone made an anonymous video that was essentially anti-ROTC and calling out the celebrations of OBL’s death as disgusting, to which one of the ROTC cadets posted a response video criticizing the first video and justifying the popular response to OBL’s death on campus. Not to mention the whole Martin Luther King Jr. distorted quote that was circulating on Facebook–everything just felt so far away yet reachable on my computer, not in person, if that makes any sense. 

The other day I listened to an interview on This American Life with the editor-in-chief of the Penn State student newspaper on this very topic. The big question: Why did the death of Osama bin Laden mean so much to my generation? The Penn State student explained that 9/11 was just this mind-blowing, formative moment in her childhood when she realized how everything could just come out from under her. This lead to a major fear of flying for her, a fear of security and stability. But, she came to the conclusion that this fear was dormant, unconscious for years following 9/11 but was aroused again, and maybe this sort of fear led to the awakening of our generation which manifested in these “death celebrations.”

To be frank, I’m not quite sure if I’ve had this fear all along or how I would have reacted on campus at Dickinson if I had been in the States when OBL got taken out. I wonder if I would have celebrated, or been one of the bystanders on the sidelines watching, or if I would have been one of the critics questioning whether if there ever is an appropriate occasion to celebrate death. Regardless, it seems like by the time I get back to the States we’ll be past the celebrating phase and it’ll be time to really focus on the questions of where does this leave us in the “Long War” and how we can reexamine relations with Pakistan.

Let’s switch gears again, here’s the column. By the way, you may recognize some of the content from my previous blog post:

***CORRECTION: the bomb was remotely detonated and was not a suicide bombing

This news was extremely disturbing to me and it gave me one of those, fleeting anxiety waves. I’m not nervous to leave the house by any means, but this has given me an increased awareness of my setting/surroundings. I wouldn’t say that I’m never going to Marrakech again but I am wary of where I take my coffee and where I got out. Some Moroccan friends said to avoid a specific cafe that I myself and a lot of people love going to because it’s so touristy, serves alcohol, and is downtown–not that anything is going to happen in Rabat, but just in case.

King Mohammed VI visited Cafe Argana in Jamaa el-Fnaa square this weekend and I can tell that he is as mad as ever that this has happened during his reign. Justice and Charity, the banned Islamist party has condemned the act as well and says that we should not let the bombing kill the perpetual protests.

Well, about the protests: May 1 is the Moroccan version of Labor Day and one of the bigger protests was scheduled that day. Apparently the protest got pretty big in Rabat, but unfortunately I was traveling on Sunday and didn’t get to check it out.

However, this brings me to my latest column in The Dickinsonian, on recent protests in Rabat. Coincidentally, in my anecdote I was also waking up from a nap. Studying abroad can be very tiring:

Unfortunately Barca was defeated (don’t worry, two more games against Madrid in the next two weeks!) and the Real fan base made this clear! After the game ended the street was full of male Moroccan youth just swarming the street, yelling, and arguing… There was a fight in my street that involved knives and rocks, but thankfully it got broken up before anything too serious could happen!

So here’s the column:

Protests in Morocco have continued to remain peaceful and reports have said that the country is going through a “quiet reform.” In response to the February 20 Movement for Change, King Mohammed VI has created a panel to propose adjustments to the Moroccan constitution. In addition, the King has announced in a televised speech that he is willing to surrender some of his powers, such as the ability to appoint the prime minister and dissolve the parliament.

While politics and reform are something that Moroccans have demonstrated a peaceful and tranquil approach to, football (aka soccer) is something that really gets everybody’s blood pumping and boiling here. Not necessarily to the point of violence, but as a friend rather aptly joked, we’re more likely to see a riot erupt in Morocco resulting from football than from politics. The big question here is not “Where were you during the February 20 Movement for Change?” or “Where were you when the news of Egypt’s revolution broke out?” as one might expect, but rather “Where were you watching the final match of the World Cup last summer?”

Football overwhelmingly dominates the sports culture in Morocco. Moroccans are especially serious about the Spanish league. Every Moroccan friend I have has declared allegiance to either FC Barcelona or Real Madrid. Additionally, all my Moroccan friends play football and have been playing from a young age. While they may not play professionally, they sure do enjoy the recreation. Don’t you dare come between them and play time.

I cannot even begin to count the number of Messi or Ronaldo jerseys I’ve seen for sale in medinas across the country, and especially on the backs of young Moroccan boys.

The window of my apartment overlooks several cafés, one of them called L’Équipe (the team). On football game nights, whether Champion’s League, Spanish League or Moroccan League, you can depend on a full house, with all the men sitting on the patio, tightly packed around the TV, coffee and other refreshments in hand. Football is such a social experience here. Whether uniting or dividing friends with loyalties to Madrid or Barca, it brings everyone together to see who will conquer and who will admit defeat. While it is not so different from Americans huddling together to watch the Super Bowl, March Madness or the World Series, the two biggest cultural differences that I’ve observed is that practically all sports fans are football fans and that secondly, these sports fans are predominately male (way more so than in the States).

In the States, our sports interests are divided. Not EVERY American will choose between the Yankees and the Red Sox, the Colts and the Patriots, the Lakers and the Celtics, etc. In the States we’ve got a venn diagram of sports in our landscape, overlapping football (American), baseball, basketball and hockey—sports pluralism. Most people cannot agree on one dominant or favorite sport in the States, but it seems pretty clear-cut that football rules the sports scene here in an authoritarian manner. While there are other popular sports such as basketball and tennis, no other sport really has the same pulling power that football has. This football frenzy is not unique to Morocco; from my travels across Europe this past year I’ve seen that most countries outside of the States sure do love their football.

Football is chiefly a man’s world here. I’ll occasionally be able to find other females watching the matches at cafés, but they are usually fellow foreigners such as myself or girlfriends trying to spend time with their boyfriends who seemed to have dragged them there—reminding me of how I saw American women dragging their boyfriends with them to the premiere of “Sex and the City 2.”

Why is there such a big gender divide when it comes to football in Morocco? I’m not totally sure, but I can say that it is something that is not a recent practice. From a young age Moroccan boys play on a team and take an interest in sports news, but I cannot say that I’ve observed the same thing in girls. Even though my tomboy host sister has not expressed a great interest in football she’s a huge sports fan: her preferred sports are kayaking and kung fu.

Whatever the reasons for this cultural phenomenon, it is fair to say that football has the ability to bring all sorts of men together here and it is a beautiful thing to see so many Moroccans so passionate about something on game nights. As a foreign girl living over here in football-land I have been able to somewhat infiltrate this guy’s club and have taken a great liking to watching the Spanish league (hail to the Messi! Go Barcelona!), but I have also gotten used to often being the only girl at the café. This is no big deal because everyone is too absorbed in the game to pay me any attention or bother me.