Definitely Nameless !

"I am ashamed of belonging to the human race". I am ashamed and disgusted by the skin I wear and the blood I warm. At eleven, Mohammed Dorra died in front of me, some meter or two away from my eyes, inside a big black box, on a wooden low table, between a father’s arms. Not in a hospital, not in a bed, not by a heart attack! No ! Those were bullets … triggers in guns … fingers of Men! I didn’t know then that that was “The” confession! That was it! I was no longer fooled, not lied at or told things anymore! “things, things, things, Dammit”! Things embellished with colorful paints and furs, easy on the eye and soft on the touch … Truths yet to peel! Only then humanity's tongue slipped and unintentionally confessed that I, too, was in an awful world and belonged to an awful race.

Some fingers killed Mohammed and some similar ones extinguished my candle flame of life.

 

But that was just the beginning … that was an introduction … an appetizer. Because when I close my eyes now, with Mohammed I see blood on dust from holes in bodies … bodies laid one on another And next to the other, one on another Or next to the other…forgive me, the imagery is so graphic and intense I look away and look back then back and forth, now I don’t make the difference where the bodies are relatively laid anymore. With Mohammed I see more fresh still warm blooded but lifeless bodies of beautiful skin and hair not washed and buried, not respected and dignified for the bit of life it once dared to taste; fresh still warm blooded but lifeless bodies of beautiful skin and hair raped! Goodness, raped! Still rapped????? Dead and raped????

Why?! How?!
 

What more ? Here is more !

 

I see scenes of childbirth and I hate mothers and shout at doctors: PUT HER BACK IN, GET HIM BACK IN! Years go by and babies grow and cross my ways and I feel sad for them. I feel sad and wonder:
Who will be their Mohammed Dorra? (If not Mohammeds themselves)
Hein ?! ..

Cause there Will be more of him, way more than what I- or you- can imagine; so much more we will lose the count or abandon the list.

 

I see dictated masses and wrinkled faces and burning fires and liars and filthy prisons and colorless seasons and full cemeteries of deserted tombs and loud bombs and history books and fear and authority and Death!!! I see, smell, spit Death! Then I see empty beds … empty streets … empty faces... I see silence ... and I am convinced there is no hope! 

And at the end of this gallery, this display, there is one more piece of art work, a master piece crafted, designed and studied by the chosen race. A portrait meticulously cared for, and delicately hanged and royally framed. A portrait of an evil-wicked-terrorizing-smile, pending from the right but not too stretched in avoidance of coming across as less evil; even the dimple is suicidal and almost inexistent from fear of being too close to the tip of the lip to catch!

 

And at the end of this display that my memory vomits every night, don’t you dare congratulate me on knowing this little about us and our wars. Don’t congratulate anyone for being outraged or take it as a sign of cultivated knowledge. Don't you dare say "it's okay" ... Don't you dare to even try to deviate my attention ...
In fact, I now dare and declare I want to leave you, you, you and this knowledge, with this knowledge, with this burden for You to declare and dare to carry.
I wish I never read, I wish I never saw or heard or smelled or felt. I wish I never knew!

Education?!... knowledge?! They're all a curse and I envy the blind and the deaf for their handicapped knowledge.

 

“God will not forgive us”, God should not forgive us!

My Gap Year: The First Chapter.

Hello world; all of you few people who still follow this long forgotten blog. I am sorry I haven't been very persistant in my writting lately; I haven't been writting at all actually. I don't have any reasonnable excuse but, on Times Red version of Ain't no Sunshine beats, I have produced an update of what I think of my first 6 months as a Gap Year Student - if you care to know :)

 

 

Since my last post here, I haven’t lost interest in the main areas I had set to work on during my Gap year ( namely: Social Entrepreneurship, Education and Work experience in the Moroccan context plus Bettering my Basketball, Music/ Luth and German) . However, what I choose to speak to you about in this one is the way all these interests and activities I have been doing have paid dividends in creating space for me in the Moroccan youth social scene. 

  

From the very first weeks following my return to Morocco, I was already aware of the distances that unhesitatingly disconnected me to my “Home country” and that progressively widened throughout the two years I spent in Johannesburg. At the beginning, I felt disoriented, unwelcomed and remorseful. Disoriented because, the phone numbers, the references, the jargon I used to employ with my environment before, wasn’t in use anymore. Unwelcomed because the one thousand and one friends I used to have had moved to distant cities and worlds to which I could never belong. And lastly, remorseful because I wished I had invested more time and effort into safeguarding my relationships with my people.

 

All this led me to reassess the worth of the education and the achievements I have been seeking abroad, if all I have become in the eyes of my community is the elitist, haughty over-achiever (an attribute, which’s underpinnings I am still analytical of). I have become that kid who once was one of their own but who can’t fit in anymore; me who, for the past couple of years, have found purpose and drive in the betterment of my people. So I asked myself: How can I ever be the change I want to see if I don’t belong to where the change needs to happen anymore?

 

I had my reality check and serious decision making needed to follow. 

 

First, I started by prioritizing the events I wanted to attend according to their audiences. All the international conferences and foreign initiatives that needed me to travel abroad had to be neglected/ dropped while local and national ones topped the list. Afterwards, I set as a goal to attend the three most important youth gatherings scheduled before the end of 2012: TechCamp Morocco, StartUp Weekend Marrakech and finally the launch of the Moroccan Center for innovation and Social Enterprise (MCISE). 

 

Second, I made sure I invested time and effort into my personal relationships. I had to rediscover my social skills and put the ALAian* in me in context. I started paying close attention to the people around me and making the first steps towards them. Whether having lunch with a colleague, studying for a test with a classmate or checking on an absent teammate, small initiatives eventually made a difference.

 

And lastly, I needed to restore my old relationships and revive them. This last task turned out to be almost effortless thanks to social media. All I had to do was send messages and remind people of my presence. The former resulted in follow up conversations and eventually to calls and lunches. Family, however, needed me to travel around a little for long weekend visits. Which my parents happily paid for as each one of them was eager to show everyone how grown up I have become but mostly to prove that sending me all the way to South Africa was not such a bad idea after all.

 

All these events, outings and travels included family, friends and elders as well as civil society, youth activists and aspiring social entrepreneurs. But most importantly, it plunged me in the Moroccan social scene. I surrounded myself with my people. I needed to have a glimpse into how each one of them thinks, what they talk about and what makes us who we are. I wanted to put myself out there and open up to them, talk to them about my experiences, my interests. I wanted to know them and I wanted them to know me just as much.

 

Today, as I think back about the first six months of my Gap year, I am confident to say that I have succeeded in making my experience so far most fruitful socially.

The three events I mentioned before, I attended and made best use of: I joined the MCISE team, got chosen by TechCamp to speak on national radio about the National Entrepreneurial Camp, and developed an idea to a business plan with a video teaser during the Start-Up Weekend.

 

I have put self regulation to the test and committed to rediscovering my social skills within the Moroccan context. A process that was quite challenging at the beginning as I couldn’t open up to people as easily as I hoped but that begun to pay off recently. The network I built respects my difference and finds value in it. I have been invited to Speak at a TEDx event, offered to organize another TEDx event and have been asked to tell my story with entrepreneurial leadership at an orientation camp for high school students. 

 

And of course, what could be a better way to spend weekends than being spoilt by aunt’s delicious dishes; the same aunt who fiercely objected my departure to ALA – my departure anywhere actually- but who now encourages her children to apply?!  ( Nothing, Absolutely Nothing :p )

 

To be very honest with you, I came back thinking Morocco needs me, that it is waiting for me and that– blame it on my optimistic ALAian* background- change is easy. However, Morocco taught me that change is happening right now right here! Moreover, it will take me more than a business plan and some formal meetings to reach the dreams I have for this country. I have been challenged at all levels and learnt to listen and pay attention. I have had to walk in peoples – Moroccan- shoes and take initiatives to reach out to them.

 

At the end of the day, all this gave me so much perspective. But most importantly, it has fueled me with ever more zeal to pursue my passion for education. Instead of naively optimistic, I am now rather scared of how immense the responsibility I have taken upon myself is; scared of how big my aspirations are and scared of whether I have what it takes to realize them. The only thing I am sure about is the hard work I will have to put in if I want to be who I want to be.

 

*The way ALA students and alumni like to call themselves.

A Presidential Debate ... in My Head !

Donnerstag der elfte Oktober _  (Thursday 11th October)

I remember Miss Ketley’s words the day she announced to everybody in assembly that she was leaving ALA. I remember she mentioned something about decision making in life. She said that sometimes in life our problem does not come from deciding between a wrong and a right. Sometimes our problem comes from deciding between two rights. And judging from what happened to me today I can confidently say that the latter is hardest. Hardest ? It’s hardest, "stressfulest", "unpleasantest" and all the other non-grammatically correct superlatives I couldn’t add in mercy of some sensitive English speakers who may feel offended.  

Today my boss informed me of the president’s decision about my monthly pay.

 I am devastated !

I now feel for the mosquitoes ! How important they are to the ecosystem and how under appreciated they are by human beings ! In my twenty years of existence I don’t think I have ever felt this belittled.

Today I walked to the train station. I wanted to think about this dilemma. Should I stick to the job I have loved so much ; only caring about the life experiences I am getting and the new Network I am entering ? Or should I leave before I am legally registered as an employee ; regaining my worth and innovating in something else?

For the half hour walk, arguments from both stances debated in my head. I can only thank Mr Kangami for teaching me Opportunity cost and product Utility. If anything, it made things way more complicated to arbitrate !

So I thought maybe this decision shouldn’t be taken by me. Maybe I should learn from Google and let the open source detect and solve the issue. Outsourcing it may give me an objective judgement and lessen the stress of the process since I am already stressed enough by other things ( SATs !!!! At my age !!!! Not healthy … em em !)

So world, there you go… Below you will find arguments from the two teams inside my head. I will name the first « Team Barack Obama » and the other « Team Mitt Romney », simply because I have a clear idea of where the first team is going to take me, when the second … eeeeeh … Well I got guidelines !

SO !!! All the people out there … This is an important cost-benefit analysis. It will determine the course of my life in the near future. Please take it seriously.

Here we go.

Team Obama :

-->My job is linked to both Education and Entrepreneurship. Two domains I Enjoy very much.

-->I get exposed to a new Network of professionals and strategic people.

-->I get a Normal, day-to-day work experience in a country I will come back to.

-->I am learning how to accomplish new (tedious but necessary) tasks.

-->I get introduced to the conditions of Education in Morocco.

-->I get a closer look into what my peers who are coming from underprivileged areas suffer from.
-->I have a (Pathetic, minuscule, tiny, bit of a …) salary

-->I do something of my life

-->I …. Euuh …. Have lunch in a different restaurant every time I’m in Casa!

-->I …  don’t have to do house work since I’m out all day long

-->I feel independent and grown up (huumm… Priceless … AISHH ! Priceless)

-->I … don’t know !

Ok !

Team Romney :

-->I am eating from my college apps and SAT practice time !!!!

-->I am taking time from NEC. (I should be handing a follow up plan in 4 days. (Jihad if you are reading this Allah Ghaleb … Hanti akhti katchoufi had le7rira li ana fiha)

-->I will drop every plan I had made for the scholars 

-->I’ll be spending more money than I will make.

-->I leave my house at 8h30 and only come back at 10 pm. So basically I come back DEAD !

-->I have to put up with a stressful work environment .

-->I will probably get tired of staying at home and give my first start up a shot or find a better job !

I think that’s it.

See, how impossible my life is !?

 

Conversations with Myself.

25th September 2012

It’s 10 :10pm. I just got back home. I come in, greet and enter my room. I change my clothes, make ablution and pray. I tightly close my eyes, focus on one special prayer and fold my prayer mat. I go out of my room, I prepare the table and eat. I re-enter my room. I grab my external hard drive. I put on some Eddie Vedder, lie down and start thinking! 

Hind this is how you spend your days. This is the answer your friends around the world have been asking you for all this time. 

They would greet in an impatient tone and say “So … How are your days ?”. They look for excitement in your answer, they look for a surprise, a detail to congratulate you for. But soon … “Good” ends it all. It comes to crumble their hopes. You say it but never really stop to think about it, Hind. You never think about it. Are they really “Good”… your days? Cause you know … you just spent five hours at work preparing a proposal; One hour eating lunch alone and revising for your evening German Class; four hours in transportation between taxis and trains, two of which you used as your only SAT prep time; then finally three more hours in an intensive German class where you struggle to pronounce your age in Deutsch.

Hind… Those five hours you spent at work, you were serving the brilliant but most needy high schoolers of your country. They are orphans and you were trying to make their lives easier. With each letter typed on that word document you hoped your plans succeed in honoring the hard working and deserving young people they are. And with each zero added to that budget you compiled, you feared to scare away potential sponsors and add another failure to your life story. Those five hours, you used as best as you can to serve. Your job is making you thankful for all the opportunities you’ve had in life, but is also making you humbled by these orphans’ tremendous belief and optimistic approach to the future. 

Your job inspires you Hind.

Hind… That hour you ate alone made you reconsider the times you took company for granted. The times you wished to flee society and live in the wild. While multitasking between dipping the fry in the Ketchup sauce, learning “to be” in German and checking if you still had enough money for tomorrow, you missed Alexis, Jason, Dhvani, Dimeji, Kenza, Roseline, Rima, Reda and Zack, Bethlehem, Linda … You thought of the few advisory lunches and the countless house competitions you missed and wished you had the chance to be in your second house, with your second family one more time.

For a second, Hind, you cherished the people in your life, played with your memories then tingled all over.

Hind… Those four hours you spend between trains and taxis, entrench you in your society. You wait forever for that taxi to come. When it comes, you beg it to stop and take you to the defunct King’s Boulevard. As soon as it hears about your final destination, it speeds and leaves its smoke for you to inhale. No taxi wants to die in the traffic of that boulevard. So no matter how early you are, you and a dozen other smoke inhalers will always be ashamed, blamed and left behind for the more merciful to empathize. Right there, between two rejections, you’ll always take time to look at these passengers who are now too angry at even their speeding watches, but who minutes ago, in the train, had let their heads loose and surrendered to the morning sleep. You look at them and finally understand your people. You get it now.

You suffer, Hind, together. You feel that togetherness... You forget the suffering! 

Hind … Those three last hours of your day that you spent learning another language are the sweet cherry on the three floored cake. It’s true you are out since 8am. It’s true you had to take the last tramway home. But it’s also true you always wanted to hear more than the “schlakhen schlakhen” in your cousins’ conversations, see more in the Arte TV documentaries and twist your tongue in more than three vernaculars. Those three hours were the last and hardest. But, heartily, unearthing again the leftovers of your motivation, you forced your hand to raise itself. You forced your mouth to ask your teacher and let your ears enjoy every sound in the “Dir vereinigten Staaten von Amerika”. The United States of America! The tiredness disappeared; the world stopped noising but not the sound of your dream destination to further your studies. That one kept noising and it all made sense then Hind. 

Oh how happy you were to put your dream on a different vibe: The German one!

You’re lying down, “Hard Sun” on speakers and that impatient question in your mind. You think but I speak for you. And I say, yes! Your days are “Good”. Real Good. You don’t need more. You ask and get enough. You live. You laugh. You lead and follow. You live Hind. You learn. You learn some more. Your body gets tired. You exercise your mind. Your mind gets tired. You go to sleep … a better person than ever before. And before I sleep, I smile. 

For a while, that silent but giggling inner happiness is what I am feeling. And it’s all well deserved.

I Am Taking A Gap Year

Thursday 6th Sept 2012

“ I am taking a Gap Year! “ …

A sentence that I have repeatedly used in different occasions.  A sentence that also helped me distinguish myself in the eyes of some (entertainingly) astounded ALA guests. Rather than speaking about my triumph in getting into some world renowned university (that I did not get into anyway) I would pitch my Gap Year plans with an ambitious tone and excited smile, successfully captivating their attention for the rest of the tour.  It saved me from filling out the housing forms, the admitted student’s surveys, the meal plans forms ... and all the boring stuff (hum … humm). This Gap year allowed me to enjoy my summer to the fullest; sleeping until my body refused to do so anymore and planning my days as I wake up. I enjoyed every bit of it … so far… Until today!

My days were glorious. I took a gap year as I always wanted to, I succeeded in my NEC roles, I started taking intensive German classes, and most importantly … I found THE job. After a meeting set by Mr Oummih with the director of the Regional Investment Center of Casablanca, the latter invited me to work for the Moroccan Student Foundation in Casa. The Moroccan Student Foundation is a nonprofit organization that provides support, guidance and financial help for high school seniors who come from orphanages but who still achieved really well in the national examination. When I read the foundation’s mission statement I was absolutely in love with them. Moreover, my job required me to design a follow up program for the MSF’s scholars and alumni and therefore convert the administrative relationship that the beneficiaries and the benefactors share to a more amicable and familial one. For someone who is all about education, self-development and event planning, there was no excuse not to take the job.

Soooo … as enthusiastic as I sounded in the previous paragraph, I started work on Monday. I went to the office with so many ideas about what I want to achieve for the foundation that my head ached half way between the train station and the office building.

I was ready …

 

  (My Calendar)

 

-          Bring it on world … I am an ALA GY and I got all the time and effort for you!

LOL!  

Monday … was utterly unproductive. They forgot to tell me to bring my lap top, and there was no way I was gonna achieve anything without a typing gadget that can catch some internet. I had to leave at midday, go back to Rabat and work from there.

Tuesday, I went to the doctor early in the morning to check why my heel was aching so bad and the doctor said he had to perform a little “medical intervention” to help my heel recover. I never thought razor blades and bloodshed were included. He never bothered to mention them either. Anyway, to make a long story short, I had to stay home for the rest of the day and call my “BOSS” to explain my situation.

Yesterday, unearthing the leftovers of my fresh enthusiasm, I went to work. I entered the office at 10 am with a smile and a noisy crutch under my right underarm. I waited until 11 to greet the first employee to come and eventually stopped waiting for my “BOSS” who was supposed to confirm my work but never came.

My work was then delayed, and everything had to be postponed till today.

Today, I still managed to find some motivation (it was on the verge of a cliff trying to go suicidal) and entered my office promptly on time, again. 10 am, 11 am, 12 am … Ah 12:15? 12:15 once?! … 12:15 twice ?!  12:15 is his majesty’s final say. He comes in, greets everybody in a nonchalant manner and dives into his “Bureau”.  I gave him 5 minutes to settle then peeked to check if he is ready to receive his new-ever-annoying and too-hard-working employee. He noticed. I kinda trembled. He noticed again. I gave up protocol and just went in!

I showed him my work, he gave me feedback. I corrected and improved the results. But, by the time I finished, it was already 5pm and I had to leave. I sent him a softcopy of my work and asked him to send me back his new feedback. I grabbed my bag and got out of there.

I just wanted to leave. I needed to leave. I felt underappreciated, unproductive and misplaced. I thought, if he could just make full use of my energy and my willingness to provide it, I would have done this work on Monday already. I could have moved way forward and done so much more in 4 days. I mean … It’s four days!! I called dad and explained that I was frustrated, that I don’t like the unhealthy communication between employees in the office and that everyone is so programmed to do things. I was frustrated also because the cause I came here for, and that seemed so beautiful in the mission statement, was all reduced and crashed to simple, automatic and uneducated actions…. Too automatic for my taste…

 

                  (StressBall from Miss Zsofia)
 

 

The selection process of the scholarship beneficiaries disgusted me. They do not call them by name, surname or even by city. They call the applicants by “folders”: Do you have that 007 folder from OCP (OCP is a partner -_-) . Have you seen my 91 folder from last year … For a while I thought.. STOP! Please Use dishes! It would have made me wanna work more in those stressing times when food becomes the remedy! Or Please use colors! It would have sounded prettier. “Hey! Can you call purple? I have your sky blue …” God! The things routine can slip off the mind. The things repetitive behavior can dissolve from our consciousness.

After this, there was no hope for a new inexperienced little GY to feel welcomed there anymore. I understood that this was “their Job” and they “Had” to do it. I also understood that I was part of that job as well. I am not the first to come and go as soon as I find a better place to be in. But most of all, and as the setting sun shone its lights through the train window, I had a moment of epiphany … mmmm …  I am not unwelcomed cause if you think about it, I actually just got the most honest welcome to the work ethics of my Moroccan society.

Dad found nothing unusual in what I was narrating. He said that it’s just the way it’s always been done here and that maybe I am the one who is not so acquainted to it. He said that it’s good to be observant and compare between what I have opened my eyes to in ALA and what  I am finding at my work place, but it is not healthy for me nor for my work to keep wanting everything to be under similar conditions.

Mr. O … Mr. Veda, you can already list all the lessons you taught us about this kind of situations (self regulation should be number one). Ms. Laura … Ms Chemeli, you can imagine how I am longing for college at this very moment. Mr Peter … Thank you for teaching me how to properly welcome a stranger into a new environment.  

 

PS I:  This is the frustrated me! Tomorrow I will probably still wake up and find lots of motivation and energy to go and serve_ My Boss is still an educated man, my colleagues are doing the best they can as well. It’s just that I am used to other ways of doing things.

PS II: I am well aware that the experience only matters when lived in its entirety; the above included.