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Tag Archives: school

The value of education

31 Friday May 2013

Posted by seejanesblog in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

children, Education, Morocco, school

It’s cliche to say, but education and our health are two of our most important possessions. Without either we don’t have much. Education is something I know I have taken for granted in my life. For one reason or another I didn’t apply myself when in school. I didn’t realize its value. And I’ve seen it happen to dozens of other people in my life: they choose to have fun more than to choose to learn.

In Morocco, there are thousands or millions of children living in the middle of seemingly nowhere who have no transportation to even get to their schools to learn. They walk or take a taxi or hitchhike each day to and from school. We picked up a girl and took her to school one day. Her walk would have been about 3 miles. We also picked up a young boy carrying a spiral notebook and took him 5 miles or more to his school. When we arrived at his school, there was nothing but boys milling about. That’s because girls are too valuable to have at home for housework and animal-tending to send to school. And also because the value of a boys’ education is greater than that of a girl’s to a family. It’s a fact. That’s how they think – – and I’m not saying that’s right or wrong. The fact that so many people believe it means there must be reasons for it. But it causes a literal ache in my belly to think of it. For one, it’s hard for the boys to get there. But for two, the girls aren’t even given a shot, in most cases. There is no transportation to and from school anywhere in Morocco. There are, though, social services that will provide vans and busses, but they are unreliable and sporadic. 

It makes me want to get a fleet of vans and help a community educate its children. But that would only be a drop in the bucket. 

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A non-Moroccan woman in Morocco

29 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by seejanesblog in Morocco

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

countryside, grand daughter, granddaughter, grandma, grandmother, hitchhiker, hitchhikers, intimate questions, moroccan woman, Morocco, non-Moroccan, non-Muslim, school, t, taxi, tourist

1. Men don’t touch women.
2. Men can’t break up the fight of two women by touching them; they can only use words.
3. Women hitchhikers will not get in to the car of a man, unless a woman is present.
4. Never let your daughter get into a car of a man or a Moroccan couple. But if there’s a tourist woman in the car, it’s ok.

I have learned these things firsthand. But the first one is iffy. In the medina I am often approached and touched by men but always in an affectionate, slap-on-the-arm kind of way when we are joking. But I’m not Muslim or Moroccan. And it’s obvious. So that must make it OK for them. It’s never in an offensive way. Not at all. And I quite enjoy the interactions. I’ve had comments like, “Where did you get your dress?” or “Look at your curly hair!” or “Do you think the reason you travelled so far to Morocco and then met me means we are meant to be together?” (to which I answer with a blank stare). I highly doubt a Moroccan woman would be asked these intimate questions. But I’m a tourist. I’m here to interact. And interact I do!

Whilst watching two women physically fighting about their sons, Mokhtar was helpless except with his words. He couldn’t step in and stop them physically since they are women. He could only stand on the sidelines with the other men and shout for them to stop. Had I been there, I could have stepped in and helped. Glad I wasn’t there.

Two women hitchhikers we picked up the other day would not have gotten in the car had I not been there. The presence of a woman, a tourist, helped increase their confidence that they would be safe.

Two women on the side of the road where we parked to take photos smiled shyly as I stood near them taking photos. After a few minutes, the older one approached Mokhtar and asked if we could take her granddaughter to school since she needed to be there in 20 minutes and no taxi was coming by. Of course! So grandma shook my hand and hugged and thanked profusely and granddaughter got in the car and off we went. The family dog happily joined grandma and she walked two miles or so back to her village assured of the safety of her granddaughter. All because of the female tourist in the car.

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