Well, we have moved to our final site in L'Mghrib. We left from Meknes on the 27th at 6:30 am and arrived in our city in south-central Morocco a mere 14 hours later. We took a train for five hours, had a two (turned 3) hour layover and took a bus over the Atlas Mountains for the final, hair-raising leg of our journey. As I sat on that bus, wondering legitimately if I would make it alive to my final site, I reflected back on the past 11 weeks in Morocco. I came here with no language, and now I can communicate most of what I need to. I came here vegan and now I (unexcitedly) eat the meat that is incorporated into nearly every traditional dish. I came here willing and enthusiastic to experience new things, not contemplating just how much those new experiences would exhaust me.
Since arriving in our new city, Aaron and I have been surrounded by Darija 24/7, and a new language, Tashli7it, to boot. In training, we spoke with each other, our teacher and the other volunteers in English. Our host mom in our training site even spoke some English and used it with us whenever miscommunications began to arise. I didn't realize the comfort and ease that lurked in hearing those familiar English words. Now I feel confused, lost and unsure of what's happening around me nearly all the time. Sure, I understand a lot of what people direct towards me. My understanding of basic Darija is good enough to communicate about everyday needs: where I'm going, when we're eating, how the weather is. But you know what my Darija isn't good enough to do? It's not good enough to allow me to form deep connections. The ability to tell jokes is gone. I can't communicate my personality - I speak like a toddler in Darija and can hardly explain what I'm doing that day, let alone describe my passions. I can't explain my feelings in eloquent ways and this lack of ability to communicate is frustrating, exhausting and dispiriting at best. In bad moments, I feel tears prick my eyes and wonder if I'll ever, EVER be able to understand everything.
I'm lucky to have my husband with me, to have some built-in support. However, anyone who knows Aaron knows he is fully unfazed by anything life throws at him. Couple that with his natural ability in language, and he's hardly feeling any of the same frustrations as I am. He laughs at miscommunications and takes every moment of confusion in stride, smiling widely and totally unperturbed by his obvious foreignness. He thrives in the constant unfamiliarity, whereas I feel myself withering. I know that I shouldn't be upset by my language skills - I knew no Darija three months ago and now I can carry out conversations. I should be thrilled with my progress. I now recognize that learning a new language (for me, at least) isn't a time where I can easily focus on my successes. Instead, failing to explain or understand something plagues me and I wonder, wonder, wonder, "When will I understand?" I recognize in myself the unfortunate trait of wanting instant success - I like doing things I'm naturally good at. That's probably part of the reason I haven't learned a language before. I always quit when it begins to get hard. And by virtue, learning a language is difficult. There is going to be a stage where you flounder for the right words, or any words at all, you make embarrassing vocabulary swaps and people laugh at you. For me to grow (in Darija and in life) I need to take these moments in stride, try to remember how far I've come, and know that one day, I will understand.
I want to dedicate (if people dedicate blog posts) to my students - specifically my emergent bilingual students. You are brave and incredible for learning language in the stressful circumstances that you do it in, and I hope one day to be as fearless as you are.
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