First impressions of Camp Flo-Rida
Seated on my bed, four of us in a room.
"That's why I like Feisel, it's very close to my name Russell . The best name I ever heard is Boujma. Because the louder you yell it, the more fun it is to say. BouJma!"
In their hands the two guys are holding the results of our English level testing. We have a lot of names that we will try to learn, but it will be tough. Our contact time with the whole group will be limited, since the activities will divide the kids between now and the rest of the week. But it's fun! Three long days, 7 AM until 11 PM full of activities, then a hurried rest before beginning. Beyond that, we have a beach day, a spectacle day and then the next morning everyone splits up to go home. Me going South to Faguig to see Jack and Ina.
A kilo of olives to my right, next to a couple of new books given to me to take back to Nkob once this experienceقÄîthe best weeks in all of the two years hereقÄîhas passed. (Big feeling of Deja Vu just now). In contrast to the past two days here, there is the din of an hundred young people bustling about. Outside our dormitory room in this large complex we have a sign pasted on the door, SEAN BEN ZACH & RUSSELL. Above us in the other floor is the girls' room, the 5 of them and maybe 60 Moroccan girls.
Now they're all quoting Ocean's 11-13, listening to the Immigrant song on my iPod (because Sean said he has not seen me without food in my hand, usually olives). Saying how it's strange to be around city kids, boys and girls how many of them could care less about learning English but that they are here for ulterior motives. What ulterior motives? Can't say, wink wink nudge nudge. Hey, that's not our concern or our responsibility. We're here to provide the entertainment and the English.
Waiting for dinner a half an hour from now.
What to say? Yesterday was a day like at the beach, knowing a hurricane was approaching, though bewitched by the calm waters and easily lulled into disbelief. But at the same time eager to have it start and then be confronted with the reality of that situation. Which is where we are now!
Sat for two hours while different groups of kids arrived, going again through my four questions to determine level: How are you? What is your name? How is your family, big or small? What do you like to study in school, art or science?
Most of the time this was all that was necessary, but I was happy when a young person sat down, confident and I was able to go further, asking " what did you do yesterday? What will you do after you finish at the lycee?"
Then we had an hour where the Moroccan staff did their rousing numbers, a clapping exercise before we led the hundred kids out to the courtyard. After lunch we were there throwing my football and my juggling ball alone, and now the skies thundered with our roards when we did our own version of the Arabic call-and-response that the Moroccan staff did prior to this. But instead of them singing "I am speaking" and the kids yelling back : "I am listening" we chose this : call :Apple bottom jeans response : the boots with the fur.
The reasoning is just that at camp last year it was a song people liked and so it became their anthem and their catchphrase, using it to get attention but also have a common point of reference and something American that is tangible and gets the students excited.
So im going to put the link to the video here without having seen the video : I do this a lot I know, but c'est la vie when internet is too slow to watch what I'm sharing, too.!
So far things seem good. The great advantage for us is that we are only responsible for our activities. We don't have the responsibility of the kids here, that heavy burden is all on the Moroccan staff, who are professionals. And it will be exhausting for us as it is, so any additional responsibility I'm glad we don't have. It was good today to just stand and watch the main Moroccan staff set the tone for the rest of camp, fun but controlled. And the man was quick to split up troublesome groups and to give a piercing stare to those who were out of line.
Most people here I've met before . There are a few brand-new people, Russell, Hanna and Maggie. But still for those that I met before, most of them briefly, I am seeing for the first time again in this new situation.
And we've already bonded over She-Wolf and the evolution of Shakira. Not just me and one other, but everyone. It's crazy! But I'm glad to have her to use to help me connect bridges to this group of diverse individuals.
A lot of Southerners in this group, compared to the overall Peace Corps population. A North Carolina girl, a Kentucky girl and a strapping Tennessee lad (me). Then three from Upstate/Central New York, two from Colorado and one Indiana Colt.
So, first impressions. Our director is a fine Moroccan lady that exhudes calm. A rare quality in the Youth and Sports profession. So, we have a plan for the week, a schedule for each day, my English lessons all ready to go and a by-line that we'll use and elaborate throughout the week (Apple bottom jeans, the boots with the furrrrrr!) So voila. And I'm happy to find that the married couple Sean and Emily have already contacted Jack and Ina and plan to go to South after here. So that means I'll have someone to accompany me "over 400 chilometri of the most barren part of Morocco" at least, so says the guide book. It's the border to Algeria and the little peninsula into Algeria known as Faguig, where I'll visit those of our staj who have the least visitors, who said to us at PPST of their town : "Come visit us! Just go and when you get to the middle of nowhere, then you're already halfway there!"
Update before bed:
Some good photos taken, some good songs sung, watched the kid's translate for each other, heard the Moroccan counselor's sing for more than an hour and the kids respond in ecstasy. And when we went up to bat everyone deflated a little bit. But they participated, even with shot attention spans.
Shared our first meal together, the loud shriek of 100 people in the same room... except our table. Wondering why noone at our table was speaking, I asked Emily and Sean: Did we pick the quiet table? Or did we make the table quiet?
So, the story of tonite
A few minutes after eating, we were given a special task. This was not the first and not the last time that the Moroccan staff threw the responsibility to us of entertaining the kids. And without any forewarning. But, the golden rule of camp is to always have something ready, a fun game and happy song ready at a quick draw from your back pocket. I had my few things. So I felt good when the lead counselor Zach whispered to me: Thanks Ben.
So the first special task was to spend 20 minutes with the kids while the Moroccan staff ate. My suggestion? Happy Birthday. If they didn't know it, then we'd teach it to them. And if it was not anyone's birthday that day (1/3 chance that it would be) then we'd pretend it was Sean's birthday today! See? You have to be creative.
And in order to stall, after the English version we sang the song in French, then Spanish, Arabic and Tashleheet! Then my other suggestion was that we sign the song Ash tatatata that I learned in guitar. But I never learned the words, so we turned to one of the Moroccan counselors, who recognized the name. Imagine my surprise when we play the first three notes and then suddenly everyone in the entire room bursts into song. I looked up from my fingers to gaze at my fellow PCVs in astonishment, who were as surprised as me.
"Today was special, so props to Ben for bringing his guitar, Hannah speaking in Spanish, and Maggie and Meredith singing in Tashleheet..." Zach
Then after a little bit of time to rearrange everything, running up to the room and grabbing my Cormac McCarthy book (just in case) I came back down to hear the same man that sang the Arabic song was now seated before the entire group of kids, chanting, playing drums at a blazing speed and holding them enthralled.
Then he and the other staffer and a few volunteers took turns dancing and singing. But they took things up to an even higher pitch when a surprise visit by a Moroccan party band came with their 6 different drums and two medieval-type brass long horns.
Now, these are city girls, as it is, capable of great surprises just in their clothing choice, their decision to not wear the veil and their liberal use of makeup. But there's a belief in Arabic cultures that each woman responds to a certain frequency, or musical rhythm or passage of music. And if they happen to hear that specific thing then they are completely unaccountable and unable to do anything other than go berserk. It's a good excuse anyway, for women living in a repressive culture. And apparently these musicians must have hit that right thing, because their first song started and these girls went out of it.
It was a strange sight, their unbridled hair which to compare this big city to my little town, I've only seen one girl that didn't cover her hair in all of 5 months in site, but they started headbanging. Hard. In big circular motions and the hair flying about. I did the Berber dances I knew and was happy to see the traditional Moroccan party band people watching me and nodding with approval.
Finally the other counsellor began to sing again, and they surprised us again by telling us we needed to fill in time. Zach looked at me, and I said spontaneously : If you're happy and you know it.
So we sang one of the more amazingly positive and fun songs, that every one of us, all 300,000,000 Americans and many others around the world know:
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands
If you're happy and you know it and you really want to show it
And if you're happy and you know it clap your hands.
Then to stall we added all kinds of verses : touch your head, snap your fingers, whistle.
So this was our night, but on paper it seems deflated and not half as wonderful as it was. It doesn't capture the feeling of singing the Bananas Unite song, spinning in circles while twenty Moroccan people look at you and hoping your enthusiasm convinces them to be more open as well.
Now we are picking out the Stars of the Day. Rehab and Ahmed, because he was helping the other kids with Uno, and for screwing over Russell (awesome strategery). Rehab because she knew the words for If you're happy and you know it., and helped us translate it into Arabic: ila kuntik frhan u erfti ... sfq!
Now we are deciding which classes go to which clubs first. I'll go to Hannah's club with my class, focused on GLOW activities, or Girls Leading Our World stuff. While I have 4 lessons I'm required to teach, the Club leader's are supposed to have one amazing lesson that they do 4 or 5 times throughout the week. At the same time it's stressful in that they are repeating things, but it means for their activity they only have a small window to make an impact on each group of young people.
OK! Good night to all my loyal family, friends, and the unknown Eyeballs reading this online. Worried a little bit that each boy and girl will still be alive when we wake up tomorrow. Glad to have gone through camp counseling in high school, and glad more to finally have used it without ever having done so since the training course has finished!
Quotes of the day:
"I was impressed today, it was not so segrated as at other camps. They've been waiting this day for a while."
"Gosh, the hormones."
"SO they were saying foosah words, 'i'm speaking' and the kids responded with 'i'm listening'. Again and again. But they were using the darija word conjugated in the fooshah (classical Arabic) conjugations."
Me: "Woah, creepy."
Emily : "Yeah, welcome to the world of speaking Tam. Where it's all Arabic words but with the Berber conjugations."
Then:
"Really, why do they call it Post- Pre service Training? PPST, Doesn't make sense. Post-pre..? But I just decided this last week, we will call it Post- IST. Or P.I.S.T. Which is what we are when we get there."
"The coolest phrase ever for walking around is in Tash. They ask you what you're doing and you say, 'Zigzag'. I'm going to take tha back to the U.S."
"What's the official language for England?"
"Almost had to think about that one."
"They speak the Queen's English!"
"What's the official language for your mom?"
"This is really going to cut into my 12-hour sleep schedule. 11 to 11."
"Really? I'm more a 12-12 kind of guy."
"In Ramadan I stretch it out to 3 or 4."
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