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Last night was perhaps the first night I've spent without a cell phone in the past 8 years. I certainly wasn't an early adopter of the things, and I don't use mine regularly at all.
But, when I absolutely couldn't get it to charge yesterday, something had to be done. I took it to my regular guy at the Meditel store (that would be Rachid) and he offered to look into it overnight. In all honesty, I'd been planning to buy a new one. I'm issue of a throw-away society, after all; why repair when you can replace? But Rachid though it could be fixed with minimal effort, so I left it in his capable hands for the night.
I don't think I had any actual physical signs of withdrawl -- no shaking or cold sweats or anything. But without the phone, I did feel somewhat vulnerable, like something big was missing. Information and Communication Technologies (ICTs) are such a huge part of life in the developing world that I really felt lost without it. Besides, I went to quite a deal of trouble to get that formerly T-mobile Motorola phone unlocked when I'd arrived -- I'd had it in mind to use it the whole year or until it was stolen, which ever came first. It was a trusty solider in the fight for finding things to do and staying in touch with folks here in Morocco.
The phone was returned safe and sound (and charged) this morning; I picked it up after Cataloging and promptly started calling and texting, blissful at the reunion with my old friend. Rachid didn't charge me at all for his services -- but I've over-paid several times in the past, so I think it all evens out. After yesterday's episode, I have to admit, though, that I can't imagine what life would be like for me without the Internet.
In short, banish the thought of going Internet-less for a day! The very idea sends shivers down my spine.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Medical care in Rabat
The last thing that anyone wants is to be ill while abroad. I've been having some problems with my knee, and finally had a watershed moment last Monday. Without thinking, I went to my favorite pharmacy.
The pharmacist insisted that I see a physician, and sent me to one down the street. Not only was I seen THAT DAY by a man who'd graduated from prestigious medical schools in France, but the 1/2 hour consultation cost me less than the $25 co-pay that I have through my grant program.
I didn't want to wait to order the medications through the grant, so I went back to the pharmacy. Medications for 20 days cost under $20. In short, $45 later, I have complete peace of mind that I'm receiving very good care.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Le coq d'Agdal
For most of the winter months, I could hear a rooster in one of the courtyards behind the apartments. He was a very devoted singer as well as a bit of an insomniac. Quite literally, he sang night and day. It always made me think of this precious song by Claude Nougaro about a rooster that's in love with a grandfather clock.
Time was probably also against the modern day Moroccan lover (see lyrics), and I can only imagine that the Agdal rooster was likely made into a meal of some kind (see recipe). The Moroccan bird's fate likely involved less wine, though.
I realized that I missed the late-night Don Juan's song only when I started hearing his replacement recently. Fortunately, the new rooster has better sleeping patterns, or is less love-struck.
Time was probably also against the modern day Moroccan lover (see lyrics), and I can only imagine that the Agdal rooster was likely made into a meal of some kind (see recipe). The Moroccan bird's fate likely involved less wine, though.
I realized that I missed the late-night Don Juan's song only when I started hearing his replacement recently. Fortunately, the new rooster has better sleeping patterns, or is less love-struck.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
All about the numbers
Within the short space of one week, we've been hit with not one but TWO changes to numbering systems in Morocco.The post office has decided to create and distribute zip codes (postal codes) to everyone here in Rabat. I first noticed billboards along the roads, requesting folks indicate their post codes for quicker mail service. I didn't know mine (every piece of mail I get is addressed to a different post code, and some pieces don't have a postal code listed at all), and was amused at the idea.
Then, on about Wednesday, a sticker appeared near the mailboxes in my apartment, telling me my postal code. I'm 10090 -- a number no one had used before to send me mail, I'm quite sure.
While the United States were gearing up to change to summer time this weekend, we in Morocco were gearing up to add an additional digit to our phone numbers. I've been used to "phasing in" new things (the Y2K bug fears and changes to years, etc.), but overnight between Friday and Saturday, the phone systems all switched at once. It's now imposible to make calls without adding the new digit. To be honest, on Saturday when my calls didn't go through, I assumed my phone was just broken again.
These changes are no doubt positive ones, and I'm glad to see Morocco moving ahead in this way. I'm also glad that the Fulbright office shared news about the phone number changes, and that the post office was kind enough to advertise the postal codes. I still may not know if I have class tomorrow (I'll assume I do until I hear otherwise, I guess), but at least I know my new phone number.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Through the grapevine
ESI students are great. On Tuesday, several indicated in their FaceBook status that they were pleased with the choice of new director for the school.
It's official: Mr Lemallem will be the new director. The announcement came the day of the week when I'm not on campus, so I'm pleased that the students were so actively mentioning it in the social sphere. It's still difficult for me to understand when news breaks at the school -- my Derija isn't exactly improving and folks here are so bi- and tri-lingual that they forget that not all can understand.
Unlike American university searches for Presidents and Heads, nothing about this process was transparent for me, as a teacher from the outside. Suffice it to say, I'm very much hoping to meet the new director at some point before the end of the year. I tend not to be notified about faculty meetings, so this might be more difficult than it would seem.
On a related front, we'll be receiving two days of vacation for the Prophet's birthday next week. Other Muslim countries will celebrate on Monday and Tuesday, but Morocco started the month a day later, and will have the holiday on Tuesday (with our second day off on Wednesday). Students want to make a long weekend of it and not come in on Monday, and no one can really blame them. Instructors are in a very undesirable position, though, of trying to guess whether it's worth having class, or better to reschedule ahead of time. In one of my Monday classes, my students and I opted to reschedule. In the other class, it's still unclear whether we'll have class on Monday, five days from now.
I must say that one of the draws of coming to Morocco was the knowledge that I would be forced to (re-)learn to "go with the flow". It's just not worth developing high blood pressure over what are, to me, last-minute changes, and ones that are not communicated to the instrutors. Returning to the North American way of things, in a few months, is going to require a good deal of reverse culture-shock training, I think. As of right now, though, I'm trying desperately to hang in there and take Moroccan life as it comes. New director, unplanned days off, and all.
It's official: Mr Lemallem will be the new director. The announcement came the day of the week when I'm not on campus, so I'm pleased that the students were so actively mentioning it in the social sphere. It's still difficult for me to understand when news breaks at the school -- my Derija isn't exactly improving and folks here are so bi- and tri-lingual that they forget that not all can understand.
Unlike American university searches for Presidents and Heads, nothing about this process was transparent for me, as a teacher from the outside. Suffice it to say, I'm very much hoping to meet the new director at some point before the end of the year. I tend not to be notified about faculty meetings, so this might be more difficult than it would seem.
On a related front, we'll be receiving two days of vacation for the Prophet's birthday next week. Other Muslim countries will celebrate on Monday and Tuesday, but Morocco started the month a day later, and will have the holiday on Tuesday (with our second day off on Wednesday). Students want to make a long weekend of it and not come in on Monday, and no one can really blame them. Instructors are in a very undesirable position, though, of trying to guess whether it's worth having class, or better to reschedule ahead of time. In one of my Monday classes, my students and I opted to reschedule. In the other class, it's still unclear whether we'll have class on Monday, five days from now.
I must say that one of the draws of coming to Morocco was the knowledge that I would be forced to (re-)learn to "go with the flow". It's just not worth developing high blood pressure over what are, to me, last-minute changes, and ones that are not communicated to the instrutors. Returning to the North American way of things, in a few months, is going to require a good deal of reverse culture-shock training, I think. As of right now, though, I'm trying desperately to hang in there and take Moroccan life as it comes. New director, unplanned days off, and all.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Savoir-faire v. savoir
I've run into the argument often enough with teaching cataloging: how much savoir-faire or know-how needs to be part of the cataloging curriculum (so that students know how to catalog when they finish) v. how much knowlege needs to be presented, so that students have a broad understanding of the past, present, and future of the field.
Practitioners say that savoir-faire should be taught; academics say theory should be the emphasis. This is roughly the distinction between extended practical training that one would get in a workshop and theoretical approaches one expects to find in a university setting.
LIS in North America is in a strange position. The professional degree for librarians is a university masters, requiring that programs integrate both savoir-faire and savoir into the curriculum. For most professional positions in the US/Canada culture, it's expected that candidates will have university credentials anyway, and that continuing education for acquiring new skills is part of just about any professional field.
Recently, I've been struck by the fact that library school in Morocco emphasizes the kind of training I expect to find in N. American trade schools.
ESI is indeed a "School" and not part of a university. Students are in classes more hours per day than high school students in the United States, and they are told just about everything they need to know by their instructors. Perhaps this is a product of the emphaisis on documentalism in Morocco. But what if librarianship requires more theory, and it's just not part of the program?
The interesting thing would be to understand how the choice of education style impacts the field as a whole, librarianship in particular, in Morocco. Apparently "informatists" don't stay too long in their positions before they move up in the ranks at their place of employment. New graduates are brought in to take their places. The second question, then, would be: How does the coming-and-going of information professionals impact the information landscape in Morocco: if there are few who have a robust understanding of the field and who are in professional positions, then how can the large-scale advocacy of libraries be expected?
Practitioners say that savoir-faire should be taught; academics say theory should be the emphasis. This is roughly the distinction between extended practical training that one would get in a workshop and theoretical approaches one expects to find in a university setting.
LIS in North America is in a strange position. The professional degree for librarians is a university masters, requiring that programs integrate both savoir-faire and savoir into the curriculum. For most professional positions in the US/Canada culture, it's expected that candidates will have university credentials anyway, and that continuing education for acquiring new skills is part of just about any professional field.
Recently, I've been struck by the fact that library school in Morocco emphasizes the kind of training I expect to find in N. American trade schools.
ESI is indeed a "School" and not part of a university. Students are in classes more hours per day than high school students in the United States, and they are told just about everything they need to know by their instructors. Perhaps this is a product of the emphaisis on documentalism in Morocco. But what if librarianship requires more theory, and it's just not part of the program?
The interesting thing would be to understand how the choice of education style impacts the field as a whole, librarianship in particular, in Morocco. Apparently "informatists" don't stay too long in their positions before they move up in the ranks at their place of employment. New graduates are brought in to take their places. The second question, then, would be: How does the coming-and-going of information professionals impact the information landscape in Morocco: if there are few who have a robust understanding of the field and who are in professional positions, then how can the large-scale advocacy of libraries be expected?
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