Empowerment: The Hot Dog of Development Work

My situation here in Morocco bleeds political verbiage: developing nation, poverty, infrastructure, women’s rights, illiteracy, theocratic government, unemployment, globalization, empowerment….blah blah blah.

There’s a strange dynamic at play here. All of these things are in front of my face, living next door, lining the streets– for sure. But slappin’ western labels on them (which are custom-made for re-election speeches, not field work) often limits them. And by that, I mean that they don’t do the complexity of the situation justice.

Take women’s empowerment, for example.

It’s a fancy word that us white people loooovvveeeee to use as the unilateral subtitle for all of our interactions with “the native women.” Teaching illiteracy classes, assisting working women with product development, putting women in leadership positions…we classify all of this under the neat and tidy label of “empowerment.” And sure, these can be and often are positive changes in women’s lives. But is seeking empowerment why women attend these classes and workshops and take advantage of these opportunities? Is that why women seek to make their lives better, or is it a by-product of a different motivation?

After 1.5 years I should probably have more answers than questions, but when is that ever really the case? This is where Ola comes in.

I got an email a few weeks ago from Lauren, head of Peace Corps Morocco’s Gender and Development committee. It had been forwarded a few times through various Peace Corps channels and ended up in my inbox. Ola, a student from UPenn, had received a research grant to study women’s empowerment through income-generating activities in Morocco. Lauren though that I might be of assistance because of my work with Creation Tameslouht. Cool, I thought, I can introduce her to the artisans, have a nice afternoon, maybe she’ll buy something.

The idea went out of my head (all I can think about these days is how flipping hot it already isssss. Oh, yes, and the cliff bar my sitemate’s aunt gave me.) until Ola called me the Friday that she arrived in Morocco. After talking a bit, it became evident that Ola was looking not just to speak to my artisans, but to any other groups of women that I knew. After initially blanking, it dawned on me that my collective time here in Morocco might actually prove useful– just through word of mouth and my own personal network, we ended up brainstorming quite a busy schedule for her 4ish days in the Marrakech region.

Day 1? Meet the women of Creation Tameslouht, of course!

Ola ended up spending several hours chatting with just 6 of the artisans. Her questions ranged from basic familial inquiries (how many kids do you have, are you married?) to the fire-and-brimstone-inducing ones (do you ask permission before you leave the house?). I was a little wary about how the women might receive her questions; never having asked them myself, I wasn’t sure what was a green light and what was so far away from okay it shouldn’t even be suggested. However, the women seemed to really enjoy the questions and the organic twists and turns that they prompted. Ola’s Palestinian Arabic was well-received and well-understood by the women. They ended up having lively discussions about the role of the association in their lives within the larger framework of what exactly it’s like being a woman in Morocco right now. The conversation was ended, as it should be, by tea, msimin, and olives.

The next day, we headed out to Amizmiz. Ola had a book of cooperatives and associations that listed ample findings in this little mountain town….and most of them ended up not existing, not being located in Amizmiz, or angry that she would dare try and ask them questions about their associations (welcome to our lives, Ola!). So, onward to square 1! We met up with Peter and Britt, the brand-new PCVs in Amizmiz. They ended up not only being lovely hosts, but also super resourceful– they knew where their host brother’s friends hang out, two of whom ended up volunteering to personally walk us to the two associations from the book that they had heard of. Awesome! First up….honey.

Several phone conversations with the guy in charge of this cooperative proved…confusing. When I repeatedly asked where we could find his business in relation to the bus stop, he elaborately described the sign outside of his shop. I caught something about a bee (at this point, I didn’t realize we were looking for a honey cooperative. In hindsight, it makes a lot more sense). It took our two volunteer high school guides to get the guy to trust us and talk a bit about his cooperative, which employs several women. No samples available for tasting, but he did point us in the direction of another women’s cooperative in town– well, okay, to be more accurate, way outside of town and through several wheat fields.

We traversed through the rustic painting-of-a-landscape, eventually being directed to a particular house in the neighborhood. We had been warned about the difficulties of just walking around, looking for cooperatives, as many of them don’t have buildings– most simply exist in theory and on paper, while the association members do work and conduct meetings within their respective houses. Somehow, we landed in the lap of the president, and she was able to rally several women over to the house for interviews. We got tea, water (!), and Britt even got connected to a group of women interested in learning English. We were able to make it out of Amizmiz (through the wheat fields again!) just in time to catch the bus back to Tameslouht.

A 3pm appointment awaited us. The new, swanky women’s center had two classes Ola was interested in talking to– one for Arabic literacy, one for sewing. After a very Moroccan snack of bread and vache quirit (which we all know is my diet staple), Ola and I sat with the women in the sewing class. They spent time telling Ola about mobility issues, saying how hard it is for them to go where they want if there is a male head of the house. Ola pointed out to me later that it was interesting to note that only those whose fathers/ brothers/ male heads of the household had gotten sick or died (morbid) felt a sense of freedom and mobility. Most of the older women were able to reflect on their decisions for self-betterment, such as joining sewing classes, as empowering, but we agreed that it seemed like more of an afterthought than a conscious part of the decision-making equation.

Tuesday morning was Lalla Takerkoust. Some friends in Tameslouht had been there recently and told me about a brand-new association for women dedicated to cheese-making. Seeing as how all things related to food stick out in my head, I recommended we check out this place. Ola and I set off in the morning and had an interesting time navigating  the Berber dialects prominent in this area. Assya, our Berber-to-Darija translator, did teach me how to write my name in the Berber alphabet (I am disappointed to report that it is comprised of four circles of varying sizes, one of which resembles a boob). We got to taste the spoils of war while Ola interviewed, dining on fresh bread, tea, and korchlet (Moroccan cookies). One of my favorite interviewees was an older woman, probably in her 70s. When Ola asked her “Kif 7alk” (the Palestinian way of asking “how are you”), the woman heard “seer f7alk”, which essentially means “get away from me” in Darija. Definitely started off on the right foot, and only got funnier as the woman told Ola that no, she wasn’t married, and did these questions mean that Ola was going to find her a husband? Because she would like one young and preferably rich. Some things, no matter what language they’re communicated in, always translate.

What was intriguing about these women, particularly the president, was that they didn’t actually receive money for the association. Sure, the members get a bit for their efforts, but Naima doesn’t get anything financially out of running the show. Several of them, including the feisty 70ish year old who wanted a younger man, said that if they were married, they probably wouldn’t participate in this association. Why? Because they would need to tend to the house, children…and that their husbands probably wouldn’t approve. Assya, young, beautiful, and unmarried, said that even though she didn’t make any money, her alternative is staying at the house and twiddling her thumbs. She said she has nothing to lose by coming, so she does. Not exactly the quote that any development association likes to print next to the pictures of “empowered women,” but it seemed to be an underlying trend in a lot of the women’s decisions to be active in their respective ways.

In the afternoon, we returned to the women’s center in Tameslouht. I ended up leaving to go help my new sitemate with her housing contract…when I got back, Ola was surrounded by a group of women (who had definitely forgotten the whole “sewing” part of their sewing class), some of whom were standing up, yelling at each other. Ola looked calm, cool, and collected, so I assumed it was nothing to worry about. It turns out that one of the women Ola interviewed had a difference of opinion with a more conservative member of the sewing class. They clashed over how women should be spending their free time, whose fault it is that women don’t finish their schooling, and the Quranic interpretation of the hijab (headscarf) vs. the niqab (fabric that covers everything under the eyes)– all manifestations of female mobility in Morocco. Another interesting dimension added to our growing understanding of the “situation” of women and how it relates to that ever-elusive (and continually confirmed to be completely Western) concept of “empowerment.”

Afterwards, we left for M’Hamid, a neighborhood in Marrakech where the Rabeea, sister of Zainab (president of Creation Tameslouht) lives. Rabeea works with a lot of women artisans in this area, although they are association-less. Most of them work because they have to– one, for example, is the second wife of an older man. His first wife and their son are both mentally challenged, and the husband is currently sick. This second wife, therefore, is solely responsible for providing for all of them.

This story seemed to capture the sentiment of most women we met (albeit without the heart-wrenching narrative). The majority of women seem to enter into the workforce not because they are seeking to be empowered, necessarily, but rather out of necessity. Husbands or sons can’t provide for the family, or income needs to be supplemented. There are a few who work for enjoyment, or to pass the time, but most seem to work because they absolutely need to. Whatever the reason, though, they produced gorgeous work, including one of the most unique and chic scarves I’ve come across thus far in Morocco:

Wednesday morning, Ola and I met up with Melissa, an American working at the Center for Language & Culture in Marrakech. We met a few months ago because her students helped us out with the interfaith dialogue project in March. Melissa has recently been involved with the opening of Amal, a Moroccan restaurant located in the heart of Marrakech. According to their Facebook page…

The goal of this nonprofit is to improve the quality of life for disadvantaged women by giving them the tools they need to start supporting themselves, in terms of kitchen skills and literacy training.

What a fantastic initiative, right? And what delicious food! Obviously, part of Ola’s research needed to be whether or not the food that they were making was of any quality, so Melissa,  her man friend, Ola, and I all enjoyed a massive chicken tajine, salads, and desert before interviewing the women who worked there.

Ola said there was an interesting contrast between the more rural women we’d been talking to and these Marrakchian women. In the city, it seems more acceptable to be working and getting home late at night– that’s just what you have to do.

We ended our Marrakech run by meeting up with the High Atlas Foundation, a non-profit started in 2009 by Peace Corps Volunteers. They’re particularly close to my heart because my language and cultural facilitator from training, Malika, is currently employed there and loves her work. They are involved in all sorts of development projects, including those led by women and those which benefit women, so they served as a great resource for Ola as she plans out her second week of Morocco.

What a great experience. I was telling several other PCVs that this week was fun because we engaged in a lot of conversations that don’t arise organically. Concepts like “women’s empowerment” and where it fits into the spectrum of Moroccan life are often things that we have to piece together over the course of thousands of interactions. It’s something that I’ve thought a lot about as well, mostly as a result of my work with women artisans– and something that I’ve been tentative about asking too many questions about. Why? I guess I feel a bit like the “Ugly American,” whether directly comparing or just perceived as trying to draw parallels between the women here and my own experience as a female. Well, in America I can wear shorts and hang out with guys I’m not related to and still not be considered a prostitute, even with a drink in my hand! Precisely what the suffragettes strove for me to be able to do with my quality, right? Either way, I know that my equality and freedom is in the context of a specific time and place, as is theirs– and I’m never sure just how much good it would do for me, as a white American Catholic who is only living here for two years, to be the one to try to incite a revolution through my poking and prodding. I think Peace Corps frowns upon that. I think it would be eternally more powerful, meaningful, and effective if Moroccan women were the ones to lead that charge. Until then, I think I’ll continue to support “empowering” activities for women– because, at the end of the day, sometimes the by-product of an experience can be just as positive of a teacher as the intention. Kinda like the hot dog of development work. Kinda.