The day before me presenting a workshop on creativity at the Marrakech American Corner (MAC) at the Cadi Ayyad University in Marrakech, I wrote an almost-breakup letter to Morocco.
I was frustrated with several things, but mostly, I was just bored. My PCV friends are all leaving Morocco in a matter of days, I was on the third day of little to no phone reception, the internet line got cut (question mark), I finished applying for graduate school (no more personal statement to revise again), the dar chabab waas closed for the foreseeable future, all of the artisans were off working on their orders, the kids were all out for the holidays, all of my books were read at least once…what is there left to do?
I won’t get into the particularities of the letter (not my finest literary work), but upon a moment of self-reflection, I couldn’t believe how incredibly hypocritical I was being. In less than 24 hours, I was supposed to be teaching others how to think creatively– and here I am, cursing this country because it’s not entertaining me? Trust me, the irony was not lost. It was time, in the immortal words of Lucia, to pull my head out of my ass.
How did I even get invited to present on this topic?
About 8-ish months into my service, an email circulated on our PC listserv for volunteers in the Marrakech area who would be interested in speaking at a diversity panel in Marrakech. Vague, sure, but I’m a volunteer in the Marrakech area and had a free afternoon, so bam– I was there. It turns out the diversity panel was held at Cadi Ayyad University, a state university in Marrakech, and it was part of a long-standing relationship between the American Embassy and the university. Cool! I can’t remember what I spoke about (I think I may have claimed my Catholicism to make me diverse? Perhaps being an educated woman from the south? So many diverse aspects to this personality!), but I made a really valuable connection that day: Dar America.
Dar America Casablanca is home to the U.S. Consulate General’s Public Affairs Section and the American Library. (Stole that from their FB page.) They helped us out with our Interfaith Dialogue, a recent business skills workshop, and with locating Indian food in Casablanca. All very important contributions to Tameslouht, my PC service, and my belly. Anyways, they emailed me recently to ask if I would be interested in leading a workshop on creativity at the MAC. Um, hello one experience I might just be qualified to do while I’m in Morocco!
Well, that was my initial thought, at least. Then I realized– how the heck does one approach this topic? Especially in an articulate way that others might actually benefit from? There’s the rub, my friends. So I sat on the idea and did a lot of “research.” I read re-visited Calvin and Hobbes (and this article about creative integrity), I went back through my contemporary art history class notes (which yes, are all still on my computer) and combed through them for something both ingenious and culturally appropriate (sorry Acconci), searched “creativity” on TED and wound up watching several inspiring (and, unfortunately, not culturally appropriate) talks, and then considered my own life choices. I’ve always labeled myself as creative, but, in light of my almost-breakup letter to Morocco, am I really still worthy of that particular adjective?
Jury’s still out on little miss priss over here, but the workshop happened anyways. Ysterday, Mustapha and I woke up bright and early and found ourselves breakfasting at an on-campus cafe at 8:15am. Mustapha studied English at Cadi Ayyad, so he was my navigator through the maze that is the campus there. We stopped to look at a very humble display of communist literature, and then proceeded to the library.
By 9– the time I was supposed to start my 1.5 hour workshop– everything was set up and ready to go. One problem, though– only about 5 of the 20 anticipated participants had showed up. They asked if we could start 30 minutes late and, in true PCV fashion, I had absolutely no problem with it.
Over 20 students ended up coming. After a quick introduction, we got right into it– what is creativity?
These are pictures of the students doing their first activity. Instead of having me define creativity for them (booorrriiinnnnggg), I asked them to break up into groups and define the word for me. However, each group was limited to one form of communication: the first, drawing; the second, acting (without speaking); the third, singing. They only had 5 (which turned into 6) minutes to plan with their group.
The results were awesome! The drawing group relied a lot on words (which was interesting); the acting group had a very avant garde performance piece involving a circle of people and one person inside bouncing around within the circle; the singing group came up with an a cappella performance to the tune of “Every Step You Take” by Sting. We noted the dictionary definition (“the ability to make new things or think of new ideas”) and discussed how their responses related to it. This inevitably lead into a discussion regarding the challenges of creativity, so we transitioned into David Kelley’s TED talk about building creative confidence:
If you don’t have time to watch his 12 minute speech (which I highly recommend), the summary is this: familiarity conquers fear. For those of us who don’t consider ourselves to be creative, or are afraid to try to be creative, he encourages us to approach it through “guided mastery,” or in slow increments. Very logical, very articulate, and very inspiring.
I then made the students talk about what made them– as students, as Moroccans, as men, as women, as youth– afraid to be creative. We came up with quite a list, ranging from “the government” to “lack of motivation.” Putting that aside, I turned to one of my favorite readings to date from my time in art school: Dave Hickey’s The Heresy of Zone Defense. For those of you who haven’t read it, here’s the part that we focused on as I saw our time rapidly vanishing.
Okay, so first, we had to brush up on some basketball terminology. Ultimately, though, we focused on this: The rules, made by people who couldn’t begin to imagine Erving’s play, made it possible. We talked about how, instead of being afraid of the rules (imposed by culture, the education system, or the government– all things that they listed), they should get creative about working within the rules. A perfect defense by Kareem– or, a very embedded historical tradition in Moroccan society– necessitates an equally perfect and creative response.
We talked about other examples of how working within the rules of civil society can be liberating and inspire creativity, and last, but not least, we discussed how people can approach being creative. Our closing activity was to select on of the reasons that they felt prevented them from being creative, and they had to write 100 ways of responding to that “defense.” Why 100? Well, you get a little more free-thinking when you have to come up with 100 ideas in a short amount of time rather than 5 really solid ideas. The students thought way outside of the box, even quoting Freud (my heart danced a little upon hearing that one). I went way over time, but no one seemed to mind.
Tea and cookies inevitably followed my workshop, so I got a chance to speak with the students. What an incredible group of young minds. Some of them are currently working as English teachers, others have worked for Peace Corps in the past, and every single one of them had something unique and thoughtful to contribute– in perfect English, at that!
Mentally, I crumpled up my almost-breakup letter with Morocco. These students were the breath of fresh air I needed after spending several days cooped up in a salon talking about babies with women. Not that there’s anything wrong about babies– Moroccan offspring are the cutest– but I needed a little mental stimulation outside of the baby topic. And I got it.
After leaving the MAC, a leisurely stroll through Jemaa El Fnaa lead me past a man with a vulture and several pigeons. After an almost-breakup, Morocco was showing me that it was trying again. Or maybe it was trying the whole time and I wasn’t stopping to smell the vultures and the pigeons.
