Ashnu katdiri? (“What do you do?”)

I’ve been living in B-town for a month or so, and no, I haven’t met all 40,000 townspeople yet. Most people in my neighborhood, my chocolate-fix guy, the students I teach English to, the girls who meet to sew together every afternoon, the traditional handicrafts center “staff,” my clothing store friend and her family circle, and a few random other people know me. A lot of kids know my American and Moroccan names, which they love to shout repeatedly as soon as I walk past them. Some kids are confused and think my name is “Chinois” (bad joke). But how well do they, including my host family, know me?

I’m unmarried (and almost pass the market’s desirable marriage age), speak the local language as well as the unborn babies I don’t have (but should have by my age), offend people by not eating enough (and I can wolf a Chipotle burrito easily), dress like a pre-teen boy or girl, and can’t name 5 Tony Braxton/Celine Dion/Bryan Adams songs. I may or may not be Chinese, but I have a pretty face and pretty hair. One day, my hair will be long and then I will be prettier. I’m unfortunate because my family is not with me and so I’m all alone. Fortunately, I speak English and will go back to America, if anyone wants a free visa. This all makes people either avoid me like H1N1 or gravitate towards me. I wish that this wasn’t the first impression most B-townians have of me, but most give me a 2nd chance and ask, what do I do here in B-town?.

Such a complicated little question. Technically, I work with an American organization that sends volunteers abroad for cultural exchange and to provide technical assistance. On paper, I’ve been assigned to collaborate as a small business development agent with the Ministry of Artisanat and Tourism: I’m to focus on the traditional handicrafts sector. With this ministry’s handicrafts center and a local development association, I’ve sat and sat and understood only bits of the conversations. I assume they must not sit when I’m not there. The volunteer before me introduced me to the girls she taught introductory screen-printing classes to, and I sat with them as well. I’ve met other people interested in starting a business making/selling handicrafts, and they want to consult with me. I helped plan a vigil for climate change awareness. I introduced American card games to kids. I help students with their English and French homework, and I teach English at another association (BUT I don’t want to be known as “the English teacher”). I can’t make a proper Moroccan tea, but my host family likes my delicious “American-esque” meals. I sit in hanuts, sometimes acting like a sales assistant. I spent a week in bed sick. Four times a week, I watch a Mexican soap opera translated into the local language to “study.” I carry my notebook everywhere else. I go on walks with no destination, just to see a new part of town (my host sister cannot fathom why I’d do so). So what do I do?

3llaHsab means “it depends.” My answer to the 2nd question changes depending on so many factors: how patient is the person, how well do I know him/her, what kind of vibe I get, where am I, what time is it, how hungry am I, what’s the question’s motive, what was I in the process of…Even friends and family back home ask me what am I doing here. I’m sorry whatever answer I give never fully encompasses what I do. Even this blog—if a photo’s worth a thousand words, my blog’s really worth a million unwritten words (does that even make sense?). I’m busy doing, and I’m enjoying it. Or I don’t, and I do something else.