War Zone

Moulay Ismail University is located in the Zitoun neighborhood of Meknes. It is approximately a 50 minute walk from Hamriyya, where I live. The University is inside of one of the old walls left over from hundreds of years ago when walls were still a necessary line of defense for all cities. I study in the Fac du Lettres part of the University, otherwise known as the liberal arts section.

Inside the wall of the school, several buildings are linked together with a covered walkway that protects students from the sun and the rain. The buildings are simple, and the classrooms are too. We American students have all of our classrooms on the top floor of one of the buildings, and enjoy such luxuries as air conditioning and freshly painted rooms. Previous students must have complained that the heat of the classrooms interfered with their ability to study.

Every day of class presents a sort of battle. Most of our teachers speak at least fluent French and Arabic. Many are Berber, so they speak the Berber language as well. English, on the other hand, still presents many with at least some degree of difficulty, which is by all means understandable. However, even though it is easy to respect them for how much they do know of English, it is easy to get frustrated when they don't understand a question. Often we find ourselves asking what homework is due, only to get an answer totally unrelated. "Alif can be a consonant or a vowel. But the rules are not important now, we will turn back." Usually, we resign ourselves to the nonanswer answer that we were given, but occasionally, we find ourselves playing tag team trying to explain the question that we have. "Is unit 2 the only homework due Friday?" Response: "We have finished Unit 2 and Unit 3. You can give me Unit 2 today or tomorrow. Whenever you have finished." And the more we try to clarify, the more frustrated everyone, including the professor, becomes.

In French it is much the same. The teacher asks us to translate French text. "Isn't it," he questions after we have given the translation, "to meet an accident?" And, despite our best efforts to explain that in English it is more appropriate to say "have an accident", the professor lets it go only grudgingly, saying under his breath "I saw 'meet an accident' in the dictionary." French is better for me since I have had several classes before and therefore can understand when the teacher speaks solely in French. The beginning French students, however, are having a much more difficult time, as they do not understand their professor who speaks 80% of the time in French.

To add to the general confusion in the classroom, a Moroccan Air Force base is situated just across the street from the school. We are convinced that the favorite game of the pilots is to see how close they can fly their F16's to the University's buildings without actually running into them. The buildings shake, and our ears beg for mercy as the jet engine rumbles above us. Class is put on hold until the thunder of the engine fades into the distance. Without fail, my heart leaps into my throat every time. It is very unsettling to hear the roar of a fighter jet so close to oneself.

Classes meet for usually about 3 hours per session, which is an extremely long time to sit for one class even if one is completely interested in the topic. Thankfully, there is always a coffee break in the middle of the time. There are two cafes on campus, the students' cafe and the professors' cafe. The professors' cafe is directly below our classrooms, and conveniently international students are allowed to use that one. We usually shuffle down there and lounge on the couches and chairs while sipping some coffee or tea.

In the smaller classes, the professors always ask if they can give us a ride back to Hamriyya, and we happily accept their kind offer. The rides home also provide an excellent opportunity to practice our language skills and learn more about Morocco and the lives of our Professors.

Yes, school has settled into a sort of routine, a comfortable routine that I've grown very fond of, despite school being a sort of battlefield.