Realities that hurt

Statistics published by the United Nations have revealed that illiteracy among women in Morocco who are not less than 15 years old is at 64 percent, in Algeria 43 percent and in Tunisia at 39 percent. As for illiteracy among men, it is as follows Morocco 38 percent Algeria 24 percent and Tunisia 19 percent.
All in all, in the Middle East and North Africa, there are 75 million illiterates, and the fast increase in their populations causes a corresponding increase in illiteracy, poverty, ignorance, and backwardness.
Source: www.albawaba.com

Red and green

Today, I saw what a real graduation was. Not that the one we had at the J-school was not good. On the contrary. It's just that for undergrads, dimensions are much bigger, especially at UCLA. I thought it was very touching and the organization was almost perfect. I was amused to see two faculty members singing for the audience. The ceremony was long and the families impatient. Emotion was palpable everywhere, in the smiles of the Bachelors, their parents' pride and the thousands of pictures taken everywhere. UCLA's campus is beautiful, especially when it's sunny. A lot if girlies in Dior accessories at the Anderson school but one unique thing: a Moroccan flag.

Blague à part

Quand le bébé est arrivé, il était heureux. Heureux comme personne. En plus, c'était un garçon. Puis, avec les nuits blanches, les pleurs, les biberons, il a aimé beaucoup moins être papa. Et avec sa cellulite, ses cernes et ses cheveux, il a aimé beaucoup moins être mari.
Maintenant, le petit garçon a grandi, mais son papa s'enferme à double-tour dans sa chambre à coucher et écrit dans un blog les aventures qu'il aimerait vivre sur l'homme qu'il aurait aimé être.

Doughnuts craving

Si tu étais là, on aurait marché...Jusqu'à la voiture.

Inside

Quelle couche du noir veux-tu voir?

La métamorphose

Et pourquoi je me casserais le c** à faire le boulot correctement, rester le dernier au boulot, de me griller en même temps que mes clopes, de m'énerver à ré-expliquer des évidences à ces imbéciles de collègues? Après tout, on n'est qu'au Maroc.
Et le lendemain, au réveil, il était fonctionnaire.

Gnaoua mood

Des murs jaunes; des marches colorées de mosaïque et; en haut, une petite terrasse. On traverse la terrasse aux transats vides et vue sur une ruelle de la médina. Une porte, au fond. Une porte verte en fer. "Chambre pour trois", sourit l'hôtellier moustachu.
Et puis, rien. Que des sourires, des regards et des promenades dans le vent. Les vagues, les Alizés, la musique en fond toute la journée, toute la nuit, les after dans les riads assis sur les tapis, avec des dizaines d'étrangers juste contents d'être là et se passant la Siniya de thé.
Dans la petite boutique "au petit bonheur la chance", je trouve le pendentif que j'ai toujours voulu. Il est resté pendu à mon cou pendant plus d'une année. Puis, un jour, il a disparu avec mes souvenirs.

Insomnia

I wish I could stop thinking.

J- 7

In exactly one week, I'll be home. The notion of home is arguable, I agree, but still. I can't wait to see my dad's face among people waiting at the airport. My mom will already be in the US. Her being here will take away half of the happiness to be in Morocco (and 99% of the good food I was fantasizing on). Of course, I have a lits of things I HAVE to do, people I HAVE to see but, often, I surrender to only seeing people I WANT to see and doing things I WANT to do.
I'm excited to work although I don't know yet how, why, when and who with.
I have this bittersweet feeling. And I hate it. I wish I was more simple.

Source: Postsecret.blogspot.com

Soldiers

Et je me souviens de cette affiche un peu partout en Californie, montrant Arnold "he wheels and he deals" puis une infirmière "she heals". Je n'ai jamais eu autant de respect pour les infirmières que depuis que je passe mes journées à l'hôpital. C'est fou. Quelle gentillesse, quelle amabilité, quelle présence. Un sens de la communication et du réconfort que nos meilleurs médecins n'ont jamais eu. Une efficacité qui m'a laissée béate. Et ces sourires, mon Dieu...
Bref, j'ai dépassé ma phobie des hôpitaux au Scripps Memorial.
Et je ne parle même pas de ces volontaires, de 17 à 92 ans, qui passent leurs journées à tricoter des bonnets, à faire de la lecture, marcher avec des patients...
Et last but not least, tous les dons que reçoit l'hôpital, de millionnaires mais aussi de gens aisés qui partagent, financent, soutiennent.
"De vrais anges", dixit Tant Nadia ".

Home bitter Home

I have to admit it: I miss the Bay Area. I think about it, all the time. I don't know what exactly: my studio, the J-School or some special people. Maybe a little bit of all.
The more I go, the less I miss home. This is very dangerous, it never happened. One thing keeps me obssessed by Morocco: blogs and people's lives back home and, of course, news.
I imagine myself in Casa, or Marrakech. I close my eyes, I think of my friends, then I remember Rabat, the boredom, some other things I don't wanna talk about. I open my eyes. I'm scared of next year.

Auntie Najlae

Adam added his crying symphony to the cacophony of this world on June 1st, 2005 at 3:32 pm.
I held him in my arms today with so much emotion and a lot of love.

Stairway to heaven

I'm watching Traffic. I love Soderbergh's movies but I find this one so well-made, so well thought. I can't help thinking about Morocco. Drugs, like coke and ecstasy, have more and more fans. I talked yesterday for a moment with somebody who spent quite some time immersed in an environment he was never supposed to know. I mean, in Morocco, families are quite careful about where the kids go and who with. Obviously, the "busy parents" or "cool parents" side is taking over. The guy, let's call him Amine, saw kids of 15 years old sniffing coke, buying grams for 1000 dh (100 bucks) and diving into a new trip. According to him, we're not only talking about kids going to French or American schools but also public schools.
What's wrong?
I've seen haschisch all my life, everywhere, but I've never been even tempted to try. Education you say? Well, even if I had been tempted, it's candy compared to ecstasy or coke.
Kids are bored. Kids are lost. Parents are worse.
How can a 15 years old regularly get a hundred bucks to buy drugs? Do parents realize? The guy, who recovered from a bad, bad trip, said dealers started to sell half-grams for 50 bucks to make the merchandise accessible to all. In Traffic, the anti-drug leader discovers that his own daughter is an addict. Depressing. Awakening.

Blog.ma & Blog.com

It's almost 2 a.m and it's been maybe 5 hours that I'm just reading blogs of Moroccans in Morocco, Moroccans abroad and foreigners-mostly Americans- in Morocco. I love these blogs. You know, just like small windows in people's minds and hearts. I am fascinated by the eloquence of those young Moroccans, their crazy ideas, their irreverent sense of humor, their will to bring some change in that land.
On the other hand, I am amazed by the foreigner's experiences. I admire the Peace Corps volunteers, for deciding to go to this exotic weird country, just like that, to help, to see, to live something different. But most of the time, they have more than a moderate dose of exotism! They end up in some obscure villages in some unknown places. They live the modest lives of modest people and just try to adapt to the endless bizarre situations and social "things" (don't know how to call that).
Of course, if they were staying in Casablanca, Rabat or Marrakesh, things would have been different. But somewhere, I envy them...

My pride

www.cnstv.org
It's been a great year, quality work, team spirit. The February 8th show was definitely my favorite. I enjoyed being a producer, a reporter and an editor. Looking forward to next year, same great crew, different stories.

Friedman and the truffles

Thomas Friedman and Maureen Dowd from the Times came to my school. They were both on a conversation with Cynthia Gorney and Mark Danner, it was really interesting. Although I have my opinions about Friedman and I certainly don't agree with his positions, I think he's smart and has good taste for Italian shoes. I have a smile on my face when I recall the days when I used to read him on Asharq Al Awsat, and I still do sometimes. It intrigues me how this guy has three Pullitzer prizes. But that's another story...
As for Maureen, she's really hot, I understand any source in D.C. would be more than happy to give her information for her column. She has this sarcasm that I particularly like. Her speech for our graduation party yesterday was well-written but she hits too much on W. Mistake: on ne prêche pas des convaincus; surtout à Berkeley...
Both talked a lot about journalism, ethics, careers, etc. Made me think about my own choices.
Nothing's wrong with all I am taught here, although it's a little bit obvious. The only thing is: how do I see myself using this in the future? When I see Aarchane and how he behaved with Driss, I just realize that good journalism is like truffles...for dunkies.

Cheesecake factory, Union Square, SF

Hamdulillah

Jehan, finally this prelim is behind you. I'm proud of you, doctoura. Much love.

Blood connection

So, today, we have an open house at the J-School. A lot of relatives, proud parents, happy girlfriends and boyfriends and..great food, hehe. It made me think that it's really the end of the 2nd years' school life. It made me sad. I am also very sensitive to the family stuff: parents looking at projects, listening to radio reports, admiring some pictures. There was some great work, amazing, really.
"So, yes, this is what I'm doing after all the money you spent to raise me"
OR
"This is why I'm taking all this loans"
OR
"Every single word I wrote is gratitude to you"
OR
"Wherever you like it or not, it's me, in my excellence and mediocrity"

Many left careers in business or in engineering for this job. Nobody can tell if it was worth it.

I remembered one of my friends, a reporter from Morocco, who told me: "my mother has never been to school, she can't read me but she puts my stories under her pillow and sleeps".

Tomorrow, at the real graduation, I will cry.

The untrustworthy

I'm so ashamed of myself, I don't know what to say but that I'm really, really sorry.

Fiesta time!

Fiestaaaaaaa!!! At the same time, dozens of J-schoolers prepare themselves for Gosia and Michael's party! The last with the 2nd years....
Weiiiird. Saaad. I hope people will have fun without too much damage (you know what 'm talking about). I'm looking forward to some party self-forgetness :-) ( najlae,where do you come up with these words?). Report about the partiii just after (if I can keep my eyes open coz I'm REALLY sleepy).

The show must go on

Last Tv class :( with all of us together. The 20 television musketeers will be divided next year between doc and Tv. I can't help it, it makes me sad. We had this great team work, I have to say and our shows were really fantastic and creative.
(Big sigh)
For our last class, we have these 3 guests, brilliant producers for Discovery Times Channel (Discovery Channel + New-York Times). One is really, really annoying. Maybe his mom didn't show him enough affection. Or the opposite. God, when are we gonna have real models?

Soon, my nephew will come (almost) the same way.. 

Emily's little one

So, tomorrow, I would like to shoot a short film in honor of Emily Taguchi and her baby-to-come. I love Emily. I love Japan and I love Japanese people. Emily has the grace. She has the heart. And I admit I'm often stupid with her, saying silly things and behaving like a baby. Anyway...So I hope she will like the idea, she said she wanted something creative and no gifts. So, I'm thinking about people of the school talking about her, about the fact of having a baby, I'm also thinking about music that could go...And images, of light blue and pink. I'm so happy for her. We'll see how that can be said in images.