On Friday night, it was henna-time! It took 2 hours to put the henna on my feet and hands and another hour to set the dye. Of course, I wasn’t to touch to anything so my host sisters had to feed me and help me into bed (no brushing of teeth or washing of face…remember, what personal hygiene). They literally laid me in bed and positioned my body in a very uncomfortable position. No pain, no gain, right?
After not much sleep, I woke up at 7:30 for the big family breakfast. The big dish served was basmati rice! It was very exciting to see this. I was really looking forward to eating a large portion of this new food until my host sister poured hot grease over it. I kept thinking, “They are ruining the rice. They are ruining the rice.” Why this is considered a delicacy, I have no idea. For me, it is right up there with the lamb fat. I carved myself a little portion of the rice without the grease and drank multiple glasses of coffee. The coffee here is not served in large mugs like in the states; they use shot glasses. In the states, I drink massive amounts of black coffee but here, I only have 3 to 4 glasses of café au lait in the evening only. Well on Saturday, I drink almost 2 pots of coffee. My family laughed at how much I was drinking and while I laughed along with them, I wondered what they would think of my daily fair trade, shade-grown venti coffees from Starbucks every day back in the states. If I even tried to explain it, they wouldn’t believe me.
My host family got all dressed up and the men went all went to a large clearing on a hill in the village to a prayer ritual to mark l-3id. My host sisters and I went to all the houses in our area to visit with the women. Greetings are huge here. Every time you talk to someone, you start with “Salaam” then ask how some one is, 4 different ways. No matter how many times they ask me in one conversation, the answer is the same. It definitely wears on my patience to say the same thing over and over. On l-3id though, they add another line, “Mbrouk l-3id.” It mean happy or congratulations; very similar to our Happy Thanksgiving or Merry Christmas. When the men finished, the women lined up in receiving lines at their houses for the men to greet them. I felt strange but also very appreciative to watch and be apart of such an important tradition.
My host sisters prepared an elaborate lunch and invited my LCF to join us. I am glad they did because he translated for me. I was finally able to ask my family questions and know what their responses were. It helped me learn and understand a lot more about my host family. Chris, the American who lived next door to me, joined us for lunch and afterwards, he and I managed to go for a walk without little kids following us. Kids follow us Americans everywhere; most of the time, we love it but there are times when we just want to walk and talk alone and reflect on life here and how it is so much different from life in the States (or at least, this is what I want to do). Chris and I went to every Americans’ house only to be told they were at another house. We felt left out (Did we not get the memo?) but proceeded on the Lindsey’s house to play with her family’s 4 year old triplets. Contrary to what we were told, Lindsey was at home so we got to see each other dressed up instead of the usual “I haven’t showered in 3 days and have changed my clothes in 2 days” look.
The 3 of us along with bundles of kids this time continued the previous walk and eventually ran into Maggy. Of course every house we went to, we had to have tea and cookies. I surpassed my previous total of glasses of tea by far on Saturday. Chris’ host father joined us and led us to a different part of the village that I had never been to before. We walked through fields and pretty houses to what had to be the nicest house in all of the village. The walls were tile, the rugs were gorgeous, the ceilings painted, and furnishings that included a washing machine and the big one, a Western toilet. I was just in awe. After more tea and cookies, it was dark and time to go home. L-3id was now over and time for sleep so a new day could begin.
Side note: When I left for Peace Corps and Morocco, I somehow had this notion that life that in States would just somehow stop moving while I was here. I wouldn’t miss birthdays, holidays, and other important events. Lots of other volunteers had this same notion but it has quickly come crashing down on us. One of my Ouarzazate roommates lost a friend 2 weeks ago and this past weekend, I lost a friend that I have known since preschool. It is hard being here and not with family and friends during these moments. I want to be there to comfort and share the time with me friends but at the same time though, it helps to remind me why I am here.
Pictures:
My feet with the henna dye
Me with one of the triplets!
Me with my henna!
Our house!
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