Saturday was a big day for me…I moved into my house. This is usually one of the big moments of a volunteer’s service. For the past 5 months, I have been living with families and in a hotel. It is really exciting to finally be able to unpack my suitcases. A big part of my job is to integrate into the community. Living with my host family has done a lot to help me with this. My family is amazing; I am excited that I was able to stay in the family compound. As I was moving my stuff, I began to get a little panicky and nervous about being alone. I began to think that maybe I should spend another night with my family.
This past week, someone somehow related to my family died. It took a 30 minute conversation for me to understand who he was and how he was related. The funeral/wake was Saturday night. By the way, funerals are just another reason to entertain here. It was by far, the most interesting wake/funeral I have been too. And coming from a big Southern family, that is saying something. One of the people there was a member of my family that goes to high school in Azrou. We were talking about Timahdite and I told her that I was a little scared about staying the night in my house. She told me that I would be okay and to remember that family was right next door.
After talking with her, some of my confidence began to come back. Walking back to the house, there was a little spring in my step. I made it through the first night and the second and the third… In the interest of full disclosure though, I did shed a few tears when I told my family good night and returned for breakfast on Sunday morning.
While it seems a little odd to me to say that I found confidence at a funeral but then again, something odd/interesting happens to me everyday. This is life in Morocco…
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