Today is my 22nd birthday. While it is weird not to be celebrating it with my family and friends in America, I am excited to be celebrating with my Moroccan family. They are such great people and I love them already.
Until today, I was the same age for all of 2007 and because of this, I feel like I should reflect on the past year but I don’t really want to do that. Where I am now is very different from where I was a year ago. I think this just represents my growth as a human being. I have been in my town for over a month down and have one more month of homestay (lhumdullah) and each day is a different experience. And I wanted to share some of them. So here y’all go:
-How about the time the chicken crossed the road and got hit by a car…no this is not a joke. I tell this to people and they are like “where’s the joke” and I am like it is not a joke. It really happened.
-Saw a 3-legged dog the other day. It was rather interesting-looking.
-Almost got in a fight at the hammam. The hammam is how most people bathe here. I am not very good at explaining what it is so I will paraphrase the guidebook. “The hammam is a steam bath and is a Moroccan version of the spa.” (Rough Guide Morocco) I enjoy going and generally feel clean for a few days after my experience. Most people spend hours and hours there but I can only stay for a max of 2 hours. Besides, most of the women are not used to seeing a white girl so there is a lot of staring.
And just to put it out there because I have been asked this question, I don’t shower often. I usually only go to the hammam when there is enough grease in my hair to fry bacon and/or I am tired of looking like I have a bad hangover. And 2 days ago, I said something that I never thought I would say in my life: “I showered 3 days ago. I am still clean!” Obviously as soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back. Oh well…
-One of the things that I enjoy is when people will talk about me to other people in front of my face. They don’t realize (or don’t care) that I can speak (or attempt to speak) their language. When I say something to them, the expressions on their faces are priceless. But this can also work the other way. On more than one occasion I have said something in English that I would prefer not to be translated. And occasionally, there are people around who have decent English skills. They will look at me; laugh; and I have to do this whole “please do not translate” thing. It is a little embarrassing.
-One of the cultural things that always makes volunteers laugh is the so-called Berber rules for living. We hear them all of the time and most make a lot of sense but some are just off base. You can’t help but laugh. Here is a few:
--The reason you get a cold is because your headscarf is not wrapped tightly enough when leaving the hammam.
--My stomach issues are due to the cold weather not the food.
--The inferno is what is causing you to sneeze.
--Standing in the sun is what caused you to start itching.
-And I will end on this one: Meat is everything here. Because providing a good source of protein, it is a sign of wealth. My family is one of the better off in town and we always have meat. ALWAYS. Well, after Leid and a week’s worth of elaborate meals, I just haven’t been able to eat any more meat. I told my family that my stomach needs a break from all of the meat. So here is what they answered with: “That’s okay. We will make chicken.” It is like that scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Leid Kbir
Friday was officially Leid Kbir but most people celebrated through the weekend, my family included. Preparations for the holiday started weeks ago. My host family killed 2 sheep and 8 in total were killed in the family compound. I am eating so much lamb that I fully expect “baa” to come out the next time I open my mouth.
Some statistics:
Cups of tea (in 3 days): 10…that is a very low number, lhumdullah, and family knows that I prefer coffee to tea so I often get served coffee
Number of Pepto Bismal Taken: 7
Number of new people that I met: I stopped counting at 20
Number of new English-speaking family members I met: 3
I know very little about the meaning of Leid Kbir so I am not going to even mention any of the religious meanings of the holiday. I do know that it is considered the biggest Muslim holiday of the year and people go all out for it. Things were a little crazy but it was very exciting for me to experience the big holiday. I am having a new cultural experience every day, each one different from the last. Some are enjoyable; some are not. That is part of being in Morocco and living with a host family, whom I absolutely love.
Some statistics:
Cups of tea (in 3 days): 10…that is a very low number, lhumdullah, and family knows that I prefer coffee to tea so I often get served coffee
Number of Pepto Bismal Taken: 7
Number of new people that I met: I stopped counting at 20
Number of new English-speaking family members I met: 3
I know very little about the meaning of Leid Kbir so I am not going to even mention any of the religious meanings of the holiday. I do know that it is considered the biggest Muslim holiday of the year and people go all out for it. Things were a little crazy but it was very exciting for me to experience the big holiday. I am having a new cultural experience every day, each one different from the last. Some are enjoyable; some are not. That is part of being in Morocco and living with a host family, whom I absolutely love.
Monday, December 24, 2007
How To Slaughter A Sheep
FYI, THIS ENTRY CONTAINS SOME GRAPHIC AND DISTURBING PICTURES. DON’T EAT BEFORE READING AND DON’T MAKE PLANS TO EAT SOON AFTER.
During Leid Kbir celebrations I got to witness the slaughtering of 3 sheep. Here is how it goes down:
My host dad and brother slicing the sheep’s throat
It laid there for a while, bleeding and…
Twitching.
It’s dead
It’s head is cut off and…
Barbequed to be eaten later.
Holes are then cut below the knee and the sheep is inflated
The sheep is hung and…
Skinned and…
Gutted.
What it looks like before it is chopped into pieces. And yes, this would be our kitchen floor. And yes, I had the same reaction you are probably having right now.
During Leid Kbir celebrations I got to witness the slaughtering of 3 sheep. Here is how it goes down:
My host dad and brother slicing the sheep’s throat
It laid there for a while, bleeding and…
Twitching.
It’s dead
It’s head is cut off and…
Barbequed to be eaten later.
Holes are then cut below the knee and the sheep is inflated
The sheep is hung and…
Skinned and…
Gutted.
What it looks like before it is chopped into pieces. And yes, this would be our kitchen floor. And yes, I had the same reaction you are probably having right now.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Food Smorgasbord
So some of the first questions I am asked by people (both from home and here) concern food. Here is a typical dialogue:
Person: How are you eating?
Me: I am eating very well, thank you. (Trying to use the manners my parents so hammered into me all those years)
Person: What sort of foods does your family eat (and me by extension)?
Me: Lamb, potatoes, chicken, cous cous, soup, eggs, etc.
Person: All in one day?
Me: No, All in ONE MEAL
Person: Holy shit…you must have to eat a lot
Me: Yeah, I am required to eat bzzaf amounts of food.
-Side Note: ‘bzzaf’ means ‘a lot.’ I use it frequently not only because many situations call for it but also because it is a fun word to say. Much more fun to say than 'copious'
When I eat all this food, my body engages in some internal fighting. This is how it plays out:
I wake up everyday wondering what kind of stomach day I am going to have. Not going to lie…it adds a little bit of excitement into my life. My family jokes that I use the bathroom more than Ali, the baby that lives in my house. The sad part is that it’s true. Shiwya b shiwya, I say…
Continuing with the food theme of this entry… I was reading a Conde Nast Traveler magazine that another volunteer passed on to me (lhumdullah for the literary exchange that is in full force here) and came across this line:
“Barbeque is America’s greatest gift to cuisine.” Amen, brotha, amen. What I would do for a barbeque sandwich and some Dreamland ribs right now? Oh man, you have no idea…
And just because I think this deserves to be on the internet for everyone to see…Chris, my environment sitemate, has never been to the South. Well, he ventured across the Mason-Dixon line once to visit some friends in North Carolina but I am not really counting that. Sure he may read this thing but oh well, I have been to his hometown (Seattle) before. Back to the food theme…Chris has never had the pleasure of tasting collards (I guess that is understandable) or boiled peanuts (COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE). So when I find collards at souk and can learn how to make boiled peanuts (got any recipes…send them my way), I can introduce another American to the wonders of Southern food.
Person: How are you eating?
Me: I am eating very well, thank you. (Trying to use the manners my parents so hammered into me all those years)
Person: What sort of foods does your family eat (and me by extension)?
Me: Lamb, potatoes, chicken, cous cous, soup, eggs, etc.
Person: All in one day?
Me: No, All in ONE MEAL
Person: Holy shit…you must have to eat a lot
Me: Yeah, I am required to eat bzzaf amounts of food.
-Side Note: ‘bzzaf’ means ‘a lot.’ I use it frequently not only because many situations call for it but also because it is a fun word to say. Much more fun to say than 'copious'
When I eat all this food, my body engages in some internal fighting. This is how it plays out:
I wake up everyday wondering what kind of stomach day I am going to have. Not going to lie…it adds a little bit of excitement into my life. My family jokes that I use the bathroom more than Ali, the baby that lives in my house. The sad part is that it’s true. Shiwya b shiwya, I say…
Continuing with the food theme of this entry… I was reading a Conde Nast Traveler magazine that another volunteer passed on to me (lhumdullah for the literary exchange that is in full force here) and came across this line:
“Barbeque is America’s greatest gift to cuisine.” Amen, brotha, amen. What I would do for a barbeque sandwich and some Dreamland ribs right now? Oh man, you have no idea…
And just because I think this deserves to be on the internet for everyone to see…Chris, my environment sitemate, has never been to the South. Well, he ventured across the Mason-Dixon line once to visit some friends in North Carolina but I am not really counting that. Sure he may read this thing but oh well, I have been to his hometown (Seattle) before. Back to the food theme…Chris has never had the pleasure of tasting collards (I guess that is understandable) or boiled peanuts (COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE). So when I find collards at souk and can learn how to make boiled peanuts (got any recipes…send them my way), I can introduce another American to the wonders of Southern food.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A Good Metaphor
Besides being in complete denial that it is December already, I spent this past weekend integrating (a word Peace Corps interjects into sentences like Paris Hilton interjects ‘that’s hot’) in my new community and getting to know my host family. Between two long hikes in some of the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen, drinking a gazillion glasses of tea, and having my first hammam experience, I realized that my host nephew, Ali, provides the best metaphor for my life in Morocco.
This little boy was born just a few weeks before I arrived in Morocco. In a lot of ways, I am like him:
-We have both embarked on a journey; Ali’s is the journey of life; mine is the journey of life after school
-Right now, he is moving around to figure out where he is much like what I am doing
-In the next few months, we will both get our legs and walk freely about
-In a year, we will both be running around like we own this town
I am excited to be here in my little town and to be sharing it with everyone who reads this blog.
This little boy was born just a few weeks before I arrived in Morocco. In a lot of ways, I am like him:
-We have both embarked on a journey; Ali’s is the journey of life; mine is the journey of life after school
-Right now, he is moving around to figure out where he is much like what I am doing
-In the next few months, we will both get our legs and walk freely about
-In a year, we will both be running around like we own this town
I am excited to be here in my little town and to be sharing it with everyone who reads this blog.
Friday, November 30, 2007
In Site
Well, I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer. My group of 67 swore-in on Monday in a very nice ceremony in Fez. The Ambassador and his wife attended and again I was impressed. Fez is an incredible city. I would walk down the streets and feel like I was in Europe; it even has American things like a Wal-mart type store called Marjane and McDonalds (hey hey hey). On the other hand, you walk through the medina and you feel like you have been transported back to the middle ages. I didn't get much time to explore but later, inshallah.
I have now been in my site for 3 days and amazingly enough, have been busy. Not American busy but Moroccan busy. I have finally got my carte de sejour (card saying I am a resident of my town) figured out and have seen most of my artisans. Also, my amazing sitemate (the other volunteer that lives in my town) took me on a mini hike to one of the hills surrounding my town. The scenery is so beautiful. Unfornately, I forgot to take my camera. Still kicking myself on that one but I will have lots more time to make up for it.
In Florida, there is a saying that you know it is cold outside if you can see your breath. Well, here at 1800m above sea level I see my breath almost every time I breathe. Let's just say I am cold. My body will adjust soon, inshallah. And it has already snowed in the mountains surrounding my town. Pictures will be forthcoming.
December 1st is tomorrow and it is crazy to think about where I am now and where I was a year ago.
Until later...
I have now been in my site for 3 days and amazingly enough, have been busy. Not American busy but Moroccan busy. I have finally got my carte de sejour (card saying I am a resident of my town) figured out and have seen most of my artisans. Also, my amazing sitemate (the other volunteer that lives in my town) took me on a mini hike to one of the hills surrounding my town. The scenery is so beautiful. Unfornately, I forgot to take my camera. Still kicking myself on that one but I will have lots more time to make up for it.
In Florida, there is a saying that you know it is cold outside if you can see your breath. Well, here at 1800m above sea level I see my breath almost every time I breathe. Let's just say I am cold. My body will adjust soon, inshallah. And it has already snowed in the mountains surrounding my town. Pictures will be forthcoming.
December 1st is tomorrow and it is crazy to think about where I am now and where I was a year ago.
Until later...
Sunday, November 18, 2007
CBT PHASE 4
I have spent the last 5 days back in CBT finishing the artisan work my group has been doing for the last 2 months. Returning to the poor little village after visiting my final site which is night-and-day different, I knew that the first few moments with my host family would be awkward. And awkward it was; very awkward. After about an hour with my host family, I was mad at myself for not being prepared. As I have had more time to reflect, I realize that there was little I could have done to prepare. In the best of situations, all I could have done was just smile and wait for the awkward moments to pass.
That first night, though, was not the best of situations. The moment I got into the house I knew I was in for a long night. My host sisters followed me into my room and as I put down my stuff, they started going through it and asking me how much everything costs. For obvious reasons, this made me very uncomfortable. Overall, Moroccans are usually indirect but when it comes to how much something costs, they have no problems asking us. I have done pretty well dodging these questions and have become accustomed to expecting them. But coming from my host family who I have grown fond of and who I have respect very much, I was put off and became visibly upset. They could see this and did not see to care. I have been living with this family for the better part of the last 2 months and this is the first time anything like this has happened. It was almost like they forgot I was a real person instead of an American toy. The rest of the days were better but still uncomfortable. They continued to ask me questions about money but they weren’t too bad and I was able to dodge them. What they were trying to prove, I have no idea.
It is amazing how much happened in the two weeks I was away from CBT. My host sister, Merriam, announced to me that she was getting married. This is really bad of me, but it is hard to be happy for her. I know marriage is different here than in the States but I can’t help that my “Americaness” comes out when I think about Merriam getting married. For me, it is not so much that she will only be 18 when she gets married, it is that the only thing she knows about her fiancé is that he lives in Paris. That is all; she doesn’t even know his name. Merriam doesn’t speak French or even Arabic and thinks it will be easy to go to Paris. I just want to sit her down and explain to her what her marriage and living in France means. If it were not completely inappropriate, I would do it minus the whole language barrier thing. I also know that Mina, my youngest host sister, is going to have to quit school soon. Without Merriam at the house, Mina’s hands are needed around the house. But I also know that Merriam getting out of Morocco will significantly help her family. They already rely on money sent from Paris by a relative living and working there and need any extra bit they can get. Another bright side, Merriam will get a chance to see a side of the world that few in this country get a chance to experience.
Reflecting on my CBT experience, I am really glad that my training has taken place in a poor, little village because I am even more appreciative of my final site. If my training had been a little more posh, I would have taken a lot of things for granted. My little CBT village has taught me a lot but I was ready to leave it. I am ready to end training and motivated to start working in my final site. I am ready to move on because I have had a glimpse of what the future looks like and it excites me.
That first night, though, was not the best of situations. The moment I got into the house I knew I was in for a long night. My host sisters followed me into my room and as I put down my stuff, they started going through it and asking me how much everything costs. For obvious reasons, this made me very uncomfortable. Overall, Moroccans are usually indirect but when it comes to how much something costs, they have no problems asking us. I have done pretty well dodging these questions and have become accustomed to expecting them. But coming from my host family who I have grown fond of and who I have respect very much, I was put off and became visibly upset. They could see this and did not see to care. I have been living with this family for the better part of the last 2 months and this is the first time anything like this has happened. It was almost like they forgot I was a real person instead of an American toy. The rest of the days were better but still uncomfortable. They continued to ask me questions about money but they weren’t too bad and I was able to dodge them. What they were trying to prove, I have no idea.
It is amazing how much happened in the two weeks I was away from CBT. My host sister, Merriam, announced to me that she was getting married. This is really bad of me, but it is hard to be happy for her. I know marriage is different here than in the States but I can’t help that my “Americaness” comes out when I think about Merriam getting married. For me, it is not so much that she will only be 18 when she gets married, it is that the only thing she knows about her fiancé is that he lives in Paris. That is all; she doesn’t even know his name. Merriam doesn’t speak French or even Arabic and thinks it will be easy to go to Paris. I just want to sit her down and explain to her what her marriage and living in France means. If it were not completely inappropriate, I would do it minus the whole language barrier thing. I also know that Mina, my youngest host sister, is going to have to quit school soon. Without Merriam at the house, Mina’s hands are needed around the house. But I also know that Merriam getting out of Morocco will significantly help her family. They already rely on money sent from Paris by a relative living and working there and need any extra bit they can get. Another bright side, Merriam will get a chance to see a side of the world that few in this country get a chance to experience.
Reflecting on my CBT experience, I am really glad that my training has taken place in a poor, little village because I am even more appreciative of my final site. If my training had been a little more posh, I would have taken a lot of things for granted. My little CBT village has taught me a lot but I was ready to leave it. I am ready to end training and motivated to start working in my final site. I am ready to move on because I have had a glimpse of what the future looks like and it excites me.
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