Yesterday morning I did the walk of shame home. I walked home from a dowar that I don’t live in, at 830 am, in the clothes I wore the night before, after sleeping next to a total stranger in a strange house after a very long night… let me start from the beginning.
The day started as usual, woke up at about 9 to the birds chirping outside my window, it seems they have built a nest right outside my window in the mud and straw that is my roof. After my morning breakfast (I decided on oatmeal- a luxury I buy in the big city of Oz) and a cup of coffee I sat down to read emails annd catch up with the real world. Time sure flies by when your connecting and reconnecting to the internet and before I knew it, its 11am and I hear a knock on the door. After I throw a sweater on I go to answer the door and there is a young girl standing there. I recognize her from the day before when I saw her on my way to Souk. She had pretty henna so I complimented her on it, she told me she would come to my house to do it for me the next day, and here she is. This is the funny thing about people in Morocco, they use the phrase “ar sabah” (which translates to tomorrow) a lot. Sometimes it means tomorrow and sometimes it just means in the future. In this case it literally meant tomorrow. ,I of course, invite her in after brief “hellos, how are yous” she asks if I still want the henna. I tell her yes, so she instructs her little sister who is with her to go buy it at the hanut (corner store). I then take this opportunity to begin the tea making process since its rude to have a guest in your house and not offer something. Luckily my host family supplied me with all the goods for tea (cups, silver platter to serve it, tea pot and little bowls for oil/nuts). I made the tea Moroccan style (she and her gaggle of girls- 5 to be exact) were very impressed and we drank tea and ate cookies that I bought from souk and cashews (compliments of my fabulous dads are package) together.
After tea the henna process began. They sometimes put paint thinner in the henna to make it last longer and this was no exception. It makes the henna burn a bit, but it does make it darker. So after 2 hours of henna (front/back of both hands and some on my feet, but not enough to mean I’m married) the henna party began on the other girls. Before I knew it its now 2, and time for lunch. I wasn’t really prepared to feed 5 others so I decided on spaghetti since its pretty quick and American (Peace Corps Goal 3: Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served). I served the spaghetti on plates, with forks and taught them all how to use it. As you can imagine, between the henna on our hands and never using a fork it was quite a mess but we laughed and they enjoyed the spaghetti. The girls finally left at about 4 (after insisting on helping clean up the house, they did the dishes and swept the kitchen/courtyard area) and I was left alone once again (I have a new found appreciation for alone time).
The day before while I was in souk I was also instructed to go to Toughout (the dowar I used to live in) at 830 the next day for a wedding- maybe. Here is the thing about my language. I understand whats going on about 80% of the time, but sometimes I’m shwiya (sort of) confused and think I know whats going on when I really don’t. This was one of those times. I was 95% sure I was supposed to go to Toughout, but I'm never really sure which sucks because it could lead to a very confusing conversation trying to explain that I didn’t actually understand the day before. So anyway, I bucket showered, got dressed and headed over to Toughout not really knowing what to expect. I went to my host familys house and my sister wasn’t there, so I went to my friend Aminas house and her mom told me she was already at the wedding (bingo- I was right) so I headed over to Malikas house for her wedding celebrations. I arrived and the party was already started with loud singing, dancing (which is really just a sort of sway while you clap your hands) and lots of sweating. I was quickly wisked back to my friend Aminas house since I was not appropriately dress (my sun dress and long sleeve shirt wasn’t gonna cut it, so I was put into Moroccan wedding attire).
All the people who attended were crammed into a room, with the bride (Malika, a friend of mine) and groom on the far end, his family sitting closest to them and everyone else sitting on the ponjs (couches) lining the walls with people “dancing” in the middle. Malika was sitting with pillows under her hands and feet so she could get hennaed. Let me tell you, this wasn’t like the henna I had got that day, this was REAL henna. It took at least 6 hours, with 2 girls working on her, to get her henna done but wow, was it beautiful (pics soon). We literally danced and took photos (I had a camera and the grooms family had one, so everyone wanted pictures—they love pictures here, its annoying sometimes). Dinner was served at about 11, a whole chicken per table (whoooa!), elf pasta (spaghetti with powdered sugar and cinnamon) and watermelon for dessert. After dinner there was more dancing and I finally decided I was over it at about 2.
After I told my friend I wanted to go home I was told that wasn’t possible since the path to my dowar isn’t safe at night (due to stray dogs and being a female, stray males) so I wouldn’t be able to return home. I was hoping to be able to sleep at my host families house but since I hadn’t seen my host sister in hours (I guess she went home early because she got angry, I don’t really know the whole story here) I asked Amina if I could stay at her house. And that is how I ended up sleeping next to Aminas mom (a stranger), in a strange house, on the concrete floor and doing the walk of shame home at 830 the next morning.
Always something new here in Morocco and loving every minute of it!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Home sweet home...
I’m writing this entry from my brand new plastic table, while sitting on the brand new plastic chair in my courtyard drinking cold water from the fridge and wearing a tank top!! Oh, the simple joys of life!!
I’m officially moved into my house, have been since the 1st but its been quite a process since i literally moved in with only my luggage from home(American home). On July 1st my family helped me load the aserdoon (mule) up with all my luggage and make the short trip over to my new dowar. They helped me unload the luggage and then requested I return home for tea and lunch. After lunch I headed home to my new house and I must say, I thought my reaction would be very different since I had been looking forward to the first day in my new house for weeks now. I sat on my dirty kitchen floor, looking at the chipped paint, stained tiles, and cried…. Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m fine now, I just had the brief moment of panic (no bed, no fridge, no pots, pans, broom—nothing). After I pulled myself together I made a trip to the hanut, which is just the corner store that sells just about everything. (I also learned I don’t have one of these in my particular dowar). I returned home with some Tide, sponges, brooms and buckets. I spent most of day one cleaning and going through my luggage since I just threw most of it together and didn’t really know where anything was.
While cleaning/unpacking I had a few woman from the dowar stop by to say hello/invite me for tea and also had my first run in with my new arch enemy- the neighborhood children. For those of you that know me at home you know I’m not such a fan of children. I just don’t have the patience and most of the time they just annoy me. Well, imagine my happiness when they created a new game called “knock on the foreigner’s door and run.” After about 3 knock and runs I finally grabbed one of the children and told them I was done playing this game and they needed to stop. I don’t know if that particular kid is the one who did the knocking or not, but guilty by association. (oh yeah, he cried, but I got my point across). After that I had to yell at one more little girl and I haven’t had the problem since. They have a new game called “can we see inside your house game” but I'm working on that one with them now.
The last week or so has consisted of me going into souk (which is just far enough that it sucks to carry everything home, but close enough I just look lazy if I get a ride. Its also hard to get a ride since its an unpaved bumpy road), looking for various thing like a bed, oven (which is just a metal box of fire), fridge, table, pots, pans, etc and paying a transit driver to help me bring it all home. Slowly my house is starting to look like a home and I couldn’t be happier about it. Its just so nice to have a place that I don’t have to worry about what I'm wearing (although I have to be careful because the neighbor kids can stand on their roof and see into my courtyard), eat/drink when and what I want, etc.
My house is the house I blogged about earlier, but imagine my surprise when I came home from Essaouria (more about that later) and my landlord showed me he connected pipes so I now have water in my kitchen AND bathroom! I have 4 rooms, of which I only use 2 and have the others closed up. One is my room (which just had a bed now) and the other is a salon (with nothing yet). I also have a small courtyard where I plan to grow some herbs, flowers and a small kitchen. (Pictures up on facebook). It’s a great little house, taking some getting used to being alone at night (I still freak myself out sometimes) but I really like it. Eventually I want to paint but I’m thinking that’s going to be a Ramadan project. Its so weird to think this is home for the next two years….
Other than the house I’ve been trying to integrate more and more in the community. Although having to buy everything for the house was a bit annoying it was good because it meant I had to spend more time in Souk. Souk is my main dowar and its where all the ‘businesses’ are, its also where our weekly market is help. I have to go through there for transport, etc but I don’t like to spend a lot of time there because honestly, it’s just awkward since females usually avoid the area. Talking to people where to buy things, buying them and trying to get transport back to my house gave me a reason to be there and the opportunity to talk to people I otherwise would have been a bit intimidated to do. Also, since I’d be living in another dowar I forgot how used to seeing me people became. But now? New dowar, back to square one. I still get the ‘bonjour’ from people, since they assume all foreigners are French (its funny because 99% of the people don’t know anything BUT bonjour but they insist on saying it to me). So I'm back to explaining to people I'm American, I live here, I work in health, I'm 23, not married (miskeena=poor thing), I don’t want to be married, I have two sisters..... blah blah blah. Its interesting because I know how to talk about those basic types of things really well, so sometimes they think my tashlheet is better than it is in the beginning and start talking really fast… then we have to back up and I have to explain I’ve only been studying it for 4 months (yeah--- can you believe it!? I’ve been here 4 MONTHS!)
I’ve also had the opportunity to visit both Marrakesh and Essaouria since last post. Both of those alone could be their own posts, but I’m sure I’ll return so I’ll fill you all in on those trips another time. Briefly though, I went to Essaouria for a music festival which was super fun. I got to meet a lot of other volunteers I wouldn’t have otherwise met. It’s crazy to think there are over 250 of us here in Morocco and some of us will never meet!!
Whewwww--- long post, sorry. Thanks if you’ve read the whole thing, I’ll try and get better are posting more often so they are not as long. Bslama! (go with piece, aka- goodbye!)
I’m officially moved into my house, have been since the 1st but its been quite a process since i literally moved in with only my luggage from home(American home). On July 1st my family helped me load the aserdoon (mule) up with all my luggage and make the short trip over to my new dowar. They helped me unload the luggage and then requested I return home for tea and lunch. After lunch I headed home to my new house and I must say, I thought my reaction would be very different since I had been looking forward to the first day in my new house for weeks now. I sat on my dirty kitchen floor, looking at the chipped paint, stained tiles, and cried…. Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m fine now, I just had the brief moment of panic (no bed, no fridge, no pots, pans, broom—nothing). After I pulled myself together I made a trip to the hanut, which is just the corner store that sells just about everything. (I also learned I don’t have one of these in my particular dowar). I returned home with some Tide, sponges, brooms and buckets. I spent most of day one cleaning and going through my luggage since I just threw most of it together and didn’t really know where anything was.
While cleaning/unpacking I had a few woman from the dowar stop by to say hello/invite me for tea and also had my first run in with my new arch enemy- the neighborhood children. For those of you that know me at home you know I’m not such a fan of children. I just don’t have the patience and most of the time they just annoy me. Well, imagine my happiness when they created a new game called “knock on the foreigner’s door and run.” After about 3 knock and runs I finally grabbed one of the children and told them I was done playing this game and they needed to stop. I don’t know if that particular kid is the one who did the knocking or not, but guilty by association. (oh yeah, he cried, but I got my point across). After that I had to yell at one more little girl and I haven’t had the problem since. They have a new game called “can we see inside your house game” but I'm working on that one with them now.
The last week or so has consisted of me going into souk (which is just far enough that it sucks to carry everything home, but close enough I just look lazy if I get a ride. Its also hard to get a ride since its an unpaved bumpy road), looking for various thing like a bed, oven (which is just a metal box of fire), fridge, table, pots, pans, etc and paying a transit driver to help me bring it all home. Slowly my house is starting to look like a home and I couldn’t be happier about it. Its just so nice to have a place that I don’t have to worry about what I'm wearing (although I have to be careful because the neighbor kids can stand on their roof and see into my courtyard), eat/drink when and what I want, etc.
My house is the house I blogged about earlier, but imagine my surprise when I came home from Essaouria (more about that later) and my landlord showed me he connected pipes so I now have water in my kitchen AND bathroom! I have 4 rooms, of which I only use 2 and have the others closed up. One is my room (which just had a bed now) and the other is a salon (with nothing yet). I also have a small courtyard where I plan to grow some herbs, flowers and a small kitchen. (Pictures up on facebook). It’s a great little house, taking some getting used to being alone at night (I still freak myself out sometimes) but I really like it. Eventually I want to paint but I’m thinking that’s going to be a Ramadan project. Its so weird to think this is home for the next two years….
Other than the house I’ve been trying to integrate more and more in the community. Although having to buy everything for the house was a bit annoying it was good because it meant I had to spend more time in Souk. Souk is my main dowar and its where all the ‘businesses’ are, its also where our weekly market is help. I have to go through there for transport, etc but I don’t like to spend a lot of time there because honestly, it’s just awkward since females usually avoid the area. Talking to people where to buy things, buying them and trying to get transport back to my house gave me a reason to be there and the opportunity to talk to people I otherwise would have been a bit intimidated to do. Also, since I’d be living in another dowar I forgot how used to seeing me people became. But now? New dowar, back to square one. I still get the ‘bonjour’ from people, since they assume all foreigners are French (its funny because 99% of the people don’t know anything BUT bonjour but they insist on saying it to me). So I'm back to explaining to people I'm American, I live here, I work in health, I'm 23, not married (miskeena=poor thing), I don’t want to be married, I have two sisters..... blah blah blah. Its interesting because I know how to talk about those basic types of things really well, so sometimes they think my tashlheet is better than it is in the beginning and start talking really fast… then we have to back up and I have to explain I’ve only been studying it for 4 months (yeah--- can you believe it!? I’ve been here 4 MONTHS!)
I’ve also had the opportunity to visit both Marrakesh and Essaouria since last post. Both of those alone could be their own posts, but I’m sure I’ll return so I’ll fill you all in on those trips another time. Briefly though, I went to Essaouria for a music festival which was super fun. I got to meet a lot of other volunteers I wouldn’t have otherwise met. It’s crazy to think there are over 250 of us here in Morocco and some of us will never meet!!
Whewwww--- long post, sorry. Thanks if you’ve read the whole thing, I’ll try and get better are posting more often so they are not as long. Bslama! (go with piece, aka- goodbye!)
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