The blog after Eid Kbir.

WARNING: Don't eat or drink whilst reading this post. Secondly, if you have a weak stomach, don't read this post.




First of all, I totally failed at eating sheep stomach. I tried about one bite before the revulsion response took effect.  No one ever said I had a particularly hardy stomach. I therefore give myself the special adjective ‘burhusha’ (childish). My host mom is sitting here watching me type and I told her what all of this meant and she is laughing hysterically at my gastric weakness.  

Anyhow, so I have survived my first Eid Kbir. Henry the sheep was not so fortunate. While Henry did spend his nights in the hotel d’kitchen, he also banged the crap out of the stove, tried to ram as many people as he could and generally pawed the floor to smithereens.  So when the big day arrived, he was relocated to the roof. But more about Henry later.

Let’s describe how everything went down. The night before Eid Kbir, my family was so excited they could hardly contain themselves. The feeling was definitely akin to that of Christmas, and in fact, if I had to pick a Muslim celebration that gives you the same cozy feeling that Christmas does, it would probably be Eid Kbir (sans sheep slaughtering). The next day we got up at 7:30am so my host father and brother could go to the mosque and that the women could stay home and prepare breakfast. It was one of the more mighty breakfasts I have seen here. We had harira (soup) and cow butter (I didn’t know this was cause for a big deal), cake, cookies, and of course the ubiquitous bread and mint tea that a Moroccan meal must have. After my host father and brother returned we did indeed dine, and then dined more with the guests who come and visit.

So by the time that we had a chance to clean up breakfast and say hello to well-wishers and friends of the family, it was about 9:30 and Henry’s time drew nearer. In fact, about a half hour later the butcher showed up. I told my parents that I was scared of watching Henry get slaughtered. I like to think that I’m actually not scared, but I had happened to be on the roof looking at the exact wrong (or right?) moment to see about six other sheep getting slaughtered on other peoples’ roofs.  Therefore, Henry ended and the fun did begin. I came back on the roof a while later and Henry’s body was neatly tied to hang on the roof and his skin was on the other wall.  All the sweet meats and innards and head were on separate plates on the ground. Just as I was about to lose it, my friend (a PCT) walked by and thankfully she grabbed me from the roof and we had a nice chat and she invited me over later.

Not more than ten minutes after she left, another PCT came to my house and stole me to his house, only to see his host family’s goats being cleaned on their front porch. I was managing pretty well until I saw a maggot crawl out of a goat brain. I directly turned inside his house, drank a glass of tea and pretended it did not happen. But then I waited until I was breathing calmly again and then managed to go back to my house for lunch. Liver isn’t so bad. 

Here is sweet Henry. Good old boy. 

Here is a lovely photo of Henry's skin that he wasn't using anymore.

Sheep in the Kitchen.

11.14.2010

Happy birthday dear American father!

My host father just brought home the sheep for Eid Kbir. For now, it lives in the kitchen. All I can think right now is: this is how people get infectious diseases. (I must remind myself not to read anything about the plague or mad cow disease for the next week.) I can smell the barnyard smells. Num num.

I have a feeling Eid Kbir is going to be something I should worry about. I wish I was not one of those soft hearted people who cares about animals. I am the wrong kind of person in this country.  I am just waiting to come home so my host parents can ask me to photograph the slaughtering of the sheep in the kitchen. Goodnight mr. sheep, it’s been nice knowing you.

All I know is that I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat the brain or the stomach. 

I will put up pictures of the sheep I promise, but for now you will have to be satisfied with a picture of some camels that I took on the beach in Mehdia. (A city on the coast near Rabat).

The blog before Eid Kbir

11.13.2010

How do you compliment someone on their sheep? Yes, I did just spend the past 45 minutes talking about how great that sheep is going to taste in the next week. I have the pleasure of spending a few days eating tons of meat and having full days of family time this next week. Needless to say Eid Kbir (That’s Arabic for freaking huge holiday) is upon us. Why a sheep? Well, every Eid Kbir, every Muslim family buys a sheep and kills it for the giant feast. Eid Kbir is in remembrance of the story of Ishmael and Abraham (in the Christian tradition, that is Isaac, not Ishmael). 

Sadly the rest of this blog goes unfinished because I fell asleep. Don't worry though, I wrote more!

So for your enjoyment, here's a picture of our friend: Hmar  (that's Arabic for donkey) I have been told that when he makes noises, he's making the noise of Satan. Hooray folklore!

I will be putting up pictures of sheep later.

Every day is a new adventure.

Hey all, so I know I haven't been blogging alot, but I did blog on my computer and just save the days, so i'm going to make a few consecutive blogs. Enjoy!

I’m definitely learning more Arabic but I get frustrated at times. I am still really busy because I am still in training which thankfully fills up my time. I have a few anxieties about the future and I know it’s sort of useless to worry but I still want to list them because I think they’re valid.

a)      I am slightly concerned that once I am let off of this tightly scheduled training I’m going to be swimming in a world of, “holy cow-what-the-heck-am-I-doing-here?” mindframe.

b)      That I have been so spoiled by my sister who speaks decent English that I’ll freak out when I have to rely on my broken Darija.

c)       That I’ll lose motivation in the months ahead.

d)      That I’ll freak out the first moment I’m in my Dar Chebab (Youth center where those of us assigned to Youth Development will be working)

e)      That I will be in a huge city and be surrounded by lots and lots and lots and lots of people who won’t talk to the weird and poor foreigner.

f)       That I’ll be in a tiny city where everyone knows the smallest details of my existence.

I know you might think that some of these are silly but, I think I just needed to air my mind out a little. I can’t be studying Darija all the time. I am very very very thankful for this weekend because I actually was able to go explore Fes and see Morocco’s version of Fred Meyer.

First of all, Morocco’s Fred Meyer is called Marjhane and it’s the biggest single store I’ve seen since I have been here. I bought some eye-liner for my eyes so people will stop asking if I’m Moslem because I don’t wear makeup. I also bought some cheese so I could make tacos for my family. It turns out that I couldn’t correctly decipher the French packaging and ended up buying goulda, so we had goulda and chicken tacos. When I came home my host sister and mother and I handmade tortillas and then cooked up some chicken and beans with onions and spices. I was really pleased with the results and the family seemed to enjoy the food. I did have to explain that Mexican food is very popular in the states and that everyone eats it.

So that brings us up to now, where I am listening to music with my host sister after a long day of walking around the Medina in Fes. Let me tell you, walking through the medina is a trip. It’s literally thousands of people all shoving through these tiny alleyways where every nook and cranny is filled with a shop of some sort. My group and I even managed to see the oldest tannery in North Africa. It’s called the Dar dbagh and we were able to take a little tour.