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.

The Impact of Coffee Talk

Right now, I’m having a difficult time writing this because my host brother keeps whispering to me, (shiwa, b shwia-which roughly translates to, little by little, and in this context, merely: slowly. He wants me to type slower because apparently I type very fast and it alarms him) 

It has occurred in my time in Morocco that I have been making some friends. For those of you who know me, this is absolutely no surprise and a benefit to me in a new country. This new friend, (who shall now be called Ahmed) brought a fellow PCT and I to his mother’s house for coffee. It is a) amazing how much of an impact coffee has on my demeanor (i.e., it dramatically improves my mood) and b) how much communication can happen in such a relaxed environment.

Ahmed poured us thick, extremely sugary cups of coffee and we spoke of cultural differences. To be honest, I’m still struggling with the cultural differences between Moroccans and Americans, but everyday seems to get a little easier. There’s a saying again: shwia b shwia, and I have made it my personal motto to help me remember to take things slowly. Ahmed, (who speaks almost perfect English) tells me that shwia b shwia, I am learning Moroccan Arabic. He is so kind to offer us coffee and conversation. He is very educated about religion and he wanted to know about American culture and religion. Thankfully I had time to learn about this topic in college and so we spoke about how he felt about Islam. He knew quite a lot about Islam and many other religions and he was not afraid to speak about any of them.

Many PCTs encounter Islam in their day to day lives. My host parents speak to me often about Islam, telling me that there is only one God, and never to drink, and so on and so forth. It has occurred with other PCTs I know that express their religious preference and they receive a strange face from their audience. I felt comfortable enough telling my family my own religious preference and they accepted it and kept teaching me about Islam. But back to Ahmed. He found it excellent that Moroccans were so receptive to anyone who comes into their country. He did want to know how religion worked in America. Could people of different religions intermarry, and if so, how does that work with their families? Are there trends of agnosticism and atheism in the states, and where? Is it common for people to say they have no religious preference? I really liked discussing these topics and he shared with us his personal views. Unfortunately, it is imperative that I keep his opinion protected since he did not give me permission to use his words. Therefore, I can tell you that he has visited other countries within Europe and experienced the religion, or paucity thereof. I can also tell you that it is so important to take the time to have coffee talk with people, because sometimes you can have a moment of cross cultural experience. I felt that this conversation really began to validate my experience so far in the Peace Corps. Inshallah, I shall have a friend so willing to share like this in my permanent site. 

Sorry it's been so long!

So, since apparently the post I attempted to write on Wednesday didn’t get posted, I shall write again!

Let’s give the quick and dirty of what’s been happening:

I’ve had my first marriage proposal.

I’ve gone to the public baths.

I’ve gotten montezumas curse on the morning that the water decided to stop running.

My dad woke me up at 6am to go running for 11k. That was new.

Learned to love oral rehydration salts.

Been to four weddings (it’s wedding season).

Become an accidental Muslim. (Let me explain, I was at a wedding and the women prostrated themselves to pray. One woman came up to me, grabbed my hand and started repeating sentences that contained waHd (one) Allah and mohammed. It quickly occurred to me that after I had repeated this three times that I had converted to Islam. Then once they saw I had understood everyone started laughing hysterically. hahah, the weird American girl is a Muslim, hahaha, look what she said! So then I told my teacher about the experience and she laughed and said, don't worry, you're not a Muslim unless you say it with intent.)

AND I have gone ONE WEEK without a bath. So today I begged my parents to let me have a bucket shower, and then once they realized that is all I wanted, they were very happy to comply. I now have clean hair! I felt like singing "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" the entire time. 

One more thing: My family also decided to get a modem at their house, so I downloaded Internet explorer 8 and Google Chrome onto their computer because they were using an old browser that would not support hotmail. Go geek power!

In other news:

So it’s been busy to say the least. I’m learning Darija and getting technical sessions from 8:30-6:00 from Monday through Saturday. I’m just super happy I have some time to make it to the cyber café.

I came home today and my mom is moaning in the corner. I’m pretty sure she’s sick, poor thing. Speaking of which, my parents are very VERY caring. They finally are letting me walk to and from school by myself. They were so worried that I would get lost for the first week and a half that I could not go anywhere by myself.  It has been interesting adapting to some of the social norms here. Not to say I can’t, I’m just…coping with all the major changes at the moment. But things are well, and i'm handling one disaster at a time moderately well so things are stable. 

Where am I?

I am finally in Africa. A bunch of the PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) went for a walk on the beach today and it was incredibly surreal. The mere fact that I was walking around in Africa, in Morocco no less seemed like a dream. I suppose I have come to terms with this and have moved on to accepting this surreal reality as something that exists.

Anyhow, while I was taking a shower this evening, I heard quite a hullabaloo downstairs. So I quickly clothed and went downstairs to check out the noise. The teachers who are going to teach our group Darija (Moroccan Arabic) and tamazight (a Berber dialect) had all gathered around a man playing the oud in the Salon. There were quite a few other PCTs who came down to listen to the music. I felt like I wanted to sing with their songs and understand what they were singing. So I asked to sit down next to one of the teachers and she explained to me quietly what the songs were about. Eventually she had me dancing a new dance and sort of humming and bobbing along with the rest of the musicians/vocalists/teachers. Everyone was drumming on the table, dancing, gesturing, and singing. How ridiculously blessed am I? Almost all the other PCTs are asleep now, but I felt that I needed to be around the music. After all, I can't speak Darija yet, but music is something I can understand.