Happy Birthday

March 26^th was my last day in the village and also the last day of my 21^st year. I woke up and walked outside as I did every morning. As I stood next to our house, looking over the arching hills and fields of flowers, I immediately felt at peace and was very grateful that I shed my 21^st year in a place that reinforced my values and brought me closer to what I wanted out of life.

I spent the morning reading on top of a hill with some friends and the afternoon with the women of my family getting henna done. I spent a lot of time walking and playing with Said and Kawthar since in addition to it being my last day as 21, it was also my last day with my host family. The next morning was especially hard for Kawthar, who was extremely angry at me for leaving and even harder for me as I thought of my younger siblings in Kenya. Evan told me of how his mother had stayed up all night weaving a rug for him, and I broke down. I’m still saying goodbye in my own way.

March 27^th, we arrived back to Rabat and although I was still upset about the morning, my host family in Rabat was happy to welcome me back and my mother had made an amazing meal for lunch only to outdo herself in the evening. I took a 2-hour shower after 7 days without one, and then went shopping with my mom and sister. Although I was surrounded by a lot of love, I missed Arcadius a lot. I had missed my mother’s birthday which on the 25^th, had happened during my village stay. I miss you guys a lot, really!

I was in the process of figuring out plans for the evening and was walking down Mohammed V when I crossed paths with Gier who suggested Café Renaissance, one of the few cafes in Rabat that actually serves alcohol. The plan was made to head to the Goethe Institute in the evening for more drinks which ended up being a beautiful surprise. The décor was laid back, with red and orange lighting, some palm trees, and best of all, great company and free alcohol. Happy birthday indeed!

Futbol

The tradition of evening weaving lessons at the neighbors house was followed by a soccer game at 6pm as had happened the previous evening. The only difference is that this time, we played with a legitimate soccer ball. Upon my request, Nordine had bought the ball from the nearby town of Boujad as a gift for Said, my nine year old brother. This soccer ball was the beginning of many evils and blessings. The first was that the boys became very aggressive and small acts of violence ensued prompting Rob to intervene at one point. As the game grew to encompass more and more kids from the area, the older ones began to horde the ball although it belonged to my young brother who was defenseless to do or say anything. Luckily, Yusef, an older cousin of a friend pacified all things and by this time a larger group of students from my program as well as a few young men from the village assembled and what ensued was amazing. The playing field (dirt road) was widened and the Americans formed a team against the Moroccans. The best part was that everyone played from the 8 year olds (aggressive little monsters) to the 20 something youths. As the awesome goalie that I proved to be, I saved 3 goals thus maintaining our 2-1 lead. Way to go America (phonetically Ahmehreka)!

Village Highlights

1. Prior to arriving at the village, our program had stopped at the nearest major city, Boujad, where we meet with some of the youth who unbeknown to us, had arranged for a type of talent show. I can’t express how happy I was when I heard Soulja Boy during one of the dance performances. Talk about universal appeal.

2. True to village mentality and hospitality, I was often cajoled into a neighbor’s house for tea and bread, and one day had the pleasure of blindly being led into three different homes for tea.

3. Following tea at Evan’s house, Cody, Evan and I watched Tom and Jerry fully appreciating the genius of a cartoon that has no words, utilizes classical music and has cross-cultural appeal.

4. I finally agreed to have my sisters apply henna on my hands. My only note of caution was that unlike the pretty flower designs that are often associated with henna designs, traditional henna in rural areas has no design and merely covers the entire palm and nails. My decision was applauded by the women in my house who kept stating I should leave it on longer, for the redder or more orange it is, the more beautiful it will be. I said no thank you after two hours. As the henna was drying we had nothing to do, so I showed my mother and sisters some Yoga and Pilates moves which amused them to the point of tears as I explained in the best Arabic I could that many women do this to be in good health.

All In A Day’s Work

The concept of time in the village is very relative and would at times seem to drag especially considering we were waking up at 6.30am. To pass the days, some group activities were arranged. The first was a three hour hike in the morning to a destination for lunch and a two hour hike back. When we left, it was around 9am, the sun was still rising and the cool morning breeze made one feel more adept at taking on the uphill journey. I may keep repeating this, but I have never been surrounded by such beauty. By the time we arrived at our halfway point, we gathered into one home and ate a feast of delicious bread which was devoured with a zeal that you cannot even imagine. We then met with some women from the area and asked questions about their lives, hardships and inequalities, and hopes for themselves and their children. The walk back was harder although it was downhill since the sun and the food had put us all into a very comfortable lull and by the time we arrived back I desperately wanted a shower, but since that was not an option, I settled for the baby wipes that I had brought to freshen up.

What I appreciated most about our new homes was how organic everything was. The water that was used for the day was gathered from the well behind our house. The bread was made fresh every morning, and all our meals, even the meat was gathered from the garden or one of the stock of animals my family kept. More impressively, they made their own olive oil and wove all the mats and rags we slept on. The self-sustaining nature of our families was one of the reason one of our activities was to learn how to weave. I would love to say I was a champion weaver, but the loom looks hard because it is hard. Evan’s mother taught us as best as she could, but I doubt anything we did could be replicated without her by our side motioning for how and where to place our hands. Nevertheless, when she did it, it was fast and seamless and soothing.

The Tamsna Feryat Village

Weird experience being here. First, because everything they warned us about doesn’t seem to apply. This isn’t the (well, whatever you’d consider a normal village). The landscape is beautiful and everywhere you walk you wish there was a way you could capture it all. The views are absolutely amazing and as we walked from the main road down the 3 mile dirt path that brought us to village, I couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of it. It goes without saying, that I have never seen anything like where we were. As we came closer to the mosque where we were to meet with our host fathers, I thought, so this is what being adopted feels like, It was a strange sensation, hoping that as they paired you off, you father would look happy to have you and not the next kid. As we walked off towards our house, my father stopped a neighbor with a mule so that I would not have to lug my duffel bag, although in truth, we lived a five-minute walk from the mosque. My family consisted of my host mother and father, four male siblings of varied ages, the wives of two of my brothers, and one grandchild. I called everyone save for my parents my siblings and the two youngest were nine year old Said and six year old Kawthar. I have to admit, these two were my Achilles heels. I said this to someone later, that if I could go through life having someone look at me with as much gratuitous love as these two showed me, I would live a very happy life.

The first day and a half I was treated very much as a guest and thus not allowed to do much but eat, sit and sleep. I made the mistake of wanting my seven days in this village to be “me time,” often telling my family I wanted to go for a walk and just see the area, but my family would caution against wild dogs and if they finally acquiesced to me walking off, someone would have to walk with me, but even then never too far from the house. It bothered me that I was treated like a child and although the dialect of Darija (Moroccan Arabic)they spoke is quite different from what is spoken in Rabat, I found ways to make my displeasure known. I curse myself for making such a horrible first impression, but I changed my ways and began to make myself more a part of the family. I woke up with my sisters, helped gather wood for the oven to bake bread, put away the bedding as my sisters swept the house, gathered water from the well with the help of the mule and helped cook breakfast after which I volunteered to wash the dishes. My family appreciated the effort and for the remainder of the week, I spent as much time as possible being of use around the house, or walking with my mother and the kids, even teaching my family numbers and useful words and phrases in English.

Rabatian Highlights

1. My Arabic is really improving, especially when it comes to haggling in the souk or getting around in a taxi…this I can get used to.

2. Evan recently celebrated his 20^th birthday and so Gier and I bought him this white Adidas track suit with gold stripes on the side. Without exaggeration almost every man in Rabat has a pair, in either white or black. My final vision is for everyone on my program to buy the black track suits and for us to walk across the street with Evan in the middle and fog filling the background. I live and breathe for this day.

3. My host mother took me to the hammam ( the public bath) and it was great. There are buckets a plenty so you can get as much hot water as you’d like and they have this loafer that really just scrubs away all the dirt. I walked out feeling like a new woman, not only has my skin never been so smooth, but I don’t think I’ve ever been as clean as when I left the hammam. Ps: It is often a sign of friendship or respect if someone offers to scrub your back, so of course my mom got me covered on that front. I’m a true believer!

4. There was this one day in Rabat that was just beautiful. It felt like a true summer day and happened to be couscous Friday, meaning my mother made couscous for lunch and we invited other family over for a delicious meal after which, the Penn State boys (Ryan and Albert) and a few others and myself took a stroll by the water to get some ice-cream followed by weak attempts at reading at the beach, which invariably ended up with all of us taking a nap under the sun. It was a perfect afternoon and I really, truly loved every second of it.

5. This past weekend was the first that I did not travel and thus had time to get in touch with family and friends from home. 5 hours later, after continuous Skype conversations and no lunch, I called it quits having had a lovely fill of hearing the voices of those I care for. This is was great for my soul. Thank you guys. I even arranged an April reunion with Rachel who’ll be visiting during her break away from Paris.

6. Had dinner Saturday night with Maha and her family. Any encounters with Maha is always golden. The girl is priceless to my Moroccan experience. After dinner she gave me a pre-birthday gift since she will be in Egypt during the actual day. Her gift was deeply meaningful and she explained that the design on the bracelet consisted of a pattern worn by her great grandmother and the subsequent women of her family. It is a perfect gift and I am very thankful!

7. I’m saving the best for last. This past week, my family hosted two boys from Penn State. Ryan and Albert very soon became like family and each evening we would sit as a family and go through their pictures of the day as they struggled a bit with the Arabic terms they had learned during the day. I feel amiss without them. I’ll miss them a lot and although short lived, it was a pleasure to call them my brothers.

Essaouira And All Its Wonders

If you ask a lot of young Moroccans what their favorite city is, a majority will mention Essaouira, and with just reason. Essaouira is a coastal town in southern Morocco that is reminiscent of Spanish and Berber influences, yet holds its own as far as coastal towns go. It is beautiful and windy and relaxed and the perfect place to spend a summer. Essaouira also hosts the annual Gnawa music festival in the summer which brings together a lot of people. I’m recently getting really into this type of music which is a type of folk music that includes live instruments of Amazigh origin. Recently there has been a lot of fusion with Hip Hop and Reggae sounds resulting in the most chill sound this part of Africa. I’m starting a collection, so ask me about this when I get back to the States.

As Cody and I walked around the souk, we encountered a lot of great shops as well as music stores, many of which had posters of Bob Marley and played some great tunes. Needless to say, a lot of my money went to buying clothes, jewelry and music while here. A lot of money, by the way, when you take the exchange rate into account only amounts to close to $100, another reason I love this country.

A special note, the men of Essaouira are beautiful.

Anyway, on our first night in Essaouira, I spent some time with Cody and Rob and a bottle of red wine listening to some Bob Marley. This was good. I’m very much comforted by their personalities. On the second day, five of us rented an apartment for 300 dirhams or $27. We spent the day relaxing, walking, eating and all met up later in the evening where we met a group of four friends touring the world. They had previously been to Sri Lanka, India, Egypt, Tunisia, Amsterdam, currently in Morocco and were soon heading to Brazil. They were fun and a chance encounter later in the night led us to Taros where we were entertained by this AMAZING magician.

The magician alone deserves a paragraph of praise. Everything he did was legit, but I feel it my duty to talk of one in particular. He had three cups upside down on the table and a red ball which would appear in a different cup, sometimes multiple balls and so on. His greatness is not in this, although it was cool, but in what he did next. He opened the two outer cups and instead of these red balls, there were lemons (wtf!?!) and THEN, he flipped the middle cup and yes, oh yes, there was a live chick…I mean really, a live baby chicken. Essaouira is really the land of dreams and Marley and magic.