Here Comes the Rain

        Thursday (Nov 25^th), my class went on a ‘field trip’ to the Souk Al Khamise (I think that’s the right name). It was in a more rural area on what seemed to be the outskirts of Rabat. It definitely was far from being a tourist market and seemed more like a great big garage sale, junk yard, and farmer’s market all in one. It didn’t smell great but it was cool to wander around and look at all the strange things that people were trying to sell. There was a group of terrible actors entertaining a crowd and a medicine man excitedly gesturing and trying to convince an interested crowd that his potions and powders worked miracles. We watched the medicine man for a while because he really was quite entertaining. He would flip wildly through his book of pictures that looked as if they’d been cut out of magazines and show the crowd a picture that was supposed to explain or enforce whatever he was saying. We all left pretty fast when he brought out a strange shaped stick and flipped to a particularly graphic picture of reproductive anatomy. The Yocine and Hassan looked rather embarrassed and claimed to have no idea he what he was talking about… hahah. We went through the food market part and crossed the street to get some air and eat oranges while we waited for the bus. I met a girl there who I haven’t seen at the school before and found out that she is an au pair for a family in Morocco. She said that they paid for her flight, her housing, her weekend trips, and much more. She told me that I should look into it because it’s a cheap way to travel and you get paid on top of it… if you find the right family to work for. 

As soon as we got back, we piled back into the van to go to the American club where they were serving a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. We all came as guests of Malaika, who is an American woman married Adil, the owner of the school.  I sat near another American woman who is married to a Moroccan man and it was interesting to hear their stories about their Moroccan in-laws, the shame of owning a microwave, and how much they missed American milk. I got to speak with Malaika’s friend about what it was like being married to a Moroccan man. She told me that she converted to Islam for him and had to give up some freedoms that she was used to having, but she insisted that their love for each-other was more important than anything that she had to give up. She said that when they first started dating he told her that she had to be home by ten o’clock and she was furious at first but then he convinced her that people who stay out later than that are really only looking for one thing. At this point, a girl sitting across the table from me exchanged glances with me and we had a nice little argument about this generalization. We knew why he would say that but really didn’t agree because we stay out much later than that because that’s when we have time to see friends. In the end we had to agree to disagree and the lady’s main point was that if you love someone you are willing to compromise. I wish I had thought to ask her what her husband compromised on to be with her. I would be curious to hear her answer.

The dinner was top notch, a little over priced but it was authentic Thanksgiving dinner and the pecan pie was almost as good as my Nannie’s ;-) After dinner, most of the group left but a few of us stayed behind to have a drink at the bar and watch the Macy’s day parade on the Air Force channel. Malaika stayed with us and told us about how she had recently taken her kids back home and the airport stopped her from taking them without the signature of their father. Apparently this happened after the new family law was passed which makes it unnecessary for the mother to get the father’s permission to take the kids out of the country. She said she knew she could have fought it, but Adil was still in the airport so she just chased him down. I’ve heard other instances where the law may have changed but it is not enforced. It’s quite disappointing that their system takes so long to switch.  When Malaika took us back to school, I just did a little bit of studying but I really wasn’t in the mood and went back to the house.  I was missing my family a little bit, but right before I went to sleep, I remembered to open a letter that my mom had put in my suitcase. It was full of love and pictures and it really made me smile (thank you mommy!!!).

Friday (26^th) is so far away ago that I’m having a hard time remembering what went on. I do know that we talked about superstitions and how most Moroccans believe in spirits or “Gins” as they are called. My favorite example is the one where he said that if you stay in the shower too long or take too many showers the Gins might get you… yikes! I had no idea there were Gins in the shower! I did a little bit of shopping that night but stayed in to get some work done on my portfolio.

Sunday (28^th), I went shopping with Mama Kaltoum and she tried to help me find boots to keep me warm and dry from the rain. She instructed me not to talk in French or English or else the price would go up immediately. So if I saw something I liked, I would tell her good or bad in Arabic and she would talk to the shop owner. Most of the places she took me to stores that had used shoes and I wasn’t quite brave enough to try them. Plus they weren’t charging much less for them than the new ones in the Medina. We didn’t find any, but we did find a bunch of large oranges to make orange juice with and lots of good fresh veggies for the cous cous so all was good with the world. As long as we have our cous cous, we will survive

:-D …After eating, I went to the train station to go to Sale for the Breakdance battle that Mourad was at. The train didn’t leave until too late so I took a petit taxi to find a grand taxi that would take me to Sale. The petit taxis aren’t supposed to cross the river into Sale but they will for the right price. I couldn’t bargain a good price with him so I just had him leave me with a Grand taxi who was heading in that direction. It was all quite complicated but somehow I made it and Mourad met me at the Sale train station and took me to where the battle was going on.

I could hear the music from outside and saw kids in fitted hats and crazy tennis-shoes walking around. It was definitely an interesting sight. When we walked in, I was hit by the smell of sweat… he introduced me to a girl who is part of his association and he claims is the best at “popping,” she was one of very few girls there. I watched a guy freestyle to old school music that blasted out of an old school boom box. He wore tight jeans, a button down shirt with a sweater on top and converse all-stars. After a little while, the competition was about to start so Mourad had me sit with him and four other guys on a big black couch where they would judge the competition from. I had a blast taking videos of the crazy things that the guys could do. It was really interesting to watch the way the competitors interacted with each other. They would hug each other before and after but still act completely macho while dancing. It was quite amusing when sometimes one of them would get a little upset at the end and a guy, who must have been dubbed the announcer for his naturally deep voice, would basically tell them to have respect and the guys would hug it out. It was great! It really made me miss dancing.

My favorite part was when they made the judges do a demonstration while the dancers rested. Mourad was the last one to be called up… the “announcer” adjusted his top hat (yes he WAS wearing a top hat… possibly a T-Pain imitation) and announced Mourad as “Diablo.” This made Mourad somewhat embarrassed I could tell. He did a couple high power flips and tricks but took it easy because his wrist and ankle are a bit messed up from his latest battle in the Sahara. I also got to see his friend do her popping demonstration and she was really quite good! I asked Mourad why they called him Diablo since his “dancing name” is really Manex. He said that it’s a reference from an American movie and they only called him that because I was there, apparently someone asked him how “Manuella” is doing and they were referring to me because I looked Hispanic or something. I really don’t understand it still so I must need to see the movie to get it.

Right before the final round we ended up leaving because someone stole another person’s bag and the atmosphere became a little tense. Plus, it was getting late and I needed to do some shopping in the Medina before I went home. Mourad and I crammed into a cab where I was practically sitting on these two ladies’ laps but it was a short ride across the river and we walked the rest of the way to the Souk. The snail stands were especially pungent that night and people crowded around the boiling pots of escargot… I can’t help but wonder what is so appetizing about these creatures that I constantly find on the ground beneath my feet…… blech! We found a nice street stand and ate there, I’m not sure what it was, but we ate it. It was a lovely mix of chopped up meat, spices and maybe peppers too that were grilled then put into bread and covered in some kind of red tomato sauce. While we were eating, we ran into some people from the competition who came up and said hi to us. One guy pounded knuckles with Mourad and turned to me to do the same thing but said that girls do it from the side… this was new to me and I completely messed it up of course but at least I know to pound it from the side in the future. What a relief! Hahah

We didn’t have much luck shopping and it rained on us quite a lot but I didn’t mind because it was at least warmer than the last few days. We took shelter in a perfume shop and Mourad started talking to a Japanese man who worked behind the counter. The man had really long hair and an American accent so I became rather interested in the conversation as well. It turns out that he has family in Japan but was raised in California and has lived all over the place. He has converted to Islam and is trying to make his life in Morocco more permanent because he loves the pace of Moroccan life and the attitude of Moroccan people. Mourad kept plying him with questions about Japan but the guy really didn’t seem to be fond of talking about his country of origin. He would only say how crazy life is in Japan and people bottle up their emotions there so they go crazy almost. It was quite interesting.

After being thoroughly soaked in the medina, we headed back for me to catch a cab and commenced yet another of our religious debates. For some reason I began crying because I was so frustrated by not just our conversation but also because I was tired and stressed out. I always get stupid and emotional when I’m tired and stressed… it sucks. Mourad was devastated that he made me cry and said that I needed to go home lol We shared the cab part way home and he got out before my neighborhood and said goodnight. I didn’t know at that time, but he ended up walking the rest of the way home (about an hour and a half walk) in the rain. I think it was because he didn’t have enough change for the cab. Now I felt awful… it wasn’t the greatest end to the night.

OH BABY!

        Monday (the 22nd of November), was a tiring day. I was exhausted and in no mood to go to class. It was a bad Arabic day for me too for some reason. Despite all the studying and the massive amounts of vocab I had learned over the weekend, I had a hard time putting even three words together. I've decided that my brain must have been in overload mode and going on strike from learning for the day. I did get some rest though and I decided to take Mourad up on his invitation to a "Baby Party" that evening. I'm not exactly sure what the actual name is for this type of party, but I had heard about it from Khadija when she was telling us about culture and traditions in Morocco. It's like a baby shower that tons of family and friends attend... and I heard that when Moroccans throw a party, they do it big :D I thought it would be a good cultural experience and a welcome break from studying while I knew I would have to practice some Arabic there so it was an easy decision. He met me in Yousseffia and we walked all the way there since we had plenty of time and the weather was nice. I asked him how long we would be there since I didn't want to be out too late because of school in the morning. He said that we could stay as long as I liked but probably about 2 hours or so. This must be what they call "Moroccan time" because the party started at 8:00 and somehow I didn't leave until almost 1:00 a.m. 

        As we got got closer to the house we saw cars parked everywhere and the amount of children playing in the street increased as we neared the door. Mourad was immediately tackled by a little girl who was the child of a cousin I think, and after receiving a plethora of kisses she happily skipped away. We walked past the door of the house and over to a big tent set up on the side of the road (on the sidewalk) where men were setting up chairs and instruments and I got introduced to more cousins than I could count. Many of them started speaking Arabic with me and were confused when I didn't understand them, Mourad said that I looked Moroccan to them. Since nobody was sitting yet, we went into the house which was apartment style and many levels where I think various branches of the family lived. After about four flights of stairs I was kissed and hugged by a line of random ladies that were leaving a small room, after passing them, we headed into the room and I met Mourad's mom, sister, aunt and some other random old lady. The brought out tea and I attempted to speak with them while Mourad went to the corner of the room to "ooh and ahhh" over the new baby. Before I had time to object, the baby was given to me and I was told to kiss it. I gave it a fake kiss and played with it's tiny feet for a minute and handed it back... baby's scare me. I must say that this baby was absolutely angelic looking and beautiful, I could look at it all day.

        After a little while, we went back downstairs and Mourad told me to go with his sister and mom. I didn't want to be away from him, but I did it anyways since I knew he probably wanted to hang out with the guys and even in family parties the men and women keep pretty segregated. I went and sat with his mom and all the old ladies. It was really rather boring since his mom only spoke darija and my darija is limited to a few numbers, "okay," "thank you very much," "cold," and "lets go." So we were more amused by watching the little boys take turns bravely running up to the microphone, saying something, and running back to the group to giggle and look around to see people's reactions to their antics. Unfortunately for the boys, the old ladies were indifferent and not very reactionary so the most attention they got was when their fathers would run into the tent and scold them from time to time. Mourad poked his head in to check on me every once in a while and I smiled and nodded like I was having a great time but secretly hoping he would give me a reason to get up and walk around. The tent began to fill up around 9:00 and the band set up at about 10:00... I was sitting for a loooong time. The band was very good; I learned later that the singer was a good friend of the baby's father and had come from Spain with the family to celebrate with them. The family with the new baby is from Spain... sorry, I forgot to mention that. I was surprised to see a few ladies get up and dance, and these women shook their stuff if you know what I mean :-P ...I had more fun watching a little boy near the front look in amazement and confusion at one rather large lady's rear as she danced near him like it was the strangest thing he had seen in his life. Hilarious! Some of the men got up and danced together and for a few short minutes the parents of the baby danced with the singer. It was very fun to watch. I also wondered what was going on when many of the women, old and young, would run up to the singer with 20 DH bills and stick them in his collar! I learned later that this is just a sign that they really enjoyed his singing... not some indecent proposition ;-)

        After quite a bit of this there was a break where Mourad's sister came and rescued me. We went to a little room in the house littered with shoes, clothes, kaftans, purses... I think they must be using it as a changing room for the party. She got me water and I talked a little bit easier with her than I did with her mother because she knew a little more Fursa and a little bit of French. Every once in a while, a family member would pop their head into the room and say hello to us and try to converse in whatever language came to mind, I had a few people come in and say "hola!" to me which really caught me off guard. When I commented on how beautiful one woman's Kaftan was, Fatiha (Mourad's sister) offered to give me her Kaftan but luckily at the time I didn't understand what she was offering and didn't take it with me. Mourad informed me later what she was trying to do and I told him to thank her for me but I couldn't possibly take something like that! Yikes! I started to get restless and wished I knew where Mourad was. It was getting really late and I wasn't sure if I could find a taxi very easily if it got much later. Eventually Mourad and his cousin that he calls "The crazy one in the family" waltzed in and talked for a while until someone said that we would eat soon. I turned to Mourad and said that I needed to go and I needed sleep to which he looked confused and asked if I didn't want to eat. It's almost unheard of for someone to visit a Moroccan home and not eat, but I had already had a full dinner with the Marouazis and was not hungry at all. I also felt bad eating and leaving right away. Mourad decided that this was a good time to tell me that the party goes on all night and nobody sleeps... wow! I told him that I had to get sleep for school and I really had to go but somehow, a little while later, I ended up in the dining room crammed between his sister and a large boisterous aunt with a Tagine and bread in front of me. I took a few bites and ate slowly to make it look like I was eating more but I was being watched too closely and my cover was blown by the boisterous aunt who ordered someone to bring me a plate because she thought I didn't want to eat from the same dish as all of them! I was SOOOO embarrassed because that was NOT the impression I wanted to give them. I knew the food was hot and good and I'm used to eating out of the same tagine as my host family but my limited darija and acting skills failed to convey to them that I had already eaten and really wasn't hungry! Boisterous aunt took it upon herself to carve up my meat for me and pile it on my plate while continuously ordering me to "eat eat!". Finally when the Tagine was finished and all scraps were stuffed in bread and the ladies' purses (I kid you not... they put leftovers in their purses!), Mourad leaned forward and with a mischievous smile, he informed me that it was time for the second course! I laughed and sarcastically said "Oh good! because I'm so so hungry!" ...I didn't think he was serious about the second course thing... but he was... and boisterous aunt made sure I ate it. I almost thought that I would die from my stomach exploding.

        Finally when they were done force feeding me the third course of fruit, I was given a gift box full of cookies and was able to escape out the door. Mourad's uncle or cousin and another girl were kind enough to drive me back to Yousseffia and despite my protests, Mourad walked me to my street to make sure I was safe. I did some homework and went to sleep around 2:00... what a night.

        On Tuesday (23rd) I was strangely alert and able to function. We also had a pretty interesting conversation in class about drugs and alcohol since we were learning food and drink vocabulary. Our teacher, Hassan, is really good at talking about interesting subjects in Arabic but in very simple vocabulary that we understand. It is really helping me learn more vocabulary because I can hear him say things in context. He told us that many Muslims believe that alcohol is forbidden, a small amount think it's not forbidden, and a good amount of them just don't know or don't care. According to him, there is room for interpretation or misinterpretation because the matter is rather unclear in general. He doesn't drink because he believes that the prophet specifically instructed his followers to steer clear of things that intoxicate (alcohol, drugs etc..) mainly for health and self control reasons. He says that the teachings are more specific that say Muslims are forbidden to enter into prayer while intoxicated because they are unable to think clearly. This makes more sense because if Muslims pray five times per day, they wouldn't have much time to actually be intoxicated if they did drink. Very interesting stuff...

        I really didn't do much that day other than catch up on work and I stayed late at school to talk to my crazy family on skype for a little while. I'm still unsure on whether I should forgive them for going to Florida to see my Nannie and Pappa without me. It's just not cool people :( ...It was so good to talk to them and hear their voices though, it has been weird to not talk to them much while I'm here.

        On Wednesday (24th) we had yet another good discussion in class but this one included everything from why they don't eat pigs to how many Muslims believe in evolution, or at least some sort of man existing before Adam and Eve. Forgive me if I completely mess this up, but they think that the Angels were begging God not to make Adam which leads them to think that there must have been man before Adam. I'm sure I'm missing part of the story here but that's about all I got from it. That evening I went out with Mourad to meet up with his cousin and his cousin's wife for the evening. They would be leaving for Spain in a few days and wanted to meet me since they hadn't gotten to really meet me at the party for their baby. The four of us plus their 6 or 7 year old boy and the baby crammed into their little car and I attempted to speak Arabic with the wife. The Arabic was immediately deemed useless when she didn't understand a word I said. Mourad said that she doesn't speak Fursa and only a little Darija because she is Spanish and not Moroccan. So I wracked my poor brain for all the Spanish I had learned when I was little so that I could talk to her. I was surprised at how much I remembered and even more surprised at how much I understood. I never thought I'd say this, but thank you dad for speaking Spanish all the time, listening to Spanish music and programming your navigator in the car to speak Spanish. I am very grateful now. I found out that they live in Toledo and we realized that we had very similar taste in actors since she LOVES American films... her favorite is Denzel Washington! New Best Friend!
        We went to the Mega Mall for a while and just talked about a million different subjects in a million different languages. We would go from Spanish to Arabic to French and then their little boy would throw in a little English here and there because he was VERY proud of the fact that he is in English classes. I got along very well with the little boy and we would take turns tapping each other on the shoulder and pretending it wasn't us. That's always a fun game ;-D We talked about religion a little bit and I learned that the wife is not Muslim but is studying it because she wants to be Muslim like her husband. It was interesting to hear her point of view though I had a feeling that she was trying to convince me that Muslims are not bad people which is not something I need to be convinced of after living with and becoming friends with so many of them :) After talking for a while, another cousin and his wife showed up and we all walked around the mall for a little bit then they decided we needed to go out to eat (even though it was 9:30). I told Mourad that I wasn't hungry but I would tag along as long as I didn't get home too late. Silly me, when we got to the restaurant I was force-fed yet again. I should have expected it though. Mourad told me that I should order something or they might order something for me. I ordered a chwarma because it was the cheapest thing on the menu and I had a feeling that I would not be allowed to pay. I still got a salad in front of me somehow because I guess the schwarma wasn't enough food for me. Even though I insisted that I had already eaten dinner, they must have been convinced that I was really starving. The shwarma wasn't very good and they passed around my plate so everyone could try it and agree on how bad it was. This launched a debate on who makes the best shwarma, I insisted that it was the Lebanese and Mourad's older cousin said that Turkish shwarma was much better. We agreed to disagree and they commenced the great fight over the bill. There was money thrown down by all people and when change was dispersed, Mourad and I got ALL our money back and eventually with much bribing of the waiter, the older cousin and his wife ended up paying the whole bill. It was quite amusing. They got me home at a decent hour this time so I was able to get a little more sleep... yayyyy :D I really do love Moroccan families, they make anyone feel welcome and like part of the family. They are so much more strongly connected and involved in each other's lives which at times is a little overwhelming but very cool.