I haven't blogged in a while. For over a week we had no internet, and then after that I typed one blog about learning the language but somewhere in between my computer and the world wide web, the contents were lost in cyber space, probably due to a bad internet connection. So I gritted (grit?) my teeth and wrote it again only to have my computer decide to do something to the file so it's not able to be opened. So I haven't written a language blog again yet because it doesn't seem like it's meant to be.
I'll say this about Arabic: I've had 4 full weeks of learning Arabic and am doing very well. I can say very simple paragraphs and convey ideas to my family without too much effort. More importantly, I am understanding more and more of what they say and using fewer and fewer hand gestures. This is great. I think of vocabulary like an arsenal. Every time I speak and am able to pull a word from my head it's like one bullet. The smaller my vocabulary, the sooner I run out of bullets and have to use miming or just forget about it. So now I'm getting the grammar, but more more importantly, I'm building my vocabulary. I have another few weeks of language training before they send me into the unknown.
Speaking of my permanent site: The way Peace Corps works is that you spend the first two or three months training in one city and go through a series of interviews with Moroccan staff and they choose to place you in a different part of the country after training, where you live for two years, serving the people of those town. I have now had two interviews with the PC Youth Development Moroccan staff about where I might be placed for my permanent site and I have a feeling I have secured myself a spot in the desert. I don't know for sure but they asked me what my preferences were and I told them Preference #1 was I wanted to be in an Arabic speaking region. I had joked with my family before I got here about the Berber languages but that is actually a real possibility. But I would really rather stick to Arabic, and not Tashelgheit or Tamazhit. So I told PC that I would go anywhere, as long as I could continue learning Arabic. They seemed fine with that, because most Youth Development sites are Arabic. It's more the health and agriculture sectors that learn Tash or Tam. Then I said my #2 preference after Arabic was that I didn't want to be cold. I told them that I would rather have heat any day than cold. And they said "So what about the Sahara?" and I said "fine with me." So then I talked around with other trainees and most of them had preferenced NOT being in the heat. They even had a section of a questionnaire that said "what's one thing you can't live without" and one of my training site mates wrote "mountains." So I really hope that I do get a southern province like Zagora. The YD volunteers there are learning Arabic and it can get to 140 degrees in the summer outside during the day, and doesn't drop below 50 or 60 in the winter. I'd take 120 degrees over 20 degrees any day. On October 29th I'll find out my permanent site for the next two years
Talk of Taxis:
Last weekend I went to Fes just for fun, but the harrowing 90 minute taxi ride leaves much to comment on. The taxi ride to Fes is the scariest thing I ever do. I should probably not even tell you about it. It's always an old-ish (1990s) mercedes benz sedan. And a full car, according to Moroccan law, is 4 in the back and 2 passengers in the front, plus the driver. And no it's not a bench seat. So that makes 7 per sedan. What's a seat belt?? A taxi driver will not leave unless it has six passengers, unless you want to pay for an extra seat. Tight squeeze to say the least. The roads, at least, are in good condition, but most of the way it's two lanes and they, of course, pass people.(Though most taxi drivers do a good job of making sure they can see when they pass.) But what stresses me is that they'll pass somebody but just chill out in the left lane for a good while until they see that there's on-coming traffic. I don't know why they don't just get back over right away. And sometimes they just cruise into the left lane for sport. And in the case that there are three lanes- the middle one seems to go both ways, though I think it does have an assigned direction. Red lights are a good suggestion, but they function more like stop signs. I can never sleep in these taxi rides. I keep my eyes wide open and say "mashi doble, aafak" which means "do not even think about passing while we're on this curve!" (ok, it doesn't really say that, I can only say "no pass, please. But my intonation gets the point across.) My comrades always sleep through it. I'm just too much of a control freak for that.
Fes was very fun. We roughed it a little. It was a fine hotel. It was only 50 d's a person (about $6). There was no shower, but there was a toilet and sink at the end of the hall. Also I have about a billion ant bites in various clusters now. My blanket? Maybe. I didn't feel them biting me so they are not fire ants or anything but I'm definitely going to check my bed next time I stay in such a "budget friendly" hotel.
We spent hours wandering the twists and turns of the old medina and visited the tanneries where leather is dyed and stretched. I bought some earrings since I left all mine in the states. I am not so good at bargaining but I'm getting there. It's incredible what a difference speaking Moroccan Arabic makes in the prices we're offered. For example, Hannah, another PC Trainee whom we met up with in Fes, wanted to buy a leather purse outside the tannery. We talked to the shopkeeper in a little Darija (Moroccan Arabic). She asked how much the purse cost and he said 500 Ds. (or $63) And Hannah was like "no way, jose" And started bargaining. And after walking away a few times and always being called back by the shop keeper, she got him down to 350D ($44). Still expensive for a PC volunteer but it's a nice quality leather bag that she'll have forever. So she said "ok that's fine." So then we were talking with the shopkeeper, completely in Arabic, about how we're working in Morocco, about Peace Corps and that we make Dirhams, not dollars. and when Hannah got to the register and paid, the shopkeeper gave her back 50 D, and said 300 was fine. So he pulled his own price down! I'm sure that's unheard of, and I think it's because we were speaking his language-- not even modern standard Arabic.
As soon as I find an internet connection fast enough to upload photos in under a few hours, I will post photos to my facebook of all this and then post an open link here.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
This was my first full weekend in my village and it was full of interesting bits.
MAKING BREAD
Saturday morning we had school (we have school every day but Sunday). Luckily, Saturdays are half days, so we were only there 8:30 - 2:00 or so, and that includes our 1.5hr lunch break. So after class I went home and hung with my host family. This was exciting because for the first time in my life I hand made bread!! The dough was made like typical bread, I think, and I mushed it around in a big heavy, authentically ethnic bowl. I was mashing and punching and kneading for probably half an hour! And my host sisters would laugh from time to time and grab the dough from me, mush it around correctly, and then give it back. They truly must wonder how I survived in the U.S. Either they think it's a miracle or they believed I pay somebody to make meals and do my laundry for me. So anyway, I mixed tons of flour, water, and another flour-like powder together, and then when the dough was ready we made little dough balls, which, according to my sisters, were all subpar, but they showed me how to do it and I improved. Then I took a dough ball and made it into a big round circle that looked like it could become a really thin pizza. Then I spread some kind of wheaty looking, granulated substance on it (yeast?) and folded my circle into a square. Then Hasna, my host sister, used a TON of oil to fry the dough and instead of bake it, it becomes fried bread called "bsmn." (no, I didn't forget the vowels; they are not there.) Making bread by hand made me appreciate how much work goes into it. It made me feel like a more worthwhile humanbeing.
KARATE CLASS
After that eventful afternoon I went to Karate class. All of us except one have decided to enroll in a Karate class together. I would say it's less karate and more a kickboxing aerobic class. I'm getting exercise AND three hot showers a week. Though the studio only has 1 locker room so the girls go first and we have about five minutes to get in and out. But I'm much cleaner than I was the first two weeks. They say gaining weight during training is inevitable just because of the amazing amounts of food we eat. But I would say we are fighting it!
SUNDAY
THE HAMMAM
So Sunday I had my first hmmam experience! The Hmmam is the public bathhouse in Morocco. They seem to exist in every muslim country. Women and men both go. (though on separate sides, of course) and you pay a little to get in and then it's like a hot steam room and you stay for sometimes 2 hours (!) and bathe. So we go, it's 9DH per person, which is about $1.10. It's exactly what you'd picture a bathhouse to look like. There are three rooms. One that is kind of steamy, one that is very steamy, and one that is not steamy at all. The middle room, the steamy one, has two wells of water that are constantly flowing. One well has extremely hot water, and one has luke warm water. There were women there of all shapes and sizes. And everyone wears underwear, but just the bottoms. Being completely naked is "shooma" (shameful). So nobody bathes at the hmmam completely naked. So from what I gather, you sit there and scrub and wash and splash around in really hot water for a few hours. You use this sandpaper-like glove to scrub yourself and if you're doing it right you watch your skin slough off all around you. So I'm just splashing around and then the woman who works there comes up to me and offers to scrub me down. This is what she's paid to do. It costs extra, like 15 DH ($2.00) but she lays you down on a ledge and gives you a full scrub and massage. It felt really good and she sure got all my dead skin off, but it was really uncomfortable because throughout the whole process she was talking to me about becoming a Muslim. They warned us that people would try to convert us as soon as we began to gather the vocabulary to converse and so I guess that has begun. This woman at the hmmam is probably between 18 and 20 and very friendly but she just kept trying to get me to say the Shahadda, which is something along the lines of "Allah is the only God and Muhammad is his prophet" and apparently that's the beginning of the conversion process and we're not supposed to say it. I get that she loves her faith and is trying to share it with me but it was just uncomfortable because I don't have the language to say "no thanks, I'm not interested" without sounding rude.
MORE CONVERSION TALKS/WEDDINGS
So during my hmmam experience, the woman who works there was also telling me that she has two brothers that she would really like me to marry, and that my brother should marry her. She was completely serious too. It's a tough situation to be in when you don't have much vocabulary. Marriage is CONSTANTLY a topic here. Not a meal goes by that my host mother doesn't mention me marrying a Moroccan, most favorably, her son Hosin, who is 26 and still not married. He lives in Rabat. She is constantly talking about how fun a wedding would be and we'd slaughter a couple cows and it would be great. I try to take it as a compliment and not let it get to me. She knows that I think it's funny and not gonna happen, so we laugh about it together, but I really don't think she's kidding. So today when we were hanging outside with some neighbors, the women across the street told me I needed to marry a Muslim while I'm in Morocco so that I can become a Muslim. And then this neighbor ran inside her house and came out with a Ko'ran and gave it to me! I didn't know what to say! I took it of course because she really wanted me to have it, but I really hope this doesn't lead to more conversion talks. I realize that it probably will but soon I'll have the language to say something other than "Inshallah." I completely understand that they are well-intentioned but it is still very strange.
THE WATER
Last thing-- during the middle of the day today we suddenly had no running water. Nobody on our street had water either. So Hasna (my sister), and I walked with buckets to a well and fetched our water. I wanted to know WHY we didn't have any water. And I know the words for "there is no water. why?" and the response always seemed inconclusive. Eventually I figured out that they were basically saying "well, you know, sometimes the water goes out and there is no 'why'." And nobody panicked or called the city. They just went to the well. And then in the afternoon the water was back on and all was running smoothly again and I got to handwash some of my laundry.
MAKING BREAD
Saturday morning we had school (we have school every day but Sunday). Luckily, Saturdays are half days, so we were only there 8:30 - 2:00 or so, and that includes our 1.5hr lunch break. So after class I went home and hung with my host family. This was exciting because for the first time in my life I hand made bread!! The dough was made like typical bread, I think, and I mushed it around in a big heavy, authentically ethnic bowl. I was mashing and punching and kneading for probably half an hour! And my host sisters would laugh from time to time and grab the dough from me, mush it around correctly, and then give it back. They truly must wonder how I survived in the U.S. Either they think it's a miracle or they believed I pay somebody to make meals and do my laundry for me. So anyway, I mixed tons of flour, water, and another flour-like powder together, and then when the dough was ready we made little dough balls, which, according to my sisters, were all subpar, but they showed me how to do it and I improved. Then I took a dough ball and made it into a big round circle that looked like it could become a really thin pizza. Then I spread some kind of wheaty looking, granulated substance on it (yeast?) and folded my circle into a square. Then Hasna, my host sister, used a TON of oil to fry the dough and instead of bake it, it becomes fried bread called "bsmn." (no, I didn't forget the vowels; they are not there.) Making bread by hand made me appreciate how much work goes into it. It made me feel like a more worthwhile humanbeing.
KARATE CLASS
After that eventful afternoon I went to Karate class. All of us except one have decided to enroll in a Karate class together. I would say it's less karate and more a kickboxing aerobic class. I'm getting exercise AND three hot showers a week. Though the studio only has 1 locker room so the girls go first and we have about five minutes to get in and out. But I'm much cleaner than I was the first two weeks. They say gaining weight during training is inevitable just because of the amazing amounts of food we eat. But I would say we are fighting it!
SUNDAY
THE HAMMAM
So Sunday I had my first hmmam experience! The Hmmam is the public bathhouse in Morocco. They seem to exist in every muslim country. Women and men both go. (though on separate sides, of course) and you pay a little to get in and then it's like a hot steam room and you stay for sometimes 2 hours (!) and bathe. So we go, it's 9DH per person, which is about $1.10. It's exactly what you'd picture a bathhouse to look like. There are three rooms. One that is kind of steamy, one that is very steamy, and one that is not steamy at all. The middle room, the steamy one, has two wells of water that are constantly flowing. One well has extremely hot water, and one has luke warm water. There were women there of all shapes and sizes. And everyone wears underwear, but just the bottoms. Being completely naked is "shooma" (shameful). So nobody bathes at the hmmam completely naked. So from what I gather, you sit there and scrub and wash and splash around in really hot water for a few hours. You use this sandpaper-like glove to scrub yourself and if you're doing it right you watch your skin slough off all around you. So I'm just splashing around and then the woman who works there comes up to me and offers to scrub me down. This is what she's paid to do. It costs extra, like 15 DH ($2.00) but she lays you down on a ledge and gives you a full scrub and massage. It felt really good and she sure got all my dead skin off, but it was really uncomfortable because throughout the whole process she was talking to me about becoming a Muslim. They warned us that people would try to convert us as soon as we began to gather the vocabulary to converse and so I guess that has begun. This woman at the hmmam is probably between 18 and 20 and very friendly but she just kept trying to get me to say the Shahadda, which is something along the lines of "Allah is the only God and Muhammad is his prophet" and apparently that's the beginning of the conversion process and we're not supposed to say it. I get that she loves her faith and is trying to share it with me but it was just uncomfortable because I don't have the language to say "no thanks, I'm not interested" without sounding rude.
MORE CONVERSION TALKS/WEDDINGS
So during my hmmam experience, the woman who works there was also telling me that she has two brothers that she would really like me to marry, and that my brother should marry her. She was completely serious too. It's a tough situation to be in when you don't have much vocabulary. Marriage is CONSTANTLY a topic here. Not a meal goes by that my host mother doesn't mention me marrying a Moroccan, most favorably, her son Hosin, who is 26 and still not married. He lives in Rabat. She is constantly talking about how fun a wedding would be and we'd slaughter a couple cows and it would be great. I try to take it as a compliment and not let it get to me. She knows that I think it's funny and not gonna happen, so we laugh about it together, but I really don't think she's kidding. So today when we were hanging outside with some neighbors, the women across the street told me I needed to marry a Muslim while I'm in Morocco so that I can become a Muslim. And then this neighbor ran inside her house and came out with a Ko'ran and gave it to me! I didn't know what to say! I took it of course because she really wanted me to have it, but I really hope this doesn't lead to more conversion talks. I realize that it probably will but soon I'll have the language to say something other than "Inshallah." I completely understand that they are well-intentioned but it is still very strange.
THE WATER
Last thing-- during the middle of the day today we suddenly had no running water. Nobody on our street had water either. So Hasna (my sister), and I walked with buckets to a well and fetched our water. I wanted to know WHY we didn't have any water. And I know the words for "there is no water. why?" and the response always seemed inconclusive. Eventually I figured out that they were basically saying "well, you know, sometimes the water goes out and there is no 'why'." And nobody panicked or called the city. They just went to the well. And then in the afternoon the water was back on and all was running smoothly again and I got to handwash some of my laundry.
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