The Concept of Hshuma

This entry will be about what is polite and acceptable in Moroccan society and how it can be almost comically different from what we'd think of in the U.S. as polite. What's important to understand is the concept of "Hshuma." It means "shameful" and is not as serious as something that is Haram. Something "haram" is kind of like something that is an abomination, or not kosher. Specifically, these are practices that are outlawed in the Koran. As one 14-year-old put it so even an Arabic beginner like me could understand, Haram is sin in the eyes of God and Hshuma is sin in the eyes of people.

Now begins the contrast.

What isn't Hshuma in the U.S. but is Hshuma here:

- blowing your nose. The Moroccan people would rather have you sniffling all day long than see or hear you blow your nose. Nothing could be grosser to these people. Blowing your nose at the dinner table might well cause your Moroccan host to not be able to eat. This is something I struggle with as being someone always plagued by bad sinuses. Sometimes I just have to commit the Hshuma act and do it anyway. For example, on Monday I was taking a bus to my town from Errachidia. It was freezing and I was not feeling well. I figured these people will just get over it and I blew my nose more than a few times on that five-hour bus ride full of cigarette smoke and dust. Some people did the half-turn around like "eew, who's this disgusting foreigner" but they'll just have to move on with their lives and get over it.

- Women laughing or talking loudly in the street: I don't want to explain this one because I don't like it. But in my particularly conservative city of Morocco, women do not laugh in public. They stay stoic as statues while walking in the streets. I guess it's seen as improper to show such blatant emotion in mixed company on a public street. I fail at this one too.

- Married women traveling alone: This is Hshuma because, according to one man I talked to, she must be up to no good since there should be no reason she'd even want to travel without her husband. I don't think that this is a universal Hshuma in Morocco.

- Any mixed gender friendships are generally looked down upon except among people you've known since you were really young. Then you refer to them like "xuya" (brother) or "xti" (sister).

- Smoking: Whether it's cigarettes or hashish or shishah (hookah) all are most definitely regarded as Hshuma and some people would argue that they are Haram. The funny thing is that I would say that at least 80% of men in my city smoke, but they only do so in the cafes, not at home around the women where it would be considered disrespectful. The women all tell me that their husbands (or sons, if this is a match making situation) don't smoke, no sir. But I always want to laugh because later I'll meet their husbands (or sons) who will absolutely reek of cigarette smoke. A woman who smokes is going to be given the label of prostitute -- no arguments. Women DO NOT smoke...at least not where anybody can see.

- Not taking your shoes off on the carpet: Carpets are clean spaces because 1) they're expensive and 2) that is where people pray. When praying, it must be on a clean space, so people pray on carpets. Therefore, ALWAYS take your shoes off on the carpet.

- Announcing that you're going to the restroom: If you say that's where you're going it gets weird and awkward. You're supposed to just go. We all know where you're going and nobody will ask.

I'm sure there are other things that are Hshuma in Morocco but not in the U.S. that maybe I just haven't figured out yet. Maybe I even commit them. Hopefully if I am making serious cultural errors without knowing it, someone will enlighten me.

Now for the (longer) list of things that are Hshuma for the U.S. but not Hshuma here:

- Spitting on the street in public: I'm talking men hawking big loogies within arms reach of somebody else. Even in mixed company this is fine. I've even seen women spit on the street, though not as frequently. And I can't blow my nose???

- Belching: People are free to burp right at the dinner table or anywhere else they please. Sometimes while talking close to your face and in the middle of a sentence. It's not considered rude at all. Afterwards they may say "LHamdullah" which means roughly "Thank you Lord!" This often makes me want to gag, but that's probably how they feel about my nose blowing.

- Sneezing/Coughing without covering your mouth: This one is difficult for me to stomach as well, especially because I will often get showered with the ocean spray of other people's germs. This may exist in my city because we have a relatively low level of education. I was able to teach my host sisters to please not cough in my face and explain to them that millions of germs fly out at a thousand miles an hour and will get me sick. After you sneeze you say "lHamdullah" because, according to one 11-year-old, your heart stops when you sneeze and you say "lHamdullah" so that it starts again. That might just be a child's thing to say though.

- Scratching: men scratch wherever they want, whenever they want, all the time. Even just walking down the street. Women scratch wherever they feel the need, as long as they are not with mixed company and behind closed doors.

- Licking your fingers during/after a meal: This, at first, grossed me out since it makes horrible smacking noises. But I have since embraced it and find it a delicious way to end a meal.

- Talking with your mouth full: This still grosses me out. Especially if you're talking with your mouth full, within one foot of my face and let out a large belch. Though I'm always impressed that this never seems to dampen the conversation -- at least on their end.

- A little body odor never hurt anyone: I don't want this to be too much of an insulting blog post, but it is true. There is no expectation of changing your clothes every day and most people do not wear deodorant, so a little body odor is a natural occurrence. To tell you the truth, it is bothering me less and less, as long as we're not in closed quarters. It's kind of a relief to not have to change my clothes every day. You wouldn't either if you were hand-washing everything. I don't think I smell though, I shower twice a week which is more than enough in this dry, and still wintery, desert community. Most people shower once a week.

- Cutting in line: this is kind of a joke because I often find myself thinking "Line? What line?" A "line" is what you make of it. The few times I have tried to form a line in my brain out of a group of people I end up not moving anywhere, as people just get in front of me. It has been difficult to feel comfortable with just worming my way to the front like the rest of them, but nobody seems to mind. I often get helped first because I'm a foreigner. Nobody seems too upset about this because people accept this as a reality of whatever social station they were born into. Almost like it was their destiny to be helped at the post office after me. Pre-ordained destiny is a huge belief in this culture. While this is good for me when trying to get bureaucratic things done, this is not good from a development standpoint and an equal rights standpoint. I hear people get testier about this during Ramadan, though, when everybody is hungry. This coming Ramadan begins on August 1st, where it will still be 120 degrees outside and everyone will be starving and the men will be nicotine deprived.

-Not introducing someone you're with to someone else you happen to run into: If you're walking along the street with a friend and run into another friend, you're not expected to introduce your two friends to each other. They can do that themselves if they so desire. I got "Hshuma-ed" (I usually use it as a verb when I'm speaking English) big time the other day for introducing a girl I was walking with to a male student from the Dar Chebab. Afterward she said ":Hshuma, Abigail, I can't be seen talking to teenage boys...." Oh well, live and learn. The people here are very patient with me.

- Calling a million times in a row: Unfortunately, Moroccan girls and guys think that it's OK to call you over and over and over again if you don't answer. As if I didn't see your missed call the first time around. I have gotten Hshuma-ed through text message for rejecting calls while in a meeting. It's like I'm their lifeline on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire and I'm not answering the phone; that is the fervor with which they call repeatedly. This is not just for me either, they seem to call each other like this too.

- Not brushing your teeth: I haven't figured out what the toothbrushing protocol here is, but it is most certainly not expected daily.


- Inviting yourself over: In fact, it's Hshuma to NOT invite yourself over. That is the way that somebody shows they are interested in being your friend -- they come over, unannounced, usually around lunch time or tea time in the afternoon. It's considered friendly and neighborly. Then you and your guest sit and have tea or lunch and spend a few hours together. This is probably my favorite freedom of this culture. I never feel like I am intruding and am always perfectly welcome. Though I still struggle with inviting myself over. I get Hshuma-ed sometimes for not coming over and they always say the same thing "Do you know the way to get here? Yes? Then where have you been!? Hshuma!" This will probably make me a much better hostess when I'm back states-side. I also have the benefit of living in a closed apartment complex where people cannot invite themselves into my apartment. Best of both worlds, though quite selfish of me.


I'm sure I will uncover more of these cultural intricacies over the next year and ten months. (I just passed the 4-months-in-country mark! Already!?) I'll add to the list as I discover new things!

I know I promised meal time etiquette, but I was inspired to write this first. I promise I will work on a blog for mealtime etiquette for the next entry.

a place of my own!

Happy New Year!

I am celebrating by being in my very own Moroccan apartment! bwaHedi! ("by myself") Usually when I tell people who ask,that I live alone they all say "aw, mskina! (poor thing!)" And invite me to live with them. They can't imagine anybody WANTING to live alone, and when I tell them that they just look at me weird like "well....whatever....weirdo...."

It is in the center of town, not far from the Dar Chebab (the youth center where I work.) The downside of that is that everybody knows where I live but it has helped me when I've gotten lost. It's on the second floor. Since it's the same apartment Melanie (the previous volunteer) had, it's fully furnished. It has running water and electricity. The electricity has been quite reliable, though I don't have it every morning.

Occasionally I do not have running water in the morning and I think I have figured out that it's because morning is a peak time for water and people are using it and the water doesn't actually make it to my tap. I'm figuring this out because when I do have water in the morning the pressure is really really low. Shower: I have a shower! But don't think of shower in terms of the type you're used to. I mean that I have a working shower head. So I still shower over the "toilet" (which is the turkish toilet I have previously described). So consequently you get water EVERYWHERE, but the floors are all tile and there are drains so it doesn't really matter. I have yet to take a shower where the water doesn't cut out in the middle. I've figured out that the shower is very demanding of the water pressure and if my across-the-hall neighbor turns on his tap, my shower stops running. But I just patiently wait and eventually my shower water comes back. I even have a hot water heater. These are a luxury and very few people have them. This one was installed by the volunteer before Melanie. Good ones cost about 1000 dirhams, which is half a month's salary or more for most people. And it's not like you can go to Sears and get on a payment plan. I'm really living quite luxuriously. I share the propane tank that heats the shower water with the across-the-hall neighbor, so I don't overuse it because it's really heavy and replacing it is a pain. I'm still on a two-shower-a-week program and it will probably stay like that, at least until it's summer. When it's 120+ degrees here though I probably won't be worrying much about hot water.


My apartment has two rooms. One is the bedroom and the other could be a bedroom, but instead it serves more as a living room/office. The bedroom is probably 10ft x 10ft or so and equipped with a twin bed. This is the first bed I've slept in in Morocco! It's very "western" of me to have. I'm glad I brought the set of twin sheets that I did. I'm also glad I didn't waste luggage space on a comforter because I have lots of blankets that Melanie left. My "dresser" consists of old vegetable crates stacked to resemble shelves.

The other room has a hip-high table that is my desk with some books and papers. The room also features two low ponges, which are like thick mats, just a few inches high on the floor. These are poor Moroccan couches. It is more common to sit on the floor here than it was in the Fes region. I have two small carpets made from ram skins from previously eaten Eid Kbir rams. I will be bringing those back with me to the states, if possible. They are so soft! There's also a cute green coffee table. It serves as the table where I eat all my meals and drink coffee in the morning. It's the perfect height for floor sitting.

No there's no heat or air conditioning. I sleep with slippers on because I am COLD. The buildings are relatively new and constructed with cinder blocks with no insulation so the buildings stay really cold in the winter and very hot in the summer. I blame that on the French because when they came around Moroccans stopped building out of mud, which was much more insolating, in favor of more modern concrete.

The building is three storeys. (American storeys, not European storeys, where it would only be considered two.) On the first floor (ground floor) is a shop where they sell ponges, sofas, teapots, carpets, and things like that. On the second floor live me and a neighbor. On the third floor are two more neighbors, so together four of us live in the building. Because of this, we all have corner apartments and so I have four windows and get lots of sunlight. I haven't figured out whether the landlord lives here, or somewhere else. I know he manages the sofa shop though. There is a roof with clothesline where we hang our laundry and it's very picturesque. That's the spot where I took the photos of Bouarfa that I posted in the blog a little while ago.

It's going to be a comfortable place for the next two years, I think.

Here's a link to the photos!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2225886&id=18806879&l=d878614dfc