I have been here for about seven months and have about 19 more months to go and have officially felt my first pangs of homesickness. The fact that it took seven months is probably pretty good.
Officially, my record of being away from home is 8 months, from December to August, two years in a row. By "home" I mean Miami.
According to the Peace Corps emotional chart they give us, there is a "sixth month crisis." 1) I've been here longer than six months and 2) this is FAR from crisis! (The next major dip on the chart is at the one year mark.)
What sparked this? Last week I went and visited another volunteer, Xavier, at his site. Whenever I spend significant time around other Americans I sort of get this way because we speak in comfortable English, using terms like "chill" and "brosky" and reminisce about things from back home. I've also been listening to country music which could make someone in America homesick for America. Being around a male volunteer is even more homesickness-inducing than a female volunteer because it causes me to remember how in Dallas/Miami I had lots of guy friends and that was normal. I also thoroughly enjoy hanging out with guy volunteers in public because the number of youth or men who yell at me drops to almost nothing. Only the most bold will say something when I'm walking with Xavier or any other American guy.
What exactly do I miss?
It wouldn't be what you would think, necessarily.
People? Not really. I could count the number of people I truly miss on one hand...maybe half a hand.
"Basic" amenities? Not much. I don't miss having a refrigerator.
Unpredictable running water can be annoying but not something to write home about.
A/C? I missed heat during winter but it's hot now and I have no problem with no A/C.
Washer/Dryer? whatever.
I miss:
The Bar Scene: The freedom to go to a bar and play some pool and hang with friends and not be judged for it. This includes dancing to bad pop music on a crowded dance floor.
Mixed gender company
Being able to wear tank tops and shorts.
Being able to go running in the middle of the day (or whenever I want)
Being able to go to a cafe without being self conscience (not the woman's realm here.)
I admit that I do miss cereal and skim milk. If I get a fridge I can make this happen.
Snap out of it
When I get a little down on my "situation." I just try to remind myself of the reasons that I was attracted to Peace Corps and why I'm here: I knew there would be "sacrifices." I don't actually WANT my normal life back-- I'm on an adventure! InchAllah, I will have about 75 more years to dance to bad pop music in bars beginning around Christmas season 2012. I'm reminded of how especially lucky I am to be here every time I'm on the trek from Errachidia to my town in the desert and I pass nomads herding hundreds of camels and sand blowing around from every direction. And to be honest, I would probably feel the same way in small-town America since the big city brings more of the freedoms that I miss.
Remedies:
- Keeping my socializing with other volunteers to a minimum
- Remind myself that I'm not a wimp. period.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Lunch!
I have officially been in Morocco a little over six months now and about three months of them living on my own.
So after three months I have finally gotten the right seasoning/ingredients and proportions to make a good tajine!
First of all, you're probably wondering what a tajeen is. Notice I have spelled it a few different ways. That's because it doesn't really matter how it's spelled. Moheem- (the point:) A tajine is a traditional Moroccan dish, but not traditional in that it's only for tourists and people don't really eat it, but it is a very common lunch here.
It is made in a round dish, usually clay, but my tajeen, for example, is metal. And the lid is conical. It's a bunch of vegetables, oil, water, and spices. There are different kinds of tajeens here depending on personal preference. The most common one has a potato base. Now, most people put meat in the tajeen, commonly chicken but any meat or fish will work. Since I rarely buy meat because I don't have a refrigerator, all my tagines thus far have been all vegetables.
How I made my tagine: first I put a few dollops of vegetable oil in the dish and then some water. Then I added a good seasoning I call "yellow stuff" and then a seasoning called "knorr" but pronounced KAH-nor. It's kind of like a bouillon cube...
[An aside about spices: Now, when I first started experimenting with tajeen making, I just added this-and-that spices that Melanie, the previous volunteer, had left in the kitchen- anything that looked right. One thing I thought was really making the flavor of the tajines was this brownish/whitish "spice." I added it every time. One day Erika, the closest (by far!) volunteer to me and a cooking expert, visited me. I showed her my tajine method including that special seasoning and she looked at me and said,
"Abby, are you being serious?"
"yeah....why?"
"because that's bread yeast."]
Soon after adding the spices, oil, and water. I add a sliced onion and some garlic. I covered it and let it stay there boiling over the flame while I chopped up the other vegetables. The great thing about the tajine is you really can add whatever you want. I added carrots and potatoes first (since they take longer to cook) then I added zucchini and tomatoes. You can also add in whatever portions you want. I prefer to make enough that it will be dinner as well as lunch. I really like adding bell peppers too if I have any in the kitchen. It's kind of an-everything-except-the-kitchen-sink dish.
Then you leave it burning over a low flame for as long as it takes until the vegetables are soft. Covered the whole time, preferably. How long? Who knows. I am not a slave to the clock as I was in the states. All I know is I have at least a two hour lunch break and that is enough time.
Then you take the tajeen to the table, tear your bread (khobs), and dig in. We do not eat with forks and knives here. Just with bread. While I'm American and own forks and knives, the tajine tastes much better eaten with bread and my own two hands. Generally then I'll sit in the living room and watch the previous night's Daily Show, one of the few networks that will permit someone outside the U.S. to watch their show.
The reason I'm being so wishy-washy about the measurements is because it is really up to personal taste. Most people would probably add some salt but I'm a purist and like my vegetables to taste like vegetables. Plus, here you don't really measure exactly; it's all about eye-balling it. Besides, it'd be metric anyway.
Is this post going to allow you to make your own tajine/tajeen/tagine? No, but at least you'll understand the process more or less.
Here are some visual aids!! Good Photos with captions: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2232930&id=18806879&l=6c9081c7da
So after three months I have finally gotten the right seasoning/ingredients and proportions to make a good tajine!
First of all, you're probably wondering what a tajeen is. Notice I have spelled it a few different ways. That's because it doesn't really matter how it's spelled. Moheem- (the point:) A tajine is a traditional Moroccan dish, but not traditional in that it's only for tourists and people don't really eat it, but it is a very common lunch here.
It is made in a round dish, usually clay, but my tajeen, for example, is metal. And the lid is conical. It's a bunch of vegetables, oil, water, and spices. There are different kinds of tajeens here depending on personal preference. The most common one has a potato base. Now, most people put meat in the tajeen, commonly chicken but any meat or fish will work. Since I rarely buy meat because I don't have a refrigerator, all my tagines thus far have been all vegetables.
How I made my tagine: first I put a few dollops of vegetable oil in the dish and then some water. Then I added a good seasoning I call "yellow stuff" and then a seasoning called "knorr" but pronounced KAH-nor. It's kind of like a bouillon cube...
[An aside about spices: Now, when I first started experimenting with tajeen making, I just added this-and-that spices that Melanie, the previous volunteer, had left in the kitchen- anything that looked right. One thing I thought was really making the flavor of the tajines was this brownish/whitish "spice." I added it every time. One day Erika, the closest (by far!) volunteer to me and a cooking expert, visited me. I showed her my tajine method including that special seasoning and she looked at me and said,
"Abby, are you being serious?"
"yeah....why?"
"because that's bread yeast."]
Soon after adding the spices, oil, and water. I add a sliced onion and some garlic. I covered it and let it stay there boiling over the flame while I chopped up the other vegetables. The great thing about the tajine is you really can add whatever you want. I added carrots and potatoes first (since they take longer to cook) then I added zucchini and tomatoes. You can also add in whatever portions you want. I prefer to make enough that it will be dinner as well as lunch. I really like adding bell peppers too if I have any in the kitchen. It's kind of an-everything-except-the-kitchen-sink dish.
Then you leave it burning over a low flame for as long as it takes until the vegetables are soft. Covered the whole time, preferably. How long? Who knows. I am not a slave to the clock as I was in the states. All I know is I have at least a two hour lunch break and that is enough time.
Then you take the tajeen to the table, tear your bread (khobs), and dig in. We do not eat with forks and knives here. Just with bread. While I'm American and own forks and knives, the tajine tastes much better eaten with bread and my own two hands. Generally then I'll sit in the living room and watch the previous night's Daily Show, one of the few networks that will permit someone outside the U.S. to watch their show.
The reason I'm being so wishy-washy about the measurements is because it is really up to personal taste. Most people would probably add some salt but I'm a purist and like my vegetables to taste like vegetables. Plus, here you don't really measure exactly; it's all about eye-balling it. Besides, it'd be metric anyway.
Is this post going to allow you to make your own tajine/tajeen/tagine? No, but at least you'll understand the process more or less.
Here are some visual aids!! Good Photos with captions: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2232930&id=18806879&l=6c9081c7da
Monday, March 14, 2011
little Arabic, ya'll!
One thing I'm really loving about Arabic is that they have a you-plural tense. Like vosotros in Spanish or vous in French. In Moroccan Arabic the subject pronoun is Ntuma and the Object pronoun ending is 'kum.
The reason I love it is because my general use of ya'll (or y'all, depending on personal preference) which I picked up in Texas, is generally rejected by my non-ya'll using friends. Most preference just "you" or "you guys." But here I can use this pronoun freely and receive no criticism.
For example, when I greet a group of people I may say "Labas 3likum?" or "Ki rakum?" (how are you?) which sounds perfectly normal and not something to be criticized, but what I'm thinking in my head is "How ya'll doin'?!" and I'm thinking it with a big hillbilly accent. I even think this in the greeting when I say "Salam 3leikum" I'm thinking "Peace be upon ya'll!"
I suppose when you spend days and days alone with no one to joke with in English, one has to start humoring herself some how.
The reason I love it is because my general use of ya'll (or y'all, depending on personal preference) which I picked up in Texas, is generally rejected by my non-ya'll using friends. Most preference just "you" or "you guys." But here I can use this pronoun freely and receive no criticism.
For example, when I greet a group of people I may say "Labas 3likum?" or "Ki rakum?" (how are you?) which sounds perfectly normal and not something to be criticized, but what I'm thinking in my head is "How ya'll doin'?!" and I'm thinking it with a big hillbilly accent. I even think this in the greeting when I say "Salam 3leikum" I'm thinking "Peace be upon ya'll!"
I suppose when you spend days and days alone with no one to joke with in English, one has to start humoring herself some how.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Why I joined Peace Corps
My mornings generally work like this:
I wake up about 7:30 or so, make coffee/breakfast, and then get back in bed where the sun is pouring in from the window and I sit and eat breakfast and drink my coffee while reading until about 10. (don't think me lazy! Things start later around here, and work lasts until later in the evening)
So currently I'm reading a book called "The Assassins Gate" loaned and recommended to me by my good friend and fellow Moroccan PCV, Xavier. It's written by a journalist named George Packer. It's about the lead up to the war in Iraq. I'm probably about 90% finished with it and from what I gather it is this reporter basically trying to dissect the war and make sense of the whole thing because all the details he has gathered make the entire war seem illogical. In the beginning he states that after extensive research and coverage he will still go to his grave not really understanding it. (There's a point I'm getting to, I swear.)
[He is also a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) who served in Togo]
HERE IS MY POINT: Originally when Xavier loaned me the book, he had mentioned that a particular passage captured well why he joined the Peace Corps. While reading some of it this morning during my coffee/breakfast/book/bed/sunshine ritual I, by coincidence, picked out the same passage that had a resounding truth as to why I joined Peace Corps as well, though for different reasons.
Here's the particular passage from the chapter titled "Memorial Day":
"After years of sustained assault on the idea of collective action, there was no ideological foundation left on which Bush could have stood up and asked what Americans could do for their country. We weren't urged to study Arabic, to join the foreign service or international aid groups, to develop alternative sources of energy, to form a national civil reserve for emergencies.... Perhaps it was a shrewd political read on Bush's part-- a recognition that Americans, for all their passion after September 11, would inevitably slouch back on their sofas. It seemed fair to ask, though, how a body politic as out of shape as ours was likely to make it over the long, hard slog of wartime... So the months after September 11 were a lost opportunity- to harness the surge of civic energy."
So this says that post 9/11 Americans weren't urged to do all these collective pursuits for their country, but what I see in this is that, although it's not the norm, we (me and other like minded PCVolunteers)are doing these things. why? To take some kind of action-- to do something that may actually mean something. Although our generation seems to manifest senses of self-entitlement and egotism, these give us the confidence to actually enter the world and try to do something meaningful because we believe we are actually capable of having an effect on it all.
So, we will continue to try and call it Thriving (not just surviving*) because we hope that's what it is. And we will reflect when we're ancient (our 40s...just kidding!) and a little jaded-- and hope that we were right.
*Thrive-- do more more than just survive was the tagline Xavier assigned to his Peace Corps Service and I have absolutely stolen it to use as my own because I like it so much.
I wake up about 7:30 or so, make coffee/breakfast, and then get back in bed where the sun is pouring in from the window and I sit and eat breakfast and drink my coffee while reading until about 10. (don't think me lazy! Things start later around here, and work lasts until later in the evening)
So currently I'm reading a book called "The Assassins Gate" loaned and recommended to me by my good friend and fellow Moroccan PCV, Xavier. It's written by a journalist named George Packer. It's about the lead up to the war in Iraq. I'm probably about 90% finished with it and from what I gather it is this reporter basically trying to dissect the war and make sense of the whole thing because all the details he has gathered make the entire war seem illogical. In the beginning he states that after extensive research and coverage he will still go to his grave not really understanding it. (There's a point I'm getting to, I swear.)
[He is also a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) who served in Togo]
HERE IS MY POINT: Originally when Xavier loaned me the book, he had mentioned that a particular passage captured well why he joined the Peace Corps. While reading some of it this morning during my coffee/breakfast/book/bed/sunshine ritual I, by coincidence, picked out the same passage that had a resounding truth as to why I joined Peace Corps as well, though for different reasons.
Here's the particular passage from the chapter titled "Memorial Day":
"After years of sustained assault on the idea of collective action, there was no ideological foundation left on which Bush could have stood up and asked what Americans could do for their country. We weren't urged to study Arabic, to join the foreign service or international aid groups, to develop alternative sources of energy, to form a national civil reserve for emergencies.... Perhaps it was a shrewd political read on Bush's part-- a recognition that Americans, for all their passion after September 11, would inevitably slouch back on their sofas. It seemed fair to ask, though, how a body politic as out of shape as ours was likely to make it over the long, hard slog of wartime... So the months after September 11 were a lost opportunity- to harness the surge of civic energy."
So this says that post 9/11 Americans weren't urged to do all these collective pursuits for their country, but what I see in this is that, although it's not the norm, we (me and other like minded PCVolunteers)are doing these things. why? To take some kind of action-- to do something that may actually mean something. Although our generation seems to manifest senses of self-entitlement and egotism, these give us the confidence to actually enter the world and try to do something meaningful because we believe we are actually capable of having an effect on it all.
So, we will continue to try and call it Thriving (not just surviving*) because we hope that's what it is. And we will reflect when we're ancient (our 40s...just kidding!) and a little jaded-- and hope that we were right.
*Thrive-- do more more than just survive was the tagline Xavier assigned to his Peace Corps Service and I have absolutely stolen it to use as my own because I like it so much.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
What am I even doing out here?
I suppose that you Americans, as tax payers, are entitled to know what I am doing out here living in Morocco off government money. (a whole $250 a month!)
This blog will, hopefully, enlighten you to the fact that I am actually WORKING-- quite a lot too.
Well, I teach English about 15 hours a week. Only 9 of that is in class, the rest is private sessions that I schedule when requested. I teach at the Dar Chebab, which is the youth center. The kids who attend those classes are mostly boys, though some girls and at the high school-ish level. I teach there in the afternoon/early evening- after school. (hopefully more girls will come once the sun starts setting later and it's actually light outside when they get out of school.) They are generally between the ages of 15 and 30. When I first knew I would be doing "Youth Development" what I thought "youth" were is different from the Moroccan concept of youth. Here, youth are high school-aged people or young, unemployed, unmarried adults. They are referred to as "Chebbab." (pronounced Sheh-BAB with a flat "a" as in cat) I also teach at the Nedi Neswi, which is the women's center. Those women are just coming to get out of their house for a few hours and generally are not learning English for any practical purpose. Those women are their twenties and have kids at home and households to maintain, so I teach them when their kids are at school. It's not very serious and we mostly just have fun.
So WHY am I teaching English? This is not the main goal of Peace Corps, especially considering that I'm not in the education sector-- and this is a Francophone country. The point of it is to meet people and get integrated into my community. The idea is that from meeting people through teaching English I can get my hands in other local development work, partnering with local associations/clubs. One of the goals of Peace Corps is sustainability-- meaning, after a volunteer has left, the work s/he did will continue on with local people. So to do that, that means that we have to collaborate with other associations/clubs and work with local resources-- not just pumping money or outside resources in, like donations. The good news is that this technique is working! I actually have projects and activities coming up. This whole concept was intimidating at first because they send you off into the middle of nowhere and tell you to find projects when you don't know the language or the people. And what kept coming through my mind is "WHAT projects? HOW?" But lo and behold, they are coming full speed. So on Friday I'm actually doing a tree planting project at the lycee (which is the high school). This particular local association called, Al Manar, is a group of well-educated but mostly unemployed men who mainly do informal education classes. By informal, I mean, they hold evening classes for kids who have left school already. By law, you can't leave school until 15 but that rule tends to be ignored out here in L'Arobeya (the countryside). Nobody gets in trouble if your kid leaves school early to work, especially if you are nomadic tent people. So this association works with those kids. They collaborate with the high school too to encourage people to stay in school. So I think the tree planting thing on Friday is just a way to be visible in the community.
I also have been meeting with an environmental club. I haven't quite figured out what they want to do, but I've been attending their meetings and they seem to be pretty organized. They are about my age.
Another club I've been meeting with at the Dar Chebab is made up of younger kids (like, early high school age) and they have said they want to be a club of "environment, theater, and sports." WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? So what I've gathered is that most of the clubs (as opposed to the associations, which are documented and official) are really unfocused. And this serves as a microcosm to their lives. Like, they have dreams and ideas and goals, but they have zero skills in actualizing these goals. This club is an example because they want to do all these things and then, because it's so unfocused, they end up doing nothing. So I feel like my role in this is to encourage them and say "ok you want to do x activity? Great. What's the first step we need to take to make this happen?" While this may seem logical, apparently it is not. This will probably be my main influence in the community. Sure, it's not as tangible as installing a water tower or something like that, but it is surely important and surely "youth development." Which, inchAllah, will translate into "adult development."
The youth I'm working with are so idle. And it's not completely their fault. A beautiful thing about the Arab culture here is that family is So important. People put family before everything else and they are intensely close and protective. One consequence of this is that people are not generally willing to leave their home town to find work. They will take whatever they can find to be home with their families. Yes, many emigrate if given the opportunity, but this is a huge and painful sacrifice for the one who emigrates. So, when these young 20-somethings can't find work, they tend to wallow around and hang out in cafes complaining about it. Or they get grand ideas and become really excited about them....and then they sit in the cafes talking about it, because how does one even go about making one's dreams come true? Where are the examples that they can follow?
So this is the feel I've gotten from my city since arriving the first week of December. Over the remaining 1 year and 10 months, I will really push my effort into teaching, both formally and by example, how to have an idea, a goal, and follow through with it, step by step. Melanie, the volunteer I replaced, has already started paving the way for this. Right before she left she had a conference called "learning to serve: multiplying the power of volunteerism" that was basically a leadership conference for "youth" where they learned these leadership/goal actualizing skills I've been referring to. So, hopefully, as the new volunteer, I will be able to build off of what Melanie began and create some empowered young adults.
Good use of your tax dollars?
This blog will, hopefully, enlighten you to the fact that I am actually WORKING-- quite a lot too.
Well, I teach English about 15 hours a week. Only 9 of that is in class, the rest is private sessions that I schedule when requested. I teach at the Dar Chebab, which is the youth center. The kids who attend those classes are mostly boys, though some girls and at the high school-ish level. I teach there in the afternoon/early evening- after school. (hopefully more girls will come once the sun starts setting later and it's actually light outside when they get out of school.) They are generally between the ages of 15 and 30. When I first knew I would be doing "Youth Development" what I thought "youth" were is different from the Moroccan concept of youth. Here, youth are high school-aged people or young, unemployed, unmarried adults. They are referred to as "Chebbab." (pronounced Sheh-BAB with a flat "a" as in cat) I also teach at the Nedi Neswi, which is the women's center. Those women are just coming to get out of their house for a few hours and generally are not learning English for any practical purpose. Those women are their twenties and have kids at home and households to maintain, so I teach them when their kids are at school. It's not very serious and we mostly just have fun.
So WHY am I teaching English? This is not the main goal of Peace Corps, especially considering that I'm not in the education sector-- and this is a Francophone country. The point of it is to meet people and get integrated into my community. The idea is that from meeting people through teaching English I can get my hands in other local development work, partnering with local associations/clubs. One of the goals of Peace Corps is sustainability-- meaning, after a volunteer has left, the work s/he did will continue on with local people. So to do that, that means that we have to collaborate with other associations/clubs and work with local resources-- not just pumping money or outside resources in, like donations. The good news is that this technique is working! I actually have projects and activities coming up. This whole concept was intimidating at first because they send you off into the middle of nowhere and tell you to find projects when you don't know the language or the people. And what kept coming through my mind is "WHAT projects? HOW?" But lo and behold, they are coming full speed. So on Friday I'm actually doing a tree planting project at the lycee (which is the high school). This particular local association called, Al Manar, is a group of well-educated but mostly unemployed men who mainly do informal education classes. By informal, I mean, they hold evening classes for kids who have left school already. By law, you can't leave school until 15 but that rule tends to be ignored out here in L'Arobeya (the countryside). Nobody gets in trouble if your kid leaves school early to work, especially if you are nomadic tent people. So this association works with those kids. They collaborate with the high school too to encourage people to stay in school. So I think the tree planting thing on Friday is just a way to be visible in the community.
I also have been meeting with an environmental club. I haven't quite figured out what they want to do, but I've been attending their meetings and they seem to be pretty organized. They are about my age.
Another club I've been meeting with at the Dar Chebab is made up of younger kids (like, early high school age) and they have said they want to be a club of "environment, theater, and sports." WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? So what I've gathered is that most of the clubs (as opposed to the associations, which are documented and official) are really unfocused. And this serves as a microcosm to their lives. Like, they have dreams and ideas and goals, but they have zero skills in actualizing these goals. This club is an example because they want to do all these things and then, because it's so unfocused, they end up doing nothing. So I feel like my role in this is to encourage them and say "ok you want to do x activity? Great. What's the first step we need to take to make this happen?" While this may seem logical, apparently it is not. This will probably be my main influence in the community. Sure, it's not as tangible as installing a water tower or something like that, but it is surely important and surely "youth development." Which, inchAllah, will translate into "adult development."
The youth I'm working with are so idle. And it's not completely their fault. A beautiful thing about the Arab culture here is that family is So important. People put family before everything else and they are intensely close and protective. One consequence of this is that people are not generally willing to leave their home town to find work. They will take whatever they can find to be home with their families. Yes, many emigrate if given the opportunity, but this is a huge and painful sacrifice for the one who emigrates. So, when these young 20-somethings can't find work, they tend to wallow around and hang out in cafes complaining about it. Or they get grand ideas and become really excited about them....and then they sit in the cafes talking about it, because how does one even go about making one's dreams come true? Where are the examples that they can follow?
So this is the feel I've gotten from my city since arriving the first week of December. Over the remaining 1 year and 10 months, I will really push my effort into teaching, both formally and by example, how to have an idea, a goal, and follow through with it, step by step. Melanie, the volunteer I replaced, has already started paving the way for this. Right before she left she had a conference called "learning to serve: multiplying the power of volunteerism" that was basically a leadership conference for "youth" where they learned these leadership/goal actualizing skills I've been referring to. So, hopefully, as the new volunteer, I will be able to build off of what Melanie began and create some empowered young adults.
Good use of your tax dollars?
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
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
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
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