I could name every blog post “Every Day is an Adventure” because my life is really that insane. Every day in Africa is a new adventure and here is just one example.
I wasn’t feeling well at all yesterday, so I went to bed as soon as dinner was done at about 9:30pm. They eat very late here. Laying down was especially awesome because I traded Martin my extra towel for a sleeping pad. This was a nice alternative to the hard concrete floor I was sleeping on, I thank him immensely for the temporary trade. After a good 10+ hours of sleep and some really weird dreams, I awoke today ready for an adventure and an adventure is exactly what I got. Siad, our instructor, decided this morning to host class outside, so we got our easel and headed for the fields. We were initially looking for farmers to practice our language on, but they were on “Moroccan time” so of course they were not there. We were outside until about 10am, then it was tea time, so back to the house we went. Being outside was a nice change of pace from sitting inside all the time and I think the sunshine did us a little good.
After some more language and lunch we headed outside again to see if we could find some farmers to ask about their work in the fields. At first we couldn’t find any, so we talked to some women washing their clothes in the river. The good news is that the once chocolaty looking river has cleared up a lot and is looking much better. While I don’t necessarily like the idea of putting detergents in the river, these women have little option since we haven’t gotten water in our taps for over a week now and most families stock piles have long since depleted.
We started to walk back in defeat but we got lucky and found one lowly famer in his fields. Not only did we find a farmer to answer our questions, we found my host grandfather, one of the oldest and most enthusiastic men in the village. He is 80 years old and literally the nicest man I have ever met. He had no problem answering our silly questions and listening to our broken Tashlheet and he even sat with us in the fields for 45 minutes talking about farming and the olive and almond trees he tends too.
At 4pm, it was tea-time so we invited him back for some tea at our school which also double as Said’s house. We were glad he accepted the invitation because he shared some more information (through our translator, of course) and was a nice addition to our afternoon snack.
After snack, we had some independent study time, which is much needed, to comprehend the massive amount of information we get on any given day.
At 5:40, Martin and I headed home and that is where the read adventure began. Before I even got in my door, my host aunt and neighbor taught me how to beat open almond fruits to get the seeds. The one benefit to this labor-intensive process is the delicious snack it produces. They were quite possibly the most organic things I have ever eaten. They came from a tree, which was planted from an almond seed off another tree, the tree was never treated to pesticides or chemicals, just some water and animal manure when needed. The almond fruits were picked by hand and put in a bag then given for me to crack open. The almonds were delicious and organic, a two in one combo!
I then went inside and put my stuff down, only to give Asma and Hasna some clips I had bought them from the mini market that had been set up in our town. Asma and I then headed back outside for a walk. We didn’t get more than 20 steps from our front door when the local hen club commanded me to sit down.
The next 40 minutes were the most culturally beneficial and mentally draining I have had so far in Morocco. What started with 2 women asking me some questions in Tashlheet turned into 19 women and girls standing around me saying God only knows what and asking me questions I could only begin to comprehend. I think that for only about 2 weeks of language training, my Tashlheet is pretty good given my limited background knowledge, but today just showed me that I have so much more to learn. This is a synopsis of what I think happened during the conversation.
I was introduced to everyone.
We went over body parts and clothing in both English and Tashlheet mixed with some French.
One woman tried to trade me her ring for my beloved Presidents ring. I almost gave it to her because I don’t understand
Tashlheet.
They asked if I was married, I said no. Then they asked why not, like 50 more times.
I named everything in the kitchen I could remember.
They asked if I could stay in Asfalo, so they could go to America, like a trade of sorts.
They mentioned that America was good and Asfalo was boring, I countered saying I liked Asfalo a lot.
They tried to name me Fatima, which ironically enough is the name I would choose for myself if I had to choose an Arabic name,
but I insisted on keeping Care-um (my adopted name since Cara is difficult to say).
We went over some more nouns.
Lots of loud talking and laughing, but that is normal.
The conversation got most interesting when the town “it” girl showed up. She is a really funny (I see other people laughing so I assume she is funny), pretty and voice torus girl who I am sure knows everything about everyone. On a side note, she is the leader of the “hen club” mentioned in earlier blog posts who also wants to marry Martin. She came in talking to me about all kinds of things I didn’t understand. From what I can gather, I am getting henna on my hands tonight after dinner, but I will keep you posted on if that actually happens or I just couldn’t understand the Tashlheet. The funniest part of the entire conversation was when my housemother, Fatima, finally came and saved me, saying I needed to go with her and get water from the well. She always seems to read my mind and I appreciate that.
Before I left, the leader of the “hen club” said something along the lines of why I was not washing Martin’s clothes for him. She was concerned that I was making him wash his clothes when I should be doing it. It’s hilarious because they are convinced we are secretly married or at least dating, maybe because we walk home from school together or maybe because its just something fun to talk about. Whatever the reason, I busted into laughter and reminded them that Martin and I were not married and that he could do his own laundry.
Needless to say I learned a lot from my first wall crouching experience and I certainly picked up some language along the way. Like I said, every day in Morocco is an adventure and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I would also like to say that my youngest host sister is wearing an ‘Easter” type sweater with two bunnies on it and lots of orange and pink fringe. It reminds me that Easter is coming up and while I will not be able to celebrate it with the traditional bunnies and eggs that I am used to, I will at least see if I can get my sister to wear this orange sweater. ☺
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