Sort of like a cross between a family reunion, a church picnic and a county festival, Ait Erkha's annual Moussum is an adventure, to say the least. Held over 3 days, it is a town (and commune) wide celebration of the lives of three Moroccan women who have attained saint-like status for their commitment to the Muslim faith and the extraordinary lives they lead. The most recent was buried shortly after my arrival here in May of 2010.
Family members, friends and fellow Moroccans travel into my tiny town by the thousands from places as far away as France and Rabat. Music, dancing and a large souk (market) are the cornerstones of the festival. My counterpart and her family are closely related to 2 of the women buried in town and they live in the house attached to the Zawid and serve as the watch-guards over the tomb. Hundreds of people each day flock to their house to meet with long lost family and friends, enjoy a glass of tea and eat. The eating is a little bit out of control. Sort of like Thanksgiving for hundreds, this year an entire camel was killed and eaten by these swarms of people in the form of Tajine and Cous Cous, two of Moroccans staple meals.
Last year this festival occurred when I was only 4 months into my journey in Morocco and only 2 months after arriving in my site. I remember it being overwhelming, to say the least, with lots of interested parties with lots of questions about who I was and what I was doing in this tiny town. I worked the cooperative booth, danced at the concerts and helped do dishes, all of which required little language, a necessity at the time.
Now, a year later, I can hardly believe it. It is a true marker and indicator of how far I have come in the past year and how much life has changed in such a seemingly short period of time. I no longer cringe at the thought of meeting (and greeting) large groups of women, no longer cry at the thought of having to try and understand everyone's Tashlheet and no longer have to spend the better part of days just waiting for things to happen. Life is so different here but yet so familiar.
This particular indicator has been so eye-opening because of the many people I met at this festival that have sought me out this year, the second time around. It seems like only yesterday I met them, talked to them and tried to figure out their relations to these women. Family trees are quite complicated in Morocco was people have very extended families and some men having many wives, I have a hard time keeping track.
The festival has come at a bitter-sweet time in the year. While last year it was sort of my introduction to the village, this year it serves as my exit from life here. As I embark on the next stage of my journey, in a new place, a new town, a new set of people, the comforting feeling is quickly overrun with anxiety. I can vividly remember how difficult my initial integration was, from constantly meeting new people with difficulties remembering names, and attempting to understand what they are saying, doing it all over again seems slightly daunting.
The bright side is that this time around I am better prepared, much much better prepared. I know have the language, cultural know-how and the wear-with-all to handle integration round 2. I am positive that this time around it will be easier, or at least less anxiety ridden than last time.
As I sit outside my house, typing this blog entry, the sounds of the festival are radiating through the town, despite my significant distance from the source. Men, women and children are out and about, shopping, dancing and playing; quite the change from the normal scenery of men outside, women inside and kid's throwing rocks. This festival is the kind of Morocco I wish I could bring back home and share. It shows the love, the spirit and the culture of my neighbors and friends that so embodies them. The companionship, loyalty to their village and their culture, and the enjoyment they find in one another is what makes this community, and so many like it, so special. I think that is what gives it the "family" reunion feel. It's like everyone, from all over Morocco and the world can come back together, to their roots, to eat traditional food, sing traditional songs and speak in their native and cultural tongue. You can just feel the energy and frankly, it's invigorating.
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