The Conversation is a Trifle-Onesided

I have returned from a five day trip to the Atlas Mountains!  It was almost too much to process!  I'm including many beautiful pictures in this bloodspot in order to due justice to the breath-taking beauty of Beni Mallal, Zawiya Ahansal, and Marrakech.

First Stop:  Beni Mallal

Photo Cred: Kristin Licciardello

Beni Mallah was first stop on the way to the high Atlas Mountains.  This city boasts beautiful views and an impressive university.  Not much can be said for its history though.  After we visited the beautiful Kasbah and park, we learned that they had both been recently constructed in an effort by the city to create a history for itself.

We spent the afternoon at the university and dialogued with several Moroccan students.  In our discussion we learned the difference between Beldi (traditional, rural) and Romi (modern, western).  Depending on your background, each carry a different connotation.  In a big city such as Rabat, a person labeled Beldi would be considered dirty and uneducated.  And in the mountains of Zawiya Ahansal, a Romi person would be considered untraditional and european.

Next Up:  Zawiya Ahansal

Photo Cred: Carly Jean

After a nail biting 5 hour drive through the winding roads of the High Atlas Mountains, we reach Zawiya Ahansal; the largest Berber commune in Morocco.  The Amazigh (Berber people) are originally tribal people who lived in the rural areas of what is now Morocco.  While many have integrated into modern society, the majority remain in rural regions and stay in communes.  The Amazigh tend to be thought of as dirty, uneducated,  and not "true" muslims by most Moroccans.  It was only recently that the Moroccan government officially recognized Berber as a language and acknowledged parts of their culture.

View from the Sheik's House
Photo Cred: Carly Jean

Our guide for the weekend was an American woman, Chloe, who has lived in the rural commune for 11 years after she visited it on her honeymoon.  She took us to the sheik's guesthouses where we had the opportunity to with the sheik and ask him questions about the village.

The Most Interesting Things I Learned:

• There are no policeman or law enforcement personnel for the 10,000-15,000 inhabitants.  There hasn't been a need for them because crime is so low
• The population fluctuates by 5,000 twice a year when the nomadic people migrate 
• The nomadic people usually cause a traffic jam of camels when they arrive in the Spring 
• Most children stop going to school by 6th grade and work with their parents in the fields 
• Usually the oldest son in the family will leave the village to work in a larger city and send money back to the commune.  Other than him, most people live their entire lives never leaving Zawiya Ahansal 
• Diabetes is a HUGE issue because the people aren't educated about nutrition
• The average family consumes 18 kilos of sugar per month in that village (family size ranges from 6-12)
• For lunch one day we were served bread, plain couscous, white pasta, rice, and potatoes. This is considered a balanced diet in the village 

The most pressing question in my mind after learning all this was the protection of women's rights.  Chloe and the Sheik are very proud of the fact that there is minimal crime in the village, but I couldn't help but wonder if certain crimes were just being kept under wraps.  After pressing them more for information, I learned that certain women's rights groups come into the village every now and then to educate women on their rights.  Ever since the 2004 amendment to the Mudawana (family law), the status of women has significantly improved.  Chloe and other members of the commune said that they respect many of the new laws.  The majority of families wait until their daughters are 18 (as the law demands) before marrying them off.  They additionally stated that due to the poverty of the region, they simply cannot afford to put men on a higher pedestal.  Men and women have the same jobs on a daily basis.  But, after talking to Chloe more privately about the issue, I got the sense that issues such as domestic violence aren't talked about or even acknowledged as a problem.  And due to the lack of police, there isn't a resource available for women to report such issues.  

That night, the Shiek's cousin came to give us henna tattoos, and we joined a traditional Berber dance circle.

Photo Cred: Sreya Vaidyanathan

Photo Cred: Sreya Vaidyanathan

I was one of the few students who made it the full two and half hours in the dance circle.  Chloe told us that usually dance circles go for the entire night.  8 hours of chanting, drumming, and moving slowly in the a circle to your right. 

I also fell in love with the Sheik's child:

Last Stop Marrakech:

Marrakech was short and sweet, we were only there for the night and the morning.  It was enough time to explore the square, shop in the souk, and play with a monkey.  While I loved the city, it was clear that this is solely a tourist destination.  The people in this city are presenting that Morocco they want us to see.  The monkeys and snake charmers and horse drawn carriages serve no purpose except to entertain foreigners.  I am much more excited for Fes, which I have been told is supposed to be the "real" Morocco. 

Until next time! 

Moroccan Hospitality

This weekend I learned a lesson about Moroccan hospitality.

Saturday

On Saturday, I went with a group of friends to the Oulmes Valley to find "la source" - the source of water for the popular brand "Oulmes" in Morocco.  Six of us squeezed into a small taxi and drove three hours up a mountain.  The four hour hike was hot, but beautiful.  At the bottom of the valley the boys surprised us with pb&j sandwiches they had prepared the night before.  We arrived back at the hotel sweaty, tired, and satisfied.  After we drank traditional moroccan mint tea and ate biscuits with honey, we decided it was time to hail a cab and venture back to Rabat.

Oops.  No cabs were leaving that night.  It was too late for them to make the three hour journey to the bottom of the mountain and drive back up the same day.

Desperate, I sought out the only man who had spoke to us in French when we arrived (every one else spoke only Arabic in this rural town), and explained our predicament.  To my utter surprise, he told me that he coincidentally was returning to Rabat that night and would drive the six of us down the mountain.

Talk about hospitality!  The military boys weren't so sure this convenient solution could come with no strings attached.  Armed with the cheap knives we brought to cut fruit and sandwiches, they sat behind our driver - knife in one hand, cell phone with our program director dialed in the other.

The man explained to us as he drove that he worked in Oulmes, and lived in Rabat.  His brother is the King's chef and his family lives in the palace.  Hence why he prefers to live in Rabat and commute every day to work.  We stopped for tea on the way down, of course he treated; he was almost insulted that we tried so hard to pay.  By the time we finished our journey, we were fast friends with the man.  He gave us his cell phone and said to call him anytime.  Again, he refused to accept any money from us for the ride.  True Moroccan hospitality.

Jeff and I overlooking Oulmes 

Sunday:

I spent Sunday morning with my mama.  We went running to the beach at 7am, swam in the freezing cold waters, and then lounged in the sand.  She fervently talked about the importance of exercise in life as she pulled out chocolate filled croissants and jam.  "Because we ran!" she tried to defend herself.

After that, I left for lunch at Maha's house (the girl I row with).  I left at 11:30am, and told my mom I would be back in the afternoon to finish my homework.

Oops.  Moroccan lunches are the biggest meal of the day.  And they aren't served until 3pm.  I spent the first three hours meeting everyone in the family - mom, dad, cousins, grandma, aunts, uncles - and sharing stories from home.  I spent the next hour at lunch timidly trying to convince the family I had eaten enough as they heaped more couscous on my plate.  After that they insisted that I come to the beach with them.  After the beach, I told them that I really should be heading home.  "Ok" they said, "but first we go to our Aunt's pool, she lives so close it will be rude not to."  At 7pm at the pool, I finally told the mom I absolutely needed to go home.  "Ok" she said, "but first we take tea with our Aunt.  We used her pool, it would be rude not to."  A little frustrated at this point, I tried to be pleasant for the next two hours of tea with the family.  Maha tried to reassure me that my Moroccan mom would not worry for me, no one is on time in the country and it is normal to be late when you are out with family.

Finally, they dropped me off at my house at 9:15pm.  The "lunch" had taken 9.5 hours.  As Maha had predicted, my mama was not upset that I was late.  She explained that it is Moroccan hospitality to invite one's guest to spend the entire day with them.

.... But are you Hammam close?

Wednesday: I went to my first hammam (baths) with some girls on the program!  It was definitely culture shock... but in a good way.  Women in Morocco go to the hammam weekly to cleanse and socialize.

When we arrived there, we stripped naked (no room for bodily qualms in this hammam) and were taken by two naked women into the hottest room of the hammam.  There, they bathed up in hot water and soap.  And then they scrubbed.  And it was pretty painful.  But also amazing.  They scraped all the dead skin off our bodies - it fell off in grey clumps - until we were bright red and literally in new skin.  They washed our hair, massaged our feet, and sent us our way to the cooling chamber where we sat around and giggled about we had just been through.

Thursday:

I went rowing with a girl on the high school national team at her rowing club today!  There was a nice breeze luckily which made rowing is spandex pants more bearable.  It's still hard to see shirtless men in tiny shorts run around while I'm sitting in insulted pants and a thick tshirt.  

I risked death by crocodile as well while rowing.  Apparently a male and a female crocodile climbed into the inlet some years ago and now basically keep to themselves.  Sometimes there are spottings, other times it is just boys who shout "crocodile!" to make the girls scream.  Regardless, when I heard those shouts I went into panic mode and rowed as fast as I ever had away from that area. 

More home stay observations:

•  We have a communal water glass for dinner.  Aka I don't drink anything at dinner and wait until I'm in my room to chug water
• Monday and Thursday dinners are the BEST because my homestay parents fast every week on those days.  My mama spends her whole afternoon in the kitchen cooking a fabulous meal for us.  Unfortunately I do not fast on Mondays and Thursdays so I just end up eating a ton of food those days. 
• The water my mom gives me at night tastes different because she infuses it with Argan oil to help my nail and hair strength.  Thanks Mama Omnia! 

Twice the Usual Suspects

Today I made Moroccan friends!  The first girl, Maha, is on the high school national rowing team.  She talked to her coach today and told me that I'm welcome to come to their boathouse whenever and take out a single!  I'm so excited, she said I can practice with the team too if I want.

My next "friend" was assigned to me by the program, but I'm sure we will become natural friends soon enough.  Diyae is 19, studies international relations and english, and super nice.  Her best friend also rows at the same club as Maha so I'm going to meet even more friends!!

I've had some more quality moments.  Here are this week's....

OBSERVATIONS  

• I've noticed a pattern that every time I see my home stay father in the kitchen, he subsequently lectures at dinner about how a woman's place is in the kitchen and men do not cook at all. 

• Both my home stay parents have decided that the best way for me to learn Arabic (a language of which I do not even know the alphabet) is to randomly change from French to Arabic and hope that I can pick it up from context clues.  So far, not successful. 

• Classical Arabic is never spoken in Morocco except at prayer times.  Everyone speaks Dirya, a french influenced dialect.  The students on the program have been instructed in classical arabic, and some like to think that they are more equipped to communicate with Moroccans than I am with my French.  Today I was with a group of friends and we needed to ask for directions.  I went to ask a shopkeeper in French, but Jeff insisted on asking (in Arabic) instead of me.   The shopkeeper looked at him confused, and responded in French, "I don't speak English, ask me in French or Arabic."  Jeff, highly embarrassed that his classic arabic was mistaken for english, turned to me and said "can you ask him for directions?".  A little smugly, I asked the man in French for directions and talked with him a longer than necessary in order to really make my point.