Hello to all of you! I hope this past week has been a good one for you! For me, the week has been a week of several new social and sensory experiences. Monday’s main event was a football (soccer ) match on the beach with fellow CCCL students and a few locals. Before I go any further with details about the match, I should describe to you the extent of my football skills…I have none. While I managed to be alright as a defender, when it came to forging an offensive, I was fatally distracted by the volleyball match going on next door and the impressive ocean/beach scenery. My eight year old Moroccan teammate was not amused. In my defense, however, deep sand is not conducive to footie. So yes, I was on the losing team. Paddling in the cool ocean afterwards was fun though-I was tempted to redeem myself by showing off some swimming skills…I thought better of it though as I watched the massive waves smacking against the shore. Best not to get caught in an undercurrent whilst swimming off the coast of Morocco-Mummy wouldn’t like that.
Right, so while Monday was fairly ordinary, Tuesday stands as a landmark day in my Moroccan experience thus far. After a relatively intense two hours of Arabic, I returned home around five to find my sister and a close family friend waiting to take me to the himmam. I threw my toiletries in the communal bucket, grabbed some cash and a change of clothes and headed off to the public baths with them. When you first enter the himmam, you are in the changing area-a section with benches against the wall where women sit and chat, either undressing for a bath or drying off after spending an hour or so going between the three different rooms that constitute the traditional Moroccan bathhouse. The first room is the least steamy, while the third room is comparable to a sauna. My sister told me to undress and then the three of us made our way to the back room. It was hot and steamy with a large tap pouring forth very hot water into a large basin against the wall. I have never been particularly uncomfortable about communal nudity (I find it quite reassuring actually), so when I found myself surrounded by several naked Moroccan women, I wasn’t overcome by discomfort. Many of them were either sitting on mats surrounded by buckets of water or were at the pump collecting water for their baths. The close family friend also known as Kadaicha was quick to sit me down on a mat and surround me with buckets of steaming water. She handed me a scrubbing glove (referred to as a kiss here) and placed some brownish looking paste in my other hand. A bit confused, I went about doing the only thing that made sense-putting the paste all over me and scrubbing. Kadaicha watched me for a bit with the hint of a smile on her face and then attended to setting up a bathing station for my sister. So while I was sitting there rubbing this foreign brown paste all over my skin, the majority of nearby women were unabashedly staring at this clearly European/American lady who had obviously never been to the himmam. After rubbing down with the brown paste, assuming that I would just wash my hair and body like with any other bucket shower, I set to work getting clean! Oh, how naïve! After a few minutes, Kadaicha told me to sit on the stool that we had brought along…then she took the kiss and started scrubbing the entirety of my body…hard. Unabashedly, she scrubbed my skin for a good five minutes, sloughing off the flakes of dead skin as they appeared. It was intense, but an entirely rejuvenating experience. I spent some time marveling at the smoothness of a newly exposed layer of skin! Afterwards, I finished my bath, enjoyed the hot water on my freshly scrubbed body, and waited for my sister and Kadaicha to finish. We were in the back room of the himman for a good hour and a half-I was a bit dehydrated after so long and thus glad to get into the cool air of the evening and drink some water. Refreshed and sparkling, the three us made it home just in time to hear the evening call to prayer and tuck into yet another traditional iftar. I had heard my sister mention henna the night before, so I ate my dates and bread wondering just when henna was to take place. I didn’t have to wait too long! Before I could get any of my Arabic homework done, I was told to come upstairs and get henna! A neighbor who is a popular henna artist in the neighborhood came over and set to work covering my hands with intricate designs. After about thirty minutes, both hands were ornately decorated with beautiful designs. Just as the henna was becoming crusty, my mother covered my hands in a sticky paste that reeked of garlic and slid them both into nylon stockings. Just as I feared, I was told to sleep with my hands like so…for the whole night. Oh how I chastised myself for neglecting to remove my contacts or get into my pajamas beforehand. As you might have guessed, it was a miserable night with little sleep.
As if Tuesday night wasn’t exhausting enough, I decided to fast on Wednesday. Seeing as I didn’t eat the midnight dinner the night before or wake up for the early morning breakfast, I found fasting for the entirety of the day quite difficult. The librarian at the CCCL and my Arabic teacher were pleased I was fasting and not at all surprised when I stumbled through Arabic dictations and pronunciation. The encouraging and entirely sympathetic eyes of my Arabic teacher just stared back at me as I tried to forget hunger and focus on alif, baa, taa… Anyway, I can tell you that fasting for the day certainly made me appreciate the iftar and even the late night dinner that, for the first time since my arrival at the homestay, I took part in. My mother, fully aware that I had been fasting, took great pleasure in inundating me with food throughout both meals. Sadly, by Thursday morning, I came to fully regret the entire fasting experience. Out of what I can only conceive as being sheer shock, my stomach spent the whole of Wednesday night battling with all the food I had suddenly taken in. Unfortunately, my stomach was having none of it and by the morning, made it very clear that Thursday was to be a miserable day of multiple trips to the loo and relentless pain seering through my abdomen. The cook at the center kindly provided me with a banana and told me to eat it with a few glasses of water. Dear Brahim, so thoughtful and helpful in his assessment of my frequent toilet trips! I should also mention that I was entirely grateful that my little sister related to my mother that, as I was feeling quite ill, my evening meal should remain quite small. Praise for minimalist meals! After managing to eat a bit, out of a desire to feel the comforting presence of my real mother and my sympathetic brother, I dashed off to the internet café to skype with them. A welcome conversation, but also a struggle. Hard to realize that as I end the call, they are once again my dear family…miles and miles away. Still, although physically absent from my life at the moment, the sound of their voices and visions of their smiles are very much within me here.
By finishing off the week with a Friday night excursion with fellow students to a nearby hookah bar, I can safely say the past five days have honestly plunged me into the Moroccan experience. Whether experiencing intense communal bathing, dealing with an unprecedented change in diet, or simply letting the pulsing, smoky hookah bar relax me, I spent the week celebrating community, negotiating with my confused and at times, anxious body, and continuously accumulating moments of laughter and delicious discovery. It’s time to attend to the weekend now… and the end of Ramadan! Eid Mubarak! Details from the holiday soon I hope! All my love to you my dears…if you will, admire the changing colours of the leaves for me!