First Day Off

Sunday when we awoke the electricity was off. Mashi mushkil (no problem—a useful phrase) the lights are rarely on anyway and we were going early to the Sunday souk. We stuffed six people plus the driver into a taxi and headed to the souk on the edge of town. What an amazing sight! The souk is spread out over several acres and has everything you can think of for sale. Great crowds of sellers and buyers milled about, goats bleated, donkeys brayed, chickens squawked, aromas of mint and cilantro and other not so pleasant scents filled the air. Melons, peppers, carrots, bananas, all kinds of fruits and vegetables were piled high, popcorn popped, goat meat sizzled, and ears of corn roasted over open grills. We filled a huge bag with enough vegetables to feed seven people for a week for a cost of about $20.

That same afternoon, five of us trainees, our culture and language facilitator (CLF), two teenage boys, the director of a medical association, and a hired driver all piled into a five seat van to take an excursion into the mountains to see the spring that is the source of the water for our city. We took along a cooking pot, a butane portable stove, a large platter, chicken and vegetables for a picnic, and an African drum. Our driver had his own tea set and a quilted padded dashboard edged with braided drapery trim and dangling crystals—very classy. Off we went over a rutted rocky road for about 8 kilometers until we came to a river. I thought we would stop there but instead, we drove right into the river where of course we got stuck. “So we are fixed” said the CFL cheerfully and started playing his drum. The men got out to push, and finally, we made it to the other side and continued on to the spring. It was a beautiful and interesting spot, but it was very hard to imagine that this small spring could serve a city of about 40,000.
After cleaning the chicken and vegetables in the spring, we turned back, roared through the river without mishap, and stopped by an apple orchard. I’m not sure who owned it but mashi mushkil we picked a bunch of apples and went on down the road. Another stop yielded fresh bread from a farm house. Finally we arrived at a picnic spot and the cooking began. Even though we didn’t eat lunch until 4pm, it was well worth the wait. The chicken and vegetables were dished out into a big serving dish and we all ate the Moroccan way using our hands and pieces of bread for utensils.
We traveled home with the music of Morocco playing at full volume accompanied by Jamel on his drum. It was the best day so far.