The End of Ramadan

Ramadan has ended. This morning the streets are full of families going house to house greeting each other, hugging and kissing, and no doubt offering congratulations for making it through a month of sacrifice. Many are dressed up in wedding finery, and children sport new clothes. All hanuts and markets are closed and no transports are running. The feasting will soon commence.

The month of Ramadan was hot, dry and miserable. The relentless sun bleached all color out of the landscape. The horizon was barely visible with the brown of the land fading into the gray of the sky. Everything inside and out was covered with a film of dust.

We endured our hottest day in Morocco yet on a day when we were coming back from blessedly cool Rabat through oven-like Fes. It was reportedly 114 degrees. It felt like it. The man who runs the big open dusty chaotic taxi lot had a wet towel on his head, and all the drivers were spraying each other with water. They couldn’t drink any though. It made me wonder about their ability to drive, especially after we came upon two accidents on the way home. Some of our friends witnessed fights in the streets, and I heard a woman screaming at her children with a voice out of “The Exorcist”.

Clearly, the heat, hunger, dehydration, and nicotine withdrawal, had people on edge, but it’s now over for another year. There is a lot to be said for collective suffering and celebration as the entire country experiences Ramadan together.

The weather has also obligingly changed with the end of Ramadan, and it changed in dramatic fashion with rumbling thunder, sheet lightening and a downpour of rain and hail. The temperature is down to the high 80’s and a blanket is needed at night. It’s interesting to see how I now consider 90 to be a comfortable temperature. I’m really looking forward to fall.

Why Moroccans Always Walk in the Street.....

And not on the sidewalks:

The First Day of Ramadan

We had a good idea of what to expect during Ramadan, but as usual, the reality was not as imagined. I thought stores would be closed until evening and people would sleep most of the day, but when I went out in the morning of the first day, the town was bustling, all the hanuts were open, people were shopping at the vegetable and meat markets, and the carpenters' saws were buzzing. Smells of cooking wafted through the air most of the afternoon while the meal to break fast, called lftur, was being prepared. We are not fasting but are being culturally sensitive and respectful of those that are. We were invited to break fast with a Moroccan family which we consider an honor. We went to their home a little early to see the preparations. The women had been cooking all afternoon and the food was all put on the table a few minutes before the call to break fast so that when it came, we could dive right in. At about 7:30 we heard the call from the mosque and started in on the french bread, Moroccan bread, small round bread-like pancakes, large round pancakes, crepes, limsamn and fat bread, olives, honey, zmeta, dates, harira soup, kefta tajine, hard-boiled eggs, pastries with honey & sesame, caramel crunchy cookies, flan, tea, coffee and mango juice. Everything was delicious, but my favorite was the kefta tagine which I want to learn to make. After eating all this, we were surprised to be asked to stay for dinner at 11pm--something light they said--beef and onions. We declined (hopefully in a respectful way) saying that we couldn't eat any more and we were tired and had to go to bed early--all true. We would have used our age as an excuse but the 80+ father took a nap and was ready to eat again. When we left at around 10:30 they loaded us down with three kinds of bread, a big bag of olives, a large melon, sesame cookies and a liter of olive oil. They told us to come back any time and if we want something special to eat, just tell them and they will cook it for us. Although Ramadan is a time of giving as well as spirituality and fasting, their generosity was astonishing. How can we ever hope to reciprocate?

The Rest of July

July was an eventful month. The President of Co-operative Adwal, my counterpart, traveled to the US to take part in the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and 50th Anniversary celebration of Peace Corps in Washington DC. Fatima was one of two weavers chosen from Morocco to take part in the traditional craft demonstrations. It was a huge honor for her and the co-op and also the first time she had traveled out of the country. Fatima also put on a cooking demonstration of a traditional dish and was amazed at the number of people in the audience. She returned with many great pictures of herself in front of various monuments and the White House, and also some of herself on an escalator and going through a revolving door--both new experiences. We’re hoping that the fair exposure to so many tourists will motivate some to check out Moroccan carpets online, specifically those of Adwal.

During the same time, another Marche Maroc Peace Corps sponsored craft fair was held in the beach city of Essaouira. Adwal attended but I didn’t get the chance since we were meeting our daughter and son-in-law in Tangier coming over on the ferry from Spain. I enjoyed Tangier very much with its delicious fresh fish, cool sea breezes and faded haunts of the beat generation. It’s not nearly as seedy as the guidebooks would have you believe, and the view from the Kasbah over the Atlantic and the Strait of Gibraltar toward Spain was spectacular.

Back in REK, our family got a little taste of our life here. They visited the weaving and couscous co-ops we work with, where they got a wonderfully warm welcome. They were also able to experience a traditional three course, three hour lunch at the home of Fatima and her sister, and witness all the activities of a wedding ceremony that was held on a neighboring rooftop, complete with music until 5 am.

We also were then fortunate to spend a mini-vacation in Madrid and Cuenca, Spain with our daughter whose excellent Spanish paved the way for a relaxing time. In Madrid we enjoyed spectacular architecture, world famous museums, great beer, wine, ham, music, couples sitting together at sidewalk cafes, church bells, sidewalks, and the new Harry Potter movie in English.

In Cuenca, reached by a quick ride on a new bullet train, we marveled at the old city built on karst, a 12th century cathedral, picturesque squares with fountains, scenic countryside, and a free classical concert in a pedestrian square with amazing acoustics.
We are now in REK as they prepare for Ramadan which begins in August. The patisseries in Fes are literally piled high with date and honey treats that are eaten to break fast in the evenings. Businesses are preparing to shut down, and our neighbors killed a sheep on their rooftop.

Happy 4th of July!

American holidays seem to come and go with little notice from us, but we found ourselves in Rabat this weekend at a 4th of July party that was being held for the American community. There were hamburgers, hotdogs, chips and ice cream, swimming, soccer and basketball. Even the Ambassador and his wife and the American icon, Ronald McDonald, made an appearance. There was no beer or fireworks though, which set it apart from the Butte celebrations of the past few years where there were plenty of both, but it was a fun time. We met a lovely Moroccan family whose sons go to the University of Minnesota. They invited us to stay in their home and offered to take us to the beach and cook fish for us. We were again reminded of the incredible generosity of the Moroccan people.

The week before, we were in Fez attending the first regional meeting since the PC reorganization. We met the health and environment volunteers who are also being phased out. The regional concept makes a lot of sense and we were interested to hear the ideas and activities of other sectors and to discuss how our projects can all hopefully fit into youth development in the future. Unfortunately it was boiling hot in Fez—well over 100—and our rooms in the cheap hotel affordable by PC were stifling. We were more than happy to move on to Rabat where the ocean breeze makes it at least ten degrees cooler. Summer is indeed upon us.

To the Beach

Another week, another training session--this time in a beach town near Rabat. I wasn’t excited about going because I’m not a beach person so it had little appeal for me. When we got there, however, the temperature was just right, the days were sunny and the nights were cool. The white noise of the ocean waves was much more sleep-inducing than the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs that we’re used to. The plumbing worked, but only for three days, after which the water ran only when you didn’t need it. We both experienced what felt like an electric current when touching the shower hose, so when it stopped altogether, at least we weren’t going to be electrocuted. It doesn’t seem possible but ………this is Morocco.

It was fun to be together again with the youth volunteers who are a high energy group, always organizing activities. There were tournaments and contests, music and dancing, and of course swimming and lying on the beach. One interesting aspect of being with the whole group again was observing the social interactions. Just like high school, the popular kids still sit together in the lunchroom.

Much of the discussion during the week concerned the reorganization of Peace Corps Morocco. Since the Small Business Development and Environmental sectors will be eliminated in 2012, there was a predictable amount of anxiety about the rest of our service, since none of us will be replaced. I plan to change my focus to transferring my skills as much as possible and helping my co-op to maximize the use of assets they already have. There is no point in introducing something which can’t be accomplished or mastered in the time we have left.

After training we took a train to Rabat to spend the weekend. The weather was perfect—sunny, yet cool days. There we indulged in some of our favorite activities like eating bacon cheeseburgers at the American Club and chocolate sundaes at McDonalds. Normally we steer away from places like this when we travel, preferring to eat where the locals do, but after being here for nine months, it’s a welcome respite from all things Moroccan. We tried out the new tram system which was supposed to start in February but just got going. There is work to be done on the scheduling, but they are clean (for now) and fast so it’s a great way to get through traffic and travel about the city without needing to elbow our way into a taxi.

Going back to REK we traveled with two other PCVs. One is six feet tall and has long red hair and speaks Berber, making her an instant attraction to every male in the country. Our taxi driver was so taken with her that he invited us all to his house. The transit guys are usually friendly and helpful, but none has ever done this before. She stalled him off with the usual “inshallah” but he got out at his turnoff where his son was waiting to drive us the rest of the way—perhaps thinking his son could be more persuasive.

Summer is upon us, and the coolest place in the house is the rooftop. It’s also a great place to people watch. Earlier this year, a neighbor built two more stories on his house and now the family across the street from them is building another story on their house. This is the answer to no zoning—when someone spoils your view, build higher. From our rooftop, which now has a partially blocked view, I watched several sheep being herded into a house. Three got away and ran for it, but several kids coming home from school rounded them up and dragged them back in. I haven’t seen them since. Also from the rooftop, I counted 22 men and two women out and about in the town. This is normal—in Morocco the men own the streets and the cafes and the night.

The Merry Month of May

We have been in Morocco eight months now and the time is flying by. May is nearly over and soon the summer heat will begin. We’ve been without electricity and water most of the weekend daylight hours so I’m catching up on my blog. I’m a little fuzzy since there was a wedding across the street last night and the outdoor band with loudspeakers played ALL night until 5 am. Apparently this is standard for weddings.

The first week of May we went to Rabat for another craft fair. This one was a private showing for the American community at the American Club with its beautiful grounds. I had designed some new price tags, a flyer and signs (definitely not my area of expertise) for perhaps better marketability of their products. Unfortunately, the Americans didn’t show up in force, and many co-ops, including mine, didn’t sell enough to pay their expenses. My artisans had a good attitude though—they saw family, chatted with other artisans, and had time to nap in the sun on their carpets on the rare-for-Morocco, extensive and well-groomed lawn behind the tent.

To get to Rabat, I rode on the souk bus with one of the artisans. She had commandeered the front seats right behind the driver. At first I thought this was a bonus, but as the bus rolled out at 3:30 a.m., the driver started chain smoking and turned up the speakers right above our heads so we could listen to prayerful chanting and beseeching over and over all the way to Rabat. For six straight hours. The door didn’t work properly so every time we stopped for another passenger, the ticket-taker had to spend several minutes slamming the door before he could go back to sleeping in the aisle.

This morning I bought some vegetables at the little market in the village. I was short 5 dirham, but the vegetable seller told me to just bring it next time. How often would that happen in the US? Of course everyone knows where we live. When the telephone repair guy came to town to fix our line recently, I saw him drive up to a coffee shop and ask a question. Several people simultaneously pointed to our door. I’m pretty sure he was asking where the Americans live.