The past few weeks at my training site have brought a good deal of excitement. The birth of a new baby girl in Sarah’s home-stay family was cause for celebration throughout my community. Numerous parties were held at her home the following week and on one occasion all of the women in the community gathered for a feast. Large platters of food including whole chickens and noodles topped with a sweet mixture of ground peanuts, cinnamon and sugar were shared by the group. Lively music was played and after the feast was feasted, dancing commenced. Many women partook in the vivacious movement including, to the amusement of those present, me.
The actual naming ceremony was held one week after the baby’s birth and boasted the killing and eating of an entire goat, along with the collective naming of the baby. Here, the name is decided by a vote of family and friends, rather than the parents. I think it could be quite entertaining to adopt this practice in the US.
Easter also came to my training site, though prior to the date I was unsure if I could celebrate it at all. Morocco is a largely Muslim country and, as you can imagine, holidays such as Easter are not generally celebrated by the local population. After some contemplation I concluded that Easter has always been about spending time with people I care about and doing festive activities. With a little creativity I was able to, in a small way, have Easter in Morocco.
Sarah made an American-style lunch and invited us over to share it with her and her home-stay family. We also found a culturally appropriate, festive Easter activity to partake in after lunch. Many families in my community own farm animals, including cows, goats, sheep, chickens, and rabbits. We went to Tim’s house and spent a good part of the afternoon playing with his baby bunnies. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate.
This past weekend I had my own adventure. We had a day off to leave our training sites and I decided to meet some friends from another training group in a small town about 30KM away. I took a “tranzit” to the town and was happy that my first experience traveling alone in Morocco was successful. The community was settled in the mountains and the red cliffs nearby reminded me of Arizona. We stayed at a small, locally owned hotel, with a beautiful view. We cooked dinner in the kitchen, relaxed outside on cushions beneath a small pavilion and spent time talking, playing drums, and learning songs from some Moroccan friends. It was a wonderfully relaxing day. Unfortunately, the events leading up to it were quite the opposite.
Prior to leaving, a disaster struck, of which my entire town talked about. I wanted to get my camera and sneakers out of my class room to use on my trip. When I arrived, there was a swarm of bees buzzing around the entrance to my school. Honey was being harvested and the bees were not happy. Being the optimist that I am I decided that the bees would leave me alone if I left them alone. As I got closer to the entrance, I was swarmed. Bees flew in my hair, down my sweater, and stung me through my clothes. Neighbors began shouting, “Sukaina, tezla!!” I did as they instructed and started running away from the school, yelling and pulling off my long sweater in an attempt to rid myself of the swarm. It was a spectacle. Days later, people were still asking about the bee attack. “Tamara aya!” It was a disaster, I would explain in an animated voice; a response that always got a good laugh. Fortunately I am not allergic to bees and was only left with some welts, a little embarrassment, and a funny story.
Every day brings new experiences and new adventures like these, which is part of what I love about being here. I’m looking forward to the last few weeks at my training site and to the adventures that living and working in my very own site will bring, just hopefully no more “Tamara aya.”
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