Kill Bill volume childhood

This morning my host mom and sister had some kind of fight. I know because when my little sister whines it’s nails on a chalkboard times twenty and when she screams I wish I was back in America because that’s how far I’d have to travel in order not to hear her. My family doesn’t fight a lot, I’d say they get along pretty well considering they have a nine year old girl and a fourteen year old son. If I remember those years in my childhood correctly I would say they were not the most peaceful between my sister and I or between my sister and my parents (I always got along great with the rents, though, right?) Anyway, I’d say there is a normal amount of family discontent, but there’s this thing in Moroccan culture I call acceptable violence and I don’t really understand it. So at lunch today, my host mom was showing me where Miriam had bit her this morning- and it was this huge black and purple bruise!! I was appalled. But my host mom was laughing about it and assured me that she had punished Miriam by hitting her for it. And it’s common, that when my siblings do fight, there is almost always hitting and kicking involved, and my host parents just kind of sit there and let it happen, sometimes they tell them to stop, or try to hold one of them back. In general, though, it’s like this violence between kids is just expected and therefore acceptable. I see it on the street a lot, too. Kids are mean to each other, and physically so. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen school kids beating up on each other or shoving each other around. Sometimes there is even playful laughing during the whole affair or if not during then after. A lot of times during what I think are fights my host sister will kind of squeal and then giggle and I can’t tell if it’s like a game of “Mercy” or if she is going to be a victim of death by sibling if someone doesn’t intervene. So is it just Moroccan kids being kids? I guess, but it’s definitely not something I’m used to and not really something I want to get used to. Physical violence makes me very uncomfortable and I certainly don’t think it’s a good way to teach any kind of lesson. In fact, I think that the lesson that should be taught is that violence is unacceptable, that beating up your friends or siblings is not a good way to have fun, and that the idea of hitting or kicking someone should make you feel like hailing Muhammad Mary’s for a year until your soul is cleansed of those horrible thoughts. If I ever have a kid they are going to be so screwed up- and probably beaten up now that I think about it. So that’s where I’m at- terrified of child violence; and raising any future children in an overprotective bubble and filing their teeth down so they can’t bite me.

don't know how to....

In both gender studies and culture class, we have been talking about how no one here is accustomed to living on their own. From the day she pops you out of the womb ol’ mommy does everything for you until the day you move out to live with your own spouse. There is no period of living alone, doing things for yourself, if you’re a girl your mom slowly passes down her homemaking knowledge to prepare you to pop out your own kids and that’s that. In the coming age of modernity, though, this is becoming a problem as more and more Moroccan youth leave home for college, or travel to European countries for a better education. They don’t know how to live on their own, and it’s a bad kind of dependence on the family. Sure, the U.S. might be individualistic, but there are some real benefits to having a well educated and independent youth population.
A few of the gaps in the education of living that I have noticed of late:
Well, obviously, sex education; I’m amazed that the Moroccans have any kids at all because Allah only knows how they figure out what sex is or means. It’s scary, actually, at the women’s conference I went to they were talking about how sometimes in rural areas, girls wont know they are pregnant until they are several months along because they don’t know how to read the signals from their bodies’ or that pregnancy comes from having sex. Of course, these are extreme cases, but still, the process behind reproduction is very much taboo. I am amazed and amused that my host mom has started talking to me lately about periods. She asks if I am “frustrated with blood” (translated literally, but it’s not actually weird like it sounds in English). The Always pad commercial, too, has a really catchy theme song that my host sister sings along with all the time. So I think this is changing, albeit like most changes, very slowly. But, I also know from gender class, unfortunately, that beyond a quick lesson on natural reproduction in bio class at who knows what age, sex ed is not a part of the Moroccan school system.
The same type of black hole has sucked up nutritional education. My host brother, I guess, is trying to lose weight. When the subject first came up, though, it was this big family discussion as to what exactly he should do to achieve this end. They asked me what people in America did to lose weight and argued about what kind of exercise he should participate in. He doesn’t eat as much as he used to, I have noticed, but his restriction is only in quantity and not so much in quality of food. He only had cake and custard for dinner last night, for example. Like sex ed, there is never any lesson in school beyond bio 101 about what kind of food or exercise is good for you body. I mean, obviously Moroccans, especially educated Moroccans, know. I don’t want to paint this picture of this ignorant people who don’t know cookies from vegetables or sex from riding a bike. They’re by no means stupid- my host family knows what a diet is and I’m pretty sure they’re towards the bottom of the educated class. It’s just that it’s not a formal part of education. There is no food pyramid with stairs up the side to tell Muhammad how many snails are in one serving. Combine these gaps in schooling with never being taught how to do your own laundry, or cook your own meals, or balance your own budget, or take care of your own house, and now we have a problem when it becomes increasingly common that little Muhammad or Miriam gets the chance to go live on their own for college in France. Fahemmt? (you understand?) So that’s what I’ll be telling my kid, “do your own damn laundry and be grateful for it.”

A food post- in honor of Couscous Friday

So my mom (real mom, not host mom) recently asked me what the food was like, here, and as long as I don’t have to think about it once being alive, everything is absolutely delicious. My host mom is a really good cook, and even though I am more opposed than ever to eating meat, I don’t always feel terrible about not being a vegetarian when her dishes are so letheeth (tasty). There are a few things here, though, that I just am not into, the biggest of them being snails. I don’t know if you have ever smelled snail soup, but it is nasty in a way that makes you want to vomit it up before it even gets near your mouth and the Moroccans absolutely love it. It’s a huge delicacy and you’ll find street carts with crowds of people around drinking this poop colored soup and then picking the snail bodies out of their shells with little sticks. I did try it, because I have made an arrangement with myself that I will try anything once, and the soup part was not as bad as it smells, it’s kind of just really salty flavored water. Eating a snail, however, seems to me like what eating a big booger would be like. Not a fan, especially when you can see their little antennae, and especially after my host sister carries them around the room the day before like a pet. The other things I don’t like so much are leben- which as far as I can tell is sour milk and kefta- this weird seasoned ground beef that comes in rare cooked meatball form.
The best foods here are everything else my host mom makes, the oranges and anything made with fruit, and the delicious delicious honey custard. The honey here is to die for, it is straight from the comb, as is the jam straight from the fruit. I guess it comes as no surprise that when you don’t have a fridge, everything has to be fresh- go figure. I plan on getting a Moroccan cookbook before I leave so I can attempt to re-create some things back home. They have approximately one million ways to cook bread like substance here, and I figure none of them can be too hard. It would be better if I could just bring my host mom back with me though, she is really an amazing cook. She always tells me to just call up Obama and ask for her Visa. I reply with, oh I already spoke with him, he said it’s no problem (we are so clever with our jokes). Her favorite group of people to joke that I am friends with are; President Obama, Hilary Clinton, Saddam Hussein, Osama Bin Laden, and Margaret Thatcher. How old Margie got into this mix I will never know.

Tonight I was talking with my host dad about how I should just stay with them forever and never go back to America. I would live with them, for no money, and find a Moroccan man if I wanted, and I would have the life of a Moroccan, just sitting with my family and sleeping. Even though we were just joking, the truth of it is, what they wanted to paint as a Moroccan paradise- is my nightmare. I am sooo not a sitter. I love Morocco, but even though my family and I have great conversations, I just have to do more stuff. I like to be busy, and I wake up early to run, and I have been playing a lot of solitaire at night because there is just not a lot to do here but I need to do more than sleep after I eat dinner. I know I’m not alone in a feeling of overall boredom; my classmates and I often make plans for weekends and evenings because we all agree that sitting at home is somewhat agonizing, as much as we all love our host families. We plan weekend trips because we want to see the countryside and other cities, but also because after you’ve been in Fes for one weekend you’ve pretty much exhausted the outing possibilities. This weekend I was excited because there was supposed to be this big Suffi music festival going on. Well, as usual, Morocco was more talk than happening, and though there were some suspicious looking Berbers camped out in Bab Bajloud, I saw no music festival. There may have been one, but no one could tell me where or when it was and the streets were all as quiet as ever come nine o’clock, with the exception of maybe a few more Euro tourists. In a lot of ways I like the relaxed pace here. I definitely love the family togetherness; I absolutely adore my host mom and sister especially. But in the long term I want more than time to just sit and sleep. I want time to fill with stuff. With family and friends and running and studying and a job I like and going out and seeing things and enjoying the outdoors and dancing and… making my life. Obviously I keep busy here too, but I feel like that is more because I am me, than because of Morocco. My host family I’m pretty sure thinks I’m nuts. They tell me a lot that I need to stay home and sleep during the weekend. I just can’t do it though. I’m thinking about all this, too because I’m starting to feel like my time here is coming to an end and I was trying to decide how to make the most of my last month. What is it that I really want to do in Morocco? Well, I want to travel more, so that’s good,and I also want to spend time with my host family, and just be in Fes, but I’m not really sure what else there is for me to do here. I’ve explored, I’ve met people, I’ve sat in cafes for hours, I’ve done as the Moroccans do, and now, I want to do more. I want to do as the Jennifer’s do- and some of that needs to be done past 11:00 and pretty much all of that needs to be done not in front of the TV. I’m have plenty to do with school, and homework, and Arabic, and language, and studying, and Arabic, and did I mention school or studying at all- because if I finish all that I could also study more. But I want other things again outside of being a student. I like to relax, but I really appreciate the variety of opportunities that I have in America. For now, I would prefer to save the sitting and sleeping for my old and decrepit years and live my twenties out and about; running, exploring, and ruckusing (the verb for “to dance” in Arabic but sounds a lot like creating a ruckus to me…)

I wrote this today...

I had spring break in Spain. I feel pretty good about that. Made a pit stop by Gibraltar on the way, which is just about the cutest place you’ve ever seen in your life! Picture someone taking a delightful little British town and plopping it down on this huge rock in the middle of the Mediterranean. There were monkeys and red telephone booths, Mosaic fountains and fish and chips- it’s kind of an opposite twilight zone- something just that weird but instead of being scary in any way at all everything about it is adorable and happy. It was also so nice to be in an place where I could understand everything. Reading a sign that said, “mind the step” was doubly enjoyable because not only was it in English, it was cute British English! Spain was a much needed cultural break. There were toilets, and toilet paper, and soap, and drinking water, and (mom don’t read this) alcohol, and women in full force, and runners, and tank tops, and gorgeous churches, and clean streets, and clean linens, and big ice cream cones. I met up with a high school classmate who was studying in Seville, (crazy, by the way, what a small world this is that two girls from Ames high will just get together for Tapas in Spain) and we were talking about our experiences and cultural differences. I was telling her how great it was that I didn’t get cat called here- that women actually go out in public and it’s normal to wear just about anything. She replied with, “oh yeah, but that happens a lot here too, the Spanish are very forward and men will harass you a lot.” I decided we must not have the same definition of “a lot.” To me it means every time I step out my front door (literally, my next door neighbor is a little boy with an eye patch who snaps at me). So yeah, Spain was a bit more progressive. I didn’t really miss Morocco while I was gone but I was really happy when I came back. The thing that made me the most excited was that I felt again like I was in a country that I could understand the language! Gibraltar was great for a day but in Spain I was stuck with “gracias” as the extent of my Spanish. Coming back to Morocco I realized again just how much better my Arabic is, because I felt like I could communicate! Of course, once I started class I again felt incompetent, but still, it was there for a second- the “I know this!” The whole thing made me think a lot about going back to the U.S. in just over a month, in shah allah. I’m preparing for culture shock extreme, looking forward to a lot of things, but also very said to think of some things not being in my life again for a long time. If anyone speaks or knows someone who wants to talk to me in Arabic, give me a number. Also, I don’t think I will be using silverware for a long time, so if we dine together upon my return, forgive me. I’m also wondering what life will be like when I have more than two shirts to choose from in my wardrobe. I would just like to say, if you happen to look at any pictures of mine- pretend I’m not wearing the same thing every day. Please. Oh Morocco, you are strange but you are home and what will life be like when I return to things like democracy and Target!?!

I wrote this yesterday(ish)

So we were talking yesterday in gender class about how literacy and education are the keys to women’s empowerment in the Arab world. Fatima (the teacher) was talking about her research in rural areas and the attitudes of women there. We do a lot of cultural comparisons so we were discussing what education means to people in the U.S. too. My class concluded that pretty much, in the States, people value education for the employment opportunities it creates. That is not meant to sound completely materialistic, although it kind of does. I don’t think it’s just about money, though, but also what kind of job you can have, one that you like, or not, what kind of hours or how hard you have to work, etc. but the main point is that my education is for me, for my life and what I want to do with it. According to Fatima this is very different from Moroccan women. She said that to them, education means three main things; first and most important, educated women are better mothers, second, they are more aware of their rights, and lastly, they have better employment opportunities. What is interesting to me here about the difference in the meaning of education in the two cultures is not as much the patriarchy, but more how American culture focuses so strongly only on the individual and here it is all about the family unit. It’s hard not to feel selfish in Moroccan society sometimes; it’s so different from the U.S. where things are all about you, you, you. Individualism is not all evil, it does have its pros, but it just makes me feel even worse about illiteracy in this country. These women don’t even want to be educated for themselves, but for their children!! Al Hemdu Allah (praise be to God) let’s build some schools!
Fatima mentioned that sometimes she hears people ask if uneducated women are aware of their situation, or if they are content to be as they are. She told us a story from when she was doing research when a rural, illiterate woman she was interviewing pointed to a cow and said, “You see that animal? That cow is better than me because I cannot read. Without education I am nothing.” So, yes, they are aware that there are things they are missing, especially rights they are supposed to have under the new family code, like the right to not be beaten by their husbands or inheritance. Hard to enforce your own rights when you can’t read them.
After the cow story Fatima also told us about how these women were kissing her hands and praising her, saying how high and mighty she was. She said she felt embarrassed because she knew she was no better, no smarter, no different than them- just really freaking lucky. There is no way to know just how close I was to being anyone else, but I think I agree with Fatima that I just picked a long straw. So I live in America and am now enjoying my years of post-secondary education with the possibility of more without being any different than the woman whose straw was a lot shorter. What do I take from all this? Well, first of all, don’t take anything for granted. Your education, the fact that you can read street signs, and restaurant menus, and instructions on forms, the fact that you know you have certain rights, your ability to look up other random rights, your ability to take care of your children, the fact that I know how to write this blog because I can stream together ideas and express them concretely in a manner that others can understand. Thanks long straw. Also, I take from our discussion that things have to change so regardless of gender, people everywhere get to learn to read. In shah Allah, I will find my role in that. In shah Allah everyone will.

I wrote this a while ago...

So the professor of my gender studies class is a really nice professor from the local university, and she is determined to rid us of our negative images and stereotypes of Islam. The only thing is, we don’t really have negative stereotypes of Islam, maybe some misconceptions, but especially the Muslim girl in the program, we have all been exposed to the religion before and we are all college educated, studying abroad, and so are at least somewhat accepting of and knowledgeable about religious diversity. In Fatima (my professor)’s view, however, this is not the case. She asked us what we associated with Islam, and my “devout religious people” somehow turned into “religious fanaticism and extremism” when she wrote it on the board. She also wrote terrorism and violence though I don’t think anyone said those at all. My friend Erin was saying how when she was in middle school she had traveled to Syria, so she was exposed to even a more extreme version of Islam then but thought that things like the call to prayer were really beautiful and the people were so friendly, and Fatima asked, “but before you went you were afraid, right?” Erin leaned over to me and whispered, “before I went I was in eighth grade and had a crush on a boy in my art class and didn’t really think anything about Islam.” According to Fatima, a negative image of Islam as some kind of “opposition to modernity,” is not just limited to westerners. She says that the students in her class, even the Muslim ones, see their religion as traditional and unmoving in the face of modern culture. So, she took a long time outlining how Islam calls for interpretation and change, how it is a religion of scholars and scientists, and how inherently it is all about gender equality, these things have just been overruled by patriarchal traditions that have corrupted Islam’s true meaning. Well, of course, with me, she is preaching to the choir, which makes for kind of a boring lecture, but I do want to remember some things in particular that I think are really beautiful about the religion of Islam when you look at how those things have positively manifested themselves in Arab societies (as opposed to the gender equality thing, which hasn’t quite caught hold).
First, is the idea of helping your neighbor. The public services here pretty much just suck. There is no social security and very little public funding for any kind of medical care or anything like that unless you work for the government. But the social services, in reality are not as terrible because people really do take care of each other. People give to beggars what they don’t need, you can call on any family at any time for anything, and the whole network of favors is just kind of amazing. Definitely not a replacement for official help, but still amazing. Everyone really is family in this country and the loyalty and help to that family is a number one priority.
Next, in Islam there is nothing separating you from God, which I think is really special. There is no third party, no mediator; they have religious scholars and people who sing prayers but no priests or anyone to confess too. If you want to talk to God, well, there you go. This also means that there is no hierarchy within the “church” (in theory). Everyone is equal because everyone is directly connected to Allah.
I also really like how Islam and the Quran encourage education and the continuous re-interpretation of texts. Life was made to change and grow and the religion places a lot of importance on knowledge and reading and growing in faith. Now, of course you can point to people who claim that modernization is Westernization and demoralization but I think that more and more even in the Arab world, people are regaining a commitment to re-read religious texts and apply them aptly to today’s world, stressing the benefits of technology and education for all Allah’s people.
Finally, there is the idea in Islam that you should live and love. As in, self control is good, but self deprivation is bad. Sex is not evil (ok so alcohol is evil, but whatever) but eating is good and running is good and enjoying life is good! Sure, they fast during Ramadan, but overall, earthly pleasures are not evil and you shouldn’t do things that keep you from enjoying this life. Don’t overindulge, but live a little.
I know that these things are not unique to Islam, you can find similar ideas in a lot of religions and sects and blah. But what I have seen in Morocco is that because it is such a religious country, when these aspects of Islam are good parts of society they are really really really good. So, myth busted, not all Muslims are terrorists. And guess what, every religion has its dark spots in history and modern life but remember the loving your neighbor part? That part could/can/does do so much more.

oh, Morocco.

Yesterday I discovered that apparently they don't tell you when you get package slips from the post office here, so I asked the desk if there was anything and then gave me a slip and said to take it to the post office and to bring my passport. So this morning I left early to go to what I thought was the main branch of the post office, pretty close to my school. I got there with my package slip and showed it to the sole worker in a very small office and here is where language difficulties got the best of me. She was trying to explain something to me, but I couldn't understand. She didn't ask for it, but I figured maybe she wanted my passport since I had been told to bring it so I showed it to her. She examined it, politely now I think, and told me again something I did not understand at all and I couldn't figure out why she wasn't getting me my package. After frustrated minutes of trying to understand each other, a line had formed behind me, and I finally asked in Arabic, "Is my package here??" Well, no. It was at another post office. so she told me to take a taxi to "blah blah blah" but by now I needed to get to school so I asked her if it was close and it was so then I asked where it was thinking I could go later. she replied again with "take a taxi to blah blah" so I said, no where is it, I want to walk. She looked at me, annoyed, and a man in line says, "here, I'll take you." So he grabs my arm and starts to chit chat with me as the Moroccans do as we walked down the street to Allah knows where. He took my package slip and carried it for me and looked both ways before he held my arm as we crossed the street. he did tell me fairly quickly that he was not married, but I was pleasantly surprised when I was not proposed to. We walked for about ten minutes and he told me about his family, etc and finally got to this hole in the wall post office building number two. I got the amazing box my wonderful family had sent me. (I love you parents!!) And this man went on his way after making sure I left the post office safely with package in tow. And that, is why the people here amaze me.

My other friendly interaction of late is with this adorable store owner who I stopped by yesterday for the first time and he was so friendly because he said he had seen me running every morning. He insisted that I stop by every day now and talk with him for five or ten minutes to practice my language.

My Arabic soul, as one of my teachers calls it, is very happy right now, minus the test it has to take tomorrow. But, after that, inshahallah, spring break in Spain! Whose life is this!??!

I cannot believe that it is already April. I am more likely to believe that it is February 4- when I see the date written with the day first and then the month it still confuses me. You can take the girl off the farm but you can’t make her learn things like the metric system or to write the date differently. Speaking of which, I had a strange lesson about the difficulties of globalization today. there are issues harder to make sense of than even the 24 hour clock.
Just before dinner I was called over to the computer by my host brother and he gestured to the screen and asked me to read. He had gotten some junk e-mail, but it was in English, and it was that kind that talks really personally, “Hey, I just got this I-pod from this website and it’s so great. Stuff here is really inexpensive and you get just what you pay for! Etc. etc.” My host brother asked me to translate it for him, so I kind of chuckled and gave him my best attempt at a translation, expecting that he would get the point that it was just trash. Instead, he opened up several other e-mails from the same address, all in English, all telling him to buy whatever electronics from one website or another. He kept asking me earnestly what they were saying, telling me they were e-mails from his “friend”. I asked him if he knew this person, and he said he did, so I tried to more politely to tell him that he should just ignore the e-mails. It then became a family affair, and both my host mom and dad asked me what Muhammad’s “friend” had said. I asked my brother how he knew this guy and he said through the internet, a chatroom or something. And I felt bad explaining that in America, online, you can “meet” people but it’s not real and when they ask for your money, you should be careful and probably just ignore it. Now, Moroccans aren’t stupid, and the internet didn’t come here yesterday, but there are deep cultural roots in the intimacy of personal relationships and friendship and I think this has the potential to make people, especially less educated people, like my 14 year old brother, more vulnerable to online scams. In America, we are used to impersonal relationships, but even still you hear horror stories about meeting crazies online and thinking they are people they are not. It’s hard to think what this might mean for a Moroccan whose culture is that if you call someone a friend, it’s very real, and business transactions are no different. Also, the abundance of technology in the West, in reality, is too good to be true to lower class Moroccans, so it’s really hard to separate that from swindlers who are literally “too good to be true.” I don’t actually know how general this case is, but at least with my host brother I felt like he needed a lesson in American/electronic culture more than an English translator. He also might not be the brightest crayon in the box, though, I don’t get the impression that school is his favorite subject and in general sometimes he just acts kind of like a doofus. Maybe there are some things that are cultural universals; 14 year old boys are kind of just doofuses and little brothers are obnoxious at times. Don’t poke me when I’m brushing my teeth, I don’t like it, what part of my frowning, foaming mouth don’t you understand, Muhammad?