wedding!

Dear ye, select few and steadfast readers of my dear blog, I finally have for you a real update. I know, right! I finally got up off my lazy ass, pulled myself out a a funk and did something…. Well not really my host sister got married so it would have been really shitty for me not to have gone, but went I did!

On this lovely election day (which I hope you all voted in) my host sister got married. Now, I say this but im not actually sure she did in fact get married today. I didn’t see the groom, I couldn’t pick him out of a line up, honestly I don’t know her husband from adam, but today was one (of 2? 3?) ceremonies. I showed up a little late, because by the time I got there at 3pm a bunch of ladies were mowing down on cous cous and my host sister was sitting on a tall couch wearing a fez embroidery dress with a big backdrop of a beautiful fezi tablecloth. Here’s a picture.. just kidding; because down here in berber back country we foreigners aren’t really welcome to take pictures, it’s strictly cultural. The wedding ceremony itself is segregated by gender, only younguns were allowed near the women, because these ladies let their hair down! Not really… they let their necks show but they are wearing these really cool bright yellow and red scarves with tassels that come down around the hair line and look like really funky hair. Anyways back to the pictures, according to my other host sister having me take a picture and possibly put it online is more or less equivalent to someone seeing them naked. So sadly, I have nothing to present here. I wanted to say I was planning on taking non stop artistic photo’s with faces omitted and hands and heads visible only, but it would have made people too uncomfortable so while it’s all still ripe and juicy in my head I’m going to write you all word pictures.

Fezi embroidery is really cool, really intricate and to me just a phenomenal piece of needlework. What makes it so unique is that it’s the same on the front and the back, so as an avid craft copier, who can generally pick something up and attempt an imitation (results vary) this embroidery is a serious puzzle. I could  not even fathom how to try to fake my way through this stitchery, I would definitely need to be taught (fingers crossed that it might happen this year at the women’s center) traditionally fezi is done on a white background with green thread, and the garment my host sister wore as well as the backdrop was no exception. The patterns were intricate and large, and really stunning, and served as her bridal throne background.

an example of fezi embroidery

So back to the beginning, I arrived as her henna was drying so she lay there prostrate her hands and feet covered in fabric and then covered in plastic bags. After everyone had finished eating everyone lounged around the courtyard area while her henna dried. Once the henna was set and match she changed rooms, ate some food herself, prayed and then changed into a lovely forest green and gold kaftan. Kaftan’s are a cool garment, usually containing some sort of glittery bling, long bell sleeves and a wide ass belt. Here’s a pic I snagged from the interwebs. They lent me a gold kaftan that fit me really well. picture to come later. 

a bunch of random ladies in a variety of kaftan's

Once everyone was ready, wearing some makeup the bride was paraded out to her sofa throne and a multitude of pictures were taken. There was a little bit of dancing and some music then there was some more sitting about. This was around 5 I think. From 5-10 I made friends with a bunch of kids most of which were around 8yo’s, and I have to say unilaterally 8 year olds are the best, I can get down with a bunch of little 8 yo’s, they laugh at my fake crying and play and dance crazy and make me feel super special. Later in the evening they gave me my own imaginary henna followed by an imaginary wedding and told me I looked like a queen. 8 year olds make me feel better about myself…. In a totally camp appropriate way. Anyways.

I also got to have a nice long chat with the lady part of the german couple who own a Kasbah (ait omar) here in n’kob, if you’re looking to travel to morocco, I suggest you stay here, it’s a truly beautiful place and they’re lovely people (and it’s veggie friendly!) anyways. During our conversation there was more drum playing and call and response sing-chanting, then the bride was paraded in again back in here fezi dress but this time covered in a veil that stayed on one way or another until the end of the night. After the bride sat down there was traditional line movement dancing with drums followed by the dance of the suitcases. The suitcases, I found out later, were filled with gifts (the luggage themselves also being part of the gifts I think…) these bags were placed on a litany of different women’s heads and danced in a closed circle. As a side tangent there’s a part of me that feels like Moroccan weddings are more for everyone else then they are for the bride. All night and day long this poor girl sat on her bridal throne, sure people came and sat with her from time to time but the rest of us could mill about and laugh and chat and eat together, she ate long after the rest of us with here sister under a sheet, still on her bridal throne. So that’s my small cultural observation.

After cous cous and stuff a huge part of the crowd left and then there was a little bit more of milling around before the sing-chanting commenced but behold, the bride is now on the floor covered by a sheet. I learned after that she was receiving a costume change into a beautiful teal kaftan and the aforementioned veil was then placed around her body into a very pretty pouffy covering. While the bride sat on the floor scarves that were given to her were placed on her head, I didn’t count but I would geuss there was somewhere near 20 or so. Once they all made their way onto her head they were held in place by a red cord with large circular sequins and tastefully small green pom pom type thigns. Then, accompanied by the beautifully haunting sound of the women doing call and response sing-chanting I believe the mother of the groom rubbed henna on the brides hands and feet then laced henna soaked yarn around her fingers and toes and secured them there. I also believe the more wearable gifts were then presented to her and she put them on. Once all of that was done the scarves were removed until only 4 remained, one covering her face, 2 covering the back of her head and one long sheer one going from her head to her shoulders. She really looked beautiful.

This wedding was really nice because I saw a bunch of people I’ve gotten to know this past year and I actually felt like I belonged here in a lot of ways, some of the women asked about when my classes were starting up which is always an ego boost, and being the hit of the kiddo’s is also an ego boost. But the wedding didn’t feel entirely joyful. There is something romantic, if it works out , in getting married to someone you don’t know, but to me it’s more of an idea that induces sheer terror and emotional mayhem. I could imagine some of that was present in my host sister as well. It’s almost as if she sat the whole time surveying all that she was about to leave, having people come sit by here one by one , people she will be saying goodbye to. After this wedding her life will irrevocably be changed (Sure divorce is legal and often accepted in morocco, but I don’t know if a lot of women can actually, culturally, take advantage of that right). Luckily she’s not moving that far away, only a few hours up the road into the city of ouarzazate, but in a culture where family is more or less everything, leaving your own has to be a tremendous challenge. I really admire that bravery.

As far as my first Moroccan wedding is concerned I’d give this one an A+. I feel kind of like I cheated because I didn’t have to do a whole lot of sitting around not knowing anyone in silence, because I knew a lot of people who attended, was entertained by chitlin’s and a lot of my friends who were there spoke English. But I was happy for the understanding repetitions of dirija, my feeble attempts at tashleheet and my poignant conversations in English. I feel like I learned  a lot today.

hello all. I have been blatantly avoiding the internet at this wonderful holiday season because of just that, the holiday season. I've noticed my emotional state here in Morocco can often have a direct correlation to my access to the internet. So in an effort to maintain my sanity, and avoid my favorite things about america so as not to miss them I have been "off the grid" so to speak.

this was my first christmas away from home where I didn't have a family to celebrate it with. I celebrated christmas in belgium when I lived there in 2002, but as it wasn't a muslim country most people there had some form of christmas celebrations, the streets were decorated and my family exchanged presents. It would be easy enough to totally ignore christmas here, turn off the internet, turn around your calendars and don't remind yourself when thanksgiving was. It seems like a good idea in theory but never really is in practice. I celebrated christmas in the same way I celebrated thanksgiving here, with a small group of wonderful peace corps volunteers where we tried our hardest to replicate our favorite things about the holiday in our own special way. I drew a christmas tree, we all made cookies and cooked things like mashed potatoes and mac and cheese. Being in homestay means I've been eating exclusively moroccan food since.... um... september. I do really love moroccan food, don't get me wrong, but I was beyond ready to eat some american fare. As a vegetarian here it's slim pickings. For starters all my food is cooked with meat and  most foods are cooked either in a pressure cooker or a pot called a tagine, where vegetables are simmered for hours with meat in the middle. It is very delicious, but it means crunchy crisp vegetables are few and far between. It's funny that you can sit at a table with a 1year old baby and he can eat the same carrots as you at lunch. (this totally happened the other day btw, they don't have baby food here, so unless they're breast feeding everyone eats the same as everyone else, even if you're a little pudgy baby). Digression aside and long story short, christmas was great. I got to skype with friends and family, there was a christmas tree! ( i drew it, see image below), i got to eat good food, make some cookies, listen to christmas music all day and watch it's a wonderful life.

Back to food, having heard other accounts of peace corps countries I know Morocco is pretty special in the fact that most families can afford to eat meat. I know many other peace corps countries meat is so expensive that it is only pulled out for special occasions. I don't know the logistics of it, but Moroccans are able to afford meat one way or another, but it struck me last night how different they go about eating it. In america you cook a whole small chicken for a family of 4 everyone taking a breast and a leg and mowing down on the delicious poultry goodness. Here a single drumstick is put in the center of the cous cous and divided among the family, 4-6 people. I've been struck by the wasteful/overindulgence of america before, but being in a county like Morocco can throw it in your face like a bucket of cold wet spaghetti.  An example of this is that for christmas we bought two chickens for seven people. (I of course ate mashed potatoes and crunchy green beans! yum).

In other news I am slowly becoming accustomed to what I call getting "Moroccoed". for example, yesterday I had a pretty important list of things I had to get done. I've managed to lose my bank card, and it's not as simple as it is in america. In america:
me: "hello customer service, I'd like to cancel my card and be re-issued a new one"
lady in florida or illinois answering customer service calls:"that will be no problem ma'am expect a new card in 5-10 business days"
then you can use your credit card for a few days until your new one comes in the mail. Nope, not here, here I have to go to the police, and fill out a declaration of i'm in idiot and lost my card with 2 pictures and a photocopy of your passport included, and to top it off a stamp for 20d. It's like being in the alice's restaurant song by arlo guthrie-" They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and

they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each 

one was to be used " to get a new card.  My police station is down the hill on the edge of town and I literally walked there and back 6 times to get this whole thing done, and it ended up costing close to 45 dirham. not cool... Anyways.... So that was on my list for the morning along with get money out from the post office via different means. All things were stopped in their tracks. No, we don't have bank checks, this town is too small, no one was using them, come back in 2 days. No you need to bring this that and the other thing, come back tomorrow. Then as I was walking around trying to find the puppies I saw in town the other day I ended up watching part of a wedding. This is what I call getting Moroccoed. You start out your day with certain ideas and intentions and goals and by one way or another your day ends out totally different. It's more often then not a good thing, but not always. Things like missed taxi's, no taxi's, bus fights, bad perfume, no electricity, gross misunderstandings- all getting moroccoed. But I also count things like your taxi driver that you've befriended buying you tea and bread for breakfast, a store owner giving you coffee and not letting you pay for it, the lady next to you on the bus absolutely refusing your "no, thank you" to her bread, cookies and fruit she's eating, and unexpected kindnesses and moments of awesomeness as getting moroccoed. Luckily for me I've been Moroccoed in the good way more then in negative ways.

It's interesting to me how easily i've allowed my life here to become habitual. While on skype with my mom the other day she asked me how things were and I realized how much I have come to accept things as fact here. Kid sitting on the curb roasting a cows head with a propane torch? no problem, totally normal! Walking buy the sheep skins outside the butcher shop? totally legit, where else would they put them? No cheese? alright come back tomorrow, maybe there will be more. Asking every shop on the street if they know what soy sauce is? well maybe i can find a bottle and they can get it for me. dogs just chilling on the street? no worries, they're not mean ( i just wish i could find the puppies!). I find it's easier to just find the things that would be abnormal, to be normal. If i spent my whole time here going "OMFG IM PEEING IN A HOLE IN THE GROUND! IM EATING WITH MY HANDS! WHY ARE THERE DOGS EVERYWHERE! AAAAH DEAD COWS! AAAAAAH! NO CHEESE! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" i would get tired really fast. Maybe I'm lucky in this capacity, I know not everyone has been able to accept these things as well. I also am very privileged in the fact that there is NO harassment whatsoever in my town. Verbal harassment and unwanted attention from men on the street can be a huge problem for female volunteers here and I feel so blessed that this is not part of my life. So, while this is not the life i'm used to, it's the life i have right now; and I can either choose to live in it, or choose to be outside of it, and I'd rather choose to be on the inside. I've also found that for the most part, everything does work out here, even if it's in ways you wouldn't expect it to. Sometimes the smallest thing can make the biggest difference.

the hardest thing so far from being away from home hasn't been the turkish toilets, hasn't been the lack of language (though that is hard), hasn't been internet, it's been the food (and of course being away from loved ones- but food is easier to write about). Man do I miss food in america. I would kill for some chinese food or thai food or sushi, cheap pizza, popcorn that pops all the way, potato chips, and cheddar cheese. I really miss bbq and cheese products. I'm curious to see how this changes once i get into my own place, should be exciting, trying to cook american through moroccan ingredients. luckily i have a cookbook for moroccan volunteers to guide me and even though I haven't had a kitchen since I lived in seattle 2 years ago, I think i still have the skills to whip together some pretty good meals. Pictures will of course, follow, unless it tastes bad and looks like mush.

Monday I move into my own house! my regional manager managed to get me this AMAZING (and huge!) house for a really good price, she's a tough cookie and bargained the heck out of it. I'm impressed,  and I hope to channel her skills whenever i bargain or deal with difficult situations from here on out.  This is the first time EVER I will EVER be living alone. I am so excited and so nervous! I get to furnish the house myself (which is scary, what with the limited funds and  the need to bargain all my household items, should be fun. ), I get to listen to my music all the time, eat when i want, sleep when i want (kind of) and have some solid alone time. This is definitely a new experience for me. I have lived in so many ways; a bunch of people crammed into one space, cabins with kids, dorms, hotel rooms, tents, home-stays in 4 different countries, cabins with grown ups, house with roommates- but never alone. This is me becoming a grown up. I will have rent to pay, dishes i can only blame myself on, electricity and water bills and no one coming to make my bed while I'm at a load-in/performance, or the girls campus head coming to grade our cabins to motivate me to keep my stuff in order. As an american it's kind of ridiculous that at 25 years old i've only paid rent once in my life and i've never lived alone. But in a Moroccan context it's kind of ridiculous that I'm not staying with a host family and instead choosing to live alone. This has been a hard thing to communicate, but I hope I have done it well enough, and I know myself well enough to know that my relationship with my host family would deteriorate if i had to stay here for two years. This is sort of the next big step in my time here and that should be happening on monday. I might be spending the next few weeks living sparse until I've bought everything for my house, so it's kind of like a squatters camping trip, definitely a new adventure.  I don't know when I'll get internet again, but expect a video tour of the house before it's furnished and then again later down the road when I've done some work.

Alright! that's all for now, sorry my blog updates have been so few and far between. I'm probably going to buy an internet stick so I can have internet more regularly, because it will work out to be cheaper then going to the cyber cafe once a week, and also a lot more comfortable to be online and once i'm on my own i wont feel guilty for using it at random times in my room,  (and I can listen to music on 8tracks.com my favorite site ever). So we shall see! Enjoy the pictures!

 Sunset over the mountains

 A view of them montains from a day i went on a walk. 

 The mountains and the gardens

 Town from the backside.  One of my favorite things about N'kob is the fact that the majority of the houses are made out of mud, so they almost blend into the landscape.  

 Christmas cookies! I  have made these thumbprints in every country I have lived in. I tried some with nutella knock off- super tasty. but I'm always partial to the jam ones. 

 The Christmas tree I drew for us! 

 A view of the wedding clothing, I can't wait to see a full berber wedding! hopefully this summer. 

The wedding procession from behind.