Morocco, round two: a second chance

This time around it was a much more profound and meaningful experience. I made more important relationships with my host family and I learned more about the culture that I never got around to understanding the first time. A week is not enough. Two weeks are not enough. But if you're lucky and you meet the right people who let you in and share their lives with you, you will see another side to Morocco. Many people when they go to Morocco say, "It's dirty, it's smelly, blah blah blah." Sure by Western standards it is much dirtier and smellier, hygiene is a different concept and toilets are holes in the ground and if you happen to find a public toilet that is 1. Western and/or has a flush and 2. has toilet paper, you've hit the jackpot. This combined with the fact that the families make you eat SO MUCH FOOD and you maayyyy get digestive issues as a side treat... it can make your "adventure" in Morocco... strategic haha. This kind of took away from my first experience, to be completely honest. I had some criticism for the country and the trip that was organized for us. But this time, by the end of the week, I was like, "Hey, I could live here in the medina with no shower or Western toilet, no room to myself and no heating at home. I could go to the hammam every Friday and I could learn to negotiate in the markets. I could learn to respect the female-male relations and the restrictions - and joys- of the religion." Do I want to ? Not particularly... my heart lies in Marseille. But there is a part of me that thinks in a parallel life I'd do pretty dang well in Morocco. I am sure that I will go back now as I made meaningful relationships with my host family and I now know I always have a home in Fez. WHEN I will come back to France, I will most certainly come back to Morocco as well, it's kind of a package deal. At the end of my stay, I didn't expect to cry, but as I saw all the girls in the family begin to cry, I couldn't stop myself. I realized the impact they had made on me and perhaps the impact I made on them. It was such a lovely feeling. And I do truly miss them already.

My family was large. Fatiha lives with her two sisters and her brother and her father, that's 5. Her sister Nadia has a husband 6 children: 3 girls 3 boys: that's 7. Her brother has a wife and three children, that's 4 more. They also live with an older couple who rents a room, that's 2 more. Each time I count I get a different number but I think the final number is 18. EIGHTEEN people lived in that giant and beautiful old riad. And no one was ever alone. At one point 12 members of the family were all in the living room at once, laughing and talking, conversations overlapping and cries of the young ones interrupting. It was a chaotic harmony and it was great. We spent our evenings watching Mexican soap operas dubbed in Arabic. Watching The Voice and Arab Idol and X Factor- All Arabic versions. We talked (through Fatiha as my Arabic is extremely limited- although I was able to follow the subjects of conversations as I could understand several words) about the contestants and they were impressed when I followed who was winning and who was voted off. We shared funny moments and cute 5 year old Adam danced a la marocaine for everyone. We talked about cultural differences and all kinds of things. And although I couldn't directly communicate with each member of the family, I never felt uncomfortable, I always felt welcomed and accepted as part of the family. It meant a lot to me.

By the end of the week I was able to lead the way home. The medina is a complicated MAZE and we had to go through tiny passage ways and tunnels to find her home. I should have taken a video of the walk home. Dammit! That would have been cool... but just imagine a medieval village with small twisting passage ways and shortcuts and tunnels and heavy but small doors that are hidden in the shadows, that open up to bright and decorated courtyards. It's magical.

I was disappointed to not be with the group for most of the week as Brenda and I were at the orphanage, but I still wouldn't change a thing. Brenda and I had the time to reflect on what we observed and absorb what we were experiencing... the children have a good situation for what it is. They go to school, they have three meals a day and snacks, they have nurses who "mother" them and regulate their days, they have janitors that keep the conditions clean and healthy, they have activities and excursions and sports. They have a balanced life. All except for the fact that they don't have a family structure and in many children you could tell their behavior was just a pleading cry for attention and love. It's basic child psychology. And sometimes they were mean. They were too smart for their own good. And as males, they are allowed to be a certain way that wouldn't be acceptable in the Western world (10 year old boys sticking their hands in your shirt, 5 year old boys pulling your shirt to see down it or just plain grabbing your chest, or just staring at your body in general). And I wonder, without a family structure, what are these boys going to grow up to be? What men will they be in ten, fifteen, twenty years? It's kind of a scary thought.

There were 125 boys and only 2 girls. Most of the children are born out of wedlock or in an affair and are therefore (because of Muslim society) abandoned. They live at the hospital until the age of three and are sent to an orphanage until the age of 12. If they find a place to go at age 12, they are taken care of until 18. At 18, I believe the government has little to no options for them. But even the 12 year olds at Dar Atfal did not know where they would soon end up. It was heartbreaking. I will never forget 7 year old Hind who said, "You have a mom?" to Brenda, and 5 year old Asharaf who was given up by his mom the week we got there, and 12 year old Wahid who schooled me and Brenda in French grammar- he was so dang smart. We had the chance to talk with the nurses, which is one of my favorite parts of the mini job shadow/internship.
A lot of kids ask about their parents, but have never known a parents love...

Here are the my favorite photos from my week:

My homestay ^^

Camel!!!

The class

Typical meal at home

Brenda, breakin' hearts since 1992 :P 

Outside our "bathroom" window, midday

Volubilis once again

Brenda, Fatiha and I

Annie, Mary, Chloe and Brenda and I

Can you say Henna??

Adam!!

Outside the window, morning. To me, this shot is Morocco in a nutshell

Sylvie!

Fatiha and I

Annie Mary and I 

 Lourdes, Brenda and I

Soukaina

Part of the family

Suzi, Brenda and I with the veil 

That one time in Morocco when I bathed with 50 other women...

Only in Morocco (and perhaps other Arab countries) is this statement not weird. If you know a little bit about Morocco or other Arab/Muslim countries and their institutions, you will know what the hammam is. The hammam is the public baths. There are modern and older ones, and there are different hours for men and women. The average number of times that people go to the hammam is once a week. I repeat, once a week. For a Westerner who's used to showering every day to every other day and washing their hair about as often as such, taking one shower a week is almost unimaginable. But for Moroccans, most can only afford to pay for themselves or the whole family once per week. My correspondent also explained to me that if you go more than twice (2 times per week is the maximum usually) in one week, people will assume you did something immoral and are coming to the hammam to "wash away your impurity." I totally don't understand what's socially wrong with keeping clean more than 1 per week. But that's my Western self talking. Of course the religion plays into that, and then after I went... everything made a lot more sense.

So first of all, this hammam is more than 300 years old. It's located smack in the middle of the Old Medina where I stayed in an old, traditional riad. I obviously couldn't take a picture of the hammam while I was there, but I scrounged the internet and found this picture. This is THE exact hammam I went to, and I found the picture on this blog, so it's not mine, but the person talks about hammams quite accurately in my opinion: Hammams. 

There were holes in the ceiling to let in light and for air circulation. You could see worn paint on the walls where there once were frescoes. Through the doorway on the left, that was the hot room. In the corner there was a fountain were you collect the hot water with buckets. There are three rooms, this room is the medium heat room and through the columned doorway straight ahead and to the right was the cold room. You can mix the water to your liking and you pick a corner in the room and start scrubbing away with henna (it's actually a plant that is used for many things body-related) and natural black soap for exfoliation and cleansing. You use like a little glove washcloth that it somewhat rough and you scrub for hours to take off all the dead skin. I know it's gross. But I can't tell you how soft my skin was afterwards. Like, I bet my skin hasn't been that soft since I was fresh out of the oven as a newborn. Seriously.. It was amazing. And then I began to understand why people wait all week long. It's like a spa essentially, and I have to admit, it was worth the 5 days of no showering. I felt like a new Katherine when I stepped out haha. 

Soukaina, the niece of Fatiha, my correspondent, is 15 years old and she showed me the steps. So there I was, naked in front of tons of other women, and evidently awestruck at what I was seeing (women shaving and rubbing each other in a 100 percent completely non sexual way- it's not everyday in France or the US that you see that haha), and sweet Soukaina was patiently leading me around showing me what to do. She scrubbed me down, helped me rinse my hair, helped me gather water.. I mean that's like real sisterly love! Not even my best friends have "seen me" like that so it was quite a liberating and outside-of-comfort-zone experience.. and that's putting it lightly. But it was so wonderful because I let go and just did what everyone else was doing. And women who didn't speak French and knew I was a foreigner were helping Soukaina guide me along as well. I mean it's just like serious woman power in there. There were even women who were drumming the buckets and chanting like it was a ritual or something. Which it totally is! And it added to the experience. Fatiha said, "It's OUR day, it's a female ritual and we celebrate it." They totally embrace their femininity and it's beautiful. I really admire that about Moroccan culture and I think the US could learn a thing or two from that. So many women turn against each other in our culture. I know plenty of girls that say, "I prefer guy friends cause girls are -this or that, insert here-." And I can't blame them because the girl world is tough in the US. It is in Morocco too, but for different reasons (because of masculine superiority!). The female solidarity in Morocco is incredible and it exists on many levels. Emotionally and mentally and physically too. They are much more open amongst each other and they don't turn on one another. You are never without girl friends in Morocco. 

Women (and men) have been coming to this hammam for centuries to partake in something that is so much more than just washing your body. It's a cultural and emotional and spiritual experience, in my opinion. And although that feeling might be so strong in my mind because it was my first time, those who grew up doing this appreciate the same feeling, too. It's normal for them but that doesn't make it less important. When I was in there, I just had a revelation that I was partaking in living history, doing what thousands of people of Fes have been doing since... forever, in the same place I was sitting! That's a pretty powerful feeling. Now combine that feeling with the feeling of being naked with 50 other naked women (if you're a man- picture yourself with men, the other way around is not an option haha) who are young, old, fat, thin, pretty, ugly, etc. It makes you realize certain things and I can't quite precisely say what exactly. It just puts things into perspective- how you treat others or judge others based on what they look like, based on their needs, based on the way they live their life. Going to the hammam made me reflect on all of that.