Fake chewing

Living in a conservative, Muslim home in Morocco is almost completely different from living at a liberal-arts college in New York City. For instance, I have a curfew at 7pm most nights! I'm still nervous, so I'm acting with much care at home, but even still, I'm sure I have offended my host family several times already. At dinner tonight, I noticed two conversations in Arabic that were unmistakably about me. I often wonder what incentive these families in the Medina have to take in gauche American students. I wouldn't be surprised if the only thing we provide is something at which to laugh.

At least we break up the monotony of days spent only watching TV! Moroccan homes seem to center around TV, even more so than American ones. The TV in my Moroccan house is on from the moment I wake up until after I go to bed, and the family members spend the whole day in front of it. The women in my house live an especially unenviable life. The farthest distance I've seen most of them travel is from the kitchen to the TV room.

We have all been eating so much here. If I stop eating for even a second, all the family members prod me: "Kooli! Mangez!" ("Eat!" in Darija and French). Dinner is usually at 10pm, so I'm never in the mood to eat anyway. After talking with a friend from the program, I realized I am not the only one who has resorted to pretending to chew so as not to have to eat any more. But even that doesn't always work. I have basically started fasting from 9am to 9pm in preparation for these dinners. I guess I'll have to find a new strategy though, because my host mom still told me tonight that I don't eat very much.

The highlight of my homestay so far has been the only time I went out with a family member. My host brother, Youssef, took me on a tour of the Bouregreg river, which divides Rabat and its sister city, Sale. The walk was so pleasant-- the sun was setting and for once I didn't have to worry about street harassment because a man was with me. Youssef taught me about Moroccan music and played some of his favorite songs while we sat on the rocks beside the river. This was when I knew I was going to be happy here despite all the cultural adjustments. Youssef's wife grabbed my hand later in the souk so I wouldn't get lost. For me, that small gesture made Morocco more of a home.

S'miti Rachel...

I've been in Morocco for almost a week, and it's hard to decide what to write about. All week we have been learning about Moroccan history and culture, how to communicate with our host families, and how not to get robbed or mugged or imprisoned or accidentally engaged to a Moroccan man. Our days have been starting at 7:30 with a delicious breakfast of pastries (pain au chocolat!), cheese, fresh OJ, tomatoes, and cucumbers. We've then been attending lectures about bargaining, street harassment, Moroccan politics, survival Arabic, and the like. It's a little tedious, but I am much less nervous about acclimating now.

I was most nervous about the homestay. After a lecture about how to refuse 7th helpings of dinner and how to use a Turkish toilet, we got to meet our host families. Only my host mom came to meet me, and she came half an hour late. But she seems nice enough. We spoke French to each other, and I realized my French is severely lacking. I'll get a lot of practice with it though, at least until I learn more Arabic! She only stayed to talk to me for 5 minutes, but I think I have 3 grown host siblings who live with her. Supposedly I will have my own room and hot water occasionally, so I'll be ok! I am a little worried that it will be lonely with no other kids in the house and a single mother. My friends' host families include plenty of young children, which would be more entertaining. But more pstilla for me!

I haven't gotten to explore Rabat as much as I'd like yet. I've wandered down rue Mohammed V into a souk to bargain for a scarf and buy a cell phone. We've been so busy with seminars that it's hard to find daylight hours to walk around.

This weekend I'll be spending 48 hours with my mysterious host family. More to come!