Big Changes Back Home

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Maryam’s baby still didn’t have a definite name when I got back, so I got to weigh in on my pick of names. I voted with both grandmothers for Selma, though I’m not sure that was Hichem’s first choice. For once the women got to decide something. We outnumbered him by quite a bit since both grandmothers and Maryam’s sister stayed for over a week to help out. They had the first baby party on the traditional 7th day after she was born, but since Maryam had been in the hospital until the day before the party, they kept it small for only the family.

The Sunday after was the big party and I managed to be there for that, though I was still recovering from a nasty cold. Maryam invited over her friends and I came with Fouzia, my landlady. We sat around chatting for a long time, while Maryam and her sister and mother served lunch to the men downstairs. Traditionally the men and women are separated at such parties. In this case the guys were downstairs at Rachida and Said’s house. Rachida was helping Maryam with the food. After the men ate, Maryam started bringing food in to us. We started with huge platters of whole fried chickens, covered with green olives and lemon slices. Next was the mutton, layered in prunes and almonds. Desert was an artistic pile of oranges, apples and bananas. After giving us a little time to rest after the eating they turned up the music and a few of the younger girls danced for us. Next they brought in tea and basket after basket of little pastry-like sweets. Some looked like cookies, some are so traditionally Moroccan I have no idea what to call them in English. It was completely different from any party I have been to in the States, but I had a great time and really liked it. I think I have been here long enough now to really appreciate such social functions (without being bored or horrified at the mounds of meat).

Having a baby around the house isn’t that much different here than in the US. They cry, they eat, they sleep, they need their diapers changed. What strikes me as the most different is the lack of information. At home there are countless books about caring for babies, baby nutrition, baby exercise, baby psychology, baby music, baby toys, baby everything. I am sure that sort of thing can be found in Casablanca or Rabat, but here, it is unheard of. There are vague rumors that breast milk is good, but the mothers I have talked to have said that the doctor recommended that they buy formula. I assured Maryam that her milk is better than formula.

I am also learning about traditional ways of caring for babies here. They are wrapped up tight in swaddling clothes most of the time because they say if she sees her hands waving in front of her face she’ll be scared and cry. If she hiccups you have to put a red thread on her forehead to make her stop. That’s probably my favorite remedy I have learned from Maryam. I am trying to introduce the idea of lullabies, but people don’t seem to sing to babies here. Babies are often fed herbal teas of anise or other herbs that are commonly added to regular tea. I had never heard of that but told Maryam as long as she didn’t add honey it sounded fine to me.

Among other changes, I finally broke down and bought a little fridge. It was the smallest I could find, though it still cost almost my entire monthly allowance. No major travels this month! I have also been vaguely thinking of what to do after Peace Corps. Though I still have about a year and a half left, people have been asking me what my plans are. I hadn’t made up my mind on any one thing and have actually been considering applying for a third year if my projects here take off and I manage to make myself indispensable. But one morning I was reading an article on the recent immigration debates in the US and decided I really want to go back to Idaho and work with immigrants. I am learning what it is like to live on the south side of the border; most of my friends here are unemployed and trying to find a way to emigrate to Europe to find work. It’s just a thought at this point, but sounds better and better the more I think about it.

At the moment my projects include setting up and working a little library at the Dar Chebab and working with the Palm Tree Environmental Club, besides teaching English classes, tutoring and helping students with their homework. I still devote most of my energy to the second and third Peace Corps goals, which are to familiarize people here about America and American culture and to educate Americans about my host country (hence this blog).

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Photos

Drying wheat on my roof
Fouzia wasn't kidding when she said making bread is a lot of work. She had to wash and dry the wheat before she could even grind the flour.

Salma
Ten days old.

Still twitching
During a Dar Chebab clean-up the kids kept telling me not to pick up trash with my bare hands. Proof of their wisdom: two large scorpions just outside my little office that we killed and mounted with varnish.

Comments

[Aurora]

Enjoying the stories...
Heather, I don't know if you remember me, I'm Aurora. I was thinking of you and decided to check out the blog. I'm enjoying your stories you are sharing with everyone. Some of the things you talk about I can relate to my own experiences as a PCV. I'm so proud of you and everything that you are doing! I know time seems endless in Morocco, especially in the summer months. Believe me, one day you will be reminescing (sp?) about those special times (especially the most difficult ones) and wonder why time flew the way it did. Savor each moment in the land of contrasts ( I agree). I wanted to add that it is not too early to think about the future past your PC service in Morocco. Network and make those lasting connections because you never know what the future will hold. Please give Maryam and Salma a huge hug on my behalf! Take care! Aurora