Onward to Ksar El Kebir!!!


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Africa » Morocco » Tangier-Tétouan » Asilah
March 28th 2013
Published: May 6th 2013
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First and foremost... THANKS FOR HANGING IN THERE AND WAITING FOR US!!! Due to circumstances beyond our control (and our belief!!!), we have been delayed in writing! We are back and shall resume normal posts. We will try to compress the month of April for the sake of your eyes and patience!



3/28/2013

TITLE: Hitting “pay dirt” in some ways, but not in others…..

Looking out the window as we arrived in Ksar by train, provided a glimpse of a city much larger than our former town of Ain Cheggag. The train stopped and we threw off our bulky luggage onto the concrete platform. To our immensely happy surprise, after the very trying mishaps in Rabat, there was a porter with a cart. The porter nicely handled our bags and also found us a taxi!!! It took two men to load the bags… yes, that may seem crazy, but please bear in mind, that we packed for TWO YEARS!!! As we headed from the train station into town, it was clear that Ksar is a thriving, busy town. We don’t know if this just happens to us all of the time, but for at least the 4th time in our 2 months in Morocco, our taxi driver did not recognize the address we handed him, much less how to get there. We provided the phone number for our host family to him and he called them. Imagine our horror, when the numbers that the host family provided to us, did not work!!! However, after a second round of attempts, we were able to get someone on the phone. Although, even when provided with the directions from a live person, the driver still had to make a few extra turns and backtracks.

When we arrived at the doorstep of our new host family home it was an absolutely beautiful perfect weather day. Our host “mom” was waiting on the sidewalk to greet us. There were so many thoughts racing through our minds when we arrived, but this is basically what happened. We, and our new host “mom,” introduced ourselves to one another. She speaks very fast and we understood about 2 words in 100. (Boy… we DID jump into the deep end of the pool!!!) We were also tired and it had been a long, long day with the frustrations described in our last post. Mom (Hachoocha) seemed very nice, friendly and downright happy to see us. (That’s always a good sign!) She was dressed in her comfy jammies (like most Moroccan housewives) and took great care to make us feel welcome. It truly was a good start.

We managed to get our massive luggage to the front door, but the door was too small to actually allow us to get it through. No problem, as our host “brother” was there to take it apart and allow us to physically get our stuff inside the house. Directly inside the house is a small hallway and to the immediate right is the cuzina (kitchen). Also to the right, past the kitchen door, is the door to the bathroom. Next is the stairway, and then straight into the living room/bedrooms. All of these rooms, the hallway, kitchen, bathroom and stairs, cover the span of about 6 feet, total (yes, total). So, the bathroom is in the front hallway between the kitchen and living room. And, sadly for us, we found it had a Turkish toilet with a ceiling only 3 feet high (no standing up!). It closely resembles a wood burning pizza oven. This is the only bathroom in the house and there is no shower. There is a very interesting fact about this particular bathroom, the floor is always wet. Not because there is a leaky faucet or anything silly like that, but because people flush with a bucket of water and are not very good at aiming. To make matters worse, the floor is not sloped towards the lowest point in the room (which SHOULD be the drain in the turk), but rather towards the door. We found this out only because Ann immediately had to use the toilet and unfortunately her jeans got all wet at the bottom. She also realized immediately that there will not be toilet paper provided as the family is eau natural (meaning that there is soap and a bucket of water for washing after business and flushing). This room is the only hygiene room in the home - - one gets water from the spigot (no sink with a faucet) to brush teeth, wash face, etc.

These first impressions behind us, we went to see our room. Up the steep, narrow (very narrow) and windy stairs we went to the roof. Upon reaching the roof, the first thing we see is a 3’ X 3’ hole in front of us that is open into the living room below. It is covered by plastic and the bricks hold the plastic in place. Across the roof we saw a double door (both pieces together the width of a standard US door) with a rock on the ground holding one side closed as there is no handle or mechanism in the door itself by which to keep the door shut. Please see photos of the door, the roof and the room, as the photos are worth more than words can say. We will admit that our request for a door lock was taken seriously and handled very quickly - - two snake eye screws hammered onto the front of the door (yes, hammered) and a padlock provided. The window panes are not all intact, but there is some plastic covering the ones lacking to keep out the elements, mostly.

Our room contained 1 twin bed with a top sheet. There are two ponges (low seating foam benches). A wardrobe on one end of the room had some open space. Ann couldn’t get it open at first, because it is held closed at the bottom by rusty nails, which are bent so they can be used to keep it closed, or moved aside to open it. Smiling genuinely and widely, “Mom” turned on the light switch (see photos) and showed us the electric plug.

Once left in our room, we looked at each other for a while, each with a blank expression. We did not know what to do or what to say. Soon, “Mom” came up the stairs and started clapping loudly outside of our door. We had been summoned to lunch (it was 3 p.m.). As we had not eaten anything this day, we were excited to eat and it was wonderful. At this time, still it was only “Mom” that was at the house and we were the only ones to eat the chicken thighs (1 each, which is actually a lot of meat to serve here) and some potatoes and veggies in a great sauce. We know this was made in a pressure cooker because we heard it cooking from our room on the roof.

Yes, we quickly realized that we could hear everything that goes on in the house as well as in all the neighbor’s houses. On our first night, we heard the neighborhood roosters, who crow all day and night, the call to prayer that happens at 4 a.m. and the families and cafes that bustle with life until the wee hours. As an added bonus, we can hear the bucket of water being filled by use of the spigot and the flushing of things down the Turkish toilet as the bucket is poured. Everyone in the house can hear what happens in the bathroom as well as our room, and we do mean everything!

Later, we got to meet our host Baba (Mohammed) when he brought the lock. In addition to the screw eyes on the outside, he put a latch on the inside by hammering in some screws (yes, hammering again! Ironically, he had a screwdriver with him at the time.). Then, we met one of his sons (our host brother) who helped him put the latch on. There are a total of 3 brothers, but we met 2 first day. One is 21 and the other 17. The middle brother is the only one who allegedly speaks English and he is in Tangier at the moment.

After all of the excitement of the day thus far, we decided to take a walk around town. We located the dar chebab, which was NOT the building we had identified on the map we saw previously. In fact, it was much smaller. We met a man there who did not speak English, and we asked for the mudir (who is to be our “supervisor”). He was not there and the man did not know when he would be there. This man would not shake Ann’s hand (some men don’t shake a woman’s hand here). He let us look into one of the rooms and we were happy to see some tables, chairs and a chalk-board. We told him who we were and what we were doing there, but we do not know if he understood.

On our walk, we were pleasantly surprised by the fact that a ton of people were milling about, walking around and sitting at cafes (cafes appear to be men only, which is typical). There were all sorts of shops, products for sale on the streets and carts and carts of fruits and vegetables. We saw butchers and bakeries galore. There were hanuts of all sizes (the convenience stores, so to speak). Observing things while we were out and about, we agreed that this scene was what we pictured our Morocco to look like. Towards the end of our stroll, we walked around our block. We saw a sign out in front of a building that looked like some type of environmental group. We stood out front until someone saw us (the door was open) and we greeted a woman. We told her we spoke English and she led us to another woman. She did not speak English either, but we were able to tell her enough in Darija to peak her interest. She showed us around the center (small, but 3 rooms) where women were doing crafts. She showed us some of the products. Walla! We had found a women’s center, albeit combined with an environmental club. We showed her our Peace Corps IDs. She tried to call someone who spoke English, but could not reach anyone. We tried to explain that we wanted to build relationships with associations and work with women and youth. She got the gist somehow. We agreed to meet again at 5 p.m. the next day and she would get someone who spoke English.

What a completely filled first day! We felt so much better after having identified, randomly and coincidentally, a women’s center. We had actually set up a meeting and would meet a potential English speaking counterpart, tomorrow!! We were so tired when we arrived home at about 6:00 p.m. Our host family sat down with us and we had tea and cookies. We explained to our family that we did not like much sugar. Frustratingly, we were faced again with our host “mom” who speaks really quickly, sometimes with a hand over her mouth. We will keep telling her to slow down. I am sure that she is frustrated too.

After tea, Clay went with the host baba and one of the brothers to baba’s game hanut (a place where people can play video games for money, much like an old video arcade) and also visited the brother’s place of employment (they make ice cream cones of all flavors by hand). Ann stayed with fast talking “mom” and tried to make the best of it. When Clay came home, we went to our room to do a little unpacking at least. At about 9:30, “mom” called “Miriam!!!” (if you have forgotten, it is Ann’s Moroccan name). Food time! We had bowls of soup that looked like milk and tasted somewhat like buttermilk, with dates on the side for dipping. Quite the interesting flavor, but we will not be seeking the recipe.

Okay. So tomorrow we have to pay some money to our host family, see if we can find the two big bags and one smaller bag shipped from Rabat on the bus. Those bags will complete our worldly possessions. Tomorrow we will have a meeting, hopefully. Tomorrow we will be less tired and be better able to communicate with our host family. Tomorrow we will again try to meet with the mudir. Tomorrow we will be forced to use the Turkish toilet, which we relish the thought!!! Tomorrow, we will have breakfast at 9:30. Ann was asked by host “mom” what time we wanted breakfast and she replied 8:30 (successfully, in Darija!). Host “mom” said, “no,” it needs to be 9:30 because she has to get fresh bread from the hanut and it will not be open that early. Okay, 9:30 it is. What will it be? Will Ann get coffee ns ns (half and half coffee and hot milk) like Ain Cheggag “mom” used to make? Is there an apartment for rent in town that has a regular toilet and a shower? Indeed, our standards have really changed. These are just the first questions we will ask upon waking up tomorrow in our newest foreign land experience.


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