A new roof-top addition and Thanksgiving!

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After spending a grueling summer of sweltering heat from the African sunshine, we made the decision to add a covering to part of our roof. The reasons for having a covered patio are numerous, but the main reasons here are sunshine (smeesha) that during summer can be downright painful, rain (shtah) which happens almost every day in the winter, and the ability to enjoy the roof at will. When we first contacted someone regarding our wants, he was taken aback and absolutely did not understand why anyone would want such a thing on his roof. Yea, yea, yea… we know, it’s not normal here in Morocco… but we are “Meerican” (American) and those rules don’t apply to us. So, build it he did! Please note that all materials were hoisted up 3 flights of stairs with rope and the unit was actually welded together on the roof. Also of note, the tools which were used to build our beautiful covering are completely dilapidated and ABSOLUTELY deadly!!! If you look at the welding unit, you will understand what we are talking about. The welding mask is a piece of wood with a discolored piece of plastic nailed to it and the drill has a cord that has a newly attached plug… yea, no way!!! However, all the OSHA issues aside, we ended up with a fantastic metal awning that no one here understands but in which we delight!!! Our first test of this new addition was our Thanksgiving gathering… and based upon the results, we would have to call it an amazing success! Now, on to the turkey!!!!!

A somewhat traditional Thanksgiving

Let us admit up front that our traditions and resulting family get-togethers have been extremely important to both of in our lives. Before we formed our own family, the love and warmth of these times were central and monumental in our upbringings. When we made our family, we formed our own special traditions, incorporating some of each of ours before. Since we have moved to Morocco, we often reminisce about the wonderful memories created at holidays. Thanksgiving is no exception and to Adam, we will always remember the mushroom fiasco with love. But when we made our decision to host a Thanksgiving at our home in Ksar el Kebir for interested Peace Corps volunteers, we knew that things would be very different and that traditions in food and activities would need to adapt. After all, we would be a miniscule minority celebrating Thanksgiving in Morocco and let us say that conveniences in food preparation are nil. So, we decided to have no expectations except to cook a big turkey. In fact, we would choose our very alive, plump turkey on the same day it was cooked from the five we found at the open market. We are sure he had a good life and we are thankful for being able to make him a historic legend.

We posted our invitation to the approximate 160 volunteers in the country, without having even the slightest clue how things would work out. We do have a large place as far as Peace Corps Volunteers go, and figured we could house 20-25 without putting anyone on the very cold now, tile floor. For those in America, Morocco is famous for ponges, which are really just low couches, used for both sitting and sleeping. We have more than a few of them to enable us to entertain and have guests. No Moroccan home would be complete without the ability to have anyone who comes over for tea, be able to sleep it off afterwards (and, it is only spiked with mint). Our invitation stated that sleeping surfaces, blankets and pillows would be first-come, first-served. Knowing our Peace Corps cohorts, they would not mind sleeping bags or huddling up, and the fact that we had a hot shower and two western toilets would sound luxurious.

We have volunteers living throughout the country from desert to coast, and some travelling from the south to our northern city might have to spend more than one day in travel to get here. Since Peace Corps headquarters in Rabat was having a Thanksgiving party also (combining our turkey meal with all of us all getting Hepatitis A and Flu shots), we planned to make our holiday right afterwards, making it easier for those who would already be close by. Our city is about 2 hours by train from Rabat.

Twenty-five people came. As if by some miracle, it was absolutely the perfect number without turning anyone away. Some that we would have loved to be here could not make it for one reason or another, and for that we were very sad (Tarah, Jessica, Edwin and Khalid in particular). But for some that we did not know very well, we were so happy to get to know them better. To sum it up before expounding on details, it was a truly warm and satisfying bonding experience that none of us will ever forget. We were just like any other family, sharing food, love and fun. It was also Las Vegas, if you know what we mean. Older and younger, male and female, tall and short, Democratic and Republican, we all had a group experience in Morocco that will live in infamy. This wonderful time lasted three days. We shared our Peace Corps experiences with each other, told stories about our families and friends at home, talked of future aspirations and dreams and slept like fish. Fish?

“Sleeping like fish.” This is a term that some of our Moroccan friends suggested described having 25 people in our home and it fit our situation perfectly. People were everywhere and it was really cold at night, so they stayed in various schools. But it worked and the days were stunningly sunny and blue skied. Strangely, people all woke up at about the same time. They enjoyed our new Espresso machine purchased in Tangier. Everyone helped out with what needed to be done. People rotated shower and bathroom time without a hitch. Not one bad word was said from one person to another. It was like sun shining down on our spot on earth. What we thought would have been impossible at our home in the states worked here in our humble home in a foreign land.

The food was amazing. The night we all arrived in Ksar from Rabat, we had a friend of ours “cater” a dinner of grilled lamb chops (“howlie”) and chicken (“d jejj”) and salads (shlada) galore. Our roof (“sta”) was the venue and it was just like a backyard BBQ only higher up. It was BYOB and there could be seen headache-making Moroccan wine in plastic bottles, homemade stilled brews of undetermined flavors and lots of beer. In the morning, we all went to our friend’s restaurant and had traditional fava bean soup with fresh bread. The faces of Ksar’s residents watching us walk together through town as a group were of Americans was priceless. Someone must have let the police know about it because later they showed up at our house to ask everyone’s names for their “records.” No problem! (Mashee-mushkee!).

The next evening two of our fellow PCV men cooked beef stroganoff and chili. Their cooking skills were fantastic, but it didn’t hurt the stroganoff that our butcher just happened to be cutting up tenderloin (which is just like any other meat here for the price) and we scooped it up for our evening fare. That same day there was karaoke, Christmas movies, video games, laughing and great fun, with homemade, warm, chocolate chip cookies and freshly grated lemon bars consumed in large quantities.

On the final day of festivities, our official Thanksgiving, cooking took the priority. We had crisp-skinned, coca-cola basted turkey, authentically American green bean casserole and deviled eggs, silky mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie (made from fresh pumpkin no less) and more. An amazing effort was given by all and it was clear, without saying a word, that everyone had tradition in mind with the preparation of the delicious dishes. The clean-up and trash committee was amazing – another blessing for the hosts.

In the end, all were more than well satisfied. Our need to have a somewhat traditional Thanksgiving in Morocco was fulfilled. Those who wanted to share in that experience with us left Ksar happy and contented. We will always have something special between us and we talked about what we might do next year. Some said that the lemon bars were the best part, and in fact they were so yummy, people could not stop eating them. Some said that the time shared with other Americans made it easier for them not to miss home at the holiday. Some were just thankful for a hot shower or a flushing toilet. For us, we continue to count our blessings in Morocco and especially our ability to share our good cheer and love, even while we greatly miss our family and friends, and the old traditions of home.

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Photos

The builder's main mode of transportation...
In front of our house (dar).

Comments

[Charles Krueger]

very interesting