The Woes of Being Left-handed in Morocco

In Morocco and according to Islam, the right hand is more pure than the left hand. You are supposed to do all clean things (i.e. eating, shaking hands) with the right hand and all unclean things (bathroom duties, removing fruit pits from your mouth) are to be done with your left hand. Even the word for right (lemen) is used in some context s to say the correct or pure way. This is not at all different than in English, where right obviously means ‘not left’ as well as ‘not wrong.’

So being left-handed, this is kind of a problem. My first time in Morocco I quickly learned how to eat with my right hand (eating as in actually with your hands, using a piece of bread to scoop up whatever the main dish is from the communal plate)—not such a hard task since neither of my hands at the time were trained at this.

My current problem, though, is learning to cut the skin off of the fruit using a knife. For awhile, my homestay family didn’t let me near the knife and peeled the fruit for me (they did this out of hospitality). Then later when they realized I didn’t really know how to peel the fruit, they continued to peel it for me. So as of yesterday, I didn’t really get a chance to practice my skills.

Today I ended up eating lunch by myself in the kitchen with an apple as my dessert—yeah, a whole apple, with the skin. With no one in the kitchen, I decided to just try and cut the apple with my left hand. Well, turns out the knife is pretty blunt if you use it with your left hand. So then I let out a little sigh and transfered the knife to the right hand. For what seemed like hours, but was probably more like 5 minutes, I awkwardly and probably dangerously cut the apple skin off. It was not pretty and it is definitely not one of those things I am semi-ambidextrous at.

Then my host sister comes into the kitchen and I pleaded for some help—I have only managed to peel one quarter of the apple! As she swiftly peels the apple in less than a minute, I try to get some sympathy from her, but all she gives me is a lecture on how the left hand is for the hammam (the bathroom).

Sigh…

Culture Shock...?

So the last few posts I have talked some about what I have been doing, but I believe it’s about time to write one on how I am doing so far. How am I adjusting to life in a new country?

Well for starters, it is not like my first experience in Morocco. This time, I knew a lot about the superficial culture shocks that I would endure upon arrival—the hot weather, the food, the bathrooms, and of course, the street harassment. However, there were a few things that I had (maybe conveniently) forgotten.

I had forgotten how mean and angry Moroccans can sound when they talk, even when they are having a perfectly amicable conversation. My friend Megan and I had a conversation about this and she noted too just how passionate the language is here. After two weeks with the host family, I am beginning to get used to people shouting and saying, what sounds like to me (but really I can’t understand), nasty things to each other, and then five minutes later laughing with each other. As anyone who knows me can tell you, I am not a shouter. I can’t remember the last time I raised my voice, let alone had a yelling match with someone. Add to this fact that no one in my family is really like that, and now you can understand my “culture shock.” Slowly (sweya sweya) I am less disturbed by their conversation, and maybe one day I will shoot lightning fast darija from my tongue while yelling at the top of my lungs in a friendly disagreement. Then maybe I can call myself Moroccan haha.

The second shock I have had since being in Morocco has been the time change—and I don’t mean the five hour time difference. I mean how things slow down here compared to the rapid speed America runs at with 24-hour just-about-anything. As my Arabic teacher said “In America, you have money, but here in Morocco, we have time.” For example, I was trying to find a gym to work out at in my neighborhood since I’ve been here. First, my host brother tells me it will be difficult to find one open because it is still Ramadan—I must wait until after the Eid. Then I get around to asking my brother this past Friday, again, not a good time—it’s Friday, the holy day in Islam (like Sunday for Christians). Finally, it is Saturday, but I can’t go to the gym between 12 and 3 in the afternoon because it’s “lunch time” (and this is typical of everyday) . Finally Saturday evening I got to sign up at the gym and there is a victory! It is open!

Besides these two adjustments, I have been having a fantastic time here and I am sure with time, these issues will fade and will become second nature. I just wanted to give a little insight into some of the lifestyle changes that living in Morocco demands.

Eid Mubark!

I had a four day break this past weekend because we celebrated Eid Al-Ftr on Monday. It is the holiday that marks the end of the month of Ramadan, and the first day of non-fasting. It reminded me somewhat of Christmas day, in that it is a day to spend with family and to visit family. Relatives I have never met before came to the my homestay family’s house and everyone talked over many cups of tea and many trays of cookies. My whole family had bought new clothes to wear for the day, and they gave me a little something to wear as well (see below :).

To celebrate, my sister (Selma) and I had henna done. She got a really intricate design all over her hands and feets. It looked amazing but it also meant she had to sit for hours while it was applied and then while it dried. Hence, the sour face in the picture to the right haha.

(above) My sister dressed up in her whole Eid costume. A few days before, on the 27th day of Ramadan, all the little boys and girls dress up. My sister even had her hair and makeup done professionally for it. She looked like a little princess (or bride haha)!

They lent me an outfit for the day, too...that I was kind of glad to give back at the end of the day...it was not the most flattering color on me :)

My brothers's Eid outfits. They looked super comfortable and they are really quite spiffy looking.

Old City of Fez (the medina)

Today I went on a guided tour of the old city of Fez called the medina quadima. I live just outside the old city, and to enter it I walk through a huge arched door (or bab in Arabic) decorated with blue on the outside (the color of Fez) and decorated with green on the inside (the color of Islam). After you enter through the bab, it is a complete no car zone because the streets are very narrow. Our tour guide said that the streets were designed to resemble a labyrinth in order to confuse invaders that enter – today it works to confuse the tourist :)

The old city of Fez is the biggest in Morocco and probably one of the biggest in the world. Today, there are about 425,000 living within it, and it sure can get crowded. Besides hordes of people, you pass by a mule or horse every few minutes because they are the main mode of transport for goods into the medina quadima. You have to remain alert when on the main roads as to not get run over by a mule or cart.
There are nearly 200 neighborhoods within the old city, each with five components: a public fountain (for drinking water), a public bath, a mosque, a religious school (madrasa), and a public bakery. Our tour consisted of all of these. A highlight of the tour for me was visiting the oldest university in the world (yes, THE oldest) called Al-Karaouine University. It was founded in the 9th century and is still in session today. Students spend 12 years studying here , and one requirement of graduation is the full memorization of the Qu’ran. Unfortunately I could only peer through the doors for a glimpse of the place because non-Muslims in Morocco are not permitted in mosques (with one exception in Casablanca).

Fez will be my home for at least the next five months and I have made it a goal of mine to learn how to navigate my way through the medina quadima.

Orientation in Rabat

I have been in Morocco for just about 3 days now, and I don’t believe I have had a moment to breathe yet and take it all in – that this is my home for the next year. The Fulbright commission has been hosting an orientation for all of us (there are about 17 of us) and keeping our schedules pretty tight. We’ve spent the last two days listening to lectures about every aspect of Morocco from religion to politics to literature to human rights. Every night we attend a ftor, a dinner at sundown, to mingle with all the lecturers from that day. The ftor happens each night during the month of Ramadan, an Islamic holy month where all Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. Tonight, we had our ftor at the home of an US embassy director, who lives in the largest Moroccan home I’ve seen yet. A few of the other Fulbrighters and I sat next to a lawyer who gave a presentation today on human rights in Morocco and he was fascinating. He has defended homosexual men, men coming back from Guantanamo Bay, and men who were imprisoned for many years on a remote island for attempting to overthrow the King in 1971 and 1972.

One of the highlights so far has been meeting some of the Fulbrighters who have been here for a year already. All of them are incredibly good at speaking Darija! Darija is the Moroccan dialect of Arabic and the language I will be studying for my first five months here. I was absolutely amazed and have no idea how they became so fluent in just one year. It gives me a lot of motivation and hope for my Darija skills!

The orientation concluded today and tomorrow we leave early for Fez, a four or five hour drive. Also, I meet my homestay family tomorrow! I am very excited to move onto a new city, but I will miss the comfort I had here in Rabat (where I spent my study abroad) of knowing how to get around. It’s been several days of speaking English, staying in a nice hotel and navigating a familiar city, but tomorrow will be a whole different story…