Stop Following Me!

This is a long overdue post, so you'll have to forgive me.  But I guess it's better late than never!  Two Saturdays ago, I woke up early to catch the bus to go spend a week with a family in the countryside of Morocco.  The village we went to was near Boujaad and was the closest to in the middle of nowhere I've ever been.  However, after spending so much time in a city, I was definitely ready to be out in the country with fresh air and fewer people.  I was initially extremely nervous to meet my homestay family because I really didn't have any idea what to expect.  From the paper the program gave us, I saw it wasn't nearly as big of a family as my Rabat family (thank goodness!) with only 3 sisters and one brother.  So when I got off the bus to meet my new host father I was just a tad nervous, but upon meeting him and seeing his very relaxed demeanor, I was instantly put at ease.

While some of my fellow SIT-ers got to ride to their new homes in donkeys on that first day, I was happy to just walk and take everything in as we went the long way down the road to my house.  As we walked up our driveway, the dogs instantly started barking at us, not as much to warn those in the house as to sound as intimidating as possible.  We had been told in our orientation that the people's relationship with animals would be very strange and sometimes contradictory, and over the upcoming week, I definitely discovered that fact.  Dogs are of particular concern because while they may look fine, they are trained to guard the house, and so are fairly hostile to humans.  If in doubt, pick up a rock.

Otherwise, my time in the country namely consisted of spending lots of time with my new homestay family, and taking hikes.  Both were definitely welcome, but I'm more of a fan of things in moderation and this did not happen in either case.  The first things my sisters did upon my arrival was 1) feed me and 2) take me for a walk.  Both were very welcome at the time, but as the next two days passed, the walks became more of ways to babysit my younger sisters instead of enjoying the countryside.  However, the SIT group took a spectacular hike and tour of the village and the area nearby on the first full day in the village.  It was complete with spectacular views of the ridges and valleys, and a glimpse of our director's old house, which had been abandoned when his family moved to Rabat.  We had a talk/lecture about deforestation and how the colonial government alienated the people from the forests which they had previously been very closely tied to by making them national parks.  This may seem counterintuitive, but by attempting to strictly preserve the forests, the government made the people hate the forest because they could not continue their previously healthy relationship with it.  As a result, people began to pillage the forests by cutting down whatever they felt they needed, significantly decreasing the previously all forest areas to just a few groves here and there.  This is becoming a more serious problem as the combination of erosion and drought make it very difficult for farmers to continue their way of life sufficiently.

One of my most memorable times in the village stay was the discussion forums arranged by the program; one with just the males of the village, and the other with just the women.  Why is something like this so memorable you ask? Because you learn from their questions and answers what is important to them and how, if at all, men and women react differently to certain things.  One session was held one day and the other the next day, so there was no confusion as to who should be where when.  Splitting the two groups up also allowed the mostly shy women to voice their opinions and ask questions our director told us they would not have asked otherwise.  The men were very interested in what Americans do when they die, while the women were very concerned how we viewed their hospitality and wanted to know about houses and our mothers in the United States.  The fact that the women focused more on home matters appears to be an awful stereotype to most Americans, but it was truly what these women were concerned about and that cannot be discounted.  For some reason, the men in this village chose to ask us if Americans ever die, which is a very interesting question considering he has probably only seen American students from SIT, which has been doing a village stay for at least 10 or 15 years.  Naturally, we go into a discussion about cremation, which is a very strange concept to all Moroccans, and the types of services or ways of remembering the dead Americans have.

The next couple days found us helping rebuild a very important part of the village, the market building where rugs are sold.  While it was not a very organized scene, I did feel like I was accomplishing something in return for the families' extremely generous hospitality.  Each of the SIT students took turns wheel-barrowing loads of silt from the relatively nearby stream, mixing this silt with the makings of cement, and then literally splattering it on the wall surrounding the house.  We were supposed to paint this wall the next day, but then a fog set in that did not go away for the next couple days.  Despite not being able to completely finish the project, it was nice to know that I was giving back to the community that was currently helping me.


On the subject of animals again, though, I felt like I was back at home in a way.  Each day the family woke up at 6 am and began the long, but leisurely completed, list of things to do that day.  Since my family thought I was "soft" due to my experiences in the city, they did not wake me up until 7 am.  Have no fear of not getting enough sleep though!  We went to bed almost exactly at 9 every night.  First thing was take the cows out of the barn, then came breakfast and taking the calves out to pasture.  Then my sister and I swept the main house, and then went to where the sheep and goats were kept for the night to let them out to pasture, with our watchful shepherding eyes on them, of course.  About an hour into our shepherding session, it was usually time for me to go to whatever SIT had planned for the day.  Then there came lunch...

Food in rural Morocco is at once completely different from what I experience in the cities, and is exactly the same.  The majority of the dishes are exactly the same as what my host mom and restaurants prepare in Rabat, but method of obtaining that food is very different.  One of the biggest worries any traveler can have is gastrointestinal issues, and by some miracle I experienced almost none while I stayed in the village, despite the fact that I partook in all the dairy goods available.  I tried the freshly made leben (buttermilk), the sweet milk and rice soup, hot milk, and all the butter I could handle at once.  All of it tasted so different and very good compared to what I am used to.  However, I don't think my system could sustain a daily war with such strong dairy products.  If nothing else, I at least knew where it was all coming from!  A rural Moroccan's diet largely consists of whatever form of dairy they can produce from their cows, sheep, or goats, bread, and tea.  This is what we ate for at least 3 meals during the day, if you include tea time as one of the meals, which was perfectly fine with me given the fact that the olive oil and butter we dipped the bread in were both fantastic and I simply love Moroccan tea.  The other meal, whether it be lunch or dinner, consisted of a tajine of some sort with lots of vegetables piled high on the enormous tajine platter.  The idea and taste of the meat largely caused me to shy away from eating much, but the chicken was fairly tasty.

However, there was one bad thing about living in the country: they really don't understand privacy.  Most of the time this is due to the fact that just about everything is shared among family.  However, this extended further for SIT students because my family was constantly afraid that if I wandered anywhere by myself either I would fall into a hidden well or be attacked by a dog.  Both were very real fears, but being around the same people, especially ones you can't exactly communicate with, is very draining.  So whenever we could, my friends and I would steal away to play frisbee in the forest or just sit on a hill and read or talk.  This worked most of the time, until, one day, we encountered a boy who was herding sheep near a newly reforested part of the ridge.  We were attempted to get away from the group and have a little alone time, when all of a sudden we look back to find the shepherding boy we saw earlier at the bottom of the hill was following us up the hill with his sheep!  We attempted to change directions and go sideways across the hill, but he continued to follow us, all the sheep in tow.  So we continued to traverse the hill, until, finally, we lost him!  Many little children felt that they needed to attach themselves to you upon seeing you walk down the road, and so evasive maneuvers were sometimes necessary (see picture; almost nothing she is wearing is hers).  However, you did feel a strong sense of community as you walked down the street to hear people yelling "Salaam!" from across their field.