Ramadan: A month of adjustment

I am now nearly 3 weeks into the month of Ramadan. Despite the feeling of it being more like 3 months into this special month long holiday, the minutes continue to slowly tick by, and 10 days still remain.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the holiday...it's just that life here, which is usually much slower than anything one would experience in the states, has become significantly even slower. My dar chebab, while technically open, is basically closed for me to work in, in that all the girls(who comprise most of my student body) are busy during normal class hours with cooking and cleaning, and thus cannot attend my classes. My mudir (director of the dar chebab) advised me that it would be best to just wait until after Ramadan for classes. When I dumbly asked the rhetorical question of "well what will I do instead?" he simply replied "aji hna u shrb atay maaya" (come here and drink tea with me). Sometimes I think that without tea people here would be thrust into a catatonic state of existence. Good thing for tea.

So my days of this month are spent giving myself a variety of productive(so I like to call them) tasks to accomplish during the day, and eating the lftour meal in various places at night. I am not fasting, although I have made several attempts in order to optimize my integration. These attempts usually consist of not eating much more than a yogurt packet during the day, yet drinking water consistently. When people ask me if I am fasting (which is asked so much it sometimes takes the place of "hello") I simply reply "shwya", or "sort of", and they seem to be content that I am at least putting forth an effort.

The lftour meals however, while a bit monotonous, are indeed delicious. They also provide a free way to eat most nights, in that many families are eager to invite me over for it. An example of this was last night, when waiting to buy the 13Dh(about $1.50) meal for myself at a local restaurant, I was approached by a guy I had never met before, who asked where I was eating that night. When I told him I was planning on buying food, he insisted that I come with him instead, for which I willingly obliged. The food was great, and now I have yet another friend in Tinjdad. While walking back to my house afterward, I kept thinking about the circumstances in which a stranger would approach me and insist that I come over for dinner in the states. My conclusion was an attempt of murder or seduction; that’s it. Indeed, for every frustrating aspect a culture may have, there seems to be one of awesomeness.

Oh yes, and I have now officially been in Morocco for over a year. Only a year and 2½ months to go!

Until next time...