(no subject)
Greetings from the Morocco!
The month of Ramadan has ended now, but several memories will remain with me for a long time. I was invited over to the homes of several of my Moroccan friends to break the fast when the sun goes down. This meal is called the ‘fador.’ On one occasion, I met a man (Abdella) in a café and, after talking for a while, he invited me over to break the fast with him and his family. We walked to his house and I was introduced to his whole family, including the women. This is unusual, as it is not customary for a stranger to meet the female members of the family until a strong friendship develops. We ate a huge fador meal consisting of hererra (lentil soup), olives, dates, bread, a pasty mixture of ground peanuts and spices, limsimon dripping with butter (fried flat bread with bits of meat and spices inside), various kinds of fruit, and pots of mint tea. As always, by the end of the meal I was stuffed! My friend, Abdella, then took me for a walk to meet the rest of his family in their homes. We walked for hours from house to house meeting people as he struggled to explain to me how he was related to each of them! At each house, we were invited in and more food was laid before us. Every time I finally convinced the host that I couldn’t eat another bite, he would take away the dish and bring out the next course and more mint tea! By the time we got back to Abdella’s house I was so full I hurt and thoroughly buzzed from the many glasses of caffeine and sugar loaded mint tea. Abdella then sat me down and introduced me to his sister, who we sat down next to me. It dawned on me then that there was a purpose behind taking me around to meet his entire family. He was going to try to marry me to his sister! I was forced to sit for an hour while all the family in the room told me of all the great qualities of Abdella’s sister Fatima. Fatima just sat there and smiled at me, while I turned various shades of red and tried to talk my way out of the situation. The embarrassment climaxed when after much hushed discussion over an English/Arabic dictionary, the Mother announced to me in broken English, “Fatima is Virgin!” None of my cultural training prepared me for that. Finally the main meal came out and although it halted the advances of the family I once again had to defy the laws of physics and put more food into my body. After the meal and a promise of seeing them again the next night I was allowed to go home. As I walked back to my apartment at 1:30am, I realized I had been with Abdella and his family for seven and a half hours and would do the same again the following evening! Welcome to Morocco…
The month of Ramadan has ended now, but several memories will remain with me for a long time. I was invited over to the homes of several of my Moroccan friends to break the fast when the sun goes down. This meal is called the ‘fador.’ On one occasion, I met a man (Abdella) in a café and, after talking for a while, he invited me over to break the fast with him and his family. We walked to his house and I was introduced to his whole family, including the women. This is unusual, as it is not customary for a stranger to meet the female members of the family until a strong friendship develops. We ate a huge fador meal consisting of hererra (lentil soup), olives, dates, bread, a pasty mixture of ground peanuts and spices, limsimon dripping with butter (fried flat bread with bits of meat and spices inside), various kinds of fruit, and pots of mint tea. As always, by the end of the meal I was stuffed! My friend, Abdella, then took me for a walk to meet the rest of his family in their homes. We walked for hours from house to house meeting people as he struggled to explain to me how he was related to each of them! At each house, we were invited in and more food was laid before us. Every time I finally convinced the host that I couldn’t eat another bite, he would take away the dish and bring out the next course and more mint tea! By the time we got back to Abdella’s house I was so full I hurt and thoroughly buzzed from the many glasses of caffeine and sugar loaded mint tea. Abdella then sat me down and introduced me to his sister, who we sat down next to me. It dawned on me then that there was a purpose behind taking me around to meet his entire family. He was going to try to marry me to his sister! I was forced to sit for an hour while all the family in the room told me of all the great qualities of Abdella’s sister Fatima. Fatima just sat there and smiled at me, while I turned various shades of red and tried to talk my way out of the situation. The embarrassment climaxed when after much hushed discussion over an English/Arabic dictionary, the Mother announced to me in broken English, “Fatima is Virgin!” None of my cultural training prepared me for that. Finally the main meal came out and although it halted the advances of the family I once again had to defy the laws of physics and put more food into my body. After the meal and a promise of seeing them again the next night I was allowed to go home. As I walked back to my apartment at 1:30am, I realized I had been with Abdella and his family for seven and a half hours and would do the same again the following evening! Welcome to Morocco…