One of my closest friend's cousin, 36-year old Rachid, died last night in his bathroom. How? According to the local expression, he was "swimming" in leaked gas from his buta (a metal canister of gas that all households use to cook and heat water with). Post-shower, as he was putting on his clothes, he passed out and never woke up. He has left behind a young wife, a little boy, and a little girl. Ajarakumallah.

My friend, of course, went to his house to console the family. In fact, everyone from her household--except the little 6-year old--went with her. When I knocked on their door this morning, I felt like something eerie happened. The usually bustling house was dead silent. The neighbors told me about Rachid, and the little boy eventually greeted me at the door. Instead of going to Rachid's house with the neighbors, I said I would wait at my friend's house for the sister to return.

Today wasn't the first time I found the 6-year old home alone, but I still feel uncomfortable with it. To keep himself occupied, he finds snacks in the kitchen, throws the rooftop chicken around, pretends to be Jackie Chan, rummages through Fatiha's sewing work, and puts everything in his mouth. I remember living with a host family in RIM, and my house felt like Never Never Land: adults were a rarity.

I wonder about the concept of role models here. For a culture where family is so tight, how can adults leave children unattended? At least this boy was in a house and told not to open the door (although he did open it for me). Do children act out more to get more attention?

So many random thoughts. I'd like to end this post with an excerpt from a gchat conversation with another PCV:
Peggy: i kind of enjoy making useless things
me: i enjoy searching for useless things
Peggy: if we could find ppl who enjoy collecting useless things we'd have a business

Any takers? :)

Things that Didn't Make Me Happy Today

-My neighbor's 5am banging on the door to be let in (he does it every night).

-2am drunk guy (?) trying to open my roof door.

-Little boys (who I actually adore) found a dead bird (neck broken) and asked if us Chinese people like to eat dead birds. Then, they started singing that Chinese people eat dirty things.

-Local high school teacher told me he was surprised a lot of high school girls and boys drink, have sex, and smoke (things society condones and brushes under the table) in B-town. B-town's not a big city (like Casa or Rabat) where most kids do experiment. Although, he said it's okay for boys to do those things, it is unforgivable for the girls. The girls in the head scarves who participate in class also may be the ones "hanging out" like the boys.

-I enjoyed learning "bad words" from a six-year old, ten-year old, and nineteen-year old. Then I realized those kids probably shouldn't know the things they were teaching me.

-Multiple men and boys who followed me, whispering indecent words, until I yelled at them.

-Having to yell at people to leave me alone.

-The little boy who sat on my doorstep, told me this was his house, and refused to leave. I grabbed his arm and asked where his mom was. Once the kid started crying, my neighbor actually intervened and said the kid doesn't know any better. So many kids lie then cry to get their way.

-Group of men who decided to hold a meeting on my doorstep at 9:15pm.

-Today is day 3 of small town protests.

-Not being in perfect health. Having to walk slower than a snail otherwise I couldn't breathe.

-Almost everyone I talked to in town also is sick.

-Boys on bicycles who like to play chicken with me.

Thank Allah for vino, brownies, chats with friendly PC staff/friends/hanut owners, and taco seasoning.

Things that Made Me Happy Today

-Weekend phone calls with mom

-Fennel mac & cheese with Aunty M's dill

-Kids (in the artisan families I'm close to) running up to give me the biggest hugs and kisses, and 6 year old boys not afraid to hold my hand in public

-Confiscating the playing cards belonging to the brats in the neighborhood and them apologizing instead of retaliating

-Finishing 'Tis, by Frank McCourt

-Knowing my hot chocolate provides me with as much calcium as in milk

-Creating a goals/action plan poster that should last until COS (I come home in November!)

-Walking by a peaceful protest (inspired by North African/Middle East events, unemployed men and women gathered together "downtown") without any harm done to me

-Not hearing "chinouiya" once

-Pink fingerless gloves

-Sunny day and warmer weather

-Having a R&R day (doctor's orders) for the first time in awhile

-Chatting with my best high school and college friends on gmail

-Knowing I'll fulfill my pizza craving in Rabat next week, no inshallahs added!

Egypt

As you may or may not have known, I left Morocco in January for the first time since September 2009 to visit my friend in Egypt and travel all around the country. Or so I thought. Great timing, if you enjoy being in the midst of protests and a government upheaval. Now that I'm back in B-town, I'm amazed how spectacular, emotional, and intense my travel experiences seemed at the time. This blog entry and my +500 photos on Snapfish can't do justice to the amazing things I saw and experienced in Egypt and Istanbul (yeah, the Istanbul trip was a surprise to me too). Now, warm welcomes, overdue reports, and mandatory visits/guests are making me trivialize everything I felt from the moment I checked in at Casablanca airport. Regardless, I owe everyone who cared about me during this time some form of news...so please read on.

I felt a lot of ups and downs during the three weeks. I cried at the Casablanca airport when I bumped into Mauritanians heading to Nouakchott and tried to talk to them in Hassaniya. What started as a friendly conversation turned into let's-get-away-from-the-unstable-girl-who-started-bawling-as-conversation-went-on. Transportation problems and scams plagued my whole trip. My canceled flights to and from Cairo, paying bribes to taxi/train workers and tour guides, and fending off offers for camel/horse/feluca rides were more than annoying at the time. One night in Suez, I teared up thinking that this would be the end of me, even if I gave away my gold ring and finger it was on. Everyone in town was riled up and furious with the American-backed president, high food prices, and gang street violence. Yet, I made it out safely (post-bribing drivers, post-many roadblocks, and post-sleeping next to a tank) and got to spend time with an old PC friend and see some pretty amazing sites before the protests and curfew started. Thankfully, even while waiting at the airport for my evacuation flight (God bless being an American), we were able to joke around and have fun. Now that Mubarak stepped down, I wonder if the country will regain stability and I'll be able to return this year. I definitely want to.

In less than a week, I saw the remains of pyramids and temples over 4000 years old, toured parts of Islamic Cairo and Khan, walked over ancient sites in Luxor, feluca-ed in Aswan, joined a tour group to Abu Simbel, ate my heart out in Hurghada, almost spent a night on the streets of Suez, experienced house arrest/forced chill-out time in Zagazig, and perhaps walked a thousand miles (slight exaggeration). Seeing my first mummy made my heart race, hieroglyphics in color made my heart skip a beat, and trying to climb the mountain at the Valley of the Kings literally took my breath away. I had to sit and wait for my friends to scale to the top and come back. I hated my once-athletic body for being out of shape, I hated being branded as a rich/privileged foreigner, I hated that my Darija and vagina made me nonsensical, and I hated recognizing that these things were true in Egypt. Not to sound like a self-centered, corny downer, I want these realizations to force me to change things I don't like about myself and, at the same time, just enjoy whatever path life throws me.

On a submarine ride in the Red Sea, I unexpectedly saw a sunken seahorse across the aisle. In hindsight, I liken noticing that site to this trip to Egypt and my stopover in Istanbul. Most things didn't turn out as I expected, but I enjoyed myself tremendously and expanded my mind. Yah, I glossed over the trip details....If you're interested in hearing more, we can go over my photos and stories in person in AMERICA this winter. Just treat this poor volunteer to a pizza and red wine first :)

Happy 50th Anniversary!

I learned how to embed a video into my blog!

Yes, I recommend PC to anyone with an open mind. However, hope I have other things to talk about (like food!) when I return to the states this year...

Suprises du Jour

Perhaps these blurbs from my day today are only surprises to foreigners like me living in Btown:

-After living here for more than a year, one of the post office workers kindly told me my address is INCORRECT: "11" Janvier, not "En" Janvier. Will have to update the blog and fbook. According to the other PO employee though, the wrong address is not a problem. Regardless, still haven't received Jen's and Carl's packages...

-Picked up my carte du sejour! Am I the first in my stage with one??? So what if my profession and address are wrong (despite photocopying each of my attestation, ID card, and telephone bill 15 times...and this adds up to a lot of money!)? According to the head policeman (and despite my 2nd round of complaining), the wrong information is not a problem.

-One of the bag-maker's and I were going over new bag designs for the next craft fair. We playfully argued over who gets to share her ideas first, and I started. She's told me before I have the best darija out of all the PCVs she met at the December craft fair, but apparently, we still can't communicate. After I said and gave a visual example of one bag idea, she grabbed the same fabrics and repeated what I said. Um hello, I just said that! She laughed and said we have the same brain.

-Two women I know in town greeted me and told everyone around us that I knew darija better than them. I told them they were liars, which caused the small crowd to laugh and exclaim that this girl really did know darija. Too bad not everyone can be so easily fooled.

-Fatiha and I went to the thread store to check out colors for an earrings order. The neighboring mul hanut said we weren't allowed into the store until the owner came back. When the mul returned, I asked him if I could photograph colors to email to my friend and--once I knew which colors she preferred--would buy some of the colors later. He told me to take the whole bag of threads (worth +50dh=one night in a hotel in Marrakesh) with me and pay him back later. I joked with him that I won't come back, which startled him. But then he laughed and said, "no problem."

-Fatiha and I also went to the zipper store. She saw silver fabric she really liked and asked the mul hanut to show it to her. This large piece of fabric was someone else's leftovers, so he gave it to us for free!

-My friend's very masculine older brother tells me his absolute favorite musical group is...The Cra-bur-es. What? He played girly, alternative music on his cell phone. Oh, the Cranberries!

-My neighbor invited me into her house to see her son's new baby boy. I swear to Allah she said, "wuld wuldi." When I asked how old is he, she said "he's" 40 days old. So imagine my surprise when the baby's parents are calling it a girl's name and referring to her as a girl!

Oh Morocco, how I love thee...

Speaking of, do you love these bag ideas and colors?

Fat Bread

Last year, my home-stay family served me cold khobz shHma, aka fat bread. By "fat," I mean lard, which can be very delicious when cooked right. However, the oily tortillas wrapped around congealed fat were not delicious, and that night, it coated my mouth and throat no matter how many times I brushed my teeth. Since that meal, I tried to avoid khobz shHma.

Have I been missing out...

Last night, my neighbor and I prepared the most delicious fat bread, and it changed my point of view. Here's her "recipe:"

Knead:
-Flour
-Pinch of salt
-Yeast
-Warm water
Cover dough and let it rise. In the meantime,

Saute:
-2 cups finely diced red onions
-1 cup finely diced frozen fat (ideally, saved from the 3id Kbir sheep)
-bushel of finely chopped coriander
-Salt, pepper, ginger, cumin, paprika, and hot pepper flakes to taste
-1 T olive oil

1. Divide dough into ping-pong ball sizes and roll like mochi.
2. With well-oiled hands and surfaces, flatten one ball as thin as possible into a tortilla. The tortilla should be larger than my hand.
3. Put a tablespoon of the cooked fat mixture in the center of the tortilla.
4. Fold the top third of the tortilla over the mixture. Repeat with the bottom third, then the right side and left side. Turn the "burrito" upside-down.
5. Roll out another well-oiled ball into a well-oiled, thin tortilla.
6. Place the first "burrito" in the center of the second tortilla. You should see only one layer of dough above the spoonful of fat.
7. Fold the top third of the tortilla over the other "burrito." Repeat with the bottom third, then right side and left side.
8. With well-oiled hands, pat the tortillas down so they are only about an inch thick.
9. Repeat until you've used up your fat mixture and dough. *We counted out how many balls of dough pairs were rolled, then we divided the fat mixture into equal spoonfuls accordingly.
10. Place oiled "double burritos" on a well-oiled tray and bake on low heat. *We don't use temperature gauges here.

When the bread layers are lightly golden and crisp, turn over each "burrito." Cook until the whole flaky bread is golden brown.

Serve the fat bread hot! Enjoy with a hot glass of sweet mint, flio tea!

Unfortunately, I was too busy eating to take a photo of our fat bread (which I heated up again for breakfast, and again forgot to take a photo of). If you combine the two photos below into one, our fat bread would look like that:


For recipe variations, meat, fish, or any non-watery vegetable can also be added to the fat mixture. Let me know how your fat breads turn out!