All this blog silence is a direct result of the following:
-Lots of travel, conferences, and workshops.
-All teaching, mentoring, and meeting duties in full swing.
-General internet annoyances that make uploading anything seem like a major chore!
That back log of photos and tales is getting to be too much though so I hope to share some of these experiences now before it is all a distant memory.
One of our best experiences we have had took place a while ago. We were invited to a citrus farm for a celebration of the Prophet's birthday event. My colleague Youssef invited us and a number of other professors from our university were in attendance as well. We made our way to some farmland just outside of Agadir to a former teacher-turned-citrus farmer's land. It was a gorgeous place with roads lined with lemon trees, heavy with fruit. The grounds were set up with huge tents, white chairs and a stage...much like an outdoor wedding. As we waited for guests to arrive we toured the farm. The lemon trees were so full that lemons were falling to the ground and it was killing me not to grab some...oh the candied citrus peel that could come of this! I didn't remember the camera so we don't have photos to share.
Finally, it was time for the festivities to begin. A lovely and delicious Arab culture tradition at many events is guests are welcomed with dates and a small glass of milk. Because it was a type of religious celebration, the women sat at tables on one side and the men on the other with many children buzzing about between the two groups.
This meant Ryan got our English speaking colleague and it was Arabench (my Arabic/French mix) for me. In our attempts to speak as much Arabic with Moroccans as possible (instead of French) we just say the Moroccan Arabic structures and vocabulary we know and we insert the French vocabulary when we need it. The amazing thing is the Moroccans don't bat an eye. They are never confused by it and in fact many say they do that all the time (maybe not in the sloppy way we do it), and it works.
The ceremony began with a reading from the Koran and some prayers. Then the band played a number of songs and they passed out lyrics books. I liked these because they are printed with the Arabic writing with diacritics (the small accent type marks that show you how to pronounce the letters) this allowed me to follow along with...oh say....the first 6 words. Then the ladies I was sitting with would point out where we were in the song. Great reading practice for me!
We had been at the farm for quite a while and most events, meetings, and occasions get going a bit later than planned so I was getting hungry! Then servers came around with small servings of cake and avocado smoothies in small cups for the women. I looked across and noticed the men weren't getting this treat. I knew Ryan would be sad. More songs from the band and waiting for the meal to begin. The many children in attendance were entertained with two clowns and a hotdog cart. Children would wander in and out of the seating area, coming to their mothers to complain about some kid injustice, on the verge of tears, or excitedly wanting to share something they had discovered.
Not too much later the meal began in full force. The servers came around with silver kettles to wash our hands (I love these rituals) and then quickly returned with huge domed platters with giant seafood bastillas. We had learned to make a version of this in our cooking class in Marrakech. This picture below shows the general idea of what it looked like...but it was huge... the size of a turkey platter. We pulled pieces of the pastry that is filled with chopped vermicelli noodles, fish, calamari, onions, seasonings and all kinds of other goodness that I couldn't notice because I was too blissed out eating it. There was one giant bastilla per table of about six people. I was getting full...and we had only just begun.
Then it was time for dessert. Towering platters of fresh fruit arrived with little sharp knives for peeling. I tried to keep it simple with a kiwi....keep a low profile...then big sections of orange and apple were being given to me. You just have to go with it.
Before tea and cookies we had some more songs from the band...and a little digestion time! The children were getting wired on cokes and orange sodas and a few had come by for handfuls of bastilla and tagine (how can a hotdog compare?). The biggest discovery for the children was the stray lemons on the ground (and more than a few pulled from the low hanging branches). A mom I was sitting near watched as her son had removed his jacket and turned it into a make shift carrying device. He filled it with so many lemons he was having trouble carrying it and walking back to the kid crowd. We watched him try to maneuver his bounty and as he got near us he looked up, wild eyed and grinning, and shouted, "CITRONE!!!" like he had just found a mound of gold coins.
Pots of Moroccan tea came around and trays of
cookies. The band was finished and digging into their own meal so we had time
to walk around and mingle. Finally, it was time to say goodbye and as we
were making our way to the parking lot field a colleague said, 'Yep...7 hours
later, we are finished with lunch. If this were a wedding we would be here
until 7am'. And that's how it's done in Morocco.