Saturday, February 9, 2013

Joha Found (Another Slice of Daily Life in Morocco)


            A friend of mine here who on occasion practices his English by reading my blog suggested the other day that I should stop searching for Joha because I’ve already found him, and been hiding the secret for months at that.  He argues, not unreasonably, that the owner of our favorite café is probably the most Joha like character I’m likely to meet in the course of my service.  While I’m not totally convinced, I think I’ll share a few stories about this potential Joha (who I’ll call Nasuredin for convenience) and let you all decide.

            Nasuredin is a skinny man of average height.  He sports a tightly packed helmet of curls, and at all times walks around with a trickster’s gleam in his eyes.  Very few things he says aren’t puns of some sort, usually requiring the listener to quickly move from Darija to Tamazight to Standard Arabic to colloquial Egyptian Arabic and back—this, unfortunately, will spoil some of the jokes.  He’s very glad I’m just starting Tamazight since my Darija is getting good enough that he can’t fool me quite as easily in it.  Now he’s got a whole new language to mislead me in.

            Some pieces of Nasuredin’s wisdom:

A friend and I walk into the café eating a traditional snack of fried potato balls (makuda).  “You two must be very complicated (ma’koda in Standard Arabic) men.  You always bring complications into my café.”

“You know, if I hit you with this broom stick you could never have children.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To test a superstition.”

“A beautiful (gmila in colloquial Egyptian Arabic) Moroccan girl went to visit Cairo.  She wondered why everyone kept calling her stew (gmila in Darija).”

One day while we were sitting outside he came out of a door I thought was to the next house over carrying our tea and announced, “A mouse needs many holes.”

On another day I asked for some tea (dqa atay, in slang Darija).  When he brought it out he apologized to my friends, but said he had to give one of them a beating with the tea (dka atay).

While sweeping up he asked if we should pack up some of the dust and send it to the last volunteer, “since he probably misses it by now.”

“What are you two doing here so early?  You’re always my last customers.  If you keep coming this early you’ll put me out of business!”

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