I brought
in the New Year by emerging from the desert on camelback. Needless to say I missed family and friends
back home this holiday season, but if I have to miss you all I’m glad I did it
in the most awesome way possible. The
way involving a camel. Actually, they’re
massively uncomfortable, but we’ll get to that later.
The
Christmas season started a day or two after my last post when the first of my
friends arrived at my site to help decorate and carry the massive amount of
veggies we’d be eating for the next week from souk. Not too much to talk about there, other than
a few culinary successes (I had run out of curry powder, but managed to make a
pretty passable blend using spices in my kitchen, the ingredients list on an
empty jar, and my nose as guides (I’m sure some of my Indian friends are
scoffing that I ever use premixed powder)).
Before the other guests arrived we took a hike up a nearby mountain,
stopping off at a local friend’s family farm, since Moroccan hikes often
involve a tea break. Up on the mountain
we found evidence of wild boar. For one
terrifying moment we were convinced we were done for when we confused the sound
of flushed quails for a boar snarl. If
you’ve never heard it before they’re quite loud and terrifying en masse for
such small birds. Once all my guests had
arrived we made a valiant attempt at Christmas decorations, complete with a
singing Alvin and the Chipmunks tree left by a previous volunteer, blue tinsel,
a blow up Santa we’d disconcertingly found in Khenifra, and even some
jerry-rigged mistletoe. It led to a
weird juxtaposition between indoors and out.
Inside my house ‘twas the season to by jolly, outside it was just any
old day in Morocco.
Christmas
itself went remarkably smoothly, though one of my local friends got to play
hero when he dealt with a dangerously clogged toilet. This Christmas plumbing miracle netted him an
invite to a solidly American holiday breakfast of eggs, pancakes, and sweet
potato hash browns (sweet and savory), though we had to warn him off the bacon
one of my guest’s boyfriends had brought from the States. The day after Christmas we hosted a Christmas
party at the local Dar Chabab.
Precluding most of the religious elements (we just mentioned that it celebrates
the birth of the Christian prophet), we explained how Christmas is an important
American holiday celebrated by spending time with family, exchanging gifts, and
eating special foods. We caroled a
little for the kids, explained Santa Claus and the tree (the singing tree also
caroled), and served Christmas cookies (which were a hit) and apple cider
(which wasn’t). After most of the 83
younger kids filed out we sat and chatted with some of the older kids, who we
taught the chorus of “Deck the Halls” and in turn heard some songs sung to
celebrate the birth of the prophet Mohammed.
Other than the one girl who late in the night asked “Shnu Christmas?”
(What is Christmas?), the party went well, and luckily the other students could
define it for her. For me, the happiest
moment was when the director of the youth center made a speech for the younger
kids about peace, goodwill, and how Americans, Moroccans, and the rest of the
world aren’t really that different, proving that he at least understood the
true sentiment of the holiday.
The days
between Christmas and New Year’s were long and hard and I kind of wish I’d
taken the time off instead of trying to teach since I don’t think my lessons
were all that good. Despite that, the
students seemed happy and kept up learning, so it could have been worse. The day before New Year’s Eve my scattered
guests returned (some had stayed and helped with classes) and we all travelled
together down to Erfoud, a city at the edge of the Sahara desert. Meeting up with a host of other volunteers we
set out into the desert from the popular starting point of Merzouga.
Now, without further ado, my
impressions of riding a camel. They’re
not particularly high, as I said above camels are not a comfortable form of
travel. The first day I rode a smaller,
older camel (who the Moroccans called El-Hajj) with a lot of experience, and
with him the ride wasn’t too bad. After
a few minutes my body learned how to roll with his motion—it’s not too far off
of the motion used to stay stable on a boat—and since he wasn’t all that fat I
didn’t get the famous saddle sores people always complain about. However, on New Year’s riding out of the
desert I rode the largest camel, a young and inexperienced buck we christened
Walt (Moroccan name unknown). Walt was
very fat, and I learned all about saddle sores from him. He also had an inconsistent, rough, and
pronounced rhythm, so while I’d ridden gracefully on El-Hajj, Walt made me feel
like I was riding a jackhammer. If I
were ever to be in a caravan I’d want El-Hajj, though I guess if I were riding
a camel into battle Walt would be the beast of choice.
 |
| Since I had my beard and my friend had his djellaba he was "Ali Baba" and I was "Ali Baba without djellaba" |
The desert is too stunningly
beautiful for words. “Desolate” doesn’t
begin to describe it, “breathtaking” is an understatement, and “expansive” can’t
contain the wild expanse of sand. Even
the pictures won’t come close to doing it justice this time; it’s just too
otherworldly.
Out at the desert camp we ate
tagines, watched the sunset, listened to our guides sing and drum, sang for
them in return, gazed at the stars, and traded riddles and jokes late into the
night. That was actually harder than it
sounds, none of the guides spoke much English and some of them weren’t fluent
in Darija either, their first language was Tamazight and one or two only knew
as much Arabic as we do. One claimed he
knew less. That being said, we still got
by. I’ll share my favorite Moroccan
riddle I learned that night. There are
three sisters. One always eats, one
sleeps and will never rise again, the last will travel and never return. Who are they?
I’ll put the answer at the end of the post.
After I returned home I jumped
right back into classes, and I’m glad I did because some students mentioned an
interest in organizing the old Dar Chabab library so that we can start lending
out books. After the writing club on
Saturday four students and my mudir sat through a lesson of mine on library
organization and we started to decide on Dewey decimal numbers for some of the
nonfiction collection. They really
seemed to enjoy it and took ownership of the project really quickly, so
hopefully this time the library will continue after the volunteer leaves (it
has basically been an unused room since the last Youth Development Volunteer
left three years ago). As for the
classes themselves this week I felt like I had some real successes. In the writing club some students finally had
the confidence to write and read some longer pieces. In my advanced class we started to parse the
Declaration of Independence. While we
had to proceed quite slowly I was impressed at how well they dealt with it,
because the only “edits” I made were to correct for modern spellings.
That’s all for now, Happy New Year
to everyone, and remember, if you want an exotic vacation this year I’m always
willing and excited to show people around!
The answer to the riddle:
Fire always eats, kindling sleeps
and never rises, and smoke travels but will never return.
No comments:
Post a Comment