sugar

After telling people about my sugar dream, I thought to myself, why not share it with everyone?
And so, it all started the day my host-mother Fadma ran out of sugar from the bucket and had to literally, crack open another cone of hard sugar with a rock the size of a softball. That night, I dreamt about sugar.
“I was in bed, woken up by officials in uniform, knocking at my door. Soon after, I was standing in line with every person from my village. When I reached the front of the line, the man alerted me that I had consumed so much sugar that I had to pay so many dirhams to cover the sugar-consumption tax. I asked them how they could possibly know how much sugar I had consumed. With a look of more disappointment than sympathy, this man, told me that they had been watching me for quite some time, with endless footage of tea, cake, and cookies. This followed with a whisper to my ear, from the woman standing behind me, telling me that sugar indeed, was responsible for not only feeding this country, but also funding the government.”
If this dream was real, I’d be financially ruined. With all the readily available sweet confections, I’ve already caught myself making references to sugar tax. Especially during this particular and very important lEid, which marked the end of Ramadan, I’ve had numerous opportunities to indulge myself with mint tea and cookies. Christmas memories crossed my mind as my host-family cleaned the house and put on their new garb. What surprised me was that, my host-sister, whom always covers her head, had me curl her hair! It was really interesting to wear a traditional jellaba and walk around our community. I went from house to house with my CBT group visiting families in the morning and then later, with my host-mother, visiting more family and friends. It was funny seeing the looks on tourists’ faces when they see Americans in Moroccan attire. What’s even more interesting is seeing the look on Moroccans’ faces when they see Americans in Moroccan attire. I must have gone to 12 houses that weekend. That weekend was great but exhausting! Oh so back to sugar right? You can just do the math and imagine how many cups of sweet tea and cookies I had.

In with the fam...

A pic of our village's famous kasbah!
Somehow, even though it's only been three weeks since I've left the US, it feels like a heck of a bit longer. When people say that it's easier to learn a language when you're immersed in it, I think they forget to mention that it can also be super-frustrating, for lack of a better word. After seven days of learning Tashlheet, (a berber dialect spoken in various regions) I've managed to amuse and entertain my family with my hilarious phonetic pronounciations. However, it's clear that Moroccan television will always come in first in terms of entertainment!
Let me introduce you to my host family. Let's see...there's Fadma, my host mom. She's in one word - amazing. For being just shy of 29, she spends all day cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children and making sure that everyone is fed, which includes sheep, goats and chicken! I will never be half as tough as she is. Her husband, Abdelmalik, is a kind of slender man with bulging cheekbones. Working as a guide at the Kasbah, he's able to communicate in more than 4 languages, which also means that he gets to be the lucky one to translate some of Fadma's fast phrases into pocket English. They have three children--Salua, Zakaria, and Hajar. I absolutely adore these kids. I'm so grateful to have such a welcoming family with such patience and hospitality. So far, my host father has already told me that it would be no problem if I stayed 2 years. We'll see what they think of me at the end of training in two months!