Shabbat Shalom!

This last Friday, I attended Shabbat services at Synagogue Beth-El in Marrakech.  Yes, there are Jews in Morocco, that song I learned in Hebrew School "Wherever You Go There is Always Someone Jewish" turns out to be true.  There are actually a lot of Jews in Morocco, ok, not A LOT, but there are about 7,000-6,000, mostly in Casablanca, but there are a few in Marrakech (260, most over the age of 60).  

I was raised both Christian and Reformist Jew, which makes me very versatile, and I figured if I attended church in Marrakech for Christmas I should be fair and attend Synagogue.  I contacted the President of the Jewish Community of Marrakech-Essoruia to make sure I didn't need a reservation (this question is going to seem very funny a few sentences from now), confirmed the time, and told him I was excited to meet him at services.


So, I get there.  The guard points me to the women's section (right, this is an Orthodox Synagogue), I walk in, no one.  Nope, no one in the women's section, just me.  I stand there.  I look at the bibles, all in Hebrew, no English or transliteration for the Reformist Jews.  Just Hebrew.  I grab a lace hair piece, stick it on, grab a bible that has SOME French in it and sit down.


The service, from what I can understand, is very democratic with each man (all six in attendance) in the man's section (good thing they don't ask the women or I would have been SCREWED!) read part of the service.  So it is not entirely led by the Rabbi.  I sit there for a good 15 minutes by myself until a woman walks in, we both stare at each other, and she asks if I am American, and I say YES! AND YOU! She says YES! and I am saved!  The American (a Fulbright Scholar named Sarah) tells me she is going to Shabbat dinner at the house of the President of the Jewish community and I should come, he is very nice, speaks English, and would enjoy talking to someone else who is interested in the History of the Moroccan Jews.


Services end and we meet in the courtyard with the men.  The President isn't there, his brother is, he comes up and says "Sarah?  You come with me.  Cucinotta, you go with him."  (Um, WHAT).  I give Sarah a look but she is already walking out the door, they turn one direction, and I go the other.  


We walk for about 15 minutes, and I tell them my life story in DARIJA (the whole time thinking I can't believe they understand me).  We get to his house, meet his family, eat (there is hallah!!!), and everything is going really well until they find out I am 27 and not married.  "WHAT? YOU ARE NOT MARRIED! You should have been married at 25!" they tell me.  I say I have lots and lots of time, in America we get married at 30-35 (ok, this might be a lie, but I really have no idea).  They laugh at me, silly American (btw why does everyone think I am so silly?). Turns out I have no time, I need to be married.  


I have gotten some pretty intense reactions from Muslim Moroccans about not being married, but when you combine the Moroccan culture with the yenta business in a shrinking Jewish community who needs babies to stay in existence, you have a pretty interesting reaction to unmarried young Jewish women and men.  "Do you want to get married?" they ask.  "Um, yeah, but I have time?" I reply.  "No, you have no time." they say.  "Ok" I respond awkwardly, "what do I do if I have no time?".  "You need to find a nice Jewish husband, do you want a nice Jewish husband?" they ask.  "Sure, as long as he can cook" I respond. Silence. They didn't get the joke, note to self, do not try to joke in Darija, your language is not that good.   


Dinner is finished, we say our goodbyes and I thank them for their hospitality and kindness.  On my walk home I realize that I might have mistakenly agree for them to find me a nice Jewish husband...but I guess as long as he can cook it might not be that bad.