The Incident of the Stolen Watermelons

(stolen watermelons)

After a series of relatively un-important events I was asked to go to Tangier.  I traveled to Tangier the day before Ramadan and back to my site the first day of Ramadan.  But Ramadan is not one of the those crazy party holidays, it lasts for 29 to 30 days where Muslims fast from dawn until sunset to celebrate the revelation of the Quran to the Prophet Mohammed.  So yeah, not a crazy party holiday.  So I was not concerned about traveling during Ramadan and figured the worst I would encounter during my travels to and from Tangier would be a busy train and slightly more grumpy people, because I get grumpy when I don't eat and I think that is pretty common for most people.  


The trip started off great.  I got one of those nice new cars with air-conditioning and a window seat.  I was one of the only people in the car and I felt like I was in first class.   This was until we pulled up to the Ksbah Kbir train stop.  


The station was FILLED with rowdy boys, HUNDREDS of them, off to a beach day in Asilah.  They started banging on the train as it went by and quickly stormed the train taking over my car with a strong smell of sweat and cigarettes.  Having not grown up under a rock I knew this was no good and that this was going to f***ing suck, and it did, it did BIG TIME.  


So I put my "bitch face" on and didn't let anyone sit next to me.  The boys (averaging from age 10-30) started jumping on the seats, taking off their shirts, laying in the baggage compartments, smoking cigarettes, smoking weed, drinking, and being generally annoying pains in the ass.  I finally relented and let someone sit next to me, but not after I gave them my "If you mess with me I will seriously f***ing kick your ass bitch face."  The train ride continued as fights broke out, weed was smoked, and glue was sniffed.  And then the train stopped...


As we were waiting for the train to continue after some a**hole pulled the emergency break, a few of the geniuses of the group decided to leave the train and start stealing watermelons from the field beside the tracks.  This caused the Watermelon Man who owned the field to start throwing rocks at the thieves, who because they are geniuses decided to throw rocks back, which resulted in a two hour delay as the Gendarme and Police raided the train to find the morons who thought it would be a good idea to delay their beach day by stealing watermelons, WATERMELONS.  


I could tell all this excitement was getting the idiots around me more excited and more bold.  The New Jersian in me knew I had to act before shit hit the fan and I got caught in the middle.  I couldn't leave my seat because the last girls who tried to leave the train car had some issues.  So I had to think fast because I could tell they wanted to talk to try and get to know me.  Having the uncanny ability to emasculate a man with the "you are a piece of s**t card" I decided to ask my seat mates in an extremely loud voice  "Before Ramadan, do men always do such horrible things as drink, smoke weed, sniff glue, and STEAL?"  Silence.  So, I asked again "Before Ramadan, do men usually act this horrible?" Silence. 


As the guilt started to slowly spread through the group of boys around me, the Gendarme and Police came into the train.  It was easy to spot the thieves because they were the ones holding watermelons or pieces of watermelons.  And then the tears started.  The Gendarme and Police smacked the thieves they caught around a bit for being, you know, f***ing idiots not to mention bitches for crying.  I mean honestly, grow a pair.    


The train finally started to move again, and a few of the boys, probably in an attempt to prove to the foreigner they weren't completely horrible people, offered me some stolen watermelon.  Me, being unable to let a piece of s**t get away with anything, said "God sees everything, Happy Ramadan" and I refused the watermelon.  I have never punched someone in the gut, but I am pretty sure the faces that resulted from my comment look pretty close to the face someone would make if punched in the gut.  They all got off at Asilah without even a goodbye, as you can tell, I was heartbroken.


Badass-Ometer:
Lucia: 2, Watermelon Thieves: -4


Please note that there is no Mardi Gras of Ramadan.  So these boys were being a**holes, REAL BIG a**holes and should be ashamed of themselves.  If their mother's ever found out what they did they would be begging for the Gendarme and Police to save them.  Also, for all the train rides I have been on, I have NEVER seen anything like this, which is one of the reasons I am writing about it, I mean who steals watermelons?  Finally, I was not at all hurt during this incident. except for my nose, which had to endure the smell of dirty boy, weed, cigarette smoke, and glue for about 3 hours.  But at least I gained some Badass-Ometer points out of it.  
   

Conspiracy Theories

It must be out of pure confusion or stupidity I get caught up in what I call "awkward conspiracy theory conversations."  While I have never before been in so many "awkward conspiracy theory conversations" as I have in had in this country, with a complete number of about 5, that doesn't mean that "awkward conspiracy theory conversations" are specific to Morocco.  Granted, I have had 5 more here then I have had anywhere else I have been, but crazies exist everywhere amiright?  I also think people are like "let's talk to this American chick about our conspiracies to see how she reacts to prove if they are true or false" sort of thing.


The funny thing about these conversations is I never know they are really happening until it is too late and I have somehow been indirectly accused of being a key player in the conspiracy.  I think this has to do with my language skills, and as the person is speaking I am wondering if I am in fact hearing things correctly or if I am just crazy and making them up?  But I find that I can easily get out of these "awkward conspiracy theory conversations" by talking about the weather, so that is kind of a relief, please see examples below:


Example 1


Me: Hey, I know you like space, did you hear they found a new planet in our solar system?
Acquaintance 1: Yeah, it is interesting.
Me: I wonder if we are going to visit it?
Acquaintance 1: Like America visited the moon?
Me: Yeah, sure, whey not?  But maybe in can be more collaborative this time and it can be with the Russians, and even some Moroccans!
Acquaintance 1: Have you ever seen pictures of the moonwalk?
Me: Yeah, you know in school and stuff.
Acquaintance 1: No, I mean the REAL pictures?
Me: (Wait, is he implying what I think he is implying?) Um?
Acquaintance 1: You know if you ever really look at the pictures, there are scientist that say, based on the pictures, they aren't real because the way the flag is, and that they weren't really taken on the moon.
Me: (Wait, I think he is trying to say what I think he is trying to say) Oh?
Acquaintance 1: There are some websites and videos on YouTube you know.
Me: (Yeah, like I believe all the shit I see on the internet and YouTube, you know I saw a cat fly in a YouTube video once, flew right across the room, pretty cute actually) Wow, it is hot today, this sun is just so hot!
Acquaintance 1: Yes, it is really hot today!


Example 2


Me: Yes, I have family who live in New York City.
Acquaintance 2: Were they in New York for 9/11?
Me: (I think I should be concerned about where this is going...) Um, yeah?
Acquaintance 2: You know 6,000 Jews didn't show up to work on the day of 9/11?
Me: (FML) Excuse me?
Acquaintance 2: 6,000 Jews didn't show up to work at the Twin Towers that day.
Me: (Is he trying to say what I think he is trying to say?) Um, you do know I am Jewish right?
Acquaintance 2: (awkward silence)  Well...  
Me: Have you ever been to a financial or law firm in New York City?  
Acquaintance 2: No.
Me: Have you ever been to New York City?
Acquaintance 2: No.
Me: Well if you had you would know that most likely on 9/11 8,000 people decided not to go to work that day, and 6,000 just happened to be Jewish, because, you know, it is New York.
Acquaintance 2: Yes, but you should look at some websites and YouTube videos.
Me: (WTF is up with believing everything you see on the internet? Maybe I should show him the flying cat video...)
Acquaintance 2: They just make some interesting points.
Me: Wait, you do know I am Jewish, right? Are you trying to imply I had something to do with 9/11?
Acquaintance 2: I mean...Israel.
Me: Maybe it is time I taught you the phrase "digging yourself into a hole"...
Acquaintance 2: Well, if you just...
Me: Wow, it is really hot today! This Moroccan sun is just so strong!
Acquaintance 2: Yes, I know, it is very hot and sunny today!
   
Example 3


Acquaintance 3: Have you ever heard of the Stone Masons?
Me: (oh, FML) Yes, I used to run by their headquarters in DC, really interesting building, I always wanted a tour, they give free tours you know?
Acquaintance 3: There are these websites and YouTube videos that talk about how they are trying to take over the world by placing their symbols everywhere.  
Me: (FML) Oh really? You don't say? And there are websites and YouTube videos to prove it?
Acquaintance 3: Like US money, have you ever seen the back of a US dollar bill?
Me: You do know I am American right?
Acquaintance 3: Yes, but have you ever REALY looked at the back of a US dollar bill?
Me: Um?
Acquaintance 3: It is a road map of how the Americans are going to take over the world.
Me: (I really wonder what is wrong with people sometimes) Wait, you do know I am American, right?  Are you trying to imply I am involved in a conspiracy to take over the world?
Acquaintance 3: Well, these videos...
Me: Damn it is SO hot today! I just can't believe it!
Acquaintance 3: I know right!


At least I can't complain about my life being dull...

I don't have the vocabulary for this...

I would first like to say that, like all situations I am in where the conversation extends beyond how I am doing, where I am from, and what I am doing here I am lost.  I have mastered the skill of repeating the last words the person said as a question, and that for some reason seems to give people the impression I understand them.  This can be problematic especially when involved in what I call "high level conversion conversations."  


For me, religion is one aspect of my multifaceted identity.  If you don't like my religion, then I am sure you will find some other redeeming quality about me that you will find charming and therefore not totally write me off for my religion.  But for many of the people I have met in Morocco, their religion is not one aspect of their identity, but it IS their identity.  So we arrive at the classic impasse where I don't understand what the big deal is and the people around me don't understand what I don't understand about religion being a BIG DEAL.  


I am not sure if you remember this, but I am mskina bzeef (very sad).  I am very sad for multiple reasons, but one of them is that when I die I won't be able to spend eternity with all my new friends in paradise because I am not Muslim.  I try to remind my new friends that I do believe in G-d so hopefully when I die I will go somewhere similar to paradise, and they say yes of course but it will not be the SAME part of paradise as we will be in, you will be on the OTHER side of paradise.  So I am often involved in "high level conversion conversations" because we want to make sure I am in a nice neighborhood of paradise, and not that place by the train station with all that noise and people hanging around with questionable characters...


Scene: Drinking tea and eating massive amounts of cookies at a womens only party


Moroccan Woman: What religion are you?
Me: Um, what? (shoves cookies in mouth...I can't answer this questions if I am eating right?)
Moroccan Woman: What religion are you?
Me: Oh, well I am technically Jewish.
Moroccan Woman: Oh. (gives disappointing glance to everyone in the room) You know Islam is really great! Do you think Islam is good?
Me: Yes, it is. (wondering why people always ask me that, what do they think I am going to say, no Islam is bad, like I am some type of a**hole...wait, maybe they DO think I am an a**hole)
Moroccan Woman: ( to the other women in the room) She thinks Islam is great!
Everyone: (starting to talk really fast and loudly at me in a excited manner...this is all in Darija)
Me: (shit, I have no idea what is going on...but at least I don't think they think I am an a**hole)
Another Moroccan Woman: How do you pray?!
Me: Excuse me? (shove even more cookies in my mouth)
Another Moroccan Woman: How do you pray?
Me: (I don't even know how to answer this question...this genius idea of eating cookies to avoid answering questions ISN'T working) Um, I sit still, close my eyes, and say something or think something.
Yet Another Moroccan Woman: Oh, that is strange, we have a routine we do.
Me: I know.
Everyone: You know!  She knows how to pray like a Muslim! (saying more things in Darija I don't understand)
Me: (shit, shit, shit, I have no idea what is going on)
Everyone: (talking really really fast using words I don't know, I think they are asking me something, but I am not totally sure, perhaps they are asking me if there are rules I have to follow, but one of the women ends her sentence with walu: nothing)
Me: Walu? (nothing?)
Everyone: WALU! WALU! Oh no, this is bad, this is very very BAD!
Me: (SHIT! What did I just say!? fml..eat more cookies! eat more cookies!).
Moroccan Woman: We have five rules we have to follow.
Me: I know (finally! something I know), there is only one God and Mohammed is his Prophet, pray five times a day, charity, fasting for Ramadan, and pilgrimage to Mecca (said entirely in Darija, I can be pretty badass when I have to be).
Everyone: (almost shits themselves with excitement that I know the Five Pillars of Islam)
Moroccan Woman: I am going to take you to the mosque on Friday to pray!
Me: Um, I don't think I can go, I am not Muslim.
Moroccan Woman: Not a big deal! You will come with me, and then you will read the Koran, they have an English version, go online and get the English version, you are a teacher and smart like that.  Then you will fast during Ramadan and pray.  It will be great!
Me: (smiling while shoving even more cookies in my mouth)
Moroccan Woman: But you can't go to the mosque if you have your period, will you have your period next friday?
Me: Um.... (shove more cookies in mouth)
Moroccan Woman: You know, period, PERIOD (makes hand gesture that in a strange way signifies period). 
Me: Um, no.
Everyone: Oh this is so great! She is going to pray in the mosque and read the Koran!
Me: (I really need to stop pretending I understand what people are saying to me)
Moroccan Woman: Now we can find you a husband!
Me: (fml)

Fail.

In Peace Corps, as in life, you will fail, or you will feel like you have failed.  It is all part of the charm.  I mean really, how will you ever really appreciate what you have accomplished if you have never known what it is like to get kicked in the kidneys a few times?  Though lets be honest here, it is much easier to say than actually ENJOY the experience of failure for its character building charm.  Coming into Peace Corps I knew I was going to fail at a few things (or feel like I had failed a few things), fail at communication, fail at teaching english, and fail in my attempt to convince people I am not mskina or stupid.  But knowing and actually living those failures has been...charming, really really charming.  For example:


Center Employee:  It is HOT today!
Me: Yeah, I know!
Center Employee: Why are you here?
Me: I have English class...
Center Employee: But no one is here.  It is just so hot, shame you came all the way here in this heat for no one to show up.
Me: I know (fail)


Me: Nakhla Juj (Palmtree 2, the neighborhood where I live)
Cabbie: waxxa, fin f Nakhla Juj (ok, where in Nakhla 2) 
Me: qrib hammam u j-jam3 (near the hammam and mosque)
Cabbie: Fin? (where)
Me: qrib hammam u j-jam3
Cabbie: Fin?
Me: qrib hammam u j-jam3
Cabbie: Fin?
Me: qrib hammam u j-am3
Cabbie: Fin!?
Me: QRIB HAMMAM U J-JAM3
Cabbie: Fin!?
Me: (gets out and walks...fail)


Woman at aerobics class: Hahaha, it is funny that you teach aerobics but you are fat like us! (grabs stomach fat and squeezes it and jiggles it a few times while telling all the other women to look)
All the women in aerobics class: hahahahahahahahahah
Me: It is not normally this big, I just ate a lot of couscous today
All the women in aerobics class: hahahahahahahah, you have so much stomach fat!
Me: (roll eyes...fail)


Me: (in Darija) I would like to hang my English schedule up around town, is that ok with you?
Director: What?
Me: (in Darija) I would like to hang my English schedule up around town, is that ok with you?
Director: (blank stare) What?
Me: (in Darija) I have no students, so I need to market my class a little to get people to come.
Director: What?
Me: Never mind
Director: It is hot today
Me: Yes it is (fail)


Oh, the dialogues can go on and on and on and on...but I am sure you are getting the picture of what my life has been like so far.  And while I have had many accomplishments (at least for Peace Corps standards) a day does not go by where I don't feel like I have failed in one small way or the other.  But I keep reminding myself that it could always be worse, at least I am "failing" in a place like Morocco, where the food is AMAZING and the weather is like Florida.  So actually, maybe I am winning :)

I am mskina bzeef

I am mskina (sad) bzeef (really).  I don't know if you knew this, but I am.  I am the mskinaest person that people here in Morocco have met.  I am so mskina, that people constantly have to remind me in case I have forgotten.  I am introduced as Lucia, the mskina American.  I try to say that no I am not sad, I really love being in Morocco and I am happy, but I obviously have no idea what I am talking about so people ignore my efforts to state otherwise.  


I am mskina because:


1. I live by myself (actually I live on top of an amazing family that feeds me everyday and who I watch Turkish soap operas with, but that doesn't seem to matter)
2. My family is in America and I can't talk to them because it is sooo expensive (not true, there is something called email, which turns out is free)
3. I am not married, YET, but someone knows of a very nice man who wants to go to America (YES! JACKPOT!)
4. I don't speak the language (well I DO speak the language, people just don't understand what I say, they keep expecting the white girl to speak French, and when she doesn't they are too confused to re-group and try to understand what I am saying)
5. I work and can't sit home all day and watch TV (it doesn't matter if I don't find the idea of watching TV all day fun)
6. I am not married (did I already say that?)
7. I can't cook tajines or couscous or bake bread (I can cook other things, but REAL women can cook tajines and couscous and bake bread, so, I am screwed on this one until I learn how to be a real woman)
8. Since I am not Moroccan, people charge me triple of what I should really pay so I am constantly getting taken advantage of (which isn't actually true, but that doesn't seem to matter either)
9. I don't have air-conditioning (ok, I will give them that one)
10. I have NO friends, how can I, I don't speak the language (which yet again isn't true, I have friends, who also speak English)


So there you have it, the reason why I am mskina bzeef.  Like I said, it doesn't matter if the reasons why I am mskina are true or false.  People find the idea that I am American AND mskina charming, story of my life...   

The American at the Moroccan Wedding

Weddings in Morocco are INSANE.  I danced until 4 in the morning, 4 IN THE MORNING!  And there was NO liquor, yeah I know right?  There was a tent set up in front of the bride's family's house and it was PACKED with invitees and I think people who just came off the street who happened to be wearing kaftans?  The bride changed 5 times, first a green outfit, then a white and brown outfit, then an orange outfit, then a blue and silver outfit, and THEN a white outfit.  Each outfit was more extravagant than the next with different tiaras, jewels, and weave to match.  In the time she changed she even re-did her makeup to match the outfit! CRAZY!  The wedding consisted of us eating, dancing, and watching the bride and groom be prodded by the bossy wedding planners and photographer to make sure they got the PERFECT photo, hopefully out of the million they took they will find one they like. 


My very nice landlady (who calls herself my Moroccan mother) was nice enough to lend me a Kaftan, which is a long sleeved dress with a belt.  See below:  

And then this is what happens when an American goes to a wedding in Morocco dressed like a Moroccan:


1.  Arrive.  
Everyone stops and stares at you.  They are all very confused, what is this American girl doing wearing a kaftan?  Where is she from?  Why is she trying to speak to me in Darija?  


2. Answer the same questions over and over again.  
Partygoer: Are you married?
Me: No (here we go again...)
Partygoer: How old are you?
Me: 27
Partygoer: WHAT!  You know the bride is 17, and she is getting married, so why are you not married?
Me: (in English) Because I am an old hag
Partygoer: What? I don't understand?
Me: Never mind


3. Eat.
You will be served TWO dishes.  A chicken dish and then a beef dish with prunes.  Do not listen to the other women at the table to "eat eat eat" the first dish, because then you will not be able to eat the second dish, and then everyone will ask you if you are trying to lose weight so you can find a husband.  And you will say "yes, that is exactly why I am not eating, because I am a fatty and need to find a husband". 


4. Take an awkward picture with the bride and groom.
Remember, just like in America, the wedding is not for the bride and groom, it is for the guests.  The bride and groom will spend the entire wedding sitting on a throne like couch while the wedding photographer and planners put them in different poses for pictures they can appreciate later.  They don't get up, except to change outfits, they don't talk to other guests, and they don't dance until the very end.  Oh, they also don't really smile.  The wedding planners are SCARY and the bride and groom are too concerned about not pissing the planners off any more for not making the correct pose for the camera.  One of the few interactions the bride and groom have with the guests is when you can go up to the bride (as everyone stares at you, because they all want to know what the American is going to do next), say thank you so much you look beautiful, and then take an picture awkwardly standing next to the bride and groom you have NEVER met before.  


5. DANCE.
You are expected to dance.  People want to see if the American, who can dress like a Moroccan, can dance like a Moroccan.  So you dance, you dance your Moroccan slippers off.  Follow what the kids are doing, they are CRAZY good dancers.  Plus people will think you are such a good English teacher because look how good you are with the kids!    Even if you are tired or feel like a complete fool, keep dancing.  Because let me tell you, the next day when you see people on the street they will all comment on how AMAZING you are because you can dance.  So dance monkey, dance.

Dance Monkey, DANCE!

I dance.  Every single day in the Peace Corps I dance like a monkey, and people LOVE it.  You HAVE to dance in the Peace Corps, at least Peace Corps Morocco, because really, what else are you going to do?  Yes I teach English and aerobics, but increasingly I am finding that Peace Corps Morocco is more of a diplomatic mission to get people to see just how nice Americans are.  So I dance, dance like a crazy monkey, and people eat it up and love me for it and then they feed me.


Here is a perfect example:


Scene: Walking in my town to English class, go to a store for a coke.


Me: A'salam wa'alekum! Kif dary? (Hello, how are you?)
Store owner: (look of utter shock on face)
Me: Labas?! Kulshi bixir?! (good? is everything good?)
Store owner: You speak arabic?
Me: Iyeah! Kan tkllm shwiya arabia, shiway bzeef! hahahahahah (yes! I speak a little arabic, very little)
Store owner: You are amazing! Hey (to the store owners next to him and people in store) this white girl speaks arabic!
Other People: No way! Wow! Where do you live?! Why are you here!? Are you married to a Moroccan?! Do you want to get married to a Moroccan? Why aren't you married to a Moroccan? We will find you a husband don't worry. Do you like tajine and couscous!? Can you cook tajine and couscous?! Wait, why are you here? Don't you miss your family?! Oh, she misses her family, she is just so sad.  Are you sad? But isn't Morocco beautiful?! Do you think Morocco is beautiful!? How is the weather?! Do you like the weather?! Which is better, Morocco or America? You can say Morocco, it is ok, we won't tell your family back home! Wait, so when you say you live here, you mean you actually live here! Why? Isn't Morocco great! Don't you love the food!? Which soccer team do you like better, Barcelona or Madrid?..... 
Me: (dancing like a monkey)
People: (eating it up) You need to come to my house for couscous!
Me: Done!