عيد مبارك! (Eid Mubarek!)

Eid Mubarek Said! 

This is the equivalent of Thanksgiving in a way.

Okay, so I stuck around for Eid Kiber (The Big Eid) this weekend, which is probably one of the biggest religious days for Muslims. In Morocco, for Eid you sacrifice a ram for your family. The religious significance refers to when Abraham sacrifices his son, Ishmael for God. (Yes, this is in the Qur’an as well.) Unfortunately, I am not well versed in the whole religious background, but this is what it is symbolized in sacrificing the Ram. The ram is killed humanely, with two quick slashes movements, and a very sharp knife, to slit the throat and main artery. Yes, this sounds gruesome, but the ram is rewarded for its sacrifice and goes immediately to heaven. The sacrifice must be performed by a pious man, to be sure the ram does not suffer.

After the sacrifice, the head is removed and it is hung upside down to finish, well, draining. The process of skinning begins now. Usually, the slit a couple holes in the ankles and blow into them to inflate the skin. This apparently makes it easier to remove the skin. Very cleanly and efficiently, the skin is removed and thrown away. The next part is when the begin removing the insides. (They let no part of this ram go to waste. Which is good because you wouldn’t want to sacrifice an animal and then let it go to waste. It is serving a complete purpose.) They remove EVERYTHING, and then proceed to pass the organs to someone to clean and start preparing. (Organ BBQ is usually the lunch you have that first day.) Once everything is removed, the remaining part of the ram is left hanging for the day, and then the remaining meat is removed after. The meat is used in a variety of ways: lots of BBQ, in couscous, soup, etc. You then feast on it for three days.

Okay, so my personal experience with the holiday. First I’d like to point out how proud I am of myself for being able to handle watching, not one, but TWO sacrifices. I was nervous, not going to lie. Animal sacrifices are not something you see in America, but I was determined to watch this. It’s important to their culture, and religion. I’d like to point out that my host family was THRILLED when I told them I’d be around this weekend. That just confirmed that I would have to be brave and watch. This is clearly something they wanted to share with me.

The morning comes, they’re all excited and the butchers arrive. Ram number one is removed from its tie and brought to the middle of the terrace. I’m bracing myself, really unsure as to how I’m going to handle this. I just keep reminding myself of its religious and cultural significance; also that the ram doesn’t suffer and goes straight to ram heaven. In two fell slices, the neck is slit. Slightly appalled at the amount of blood, I step further back. (I was already a fairly good distance away.) Then, in one final flail, the ram moves….thus sending a rather large spray of blood…right at me and my one of my host cousins. Imen and I were both officially covered in blood. It was on my face, neck, arms, and clothes. She screams, and I take a deep breath. This was a bit much. My family of course, thought it was hysterical. Thanks guy. Refusing to be deterred, I quickly wash my face and head back up. (Partially because I knew if I stopped to think about it too much I’d probably have a hard time convincing myself to watch the rest.) I think my family was thoroughly impressed that I didn’t make nearly as much noise as Imen, because she should be used to this.  The skinning didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. However, when they started unwinding the intestine, I started to question how much longer I’d stay. After a mental argument, I decided to stay for the whole thing, and simply not watch it again when the second ram was sacrificed. (I mean, essentially, they’re going to look the same. So no need to completely watch the second one as well.) Host grandmother started dissecting a cutting up the various insides (Including the heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, stomach and stomach lining. Oh, the testicles are also a delicacy.) We then went inside to watch the King sacrifice two rams as well. Badr, host cousin who I was introduced to finally (he lives upstairs from us) explained that this is normal for them. It’s a great thing. (Yes, he speaks English pretty well, WHY WAS I NOT INTRODUCED SOONER. Would have made communication a bit easier at times…) I politely explained that yes, I understand it’s normal for them, but not for us in America. Also that I’m glad I was able to participate in something to important to them. He appreciated this answer.

Ram number two comes out, my host dad was sacrificing this one. So after a couple picture of him and that ram, I excused myself, not feeling the need to witness a second dismembering.

                Later, I started a new mental mantra: “Don’t think about it.” I was served various organs on a kabob. I think it was liver. Okay, managed to handle that (it wasn’t bad actually.) Another point for me! That night for dinner, we had couscous…with a strange jiggley substance on top. Flavor? Fabulous.  Texture? Less so. But still, without thinking about it, I managed to eat some.  (I’m determined to at least try everything they put in front of me.)  Then yesterday, for lunch, I couldn’t handle it. Whatever it was, is tasted too strong for me.  However, not wanting to insult host grandmother, I complimented her cooking and discretely pretended to pick the food up with my bread (While really I was just eating the bread with a little bit of sauce on it.) Dinner was better, finally got to the actual meat of the ram. So we had kabobs and soup for dinner.  Today, still remains a mystery. Hopefully there will be no ram head in my meal…

                I am enjoying the family time though. Last night was spent playing card games, doing gymnastics and martial arts. (Apparently Badr is the champion for Rabat-Sale area in Muay Thai…) We had some good times and even though this holiday pushed me way far out of my comfort zone, I’m glad I was here for it.

WARNING: Following photo’s are graphic. But I’m serious.

The first ram:

Go to ram heaven my friend!

Anddddd, the heads gone. (I'm still praying it doesn't end up in my couscous today...)

 The skinning:

 There's the head...

 Is it just me or is it a little morbib that ram number two just watched it's friend die...

So obviously the first thing we had to do was take a family photo with ram number 2

No host dad, I don't want too look at the teeth of the head of the ram that was alive ten minutes ago...

Oh, that's my host cousin, Badr, sticking his foot in the skin...to try and finish dislodging it from the body. (bleck)

Success! Good bye skin.

Slicing him open...

Mmmm, that was my lunch. Just saying.

Stomach lining...

Don't really think there's much left in there...

Fun fact: That's the Gall Bladder, you keep this because apparently it helps to heal cuts...

Yerp, and there's that...

Host grandma was a champ at preparing those organs.

Host dad...should you really be doing that...

There are places like this on the street, where families can bring the head and feet to be burned.

Ram number 2, Host dad had the honors:

Okay, not sure you could pay me enough to inflate a dead animal

This is when I left, didn't need watch another round of dismemberment. Haytem (host brother) looks less then thrilled to be there too...

Went off a gut-feeling, ended up in Morocco. So glad I'm abroad :)

I could have gone to Europe. I could have gone, and traveled around the European countries and this would have been great. (Expensive, and I would not have been able to afford a second semester abroad, but it would have been great.)  I’m glad I didn’t though. I’m coming to realize more and more why I came here, why I chose to push myself out of my comfort zone so much.

Choosing Morocco and India to go abroad, was based on a gut feeling. The programs were A) interesting, B) the culture appealed to me and C) a gut feeling. I didn’t really think about it beyond that, I just had a feeling that these were places I had to go.

Has it been difficult? Yes.

Do I stand out? Yes.

Will I ever be confused with a Moroccan? No.

Yes, I am alienated and yes I stand out every time I walk outside. But that moment, when I mention to a waiter, “Ana taleba fee CCCL. Ana adros Arabia. Shweeya Arabia.” (I am a student at the CCCl and I study Arabic. I know little Arabic) they light up. They get so excited and immediately start teaching me more Arabic. They ask me how I like it here, why I came, etc.

I may not be Moroccan, but they damn well appreciate me as the American student coming their country to learn about them and their language. Not a tourist, not a reporter, but someone who chose to leave America (Which idealized and considered wealthy and cushy) and come to live among them with Moroccan families. They may not fully understand why I am here, (Which is okay, as I’m not entirely sure still.) but they appreciate it either way.

There are challenges; yes, there are many. Even as I have been sheltered in a lot of ways, there have still been a lot of things come up.

The main one being the harassment and adjusting to the role of women here.  I’m sure my experience would be different, and easier if I was a guy. I could stay out late, go to a bar; I wouldn’t receive cat calls in a variety of languages or anything along those lines. But, I am a women, so I can’t stay out much later than 10:30 before I should be escorted home, going to a bar would insinuate I’m a prostitute, and I do get called after. Most of the time, they’re harmless and it’s little things like “Hello, you’re beautiful.” Or they’ll sing a line from Katy Perry or Justin Beiber. (Clearly, they aren’t successful in wooing me.)

So, if you’re thinking about going abroad, to a place that’s not London, be prepared to adjust. But let me tell you, every adjustment is worth it.  I have been pushed in ways, I would never have been otherwise. I am learning a lot not only about the culture, migration and other academic topics, but about myself.  When you’re put in a situation where, initially you don’t know anyone, in my case I didn’t speak French or Arabic, in a country where you stand out, you learn a lot about yourself. There is no greater learning experience, in my opinion, then pushing yourself.

I am also taking great pride in the fact I am able to come to this country, and act as a source of first hand information to my friends and family at home.  When the protests started in response to the movie mocking the prophet, people were immediately worried about me because I was in a Muslim country.  I was able to say, No, there aren’t Anti-American feelings here, I am safe. People fear what they don’t understand. This is where Islamophobia comes from. People say, “Oh, it’s so extreme!” Sure, in some cases, but name one religion that doesn’t have extremists. The KKK? The Crusades? Inquisition? The list can go on and on.  You can’t use the extreme actions, or one extremist sect, to judge an entire religion or group of people.

Although, I have always tried to live by this, being here really confirmed this idea though. Besides the harmless cat-calls, (which are annoying and frustrating, but in the grand scheme of things harmless) the people here have been nothing but welcoming. I am stared at, but very rarely is it in any other way than a “Why are you here?” kind of way. Very rarely malicious. It is safe here. I am welcomed, taught Arabic, fed (A LOT), and spoiled as a guest. Although, this automatically puts me as an outsider and not “part of the family”, I have established myself in different ways; I help to clean up after dinner, I clean my room and make my bed. They have me watch the kids and they include me in every way they can.

So, as I first said. Yes, I could have gone to Europe. I could have lived in an apartment and traveled more freely. It would have been fabulous, I’m sure. But, I am glad I didn’t. This, is by far, the greatest learning experience, and life experience, I could have at this point.  I am telling you, that studying abroad will be a fabulous choice right now. Going abroad stretches you in ways you wouldn’t experience otherwise. It opens your eyes to many things.  I wound encourage everyone, to push themselves, leave their initial comfort zone, and go abroad.

I’m glad I listened to my gut feelings, because this is exactly what I needed.

Tangier and...AMSTERDAM! Can you say culture shock?

So in the past week, since my post about Chefchouen , I was in Tangier and Amsterdam.

I guess I should start at Tangier, we were only there for a short period of time, but it was enjoyable. Tangier is one of the northern most cities in Morocco. It borders the Strait of Gibraltar and Mediterranean Sea. Did I mention I could see the coast of Spain? People try to swim the strait all the time, because you can see the coast of Europe, clearly. It looks swimmable. Unfortunately however, lots of people don’t make the journey.

Oh hey, I'm on the continent of Africa, looking at Europe? Is anyone elses mind blow by that? Maybe it's just me...

We explored a bit, and went to the beach. We were followed by the local homeless guy (That was clearly missing a couple marbles) He really, really, REALLY wanted to talk to us, and wouldn’t go away. Twenty minutes later after a firm, “Safi” he wandered off to talk/ follow some other people.  He of course, came back and started talking to us again. Apparently this was common because two, rather large police officers on horses came over. The man saluted them, they saluted back and then they got off their horses and held his hand to lead him away. It was actually nice to see the gesture. They were laughing with him, joking around and just led him away from us and told him to leave us alone. It was nice to see after seeing the protests and hearing about all the police brutality.

Tangier:

 The beach :)

Oh wait, that's my foot in the Mediteran

We also went to a NGO that works with women. It gives them a safe place and helps them learn trades. They also created a co-op so they can sell their goods or cook in the restaurant.  It was a really interesting organization and I’m glad to see that so many local organizations are working to focus on making it so a woman can support herself if she remains unmarried or is divorced.

The next morning, we left for AMSTERDAM. Can I just express the culture shock in going from Morocco to one of the most liberal cities in Europe? Possibly the world? Night one, Monday: Venturing to find dinner after a long ass day of travel. Close to midnight…in Amsterdam? Not a problem. We had Italian food with a class of wine.

I feel the need to point out some key differences here from Morocco.

1.       It was way after dark and I was able to walk around without being followed by 16 year old boys trying to prove they’re men.

2.       Restaurants were open that late!

3.       I was able to have a glass of wine, without being assumed as “easy.”

The next morning, it was rainy. And cold. Cold, what is this thing I call cold? I haven’t experienced anything under 70 degrees since last winter. And rain? No sun? Okay, not going to lie, kind of missed Morocco’s weather. Oh and SO MANY BIKES.

Side note:

                FOR PEOPLE WHO MAY TRAVEL TO AMSTERDAM: WATCH OUT FOR BIKES. THEY HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY.

No, but seriously. There are bikes everywhere, bike lanes and specific traffic lights for bikes. You have to make sure you’re walking on your side walk (which is usually slightly elevated compared to the bike lane) otherwise you will receive an angry ringing of bells from the bikes. Oh, they don’t peddle at a leisurely pace either, so stay out of the way if you value your life. Then after bike lanes, you cross the tram tracks. Watch out for those to, they come from all directions. Then, finally, you cross the regular traffic path. But taxis can drive on either the regular lane, or the tram lane. So, traffic, although more regulated than in Morocco, was definitely overwhelming.

               

Okay, moving on. We went to Amsterdam Museum and learned about some of the history of Amsterdam, which was nice. The first gay marriage in the world happened there. They also had a display focused on drugs. (They had samples of weed, heroin, cocaine, acid and shrooms. All of which were real except for the heroin.)  Soft drugs are tolerated. (I’ll get into that later.) Hard drugs are illegal. 

After the museum we adventured for a little and then were rushed off to the Moroccan neighborhood via tram. The sun had come out, what a beautiful day. Everyone was happy walking around near the pond and then we realized something.  Someone, was missing.

We had left someone behind. (Cue hand smacking forehead) How, did we forget Kelly.  No but seriously, two leaders, another adult and then the twelve other students, we all missed that she was gone until we were way away.  Luckily, Kelly is incredibly resourceful and was waiting for us at the organization we were going to next. However, we started doing headcounts from that point forward.

The Museum...we had a control freak for a tour guide, Only picture I could get -.-

 This fabulous pond, is where we realize, Kelly was missing...

      Wednesday we met with a couple more organization and had these delicious cookies (Stroopen waffles). The organization in the morning was really interesting and focused on its work with helping Moroccan immigrants gets settled. The afternoon was free, and my friend and I went to the Van Gogh Museum, which was FABULOUS.  We had a lecture that night focusing on language.

The walk to the Museum:

 

 IAMsterdam!

The carnival in front of the Queen's palace?

                Thursday we went to a school and met with two prominent parliament members, from two parties. Their political system is VERY different than in the US, so I can’t even explain how it totally works to be honest. But it was a great discussion because it focused on migrants and policies. Also, both politicians had different views on things, so it was nice to see two sides to the same story. We then met with some high school students, and had a group discussion which was really interesting. They all felt that migrants were welcomed, but did admit that Amsterdam was unique even in the Netherlands. That in more rural areas they could see how things could be different.

              

   Friday, we had the entire day free. After getting cold medication, I wandered around the city and did touristy things. I saw all the tulips for sale (Also the beginner marijuana kits). We went on a boat tour that night of the canals, which are beautiful.  Actually, the entire city was beautiful.

Start your own weed plant?

The red light district!

One of the most famous live sex show houses in Amsterdam

                The evenings we had to ourselves. Needless to say, we enjoyed some of the nightlife each night. Things don’t even get started until midnight/1 am. So between four and five was when we would stroll into the hostel. After getting pancakes of course.  It was definitely a culture shock going from Morocco to Amsterdam. The “Coffee shops” were everywhere, space cakes were everywhere. Drinking age is 16, I think you have to be 18 to get into the bars and clubs. We wandered through the red light district where sex shows are common, as well as finding old homes with mostly naked girls in the windows. Prostitution is legal there; it’s very regulated to ensure the health and safety of girls (and men) in the business.

                Cue Saturday morning were we all looked like the walking dead. Off to the airport, flew for three hours, and then drove for another four. There was lots of sleeping. First night back in Morocco, I had bed bugs.

                Honestly though, as much as I enjoyed Amsterdam, it felt good, like coming home, to be back in Rabat. I’m very much looking forward to the rest of my time here.