Sarah's Wedding

Sarah (in purple), her mom Wendy, and other PCVs on the afternoon of the henna ceremony.

This weekend was my friend Sarah's wedding. Sarah is a Peace Corps Volunteer in a tiny village about 3.5 hours southeast of mine. She married a local man, the brother of one of the weavers she worked with. It was a 100% traditional Amazigh wedding, which was lots of fun, even if I didn't understand the reason behind the traditions. Her family and a few friends came in from the U.S. to help her celebrate. While they got a bit overwhelmed by the many strange sights, sounds, and smells, they did a great job participating in the festivities. With Sarah's family and friends in attendence, along with the 12 Peace Corps Volunteers that came, there was a lot more English spoken at this wedding than at most weddings I attended.

The first day of the wedding was the henna ceremony. Sarah was dressed in a sparkly white dress, then veiled with a dark blue cloth to cover her hair with a brightly woven mesh cloth to cover her face. Henna was mixed in a large plastic bowl, then slowly applied to her hands and feet with plastic syringes. Once the designs were drawn on, black tea was applied with a wet cotton ball to help darken the henna. Her hands and feet were then covered with strips of cotton and wrapped in plastic bags to make it dry more slowly so that it will stain the skin a darker color. The whole process took a long time, as even after the henna was applied Sarah had to sit quietly as to not smear it while it dried. 

The henna from the bright orange bowl was applied to Sarah's hands and feet. As you can imagine from the intricate designs, the process of applying the henna took several hours. 

We left at about 1:00 AM Friday night, with Sarah still sitting with her hands and feet wet with henna and wrapped in plastic. When we came the next day, Sarah was getting dressed in her full bridal finery. She had a fancy white dress with gold stamps on it, a bright gold belt, and fancy gold shoes. We all went into the salon once she was dressed, where the women sang and danced. Her hair was covered with many brightly colored silk scarves, then her face was veiled with the same mesh fabric. Finally, the women gave her a headdress of bright red. Sarah said the whole headdress was very heavy and very hot to wear. After she was veiled, her hands were wrapped with yellow wool yarn. From what I understand, the wool is symbolic of her being "bound" to her husband and is good luck for a long and happy life together. 

Sarah and Brahim (her new husband)

Sarah's hands were wrapped in yellow wool to symbolize her being "bound" with her husband.

The women veiled Sarah's hair with many colorful scarves, then made a headdress of bright red wrapped around with green wool. Sarah said it was very hot and pretty heavy.

After a dinner of tajine and couscous, we all went outside for the entertainment. All of the weddings I'd attended previously had had music, but none had hired a band like Sarah and Brahim. With so many people in attendance (probably about 200), the band set up outside so that everyone could see and hear the music. The family had spread read carpets around on the road and grass and people were sitting on most every available surface. The band played traditional Amazigh and Arabic music. Unfortunately, there wasn't much dancing, as it was considered "shameful" (perhaps since we were outside.) 

Overall, it was a lot of fun at Sarah's wedding. It was great to hang out with other PCVs and to meet Sarah's friends and family from back home. Sarah and Brahim will leave for America in November, when Sarah finishes her service in the Peace Corps. I hope everything works out for them and that they have a wonderful time making their new life in America.

Babyhood Blues...

Today my 3 year old neighbor, Ilias, was circumcised. The whole extended family gathered in the house for the ceremony (while I wasn't there for the actual circumcision, I saw a video later.) He was dressed in a fancy jellaba and a ceremonial hat. The doctor, I was happy to see, wore gloves for the procedure. He was laid down on a cloth while his father and uncles helped hold him down. After the circumcision, he was bandaged and put on a blanket on his mother's lap in the bedroom.

Poor Ilias was pretty unhappy with the world when I got to see him a few minutes later. His aunt, who speaks English very well and has gone out of her way to befriend me during her stay in the village for Ramadan, came to get me and invited me in to see Ilias. He sat crying on his mom's lap, although I think some of his tears were from anger (that they did this to him) rather than from the pain of the procedure. While normally he is a very happy kid, today he was definitely not. He didn't want anything to eat, didn't want to see anyone but his mom, and was very unhappy that the rest of the family was celebrating. He threw a fit every time his picture was taken, tried to hit his uncles when they came in to kiss him, and called everything and everyone "UriHli" (which translates roughly as bad, ugly, horrible, etc.)

Other than poor Ilias being unhappy, it was a fun day. Every once in awhile, I look around and really feel like I'm in Morocco and integrated into the community. Today was one of those days. Since Ilias didn't want company, I sat out in the courtyard with his many aunts, uncles, and cousins and clapped along as they sang traditional songs and celebrated the circumcision. They had drums, some clappers similar to castanets, and even brought out a piano.  Everyone was very happy, as a boy's circumcision is a fairly big deal with many traditions involved. According to my neighbor (who is wonderful about answering my many questions about life here), a boys circumcision is one of the tenets of Islam and is set out in the Koran.

Although I'm sure the family would have welcomed me staying all afternoon, I left after lunch. (We ate couscous crouched around a table they brought out to the courtyard.) While I enjoy hanging out with my neighbors, I sometimes still feel overwhelmed by the loud and boisterous music, the many people milling around (there were probably 30 in the tiny house) and the mixture of Tashelhit and Arabic being spoken. Still, it was a fun day. Tomorrow, I plan on taking Ilias some M&Ms, since he asks me for some almost every day. Hopefully, he's feeling a bit more like himself.

Happy Ramadan

Happy Ramadan!

This month is Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar. It was the month in which Muslims believe the Koran was revealed to the prophet Muhammed. During Ramadan, which is the ninth month in the Islamic calendar, all Muslims over the age of puberty must abstain from eating and drinking from sunrise to sunset. When its over 100 degrees outside, and you still have to harvest in the fields, work at your store, and take care of children, this can be quite a challenge. Similar to Lent for Christians, Ramadan is a time of reflection and prayer for Muslims. I've been told fasting allows them to understand the suffering of those less fortunate and be thankful for the things they have.

Luckily, in my village in the mountains it was rarely above 100 degrees (In Marrakech it was in the 130s). Still, fasting makes most everyone tired and the village has slowed down quite a bit. The elementary and middle schools were closed, as were the weaving and carpentry schools and the cooperative I work with. Most stores are open shorter hours, if at all. With everything being closed, Ramadan gave me lots of extra free time which was very nice at the beginning of the month. I got to watch all the movies I wanted and read as many books as I could. While this was great the first few weeks, now that we've reached the end of Ramadan, I am VERY ready for things to open up again.

One of the best parts of Ramadan is families spending time with one another. Husbands that work away from the village take time off work to spend the month with their wives and children. Many relatives from big cities and abroad come back to the village to celebrate Ramadan with their relatives. (My neighbors have about 10 extra relatives from Ouarzazate and other cities that are living with them for Ramadan.) This means there are plenty of extra hands to help with chores when you are feeling tired from fasting and many more people around to break the fast with at sunset.

Breaking the fast during Ramadan is a very ritualized and family oriented affair. The fast is broken when the evening call to prayer is heard throughout the village. Families gather around the table in their salons to break the fast. Food is set out a few minutes before the expected call to prayer so eating can commence as soon as the call is heard over the loudspeakers. Once the call to prayer is heard, each family member is given a date. (During the first Ramadan, Muhammad broke his fast with a date.) Next, a delicious cookie called shebekia is served (fried dough soaked in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds.) Families then drink fresh juice and eat a soup called harira made with chickpeas, vegetables and meat (usually mutton.)

Families may also serve cake, more cookies, and sandwiches made with tomato and meat. (Some of these may be traditions of my village alone and not Morocco as a whole.) Dinner is served a few hours later and is more standard fair (tajine or pasta.) After sleeping for a few hours, the family wakes up at around 4:00AM to have breakfast before sleeping late. If someone is sick, elderly, traveling, pregnant, or menstruating, they are not required to fast, although anyone capable must make up the fast at a later date. (Young children are exempt from fasting as well).

Ramadan ends when the head imams sight the new moon. Families in Morocco celebrate with a holiday called l3id Imzin (or the small holiday in Tashelhit (the Berber dialect spoken in my village.)) I have been told by my neighbors that tomorrow is l3id, so everyone is spending the day preparing cookies to serve to visitors tomorrow. Villagers will spend the day visiting each other, wishing each other 'Happy Holiday' and eating lots of cookies. It should be a fun day.