Sorry habits and bleeding donkeys

12/9/2005 12:31 AM

Today was another lovely day. I woke up late. I’ve developed a “sorry” habit of reading, writing or staring into the darkness, lost in thought until the wee hours of the morning. For so long I’ve anticipated the chance for significant time to read and develop ideas without the associated guilt of needing to do some other type of productive work. These first few months here I am supposed to take it slow, allow my language to catch up with my ambition, and learn all aspects of the community and my association here, before taking on any projects. Lots of time and patience equals lots of reading and thinking. (Btw, most everyone I meet here keeps commenting on how well I already speak, not three months into my Moroccan experience!) I’m quite pleased.

I had not been able to shower for days… after the first shower here, my family said there was no more butagas to use for the hot water heater. It is scary how quickly I’ve accustomed myself to not showering for four days or so without noticing. This morning, however, I woke up and thought I must somehow bathe today, I simply cannot go on forever with a random steaming at the public bath hammam. I still could not stomach the idea of a cold shower on a morning when I was already shivering in my clothes. I marched to the kitchen, pulled out a pot, filled it with water and proceeded to light the gas stove. If other volunteers could bath with heated buckets of water, I could too. My dad came in, asked what I wanted, Gir bġit douche sxon! (I just want a hot shower!), I almost begged. He laughed, pulled out the big butagas can from the back of the aluminum oven, dragged it across the kitchen, connected it to the hot water heater tube, tightened the connector, flicked a switch, waxa! That’s all it took to get a hot shower? I laughed, and gleefully trotted to the bathroom, shampoo in hand. Ahhh.. the luxury of a hot shower.

Afterwards, I met Antoine at a café and we headed to the Thursday Souq (big, one-day-a-week outdoor market). I have never been to one before. Outside a herd of bored donkeys dumbly waited for owners to return. Next, a crushing mass of people waded through shepherds babysitting their goats for sale; each goat’s neck was tied to a happenstance rock. A stonewall surrounded the football-field-sized market area. One arched gateway was the only entrance for all foot traffic, jeeps, donkeys and scooters. We pressed through. I almost smashed against a donkey that was dripping blood from his mouth. A jeep tried to pass while dozens and dozens of turbaned men squeezed between the wall and jeep bumper. Finally it roared through, almost crushing one man against the wall who couldn’t resist the opportunity to squeeze past at the last second. He jumped through, with a guilty-stupid smile and a surge pressed forward as the jeep moved on. Inside, all across the ground, haggard Berber women and turbaned men laid out tarps and piled turnips, carrots, bright oranges, and numerous other vegetables and baskets of spices. Little girls in headscarves with faded, lively designs followed us about, staring at my purse. We reached the back of the souq to a cement-block encompassed, tarp-covered indoor market area. It reeked of fish. I turned in surprise to find a shark’s head staring at me. I was in the middle of the desert and there lay rows of tuna, eels, even a manta ray. Who in their right mind bought these fruits of the sea here?

We left and grabbed a taxi headed down the road a few miles to Tanm~ where Geoffe, another Peace Corps volunteer worked. His town was composed of numerous Kasbahs, those great Adobe cities of desert nomads, seen rising from the desert floor in old movies about Arabian nights. We spent the afternoon chatting on a veranda overlooking a luscious date palmary and, as always, a gorgeous mountain backdrop. We wandered through the palm trees on irrigation channel paths toward the river, a bridge, and the main road. As the afternoon sun faded among palm branches and shimmered across the rushing water, we bid Geoff goodbye and headed back into Agdz town center.