... In the middle of a tutoring session a few weeks ago (where I still struggle to learn the difference between the questions "Where are you going to," and "Where are you coming from?" -- those prepositions being among the many radical differences between the language of Assoul and the one I learned during training!), my host father asked me, "What do you understand when I say 'iġf nu-assgwas'?" In one of my more mentally functional moments, I told him I thought he was saying "head of the year." "Right," he said, "iġf nu-assgwas ujdid." New Years. As if I need any strange idiomatic expressions! I get confused enough that sometimes reality messes with my brain even beyond my internal capacity for language dysfunction -- last week, relying on a dash of French and gestures to bolster my comprehension of her Tamazight, I am fairly certain that a woman asked me what medicine I used for my hair in America, because hers is falling out...!
Anyway, Happy New Years to everyone! I'll spare you the indiscretion of my detailed list of resolutions, but you can guess, no doubt, that they include further enhancement of my communication skills (one of my new Moroccan friends actually thinks I am speaking English when I try to use my Tamazight with her), and once and for all purging the excess oil, fat, and sugar that has been surging through my body ever since Ramadan "fasting." My New Years Eve was an uneventful one with the family (my only ride out of town this morning left at 5:30am -- not much space for partying even if social norms would have allowed!). It was our first night with electricity in nearly two weeks, but they promptly shut off all the lights in the house so there would be enough power for the VCD (kind of like DVD, but different format, and unfortunately won't run on my computer without software upgrades) player. We first tried to watch some old Jackie Chan film in French, and then attempted Bollywood with Arabic subtitles after the first failed within minutes -- same result. Disappointed host siblings all around.
I have also discovered that "Père Noël" visits Morocco too (the big cities even have a little Christmas decor, although thankfully I've been spared that path to despairing homesickness!) ...just a week late. After numerous failed arguments (once I finally realized what exactly I was arguing about!), I was able to confirm officially that no one was going to believe that Père Noël visited me and my American friends and family on December 25, and not New Year's Eve. That said, my apologies (excuses?) for the lack of hard copy Christmas greetings to everyone at home -- my local sunflower seed/greeting card seller didn't have the goods to hook me up, surprisingly enough! But I did have a pleasant Christmas -- feasting twice over at a fellow volunteer's house elsewhere in the region (although given my cooking skills, I mainly stayed on decoration duty, even though the heavy lifting on that was also performed by one of my more artsy colleagues -- here's a picture of the tree pre-trim). My friend even surprised all of his guests with presents and (paper) stockings stuffed with candy, which of course I have already consumed so as to be prepared for the above-mentioned oil-fat-sugar resolution by the head of the year.
I did hear my sunflower seed guy blasting Céline Dion yesterday for the first time in several weeks. With one of the loitering gentlemen out front caterwauling "I'm your ladee... and you are my man..." So often I go down the street deflecting mundane but intrusive questions about where I am going, what am I doing, why did I only spend an hour at the hamman (nothing I do is private for long, although I've used that to turn into a one-woman physical fitness crusade for the village women -- even teaching yoga at the nedi now!), so it took all of my willpower to avoid bursting out laughing in the middle of the street! That was even better than the guy sitting next to me today at the cyber café singing "Barbie Girl" (also not a first). But my favorite pastime lately is tracking the number of little boys I've seen carrying backpacks that say "Rich Bitch." Wow, is my entertainment quotient low these days!
On a final note, one of my friends in the US recently asked me to explain the phrase "In sh'allah," which I know I've used a few times in this blog, so here's the answer I gave her: "In sh'allah" (or any number of spelling variations) means "God willing," and is apparently used by most Moroccans (generally speaking, a fatalistic culture) when referencing any future event, i.e. "I'll return from Morocco in two years, in sh'allah." It's like you don't want to challenge God by assuming anything you plan is actually going to happen. It is also a way people avoid making plans they don't want to make, i.e. someone says they want to go to the US with me, and I might answer "In sh'allah" if it's a situation where a more direct "Ha ha -- no way!" might not be appropriate. Figuring out exactly which meaning is in use (although the former is a safe bet) can be tricky when scheduling meetings, accepting dinner/tea invitations (likewise usually genuine, although -- as we often do in our own culture -- sometimes never followed up with specifics unless you go to someone's house on the spot!).
Anyway, until next time, in sh'allah.
No comments:
Post a Comment