My Refuge

So, after a sad goodbye to my host family, who kept asking me to stay “just one more night,” or “just until spring” (apparently my host sisters told my host mother that my house is freezing, although of course it’s no colder than theirs!!!). I have finally moved into my own place. It’s on the other side of town, not that that’s very far, and of course I visit or at least see one of them nearly every day! Frankly, I love the host fam, and certainly could have managed living there if I had my own mattress (those ponges look comfortable, but they actually kill you slowly after sleeping on them for two months!). Nevertheless, it is nice finally to have my own space, where I can eat what and when I want, use the toilet without everyone knowing, bathe without feeling guilty for asking my already hard-working host mother to heat up a kettle of water, and just generally be myself without having to worry about being watched so closely!

My place is HUGE too – for those of you who saw any of my apartments in NYC or Cambridge, you’ll understand why I find this one to be a tad overwhelming. The salon alone is far larger than any of my NYC places, and rivals the overall square footage of my Cambridge apartment. Actually, what we would call the foyer in the US (basically unused space here) is bigger than any of my NYC apartments. My intention had been to buy as little furniture as possible, and although I insist on remaining minimalist (not like I am taking this stuff home in two years!), I have had to adjust a little bit. So about a week ago, my sitemate accompanied me to Rich and helped me do a little shopping for the basics: a real mattress (YUM!), three ponges, a stove, two plastic chairs (to go with a normal-sized table I hope to have made for my kitchen), two plastic woven carpets called agrtyls (common here and easy to clean – I did find something not too tacky), and various smaller items to supplement a few kitchen and cleaning basics I’ve been able to find in Assoul. I did also find a low-rider table (most common here) for my salon at the souk in Assoul. I still need to flesh out my kitchen supplies, but have what I need to eat for now. Forks are especially hard to find – my friend Najat loaned me one. All my clothes and personal items are in a pile in the corner of my salon at the moment, so I still need to find a way to organize my stuff (big place, but no storage area!). I also have to cover my ponges with something, as they are currently giving me a headache (see photo!).

Here’s my kitchen. That big green bottle by the sink is there because I only have water between 5-6pm, so I have to come home then in order to fill up buckets, bottles, etc. Annoying, but I’ll get used to it! Note too the giant buta gas bottle under the counter. Now you can see why I am scared!! I also have two smaller butas – one that I use for light when there is no electricity, and one that is attached to a little camp heater. Nothing like having multiple gas flames going in your house at any given moment!

Of course I still have a Turkish toilet (and no proper shower, although maybe I'll rig something up), but more on that later...

But my favorite part (besides the mattress) is the big private roof! I can bask in the sun, dry clothes, and generally enjoy the view of the nearby mountains, or Assoul’s main (only) street, depending on my mood. I know that some of my friends on the other side of the mountains to the south, in the desert proper, have to sleep on their roofs during the summer, but I am hoping it won’t get quite that hot here at night. (Hard to imagine now – it’s still quite cold!)


This week I also attended a local celebration of tizlafin. The lunar new year was January 31 (I believe the year 1427 on the Islamic calendar, but don’t quote me on that). Apparently here, on the ninth night following the new year, there is a big celebration for all the BOYS born during the year. As per usual, the women cook all day, giant plates of couscous with eggs (and meat, of course), and at 5pm, men of the house carry these plates on their heads to a central area where they all eat (very quickly) together while a few of the local women and children watch. Of course the women make this into a small festivity of their own, and in the houses where couscous is being prepared, other female neighbors and family members drop in throughout the afternoon to eat couscous, drink tea, and visit. I went over to the house of my host mother’s family early in the day, where I ate a tajine of olives and French fries (yes), then couscous (and meat), and then made myself busy peeling the largest pile of boiled eggs I’ve ever seen, just so I could miss at least a few rounds of eating. Of course I often get angry at the second class status of women here, but then I realize that they have their own little interesting world, and it’s kind of cool, as an outsider, having access to that as well… Now all I have to do is convince them that we American women are not crazy simply because we don't spend hours every morning pounding out bread to bake! (Of course I will admit that, relatively speaking, we are spoiled for not having to do that every day!)