A Moroccan Wedding

A few weeks ago on a Saturday night, Tiffany, Alaina, and I attempted to go see Harry Potter at the French movie theater. When we got there, we discovered that the posted times were not correct and that we were over an hour late. We returned to the apartment, resigned to spending the night in. Tiffany and I were just surfing the internet when, an hour later, we got a phone call. "you have been invited to a Moroccan wedding, you have 10 minutes to get ready, tell your roommates." We stared at each other for about a second and then it was like a gun when off at the beginning of a race; we were running around, deciding what to wear, putting on make up and getting dressed. I ran into Alaina's room and informed her of the evening's event. She was engrossed in a Jane Austen novel and wasn't sure if she wanted to come. All I had to say was this may never happen again in her lifetime and she was off the bed and ready to go.

Alaina and I are wearing Djellabas, Tiffany hadn't bought one yet so she's in an American dress.

We met up with the group outside our apartment less than 10 minutes later. We were a site to see; around 15 white people all dressed up in our interpretations of Moroccan traditional clothing walking down the street in one big group. We were all very excited and we all had no idea what was going to happen.

Bride and Groom

The marriage was in the host family of two of our group members. They had been preparing for it pretty much since we arrived. Both of them actually went and bought takshitas, the formal caftan worn to celebrations. They are absolutely beautiful. Somewhere along the line, probably the day of, the host parents decided that the whole group could attend. So we all wore the nicest things we had in Morocco, although we didn't come close to the finery of these Moroccan women, for only having 10 minutes to get ready we looked pretty good.

Hannah, in her takshita

A Moroccan wedding lasts all day and is usually held in a rented riad. The bride has any where from 4 to 7 outfits changes, this bride only had 4. The entire time the bride and groom sit above the guests on a white throne. The entire family and all their friends sit around tables in the main courtyard of the riad. We missed part when the couple was actually proclaimed to be married, but I was told that they left the throne, went to a corner table, and quietly signed the paper work. Then an announcement was made to the whole room that they were married. We got there at about 10pm and dinner had not yet been served. There is normally 3 to 5 courses so you learn quickly to not eat everything put in front of you.

Bride in outfit 4, we missed 1 and 2

 The whole event lasted until about 3:30am. My roommates and I left around 2am. There was live musics, some of the women danced, everyone talked and ate, and the happy couple looked on from their thrown. In my opinion, the outfits and the venue might be different, but in the grand scheme of things it was very similar to a wedding anywhere else in the world.

The throne

Jazz singer

The big differences between a typical American wedding and a Moroccan wedding are the outfit changes, alcohol(there is none in an Islamic wedding) and the tea man.

I still do not have an explanation for this man. Whenever anyone asked the only response they got was "Oh, that's the tea man." He was dressed similarly to a traditional St. Nickolaus and he sat on this big plush red cushion in the corner in front of a tea set. He was smiling the entire time and in the 4 hours that I was there, he did not get up from his seat. This might just be one of the many mysteries of Morocco that I cannot figure out.

These two were very entertaining

They ran around the whole time. Her caftan was just a little too big so she tripped on it quite a bit

This little bungalow with some strange new friends

I have met many people since coming to Meknes and I will never forget them. Many of the fantastic people I have met are the other ISA students, there were 22 of us and I have fond memories of everyone. There are also the people who are from here who have become almost my support system. The little things they do, that I can depend on and they really brighten my day. I don't even know all their names.

Fatima is one the most amazing cooks I have ever met, and I come from a family of pretty amazing cooks. She comes to our apartment everyday, cooks our lunch, which is usually on the table and waiting for us when we get back from class. She also leaves us something small to heat up for dinner. She orders all our groceries and once a week she cleans up the apartment. She is super nice and friendly. I love coming home at lunch and having our language limited conversation everyday.

 Iman is one of the ISA Morocco directors. She is from Meknes and is a great help when we have questions about where to go or who to talk to. She is also a very good listener. She has this amazing quality, all she has to do is walk in the room and I feel comforted. She is like the mother of the group, she cares about us, she checks up on us, and genuinely wants to know how we are doing. I love getting a hug from Iman.

I call him "my Coca Cola guy." He runs this little news stand and at least once a week, I buy a coke from him. At some point, he started saving them for me in his special fridge behind the counter. Our conversations generally go like this:

Coca Cola guy: Coka? (derija for Coca Cola)
Me: Nam, shukran! (yes, thank you!)
Coca Cola guy: ala wajib (short form of no thanks necessary)
me: b'slama! (see you later!)

The simple fact that he already knows what I want when I walk up and has one waiting for me in the fridge makes me happy beyond belief.

Professor Bouzekri is one of the most powerful and inspiring women I have ever met. She is currently fighting in the beginning of Morocco's women's lib movement. She teaches my Three Religions, Three Peoples class about Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. She helped organized the women's poetry slam( Moroccan Feminist Poetry Slam) and the Amerocco event that I recently stage-managed. I would love to have the opportunity to get to know her on a more personal level. I want to know her life story, how she became this woman in a society that represses anything that doesn't conform.

Professor Zakaryae Arsalane is the best language instructor I have ever had and I have taken alot of language classes. He is an expert in applied linguistics, modern standard Arabic, French, and Derija( Moroccan dialect). He wrote a dictionary in Arabic for Arab medicine students who wish to learn medicine in Arabic instead of French of English. He recently visited the United States to speak at three different universities about his method of teaching Arabic. Two of them offered him jobs after hearing him speak. Qualifications aside, he is also very fatherly and protective of us. He really cares about how much we are learning and answers any question in complete detail until we fully understand. We all leave class with our heads swimming with Arabic knowledge. He's had us to his house for dinner and he frequently drives us home at lunch time. He's gotten to know all of us by asking us about our families, what do our parents do for a living, how many siblings do you have, where in the US do you live.

Zineb is on the left in the light pink shirt, Maroua is on the far right in all black

Along with Zakaryae, I have to talk about Maroua and Zineb. Maroua is Zakaryae's daughter and she is hilarious. She is maybe 13 years old and I met her when Zakaryae had us over to his house for dinner along with her best friend Zineb. They have both, since, friended me on Facebook and we chat frequently. Maroua found out that I had studied abroad in Germany in highschool and is now determined to visit me in the United States (hint hint Mom and Dad). She wants to go to highschool for a semester or a year, but so far we have been unsuccessful in finding an organization that offers programs to Moroccan students so she may just come for a summer vacation.

This is Mohammed, the guy who runs the teacher's cafe on campus. He chats with us all in Derija, French, or Arabic, making sure that we don't resort to English when we order coffee, orange juice, or snacks. He also generally knows what we each want when we walk in. He is also the reason behind my recent hard boiled egg addiction. He makes them every morning and they only cost one dirham each. One day, he made Meredith and I this sandwich that consisted of hard boiled eggs, laughing cow cheese, salt and cumin. It was amazing and I have repeated it at home several times now.

Professor Hamid is our adorable Derija Professor. He can remember exact days and dates when he met people over thirty years ago. He keeps every letter that has ever been sent to him. His wife is Russian, he met her when he was in college studying in the USSR. He has three sons, one of which is currently living in Germany. He recently had us over to his apartment for dinner and his wife made us a fantastic Russian/Moroccan meal. Hamid is also a very big germaphobe. Way back when we first got here, he warned me about drinking the fresh squeezed orange juice because it may not be clean. He also asked us not to sit on the ground because people often spit on the ground. He is constantly giving us compliments and telling us how much we mean to him. I am determined to write him a letter as soon as I get home.

This is our waiter at the Marilyn Cafe. Tiffany and I would go here, whenever our internet was down, to use the free wifi. After we came in every night for three nights, he knew us and what we each ordered. After about two weeks we had a friendly little routine. We don't go in as often now that we have bought wifi sticks, but when we do, he is still happy to see us.

Alaina Schultz is one of my three housemate. She lives on an island in Washington. She has this amazing head of long blond hair and a huge smile. She is fully entertained by nature and animals, especially owls. She writes a fantastically touching blog (Alaina's Blog). We have had a great many wonderful conversations and I look forward to keeping in touch with her. We have already established that we will be invited to each others' weddings in the distant future and gone further to decide what we each will be wearing.

Tiffany is my roommate whom you have all already heard a lot about(check out her blog too! Tiffany's Blog). We were friends almost instantly way back in Granada when we first arrived. She is from a farm in South Dakota, one of the few Midwesterners on the trip. From our long list of conversations, it is clear that we have had very similar upbringings(midwestern values don't ya know) and that our parents would get along smashingly well. She has two brothers, who both want her to bring them monkeys and camels home. We went to Ireland together for Spring break and it was a hilarious time. This summer she has an internship in DC and I hope to see her on her way home to South Dakota at the end. Both Alaina and Tiffany have made this trip. I do not think it would have been the same without them and I do not think I would have enjoyed it as much.

Our Lady of the Olives

Entrance to the church compound

Our Lady of the Olives is the one and only Catholic church in Meknes. It was built back during the time of the French occupation, but the French left before construction was finished.

Entrance to the main church

The congregation is mostly sub-Saharan African students who are also studying at the university in Meknes. There are a few French families as well, but not many. Mass is entirely in French, although sometimes they have the readings printed out in English for us. There is one priest, who is actually from Italy, that knows English. We talked a little bit after mass. The other priests are African and French.

the main church

The small chapel, the flags represent all the countries that the students are from

The Tabernacle in the chapel

  I have gone to mass a couple times now and for the most part, there is about 60 people attending, 25-30 of which are the choir. The choir is the most amazing church choir I have ever heard. It is made up of all sub-Saharan African students and the songs are a mixture of English, French, and African languages.

The Arabic script above the tabernacle used to read God is the place of love, but many years ago someone broke in and stole the word God (Allah) so now it just reads his place of love.

The main church is a little sparse in decorations because it was never completed. The one really beautiful piece of artwork they have is the Our Lady of the Olives statue that is above the alter. The story goes that it was carved by a Christian prisoner in an Arab king's dungeon. 

This depiction of the Virgin is the Mary standing on a dragon and giving birth to  the baby Jesus  from Revelations

 Although it is a Catholic church and a Catholic mass, the congregation is pretty mixed between Catholic and Protestant. There is not enough population of either to constitute a separate space so many Protestants attend the Catholic mass. There is also a separate Protestant service in another room in the compound. Even the combined services can be to small to justify being in the big church so they have a smaller chapel near the Priests' house. 

The priests' house. Originally the whole building was intended for their use, but because of money issues, they second floor and half of the first floor are being rented out to Moroccan families.