Wow! I can't believe it has been a month since my last post! And if I remember, that one wasn't much of a post. So now we're faced with a dilemma...too much to write in one post so where do I begin? I think I'll start with whats going on now, and catch you up later with moving in and the hike.
First of all, I have a Flickr account now so you can view all of my pictures from the last few weeks. Just search my name, you shouldn't have any problems. I'm learning how to organize so bear with me. There also seems to be a limit to the number of pictures I download in a month. In time I hope to get all of my pictures from the past 6 months. Can you believe its been 6 months?!
So whats happening now? Well on the 2nd the Muslim Holy month of Ramadan began. The Muslim calendar is based on the moon and causes Ramadan to be slightly earlier each year (maybe a week), and it will be just short of a calendar month. Through the entire month the faithful fast from sun-up to sun-down(4:30a-7p). NOTHING enters the mouth, including water, cigarettes, gum, ect.
So I was faced with two questions: 1)Do I fast? and 2)If I don't, do I lie and say that I am. From what I have heard, some volunteers fast, and many lie. The first question was easy. No, I will not fast. I could not go all day without water, and if you're going to cheat whats the point? But the second question proved more difficult. If I admit to not fasting could it hurt my reputation and damage my credibility? Now, as some of you may know, when it comes down to it...I'm a terrible lair. I also have the advantage of being the 3rd volunteer in my village. People in general, and my host family in particular, are very understanding of me. So I figured, why not just be honest and if they ask, tell the truth? Out of respect I decided to not eat or drink in public but otherwise I will continue as normal.
After sundown on the 2nd all the children in the village walked with men as they played drums and sang. The following evening, as I was checking my chocolate cake in the oven, my host dad invited me to break fast with the family. Here's a rough translation of the conversation: Leila (thats me) do you want to break fast with us? Now? But I'm making a cake. That's nice, come on. Now? But I'm making a cake. Yes now, hurry. Ok... I'll be right there. As I unplugged my oven and hoped the cake would not be ruined, I saw my dinner plans fade away. A nice omelet with onion, tomato, and green pepper with some potatoes on the side. All topped off by some real heinz ketchup purchased at the super market 2 hours away. But it would have to wait for another day.
At my host familys house I was greeted by the traditional meal:
Bread and olive oil (as always),
dates,
another sweet (cookies or this yummy honey covered stuff),
sometimes an almond cinnamon mixture(could be peanut butter-esk if you added some oil and ground it a little more),
and hirara soup.
During the meal I told my family that I wasn't fasting. The conversation with my host mom went something like this: Ok, but you should come every day to break fast with us, and have dinner. Well, maybe sometimes. No, everyday. And we will have a tagine for dinner. We'll see, nshalla. Everyday you'll come here. My host mom can be more than a little instant, she is always telling me to eat more, eat more, just a little.
And so I ate, bread and soup and everything else until I was sufficiently full. I hung out until about 9 and when I tried to leave I encountered surprisingly fierce resistance. I had to stay and eat dinner. I reminded my host mom that I was not fasting and had already eaten 3 meals, I didn't want another. These facts were irrelevant, all that mattered was that she had food and no one leaves her house with out eating until she is satisfied. In order to leave I had to promise to stay the following night.
I rolled into bed tired and full, ready for a good nights sleep. But then, at 3am the drums from a few nights ago were right outside my window. Druming, and singing; only one person this time but plenty to wake me up. I remembered a conversation I'd had with my brother the night before. In Arabic/Berber the number 3 and 8 sound similar, and when he was telling me that every day they play the drums...I wasn't listening close enough and heard 8 when he was saying 3. On no, everyday!
I arrived at my host family's house that evening to break fast prepared to keep my promise. I ate less at the first meal and settled in, not sure how late dinner would be and afraid it might not be until midnight. Thankfully, tagine was served at 9:30 and I was at home in bed by 10:30. Tired and ready for a good night sleep...until 3am.
Well, you get the idea. My village seems to be unique in this custom. I assume that because my village is much more compact than others this is not an option in other places. Living in this small village during Ramadan is strange, even my internet town was deserted during the day. But I'm working into a routine. I take advantage of the early wake-up call and run before it gets hot. Sometimes I visit my host mom, who is weaving to pass the time, and other days I just read. I have lunch and find ways to pass the remainder of the day. At 7 I eat with my host family, and stay for dinner about every 3 nights. I'm so tired that I'm usually asleep by 10. I wake-up to the drums at 3, the call to prayer at 4:30 and the roosters around 5:30. I'm usually a morning person (when I'm not working late nights) but I hope I don't continue on this schedule after Ramadan. 5:30 is a little early for my liking.
Speaking of bed-times. Its 9 here and I'm beat. I think this post is long enough. There is plenty more to catch-up later. And if anyone in Cali feels like calling me at 8p (your time), I'm up. 8 seems is a nice time to enjoy the drums :)
Until next time (I promise it won't be so long!). Have fun, and I'll talk to you all soon.
