Host Family

I’m a lover of experiences. If I haven’t done in before, I seek it out. I treasure the memories of sights first seen and exaggerated emotions. Zach has the same spirit with the practical yin to this yang. You could likely attribute some of our decision to join the Peace Corps to this motivation, and so far, we are getting what we’ve asked for. Moving in with a Moroccan host family is unlike anything we’ve ever done before. For our 10 week community based training, we were assigned to a community called Merja, which is right outside of Fez. We will be here until we officially swear in and receive our final site placement at the end of March. We are somewhere around here:

There were some serious butterflies associated with this next step in our PC journey. We could barely introduce ourselves in Darija. We had just spent the week learning about all the opportunities for cultural faux pas. We would be spending 2 months with them, and there is something interesting about starting a relationship as strangers with the expectation that it would soon become very intimate. Alas, people totally do this. 100 other volunteers were about to have the same experience. Hundreds of thousands have done it before. We tried to stay present and take in the unfamiliarity.

Fes, Morocco

It didn’t take long to see how lucky we are. As we pulled up in the taxi in front of a city hall equivalent, our families were all waiting for us. We introduced ourselves to everyone and were paired with whom we belonged with. Zachary was dubbed a Moroccan name and changed to Zakaria on the spot. A mayor equivalent took us up to his office welcoming us to the town and offering any support we needed while here. Then, we went home. Our host parents are Aziz and Najia. They have 5 children, with 3 living at home. We have 2 host sisters and 1 brother in the house. Donnia (27) Kouter (18) and Madhi (17). They are all great. We live in a large apartment, and they have given us their only room with a bed/door. That is only the beginning of the hospitality. We keep wishing we had the words to thank them enough for all of their kindness. The first thing they showed us was a plate from Michigan that they have as their centerpiece in the formal living room from the volunteer before us. They had a great experience with her, which makes it nice for us. They are privy to the experience having done it before. As we look at each other in silence or messily formulate thoughts and questions, they assuringly and frequently tell us “Shwiya B Shwiya,” a Moroccan saying meaning little by little or step by step. Nothing could be more accurate.

Though communication is limited, we are well taken care of. When you can’t talk to someone, feed them! One of the first vocabulary words we learned in this immersion experience is “Kuhl” meaning eat! And we eat, a lot. In Morocco there are 4-5 meals a day. In our house, breakfast is the same as tea time, and tea time is before lunch and dinner. This consists of bread, olives, olive oil, cheese, jam, popcorn, and other snacks. Lunch and dinner are eaten with a white bread from a communal dish. We have certainly introduced unprecedented levels of bread and sugar into our diets. Friday is couscous day, which is already my favorite. I have been spending a lot of time with my host mom and sisters in the kitchen. When I helped to make couscous, they ran to get Zach showing him what a good wife I was becoming. Lets just say he is experiencing a new level of royal treatment. No matter; I’ll take some gender roles on the side if it means learning to make good couscous.

 It has now been a week, and we are surviving (minus the 4-5 days I was sick and not surviving). We are in language training at least 4-5 hours a day along with other activities and classes. We leave the house at 8:30, come back from 12-3, and are gone again until 5:00. In reality, everything is a classroom at this point, and we have definitely felt the sensation of our brains getting full. I’m likening mine to a jack in the box. Only so much can be cranked in a day or else it will all pop out. Nonetheless, we sometimes, once in a while understand each other, and that is encouraging. We’ve learned more than we could have imagined in one week, and are optimistic about the remaining 9 here in Merja. I'm having a hard time uploading more photos, so here are a couple from the phone. I'll add more into the next post. 

Dinner on 1st night: Chicken with sauce and french fries on top

Playing Uno