Background Fact #1 Ramadan began on Saturday. It is now the most holy month of the year. Moroccans (and many Peace Corps volunteers) are fasting from sunrise to sundown. The whole country is more conservative than normal and praying all five times a day is much more strictly adhered to.
Background Fact #2 Most Moroccan's don't have showers in their homes. Instead they go to the local hemmam (public bath house). There are set hours for men to go and set hours for women to go to the hemmam. In Toon Town during the other eleven months of the year the men's hours are 6am-12pm and 6pm-12am. Which leaves the women's time from 12pm-6pm.
However, seeing as it would be extremely difficult to sit in a steam room and bathe whilst fasting, the hours change for Ramadan. Lftar (break fast) is around 7.30pm and shortly after that the hemmam opens to women who can enjoy the hot steamy hemmam until midnight. Then the men have use of it from 12am until 2am, which is an hour before suhoor (last meal before sunrise) is eaten.
Last night, I joined my landlord's family for lftar. We broke fast with hard boiled eggs and milk blended with bananas. This was followed by dates and an assortment of fried breads. The best fried bread being agrhom win tadunt (fat bread). Mama stuffed her bread with minced meat, but it varies from house to house, other varieties include thinly sliced onions, peppers, fat and an array of spices. It sounds a little gross, but trust me it's delicious.
We sipped on the banana shakes, plain milk, mint tea and coffee. Then it was time for Harira (soup of Ramadan and one of my top five Moroccan specialties). I love Harira. That is until I realize that it's been jazzed up with little bits of kidney. Then I hate Harira and try and down my bowl without having to chew the kidney bits. I had to swallow large chunks of kidney last night in an effort not to gag in front of Mama and company. I'm pretty open to eating just about anything these days, but the texture and flavor of kidney is something I have never acquired a taste for.
All of this was followed by chocolate flavored flan. I was ready to burst and certainly not looking forward to sitting in the hemmam on a full stomach. For almost 45 minutes I contemplated skipping the hemmam and bucket bathing in the morning. But, it had been three and a half days since my last bath and it's hot outside so I needed to bathe. Mama tried her best to convince me to go to the hemmam and then come back to her place for dinner and midnight. I told her I was already struggling to stay awake and that when I finished at the hemmam I would be going straight to bed. I promised I'd come back another day and stay for the midnight dinner though.
And so off I went to the hemmam. I was already off my game; walking in the dark with my bucket and bag of towels, clean clothes, toiletries, etc...I'm used to doing this in the daylight and to be honest I never go out after dark. The hemmam is attached to the mosque and I didn't realize that the evening call to prayer had gone off just before I left my house. So not only was I walking in the dark with all my hemmam gear, but I was also surrounded by half of Tounfite's men who were all headed next door to where I was going. Awkward. In case you don't get just how awkward, it is already embarrassing during daylight when I am carrying my hemmam supplies and pass a random guy or boy. Some creepers give a 'bssHa l'hemmam' (to your about to be/already clean health) which is totally hshuma (shameful) on their part, but even more disturbing for me as I know they are imagining me bathing. So walking in the middle of the night with half the town's men-who are going to pray-was out of my skin awkward.
Somehow I didn't die of embarrassment and I entered the safety of the all-women zone. I'm in the hemmam. Latifa, the girl who works the women's time at the hemmam (taking payments and handing out buckets, selling soap etc...) greets me and I wish her Mbruk Ramadan (Happy/Congratulations Ramadan). When you enter the hemmam from outside, the first room you step into is changing room. This is where Latifa sits watching television and all the women strip into underwear. It's an open room, meaning you don't get changed in private.
I set my bucket on the floor, sit on the bench that lines the wall and strip down to my bikini bottoms. Most women wear underwear, although there are a few who go commando and all go topless. I store my shampoo/toiletries in my hemmam bucket along with my collapsable stool, which I sit on while I bathe.
Before I enter the steam/bathing rooms, I always put the legs of the stool in place. So I grab my stool and the four legs out of the bucket. I flip the stool upside down so that I can insert the legs and BAM. My house guest has hitched a ride to the hemmam in the bottom of my stool. He looked like this and was huge. And strangely shiny...perhaps he had been feeding on my conditioner for the past week.
He'd obviously had a shock to the system being pulled out of the bucket and was frantically trying to scramble back into the safety of darkness. He was two inches from crawling up my arm. Now please hear me out; I was not scared of the beetle. He was rather large and definitely not invited, but I knew he couldn't hurt me.
To be honest, I was more struck with a panic/embarrassment one might have if they went to the hairdressers only to be told you needed to leave immediately-you have fleas or lice and get out! How embarrassing to show up with my bucket and a filthy bug inside. I was panicking because I didn't want to be judged by the other women for carrying this new friend into their place of cleanliness. And that's when it happened.
With the base of my stool at a careful distance in front of me and a panic-ridden face, I made a beeline straight for the front door to flick him back into nature...My hand reached for the door handle and I pushed down MIRIAM LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO)!!!!!
Before I even realized what I was doing Latifa had seen the bug, dived in front of me, grabbed the stool and was screaming 'ur ghorm i3abbannm' (you don't have your clothes on). I was in nothing but bikini bottoms and flip flops. Another woman, was now holding me from behind and we were in what can only be described as a naked mess together as I began to snap back into reality.
This is the official definition of mortifying.
I was now being screamed at by both women 'llan coolshi irizan ghrs dina brah attudun s adazaln' (all the men are just there outside, going to pray)!! It was literally less than seconds away from happening.
If Latifa hadn't of been paying attention, it would have happened.
Latifa was fully clothed and got rid of the bug. She came back inside and I thanked God she was there. I also considered hugging her, but decided enough awkward naked touching had happened for one night. I exclaimed 'ursingh mani ixfinu' (I don't know where my head is) and she said 'ida' (it's gone). She then laughed until she cried. So did the other naked women who had been restraining me.
Until that moment, I have taken pride in my countless uneventful trips to the hemmam. Before coming to Morocco I read many horror stories on other peoples blogs. None quite as bad as going outside topless on the fourth night of Ramadan in front of the Mosque and half the town's men, but horror stories nonetheless. I have made it two years without committing any really major faux pas.
Those two years went out the hemmam door last night.
I will now always be remembered as the foreigner who took her clothes off and almost went outside in front of all the soon to be praying men. Ruined.
I bathed in record time and in quiet humiliation...quiet aside from the giggles as the story was whispered around the hemmam.
I can take it though, I mean c'mon, do you think I would have made it through the past two years if I didn't have a sense of humor? I laughed until I cried with Latifa and my naked restrainer. And for the next two months I am sure I will laugh every time I enter the hemmam.
And for the next ten years I am sure Latifa will laugh on countless occasions as she tells the story of 'Miriam the foreigner' who almost went outside naked...in front of all the men going to pray on the fourth night of Ramadan.
Blushing,
Miriam x
Background Fact #2 Most Moroccan's don't have showers in their homes. Instead they go to the local hemmam (public bath house). There are set hours for men to go and set hours for women to go to the hemmam. In Toon Town during the other eleven months of the year the men's hours are 6am-12pm and 6pm-12am. Which leaves the women's time from 12pm-6pm.
However, seeing as it would be extremely difficult to sit in a steam room and bathe whilst fasting, the hours change for Ramadan. Lftar (break fast) is around 7.30pm and shortly after that the hemmam opens to women who can enjoy the hot steamy hemmam until midnight. Then the men have use of it from 12am until 2am, which is an hour before suhoor (last meal before sunrise) is eaten.
Last night, I joined my landlord's family for lftar. We broke fast with hard boiled eggs and milk blended with bananas. This was followed by dates and an assortment of fried breads. The best fried bread being agrhom win tadunt (fat bread). Mama stuffed her bread with minced meat, but it varies from house to house, other varieties include thinly sliced onions, peppers, fat and an array of spices. It sounds a little gross, but trust me it's delicious.
We sipped on the banana shakes, plain milk, mint tea and coffee. Then it was time for Harira (soup of Ramadan and one of my top five Moroccan specialties). I love Harira. That is until I realize that it's been jazzed up with little bits of kidney. Then I hate Harira and try and down my bowl without having to chew the kidney bits. I had to swallow large chunks of kidney last night in an effort not to gag in front of Mama and company. I'm pretty open to eating just about anything these days, but the texture and flavor of kidney is something I have never acquired a taste for.
All of this was followed by chocolate flavored flan. I was ready to burst and certainly not looking forward to sitting in the hemmam on a full stomach. For almost 45 minutes I contemplated skipping the hemmam and bucket bathing in the morning. But, it had been three and a half days since my last bath and it's hot outside so I needed to bathe. Mama tried her best to convince me to go to the hemmam and then come back to her place for dinner and midnight. I told her I was already struggling to stay awake and that when I finished at the hemmam I would be going straight to bed. I promised I'd come back another day and stay for the midnight dinner though.
And so off I went to the hemmam. I was already off my game; walking in the dark with my bucket and bag of towels, clean clothes, toiletries, etc...I'm used to doing this in the daylight and to be honest I never go out after dark. The hemmam is attached to the mosque and I didn't realize that the evening call to prayer had gone off just before I left my house. So not only was I walking in the dark with all my hemmam gear, but I was also surrounded by half of Tounfite's men who were all headed next door to where I was going. Awkward. In case you don't get just how awkward, it is already embarrassing during daylight when I am carrying my hemmam supplies and pass a random guy or boy. Some creepers give a 'bssHa l'hemmam' (to your about to be/already clean health) which is totally hshuma (shameful) on their part, but even more disturbing for me as I know they are imagining me bathing. So walking in the middle of the night with half the town's men-who are going to pray-was out of my skin awkward.
Somehow I didn't die of embarrassment and I entered the safety of the all-women zone. I'm in the hemmam. Latifa, the girl who works the women's time at the hemmam (taking payments and handing out buckets, selling soap etc...) greets me and I wish her Mbruk Ramadan (Happy/Congratulations Ramadan). When you enter the hemmam from outside, the first room you step into is changing room. This is where Latifa sits watching television and all the women strip into underwear. It's an open room, meaning you don't get changed in private.
I set my bucket on the floor, sit on the bench that lines the wall and strip down to my bikini bottoms. Most women wear underwear, although there are a few who go commando and all go topless. I store my shampoo/toiletries in my hemmam bucket along with my collapsable stool, which I sit on while I bathe.
Before I enter the steam/bathing rooms, I always put the legs of the stool in place. So I grab my stool and the four legs out of the bucket. I flip the stool upside down so that I can insert the legs and BAM. My house guest has hitched a ride to the hemmam in the bottom of my stool. He looked like this and was huge. And strangely shiny...perhaps he had been feeding on my conditioner for the past week.
He'd obviously had a shock to the system being pulled out of the bucket and was frantically trying to scramble back into the safety of darkness. He was two inches from crawling up my arm. Now please hear me out; I was not scared of the beetle. He was rather large and definitely not invited, but I knew he couldn't hurt me.
To be honest, I was more struck with a panic/embarrassment one might have if they went to the hairdressers only to be told you needed to leave immediately-you have fleas or lice and get out! How embarrassing to show up with my bucket and a filthy bug inside. I was panicking because I didn't want to be judged by the other women for carrying this new friend into their place of cleanliness. And that's when it happened.
With the base of my stool at a careful distance in front of me and a panic-ridden face, I made a beeline straight for the front door to flick him back into nature...My hand reached for the door handle and I pushed down MIRIAM LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO)!!!!!
Before I even realized what I was doing Latifa had seen the bug, dived in front of me, grabbed the stool and was screaming 'ur ghorm i3abbannm' (you don't have your clothes on). I was in nothing but bikini bottoms and flip flops. Another woman, was now holding me from behind and we were in what can only be described as a naked mess together as I began to snap back into reality.
This is the official definition of mortifying.
I was now being screamed at by both women 'llan coolshi irizan ghrs dina brah attudun s adazaln' (all the men are just there outside, going to pray)!! It was literally less than seconds away from happening.
If Latifa hadn't of been paying attention, it would have happened.
Latifa was fully clothed and got rid of the bug. She came back inside and I thanked God she was there. I also considered hugging her, but decided enough awkward naked touching had happened for one night. I exclaimed 'ursingh mani ixfinu' (I don't know where my head is) and she said 'ida' (it's gone). She then laughed until she cried. So did the other naked women who had been restraining me.
Until that moment, I have taken pride in my countless uneventful trips to the hemmam. Before coming to Morocco I read many horror stories on other peoples blogs. None quite as bad as going outside topless on the fourth night of Ramadan in front of the Mosque and half the town's men, but horror stories nonetheless. I have made it two years without committing any really major faux pas.
Those two years went out the hemmam door last night.
I will now always be remembered as the foreigner who took her clothes off and almost went outside in front of all the soon to be praying men. Ruined.
I bathed in record time and in quiet humiliation...quiet aside from the giggles as the story was whispered around the hemmam.
I can take it though, I mean c'mon, do you think I would have made it through the past two years if I didn't have a sense of humor? I laughed until I cried with Latifa and my naked restrainer. And for the next two months I am sure I will laugh every time I enter the hemmam.
And for the next ten years I am sure Latifa will laugh on countless occasions as she tells the story of 'Miriam the foreigner' who almost went outside naked...in front of all the men going to pray on the fourth night of Ramadan.
Blushing,
Miriam x
All's well that ends well Annemarie and no harm done thank goodness. It gave me a good laugh as well as you and all the ladies in the hemmam.Just one more thing to remember you by and with great fondness I'm sure.
ReplyDeleteLove Nana
One more chapter for your book! What a great story. Thanks for sharing it so we can all have a good laugh!
ReplyDeleteLove you!
Mum
xoxoxoxo
My ribs are still aching...I laughed so much! Such a great story for the memory archive - and your mémoires. Much love from Granddad xxxxxx
ReplyDelete