Chit-chat

I went to the medina yesterday evening to check on some pictures that I left with a friend of mine; he’s a painter, and I asked if he would get the pictures framed for me. Really, I asked him where we could get them framed, and he insisted on doing it for us. Last night, I didn’t make it there.

B’shwia.

On completely empty streets, it takes about a half hour for me to walk to his shop, and another half hour home. Around 5, I left my house to walk over, through the Mellah, where I had to stop to say hello to my friend who sells teapots. I then encountered the shop where I had left my boots, after having them break shortly after buying them, for the shopkeeper to repair the zipper. He hadn’t finished fixing them yet, but he had me come in and sit down while he messed around with them, and then he wanted me to try on a bunch of other shoes, ALL of which were the wrong size. Then I had to have an exchange with a homeless woman I know between two streets, and inquire as to the well-being of the caretaker of a hotel I scope out to defer guests to, since my place is not currently hosting out-of-towners overnight. I was delayed by the owner of my coffee-shop who saw me passing by, and wanted me to see how successful he’s been at chasing the cats away from his café, since I sometimes feed them when I sit. My favorite mul-malawi guy saw me, and the traditional mul-magasin in the medina streets wanted to teach me some business terms in Arabic.

By the time I got to Sidi Mohamed’s shop, it was late and everything was closed.

Just another evening in Africa. Typical. I love it.

There are some very specific rules about chit-chat, and it’s very prescribed. In my home culture, I am basically free to chat with anyone who feels like talking to me; this is relatively rare with strangers. Here, EVERYBODY wants to talk, in very direct ways. Strangers on the street run up to me and yell, “Are you from France? England?” It would be akin to waving down the next black person you see to ask if they were from Africa… so not p.c.

Although everybody *wants* to talk, the rules here are clearer about when chit-chat is appropriate. Navigating these social mores has resulted with my understanding of two very mutually exclusive groups of people: those with whom casual conversation IS appropriate, and those with whom it is NOT.

IS: For me, it’s appropriate to start conversations with virtually any females. I am also expected to talk with any foreigners, or anyone who looks foreign. Male shopkeepers are also appropriate to talk with, as long as there is the remotest faint possibility I may at some point be monetarily supporting their business.

NOT: Any local males who are not selling something. The only possible exception to this rule can be, sometimes, small children, very old men, men introduced to me by someone in the “is” category while we are supervised by said person, or someone with whom I am physically trapped for a period of time, such as a fellow passenger in a traincar or taxi. These conversations are had with a good show of trepidation.

I never cease to find this cultural distinction interesting, and from an insider’s perspective a bit amusing.