Spring is here, and new life follows close on the heels of the re-appearance of street life.
The first sign was the fall of the zaHaraH, which is one of the most beautiful words in Arabic, meaning flower (or sometimes more specifically the flowers of an orange tree.) The flowers of the fruit trees feel like the snow we never had, making the ground not only white and soft, but also with a sticky-sweet fragrance that makes me think of hummingbirds and sugar-water. In place of these remarkable snow-drop-like flowers, the trees hosted a variety of delicious fruit or decoy fruit. I first noticed this while leading the usually well-behaved sixth grade inside for science class. I looked over my shoulder at the door to the school to find several of the students out of line, and IN the tree by the door, shaking the branches to drop the small yellow fruits on their expectant classmates below. I was upset, until Simo forced one of the fruits on me. Under the tough rind, the orange fruit was juicy and flavorfully sweet; I had one of those frightening moments of self-doubt of an authority figure who has just realized that her instructions are the opposite of what she and everyone else wants. So we went to science and keyed out this fantastic tree. And then studied Outer Space.
The second sign was the kittens. Fes has hundreds of stray cats, and they are generally seen as dirty pests, though cute: akin to squirrels in US. One of my students on Monday told me about the kittens in the back of the school, and we went as a class between periods to visit them. There were four little furballs, not even a week old, nestled in a cardboard box. Karina had moved them from the school's bastement window-wells. They each had unique colourings, and the calico mama watched us protectively from a safe distance. A few students brought her their lunch leftovers, but the kittens were bothered enough that Mama-cat moved them next door Tuesday morning. It was sweet to see all the students loving the cats and talking about how to care for them.
The third sign of spring was the chicks. In contrast to the kittens, these were clearly bred for consumers, as they were a rainbow of neon colour! During lunch Wednesday morning, I heard a choir of "Miss! Miss!" calling in my classroom window. I went outside and found my students respectively holding a hot pink baby chick, a bright orange one, one in lime green, one lemon yellow chick, and a big snail. The neighbor had dyed the chicks with bright colours and was selling them for 10dh each, although my students informed me that the dye wasn't good for them and a bath immediately is the only way to ensure their safety. The neighbor had put the snail on one boy's head while he was working. All the chicks earned names, and a photo shoot of cuteness ensued. The bell rang and the chicks went back in the neighbor's cage. Math began.
The fourth sign of spring is the giant cigar-birds outside my house. They look like the ash-grey chimney swifts, with darker black wingtips and an elegant, sweeping shape - but their wingspan is about a foot long! I like watching them swoop around the road in front of my apartment, but they've recently decided to give me a closer look. They continually bombard the upper corners of my window wells! I thought this was odd, but took it for coincidence, or clumsy flying. I like to sleep with my window cracked (it slides sideways open) because the squatty-potty stinks, and Friday night was no exception. On Saturday morning around 6am, I heard the Giant Chimney Swifts start squeeking as they began their dance on my road. Suddenly, in an ungainly 'thump,' a little feathered face looked me right in the eye. I leapt out of my bed, and a sweet little (well, BIG) songbird tilted his head back and forth, looking pleasently surprised at his good fortune to have landed on a pillow! He had his wings a little splayed, but made no effort to correct them, or move at all. Had I left him another minute, I think he would have fallen asleep on my pillow! I tried to shoo him outside, but he was too pleased with himself to heed my shushing. He didn't move. And didn't move. And didn't move, except to cock his head cheekily at me. Finally, I slid the window open as wide as it would go, hoping another wouldn't join him, and picked up my whole pillow, shaking it out the window to dislodge the poor comfortable Flying Cigar. I threw the pillow into a corner of my room, closed the window, cranked down the Fort Nox blinds, and went back to sleep.
Lastly, there's me. The Fessies are not known for their great care in personal cleanliness, but this week I am hamaaming and preening myself in anticipation of my trip to Turkey to visit Steve in what is currently HIS country of residence. My flight leaves Tuesday morning from Casablanca, so I will be taking the train to Casa on Monday night, and hopefully staying with family of a friend so I can make my flight on time. Steve and I will be in Istambul together for 4 days. There's a zoo near Istambul! But it might be closed. Post a comment if you've been there and you have a recommendation for something we shouldn't miss seeing.
Happy Spring!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
A Few Comments on the Dry Political Information
Inspired by a project undertaken by my friend Ghizlane, I have been reading the Constitution of this country. For those who are interested in the summary, I have included the cliffnotes version: my notes are in the post to follow.
I was surprised by how much the wording of the establishment and checks and balances of the branches resembles that of the American constitution, and I thus focused my attentions more on the part played by the King in the constitution. The wording surrounding the King's sections are interesting, leaving the judgement and absolute power to the person himself instead of the written document.
Instead of defining "offensive statement" in the constitution, it seems to be implied that nothing that is offensive to the King is to be allowed, leaving it up to the King to determine what is offensive. It is an interestingly different approach to make the rules personal, according to the relationship and demeanor of each person, and of the king himself, instead of according to absolutes. Like everything else here, it is more personal.
Really the first 4 chapters seem to be the most important, but I've included a few notes about each of the others. Keep in mind, these are just my notes, typed for myself, so I certainly have not captured the entirety of the law here. (This is my disclaimer. If you think I've missed something important, please feel free to comment.)
I was surprised by how much the wording of the establishment and checks and balances of the branches resembles that of the American constitution, and I thus focused my attentions more on the part played by the King in the constitution. The wording surrounding the King's sections are interesting, leaving the judgement and absolute power to the person himself instead of the written document.
Instead of defining "offensive statement" in the constitution, it seems to be implied that nothing that is offensive to the King is to be allowed, leaving it up to the King to determine what is offensive. It is an interestingly different approach to make the rules personal, according to the relationship and demeanor of each person, and of the king himself, instead of according to absolutes. Like everything else here, it is more personal.
Really the first 4 chapters seem to be the most important, but I've included a few notes about each of the others. Keep in mind, these are just my notes, typed for myself, so I certainly have not captured the entirety of the law here. (This is my disclaimer. If you think I've missed something important, please feel free to comment.)
WARNING: Dry Political Information
Moroccan constitution:
Chapter 1
a constitutional monarchy, in which "Sovereignty will be that of the people who exercise it directly" but the politiacal parties (there are 9 leftist parties, 4 rightist parties, and 7 central parties) will be
representative of the people, and all Moroccan citizens will be held equal under the eyes of the state. It is an Islamic state, but
citizens will be permitted freedom of worship, and citizens are also entitled to freedom of opinion, and "its expression in all forms." Moroccans
are also entitled to free movement and settlement throughout the state. Men and women are guaranteed equal political, educational, and employmental freedom.
The home is "inviolable" and "secrecy of personal contact shall be preserved."
Chapter 2 - monarchy
The Moroccan Crown and the constitutional rights thereof shall be heriditary and
handed down, from father to son, to descendants in direct male line and by order of
primogeniture among the offspring of His Majesty King Hassan II, unless the King should,
during his lifetime, designate a successor among his sons apart from the eldest one. In case of
failing descendants in direct male line, the right of succession to the Throne shall, under the
same conditions, be invested in the closest male in the collateral consanguinity.
King is a minor until he turns 16; a regency council of other governmental leaders has some of his powers,
and continues to advise him until he turns 20.
"The person of the King will be sacred and inviolable."
King can declare the country in a state of emergency, and thus take over on ALL ruling decisions, including dissolving
one or both branches of parliament.
Chapter 3 - parliament
Two houses: House of Representatives, and House of Councillors
House of Representatives - elected by direct universal suffrage for a 6 year term, during October 5 years after previous election.
House of Councillors - elected by an electoral college. 3/5 by region, 2/5 by a nationally elected electoral college. 9 year term, 1/3 of Councillors
replaced every three years, elections held in October
Parliament members are protected from prosecution due to the opinions they express, unless they are detrimental to Islam or the respect owed to the King.
Parliament meets twice a year: On the second Friday in October, and second friday in April. Meetings last less than 3 months.
It's their job to deal with most of the little legal matters that haven't been solved at the police station, but aren't big enough to take to the king
They also have the power to propose new laws, which must make it past the king (and absolute majority of each of both Houses)
Chapter 4 - the government
Govenment composed of prime minister and other ministers, and must answer to both houses and the king. They also ensure execution of laws, and
may propose new bills. Prime Minister is chosen by king.
Chapter 5 - relations among branches
Each house can vote bills down.
Chapter 6 - the Constitutional Council
Composed of 6 people chosen by the king who serve for 9 years, 3 chosen by President of the House of Representatives, and 3 chosen by the Preseident
of the House of Councillors.
The King chooses the chairman.
They deal with all the organic laws, including approving bills to be voted on to become laws, and decisions regarding the maintenence of current laws.
Chapter 7 - the Judiciary
Separate from legislative and executive branches, but all sentences shall be passed and executed in the King's name.
The 10 Magistrates are appointed by royal decree, are irremovable, and are presided over by the king.
Chapter 8 - the High Court of Justice
Government members are responsible for their actions, including felonies, commited while in service.
Chapter 9 - There is an economic and \Social Council.
Chapter 10 - the Audit Court
Supervises legality of the budget. Reports directly to the King.
Chapter 11 - Local Government
Broken down into Regions, Prefectures, Provinces, and Communes. Local assemblies shall be elected. Governors shall be elected. They are responsible
for law enforcement and implementation, and local management.
Chapter 12 - Revising the Constitution requires particular combos of proposals and approval, a bit from each branch
Chapter 13 - Special Provisions
There were only two articles here, clearly add-ons that the original authors thought should be obvious. When parliament members are lame duck, they
still have to do the work, and the past Constitutional Council rulings do not give the current constitutional council the right to do anything
not in accord ith this Constitution.
Chapter 1
a constitutional monarchy, in which "Sovereignty will be that of the people who exercise it directly" but the politiacal parties (there are 9 leftist parties, 4 rightist parties, and 7 central parties) will be
representative of the people, and all Moroccan citizens will be held equal under the eyes of the state. It is an Islamic state, but
citizens will be permitted freedom of worship, and citizens are also entitled to freedom of opinion, and "its expression in all forms." Moroccans
are also entitled to free movement and settlement throughout the state. Men and women are guaranteed equal political, educational, and employmental freedom.
The home is "inviolable" and "secrecy of personal contact shall be preserved."
Chapter 2 - monarchy
The Moroccan Crown and the constitutional rights thereof shall be heriditary and
handed down, from father to son, to descendants in direct male line and by order of
primogeniture among the offspring of His Majesty King Hassan II, unless the King should,
during his lifetime, designate a successor among his sons apart from the eldest one. In case of
failing descendants in direct male line, the right of succession to the Throne shall, under the
same conditions, be invested in the closest male in the collateral consanguinity.
King is a minor until he turns 16; a regency council of other governmental leaders has some of his powers,
and continues to advise him until he turns 20.
"The person of the King will be sacred and inviolable."
King can declare the country in a state of emergency, and thus take over on ALL ruling decisions, including dissolving
one or both branches of parliament.
Chapter 3 - parliament
Two houses: House of Representatives, and House of Councillors
House of Representatives - elected by direct universal suffrage for a 6 year term, during October 5 years after previous election.
House of Councillors - elected by an electoral college. 3/5 by region, 2/5 by a nationally elected electoral college. 9 year term, 1/3 of Councillors
replaced every three years, elections held in October
Parliament members are protected from prosecution due to the opinions they express, unless they are detrimental to Islam or the respect owed to the King.
Parliament meets twice a year: On the second Friday in October, and second friday in April. Meetings last less than 3 months.
It's their job to deal with most of the little legal matters that haven't been solved at the police station, but aren't big enough to take to the king
They also have the power to propose new laws, which must make it past the king (and absolute majority of each of both Houses)
Chapter 4 - the government
Govenment composed of prime minister and other ministers, and must answer to both houses and the king. They also ensure execution of laws, and
may propose new bills. Prime Minister is chosen by king.
Chapter 5 - relations among branches
Each house can vote bills down.
Chapter 6 - the Constitutional Council
Composed of 6 people chosen by the king who serve for 9 years, 3 chosen by President of the House of Representatives, and 3 chosen by the Preseident
of the House of Councillors.
The King chooses the chairman.
They deal with all the organic laws, including approving bills to be voted on to become laws, and decisions regarding the maintenence of current laws.
Chapter 7 - the Judiciary
Separate from legislative and executive branches, but all sentences shall be passed and executed in the King's name.
The 10 Magistrates are appointed by royal decree, are irremovable, and are presided over by the king.
Chapter 8 - the High Court of Justice
Government members are responsible for their actions, including felonies, commited while in service.
Chapter 9 - There is an economic and \Social Council.
Chapter 10 - the Audit Court
Supervises legality of the budget. Reports directly to the King.
Chapter 11 - Local Government
Broken down into Regions, Prefectures, Provinces, and Communes. Local assemblies shall be elected. Governors shall be elected. They are responsible
for law enforcement and implementation, and local management.
Chapter 12 - Revising the Constitution requires particular combos of proposals and approval, a bit from each branch
Chapter 13 - Special Provisions
There were only two articles here, clearly add-ons that the original authors thought should be obvious. When parliament members are lame duck, they
still have to do the work, and the past Constitutional Council rulings do not give the current constitutional council the right to do anything
not in accord ith this Constitution.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A Moroccan Sunday
America's weekly routine is all about independence and being OUT: Friday nights, or Saturday nights, are for going to parties, dances, or restaurants. Young singles go out on dates these nights, married couples make special time for each other, groups of girls have a Friday night trip to the movie theatre, and groups of guys go to a bar to watch whatever sports game we girls forgot was on. Even families go out to concerts in the park, or go into town for ice cream, or take the kids for a walk on Friday or Saturday evening.
In Morocco,the weekly routines are about the family being IN.
Friday is a day of cooking, and Sunday a day of cleaning.
On Sunday, Amina and her family came to meet me at my house. I'm sure they shake their heads at me when they come over, thinking "this poor little American girl has no idea how to care for a Moroccan house," and it's very true. The methods of cleaning here are quite different. I've been using the squeegee brush instead of a broom or vacuum, but I was not prepared for what happened Sunday. The whole family met me at my apartment in lovely djellabahs and head scarves, which they took off as soon as they were in the door, a storm of velvets and silks that left in its wake all manner of djellaba underclothes: mismatched pajamas, sweatsuits, and the fantastic Moroccan leggings that are made of sweater-fabric.
Amina and her family took the house by storm.
Khadija began rifling through my cupboards and mixing flour with yeast to make the khubz-bread, while Amina and I found all the supplies we'd need, including buying some extra brushes and another bucket (Driss promptly broke the first one). Fuzia and Fatiha began moving the furniture, then filled a giant bucket with soapy water and upended it over my carpet! Driss kept filling the bucket and dumping more water on the floor, and we women rotated through the bristly scrubbing of the carpet, throwing water on the windows and walls, and manning the squeegee to ensure that the flood of water that covered our ankles was shepherded into the squatty-potty drain.
In the flurry of activity and sudsy buckets, everyone and everyTHING was drenched. I want to compare the efficiency of the women rotating scrubbing tasks to a machine, with each part working together seamlessly; however, the efficiency of Amina's family far surpassed any machines that I have seen in the last year. I find it very refreshing after frustrations with Moroccan things not working to be witness to Moroccan PEOPLE working with more expertise than I could imagine. Cleaning the house was like a spectacularly choreographed Renaissance dance.
After everything was soaked, scrubbed, soaked again, and squeegied, we rolled up the carpets and carried them to the roof to dry in the sun. Amina and I went out for a 2-kilo chicken and some olives and lemon to make tagine. I still haven't figured out if the "2 kilos" of the chicken refers to before or after it is killed, but I've found a chicken-man who skins and guts it before giving it to me. I appreciate this a lot.
We sat down as a family to delicious tagine and homemade bread in the apartment that was spotless, but destroyed. We had to sit on the buckets and a few plastic deck chairs, since the couches had been taken apart to wash the cushions. The wool had been removed from the pillows so we could wash the cases, leaving a pile of about a dozen sheep-skins worth of wool in one corner of the apartment. I resisted jumping into this pile for about 2 hours, and was proud of my restraint. When I finally pretended to trip and fall into the pile, the wool engulfed my body completely, and Amina and her family thought it was the silliest thing they'd ever seen.
Despite the open windows and warm sunshine, the apartment was wet for the rest of the day.
We spent the rest of the afternoon as comfortably as a family. I brought some little gifts to show my appreciation to them for teaching me to clean, and we all made henna and played cards until Amina and her family had to leave to catch the last bus home. They left me with the greatest left-overs, a new determination regarding my apartment, my favorite henna designs, and a refreshed spirit.
In Morocco,the weekly routines are about the family being IN.
Friday is a day of cooking, and Sunday a day of cleaning.
On Sunday, Amina and her family came to meet me at my house. I'm sure they shake their heads at me when they come over, thinking "this poor little American girl has no idea how to care for a Moroccan house," and it's very true. The methods of cleaning here are quite different. I've been using the squeegee brush instead of a broom or vacuum, but I was not prepared for what happened Sunday. The whole family met me at my apartment in lovely djellabahs and head scarves, which they took off as soon as they were in the door, a storm of velvets and silks that left in its wake all manner of djellaba underclothes: mismatched pajamas, sweatsuits, and the fantastic Moroccan leggings that are made of sweater-fabric.
Amina and her family took the house by storm.
Khadija began rifling through my cupboards and mixing flour with yeast to make the khubz-bread, while Amina and I found all the supplies we'd need, including buying some extra brushes and another bucket (Driss promptly broke the first one). Fuzia and Fatiha began moving the furniture, then filled a giant bucket with soapy water and upended it over my carpet! Driss kept filling the bucket and dumping more water on the floor, and we women rotated through the bristly scrubbing of the carpet, throwing water on the windows and walls, and manning the squeegee to ensure that the flood of water that covered our ankles was shepherded into the squatty-potty drain.
In the flurry of activity and sudsy buckets, everyone and everyTHING was drenched. I want to compare the efficiency of the women rotating scrubbing tasks to a machine, with each part working together seamlessly; however, the efficiency of Amina's family far surpassed any machines that I have seen in the last year. I find it very refreshing after frustrations with Moroccan things not working to be witness to Moroccan PEOPLE working with more expertise than I could imagine. Cleaning the house was like a spectacularly choreographed Renaissance dance.
After everything was soaked, scrubbed, soaked again, and squeegied, we rolled up the carpets and carried them to the roof to dry in the sun. Amina and I went out for a 2-kilo chicken and some olives and lemon to make tagine. I still haven't figured out if the "2 kilos" of the chicken refers to before or after it is killed, but I've found a chicken-man who skins and guts it before giving it to me. I appreciate this a lot.
We sat down as a family to delicious tagine and homemade bread in the apartment that was spotless, but destroyed. We had to sit on the buckets and a few plastic deck chairs, since the couches had been taken apart to wash the cushions. The wool had been removed from the pillows so we could wash the cases, leaving a pile of about a dozen sheep-skins worth of wool in one corner of the apartment. I resisted jumping into this pile for about 2 hours, and was proud of my restraint. When I finally pretended to trip and fall into the pile, the wool engulfed my body completely, and Amina and her family thought it was the silliest thing they'd ever seen.
Despite the open windows and warm sunshine, the apartment was wet for the rest of the day.
We spent the rest of the afternoon as comfortably as a family. I brought some little gifts to show my appreciation to them for teaching me to clean, and we all made henna and played cards until Amina and her family had to leave to catch the last bus home. They left me with the greatest left-overs, a new determination regarding my apartment, my favorite henna designs, and a refreshed spirit.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Chocolate, postcards, and internet
1 Happiness is chocolate, postcards, and internet.
2 Happiness is anytime the indoor temperature falls between 40 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
3 A note passed from a student to me. During class. That only says "love u."
4 A "roommate meeting"
5 Not needing to worry about matching my clothes in the morning
6 A shower
7 Happiness is the sunshine, that feels ten times more intense, and makes everything glow like magic.
8 Happiness is leaving my house in search of bananas only to have a man pulling a cart of bananas cross my path ON my doorstep.
9 Listening to my neighborhood kids playing soccer in my street at 1am.
10 Using a western toilet.
11 Happiness is being able to give my best friend IT classes, and living in culture where she is not afraid to accept such a gift; in fact, it only feels appropriate after all that she and her family have done for me.
12 Happiness is henna hands.
13 Passing the same set of little markets every time you walk a street, with the same people working them all the time. And knowing when somebody feels lazy, because their store is closed.
14 A donkey. Carrying... anything.
15 Happiness is expressing the same sentiment in several different languages, however poorly; it really makes the moment several times more poignant.
16 Hosting elaborately ceremonial dinner parties
17 Public transportation
18 Being able to type again after having just cut fingernails for the first time in several weeks. ^.^
19 Modern dance with 9 Moroccan girls between the ages of 12 and 18, in the open-air cafeteria patio on the roof of my school.
20 Happiness is the excitement of being out in a familiar and exotic medina all evening and returning home to left-over tagine, my mom's prayer shawl, and the smell of spices still clinging to my clothes.
2 Happiness is anytime the indoor temperature falls between 40 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
3 A note passed from a student to me. During class. That only says "love u."
4 A "roommate meeting"
5 Not needing to worry about matching my clothes in the morning
6 A shower
7 Happiness is the sunshine, that feels ten times more intense, and makes everything glow like magic.
8 Happiness is leaving my house in search of bananas only to have a man pulling a cart of bananas cross my path ON my doorstep.
9 Listening to my neighborhood kids playing soccer in my street at 1am.
10 Using a western toilet.
11 Happiness is being able to give my best friend IT classes, and living in culture where she is not afraid to accept such a gift; in fact, it only feels appropriate after all that she and her family have done for me.
12 Happiness is henna hands.
13 Passing the same set of little markets every time you walk a street, with the same people working them all the time. And knowing when somebody feels lazy, because their store is closed.
14 A donkey. Carrying... anything.
15 Happiness is expressing the same sentiment in several different languages, however poorly; it really makes the moment several times more poignant.
16 Hosting elaborately ceremonial dinner parties
17 Public transportation
18 Being able to type again after having just cut fingernails for the first time in several weeks. ^.^
19 Modern dance with 9 Moroccan girls between the ages of 12 and 18, in the open-air cafeteria patio on the roof of my school.
20 Happiness is the excitement of being out in a familiar and exotic medina all evening and returning home to left-over tagine, my mom's prayer shawl, and the smell of spices still clinging to my clothes.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Conservation of 'Stuff'
The ultimate show of "my teacher is pleased with us" is to let the students have 'free time.' Don't let the misnomer fool you; 'free time' actually means 'playing soccer,' and free time requests were pretty frequent even in the dead of winter. Today, students in every class immediately began the mantra, "Miss, isn't it sooo nice outside!" The request is regular enough that it doesn't even need to be stated any more. In illustration of the amazing days here, 3aisa was heard to respond, "Don't tell me it's nice outside! It's not winter any more, it's ALWAYS nice outside!"
I recall an American Indian fable about beavers who were gambling; they bid their own soft pelts, because, once given away, they could simply flop their tails in their pure lakewater and grow new ones. Even as a kid, this bothered me because of the clear lack of concern for the conservation of stuff-ness. Stuff can become other stuff, but it can't appear out of no where (I hear adults actually call this Conservation of Matter or something), but spring in Morocco also seems to disregard this Conservation of Stuff.
The once bare streets of dingy cobblestones and dirty gutters now teem with bright silk-clad women and noisy soccer-ball-toting children. Every curb is lined with Moroccans stopping to 'save time' by pausing in the midst of all varieties of errands. Pairs of women sit with groceries, on their way to make cous-cous at home. Children sit with pilfered bottles of water or some small found treasure; they huddle together in secrecy over piles of torn up cookie labels, smacking the pile and claiming any that flip. Men sit and watch the world, on hiatus between watching the world from this cafe and watching the world at the next restaurant. Every space on every curb is full.
In the middle of the sidewalk on the big boulevard is a cross-hatching of grates that occasionally spouts water in a 10x10 set of fountains. I keep waiting for it to surprise an unsuspecting passer-by, but I have yet to be rewarded. The fountain turned on yesterday and seemed to spawn children the way the lake-waters may have spawned beaver-pelts. Children ran underfoot, and other smaller children ran under their feet. Older teens sometimes braved the bustle to have their pictures taken with the fountain; in particular I saw one girl, we'll call her Khadija, in a red velvet djellaba, tiptoe between the fountains and turn to smile at her friend with the camera. At just that minute, two little boys in traditional clothing (white and yellow djellabas - who let THEM in the fountain?!) ran past, smacking each of the spewing fountains and sloshing water over Khadija. I expected trouble for them. Khadija shrieked, then turned and started chasing the boys! They did a full ring around the rosy before she brought them back to their mother, who was sitting next to me. Khadija caught my eye for a second as she flipped her hair back to its perfect style, and nodded, before returning to her stunned friend.
The sunshine brings out the best in everyone.
I recall an American Indian fable about beavers who were gambling; they bid their own soft pelts, because, once given away, they could simply flop their tails in their pure lakewater and grow new ones. Even as a kid, this bothered me because of the clear lack of concern for the conservation of stuff-ness. Stuff can become other stuff, but it can't appear out of no where (I hear adults actually call this Conservation of Matter or something), but spring in Morocco also seems to disregard this Conservation of Stuff.
The once bare streets of dingy cobblestones and dirty gutters now teem with bright silk-clad women and noisy soccer-ball-toting children. Every curb is lined with Moroccans stopping to 'save time' by pausing in the midst of all varieties of errands. Pairs of women sit with groceries, on their way to make cous-cous at home. Children sit with pilfered bottles of water or some small found treasure; they huddle together in secrecy over piles of torn up cookie labels, smacking the pile and claiming any that flip. Men sit and watch the world, on hiatus between watching the world from this cafe and watching the world at the next restaurant. Every space on every curb is full.
In the middle of the sidewalk on the big boulevard is a cross-hatching of grates that occasionally spouts water in a 10x10 set of fountains. I keep waiting for it to surprise an unsuspecting passer-by, but I have yet to be rewarded. The fountain turned on yesterday and seemed to spawn children the way the lake-waters may have spawned beaver-pelts. Children ran underfoot, and other smaller children ran under their feet. Older teens sometimes braved the bustle to have their pictures taken with the fountain; in particular I saw one girl, we'll call her Khadija, in a red velvet djellaba, tiptoe between the fountains and turn to smile at her friend with the camera. At just that minute, two little boys in traditional clothing (white and yellow djellabas - who let THEM in the fountain?!) ran past, smacking each of the spewing fountains and sloshing water over Khadija. I expected trouble for them. Khadija shrieked, then turned and started chasing the boys! They did a full ring around the rosy before she brought them back to their mother, who was sitting next to me. Khadija caught my eye for a second as she flipped her hair back to its perfect style, and nodded, before returning to her stunned friend.
The sunshine brings out the best in everyone.
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