4 Days, 2 Weddings

Yes, I know it's been a long time since I've written anything. These last few weeks can be best described as busy and hot. The long days of school, homework, studying, spending time with the family, and writing are starting to get the best of me. On top of the busy day-to-day life is the heat. For example, this morning it was 106 (41 Celsius) at 10am, and a high at midday was around 115 (45C). I'm hoping that it might cool down to 100 so that I can play soccer on Thursday without getting heat stoke.

My language learning continues to be challenging. I would love to say it has been rewarding since I've been here in Morocco, but unfortunately that is not the case. I am studying Modern Standard (or Classical) Arabic (FusHa) and Moroccans speak Moroccan Arabic (Darija). I wish I could say that Darija was just a close dialect of FusHa, but the more that I am here and the more I learn, I really believe they are two different languages. One of my Moroccan friends described Darija as "Arabic spoken with a really bad accent." On top of the difference in accents, many (or most) words in FusHa are not the same in Darija. It can be really frustrating when I learn a bunch of new verbs, nouns, and adjectives in the classroom, only to come home and not hear a single one spoken by my host family or on the streets. Of course, it was my choice to study FusHa over Darija and despite the frustration, I do not regret the decision. In other Arabic speaking countries such as Jordan, Lebanon, Egypt, or the Gulf, their dialects of Arabic are much closer to FusHa and someone speaking Darija will most likely not be understood by people in these countries. Therefore, I have to remember that it will pay off in the long run to have a strong foundation in FusHa instead of Darija.

Besides occupying my time with language study, I spent quite a bit of time at weddings last week. My host family was invited to a wedding last week in Meknes (about 45 min drive from Fes). Having heard so much about Moroccan weddings, I was thrilled at this special opportunity and even got myself a djellaba. Djellabas are long one-piece robes that usually have a hood. As the traditional dress of Morocco, I felt that it would be appropriate to wear a djellaba to the wedding. Mounia, her mom, her sister Sana, Sana's husband, their daughter Umeiema, and I drove to the wedding last wednesday. To my surprise, the wedding was quite boring. The six of us sat around and talked on the rooftop, where we waited until 11:30pm for the bride and groom to arrive at the house. Moroccan weddings differ between regions (even cities) and social classes. Umeiema, the 16 year old daughter of Sana, told me that weddings in Meknes were different than those of Fes, and I could tell in her tone that she had a strong preference towards weddings in Fes. Furthermore, this wedding was in a lower income neighborhood in Meknes and therefore, there were few people, little decorations, and the electricity continually shut off, sometimes for more than an hour. Once the bride and groom arrived, there was a bit of a celebration outside the house to welcome them in, but the party still did not meet my expectations. The highlight of the night was actually talking to the brother of the groom, Robin. The conversation began when I told him I was studying Arabic and having some difficulty with it. It wasn't like learning Spanish and even he agreed that Arabic was one of the hardest, if not the hardest, languages to learn. He spoke Arabic (Darija and FusHa), French, Spanish, English, and German fluently, and knew a bit of Italian. He asked if I was a Christian (I guess assuming that all people from America are Christians...?) and by answering yes, began a long discussion about the two faiths.

It was evident that Robin liked to talk... a lot! He was very outspoken and opinionated. He spoke English faster than I could and in my opinion, it was the most excitement going on at the wedding. Sana, Mounia, Umeiema, and grandma kept trying to get him to shut up (as not to bother me), but didn't mind. It was one of those situations where someone brings up one of the forbidden topics at the dinner table-- money, politics, or religion-- and everyone is uncomfortable except for the one or two engaged in the conversation. I guess that's how it was. He told me that he had read much of the Bible but expressed difficulty in understanding two things... 1). How Jesus could be the "Son" of God and 2). How Jesus could be God ("isn't he the son?") As you can imagine, this sparked some great conversation as we talked about God and language, especially in regards to the first concern. Language is an illustration of truth, it is not truth itself. Language is used to make a point, or illustrate a truth, but it is not perfect. In this case, there are a lot of connotations with language, especially with particular words, that can take away from truth. Jesus is the son of Mary. Both Robin and I agree on that. Jesus is the son of God. I stood alone on this claim. However, the word "son" in "son of God" is not the same "son" as "son of Mary". The problem is that Robin had trouble understanding this concept because to him, the definition of "son" is 100% objective and cannot be applied to the latter case ("son of God"). If "son" means a boy who is the product of a man having sex with a woman (you get the gist of the definition?), than the "son of God" means that God must have had sex with a woman to have Jesus. Many Christians would think that this is absurd because we have taken the term "son of God" for granted. However, it is critical that we look at the language used to illustrate truth. Can we really blame people for having difficult understand that Jesus was the "son" of God when we really dive into that? Also, it is worth mentioning the second concern about Jesus being God. Putting aside the "son of God" topic and discussing "Jesus as God" was also an issue incomprehensible. He expressed frustration and confusion in the idea of the Trinity, which was completely understandable. It wasn't the time to start explaining the trinity in the Cappadocian terms of God being one "ousia" (inner-being) and three "hypostases" (outer-being). Even this explanation can be problematic as it sounds as if there are separate parts of God, instead of these (3) hypostases and (1) ousia which are God. His simple metaphors of the trinity he shared with me such as, "someone can be a brother, a father, and a son all at the same time" didn't do it for him (neither does it do it for me), and all I could say was that God is bigger and beyond my ability to think or comprehend. The problem lies in the concept of trying to explain and describe an existence that is beyond ourselves. It is impossible and therefore unsatisfying to many people. The point of our conversation was not that he disproved Jesus as the "son of God" and I proved he was, or that he bashed the idea of a trinity while I argued for it, because neither of those happened. He questioned these things out of a desire to understand, not to talk me out of my faith in hopes that I would join his. It was a dialogue to critically look at the two faiths and make the most of this opportunity to interact and engage "the other" (me being a Christian and himself a Muslim). When talking about the purpose of man, he asked me, "what is the purpose of man? I answered, "To glorify God." He lit up and agreed, "Yes! To glorify God!" Despite the differences in the way we seek to glorify God with our lives, we can come together on that fundamental truth-- that our lives would earnestly seek to glorify our creator. And I cannot help but wonder, "what does this look like in the eyes of our creator?"

So, back to the wedding..... nothing too exciting happened besides some delicious food at 12:30am! Yup, dinner after midnight. I learned a few days later (at the other wedding I attended) that this was actually EARLY! After dinner, we decided to head back to Fes, as I has class the next morning and Mounia had to work. We said our goodbyes and headed to the car parked down the street. The time was just after 1am and there were kids playing a game of soccer in the street. There were about six kids, ages 6-12 (I assume) playing soccer in the street, being loud, getting in little quarrels, solving conflicts and disputes, and having a great time, all without a single parent in sight! It was amazing . The more I thought about it, the more I questioned the concept of safety. People ask me about safety in Morocco. This snapshot I have of kids playing soccer in the street in the middle of the night is so ironic because people are so scared of Morocco, or North Africa, or the Arab world, as if it were some evil place where violence and hatred is rampant. Yet, at 1am on a Wednesday night, the streets are still full of kids. Back in my upper-class suburban neighborhood in San Diego, there is not a single soul out at 1am (a little exageration), but there sure are not kids playing soccer by themselves (no parents around) in the streets!!! And even if kids wanted to go out and play soccer at 1am, I dont think that the parents would be too keen on the idea. Why? The first reason I guess would be "safety". "Its too late... It's not safe... There are a lot of dangerous people out this late" might be some of the responses from the concerned parents. The irony is that people assume "the other", or the unknown, (especially in the Arab world) is "not as safe as America" when in reality, that is far from the truth. With knowledge of, experience and interaction with "the other", we start to break down our stereotypes and misconceptions and begin to learn the reality of the world in which people really live. This is usually not a fun or easy process, but instead a painful paradigm shift that takes place within. I think Shakira's words, "I prefer an ugly truth to a beautiful lie" speak volumes. Although she was referencing the people of Colombia who live surrounded by a difficult reality, these words are relevant to those who are seeking truth. It is not always beautiful, but it is only truth that will set you free. Life is full of surprises and from my experience, it is the truths that are most difficult and shocking that are often the most important to accept.

Unfortunately, I am out of time to write about my wedding experience in Tangier (which was much more exciting than the one in Meknes, served dinner at 4am and went on until past 6am), meeting my good friend Taha at the airport in Tangier as he arrived back home after nearly 8 months overseas, and the other exciting things going on. I need to get back to my school work for APU (regarding Moroccan Family Organization) as well as a few Arabic assignments that need to be turned in tomorrow. I hope this update finds you well and may peace be upon you! Asalaama' Aleikum!

Ryan

A Lesson Learned

After waking up before 7am for five days straight, I'm ready to sleep in a little bit on the weekend. Saturday is my day to sleep in, but not this weekend. At 7:30, I was abruptly woken up by jackhammers outside my room (which is just a few feet off the street). I couldn't believe that the one day I want to sleep in, the jackhammers outside are braking cement, and the whole house is basically shaking. I did my best to get back to sleep, but I had to just accept that I wasn't going to get to sleep in this morning. A few hours later, I was eating breakfast upstairs when I heard Mounia call from the kitchen, "Ryan, ajii" ("Ryan, come"). She had prepared several platters which included bread, pastries, olives, dates, and a huge platter with 2 pots of tea along with several bottles of water. She had me help her take the food downstairs and take it to the workers who were working outside to repair the waterlines. They took a break from their jackhammers and shovels and came to accept the snacks with much gratitude. At first, in my selfish, Western, and frustrated mindset, I almost asked Mounia why she was giving them all this food. I mean, they woke ALL of us up at 7:30 with their jackhammers, they've made a mess of the streets and have given us headaches the past few days with all their noise and dust, and NOW you're giving THEM food? What are you thinking!?!?!

Since I couldn't take all the trays down to them in one trip, she made me take the rest while she stayed inside. She wasn't being rude, but culturally sensitive (can someone even be culturally sensitive in their own culture.... or are they just being themselves?) I assume that culturally, she didn't feel like it was a good idea to go take the food to them. She could have done it in several trips but instead she had me do it. If she were to serve the (all male) workers, she might be looked down upon by others in the neighborhood as this kind act of providing the workers with some food might have been portrayed as something more (if you catch my drift). When a single lady does something like this for a group of males, it may carry sexually-charged connotations... in this culture, in this situation.

So, I was making several trips out to the workers bringing them food, water, tea, and so forth. They were so appreciative and I brought smiles to their faces. Yet, I was completely humbled because not only was it NOT my idea to bring this food, they assumed that this was a gift from me and it wasn't. It was these very workers that I was frustrated at and wanted to have nothing to do with. After all, they woke me up with their noisy equipment at 7:30 and I didn't get to sleep in (poor me). I felt completely unworthy to be serving this food when I had such animosity, or frustration, toward them. I learned a lot in this simple act of service. Never could I imagine myself, or someone else, taking refreshments and snacks out to some construction workers back in the States who were working with jackhammers at 7:30 on a Saturday morning in my neighborhood. For Mounia, there was no question of if she should bring them something to eat and drink. The question was how much can she bring them so that they are full and content; not tired, hungry, or thirsty. I will never forget this simple, yet powerful, act of service. May we all learn from this simple act. Would the world not be a better place if we took the time to serve our enemies (this morning at 7:30, they were my enemies!)? I think Jesus said something along those lines....