Special Guests

We ate dinner withTaxi-Man, and his family. There is no experience to compare it too, other than being royalty or something, I guess. (names are in code, BTW)

We arrived in Skye's douar (neighborhood) in the evening. It is a long, long drive from Marrakech. She often referred in her blog of taking the taxi drive to a town in Tiznit province, a nearby city-ish type of community, where the internet cafe is, and better shopping. It's like Skye lives in Smoot and this town is Idaho Falls and there is no Afton. We had stopped in there to get a few vegetables, check her mail and do cyber-cafe, and then we headed up into the hills to her home. I'll have to post some photos when we get back home where I can do it better, so it will be hard to describe her house without them. Most houses there are two-story, with the bottom floor being a large garage, or a place where you can put your shop, or your cow. Then you climb the steep cement stairs up and around to the living quarters. Also cement floors--that's why there are so many lovely rugs in all the shops. Skye's house is, ummm...basic. "But," she revels, "I have a faucet! and my toilet flushes." And she does have a refrigerator and sink, also with faucet. Her toilet is a squat toilet--tiled hole in the floor with places where you place your feet and then--well--squat--then you pour the bucket down it and it goes into a cesspool arrangement under the house. It does not smell, but it takes a little getting used to. But it beats the calf pen in the middle of the milking barn!!

We changed into our long skirts--the girls did--and we drove up to Taxi Man's house. We were met in the front by a neighbor boy who was daring enough to greet us, then several other neighbor women and some children greeted me, but immediately evaporated at the sight of Mustach (Cool Guy's new name in Morocco--all the street vendors call this out to him.) We entered the courtyard of Taxi-Man's house and it was the royal treatment from that moment on.

Grandfather met us--hand kissing, bowing, grandma met me (too shy to greet Cool Guy) handkissing, cheek kissing, bowing, asalaam alaykums all around. The mom met us and kissed cheeks, she was brave enough to greet Cool Guy, the 14 year old daughter, met us, we were invited into the kitchen where she was chopping onions for our tajine dinner. Grandpa went to another room to watch t.v.--loud t.v. because he is mostly deaf--the 7 year old son came into the living room with us, and Skye, Cool Guy, me and Taxi-Man sat on pillows and talked. All through this whole scene of greetings, there was the two year old girl like a little whirlwind zipping around, chattering, greeting, hollering, snatching stuff from people--acting like a two year old!! Once she was showing off a pretty scarf (the mom, grandma and daughter all wore an inside head wrap--it covers your hair but not your face) but Whirlwind doesn't wear anything on her curly black hair that was pulled back into little pigtails. But when she dropped the scarf on the floor near me and I picked it up and started arranging it on my head---THAT was the wrong thing to do. She immediately burst into tears and stood by her dad wailing and pointing, "Whirlwind's (some word in Tashelheit I don't know)!!!" It was a crisis till I gave it back. Whew.

I started blowing bubbles (I brought several bottles) and that smoothed things over a bit. Then Skye spoke for me while I gave Whirlwind a stuffed duck, her brother and cousin (a little cousin from the way outback living with them so he can go to school) and the big sister all got zipper bags with a few pencils, pens, and some stickers and a post-it pad in them. Hugely popular!! Especially with the country cousin who Skye loves and says is so shy and loves every little bitty thing anyone gives him because everything is a novelty.

Then, the ladies brought out the party clothes and Cool Guy and I were dressed in the regalia--silver headwear, necklaces, embroidered skirts and veils, etc. etc. Cool Guy mostly got to wear the long man gown called a jalabba. Then we took photos, and Skye explained how this was the normal dress for the endless stream of special holidays and feasts constantly being held. Taxi-Man pointed out that his wife has embroidered all the fancy work on the clothing and it is yet being embellished as the years go by. It's impressive.

We were first served bread from the clay oven with condiments like honey, oil, and a nutty tasting dip from argon oil and ground nuts. Then we were served tajine---a little clay casserole-like dish with a cover. The onions, peas, tomatoes and other flavors are laid in the bottom, then tiny meatballs were put over that and then the heavy lid is put on it and it is placed in the oven to cook. It was very lean and tasty beef. We ate it by scooping up from our section a mouthful with a little chunk of bread. We were offered citron soda (just like Squirt) or Coke. Skye says this was an ultra-special occasion, she's never been served soda at his house. Desert was slices of melon, or oranges and apples that we cut and peeled ourselves. We were paunched. Mom and sister served us but didn't eat with us, only the one brother. The rest were too shy to eat with Cool Guy and Whirlwind had burned herself into the ground like only a two year can, and was in bed asleep.

We ate sitting on our pillows, from a short round table that afterward was cleaned up and stacked back up in the corner on another one like it. They also have a china cabinet piece of furniture in this room, where mom put away all the fancy clothes, and the serving trays. But the rest of the furnishings are carpets, and pillows with pictures on the wall. One of the pictures is a Muslim representation of the lineage of religion, basically. It is a tree, with the root being Adam, then he read us the names as he pointed up the trunk and out onto the branching limbs. Noah, Moses, Abrahim--then it branched off in a fork--Ishmael and Mohammed are on that side and David, Solomon and Jesus are the other side. All the great prophets from which we can all learn.

Taxi-Man spent a lot of time waxing philosophical about religion, world peace, the brotherhood of mankind, what a wonderful daughter we have, what great parents we are, how welcome we are to come to his home anytime, and if he came to America he was likewise welcomed to our home we assured him. He explained that we had no need to ever worry about Skye, he protected her like his own daughter. (And she concurred.)

We also received two lovely gifts: a beautiful silver tray with little ball feet that is very elaborate with designs and cutwork from the duar association whom Skye has been assisting in their quest to build a community sewer system. They got the grant money and it is being built even as we speak--it more of a large soak basin that will last for many many years and prevent sewage from going into the river, which is a source for many to wash clothes, and bath. The "river" is currently a dry bed right now--no rain this year. This makes the sewage drain basin even more critical, because now the sewage just sits there, instead of being washed down the river and diluted. The other gift was shoes for us---the cool red and yellow Moroccan shoes, mine are even embroidered with elaborate colors. My large American feet defeated this gift...but the shoes will stretch Taxi-Man assured me, and I intend to stretch them because they're pretty cool.

Okay, we finally got all of our greetings accomplished and we left, you can see every star in the sky there---no yard lights! We went back to Skye's house, sat up on the roof for a while and admired the stars and heard the dogs howl and slept until we were awakened by the 4:30 A.M. Call to Prayer at the mosque just down the street. Then the street got very busy with donkey carts, and trucks and taxis because Monday is market day there. Only men go to market, BTW, in this little area. And they sit outside along the street and talk loudly, too. The school is just around the corner from her house and the kids were yelling and playing just like kids do everywhere. So foreign and yet so similar. We packed up and headed back out to the city of Essouraira where we are now---about five hour drive from her place. It's on the ocean and tomorrow we'll go up to Casablanca to get on the plane for Spain.

We're shopping and this afternoon we're going to the public baths. Then, later, the French Organic Restaurant for supper. Periodically I do a reality check---Eek! Morocco!! Like last night when we came out of the restaurant: it was dark, we're in the medina (the old walled city) and so all the doorways are arches. We stepped from the lighted restaurant into the cobble-stone alley and a shadow came along the opposing alley and across that doorway passed a women completely obscurred in veils and wraps. She went by quietly and we kept walking through the walled paths until we came to a large blue door, for which we had the key, and went in to climb four flights of steep brick stairs to the little patio where our rooms are, overlooking a battery of cannons from 1760 lining the wall along the edge of the sea. The surf is crashing in thunderous blows and the wind is blowing, but you can see some stars. Way cool---I'm having a good time.