The Holidays in Marrakesh: Thanksgiving, Agadir, and Christmas

If you ever find yourself in Marrakesh, be sure to spend an evening watching the sunset. When the sun sinks over the soft pink brick buildings, the sky turns into a tapestry of rich reds and deep blues shot through with streaks of pale pink and yellow. The red glow lingers over the city, and Marrakshis call this moment al-Hamra.  From the roof of my house, the sunset is spectacular. We live on the outskirts of the city, so there is an unimpeded view of the high peaks of the Atlas Moutains rising over the buildings in the south. The snowcapped peaks glint in the last rays of the sunlight, and the city begins to stir with the deep tones of the sunset call to prayer carrying over the city from the mosques. In the evening of the clear, cool winter days, the warmth of the mid-afternoon sunlight lingers in the air. The city is alive with children leaving school, crowds of students walking towards the universities, and the constant hum of chatter and bargaining.When the sun finally sinks behind a minaret on the western side of the city, the palm trees are silhouetted against the deep red clouds of al-Hamra. On every clear night that I arrive home before sunset, I climb the rickety ladder to the uppermost terrace of our roof and watch darkness fall over the city, sitting in silence or with Yassir by my side as the first stars come out.

The past month has been extraordinarily busy, extraordinarily amazing, and extraordinarily hard all at once. Between my Arabic finals, extracurricular work, and running, I’ve had very little free time. It has been hard missing the holidays at home, and I’ve definitely had some moments in the past month when homesickness has hit me hard. The worst part of an exchange is supposed to be the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I think that from here on out my experience in Morocco will only get better. As I write this, my family is on their way to Casablanca, and I am so excited to be reunited with them.

Since I last wrote, I have traveled quite a bit and had some wonderful experiences in Marrakesh. At the beginning of November, all the Americans and our host siblings traveled to Agadir, a coastal town in the South that is a popular vacation spot for Moroccans in the summer. Zineb and I shared a room with Isobel and her host sister Obour, and we had really nice trip. The first day, Katie, John, Seth, and I went to the beach (without any Moroccans – they all thought we were crazy for swimming in the 65 degree rain) and swam in the surf. The waves were incredible, and we spent more than an hour in the warm water bodysurfing and swimming. We got out of the ocean when we saw lightning strike far out in the distance, and as we gathered out clothes the skies opened up. We quickly bundled in our towels and ran back to the hotel as the rain turned to hail. Crowds of tourists were hurrying into shops and restaurants next to the beach, and we ran through the masses laughing and soaked. We slipped our way up the long walkway to the beach, barely able to see in the heavy blinding rain and pelted with small hail.   At the hotel, our host siblings were all sitting in the lobby, and we arrived soaking wet and barefoot, clad in dripping towels and barely able to breathe from our sprint inside and laughter.

My friend Katie and I in Agadir during the hailstorm

The rest of the vacation in Agadir was wonderful. We went to a talk about using fog nets to irrigate crops and bring water to villages in rural Morocco, a technology that I found absolutely fascinating. Seth and I went for a run one of the mornings and swam more in the incredible waves.  Zineb and I went to the zoo with two of the other host siblings, Ayoub and Yazid. It was really nice having our host siblings along on the trip, and I loved the opportunity to get to know some of them better. It is really hard to meet other Moroccans my age here, and having three days where I was eating every meal and spending all my time with all the host siblings was a great opportunity to make some new friends.

Zineb, some other Moroccan host siblings, and I on the top of a bluff overlooking Agadir on our last day there

The week after our trip to Agadir, Zineb, Oumaima, Yassir, and I celebrated Thanksgiving (in Arabic, Eid al-Shokr or عيد الشكر) at the CLC. Everyone brought food and Mama Khadija, the cook and my cooking teacher at the CLC, made an amazing turkey. All the Americans, the director of the CLC and his family, and most of our host siblings came, and we ate buffet-style in the beautiful salon. The tables were laden with traditional Thanksgiving food – we made turkey, gravy, smooth mashed potatoes, delicious cider, macaroni, and some incredible desserts. The room was full of light and laughter. After we ate, we sat in a circle and shared what we were thankful for and everyone headed out to the CLC’s basketball court for a pickup game. I was so happy that we managed to celebrate and make the day feel so festive, and I’m glad my host siblings got to experience Thanksgiving. The next day, as is tradition in the Miller family, I bought a little fake Christmas tree and some ornaments and lights, and my host siblings helped me decorate my room for Christmas. It was very cool setting up my Christmas tree with a girl wearing hijab, and it’s been very interesting, especially this holiday season, discussing religion and traditions with Zineb. She recently started wearing hijab for various reasons, and it’s been fascinating talking to her about her choice to do so and about the symbolism and misconceptions surrounding the headscarf.

Zineb, Yassir, and I in our garden on the way to Thanksgiving at the CLC -- we made green beans (my usual Thanksgiving contribution!) and a coffee-chocolate cake

Yassir and Youssef, the son of the director of the CLC, at Thanksgiving -- they are too cute

Zineb and I next to my mini Christmas tree, complete with fake snow and lights

In between Thankgiving and Christmas, my host sisters and I have gone out in the evenings together quite a bit. Since Zineb put on the hijab and gained confidence driving, she feels far more comfortable going places at night. We have gone to various rooftop cafes overlooking Djemma al-Fna to watch the people below as night falls over the bustling square.  Down below in the crowds, my sisters helped me go Christmas shopping for my friends and family. We sat on rickety stools and ate boiled snails in a steaming salty broth to ward off the chill of the desert night, and drank a red tea so spicy and rich in flavor that it warmed me to the core. There are many street food stands in the square, and whenever we go out we normally end up eating the cheap, delicious ground meat sandwiches they sell. Under brightly painted awnings strung with bare lightbulbs, vendors hawk their meals to the crowds, beckoning people in and pointing them to seats on long metal benches. Within a matter of minutes, a man piles a steaming heap of ground meat (called kefta) filled with onions and spices on an old plate in front of you. They  toss you hunks of bread and slide bowls of cold tomato sauce to you across the tabletops, providing you with all the ingredients for a delicious kefta sandwich. Everyone sitting at the stalls is usually Moroccan, since tourists usually opt for the pricier rooftop restaurants lining the square.  Although Djemma al Fna is, to an extent, a tourist trap, the square is still filled with a majority of Moroccans most nights, and I love going with my host sisters and experiencing the night there the way they do.  This month, the Marrakesh International Film Festival and the FIFA Club World Cup Tournamet were in the city, and Marrakesh was even more lively than usual in the nighttime. My sisters and I went to some of the events – we saw a Bollywood movie on the giant screen the erected in Djemma al-Fna, and on the night of the final soccer match in the tournament we went to the Fan-zone in Gueliz Plaza to watch Real Madrid play on the big screen over the fountain. All the boys in Marrakesh love soccer, and the city has never felt more exciting than it did that night. I’ve also started spending some time with Oumaima’s friends, and it’s nice being able to expand the circle of people I know here and have a crew to spend time with some weekend nights.

Zineb and I at a rooftop cafe in Djemma al-Fna

Oumaima and I outside the Marrakesh International Film Festival

Of course, not everything at night here has been fun. Harassment is still a major problem on the streets here, and when it’s dark out I often am a little nervous on the street. As one of my friends put it, I watch the shadows behind me when I walk in Marrakesh. I’ve never been overly concerned for my personal safety, but I would be lying if I said there wasn’t an element of uncertainty and fear sometimes on the street. The worst part about the situation is that as a girl, there is absolutely nothing you can do to defend yourself against any attack, no matter what level of sinister. One of the nights that I went out with Oumaima and Zineb, we asked a man to take our picture in front of the Koutoubiya mosque. It was a beautiful, clear Friday night, and we were so excited to be out of the house and in the bustling medina. However, as we smiled for the picture, a group of high school boys walked by and one of them groped Oumaima, That kind of conduct is obviously not acceptable anywhere, but especially for Oumaima, a 16-year-old Muslim girl who won’t even wear tight pants if she isn’t covered by her shirt, this was a really disturbing act. She jolted and started to cry, and Zineb stood there looking at her little sister as she processed what had happened. I saw her face turn with an anger I had never seen before, and she let out a scream of frustration so guttural and angry that I do not think I will forget the way it sounded for a long time. She threw down the water bottle she was holding in her hand, sending water spouting up into the air as the plastic crumpled on the pavement, and pursued the boys across the square next to the mosque screaming at them in rapid Arabic. The boys kept walking, completely unphased, and disappeared into an alleyway. Zineb strode off after them, and then slowly stopped and turned around ,walking back towards us defeatedly as she realized that there was truly nothing she could do. She couldn’t stop them, she couldn’t punish them, and she couldn’t even shame them. I find the harassment on the street here very annoying, but a the end of the day I am living here for 8 months. Zineb and Oumaima have lived with this their whole lives, and will continue to see it in their own lives and the lives of their daughters in the years to come. Many people in Morocco are unwilling to talk about this harassment and recognize how dangerous it is, and how it threatens to ruin the lifestyles of girls like Zineb with big dreams. That moment in front of the Koutoubiya is representative of the harassment here and its consequences, and for better or for worse remains one of my strongest memories from the fall here.

At the CLC, the last month was a busy one. I finished my first semester of Arabic with good marks, and I’m really happy with how far I’ve progressed in Darija (dialectal Arabic) and classical Arabic. I can now carry on a basic conversation, and I am usually able to convey almost anything I need to, even if not in the most eloquent of ways. I also finished my TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) training, and I am now ready to start teaching my own class of beginning students in January through a program called CLC Connect. CLC Connect offers full scholarships to underprivileged Moroccan students to study in classes taught by the NSLI-Y students. I will have a class of young teenagers with extremely limited English experience for a total of thirty hours (three hours once a week) over the next semester.

My cooking teacher and the chef for the CLC, Mama Khadija. She taught me how to cook Moroccan dishes once a week last semester and I loved getting to know her!

Last Sunday, I continued my marathon training with my longest run yet, an 18-miler. Seth ran with me for the first part around the medina walls. We ran the 10 miles around the outside of the old city, following the ancient rose-colored wall on the Circuit du Mille et Une Portes (Route of A Thousand and One Doors, referring to the numerous intricate gates through the wall in to the old city). As we rounded the corners of the medina, there were incredible views of the snowcapped mountains and sweeping plains to the south. There were pickup soccer games on every dirt patch beside the walls, and as the sun rose higher in the sky the sidewalks came alive with energetic, happy Marrakshis on their way to cafes and soccer matches. We ran on the shaded road past dog-walkers through the Agdal Gardens, an expansive walled-in garden of olive trees and flowers. I had never seen many of the parts of medina that we ran by before, and I love being able to explore Marrakesh on foot like this. The marathon is in a little less than a month, and I’m feeling good about it!

This post has been a bit long-winded and my train is pulling in to Casablanca right now, so I will write about Christmas and our amazing trip to the small beach town of Essaouira in my next post. Merry Christmas to you all!