Oued Oum er Rbia

I finally went swimming yesterday! It was glorious and I am a bit jealous that my friend Tori can walk to the river whenever she wants. Tori lives just north of Khenifra, outside Mrirt in a small, agricultural community. I visited her and her host family yesterday and went went for a swim. Getting to the swimming was interesting, though.

I met Tori in Mrirt and we took a transit bus to her village. It was packed to the gills and these 2 boys kept asking us if we were going swimming and if they could have a couple Dirhams. We made the mistake of telling them we were going swimming because then they wanted to join us. We firmly told them no and thankfully, they got off well before we did. When we got to Tori's house, her host mom, Shumisha wanted to make tea, but we were anxious to get swimming so agreed to have tea afterwards.

We walked/hiked/slid through the fields and along a path to get to the river, but found the spot Tori swam last time to be overrun with young men. She knew of another spot further downstream, so we headed in that direction. Our walk was accompanied by the sounds of “Bonjour,” “You want to swim?” and plenty of stares. Just as we were spreading our towels on a rock and looking around to make sure we were alone, 2 young men emerged from the path and joined us. They were probably in their late teens or early 20's and spoke a little English. They wanted to join us for a swim, which we tried to decline, but they weren't taking a hint, In addition to simply wanting to be by ourselves, it would have been very inappropriate for us to swim with Moroccan men.

One young man was wearing his white boxer briefs and matching white Crocs; the other a looser pair of shorts – no shirts, no modesty that we could very clearly see their “family jewels,” and they seemed completely oblivious to the fact that we were uncomfortable with their presence. They encouraged us to jump in the river with them and one of them even jumped in to show us everything was OK. We continued to decline and increasingly, just ignored them. They finally took a hint and left, leaving Tori and I marveling at a society in which many women won't leave the house without their head covered, but men can walk around in their underwear.

We enjoyed the rest of our swim – the current was fast so we had to jump in and then swim as fast as we could to the edge. It was a rush and a welcome relief from the heat. We went back to Tori's house and lingered a bit too long over tea because we missed the last transit back to Mrirt, where we were going to meet Anna and Ian to make dinner and spend the night at Anna's.

We walked out to the road and waited a while, expecting one to come at any minute. I was sitting on a rock close to the ground when a herd of sheep and goats passed. We were talking and watching them walk by when a black goat at the end of the group strayed and approached me. I naturally said hello and he stared at me for a minute before rubbing his head against my shoulder. I was completely taken aback and busted up laughing, while the goat sniffed my bag. He lost interest and quickly joined the rest of the herd, leaving Tori and I laughing rather hysterically.

In the mean time, her host mom and aunt watched us from afar, waiting for us to admit defeat and come back to the house. It seemed like they were watching from a distance so that we wouldn't notice because as soon as we started to walk back, they scurried into the house and were seemingly going about their business when we got back. Like almost every Moroccan mother I've met, Tori's was concerned with how much dinner we ate. We were eating sharia, the spaghetti noodles with a creamy sauce, but everyone had their own individual bowls. Once Tori and I finished our first ones, Shumisha wanted to fill them up again. Tori asked for a half bowl and I tried to explain how nice it was to get something only half-filled because in my host family, you always get a full glass of tea even if you ask for half. Shumisha jumped on this and said that if that was the way it was in my house, she would fill up our bowls because she wanted me to feel at home!

We spent the night at Tori's and got up early the next day to go to Azrou, because one of the volunteers was having a get together so the new volunteers could meet the other volunteers in the area. Sharon definitely lived up to her reputation as the Martha Stewart of the Middle Atlas Mountains! She has a beautiful apartment and prepared quite a spread of food. There were quite a few volunteers and it was a nice day.

I traveled back to Khenifra with Linda, a small business volunteer who lives there. I misjudged when the last taxis to my site would leave and missed the last one, so I spent the night at Linda's. She is a lovely host and is endlessly inspiring. In her 60's, she is an “older” volunteer, but is still young at heart. There is something in Linda that reminds me of my Grandmom, but I haven't quite placed it. It is something beyond the obvious.