Kul!

Is it March already?  Time is always strange like that: the weeks feel endlessly long yet insanely short at the same time.  We have learned the phrase, “I will adjust” in Darija, and it proves to be helpful both to say and to remember from time to time.

One thing we are adjusting to is the amount of food we eat each day.  There is breakfast: bread, olive oil, and coffee.  Lunch happens around 1pm: usually some sort of tagine or lentils served with a salad or French-fries (or any sort of fried vegetable).  The main dish is eaten out of a common plate with bread instead of forks.  Delicious, homemade bread.  Kas-Krut (snack) is one the highlights of my day.  It’s usually served around 5-6pm.  Typically, we drink sweet mint tea and eat more bread (mlwi or hersha (sort of like cornbread) or anything else delicious and home made).  Finally, around 8 or 9pm, we eat dinner.  This meal is smaller than lunch, and we often eat something like spaghetti (made with ground lamb) or noodles with hot milk (which, on a cold day, is way more tasty than it sounds).  Every meal is served with olives, and fruit is offered as dessert.

The most important thing to mention about food, though, is the enthusiasm in which our host mother shares it with us.  The word she says the most is “Kul!” which  translates to “Eat!” and sounds like "cool!"  She says it incessantly.  We never eat enough to satisfy her.  Here is how our table conversation usually goes as we are wrapping up a meal.  Mind you, we are speaking entirely in broken Darija:

Host mom: “Kul!”

Britt: “I’m full, thanks be to God.”

Host mom: “Kul!”

Britt: “No thank you.  I’m full.”

Pete: “Yes, me too. I’m full, thanks be to God.”

Host mom: “Kul!”

Britt: “You eat.  I’m full!”

Host mom: “You are not full!  Kul!  Eat more bread!”

Pete: “No thank you.  I’m full!”

Host mom (gets up from table to get more bread from kitchen): “You are not full. Kul!”

We force ourselves to eat a few more bites.  We understand that her fierce desire to feed us is a way she can shows us she cares about us when language just doesn’t exists, but it can be overwhelming at times.  Take, for example, yesterday’s conversation at kas-krut:

Host mom:  “Britt, kul!”

Britt: “No thank you!  It’s enough.”

Host mom: “No, kul!”

Britt: “I’m full, thanks be to God. “

Host mom: “Full?  What did you eat this afternoon?!  Kul!”

Britt: “No! Lunch.  You. Good food.  I ate a lot.”

Host mom: “You went to the hanut!” (a hanut is like a snack stand, sort of)

Britt: “No!  I ate a lot today.  Lunch.  Later, dinner.  I like dinner.  Little kas-krut.  Later, dinner.”

Host mom: “I will see you if you go to the hanut!  Kul!”

Britt (sighs and tears a small piece of bread): “No hanut.  Good food our house.”

And it’s true.  The food is so, so good.  So we roll up our sleeves and dip more bread in the platter.  We go for morning runs as often as we can stand it (it’s cold!), and I try to watch our host mother cook in the kitchen so I will be able to prepare meals for us when we live on our own.

If you were worried for a second about us being so far from home, know that we are well-fed and well looked-after.   We are lucky to live with such a patient host family, and we feel so lucky to have each other.

Right now, it’s time to go “Kul.”  Again.  Thanks be to God.

Also, a smattering of photos from our past few weeks!

A beautiful walk home from school:

Sometimes we hang out with cute kids:

Check out how excited Pete looks!

Sometimes we eat outside:

Sometimes we perform for our host family. Good thing we have two years to practice!