Sunday, February 2, 2014

Saying goodbye

We've been back home about a week, and it's strange to say the least.  In Morocco, it was very clear that we were outsiders.  Our dear Moroccan friends expected us to make mistakes: to kiss too many times during a greeting, to be confused about how to order chicken, to buy the wrong kind of soap for the public bath.  Here, even though I feel entirely like an outsider, people expect us to behave like regular people, insiders.  I'm not supposed to linger in front of the yogurt selection at the grocery store, mouth gaping at the variety, the choices.  I can understand the conversations around me, and strangers expect me to respond if they ask me a question (I've gotten fairly used to just shrugging my shoulders and walking away).  Transitions are always hard, and we know that with time we will get our feet back under us.  Until then, we are grateful for the patience and kindness our family and friends have shown us.  And, in the meantime, we're happily enjoying our nephew and our brand-new baby niece.

We wanted to share a few more photos of our last weeks in Morocco.  After we told our friends that we would be leaving, they went out of their way to send us off feeling loved and appreciated.  Our friend Fatima started weaving through the night, and with the help of her sweet sister, she managed to complete an entire rug as a parting gift.













Fatima also arranged another henna party.  This time, though, I was the only one getting henna-d.  She painted my feet in the traditional Berber fashion.  My toes will be henna-orange for many, many weeks.





Knowing how much we love msmen, Malika made it for us several times in our final weeks.  







Malika, Firdous, Sana, and I enjoy the roof after lots of msmsen.


The Friday before we left, we arranged to host a big farewell couscous party with many of our friends.  The cooking started at 11am.  By 3pm, we had 3 kilos of steaming couscous tifaya and about 15 friends around two tables.  Once the food was gone, we grabbed pots and pans and started singing a mix of Arabic and Tashelhit songs.  You can click the image below to hear a snippet of the sing-along.














Our host mother wanted to celebrate our birthdays on our last night in town since we wouldn't be able to do that together later in the year.  She also sewed us bags full of gifts: embroidered sheets, teapot covers, and aprons.  With the help of her English-speaking son, she managed to embroider an apron for me that reads, "I love you." Her kindness was touching, and the goodbyes were painful.


Our birthday cake.

Family portrait.

The goodbye process was heart-breaking as our new friends were the best part of our experience in Morocco.  When we announced we were leaving, I shared with them that I truly believed we would never be far apart.  "My heart will always be close to your heart," I explained, "So no matter how far away we are, our hearts will always be together."  Except the Moroccan Arabic word for "heart" is very close to the word for "dog."  So go ahead and make those substitutions in my emotional speech.  Try not to laugh too hard.

We hope to share a few more photos and stories on the blog as we continue to transition home.  In the meantime, know we are grateful for your patience with us.  And know that my dog will always be close to your dog.


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