Sunday, April 5, 2009

wahed, jooj... baraka

This weekend, I was restricted to life on campus again due to choir practice in preparation for our trip to Marrakech in 2 weeks to participate in a national music festival. While the music festival will be great, I was not too happy about staying in Ifrane again. Luckily, I was able to travel to Azrou Friday afternoon for the night. Azrou is 20 minutes south of Ifrane, is a bigger town and is actually Moroccan, instead of a shi-shi wanna-be Swiss village. I loved it. Azrou is nestled in the Middle Atlas mountains and is absolutely gorgeous. The pace of life is slow and tourists are slim to none.

After watching the sun set against the rolling hills, we wandered into a young guy who asked us if we liked to hike. Exploring nature is a popular activity around here and is the main reason that tourists come into Azrou, besides the little monkeys and cedar forests. He was very earnest and didnt push his business on us and we obliged to see some of his pictures of the places he guides trips. I was with another exchange student who makes friends with just about everyone he meets and soon enough, we were invited into this man's home to share a tagine with him and his friends. We each put in 15 Dirhams and he came back with bread, tomatos, ground beef, and eggs. Kefta tagine (see picture below of a delicious kefta tagine i consumed in Marrakech)! After some tea, I went into the kitchen to learn the tricks of the trade while Morgan, the other exchange, practiced his arabic and picked up some good Moroccan music.

Making kefta tagine is just another culture's approach to Italian sauce and meatballs. You start out with some tomatoes and simmer them into a sauce with some oil, garlic, and spices in your tagine over a flame or coals. Then you make little meatballs or clumps of the beef, which has onion, garlic, and other spices mixed in... usually by the butcher. Side note on butchers in Morocco that my tagine instructor Aziz told me: butchers are the trickest guys in Morocco, even ones who are your friends will cheat you. He didnt really say how you get aroudn this but i guess its just something you accept as a way of life here. seriously though, are you really going to call out someone with knives that can cut through bone and machines that grind pieces of meat into tiny little grains for over charging you a few dirhams (50 cents)? didnt think so. Back to the tagine. once the meat has cooked, you crack a couple eggs on top, wait a few minutes then serve. simple and quick. and for all those poor college students out there, this meal, minus the meat, is the Moroccan version of a can of beans and some hot dogs. (or maybe that is just a Zarker thing....).

Aziz also taught me some more tricks of the trade, like the right spices for each type of meat and their various cooking times. While he enjoys cooking , he told me that he rarely cooks since he got married. Not only was our tagine incredible, but we filled up 7 people with less than an hour in total preperation and cook time. Even though it might sound crazy taht we went into this random guy's house for dinner, it was completely safe, he was so nice, and both Morgan and I learned so much from just the night with Zakaria and his friends. Hopefully, we will have time to go on a small trip with Zakaria to explore these mountains a bit. He even offered us a student rate!

I forgot to talk about the title of this entry. In addition to Zakaria, Morgan befriended a carpet and trinket salesman in the backstreets of Azrou. He was very nice and played us some great music. Because Morgan is trying to speak the Moroccan diriga, all moroccans love him. Therefore, when in situations where language is often a barrier, he is able to connect, although at a very basic level. Even though my french and very, very simplified sayings in diriga are helpful and allow me to communicate with almost anyone here, being able to have a simple conversation is worth SO MUCH to Moroccans. Therefore, Mohammed, our carpet salesman friend, brought out some tea, taught us some good phrases, sold Morgan a Berber rug. He was a very happy man, with very few teeth left. He told us about his family and that he had one son but his wife was pregnant with another child. "Wahed, jooj... baraka" translates into "one, two... that's it". It was one of those moments where language isnt really an issue to communicate the idea and connect with someone at a very human level. Mohammed invited us back to his store, just to talk as friends, next time we are in Azrou. Zakaria also told us that next time we are in Azrou, we dont need to get a hotel because we are welcome at his home.

The weekend of singing wasnt as bad as it sounded. We are singing songs in Italian, Croatian, Arabic, Spanish, and English. One of them is even a Gnaoua song (very traditional Moroccan music that is impossible to find the beat if you are Western but still incredible fun to listen to). Most people in the choir cant read music so the learning process is pretty slow but it is still fun to sing with a group of people and I have met some good friends.

I cant believe I have been here for 4 months. and that I come home 3. I miss you all lots and lots and love you bzzzzef. I leave you with a picture of a mosque we stumbled across in Essourira one night... lined with Christmas lights. It was really beautiful even though a little odd. I love this country.

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