Ramadan Continued

I am getting really sick of Pizza Hut and Mc Donalds, and KFC. I feel a personal connection with the staff and the other diners at these fine American establishments. What do they have in common other than being American fast food joints? They are the only restaurants open during the day during Ramadan. I don’t even have to tell the lady at Pizza Hut what I want anymore, she just knows. I smile at the other customers, usually French or Sub Saharan Africans, as we see each other almost daily, same time, same place, same order, for lunch. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.

I walk around Casa one weekend to check out the Hassan II mosque and I am parched. It is a sickening 88 degrees raging with humidity and I just can’t bear being outside anymore without being able to drink water. I guess if I looked more like a tourist and less Moroccan I would be less offensive. But I still do not want to drink water in front of others. So of course, like clockwork, I go to Pizza Hut, eat lunch (usually the salad bar, as the thought of eating pizza daily totally disgusts me).

Then I realize the lack of food options and further more places to eat food makes me miss home. I get annoyed that I can’t just buy similar frozen or pre-prepared items that I normally buy in the States that I also managed to find similar versions of in France and Dubai when I lived there. But this is all part of the trials and tribulations of being abroad, away from home..blah blah. A week later at work, I am doing research on the agro-industry sector of Morocco and everything clicks. There in plain text, in a thick 200 page report on the state of the Moroccan economy. Therein lays the answer to my annoyance; as to why there isn’t a demand for such products and why it is so difficult for the sector to flourish here. I find this rather amusing and subsequently forget about my annoyance, satisfied with the answers provided.

It is hard to stop things that are second nature, or subconscious to our being. For example to chew a piece of gum, or to drink from a bottle that is held in my hand. There are the cultural differences and shocks that one must get used to.

Though I may talk a lot about my frustrations, I have enjoyed the time here as well. As I am not fasting, I treat Ramadan as a time for reflection. A friend of mine that had worked with me in Dubai last summer decided to give up sweets during this time, thus being my inspiration to use it as a reflection period. Sharing iftar with my Moroccan host family every day is something phenomenal. The typical meal consists of dates, harira (lentil soup), chabekia (something to the effect of jalebi), eggs, bread, etc. 

To just feel as I am part of this whole month and see how the city is transformed is quite wonderful. After iftar, the streets are flooded, the malls are open and the city of Casablanca is alive. I am confused to see malls open at midnite, and people shopping for clothes. As I sit in a taxi at 11pm to meet a friend, I see people getting their hair cut. I am perplexed and astonished, but that is life here, and now. People really don’t sleep at all. Perhaps the one time every year that Arab cities around the world resemble the city that never sleeps.