My doorbell makes the sound of birds. Despite my relatively newfound comfort in my adoptive country, I still have an irrational hesitation to go to the door when the doorbell rings. Let's just say my personal space is very important to me.
My landlord's brother showed up at the ungodly hour of 8:00am today, the last day of my precious weekend, wherein I intended to spend all day sleeping. First I heard the birds and awoke stiff in bed, a look of horror no doubt frozen on my face. I stayed put, clinging to my new favorite, "If it's important, they'll call/come back." But, my house has an outside door and an inside door, both of which I lock at night. The doorbell is next to the outside door. After the ringing and a two minute reprise, I heard knocking on the inside door
. So, despite my horror, I knew it was the landlord's brother, who fixes things. But I was wearing shorts and a brassiere
, yet another instant of the constant challenge of having to cover up one's shame in order to interact with the outside world (not just pertinent to Muslim countries you will note).
I took my time putting on my muumuu. Then went to the window. There he was next to his motorbike wearing his trademark beanie. He made the symbol for "sleeping?" I nodded, but told him to come in.
He puttered around and I casually swept ahead of him gathering things such as gin bottles and balls of cat fur. Then I made coffee. Now, in Moroccan culture, when someone shows up to your house, especially at a meal time, you're supposed to offer them food. I know I'm exempt from everything really, but it was nice of this man to come, even if it was at 8:00am. Also, if my dad were involved, the man would be tipped thousands of dollars just for existing. So I got to work on a fruit salad. I chopped delicious fresh melon, banana acquired from the weekly souk yesterday, a peach, and a couple of apricots. I poured yogurt all over it then sprinkled it with expensive All Bran. We split a French press worth of coffee, then I offered him the fruit salad. He looked repulsed and said he was happy with the coffee. And I was off the hook.
He's still in my house, so I can't do things such as yoga or going to the bathroom.
Updates From the Front:
--the dar chebab kids have come to me wanting to organize an outing. I think I weird them out by constantly saying, "That's GREAT! I love that idea and I'll do anything I can to help you!" Because I assume they're like, well why doesn't Annie do something? I tried to explain that, when I try to organize something, it's less likely to work for a multitude of reasons. But if they organize it, that's better. I think they just think I'm lazy. Anyway, they want to go to a lake, and that sounds great to me.
--aerobics-wise, one of the girls has started teaching the class in my place. Finally! I like to think I can call that sustainable development. However, she's very hardcore and I'm scared she'll scare all the less-fit ones away..
--It's getting HOT. At least not as hot as by Ouarzazate. I heard it was 100ish there yesterday. It is not that hot here, but the sun has become intolerable after 11:00am and until 3:30pm.
--A grad student came here the other day. She sent out an email to all PCVs in Morocco, trying to go places to get narratives from women, so I invited her. She's now off in a village with my tutor.
I just went out to the kitchen and found my landlord's brother mopping. He called me lazy. Guilty as charged.