ENGLISH SPEAKING MEN. Azrou Part 2. On the bus from Marrakech to Azrou (nearly a nine-hour ride) I was struggling to put my daypack up in the narrow overhead, and the man in the seat next to me assisted, and spoke to me in good English.
He was tall, big, shaved bald-head, about 30 something with great teeth. He looked more like one of my nephews, as all his physical traits are opposite of the majority of male Moroccans I encounter. I quickly (and accurately) identified him as a city dweller. He had just moved to Kech with his wife and two children from the U.K., where he had a coffee shop for 7 years. They had to move because of an asthmatic condition of his seven year old son. His English wasn't flawless, but it was very good. He and his wife speak French in their home. We talked about the many languages in Morocco and the difficulties it poses
to have so many. He said he had never been inside a mud house in a douar (settlement). The lifestyle of some of my Moroccan friends here is as foreign to him as it would be to most of my blog readers. Buses have no toilets on board, so there is a squat toilet W. C. for the passengers at the bus stations like this along the way. The man with his goats is just taking a short cut through the area.
A day later when I was in a taxi out to my CBT site to see my "first family" I was seated next to another man, this time a short, full head of (short) hair guy who also had good teeth (he was educated) who spoke very good English. He headed up a materials crew for a road construction company. As he explained to me what type of work he did, he was somewhat surprised I would understand, but I quickly realized his job sounded very similar to a friend of mine from Montana. He was enthusiastic about talking politics and was very aware of the background and philosophies of the candidates. Need I say that about 99.9% (probably 100) of people here are Obama supporters. I always just tell locals that I don't talk politics or religion, so that gets me off the hook for talking, but doesn't keep them from it!
An aside about travels. When I got in the taxi, two other women were going to get in the back, and rather than sit next to him, he needed to scoot over so he was next to the door, I was next to him, and the women next to me. It's not culturally comfortable for them to sit crammed next to a male stranger. Also, often on a bus, if there is a vacant seat next to me, people will only sit next to me as a last resort. Would that sound familiar as what was the case years ago in the U. S. if I was a black person on an all-white bus? Well, no, I guess not. I would have been sitting in the back by myself...
Oh, on that note, one more thing. Today I saw on the street my landlord and his friend the welder (who made our road signs). We greeted and shook hands. There was a bearded man (signifying a higher level of religious pursuit, to put it simply) with them; I extended my hand but he would not shake it. Can't win 'em all!
He was tall, big, shaved bald-head, about 30 something with great teeth. He looked more like one of my nephews, as all his physical traits are opposite of the majority of male Moroccans I encounter. I quickly (and accurately) identified him as a city dweller. He had just moved to Kech with his wife and two children from the U.K., where he had a coffee shop for 7 years. They had to move because of an asthmatic condition of his seven year old son. His English wasn't flawless, but it was very good. He and his wife speak French in their home. We talked about the many languages in Morocco and the difficulties it poses
to have so many. He said he had never been inside a mud house in a douar (settlement). The lifestyle of some of my Moroccan friends here is as foreign to him as it would be to most of my blog readers. Buses have no toilets on board, so there is a squat toilet W. C. for the passengers at the bus stations like this along the way. The man with his goats is just taking a short cut through the area.A day later when I was in a taxi out to my CBT site to see my "first family" I was seated next to another man, this time a short, full head of (short) hair guy who also had good teeth (he was educated) who spoke very good English. He headed up a materials crew for a road construction company. As he explained to me what type of work he did, he was somewhat surprised I would understand, but I quickly realized his job sounded very similar to a friend of mine from Montana. He was enthusiastic about talking politics and was very aware of the background and philosophies of the candidates. Need I say that about 99.9% (probably 100) of people here are Obama supporters. I always just tell locals that I don't talk politics or religion, so that gets me off the hook for talking, but doesn't keep them from it!
An aside about travels. When I got in the taxi, two other women were going to get in the back, and rather than sit next to him, he needed to scoot over so he was next to the door, I was next to him, and the women next to me. It's not culturally comfortable for them to sit crammed next to a male stranger. Also, often on a bus, if there is a vacant seat next to me, people will only sit next to me as a last resort. Would that sound familiar as what was the case years ago in the U. S. if I was a black person on an all-white bus? Well, no, I guess not. I would have been sitting in the back by myself...
Oh, on that note, one more thing. Today I saw on the street my landlord and his friend the welder (who made our road signs). We greeted and shook hands. There was a bearded man (signifying a higher level of religious pursuit, to put it simply) with them; I extended my hand but he would not shake it. Can't win 'em all!
posted by Connie Genger | 1:15 AM
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