How ironic... the young woman who gave me the idea to write this blog post just walked into this cyber where I am typing, greeted me, and shook my hand. OK, perhaps it's not that ironic or unexpected, since she is the same one who had essentially made a marriage proposal to me earlier this year (see my February 2011 blog post on that particular encounter with her).
Anyway, not to be distracted any further from the subject of the blog post which I have sat down here to write today... yesterday where I live down here in the Sahara, I crossed paths with this same young woman who I just mentioned. I was walking through the crowded area across the street from two schools here in my town. Given that sessions of classes had just let out, such that many students were mingling on and near the block on which I was walking, I didn't realize that I had passed her. I then heard a soft, female voice say, from behind me, "Abdu..."
Ah, but now I must digress again, to explain that name. Moroccans seem to expect PCVs to use Moroccan names rather than their English names. As far as I know, there is no direct translation of my name in English into Darija, that is, into Moroccan Arabic. I figured that "Abdullah" was the closest I could get. Invariably either Moroccans or I shorten it to "Abdu."
Anyhow, I thought, "Did I just hear someone say 'Abdu'?" I turned around to try to see someone who might have called my name. I saw the young woman in question, smiling ever so slightly at me.
I walked back to her, asking her in Darija, "Bihxir?" and "Labas?" both of which mean, "Are you fine?" She responded that she was fine. As I approached her, I waited to see if she would extend her hand to me for a handshake. She put out her hand, so we shook hands. Moroccan women might not feel comfortable shaking hands with men, so it's important, as a man, when greeting a Moroccan woman, to wait to see whether or not she extends her hand for a handshake.
However, when I speak with Moroccan men, other than when either of us is passing by without stopping, I always try to remember to shake their hands. It's an expected part of greetings between men in Morocco.
When men shake hands here in Morocco, if they know each other, and are glad to see each other, they might firmly and vigorously shake hands with each other. However, when a Moroccan woman shakes a man's hand, she does so always briefly, and, even more unsurprisingly, much less firmly than men shake hands. Indeed, often a Moroccan woman will merely touch her palm against the man's palm, without actually grasping his hand.
As if to provide this very type of comparison with its attendant contrast, the next person with whom I shook hands was a man. I had left my brief interaction with the young woman and walked to the community center here in town. I had gone there to inquire about the status of paperwork which must be completed before I can teach an English class for adults there. When I entered the office of the community center, the fellow there in the office shook my hand quite firmly, and for a significant duration (at least compared with the usual length of handshakes in the US). In fact, he used the handshake to guide me to sit down before I started talking with him, continuing to grasp my hand until I was sitting down.
Moroccan men also use handshakes as a way of making sure you don't get away from them before they're done talking with you. I've had conversations with Moroccan men where they've maintained the handshake throughout the entire conversation. Unnerving though it was at first, I have come to recognize why Moroccan men do so. And, I've realized that often one must wait in relation to handshakes with both Moroccan women as well as Moroccan men: with the women, for them to initiate the handshakes, and for the men sometimes to end the handshakes.
Anyway, not to be distracted any further from the subject of the blog post which I have sat down here to write today... yesterday where I live down here in the Sahara, I crossed paths with this same young woman who I just mentioned. I was walking through the crowded area across the street from two schools here in my town. Given that sessions of classes had just let out, such that many students were mingling on and near the block on which I was walking, I didn't realize that I had passed her. I then heard a soft, female voice say, from behind me, "Abdu..."
Ah, but now I must digress again, to explain that name. Moroccans seem to expect PCVs to use Moroccan names rather than their English names. As far as I know, there is no direct translation of my name in English into Darija, that is, into Moroccan Arabic. I figured that "Abdullah" was the closest I could get. Invariably either Moroccans or I shorten it to "Abdu."
Anyhow, I thought, "Did I just hear someone say 'Abdu'?" I turned around to try to see someone who might have called my name. I saw the young woman in question, smiling ever so slightly at me.
I walked back to her, asking her in Darija, "Bihxir?" and "Labas?" both of which mean, "Are you fine?" She responded that she was fine. As I approached her, I waited to see if she would extend her hand to me for a handshake. She put out her hand, so we shook hands. Moroccan women might not feel comfortable shaking hands with men, so it's important, as a man, when greeting a Moroccan woman, to wait to see whether or not she extends her hand for a handshake.
However, when I speak with Moroccan men, other than when either of us is passing by without stopping, I always try to remember to shake their hands. It's an expected part of greetings between men in Morocco.
When men shake hands here in Morocco, if they know each other, and are glad to see each other, they might firmly and vigorously shake hands with each other. However, when a Moroccan woman shakes a man's hand, she does so always briefly, and, even more unsurprisingly, much less firmly than men shake hands. Indeed, often a Moroccan woman will merely touch her palm against the man's palm, without actually grasping his hand.
As if to provide this very type of comparison with its attendant contrast, the next person with whom I shook hands was a man. I had left my brief interaction with the young woman and walked to the community center here in town. I had gone there to inquire about the status of paperwork which must be completed before I can teach an English class for adults there. When I entered the office of the community center, the fellow there in the office shook my hand quite firmly, and for a significant duration (at least compared with the usual length of handshakes in the US). In fact, he used the handshake to guide me to sit down before I started talking with him, continuing to grasp my hand until I was sitting down.
Moroccan men also use handshakes as a way of making sure you don't get away from them before they're done talking with you. I've had conversations with Moroccan men where they've maintained the handshake throughout the entire conversation. Unnerving though it was at first, I have come to recognize why Moroccan men do so. And, I've realized that often one must wait in relation to handshakes with both Moroccan women as well as Moroccan men: with the women, for them to initiate the handshakes, and for the men sometimes to end the handshakes.
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