Thursday, May 3, 2012

Your Money's No Good Here

Yesterday as I was walking to the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco, I ran into one of the boys here in town who's especially warm and hospitable. I've eaten lunch with him and his family at their house. He said that his family has been asking where I've been. I explained to him that I'd been traveling for a few weeks, since I'd been working at Spring Camp in northeastern Morocco. He said that I should come over to their house again soon.

Moroccans seem to enjoy having me over for lunch. So we started talking about me coming over for lunch. So I said to him in Darija, "Waxa, l-gda?" meaning, "OK, lunch?" However, given that my pronunciation in Darija is not the best, it occurred to me that perhaps he thought that I just meant sometime the next day. The word for lunch, "gda," is very similar to the word for tomorrow, which is "gdda." You use the same letters when you say each word, but when you say "gdda," you're merely stressing the letter "d" more than when you say "gda." Wanting to be clear, I figured I would just see if lunch the next day would work, so I said, "L-gda, gdda?" He agreed that lunch the next day would work.

After we parted ways, I soon arrived at the dar shebab. There's been less activity at the dar shebab since I returned from Spring Camp last week. Moroccan schools follow the same academic year as schools in the US, starting in September and finishing in June. Thus kids are starting to spend a lot of time studying for their exams at the end of the year, and with good reason. They have to do well enough on them to be qualified to continue on to universities. If they don't pass these baccalaureate examinations, they won't be allowed to enroll at universities. I must say that I wholeheartedly agree with their decisions to spend less time at the dar shebab, and more time studying for these exams, since these tests greatly affect the course of the rest of their lives!

Given how relatively few youths were at the dar shebab, it was fairly good timing for the renovations being done at the dar shebab yesterday, including on some of the flooring. Once the floors had been fixed, the dar chebab moudir (Darija for "director") was getting ready to close the dar chebab for the day, since he wanted the floor tiles to set and not be disturbed by people walking on them until the next day. As he was about to close the dar shebab, he asked me if I wanted to join him for a beverage at one of the cafes in the center of town. That seemed like a nice idea, so we walked for a couple of minutes to the cafe. On the way, he said in English that it was seven o'clock. Since his English is not the best, and since he therefore doesn't always say the correct words, I thought that he might have been giving the wrong time. I thought it was six o'clock. I looked over at his wrist and his watch indeed showed that it was seven o'clock. I suddenly realized that he had in fact given me the correct time. I told him that I'd forgotten that we were supposed to set our clocks an hour ahead. He reminded me that because we've jumped forward an hour, here in Morocco we're now one hour ahead of GMT (Greenwich Mean Time). So, we're now on what Moroccans often call "New Time." When someone has forgotten to switch his or her clock ahead, or is simply operating on the old timeframe, often we say that that person is operating on "Old Time."

Soon after we discussed the time, he told me that he wanted to go to a shop on the far side of the square in the center of town. He told me to go to the cafe and wait for him there, so I got to the cafe first and got us a table. When he arrived at the cafe, he gave me a chocolate-covered wafer which was the size of a candy bar. He'd also bought one for himself. When the waiter came to see what we wanted to drink, the moudir ordered a "nus-nus," which is a glass half full of coffee, and half full of milk. Since it was so late in the day, and I was concerned about caffeine keeping me up, I ordered a glass of hot milk. The moudir and I sat for a while, enjoying our beverages, speaking about past PCVs who had lived here in town, and a little about the PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) here in Morocco who soon are going to become PCVs. When the time came to leave the cafe, I reached for my pocket to get some coins, fully expecting the moudir to gesture to me not to get my change, which is exactly what he did. I didn't press the point. I knew that when a Moroccan invites you out to a cafe, he intends to pay. Indeed, it would be bad etiquette to try to insist on paying for the drinks in such a situation. While I felt somewhat uncomfortable about him paying not only for the candy, but also the beverages, given how little money he probably has, I also appreciated that one has to respect the local customs where one finds oneself.

Later, pondering our time at the cafe, and how he paid for the food and drink, and how I felt a bit uncomfortable about it, I considered that we should let others give to us, even when they don't have a lot. I don't want to stifle people being generous. The real issue is not whether I am getting something, and, if so, what I am getting. Truly it is important if someone feels in their heart the need and desire to be generous. It's also important how we respond when they try to give to us. We want them to feel that they should be giving. We want them to feel that they are living at their best when they are being magnanimous.

It also occurred to me that I can not only reciprocate his kindness by continuing to bring food to the dar shebab to share with him as I've done, but that I can also simultaneously share a little of the culture in the US by sharing some food from the US with him. It pleases me when, after an interaction has made me uncomfortable in some way, through it I find a way to try to help people. I love helping others to give, and giving to others, thus hopefully bringing them joy.

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