Earlier this week at the dar chebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco, I was teaching three teenage Moroccan girls English. They had asked me to teach them about reported speech, which is also called "indirect speech." So I was putting sentences onto the dry erase board like "He said, 'I cooked the couscous.'" Then I was explaining to them that using indirect speech, one would write the same message as "He said that he had cooked the couscous." Later I was giving them sentences like the first one and asking them to rewrite them using indirect speech. Then we reviewed their answers and compared their answers with how the sentence was supposed to look using indirect speech.
Later during the same English class, they asked me to review the passive voice with them. So I was writing sentences in the active voice on the board, and having the girls switch the sentences into the passive voice, so they could practice putting sentences into the passive voice.
I often try to use English lessons as opportunities to plant and/or water seeds in the minds of Moroccan youths. So at one point, I wrote a sentence on the board mentioning Fatima Mernissi, who is a Moroccan feminist, and who thus writes about how we need to empower women. She's probably the most prominent feminist in Morocco; indeed, some consider her the most prominent feminist in the Arab world. I had already seen a picture of Ms. Mernissi in an English textbook used here in Morocco, so I figured that they probably already knew about her. So I wanted to help encourage any interest they might have already had in her. So I wrote, "She read the book by Fatima Mernissi." After a little while, they correctly answered that in the passive voice, the sentence should read "The book by Fatima Mernissi was read by her." After our small class had ended, I thought that because I had written that sentence on the board, which they copied into their notebooks, and which they'll likely re-read, perhaps it will reinforce the idea of reading one of her books, and consequently perhaps one of them would end up reading one of Ms. Mernissi's books.
After we had reviewed what that sentence should look like in the passive voice, one of the girls noted, "But she is not here!" I capitalized on her comment as an opportunity to again water that seed, that idea of reading the work of a major Moroccan feminist. However, this time, I made the suggestion more directly, replying, "Ah, but you can still read one of her books!"
I also try to use English lessons to point out what must seem like unexpected, inexplicable, anomalous inconsistencies in spelling and pronunciation in English. Thus I explained that both the past tense and the present tense of the verb "read" are both spelled the same way, even though they don't sound the same way. I added that in the present tense, the vowels in this word collectively have a long "e" sound, but not in the past tense, when it sounds like the color "red." After illustrating these inconsistencies, I decided to employ some humor to try to ease any mental anguish that they may have been feeling over trying to get these spellings and pronunciations straight. After acknowledging that they must think that these inconsistencies seem crazy, I remarked, "The people who started spelling "read" in the past tense and "read" in the present tense the same way should have been sent to Berrechid!" Berrechid is a city here in Morocco where there's a psychiatric institution. The name of the city is often used synonymously as an insinuation that someone is mentally ill: that is to say, if you say that someone should go to Berrechid, you're suggesting that that person is insane. So, in declaring that certain people--who started pronouncing both the past and present tenses of the verb "read" the same way--should have gone to Berrechid, I was saying that those people must have been insane. Since Moroccans almost always are amused when someone else is called insane, the girls did indeed laugh at my comment.
Jocularity aside, I also capitalized on the opportunity to encourage these girls in their studies, given that a couple of them appeared to be wearing wedding rings, and thus apparently were married. Given that many rural Moroccan girls are expected to stay at home and raise a family once they get married, even if they get married while they are young, I felt it was important to reinforce their studiousness in light of their seemingly being married. Therefore, regarding how they're continuing their studies while evidently being married, I said to them, "Tbark Allah Elikum," which you say to people who have done something which you feel merits approval or support.
One of the girls clarified that she's engaged to be married. The other admitted that she's not actually married. Then she asked me if I'm married. It occurred to me that perhaps she asked me because she likes me. I've been out of college for more than a few years. Considering the question of marrying a Moroccan more generally, I wouldn't want to become romantically involved with nearly all Moroccan females because I'd never convert to Islam. Added to that reason of never being able to become a Muslim, amongst the many reasons why I wouldn't want to become romantically involved with Moroccan females, I thus include not wanting to get involved with girls who necessarily are a lot younger than me.
However, you should know that not only do Moroccan men marry much younger females, it's also socially acceptable for them to do so here in Morocco. Why? The historical figure most revered in Morocco did so. The founder of Islam married a female who was significantly younger than him. He also claimed to have revelations authorizing him to marry multiple wives; after claiming to have had those revelations, he indeed married multiple females. Consequently, one of his wives accused him of having self-serving revelations. He also said that it's best not to marry more than one wife if you can't give adequate attention to all of them. Ultimately his other wives wound up ceding their time with him to his youngest wife, the one who was significantly younger than him, because she was perceived to be his favorite wife. Anyway, I could go on, but if you want to know where Moroccan men get a role model for marrying females much younger than them, know that many of them get such encouragement and reinforcement from the founder of Islam.
Later during the same English class, they asked me to review the passive voice with them. So I was writing sentences in the active voice on the board, and having the girls switch the sentences into the passive voice, so they could practice putting sentences into the passive voice.
I often try to use English lessons as opportunities to plant and/or water seeds in the minds of Moroccan youths. So at one point, I wrote a sentence on the board mentioning Fatima Mernissi, who is a Moroccan feminist, and who thus writes about how we need to empower women. She's probably the most prominent feminist in Morocco; indeed, some consider her the most prominent feminist in the Arab world. I had already seen a picture of Ms. Mernissi in an English textbook used here in Morocco, so I figured that they probably already knew about her. So I wanted to help encourage any interest they might have already had in her. So I wrote, "She read the book by Fatima Mernissi." After a little while, they correctly answered that in the passive voice, the sentence should read "The book by Fatima Mernissi was read by her." After our small class had ended, I thought that because I had written that sentence on the board, which they copied into their notebooks, and which they'll likely re-read, perhaps it will reinforce the idea of reading one of her books, and consequently perhaps one of them would end up reading one of Ms. Mernissi's books.
After we had reviewed what that sentence should look like in the passive voice, one of the girls noted, "But she is not here!" I capitalized on her comment as an opportunity to again water that seed, that idea of reading the work of a major Moroccan feminist. However, this time, I made the suggestion more directly, replying, "Ah, but you can still read one of her books!"
I also try to use English lessons to point out what must seem like unexpected, inexplicable, anomalous inconsistencies in spelling and pronunciation in English. Thus I explained that both the past tense and the present tense of the verb "read" are both spelled the same way, even though they don't sound the same way. I added that in the present tense, the vowels in this word collectively have a long "e" sound, but not in the past tense, when it sounds like the color "red." After illustrating these inconsistencies, I decided to employ some humor to try to ease any mental anguish that they may have been feeling over trying to get these spellings and pronunciations straight. After acknowledging that they must think that these inconsistencies seem crazy, I remarked, "The people who started spelling "read" in the past tense and "read" in the present tense the same way should have been sent to Berrechid!" Berrechid is a city here in Morocco where there's a psychiatric institution. The name of the city is often used synonymously as an insinuation that someone is mentally ill: that is to say, if you say that someone should go to Berrechid, you're suggesting that that person is insane. So, in declaring that certain people--who started pronouncing both the past and present tenses of the verb "read" the same way--should have gone to Berrechid, I was saying that those people must have been insane. Since Moroccans almost always are amused when someone else is called insane, the girls did indeed laugh at my comment.
Jocularity aside, I also capitalized on the opportunity to encourage these girls in their studies, given that a couple of them appeared to be wearing wedding rings, and thus apparently were married. Given that many rural Moroccan girls are expected to stay at home and raise a family once they get married, even if they get married while they are young, I felt it was important to reinforce their studiousness in light of their seemingly being married. Therefore, regarding how they're continuing their studies while evidently being married, I said to them, "Tbark Allah Elikum," which you say to people who have done something which you feel merits approval or support.
One of the girls clarified that she's engaged to be married. The other admitted that she's not actually married. Then she asked me if I'm married. It occurred to me that perhaps she asked me because she likes me. I've been out of college for more than a few years. Considering the question of marrying a Moroccan more generally, I wouldn't want to become romantically involved with nearly all Moroccan females because I'd never convert to Islam. Added to that reason of never being able to become a Muslim, amongst the many reasons why I wouldn't want to become romantically involved with Moroccan females, I thus include not wanting to get involved with girls who necessarily are a lot younger than me.
However, you should know that not only do Moroccan men marry much younger females, it's also socially acceptable for them to do so here in Morocco. Why? The historical figure most revered in Morocco did so. The founder of Islam married a female who was significantly younger than him. He also claimed to have revelations authorizing him to marry multiple wives; after claiming to have had those revelations, he indeed married multiple females. Consequently, one of his wives accused him of having self-serving revelations. He also said that it's best not to marry more than one wife if you can't give adequate attention to all of them. Ultimately his other wives wound up ceding their time with him to his youngest wife, the one who was significantly younger than him, because she was perceived to be his favorite wife. Anyway, I could go on, but if you want to know where Moroccan men get a role model for marrying females much younger than them, know that many of them get such encouragement and reinforcement from the founder of Islam.
No comments:
Post a Comment