Darija Lessons

The last two days we have been very busy. I have been taking lessons in Darija–the dialect of Arabic/Berber spoken in Morocco–from a lovely woman named Hajar in the afternoons. I have gotten far enough to introduce myself and to be polite. Since I lived the South for so long, it really weighs on me when I can’t thank people properly. Besides some vocab, I learned a few things about being polite in this culture:

If you say “no” only once here, it is very rude.

If you ask someone “who are you?,” it’s like saying “who do you think you are, buddy?” and thus also rude.

When responding to questions about how you are, Hamdulah can mean “good,” “so-so,” “bad,” or “I’ve eaten enough.” Hajar intimated that it is not only not polite to say you aren’t okay, but also nearly impossible to convey directly. It’s all in the intonation of the Hamdulah.

I’ve been practicing on the streetz and it has been a ton of fun; people are all so willing to help. Yesterday a boy tried to sell me tissues and when I refused and said thanks in Darija, he taught me a new Darijan phrase, made me repeat it 3x, and then went off to sell to someone else. Such a delight.

Here I am with Hajar.

Market Fleecing

I was fleeced in the market by a friendly spice seller. I went initially to get a gift for a friend. I wanted a nice selection of spices that you could only get here in Morocco, maybe some curry or combination of spices that are particular to the country.

Things started out well, I think. I addressed him in Darija, asked how he was, introduced myself, and then, when it became clear that that was the extent of my knowledge of the language, we turned to English. His English was very good, but he was enthusiastic and encouraging about my Darija.

The next part is a bit blurry. I know he brought me tea and had me hold his 3-legged pet chameleon–we had a funny confusion between chameleon and chamomile because of his accent. He had saved the chameleon from certain death; no one had wanted it because it only had 3 legs. So I thought he had a good heart, you know? You can see how I’m not suited for this.

Then he started piling spices into baggies and weighing everything, like a drug dealer. It all seemed so reasonable at the time and he was confusing me with math. So many numbers, weights, prices. What I do know is that my purse is a lot lighter and I have so much saffron now that I could swim in it.

To my credit, I talked him down about a fourth and he did throw in some tea and argan cream, but I’m pretty sure I paid at least double for everything. I have to say though–it was really fun. I had a great time. I’ll probably visit him again before I leave Morocco.

Finally, some pictures. Sorry about the boring prose. 🙂

Here Garett and I are in the Majorelle Gardens–they were partially renovated by Yves Saint Laurent, so she had a little monument and museum in there as well.

I’m pretty sure that I had just said something annoying before I took this next one. I can be super annoying. It’s such a good picture of Garett though.

They had cacti from around the world. Yves must have loved the desert.

We also took a cooking class at Amal, which is a place that helps support disadvantaged women in Morocco. It gives them training to work in kitchens, run businesses, and it helps them gain employment afterwards. A lovely place. Garett and I cooked Vegetable Tajine. There were about 20 riotous Argentinian women there with us. At one point, they were banging on the tables and singing “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” which seemed a little on the nose for me, but was also really funny.

And the final product! We had a marvelous time.