Making Up for Elapsed Time

I was planning on making a series of short video clips in order to visually impart to you my experiences over the past few weeks but ran out of time because my faithful digitech crew (just for you digitech), Remy and Pia, had to head off to Egypt, equipment, insight, and all. Alas, I will tell a few short stories in the form of words-- do forgive all lack of literary creativity.

Before leaving Fes, I spent a weekend in Meknes, Morocco's third imperial city that came into its own in the seventeenth century when it was the capital of Moulay Ismail's Alawite dynasty. Since then, it has become a backwater despite a beautiful medina and fabulous old medrasas (Qu'ranic schools) like the Bouanania, a smaller version of the medrasa sharing both architect and moniker in Fez. I was forced to split this weekend between exploring the city and working on my video for my host family: crunchtime.

On the way to Meknes, I bought some delicious bright red rohmans (pomegranates) and stopped at Volubilis and Moulay Idriss. Volubilis, the stunning remains of the furthest western outpost of the Roman Empire from around the fourth century BC, was mind boggling in presentation of everything from tilework to structural foundations to 'laundry machines' that have been preserved mostly underground for over a thousand years. For some reason, I have yet to forget our guide's crude humor and crude laughter when he stood in the old bathroom area and repeated over and over 'ka ka pee pee politique'-- it took me a few minutes to realize that he was telling us that he thinks the Romans discussed politics just as we discuss politics--with one minor exception: they did it over their business while we do it over, say, a cup of coffee. But we're doing it all wrong, according to him.

From Volubilis one has a wonderful view of Moulay Idriss to the east, a small whitewashed town resting in a comfortable niche in the hillsides. Named for Morocco's most revered saint, Idriss, great-grandson of Prophet Mohammed and founder of Morocco's first dynasty, the town is home to the largest annual moussem, or pilgrammage, in late August every year. Although we stayed only for a short visit, I was exposed for the first time to one of the greatest divergences between Moroccan Islam and Islam outside of the Maghreb: the concept of sainthood. Anywhere else, the Moroccan tradition of travelling around to the holy sites of Saints' burial grounds would be considered idolatry, the one and only categorically unforgivable sin in Islam.

My final week with my homestay family flew by. I was stuck between the necessities to both spend as much time with them as possible and to finish my video for them without them knowing why I wasn't spending all of my time in the kitchen making harira or the living room watching Ramadan comedy sketches. Though difficult, I was releaved when they not only seemed to understand some of my very choppy and inarticulate narration but also to enjoy it. I was stressed leaving Fes, wanted more time with my family, and remain unsure of whether I will have the opportunity to stay with them again (a large incoming batch of students at the language center that our families were arranged through will most likely require a spot in my family, given that it is, after all, one of the best).

I am extraordinarily anxious to return to Fes. Luckily, I will get the chance to do so in less than two weeks time.