Kiss and Tell

Birthdays are always a little trying for me. There’s the pressure to celebrate, to appear popular in some way. There’s the constant distance between my family and me. And in the past there was always the fear of an unwanted phone call from my estranged father - a guaranteed argument and tears all around.

On the other hand my family does an amazing job at making me feel quite special. Phone calls, cards, presents, and expressions of love are in abundance every 14th of December. My mother makes a point of calling me as near to 9:29 AM PST as possible, simply because that’s the time at which I was born.

Traditionally, birthdays are not celebrated in Morocco. Indeed, many people don’t even know when their birthdays fall. It’s a hallmark of our individualist culture that we expect to celebrate the birth of a single, normal person.

Needless to say today was rough. I missed home all the more, and waiting until 5:29 PM GMT to talk to my Mom seemed unbearable this morning, as I sat knitting a hat and trying to do yoga in a culturally appropriate manner. (Impossible. Bending over and sticking your butt in the air is never culturally appropriate, but for some reason it’s OK to do on the roof in full view of the entire community . . .)

Things started looking up at lunchtime, when I learned how to eat cous-cous (sksou in Tashlheit) with my hands. I know it seems impossible, but really it’s not. It’s just really messy and involves having fewer qualms about messiness than I have. This new technique caused me to eat much slower than usual (it’s possible), but my host sister, Habiba, was so excited to see me try it that it lifted my spirits - emotional eating at its best.

Later I went into Oz to check my mail (walu) and my email (bzzef). And there were tons of well wishes from all of you! Thank you! Not only do I have the best family in the world but also I have an amazing group of friends back home. I don’t know what I would do without your support.

On my way home, my Mom called, which made me feel tons better. After we finished talking, I entered the communal fields and ran into three little girls that are friends with my host niece, Ikram. We greeted in the normal way by grasping hands and kissing on the cheek. Then I greeted their mothers, whom I had never met before, in the same way. It was one of those rare moments when you treasure something totally mundane. I must give and receive dozens of kisses everyday, but these were special somehow. Maybe it was because we weren’t in a home (where it’s mandatory to greet this way) or because the girls were so happy to see me. I’m a complete stranger to this community. All they know is that some crazy American wants to learn Tashlheit and ask them lots of questions about household goods. But in those brief moments, and as I overheard the girls explaining who I was, I felt like I had connected with my community in some small way. Not a bad birthday present.