Do you know your birthday?
March 16, 2010
Today is the birthday of two of my favorite people in my village, my only real friend among the young girls, and my host mother. This morning I cooked up a batch of Ghirardelli dark chocolate brownies to share with them this afternoon. I was glad to have a reason to make them and also to have plenty of other people to help eat them. Moroccan baked goods are nothing like the ones in America, even Ghirardelli aside. “Chocolate cake” here is only really different from normal cake because it’s brown.
Anyway, around 5:00pm I headed out to meet the small gathering of girls down in Tigmi Mehdi, under the great big argan tree in the middle of the fields to the west of town. It’s a popular hang-out when the weather’s nice and the green things are growing. The party started with some climbing up in the grand old tree. I was excited about that, never having tried climbing it. I’m going to have to do it again sometime–it’s fun! A different view. After plenty of picture-taking (with my camera, since none of the girls has one), we climbed back down to take some ground-level shots in the fields. I’m pretty sure that my friend asked me along because we’re friends and not just for my camera, but I also think one or two of the others only saw me as the photographer of the evening. But I enjoyed it for what it was worth, and I was glad to do the favor for my friend.
Eventually we got down to eating the goodies that they’d brought along. My friend made a good cake and there was pop corn, almonds, pistachios, baghrir (a Moroccan crepe, sort of), and some orange soda. I listened to them joke around while I munched away. Two other girls showed up before we finished all the food and then we did another quick photo shoot before packing everything up. I walked my friend home on my way to my next stop for the evening.
I took a round-about route to get to my host family’s house, cutting up and around through town. I just happened to catch up to my host dad and my older (4-year-old) host brother as they got to their neighborhood. My host dad seemed a little confused about me appearing out of nowhere so late (after sundown), but I was determined to follow him on into the house even though I felt awkward about it.
I gave a quick greeting to my host aunt and my host mom as I sat down in my usual spot in their T.V. room. My host mom ended up having a rather heated debate with my host dad about the donkey–apparently neither one of them brought it in for the night, and she wasn’t about to go get it since she was dealing with the kids–but afterwards she turned to me and apologized for not greeting me completely right away. Not a problem to me! It was nice of her to acknowledge it, though. I appreciated that.
I didn’t figure I’d stick around long. Once I saw that the kids weren’t distracting her, I told her I thought it might be her birthday and handed her a little container of brownies. She smiled really big and said she didn’t know, but thanks! Of course my host brothers both honed in on the sweets as my host mother opened them up to take a look. My host aunt pointed out that my older host brother’s birthday is on Saturday–he’ll be five, while Anwar just turned one. I told him some of the brownies were his, then. I got a hint that my host mom liked Ghirardelli brownies when she mentioned, after giving them a quick taste, that they must be like the other ones I brought over when my parents came. I’d been wondering if she liked them–she obviously remembered them, so that’s a good sign.
I wish I could remember our quick conversation word-for-word. My host mom said she didn’t know if it was her birthday or not, and I said I wasn’t sure but I thought so. Several months ago I had the chance to read her identity card to her, and I wrote down the date that was listed. She can’t read her identity card herself, neither the Arabic nor the French. She doesn’t know when her birthday is and she doesn’t know how old she is. If my note was correct, she was born on March 16, 1975. That makes her 35 today.
In the middle of our short exchange, she said to me, “I don’t know my birthday. I’m like the livestock. (Gih zund lbahaym.) I don’t know anything.” Thankfully she had a smile on her face, and more than anything she just seemed happy to have an opportunity to enjoy a little celebration. But it still caught me off-guard when she said that. My argument wasn’t very eloquent, but we had a short back-and-forth as I told her she wasn’t like the animals, and she was good. I told her she’d study once Anwar is older. She agreed and said she would, she’d learn up at the women’s club along with the others.
I’m awfully glad she was smiling the whole time. She’s got such a great sense of humor and is all-around rather jolly. A really smart lady, and creative, but she can’t even read or write her own name. She knew it once for just a little bit of time and I’m pretty sure she’ll learn it again later.
Two of my absolute favorite people here in Morocco, my host sister in Azilal and my host mother here in Tiznit, are illiterate. It’s strange. They’re both smart as a whip. I’m not sure why they didn’t study in school. One’s 35, now, and the other is right around 21. More young girls are staying in school for longer these days. Not everyone, but it’s better than it was not too long ago. But there’s still a vast number of illiterate women in Morocco.
There have been times when I’ve turned to my host sister and almost started talking about the Arabic words floating across the television screen, then remembered that she wouldn’t be able to read them. Besides the time when I read my host mom’s identity card to her, there was one time when she tried to write her name on Hussein’s chalkboard and didn’t get a single letter right. It was clear that she remembered bits of the letters, but none of them were as they should have been. So she asked me to write her name for her.
I’ve never found myself facing illiteracy like this before. It’s so strange to see people I personally care about dealing with it. Although most of the time it’s not a glaring issue that weighs down on their happiness, I still find myself not really knowing what to say sometimes. I don’t want to make light of it, I don’t want to offend them, and I don’t want to highlight their ignorance by doing or saying something wrong.
All that being said, my host mom kept the mood light tonight as she’s so good at doing. So far I’ve never seen her quick smile and laugh fail to appear. I think she enjoyed her birthday brownies and I’m pretty sure my younger friend did too. Overall a successful double birthday, I believe.
