Part of the Family

Unbelievably, I have already been in Morocco for three and a half months. I know it seemed like I dropped off the face of the planet for the first three of those months. I would like to fill everyone in a little bit on what I’ve been up to! I will address other aspects of my training soon, but I want to paint a picture in this post about what it was like for me to live with a Moroccan host family.

On January 23, 103 new volunteers gathered in the lobby of Hotel Oscar in Rabat and boarded three buses to begin our journeys outside of the capital. Along with five other volunteers, I was assigned to a small town of about 4,000 people fewer than 15 miles outside of Fez. We had only heard horror stories about Ain Cheggag before we arrived on that cold, rainy afternoon. My initial fears were that it would be a boring, dirty, close-minded small town, but we were all in for a surprise.

I spent the next two and half months living on the edge of town with the most incredible host family I could have dreamed of. Never in my life aside my from family did any group of people make me feel more at home and welcome than did my host family. I will forever be grateful for them for their understanding and patience with me, as I tried to adapt to life in Morocco: the food, how to interact, where to buy things, who to trust, and who to avoid. Their one-on-one Darija lessons were the most helpful language sessions of my life. Perhaps most unexpectedly, I watched them live their lives as faithful Muslims and came to understand their religion in a way in which I never dreamed.

Me and the groom, Samir, and Hmed.

My host mother, Aicha, inspired me beyond words with the way she humbly raised five sons and a daughter alone after her husband passed away almost 20 years ago. Despite her lack of formal education, she stands out as one of the wisest people I have ever met in my life. My brother, Hmed (26), and I formed an immediate bond. He is my best Moroccan friend, and honestly the best Darija teacher (with amazing English) in the country. My two youngest host brothers, Jamal and Jawad (19), are twins, and Aicha and the neighbors would often joke that there were now two sets of twins in the family when they would see me and Hmed. I was so lucky to be living with the family this winter/spring, because Samir (25) got married on March 1, so I was able to experience the preparation and execution of a beautiful Moroccan wedding. We spent a lot of time together before his wedding and shared so many laughs. He showed me an entirely different side of the Moroccan military. Tarek (23) is the best Darija rapper Ain Cheggag has ever seen. I know he has great things ahead in his future. He also owns the coolest barber shop in town and was the first person, other than myself, to cut my hair since 2008! It’s a shame that Wahiba (21) lives ten hours away with her husband and little daughter, Miriam, because we got along great when she was in Ain Cheggag for the wedding. I can tell the family isn’t complete when she’s not around. And the twins – we had so much fun laughing at each other when we had no idea what we were saying to each other. They made fun of me for my ugly boots and dirty clothes. They definitely thought I was the weirdest person who ever came into their house, but they would help me out with all of my random requests and clarify any confusion I had about the family or the neighborhood.

The whole neighborhood is involved in the wedding!

Along with my family, the neighborhood comprised more than a dozen families that all cared for, respected, watched out for, bickered with, and, above all, cooked for each other! I never fully comprehended the idea of community until I lived in my small corner of Ain Cheggag. Every family opened their homes to me – a complete stranger – and taught me how to live in Morocco. Sometimes I wished for a little anonymity, but nothing helped put a smile on my face on a hard day more than the greetings from parents sitting on their stoops and the squeals of the little kids running full speed at me to kiss my cheeks four times each and grab me with muddy hands. The respected and appreciated me immensely, yet at the same time treated me like a two-year-old. They taught me to appreciate the people around me and to be satisfied with what I have. It hit me hard to know that the amount of belongings I was able to pack into two suitcases to bring with me for two years in Morocco is far more than many people own here. I am forever grateful for the lessons these people – many of whom I don’t even know their names – taught me on a daily basis. 

The thought of having a host family for many months was perhaps what had me the most worried before leaving for Peace Corps, but now I realize it may end up being the most enriching part of my service as a volunteer. Their respect for my way of life and their passion to show me theirs made a lasting mark on me, and I hope to be able to live more like them in the future.