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9/14/09 How Does My Host Family Love Me? Let Me Count the Ways...

My host family is the best. I know many Volunteers would say the same, but just check this out:

[Quick background: I planned to go into SouqTown today, so I stopped by my host family's house to let them know not to expect me for lfdor. The transit never showed up, though, so I went home, un-padlocked my door (hanging the open padlock on the doorknob), dropped off my backpack, and then headed over to Fatima's house until 6pm, at which point I headed back to the host fam for lfdor.]

(1) As I walk up to the house, my 10-year-old brother (Bro #2) spots me and runs inside to tell Ama. She comes out, waves at me, then goes back in. My 7-year-old sister comes barreling out of the house like a heat-seeking missile and throws herself into the air, trusting me to catch her. Which I do, and then carry her back to the door.

(2) My favorite little missile asks me if there's been any news about my truant sack. I explain that it has been found, and that I'm heading to Marrakesh in a few days to pick it up. She runs inside, shouting, "They found her bag! They found her bag!" Ama comes out, calling, "Lhumdullah!"

(3) My 12-year-old brother (Bro #1) calls, "Hey, I got the lock from your door," as he saunters past, too cool for, y'know, actual dialogue or anything. Ama explains: The boys saw some kids hanging around my front door, speculating that they could steal my padlock. Bro #1 yelled at them to leave my door alone. Bro #2 added, "That's my sister's lock!" They both believed that I was off to SouqTown for the week. Bro #1 then snagged the padlock and carried it home. Ama told him that he should have just padlocked the door, but he replied that just in case someone was inside - like my sitemate, for example, who has keys to my house - he didn't want to trap them.

[Fast forward half an hour]

(4) Ama makes tea, because she knows I don't drink coffee.

(4) She grins as she hands me a slice of fatbread, saying, "Here's my pizza." (The last time I'd eaten her fatbread - which is completely delicious, by the way - I'd called it "Moroccan pizza". Just an offhand comment, but she remembered!) Then she invites me to come over and show her how to make American pizza. That'll be a good time...

(5) She tells a visiting friend (her sister-in-law's mother, to be precise) a funny story about me, designed to make me look caring and witty. Since I'm pretty sure Ama thinks I rode the short bus, this was a deliberate kindness on her part.

(6) As soon as I finish, she hands me my favoritest baby. I bounce him on my knees, talk babytalk, feed him a bottle, and generally bliss out.

(7) He gives me a present he made all by himself. (Read: The two-month-old peed on me. Enh, I walk through worse every day.)

(8) Baba goes totally baby-crazy over his son, too. He's usually reserved, so it's really adorable to watch.

(9) When I was ready to leave, she drafted Bro #1 to walk me home. It turned out that Baba had already gone to get his truck to drive me home. It's only a few blocks, but they just want to have my back. :)

(10) And before I could make it out the door, Ama urged me to take more food, to eat later tonight. Both my moms show love through cooking. :)

...So, yeah, I've got the greatest host family ever. Alhumdulillah!

1 comment:

  1. Hi! Chanced upon your blog. Like you I'm an Amherst alum ('96) and a Morocco Peace Corps alum ('01). I was stationed in Afourer, a little town off the road between Beni Mellal and Marrakech. It's on the road up to Azilal. Where exactly is your site? I look forward to reading more posts and reminiscing about the food, the people, the food, the tea, the food!....Tara


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