Excerpts from mass email II
The KOFFI concert and endless night in Casablanca: A shout out to Claire for introducing me to Olivier (even though sometimes I have to ignore his ceaseless calling my cell) because now I can say – après longtemps – I saw Koffi in concert! It was actually mediocre, but the dancers were excellent, if not a little scandalous, and I ended up meeting one of his backup singers who wants to fly me to Paris to visit him! (if this doesn’t quite make sense to you either, join the club. Email me if you want more details…) But the real confusion of the evening came from the fact that I was surely still in Morocco, yet spoke only French (and a little Lingala!) and literally did not see anyone who was not Congolese the whole night. And it was hard not to slip up with a little “shokrane” or “b’salaama” here and there!
Ibtissane, my new Arabic tutor and favorite djellaba vendor: Ibtissane is a 29-year-old single woman who owns a small djellaba (traditional wear, something like a long gown with pockets) store with her sister, and needs help with English as desperately as I need it in Arabic. So, with French as the intermediary language, we meet once a week over mint tea and pastries and say that we’ll study hard… but we usually just start talking and then translate random words from our current conversation when we remember. Last time I think I learned how to say dating, hips, grease, and destiny in Arabic. We’re making progress.
Cathédrale St. Pierre and learning African French: I decided to do something about the religious void in my life here, and so started attending Sunday mass at this beautiful Islamic-architectured cathedrale about 25 minutes walking from my house. The congregation is about 29% European, 1% Moroccan, and 70% Central/West Africans who always arrive late. (And I’d laugh at that if I wasn’t also among the guilty…) On my first visit, I heard this fabulous choir of young black Africans singing real African music, straight from Congo, the Gambia, and Senegal, and was SMITTEN on the spot. Sorry Dion, but even better than VOT. So, for about a month now I’ve been singing with this group and we’re now preparing for Easter services and I think we’re even singing for a Pope… but I actually don’t know exactly because I am still getting used to the way they speak French. It’s an entirely new language, and they speak about 15 times faster than any Moroccan or French person I’ve ever met. I end up asking a lot of obvious questions, but then when I make progress its so rewarding! It’s funny the things you get excited about when in language immersion… like saying a complex sentence without pausing, or no longer needing to shove your ear into someone’s face when they start talking to you!
LEAVING the markez and diving into the world of international migration junkies: Hamdullah (thank God!), Last Friday was our last day of classes at the markez and from now until May 4th we are free to field research, write, and be entirely on our own within the limits of Morocco! The subject of my research is government and NGO resources available to Sub-Saharan immigrant communities settling in Rabat, and already I’ve encountered a surprising sub-culture of academics, researchers, and students all buzzing around this issue. Morocco is unique in its “transit” location between struggling African countries and a perceived economic paradise in Spain, Italy, and other EU countries, but as EU and Moroccan border security has tightened in recent years, many immigrants can’t make it past Morocco and thus stay – lacking legal status, regular residence, appropriate language skills, and thus access to the institutions and rights theoretically entitled to everyone in Morocco. I’m half-escatic, half-terrified to get into the serious field work, but nonetheless feel supported by the many students and researchers I’ve met (at an international conference held last week on migration) who are willing to help. But, even though my Francais is getting good, I still carry my mini-dictionary like its my 2nd bible. Words like asylum-seekers and community sustainability, for some reason, just never made it into my high school vocab lists…
Ibtissane, my new Arabic tutor and favorite djellaba vendor: Ibtissane is a 29-year-old single woman who owns a small djellaba (traditional wear, something like a long gown with pockets) store with her sister, and needs help with English as desperately as I need it in Arabic. So, with French as the intermediary language, we meet once a week over mint tea and pastries and say that we’ll study hard… but we usually just start talking and then translate random words from our current conversation when we remember. Last time I think I learned how to say dating, hips, grease, and destiny in Arabic. We’re making progress.
Cathédrale St. Pierre and learning African French: I decided to do something about the religious void in my life here, and so started attending Sunday mass at this beautiful Islamic-architectured cathedrale about 25 minutes walking from my house. The congregation is about 29% European, 1% Moroccan, and 70% Central/West Africans who always arrive late. (And I’d laugh at that if I wasn’t also among the guilty…) On my first visit, I heard this fabulous choir of young black Africans singing real African music, straight from Congo, the Gambia, and Senegal, and was SMITTEN on the spot. Sorry Dion, but even better than VOT. So, for about a month now I’ve been singing with this group and we’re now preparing for Easter services and I think we’re even singing for a Pope… but I actually don’t know exactly because I am still getting used to the way they speak French. It’s an entirely new language, and they speak about 15 times faster than any Moroccan or French person I’ve ever met. I end up asking a lot of obvious questions, but then when I make progress its so rewarding! It’s funny the things you get excited about when in language immersion… like saying a complex sentence without pausing, or no longer needing to shove your ear into someone’s face when they start talking to you!
LEAVING the markez and diving into the world of international migration junkies: Hamdullah (thank God!), Last Friday was our last day of classes at the markez and from now until May 4th we are free to field research, write, and be entirely on our own within the limits of Morocco! The subject of my research is government and NGO resources available to Sub-Saharan immigrant communities settling in Rabat, and already I’ve encountered a surprising sub-culture of academics, researchers, and students all buzzing around this issue. Morocco is unique in its “transit” location between struggling African countries and a perceived economic paradise in Spain, Italy, and other EU countries, but as EU and Moroccan border security has tightened in recent years, many immigrants can’t make it past Morocco and thus stay – lacking legal status, regular residence, appropriate language skills, and thus access to the institutions and rights theoretically entitled to everyone in Morocco. I’m half-escatic, half-terrified to get into the serious field work, but nonetheless feel supported by the many students and researchers I’ve met (at an international conference held last week on migration) who are willing to help. But, even though my Francais is getting good, I still carry my mini-dictionary like its my 2nd bible. Words like asylum-seekers and community sustainability, for some reason, just never made it into my high school vocab lists…
posted by IJA at 6:00 AM
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