on shwiya, isps, and homestays
At the Women's Argan Coop
Shwiya is possibly my favorite word in derija. Say it slowly. Shhhhhwiiiiiiya. Your teeth clench, your mouth puckers, and air noisily escapes your lips to produce the shw sound. Your mouth then widens (sideways of course) for the iiii, only to open lengthwise to make room for the YA. Shwiya.
What a fabulous word...useful in a manner of contexts. Its technical meaning, I believe, is "a little" or "a little bit," but the word shwiya means far more than this definition would imply.
Situation 1: you are not feeling well.
host mother/teacher/anyone: Labaas? (are you welll?)
you: shwiiiiya (said in a sad tone of voice, obviously, with emphasis on the shwiii)
host mother/teacher/anyone: (concerned look)
you: shwiya mriida (a little sick)
Situation 2: you said something in Arabic to someone and they assume you know Arabic well and begin talking to you quite rapidly, much to your dismay because you don't understand a word they're saying.
taxi cab driver/waiter/anyone you might meet randomly: lots of words in derija, of which you understand maybe two
you (when the person pauses in expectation of a response): shwiya arabiya (a little arabic) (said apologetically). Shwiya shwiya.
Situation 3: you're eating dinner with your host family and your host mother is constantly trying to get you to eat more
host mother: koulii koulii!!!! (eat eat!!) (she offers you more soup)
you: shwiya (as in, only a little more)
this allows you to be polite but also prevents you from becoming sick from well-intentioned forced overeating.
In short, shwiya rocks, and I might just bring it back to the U.S. with me--the most important import to the States from Morocco.
Onto ISPs.
For our last three weeks in Fes (only two weeks now...time moves far too swiftly here), I am continuing to meet with Fadoua, my peer mentor, once a week, and I have also taken up private calligraphy lessons twice a week!!
I share with Fadoua short stories and poems I have written while in Morocco, and she shares her poetry with me. We also trade books to read--she lent me several books (translated into English) by Moroccan authors, and we occasionally discuss them. However, I have found that it's somewhat difficult to discuss the literature because our approaches are so different. Our discussions usually consist of me saying something about the main point of a short story and asking her if she agrees or has a different opinion. Sometimes she nods, sometimes she presents another point that her teacher had brought up in discussion about the story, and that's where it ends.
I find my time with Fadoua to be extremely valuable not because of these half-discussions, but because of the stories we share through writing and just through talking as friends. I love reading her poetry; even as the words are usually very simple, the ideas portrayed behind the words are intensely emotional. The main themes in her poetry seem to me to reflect many of the main themes running through Moroccan short stories. I also enjoy giving her my own work to read. Her enthusiasm in reading my stories and poetry has increased my confidence substantially. I was particularly eager for her to read one very short story in which I exaggerated the Western world's misconceptions of Islam. The main character is a businessman who travels to an Arab country for his business, and he immediately begins making judgments on everything he sees. At one point, he meets a woman who completely transforms his viewpoint. Consciously or subconsciously (I'm really not sure), I wrote the story in the writing style of most of the Moroccan short stories that I've read. Anyway, in showing the story to Fadoua, I was somewhat concerned that she would take offense at the prejudices introduced in the beginning. My concerns were baseless, however, because she of course realizes such prejudices exist, and she loved the story. After absorbing each others' work, we just talk--about anything, really. I ask about her life, and I tell her about my experiences in Morocco. She even invited me to her uncle's engagement party! (I'm not sure yet if I can go). Our weekly meetings are a fabulous opportunity to share our cultures with each other, exploring the differences and similarities, and to simply enjoy each others' company. I love Fadoua!!!
As for my other ISP, I have had only one private calligraphy lesson so far, but I enjoyed it very much, and I'm looking forward to my next meeting with my teacher this Sunday. I have to do my homework though! So far, I've learned to write Alif, the easiest letter (just a line...but don't let that fool you...it's quite hard to draw a precise, beautiful alif), and Del. Multiple rules dictate the drawing of each letter, and my teacher is very very precise. This is so I will be able to recognize my mistakes on my own. My homework is to create an entire page of close-to-perfect alifs (which I can tell you, even if alif is just a line, is NOT easy) and a page of close-to-perfect dels.
Homestays!
I am very happy to say that we all have the same homestay families as last time in Fes. My host family is very hospitable and open. Whenever I see my host father, his mouth cracks open into a HUGE smile, and he says, "ALEEEXIIIIIS!" I never know what to say back, so I just laugh and nod. My host father and little sister, Aziza, playfully attack each other on occasion, my father always appearing very solemn and Aziza always falling over with laughter. The first time this happened, I was a little shocked, but Aziza's laughter is infectious, and I found myself laughing along. My older brother, Akram, has left for Germany, sadly, because I had enjoyed his company the last time we were in Fes. Raja, my seventeen-year-old sister, is a senior in high school and is preparing for her baccalaureate, so she's working hard, while Hamza, my fifteen-year-old brother, watches TV whenever he's home (according to my host mother, he does not like school). Raja is very fashionable, and I am quite jealous of her style...I occasionally find myself wishing I had my cute clothes from back home so we could compare fashions. Finally, my host mother says that I am like her daughter, just like Raja and Aziza, and is generally very kind. She always prepares delicious food with which I am eager to fill my stomach. I will be sorry to say goodbye to my Moroccan family, but I am sure we will keep in touch.
Lots of love to everyone back home, and I will see you soon!!!
-Alexis