Showing posts with label Culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Culture. Show all posts

September 4, 2007

Wedding Bells

I attended a wedding of a friend, Hafil, on the West side of town in the old district of Harrash two weeks ago. With the surname Hamzaoui, Hafil has an extended family of maybe 250 in Gafait. I like to joke sometimes and say that everyone in Gafait is Hamzaoui.

The wedding ceremony that I attended along with other men included dancing, eating, fundraising for the newly married (isn't this just a given at all weddings), and general socializing. The women had their night together the previous evening. Friends and family started prepping for the ceremony in mid afternoon, the ceremony began at dusk with a caravan of cars returning from the mausoleum of Sidi Hamza near the Kaid's office. I left at approximately 11 PM and the festivities probably continued till 2 AM.

(Note: there are two mausoleums in Gafait, the other one being named after Ben Abdelrahman. In general, mausoleums in Morocco are small shrines housing the remains of important local Islamic leaders from the past. And in many cases, although I have not validated this statement with these two particular men, these were Islamic missionaries, spreading Islam through N. Africa centuries before and combating or replacing the indigenous Berber's paganism).
The groom arriving by horse at the wedding reception.
Members of the band (includes percussion and a wood instrument resembling a clarinet), the wedding czar (who solicited money for the couple later in the night), and the wedding singer.
Line dancing with canes, drums, and some men that really know how to dance, which is mostly in the shoulders and hips. Sometimes in large groups of 6-10 like that pictured, but more often in smaller groups, men stand in front of the audience and entertain their friends. I always deftly avoid dancing at weddings. I do enough already to embarrass and bring attention to myself.

August 21, 2007

Swimming in Figuig


A place estimated to be several hundred years old in the desert town of Figuig, where I taught for 2 weeks at a English language camp. Built around an underground spring, the water flows into this walled pool, where local men come to bathe and relax, then is directed into fields in the area through a complex irrigation system.

August 8, 2007

King James VI

This is recent mail I received from Ryan, another volunteer in country. I'm a little surprised I didn't hear about it from my postmaster or someone in the government. Although not intended to be a slight on the King, I can see how it could be misinterpreted. Anyways, I thought it was quite funny and so did my neighbors.