I’ve experienced a lot of catcalling since I’ve been here. It is …umm.. “interesting” to take a leisurely walk and have men looking at me like I’m a unicorn on roller skates. I’m serious. It happens every day. Sometimes they’ll make “Psssst” sounds at me. I think there are six big girls here, including me. American, Black, female, AND plus size? Say whaaaaaaat? Just believe when I tell you that I could have easily become someone’s side girl, or first, second or third wife like 10 times over by now.
One day, a cab driver slowed his car down to a crawl to stare at me while I was walking to work. He had three passengers (including a woman) in the car. They all had to stare at me. I’m mindful not to imply that I want the attention. It’s basically like being in New York city and not making eye contact with panhandlers.
Disclaimer: I have not met all of the Moroccan men. This post reflects some of the men who I have come in contact with in my six weeks of being here. See the pictures below of me with men who didn’t “Psssst” at me. 🙂
Meet Aziz. He’s 28. He doesn’t speak any English. I had fun practicing my Durija with him at his produce stand (I’ve been taking lessons) and teaching him how to say the fruits and veggies in English. Apparently, I was a little too friendly because I walked away with Aziz’s phone number. I haven’t had a man give me his number on a piece of paper since… since.. like.. 2000. I’m not interested, but I didn’t have the heart to tell Aziz that.
Trust me when I tell you that you have never put produce in a bag as romantically and tenderly as we did.
This is Hasan. He has a shop in the medina. I bought some argan oil and two bracelets from him for 400 dirhams ($40 USD). I negotiated down from 570 dirhams. Note to self: Add “Skilled in intense negotiations” to resume.
I asked him about some figurines dressed in royal blue. It’s my favorite color so they immediately stood out. Hassan became very excited and starting taking my clothes off. Okay, it was only my sweater, but either way, I was surprised. He wanted to dress me like the figurines. It was entertaining until I showed some folks the pictures and they explained that this is what men in the Sahara wear. I am not a man. Click HERE to see some video of this dressing.
This is Mohammed. He’s 21. His shop is near Hasan’s. Mohammed’s family moved to El Jadida a few years back so his dad could battle cancer in a calmer environment. Unfortunately, his dad passed away. Mohammed dropped out of school to run the family business. He told me that he loves America and showed me his undershirt to prove that point. The shirt said: I love Las Vegas.
I try to use my limited Durija everywhere to practice. I visited a market and asked, “How much is this?” In Durija it’s pronounced “Bee-SHELL head-DEE?” The people are quite amused with me when I try to speak their language, but no one is more amused than me. Haaaaaa. Here I am practicing with a shop owner.
And, finally, the most important man in Morocco, Hicham Jenkins. (That’s not his last name. I made that up.) He works with me. He’s the most important man (at least to me) because he goes to my apartment to pick up dead bugs. I know it sounds silly, but these are some BIG bugs. Click here if you forgot. I’ve had many thoughts about immediately going back home where the scary bugs are much more respectful and remain outside.
