Monday, August 4, 2008

The gang.


Lot of family time this weekend. On Saturday, we all went to Emma's recital for strings day camp. After only five days on the half-bass, she can bow and pick like a pro. Well, a half-pro, at least. Seriously, it was impressive.

On Sunday, I drove with her mom to drop Emma off for her second year at Camp Kitaki. Mama was emotional. Emma was not (see above).

Then we careened back to Lincoln to watch Chip's last t-ball game. Nothing better than sitting in the late-afternoon, 102-degree sun, watching little boys who don't quite get the concept of being tagged out, or of throwing to any base but first.

Afterward, we got ice cream. Ryan goes for the full-immersion style of indulgence.


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Speaking of families, I'm reading the most interesting book. It's an oral history of multiple generations of a rural Moroccan family, told from two viewpoints -- that of a strongly religious Muslim man with extremely traditional views, and that of his cousin, a U.S. immigrant with a modern viewpoint, especially on the role of women in her country and her family.

The book is a quarter-century old (the local libraries have very little available on recent Moroccan history), but I imagine it's still quite useful and reflective of rural traditions and beliefs. The extent of the misogeny shouldn't shock me, I suppose, but it does. (So does the anti-Jewish and anti-"Christian" -- catchall for "western -- sentiment.)

Women are expected not to leave the home -- unless they are doing the marketing or are somehow ekeing out a living when their husbands will not; yet even for that -- for selling in a public marketplace, or working in a sweatshop for pennies, under a male boss -- they are criticized, often even ostracized, within their family and their village. Certainly a woman is never, ever, out in the evening unless she's a prostitute. Women measure their offspring with two numbers -- the number they've born, and the number (usually around half, but still easily six or more) that have survived past infancy. And for their decades of hard work to take care of their family, they're criticized for their wrinkles and paunch, referred to as "One whose face looks like a mule," etc.

I've been wondering how I'll handle the harassment that I'm assured I'll encounter in Morocco. Western-looking women have it worst, but it is common, apparently, for all women to be harassed on a daily, constant basis. Stares, tongue-clicking and muttering when walking by are the best of it; at worst, I can count on being groped (especially in crowded, anonymous places) and even having my hair stroked and pulled (blonde tresses being such an anomoly in rural areas).

My dear friend Meleeska and I have a new tradition of evening walks, after the worst heat of the day, up around the state Capitol. Walking through my new temporary 'hood, just south of downtown, is the only place in Lincoln where I've encountered anything like the harassment that is commonplace whenever I travel. Can't go a block, some days, without a whistle or catcall. This is not a compliment, for those of you who may be thinking it so. It's a misplaced expression of power by those who generally feel powerless. It's uncomfortable to walk on by without "educating" the offender (also known as giving a piece of my mind), but to engage is only to prolong.

Like much else I've been encountering this summer -- the oppressive heat, the bouts of loneliness, the general instability/uncertainty -- I can only take the optimistic view that this is very good training for what lies ahead. As one current volunteer in Morocco, pointed out, such experiences will give me perspective on and strong solidarity with the women I hope to serve.

Haven't heard about travel plans yet, but I expect to be leaving Lincoln a month from today or tomorrow!

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Quote of the day: "When a woman has had a hard life it is said that she has been cursed by her parents or her husband because of some evil that she has done. When a man has had a hard life, it is said that he is unlucky."

-- Fatima Zohra, "The House of Si Abd Allah: The Oral History of a Moroccan Family

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Currently listening to: "Meet Podington Bear"; Coffee Break French.

3 comments:

Melissa said...

"...such experiences will give me perspective on and strong solidarity with the women I hope to serve."

That's a fabulous frame to put around those cat-calls and the more offensive expressions of harassment.

Krista said...

i really love the quote from Fatima. what happens when you feel unlucky AND cursed?

you'll be leaving one month from today. holy wow! Morocco. it sounds so romantic, doesn't it?


i have too much to say on the topic of harassment of women by the opposite gender for the "comment" space. that's a margarita conversation.

Anonymous said...

What an awesome aunt you are!

It makes me smile when thinking about what piece of your mind you'd give to such cantankerous catcallers. Give 'em hell for all of us. I definitely need to start doing such.

As always, I am so excited for your adventures and can't wait for all you'll have to share with us.