Errachidia

In today's issue:

1. Grocery Shopping
2. Faith
3. Health

1. GROCERY SHOPPING

Yesterday morning, Abodu's mother asked him to go and buy some chicken for that afternoon's meal. I went along with him, walking down the street and past the fields of olive trees, finally arriving in a dusty lot enclosed by adobe walls.

Inside the walls, a dog barked and strained at the chain holding him back. A man sat lazily in a chair beside a truck. A boy carried out some live chickens and threw them into a small wire trailer.

We walked into a shaded room, passing through the only door, looking directly at the only window, from which poured one ray of blinding light. The floor was bathed in blood and littered with chicken feet and feathers. The boy I had seen a few moments earlier asked Abdou how much he wanted.

"Zhuzh kilo" he told him, and the boy picked up a chicken that looked to weigh about two kilos and placed it on the scale, ignoring its protests. He handed the chicken off to a large man in dirty clothes and sandals, who put the chicken between his legs, holding the neck in front of him. Muttering a quick prayer, he sliced its throat and unceremoniously threw the still flapping animal in a large plastic bucket.



After about two long minutes, the chicken stopped moving. The man reached into the bucket, picking up the now bloody animal by its feet and bringing it over to a waiting pot of boiling water. He then dipped the animal in the water and swirled it around for a few minutes. Taking it out, he then cut off the chicken's feet, ripped off the head, and pulled out all the feathers. When he had finished, he dropped the load in a plastic bag, and we went outside to pay.

The chicken cost approximately two dollars and fifty cents, and to look at it in the plastic bag you would think it had come directly from the Perdue factory. Within an hour of its death, Abdou's mother had washeds, cut, salted, marinated and cooked the chicken.

Now that, my friends, is fresh food.



2. FAITH

I have really been giving a lot of thought lately to Islam, and faith in general, and I thought that I would share a few thoughts. One of the things that I have found most interesting about Islam, and the way that it works in Morocco, is the way in which faith plays a real part in people's lives.

Faith here is not a question of begrudgingly dragging one's self to church on Sundays or attending a synagogue ceremony a few times a year. Faith here, for the majority of the population, does not seem to be a political issue. It is rather a very constant, comforting and guiding presence that truly defines people's lives and their behavior.

As I have discussed before, much of the cultural environment of friendliness and generosity is a result of Islam. Islam provides rules and guidelines that are meant to foster a certain amount of equality and fairness. The Koran, for instance, teaches Muslims how to take care of orphans, widows, etc, going so far in some cases as to provide percentages of one's income that one should give.

Now, what I have found very strange indeed is that the Koran does not only teach Muslims how to take care of their fellow man, but also seems to be a book of rules about, well, everything.

The other night on television here, Abdou and I watched this older bearded gentleman speak about the Koran. He spoke in Arabic but was based somewhere out of the US, so the program was subtitled in English. Talking all about the Koran, he touched on some subjects with which I wholeheartedly disagreed (for example, the role of women in Islam, or at least his interpretation of this) and on others which honestly just left me really confused, and respectfully amused.

As I found out, for instance, the Koran (like the Torah) provides dietary guidelines. It also discusses how Muslims should eat (using three fingers of the right hand, which one then "has the right to lick") The Koran also discusses how "a man should purify himself after urination" and advises Muslims "not to spend a long time in the bathroom." Even stranger for me were the guidelines on such things as footwear (never wear only one sandal--wear either two or none at all; put the right shoe on first, take the left off first) and bathroom entry (always enter with the right foot, leave with the left).

Now, excuse me, and I truly mean no disrespect to the holy book of millions. But I would love for someone to explain to me why God would take his time discussing footwear with the Prophet.

I don't know. These questions remain to be answered. To be fair, I talked them over with Abdou and Co. and they told me that these are not strict rules. And they also think that women should be able to work, etc, so they don't agree with the TV bearded guy on that question either. There is much to learn, much to read, much to investigate...

3. HEALTH

I have decided to continue with my tradition of occasionally visiting foreign hospitals and clinics. It is good way to see the local population and engage with them in a way otherwise impossible.

In that spirit, I went and got myself and strange and mysterious infection in my thumb, and decided to place on block on my intestines, allowing nothing at all to exit for five or six days.

I undertake such experiments in the name of science. Do not try them at home.

So, I dragged my weighty body and swollen thumb to the clinic down the road from Abdou. It was hot as hell, so I wrapped by head up like a Saharawi. When we got there, neither the doctor nor the nurse had arrived yet. The waiting room was already packed with women and their children. Children with dehydration, children with colds and coughs. New mothers and their newborn babies.

In typical Moroccan fashion, the women rushed me to the front, and I only had to wait a half hour or so. The doctor saw me, laughed with me a few moments about my name (do you have the same profession as your namesake, James Bond?), gave me a few prescriptions, and sent me off to the nurse.

The nurse, a dirty looking guy in sandals, was not nearly as professional as the doctor. He grabbed a needle (sterile, Mom, I promise, I checked it closely, it was new and unused), no gloves, pricked the growing pus filled thumb, squeezed it a bit (mostly for show, I think, since my thumb seems just as pus filled as before), wiped it off with a square centimeter of guaze and sent me off into the world, unbandaged and not much better off.

But, I'll be okay. Abdou too is studying to be a nurse and says he'll wrap me up good. And if not, well, it's just a thumb, right?

Be good, more to come soon.