6/17 Metaphor for the 'Sacred Divide'

As far as learning the language, today I had my first epiphany. Culminating mainly from getting ‘papa’ to help me with the pronunciation of my vocabulary words, I’ve finally started to really get down the difference between the consonants and their emphatic equivalents. All of a sudden my ears somewhat opened and I can now begin to differentiate between the various emphasizes. Also, though we haven’t mentioned short vowels yet, there are only two more consonants left in the alphabet, and compared to what vocab the other class is learning, I’d say we’re quickly catching up.

The afternoon lecture concerned the hijab, which serves as a physical, visual, and spatial boundary, and is a metaphor for the ‘sacred divide.’ Discussion mainly moved to how it fits in with the modernizing, global world. Surprisingly, the hijab isn’t considered a “reveiling” but rather a new movement, started in the Iranian revolution (though now has lost most of its political connotations) and continued in a Arabian feminine liberation movement. Four main points that the hijab serves: conforming wearers to hide social status (though with today’s fashion this seems to be broken), protection for women (including less street harassment) b/c wearers are less questioned on where/why they go wherever, wearers are taken more seriously, and more religious freedom as they no longer need permission to go to a mosque. We also talked about how fashion has taken over some head coverings, which aren’t nec. Hijab’s, and we spoke of the reaction to France’s forbidding of the covering (apparently the head religious officials have given wearers pardon).

After returning from the lecture ‘the guys’ (my brother and dad and I) went down to the hammam, the public bathhouse. Wow! This will definitely be one of the highlights of the entire trip. Before entering, we stopped by a souk and bought a Kif for me, which is a rough-ish washcloth that fits over your hand. This has been the second time that Hemsa has helped me get a 10 DH item for less, this time it was 7.5 DH, about $1 (I bought a green one, as it is the only color I know how to say) . We turned left down a small alley after the sausage salesman, and right down a smaller alley at the “FAR” graffiti (Force Army of Rabat, Morocco's first official national army, and the self-proclaimed name of the soccer team). Walking by the door I would never have guessed there was an entire bathhouse inside. Hemsa called in, and the last remnants of the females left. Apparently, women use the hammam from 10AM-6PM (it was around 7:20), and men use the same one from 6-10PM. Walking in, the hammam seemed just like a house, except with tiles completely on the floor and shoulder high. But the house kept opening up. We walked down a short passage to an open cashier booth. We stripped down to our undergarments in the gelsa, which was separated from direct view by a wall stretching halfway across. The cashier room had cubbies to put our bags in as we went inside. The lecture on the hammam was only last week, but already I was surprised at what I saw. First of all, to enter I opened the large wooden door and was welcomed with a hug of warm air. Thanks to a heavy wood block on a rope leveraging it back, the door closed on its own as I entered. The hammam is separated into three rooms, each room with small cylindric vents opening to an attic about a foot higher, which I assume opened to the sky at some point. Each room itself was arched up so as to trap the hot air, and was cut off from the other rooms by walls on either side around a middle walkway. Arches also separated the rooms, and the entire nexus gradually sloped upward with a drain at the bottom. As I walked up to each successive room, the temperature got successively hotter, with the first just slightly humid, the second slightly higher than lukewarm, and the last sweatingly hot. Each room had pipes which provided cold water, and the last room had a fountain pool of hot water, warmed by coals unseen. We left our stuff in the middle room, and I helped Hemsa fill 6 buckets with warm water (after rinsing them) for the 3 of us. We then topped off each bucket with cold water to reach the perfect temp. Meanwhile Mohamed rinsed an edge of the last room for us to sit and lie. We did so, the two doing ‘guy talk’ and me asking questions. I can see how this would be one of the greatest traditions, especially when it comes to male bonding. We lay in the sauna for at least an hour, stretching, relaxing, and pouring water from the hot water to drench ourselves.

The hammam also offers a massager, kessala, who for 30 DH will rub you down. I’m told the male massages are rougher than the women, and I think he rubbed off my sunburn, but I survived, as well as stayed in the hottest room for just as long as the locals! After laying for the front and back rubdown (neck, arms, trunk, legs, and buttocks) I started tingling like the needles you feel when circulation returns to areas where it was shut off before. I guess that’s how hard the massage was. But it all felt great. Afterwards, we scrubbed down, shampooing, and my klutz self christening the whole process by getting soap in my eye at the very beginning. Partially blinded, I somehow managed, and washed down while the kessala visited everyone else. Hemsa and I practiced the “you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours principle, and afterwards we cleaned off our kis’ and went back out to change. A picture of Hanan 2 stared at us change into fresh clothes, feeling more refreshed than I did in Colorado when I jumped from the hot tub to the frost and back again.

We came back from the Hammam to catch the end of the Italy-France game, which every male adult seemed to be watching (no women though) along all the café’s we passed. Even the men in the Hammam were talking about it. I think everyone else in the program is getting a little sick of watching soccer, but I, for one, find this European Cup to be my constant (for the Lost fans)– keeping me through the craziness.