Eid al Kabir, part 2

During the preparation of the boulfef meal, cousins and uncles dropped by to say hello, sometimes multiple times. Afterwards, it was time for my friend Anass to do the same. He invited me to join him as he participated in this masculine visiting ritual, and I readily agreed.

The first house we visited was only a few blocks away, which explained why the uncle and cousin had stopped by multiple times during the morning. The family was watching a Moroccan movie called "The Sheep" (think Eid al Kabir kitsch on the order of "It's a Wonderful Life" for Christmas) and eating their meal of boulfef. Apparently some of the family members dislike sheep innards (I can't imagine why...), and so they had cooked an entire chicken for the sheep guts-haters in the family. They invited me to eat, and so I bellied up to the table and ate along with them, my second boulfef meal of the day. They all chatted in Arabic, paying special attention to me, asking where I was from and if I liked Morocco. (In contrast to some European countries where the polite thing to do is to totally ignore the guest.)

The second house was a little further away. They had a gigantic parlor with Moroccan couches lining every wall, enough to seat dozens of guests. They had finished the boulfef meal but had some sweets and tea to offer the 10 or so guests who were currently there. And they were also watching the Eid movie "The Sheep".

The third set of Anass's relatives lived in the medina. So for safety reasons, Anass' brother stayed with the car while we entered. After winding through narrow covered alley ways, we entered a small room maybe a tenth of the size of the previous parlor filled with the same number of people. Two or three people had to stand once we arrived and were given seats.

Never one to let sweets pass me by even after huge meals, I inquired about some cookies sitting on the table. They told me the name of the cookies and encouraged me to eat some. So, of course, I did.

Anass didn't seem to want to stay long. After just a few minutes of chitchat in the crowded room, he stood up to leave. He said his goodbyes, and I began to follow suit. However, before I could get far, the grandmother figure who was sitting nearest the cookies, the object of my curiosity, asked if I wanted to take some with me. I knew it was impolite to refuse food, so I agreed to take some. She went into the kitchen and rummaged around until she found a large plastic bag. Then she came back to the table and started stuffing the cookies into the bag like nobody's business. I said, "That's good. Thanks." She just shook her head at me as if I didn't know what I really wanted. She kept stuffing cookies in the bag. I reached out for the bag and repeated, "Thanks. That's good." She didn't stop. I tried to wrest control of the bag from her as she continued to stuff cookies into it. After a mini-tussle between the cookie-packing grandmother and me, I emerged with a bag filled with a few dozen Eid al Kabir cookies.

As we left the small room, Anass led me in the opposite direction from which we had entered and into a gigantic open space. I realized then that his family were not poor medina-dwellers. They owned one of the ancient riadhs, beautiful homes built into the walls of the old city complete with courtyards, baths and tiled walls close to 30 feet tall. We took some photos of everyone and then got back into the car to leave.

After the family visits, I parted ways with Anass. I thanked him for the food and the opportunity to accompany him on the family visits, and then I came back to the house and checked on Daniel. He had come down with serious flu-like symptoms and ended up spending the entire day in bed. As I closed my curtains to head to bed, I noticed the sheep carcasses strung outside, ready for a week's worth of cooking.

I sat down to read. But I was so stuffed that I couldn't concentrate. I could feel the blood engorging my stomach. Soon I had fallen asleep on the couch.

An hour or two later, my phone rang. It was Anass: "We're waiting for you to eat dinner." I jumped up, got ready, and headed out the door.

As soon as I got in the door, his family immediately inquired about Daniel. "He's still not feeling very well," I said. They insisted that I take some medicine that they had on hand over to Daniel. So Anass and I headed right back over to our house and we gave him the medicine.

When we returned, Anass' father was working on a used bike with training wheels, preparing it as a gift to give to some cousins. Anass' mother sat next to me and we started talking a little bit about the holiday Eid al Kabir. She asked if I knew the story.

"Yes, I know the story. It's actually very similar to one found in the Bible."
"Oh, ok."
"Except in the Bible, it's Isaac and not Ishmael."
"Oh no, it's Ishmael."
"Yes, Muslims believe it was Ishmael. Christians and Jews believe it was Isaac."
"Well, that's wrong."

A little later, I was called to the table to eat Dawara, the sheep's cooked intestines. I was so stuffed; I didn't want to eat any more. But I knew it wasn't polite to refuse the meal. It was slow-going, but I started making a dent in my section of the gigantic serving bowl. Anass' mother reproached me, "You're not eating anything."

I responded, "I am. I'm eating. Look."
"That's nothing. You're not eating anything."

I kept plugging away, but it was so difficult. The sauce on the Dawara was actually quite good. The problem wasn't the sheep's intestines; it was my intestines and how full they already were. Eventually I couldn't do anymore. So I said "Hamdullah", wiped my hands, and swore off sheep's guts for at least a year.

After the meal, Anass' father showed me the dual language French-Arabic Koran that the family uses. I was surprised to learn that a well-off, educated Arab speaker requires French help to understand the Koran. Theoretically, Modern Standard Arabic is the same as Koranic Arabic with just some slight vocabulary and grammar changes.

We sat around watching TV and then I went back home. Daniel still wasn't feeling very good. I tried to read again, but again failed to get far. I was asleep in no time at all.