Wednesday, September 06, 2006

D-E-A-T-H

24 Aout 2006

We went to a funeral.

One of the old women who we interviewed recently, died the night
before last. I'm not sure why, I'm guessing old age, but she seemed
very healthy at the time. Still, the occurrence of any kind of medical
emergency here, like stroke, heart attack or knife-wound (it could
happen...) pretty much spells d-e-a-t-h. 'Cause whaddya gonna do?

Anyway, we glorious three, (no longer 4, now that Nene msheyt (left)
shewr Amerik and hamburgers) went over to the house to offer our
condolences. Nevermind that I didn't know the right Hassaniyan phrases
to use in such a situation. I never know what to say at funerals in
America (who does?) so there's no way I'm going to attempt something
like that in a language I've spoken all of a month and a half. So
instead I just sat there on the hsera beside Haddou, and tried to look
pensive in a melancholy way as he said a few things here and there. I
realized he's not much better at this that I.

Some of the men I knew (this was gender segregated grieving) from
sight, some I had never seen before. One had a big silver pinkie ring.
One had a giant goiter, self consciously covered, and spoke with
slurred speech. No one seemed that sad - there were no tears at all, at
least while I was there, yet neither was anyone overly exuberant (of
course not). All the emotions seemed somehow capped, or muffled. In
fact, it was exactly what I would have expected to see when someone of
a certain age dies for a certain reason in a society that sees all
events as the inevitable and inimitable will of God.

It's worth noting that I felt almost entirely comfortable, though
naturally somewhat out of place. Granted, I had Haddou as a buffer
against any unintelligible questions, (Poor Sarah - over there alone,
thrown to the wolves with all those chatty women) but still there was
something undeniably soothing about sitting on the mat under the Neem
tree, in the late afternoon, with a warm, easy breeze blowing, knowing
that it should feel so alien, and rejoicing that I think I could stay
here forever.

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