Weather is the story today

Listening to the 404 while I type, so my writing might suffer an IQ dip-- they make me wish I had brought my XBOX 360 to Morocco with me like I'd thought about (a guy in Bolivia did this and didnt regret it a single minute, since I got my first taste of BioShock during Evacuation way back when). The one video game I've been able to play here is called Bounce, and while Ive known a few people that have spent up to 2 months trying to pass the same level, Ive beaten the game and now feel this empty space in my soul, an existential crisis on a small scale.

But, the weather. Ramadanites have gotten lucky, it's been nothing but shade and rain in Nkob, even to the point of thunder and lightning nearly every other day. Today its dusty, to the point that it looks like London (though I heard London isnt foggy anymore, it was just the industrial age smog that's since cleared up, fyi).

Last night was the first breaking-the-fast of Ramadan, and having finished up my jog, an hour spent on the ground inside the palmerie where people were climbing the palm trees picking dates, I came up to our casbah and saw Omar, one of my favorite people in town. He's a porter that has a motorcycle with a trailer attached to the end. He told me he was tired, doing twice as many trips as he normally does without having eaten or drank anything all day, and he asked me if I wanted to go have ftor with him. Ftor is Arabic for breakfast, and I said yes, hopped in the back of his trailer and we rode through the ancient part of Nkob, where he lives beside the mosque.

He has a nice, small courtyard and since this was my first time I got to see those people that are hidden away from Main Street, his wife and family. Sitting there, it was a treat to see him stretch out in a chair, hands outstretched, groaning, 'Allah!' and 'Tbrakallah' while the rain doused us both, the minutes melting away while our table slowly filled with those special treats for Ramadan. I wondered what special goodies his family had for us, and as the mzzien rang out, Allahu Akbar!, we feasted on dates, Inside Bread 'arroum bouyensou', two cups of coffee each with so much milk it tasted like hot chocolate, shbekiyah which is fried bread dipped in honey, rolled very tightly and sprinkled with sesame seeds, plus an endless bowl of soup with little pieces of fat and chicken throughout.

I see now how much my blog is suffering from not having a computer. I channel my energy to letter writing instead, but I wish I could do more. But this won't last. I'll write about summer camp next. Ciao!