I'm in the middle of a gray period where I've finished one year but I'm not yet a second-year. The sophomore semester is longer than the others (I'm a Junior when the Youth vols ahead of me vamoose, and then I'm a senior when the new group that replaces me arrives).
So, back to normal. Ramadan is over, the school year has begun again, my preferred baker is back from his month sojourn to see his family in Tinrirt, and I've already bought and consumed a couple of loaves from him. The town is full again, people are no longer spending the majority of the day hiding in the shade while they wait for the sun to go down to break the fast. And they seem so happy about it, the souk has started two days early!
Also, I'm finally processed in the immigration system... this morning I sat for an hour while my chief gendarme finished the last touches and then he handed me my carte de sejour -- the national ID for foreigners residing in Morocco. ''Daba, unta bhal mgribi!'' Not sure if he said it quite like that, but he either said Now you are Moroccan! Or else he said, Now you are like a Moroccan!
So this is nice. The biggest absence, too, was the lack of young people in the streets during Ramadan. Not so anymore, since school is in session, and since they all have different schedules, there's constantly tiny kids with backpacks walking the half mile down the main street, a few dozen coming and a few dozen going.
But this is the normal-normal, but the Ramadan normal was nice and parts of it are missed. Two days after it ended, half of the family we had living in our house left... Osama the 6-year old, Sbah the 5-year old, Iman the 3-year old. Mohammed my favorite guy my age, who went back to study in Agadir at the university there. So while I'm happy to be back on a good schedule, it's not without its bittersweet aspects. And all the people in my region are half checked out, the end for them in sight and their next plans taking shape as the days pass.
Take care! Mbruk l'eid sgir.
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