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My time in Morocco was truly special for the guidance I had. My family’s neighbor from New Jersey is of Moroccan origin, and his extended family took me under their wing– giving me places to stay, incredible meals, and an amazing insider’s view to the country. I cannot thank them enough for their hospitality, our conversations about politics and religion, delicious food, and guidance. A. did not hesitate to invite me to a family wedding, which was a spectacle of noise, color, flavors, and joy.
The ladies of the family saw that I was dressed appropriately and all welcomed me, joking that I was “Obama’s daughter.” The event involved several changes of dress by the bride, the most impressive involving a heavy golden headdress. The family circled around the couple, dancing and stuffing money into the lapels of the groom. A woman created an intricate henna design on the hand of the bride. And, the whole time, there was noise. A. explained to me that the blaring of trumpets and singing and clapping was intended to announce that this marriage was something to celebrate, not to hide.
Everyone had warned me ahead of time about how delicious the food would be, and indeed I ate pastries and meat and fruit until I was ready to burst. A few insisted that I would not be allowed to leave Morocco until I had gained 5 kilos to my underweight frame. I was on my way…
