Hot Nights

So I think I just had a fun, new cultural experience with my new family. It’s a little hard to tell sometimes.

If there’s one thing that I can say about my new family, it’s that they love to eat. The only thing that they seem to enjoy more is feeding me, to the point where I am past full and almost in pain, yet still feel guilty over leaving the communal plate with a few uneaten morsels on it.

Tonight around 10:45 PM, my host sister brought out a plate full of a red sauce which I assumed to be tomato-based, along with the plate of bread obligatory at any Moroccan meal. Told to “Kul!” (translation: “Eat!” – and yes, it sounds just like “cool,” which is a constant source of entertainment for me) I simply obeyed.

To my surprise, it was not really tomato sauce as much as hot sauce, full of peppers, seeds, and whatever else one uses here to make things hot. My sister started gulping the stuff down, while I ate a little bit and enjoyed the burning sensation that began to tickle my tongue. After a couple of bites, I noticed that a few of my host family members were sitting around and looking at me in anticipation. My sister anxiously asked “Izween?” (literally: “Is it beautiful?” but used to mean “delicious” or “pleasing”) to which I answered “Nam, izween – har, wa izween.” (“Yeah it’s good – hot, but good.”) One of my host brothers came over and tried a bite, reacting strongly to the spiciness, and my host cousin started involuntarily coughing after only one bite of the bread dipped in the sauce. However, one of my host sisters ate an entire slice of bread covered in the sauce, and the first sister continued gobbling the stuff down as if it were nothing, though chasing it with large gulps of water. I followed suit, eating a few slices of bread at a moderate pace and drinking the glass of tea they had given me.

So, if this were a test, I think I passed. At any rate, a few of my host relatives were too afraid to touch the stuff at all, and from what I could pick out of the conversation, they were definitely talking about “heat,” “bread,” and “water” and looking at me a bit funny. Eventually, I had to stop and eat some plain bread to help my tongue, but I felt accomplished enough (and still full from our earlier dinner).

Perhaps this would have been a task better left to Grandpa Snazzy or Rene….