Yesterday was our first hub day, which means the first day back from our training site. We're not allowed to post the exact name for security reasons, but it's about half an hour east of here off the main road. It's very sleepy and small. My host family is a couple in their 30s, the dad's mother (who's the same age as my mom, but looks about 80), and three boys, age 3, 8, and 10. The level of hospitality is completely overwhelming sometimes--they stuff you full of food at every meal, and if you walk past someone's house and say hello, they will probably invite you in for tea, even strangers.
Language is going pretty well, but it's still frustrating to be back at such a basic level of communication. My family speaks no English at all, but I have been able to communicate some amount of information through a combination of my limiting Darija (Moroccan Arabic) and hand gestures. There's a lot of laughing (mostly at me).
I started helping out in the house right away, partially because I wanted to and partially because silence is less awkward when you're doing something. My mom would be proud--I've become the designated dish-washer for every meal that I'm at home. There's no running water or drain or sink in the kitchen, so dish-washing involves sitting or squatting on the concrete floor with a bucket of soapy water and a bucket for waste water. I consider myself pretty competent at domestic tasks like cooking and dish-washing at home, but my host mom looks at me like I'm an idiot when it takes me more than three minutes to wash all the dinner dishes.
I'll post more about the house and family later, and once I feel comfortable I'll take pictures of them. (The little boy especially is so adorable.) We're going back to CBT today, which means no internet for another 10 days or so--a strange adjustment.
Language is going pretty well, but it's still frustrating to be back at such a basic level of communication. My family speaks no English at all, but I have been able to communicate some amount of information through a combination of my limiting Darija (Moroccan Arabic) and hand gestures. There's a lot of laughing (mostly at me).
I started helping out in the house right away, partially because I wanted to and partially because silence is less awkward when you're doing something. My mom would be proud--I've become the designated dish-washer for every meal that I'm at home. There's no running water or drain or sink in the kitchen, so dish-washing involves sitting or squatting on the concrete floor with a bucket of soapy water and a bucket for waste water. I consider myself pretty competent at domestic tasks like cooking and dish-washing at home, but my host mom looks at me like I'm an idiot when it takes me more than three minutes to wash all the dinner dishes.
I'll post more about the house and family later, and once I feel comfortable I'll take pictures of them. (The little boy especially is so adorable.) We're going back to CBT today, which means no internet for another 10 days or so--a strange adjustment.
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