Upon arrival to morocco we learned that baraka, refers to an act of god in the form of a blessing, i.e. the king evading an attempted assassination. So this week when I asked to bathe in the hamman, a woodfired sauna/steamroom, I was told that the neighbor had their hamman heated and I was to go use theirs. Now you need to know that the normal hamman experience lasts hours, so I entered the hamman under the impression that this would be a relaxing experience. I sat there soaking in the soothing heat reflecting on the days events for 15 minutes, when my host mother, Fatima, knocked on the door. Now my tamazigt (the language) isn’t perfect, but what I understood was “Andrew is the heat ok or do you what me to continue to stoke the fire until your desired heating preference is attained.” “Yeah” I responded “Thank you, Fatima, the heat is perfect, you may rest my dear.” A few minutes later she came aknocking again. “Andrew… blah blah blah… baraka” my brain interpreted this as “Andrew you are real gift from heaven” “oh thank you Fatima, I do what I can” I thought. I drifted off to my own thoughts when again, I was rudely interpreted by someone knocking upon the door, this time it was my host sister, Aziza. Aziza speaks some Spanish, thus allowing us to communicate with the fluency of toddlers. She again reminded me that I was indeed “baraka” a gift of God and that there were “otra chicas entra la hamman” (other women entering the hamman) wow I thought being a “baraka” really has its benefits here. “Hold on one second I don’t have my pants on” I yelled out. After dressing myself suitably for the company of ladies I waited patiently. Finally Aziza returned and insisted I open the door as I did she grabbed me and told me to get the hell out of the hamman. As I quickly dressed and was hurried out of the changing room I noticed a row of scowling women lined up just outside the hamman in the cold night air. The next day in class we learned that “baraka” not only means gift from God but also hurry up as in get the hell out of the hamman we’re freezing; white man. Timing, it’s all about timing.
p.s. the next day while interviewing several of the townspeople, I was identified as the “guy from the hammam.”
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