It hasn’t escaped the attention of anyone on the streets of Morocco or in my program that I look somewhat Moroccan. I can’t go 20 minutes in any medina (city) without someone either
a. speaking to me in Arabic
b. being surprised I don’t speak Arabic
c. asking me if my name is Fatima
I don’t understand the Fatima thing. Maybe it’s the most common Arab name for girls? Maybe they call all girls they meet Fatima? Because it’s not exactly like they are asking me if that’s my name…it’s more like, “You’re name is Fatima, right?”
It’s enough as it is to walk down the street and hear the constant psss psss from the horny Moroccan boys who have no game and only know how to whisper at girls. But the Fatima thing on top of it is just annoying. But hilarious.
At least no one is telling me I have eyes Japanese like they do to Margy.
If they don’t think I’m Moroccan usually it’s pretty obvious to everyone that I’m Indian. Moroccans love Indians; they think they are gorgeous (even when they aren’t). They also love that I’m American–because Americans are loose. Being Indian American is a win-win to them.
4 ways that being brown has worked to my advantage
- I got a pair of awesome pants, a purse, and a leather folder for about 170 ds (30 dollars) in Casablanca. The shop owner wasn’t just giving me the “good price, democratic price” but the “you are one of us, you and me we are the same” price.
- A shop owner in Chefchouen gave me a free pair of beautiful earrings because I sat down and had a conversation with him–about India.
- I can walk around after dark in Meknes feeling pretty safe. Guys don’t try and bother me because they think I’m just another Moroccan girl (meaning I’m not putting out).
- The line, “I’m not paying that! I’m Indian, therefore I am cheap” can usually lower a price.
A typical conversation I have, at least twice a day.
Moroccan man: Salaam! (Hey!)
Me: Salaam! (Hey!)
MM: speaks in Arabic too fast for me to understand
Me: Smeheeli. La attakalum Arabiya (Sorry, I don’t speak Arabic.)
MM: confused look. Francais?
Me: La attakalum Francais. Fakt Ingleezi. (I don’t speak French. Only English.)
MM: points to his face. Anti Maghribiya! (You’re Moroccan!)
Me: La. Ana Amrikiya. Walidaty hindiya. (No. I’m American. My mother is Indian.)
MM: Hindiya! Shahrukh Khan! Amitabh Bachan! (Indian! Shahrukh Kahn! Amitabh Bachchan!)
MUY MUY BEUNNO
i love that three of the four things you get out of being brown involve you spending less money. cheapskate.
i love this.
At least no one is telling me I have eyes Japanese like they do to Margy.
but what are eyes Japanese?
BROWNIE POINTS FOR TAS.
Hello there,
This is Deven’s sister. She had a link to your blog from her blog and I thought I’d check it out because she’s really lacking in the whole writing and posting thing. I’ve read a few of your blogs and not only do your experiences sound awesome but the way that you write about them is awesome. Give my sister a hug for me and keep enjoying your time there!
Lauren
I stumbled upon your blog, while searching for some info on Moroccan Women, and wow its hilariously nice to read those words and your conversation with Moroccans
I am an Indian living in Middle East from past two years, and I go through the “you are Indian ??” thing most of the time.
Nice read btw.