I spent the night after the Eid with another family—friends of my host fam who have been a bit of a second host family to me. (I’ve gone over to their house when I’m locked out, they’ve fed me dinner, and they’re the ones from whom I’m renting the apartment) They invited me for the Eid, and when I said that I was staying with my host fam, they insisted I spend the next night with them. Adorable.
They’re incredibly sweet and though they’ve been reserved in the past, spending a longer period of time in the house allowed me to get to know them a lot better. They speak less French than my host fam (though still more than my Arabic) and speak to me mostly in Darija (especially when I speak to them in Darija). For some reason, I felt more like I was actually a part of things than I usually am with my host family. I became included in the discussion of TV choice (they even found American movies so that I would understand), and they let me help in the kitchen. Over dinner, I asked what was in the carrot salad, and one of the sisters, Hyat, told me she would make it again with me the next day so that I could learn how.
While making the carrot salad, Hyat was putting spices in another pot, to which she added some meat. She asked me if I knew what it was, and when I took a look, it looked like brain. I pointed to my head. Correct. Then, she put the pot on the stove, and asked me to stir it a bit, because she was going to the hammam. So there I was, in charge of a pot of brains.
Over the last few days, I’ve eaten way more sheep parts than I ever cared to taste: liver, heart, lungs, stomach, possibly tongue… Lunch on Thursday was a bit intense. In addition to the stewed brains, out of the other pot, came an entire sheep’s head. The women in the house began digging in, pulling out pieces of meat and telling me to kouli. I had a really hard time complying.
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