A Natural Born Sprayer

You may have never considered your urinating tendencies. To be honest, neither had I until recently. Yet again, I meet the hole in the ground, and this time, with less fortune than the last. I have just arrived at my temporary abode, and yet again, I find the hole is the only throne in the bathroom. WONDERFUL. So, I manned up a bit, psyched myself out, ya know- and waited till I could wait no longer. Then, I took the dreaded walk to the hamaam, stripped down to nothing as to avoid soiling my clothing, and positioned myself on the footholds (clever these footholds, although they do nothing for a gal like me). After stripping, I surveyed the land and of course, no toilet paper. I put my pants back on and trodded through the apartment shaking my fists at 'this country', took some tp from my stash, and returned to the to the dreadful place. I undressed again and took one last deep breath. Back on the footholds, deep squat, 1-2-3. And then, I came to my realization. I, Megan Cairns, am a natural born sprayer. I proceeded to urinate all over my feet. "Yum City" as a friend of mine would say. Ummm, how about not. I do not like this pee on feet, I do not like this- it's far from neat. So, next time you take a seat on that beautiful throne (especially ladies), take a moment to think: how would you fare with the hole in the ground? Sprayers, beware of the hole.

Now, humor aside. Today has been rough. Hardcore rough. At the same time, it has been exceedingly wonderful:

Today was the first day of school. I had a good night's sleep, at least 12 hours. I woke up and ate a scrumptious bowl of 'corn flakes' with a peach, some brazil nuts, and some coconut yogurt (something the states needs to get ahold of, yum). After a little cat nap, I geared up for school. I packed a turkey pita, some plums, a few cheese triangles (also love la vache qui rit, very popular here- they have a whole aisle of the grocery store), and a diet coke. Pretty much, an American lunch. What can I say, Ana Amrekeeya. I packed my backpack, put on some make up for the first time in a month, donned my glasses for intelligence sake, and left the house. Abderrahim came down with me to see me on my way. I couldn't help but smile, remembering the days when my mom would take a picture of me all set for the first day when I was in elementary school, it was always taken on this pink arm chair we used to have at our house. Anyhow, I digress.

So, Jude (my motorcycle) and I sped off in excitement. Just 10 minutes later, I arrived at my school. I saw Tim (another OSU student) for the first time and we had a catch up chat. We're in the same class, which is ironic considering we had never met eachother back at home, and now, in Fez, we're in a class of 4 together. The other two students came to join us soon after and we shared trials and tribulations of our time here thus far. Mostly, it was sick stories and difficulties finding housing. I was comforted to find that others had experienced much difficulty in finding a place to stay (some not, of course, and of them, I am jealous). But, when I shared my current situation (living with three small children, with no room of my own, far from the school, and with a limit on my freedom regarding even friendship with males) they were quick to suggest that I meet a girl named Zeinab (who later would save my life). She was looking for a roomate, they told me, and it would cost $150USD a month. Umm, ok. I was paying Samira $400USD a month and she just finished eating about $50 of the food I bought just the other day. So, RIP OFF. I couldn't wait to meet Zeinab, and though I thought about her frequently, I fully enjoyed my first class!

To my fellow classmates- I am sorry that I drug you through so much grammer. I do like it I suppose. And I think, just maybe, I'm a bit of a perfectionist :). I don't think it bothered them too much, though. It was a good review. And I was surprised at how much I remembered (and how much my review yesterday helped). Our teacher is wonderful, Abdelhafid. Great guy, trickster. Love it.

After class, I impatiently awaited Zeinab. I shared my lunch with Ben, a classmate. And on my way to the bathroom, I saw her. I just knew it was her. "Zeinab?" I asked. And of course, it was her. I shook her hand and introduced myself as her new roomate. She smiled, and things have been wonderful since. We will, enshallah, be living just 10 minutes walking from school in a 2 bedroom apt with a huge terrace for, thats right, $150USD/month. Damn Straight. She's cool with male visitors as long as they don't spend the night, she has them herself. She's an english teacher at the school, but also speaks a bit of Spanish and of course French, MSA, and Darija. Love her.

The second teacher, Touraya, a doll! I can already tell we'll be bffs. She's adorable, and she gave us 2 hours of PRACTICAL information. We spoke a ton, reviewed numbers and time. It was fantastic.

After that, I left school to call my dad to review my living situation. All was a go with him. All that was left was telling Abderrahim and Samira. Prepare for complete and herendous TERROR! Samira flipped a shit. HARDCORE. She wouldn't let me speak. Among her criticisms were:

Do you know, Megan, that I can sue you? Do you know American law? I can sue you because we had an oral agreement that you would pay me $400/month!

You're selfish! You were using me to suit your own interests!

Pay me for the days you were here and the days you ate with my family.

Don't ever treat another person like this, ever again.

You think you're a responsible 20 year-old, you're not. You have no idea what you're doing. (Basically, you won't survive in Morocco without me- to that, watch me!)

And the best part, she wouldn't let me speak, not even to say that I am grateful for all she has done for me, that I appreciate everything, that I simply want my own space and want to live with someone my own age, that I think it will work better for both of us. When I said thank you, she replied that she didn't even want to hear my thank you, that she wouldn't accept it, and that my stuff should be out of the house by the morning. Wonderful! Although, in all honesty, I wanted out ASAP at that point anyhow.

Following that was about 3 hours of crying. I spent 2 1/2 blaming myself for everything, crying to Mohammed, to Zeinab, to my dad. My dad was the best one. I was on a pay phone on the street, using a phone card. My sobs soon attracted a crowd of men and women wanting to help. The begged me to explain in French, so I tried. It was Fraribiclish, the best I could manage post sobs. So, someone went to fetch the resident English speaker, who served as my translator to ease the group and then invited me to have a juice with him. Mohammed was his name. He had me enter his number into my phone as 'Mohamed, Brother.' "You stay at my house and pay nothing," he told me many times. "God rewards good people, and if I am good to you, enshallah one day you will help my children. You are a good person! It's not you're fault." For him, I am grateful. I needed that reminder. There's some sort of divine order to all of this seeming chaos.

After calming down, I returned to the house. Well, not really. Adnaan, my friend/Abderrahim's cousin, came down to talk to me for a while. We discussed the situation, possibilities, what he thought was best. I think he maintained hope that living with them would work, but through another convo with my dad, I remained firm in my decision to leave. But he continued to assure me that they like me a lot, that they want me there, etc etc. So, we went up together, and I was greeted with a whole lot of nothing: oh yes, the silent treatment (which some of you know, makes me want to kill someone). They wouldn't let me interact with the kids, as if I had some sort of contagious disease or had committed a crime. I had come to reconcile with them, but there was no reconciling to be done. I heard the tone of their voices as they continued to bitch about me to Adnaan. So I walked out. I packed up all my stuff, gathered all my food and took all the things that I had purchased for the house (those that hadn't been rudely consumed already, at least).

Thank God for Adnaan and his willingness to help me, even though I am the outsider. He brought me to his house, let me use his computer, he's a godsend. I'm here now, exhausted, sad, a little angry, and with lots and lots of homework to do. I don't imagine it will happen till tomorrow. Enshallah, tomorrow will be better. And Friday- To Rabat!

Blessings, may your day be better than mine was.