Huzzah for harira!

If you travel to Morocco with the hopes of stuffing your face with couscous, the most famous of Moroccan dishes, you will be sorely disappointed during the month of Ramadan. Since I’ve been here, I’ve dined on couscous exactly twice, both times in restaurants that cater to tourists.

For those of us who are used to Near East’s three minute boxed couscous (a noble variety), it’s hard to fathom how labor-intensive the dish truly is. Moroccan couscous, traditionally served on Friday, can easily take three hours to prepare: The couscous is stewed in broth and then served with vegetables and/or meat. While I have a soft spot for the boxed variety, to compare the two dishes is truly an insult to the latter.

Anyway, couscous isn’t eaten during Ramadan because the fast is usually broken with other dishes, and, once an afternoon has been devoted to preparing a special Ramadan meal, the last thing people want to do is hunker down and make couscous.

So, what do Moroccans eat during Ramadan? Traditionally, the fast is broken with a sip of water or juice and a date. Harira, a delicious flour-based soup with lentils and spices, is served at every meal, as are hard-boiled eggs (accompanied by cumin and salt). Bread is a must, from plain wheels of white bread to delicious baghrir, the Moroccan equivalent of crepes, which are served with jam and happy cow cheese. Sweets of every shape and kind are ubiquitous – I’ve yet to develop a taste for super-sugary pastries, but maybe it will come with time. Of course, strong coffee and mint tea conclude the meal.

Even though I’m not living with a host family, I’ve still had several chances to break the fast with Moroccan families and take advantage of the famous Moroccan hospitality. Our landlord invited us to his apartment for Iftar, which resulted in a hilarious conversation with his mother about 1980s hair; a fellow Fulbrighter’s host family had the whole gang over for Iftar; and, in perhaps one of my most random experiences in Morocco to date, my housemates and I were invited to Iftar at the home of a nice young man who may or may not want to marry one of us as part of a plan to expand his business to the United States. In Morocco, it’s not strange at all to invite nearly perfect strangers home for Iftar. In fact, it’s rude not to.

I’m always grateful for any opportunity to get out of the house and have a home-cooked (free!) meal, and breaking the fast with Moroccan families inevitably leads to some interesting cross-cultural interactions. To many Moroccans, overfeeding their guests to the point of discomfort is a point of pride. Maneuvering this situation is difficult enough when it’s not Ramadan, but during Ramadan it’s even more difficult to get out of that second or third bowl of harira, since families assume that I’m as hungry as they are. Which I’m not, since I’ve eaten regular meals all day. But, by explaining that I don’t fast, I’m opening up a whole new can of worms. If I’m not Muslim, what am I? (One memorable interaction with a cabbie: Him- “Are you fasting?” Me- “No.” Him- “You are Christian?” Me, emphatically- “Yes!”) Maybe, they suggest without a hint of judgment, I should try fasting. Just to see how it is.

Maybe I should. Everything in Fes seems to run on Ramadan time- The city is eerily quiet when I head to school at 8:30 am, frantic when I leave school at 5 pm, and chaotically exuberant when I try to sleep at midnight. But then again, our class schedule shows little consideration for Ramadan time, and the thought of fasting through 6 hours of class is daunting at best.

And so I sneak snacks at school, continue to furtively drink water, and count down the days until eid al-kabeer, the end of Ramadan, when the city will come alive during the day again. And, in sha allah, I'll be able to get some halfway decent internet again.