Saturday, one of the women I work with at Asnieres threw a party for the ladies in our classes. We talked about the party for almost a month before it happened. The anticipation built.
And Saturday afternoon, almost everyone came...literally. They came in their party dresses with their colorful head scarves. They brought cookies and cakes. They brought along daughters or sisters of friends. And my friend's house was packed. We packed nearly forty people in her little family room. We all smooshed together on the couch or sat knee-to-knee on the floor and chatted while we ate the hallal sausage they called Merguez, and the cookies, and the almonds, and the cakes...and the list goes on.
Then, after a while, the women all took hold of their pans and spoons, and started banging them together in time. And two of the women stood, tied scarves around their rear-ends, and danced. Not a waltz. Not a swing dance. We're talking Moroccan dancing--shaking the Northern hemisphere and shaking the Southern hemisphere in a way no one but a Moroccan can do. It seemed so strange to see the women do this. Normally, they're so proper. They sit ramrod straight in class, copying down everything I write on the board. They wear a hundred layers of clothes--a nice, practical black coat and a nice, practical black dress on top, but once they sit, you see the cartoon character socks and the colorful pajama pants that are lurking underneath. They take their turns going into a different room and praying on the same prayer mat. But they never dance. Until Saturday. And then, oh my, did they dance. They moved and shook and vibrated and danced until one of the two fell on the ground laughing so hard that she spent the next ten minutes making sure her eye makeup wasn't too smudged. It was a great time.
So, now, we're just counting down until the next one!
1 comment:
Sounds like a fun time!!!
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