a moroccan birth ceremony

I have a lot to catch up on! Two weeks ago, my host mom, Naima, asked if I would like to go with her to a traditional Moroccan birth ceremony, which are held on the third and seventh day after a child is born. This particular ceremony was held on the third day after the baby boy, Yassire, was born. It is intended only for women, and gifts, money and kisses are given in plenty. We took a taxi to Sale (saalay), about 10 minutes over the Bouregreg River, and first visited her mother and sister. They are all very small women and I felt like the Yeti, but that has nothing to do with this birth ceremony.

We arrived at the house of the woman who gave birth and were greeted by about 30 women, every single one wearing a jellabah (I found it bizarre that Naima was not). We congratulated the new mother and Naima tucked money (very dirty money) into the baby's cradle, as did most other women. We were given plates full of cookies and we drank tea. Women sectioned themselves off by sitting area, most older women sat in one room and the younger in another. There were three or four Saharan Moroccan women who sat together and there were a few women who wore more conservative veils who sat together. If I had to guess, I'd say 80% of the women had a baby with them, all were girls besides the boy who was just born. We ate the traditional plate of (can't think of the name now but I'll remember) which is very eggy noodles with a full chicken in the middle and hard boiled eggs strewn throughout. There was a certain kind of small nut, which I wasn't familiar with, included in a broth which was tasty. I tried to eat with my hands like most of the women did but I haven't yet perfected my ability to smush my food into small balls which they so easily pop in their mouths. (Have I mentioned that in Morocco people eat communally? There is a big platter in the middle and you use your right hand to eat from the section in front of you.) I ate so much food and felt like you could roll me home like Veruca Salt, the blueberry girl, in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but my section of the plate in comparison to the other women's was hardly touched. We said goodbye and good luck to the new mother and were on our way. I haven't heard about her since which makes me wonder if close friends or all friends are invited to such celebrations. 

Naima then took me to her sister, Fatema's, shop. She sells djellabas and caftans, like Abdullah... except he might just sell cloth, I'm not sure. Anyway, I was fitted for a djellaba! I am truly blessed to have my host parents. From what I understand, it is a gift from Naima and her sister. I chose a deep purple, with 3/4 length sleeves and a thick, detailed stitching at all the seams. I can't wait to have it because I am going to wear it everywhere. It's like a cape. Who doesn't want a cape? And, it will breathe easily once it gets really hot here (hard to believe its not already the "skuun bzef" time yet). More than that I'm just picturing myself wearing a floor length, purple robe with my feather slippers in Charleston. Sounds like a comfy dream.