Mysterious brown powder

     When I talk about Morocco being a little boring at times, I never mean that it has managed to lose its unexpectedness.  Of course, the little red taxis zipping around town are now a normality, and referring to yogurt as Danoon (instead of the brandname Dannon) is nothing new.

     But you can't always keep your guard up against crazy things happening.  Yesterday I was sitting on the couch, half-spaced-out after eating two dinners (yeah, that happens sometimes).  We were at the sister's house, there was soccer on TV, and I was almost ready to fall asleep.

     In usual fashion, somewhat large and older Moroccan women in the extended family shouted out a conversation around the table in the living room, and I was in the middle of the ruckus, sitting rather obliviously to what they were talking about.  There is never an "inside voice."  They are either shouting at each other, or almost completely quiet.  I think the volume is part of the accent.

     Anyway, the conversation got quiet and I got the feeling someone was looking at me.  I glanced to my left and not only is there a large Moroccan woman, wrapped from almost head to toe in a light shade of blue cloth, glaring at me, but she is also holding a lightly gripped fist out to me, almost as if she wants to do the Obama fist bump. 

     Surprised as I was to see this, I still managed to glance down at her hand to see why she was holding it out.  I had trouble seeing what it was she wanted to show me on her hand--at first it looked like a small brown moth or a leaf. 

     But then as I got a closer look, I saw it was a very tiny pile of brown powder, almost like the chocolate powder used to make chocolate milk.  And then she slightly flicked her hand up as if I should smell it, so I could figure out what it was.

     Now this is where, in normal human interaction, I would usually say something.  Maybe a "what the hell are you doing?" or even a simple, "what is that?" would suffice.  But no.  Because no matter how prepared you are for a new culture, why would you expect to be put into this situation?  Every word you've learned in class flees you.

     And now not only are you in this awkward position, but you can't say anything about it.  So what do you do?  Well, there's really only one thing to do.  I leaned over and smelled the powder.

     I couldn't smell anything.  But I'd bought myself a couple seconds, and managed to cobble together enough Arabic words to ask what it was.  Then these women just giggled at me, looked at each other, and then the one to my left lifted her hand to her nose, and snorted half of this powder into each nostril.

     And if I'd thought I was at a loss for words before, then I really had nothing.  How do you deal with something like this?  Did this woman just snort chocolate cocaine?  Did I just honestly watch a 60-year-old woman do a line right there in the living room?  Moreover, did she just proposition me to do the same?  And, of course, they look at you to see your reaction afterward.  If I couldn't tell them in Arabic I thought they were crazy, I'm not sure I was able to keep the look off my face.