On people getting into each other's business

Warning: the following blog post contains broad generalizations about large groups of people. If you find this offensive, might I suggest that when you read the word "Moroccans," you replace it with something like "a noticeable number of Moroccans with whom the author of this blog post has interacted."

When T and I went to Spain in January, it took us several days to warm up to the country and its people. In fact, it wasn't until our second to last night in Spain (our last night staying in Ronda) – when three gregarious and drunk locals bought us beer at a popular tapas bar – that we started thinking this was a country we might want to visit again.

It wasn't until we were back in Morocco two or three days later that I realized why we had found Spanish people to be so unfriendly. Unlike Moroccans, they left us alone.

You see, Moroccans are always getting into your business. While T and I were in Spain, particularly in Sevilla, we spent large chunks of time examining maps, trying to figure out where we were and how to get where we wanted to be. No one ever stopped to ask if we needed help. I took this as a sign of unfriendliness because I had gotten used to the Moroccan tendency to immediately offer help. Granted, sometimes (especially in tourist cities like Fez), this offer comes with an expectation of some financial reward. But after living in Morocco for many months, I have come to understand that this immediate "stepping in" to help is cultural and comes from a place of generosity.

The first few times that I went to the marché, I was confused by the help I was getting from people who didn't seem to be working at the marché stalls. random customers would try to guess what it was I was asking for. If they happened to speak English, they would ask me in English what I wanted and would translate to the vendor.

One sunny day when I was sitting outside the bakery drinking a coffee, a man asked me if I spoke French or Arabic. I said no and told him that I spoke English. After I told him my language of choice, he proceeded to advise me in broken English that I should get out of the sun because it is not good for one's health to sit in the sun too long. My fear that he might be trying to find out the best language with which to hit on me or sell me something was totally unfounded.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that T and I learned how to put more minutes on our cell phone because the other time that we tried to do it, a group of university students who were in the same superette quickly grabbed our phone from us and put the minutes on it for us.

In Meknes one day, when my friend JW accidentally ran his car into a curb, a nearby pedestrian immediately turned and started directing him so that he could get the car away from the curb. I can't prove that this would not happen in Spain or in the U.S., but I think one could certainly count on it happening in Morocco.

When I went with JW to the Maroc Telecom office to buy a USB modem, another customer who saw us looking at the options proceeded to advise me about what I should get. She went so far as to call a friend regarding a different company which she thought would be a better choice for me. While a few months ago this would have been a little confusing to me, this time I just smiled.

This is the Moroccan way. And I love it.