Arriving in a new country and integrating into the community is not an easy task. I first arrived in Morocco, in the capital Rabat, in September. I spent about a month there, studying the Moroccan dialect of Arabic, Darija, and learning about the Moroccan education system. I would have been completely lost without my host family, and especially my host sister.
I couldn’t speak much of the language at first, but I will never forget when we all sat down for dinner the first night on their couch; my host dad looked me in the eye and said, “I’m your Moroccan father, she is your Moroccan mother, here are your Moroccan sisters, and your Moroccan brother.” They took me in as one of their own. We ate dinner around their couch every night. Morocco has a community based culture of sharing, and this was my first introduction. The seven of us would eat off the same big plate, sometimes with silverware, sometimes with our hands. We would also pass around one glass of water or soda with the meal. Both my host parents worked, my host siblings went to school, and I went to orientation every day, so dinner was when we would all come together.
Of my three host sisters, two were in middle school and high school, and one was my age, and worked at the school I attended for orientation. The sister my age, Chaimae, showed me her favorite spots in Rabat.
