Encore des sourds de Casa

So yesterday I took a long walk just to do something outside of the house. I was walking along the river, ignoring all the men who called out to me, when I saw a pair of guys signing to each other. I smiled to myself, being sure to not make eye contact, as usual, but a minute later I had a tap on my shoulder and there was the deaf pair. They signed in ASL and LSF mostly but wrote in German, so I was really thankful that I have actually studied a small bit of ASL and German. They were really adamant about having coffee with me. They're from Casablanca but not leaving for ten days, so I said that this coming weekend we could go to a café and I will bring my friend Amanda, both for company and her greater ASL skills.

Mother is being less weird about the whole baby-buying ordeal. I've noticed that she goes to bed later than midnight most nights, i.e. the last one to sleep, and that she is always the first one up usually around 7am. I sure wish that I could function on such little sleep, but I am best at nine hours' worth.

Culture class this morning was actually quite good. We had a woman, a child psychiatrist/painter, come to speak to us. Her name is Noufissa Benjelloun, and she actually had an exhibit in Birmingham, Alabama, in the 90's because her sister married an Alabamian and Noufissa moved there for a few years to help her adjust. She is a modern painter but uses brilliant colors. I actually liked her pieces. I believe googling her name will show up with a few of her works. She likes to 'write poems in her paintings.' Sometimes she literally paints the words of a poem and then puts in a few invoking images. Others it's like a series of images in the one painting describing an event or an emotion. Prof Mekouar wouldn't let the poor lady talk, and she was absolutely adorable. She is of the generation that was wholly educated in French, so even though she was born and raised in Fez, she speaks barely as much Arabic as I do.

Last night on the telly there were some interviews being done at the women's center in Fez that I visited. I mentioned to the family that I had been there, and they got very curious indeed. Before I suppose they had just passed it off but this time around they were really interested. I think Mother is really frustrated with her newest boss (her first female boss) and is torn in the women's rights conflict gripping Moroccan society.

I got another letter via snail mail today (that makes three letters, nine cards, and two parcels so far). Mail delivery only happens once or twice a week, and everybody is always anxious to see how many items are for me. Keep up the great work, y'all! I cannot tell you how much it means to me. It's been very difficult to not be able to talk to y'all. I know that calling is expensive and letters are slow, but it's all I've got.

Cell phone: 011+212+652396256
Mail: PO Box 6291
Rabat Instituts
Rabat - MOROCCO 10101

... because people keep asking for it.