Fridays are for couscous

The knocking began around 6:10 pm today. I was busy trying to get my class's wiki in order, and since I wasn't expecting anyone, decided not to answer the door. When the second round of knocking began 15 minutes later, I knew it wasn't just someone trying to sell me something.

My concierge was there, motioning me to lock my door and follow her upstairs. She handed me a lovely plate of couscous and admonished me for not answering the door the first time. The plate had cooled off in the interim.

Today is Friday, the day of the week most sacred to Muslims -- Friday prayers at noon time are similar to the Sunday services that I knew growing up Catholic. Friday is also the traditional day to eat and share couscous. I don't have the heart to tell her that I'm vegetarian and that this otherwise very tempting meal is going to be wasted on me because of the few slivers of meat that were added to flavor the vegetables.

At least I know that she likes chocolate. Guess I'll be out buying chocolate tomorrow and furtively ditching the couscous in the dumpster on the next block over. At least a few of Agdal's many feline residents might be able to make a meal of it.

My concierge's cookies

With Ramadan behind us for another year, my concierge came to give me a plate of cookies in celebration. She and her husband keep the building clean, take out tenants' trash, help (me) get 30-lb Butagaz bottles up to the 4th floor without an elevator, and are all-around good people.

Ma concierge (the wife of the duo) doesn't speak much French, but she just came to the door with this festive plate of cookies and explained that she has all kinds of relatives in the United States. She and her husband feel responsible for me, I'm quite sure, because they like everyone else think I'm in my early 20s. Furthermore, my concierge saw me one day with a Kleenex and thought I was crying. It's just very dusty here; but she won't believe that I'm not sad and lonely. In fact, neither she nor her husband will take a tip from me for helping with the Butagaz tanks.

This generous and amiable couple, however, lives in a one-room closet on the top floor of the building and earns a paltry 200 Dh from each of 8 apartments as their monthly income (1600 Dh = $200). They have no bed and no furniture to speak of. My concierge is very old, and she's completely folded in half at the waist with osteoporosis. She spends most of her time balanced between her two feet and two hands, and simply can't stand upright for long periods of time. Once I offered to help her up the stairs, but I couldn't bend down far enough to be of use. And she, she couldn't be unfolded for long enough to walk up the two remaining flights.

I'm positively at a loss as to how to begin thanking them. Their selfless generosity is really commendable, and is truly an inspiration.