Letter to Dad

August 31, 1995 village

Dear Dad,

I got the long awaited letter today and I wonder how it would have been had I not called you Saturday. I’m glad I didn’t have to find out that way because I believe it would have been harder to digest. I told S about it yesterday and word seems to have spread fast. The sheik, who I’m sitting with right now, just asked about you. I’m glad I’m in this village. It feels very much like home these days, and very much like family.

I haven’t slept in my house since I’ve been back from the states. It’s too hot, and the scorpions! Oh God! I found one yesterday under my pillow in my house when I went home midday to take a nap. I layed down on the pillow and thought hmmm, I should probably check things out since it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve been home. It was four inches long and yellow.

It’s just me and the sheik. He just bent over and asked, “letter?” He’s now gone to see why a kid’s crying. Just came back in. I was thinking earlier how nice it is to see him play with his little kid even though he’s so much older. He’s got to be in his seventies. He really does take the time to give him attention, as do most people here. They seem to really love kids. Of course, here, there’s no such thing as child abuse. They’ll slap a kid in a second.

I’m on the roof with pretty stars tonight. It’s a half moon. The cornfields are nearing six feet tall and date harvest is close. I’d say we’re about a fourth of the way through now. In another month the flies will be unmanageable.

There was a Newsweek article I read today about twins born to a woman through in-vitro fertilization, but the clinic did a mix-up and one baby was black. I explained this somehow to R today and she understood. I guess my language is coming along.

The sheik just said hello and thank you. For what I don’t know. The clothes, maybe? I had three French guys stay at the sheik's Tuesday night. I know one of them from Agadir. He’s a friend with the PCVs there. Of course, once he came to the village, he became married to my girlfriend and the two friends were his brothers and they were married too. They had lots of kids and no interest in me. I’m still having to explain it, lying through my teeth. By dinner the sheik told them I was like one of his kids, pointing off to his son J. The Kayid was there too and said, low and behold, I had become Tashlheit. It was a great experience for the guys and a nice trial run to see if my village can handle male visitors. They can.

The sheik is going through the Newsweek, looking at pictures, occasionally testing the extent of my Tashlheit, demanding answers and explanations. The Oklahoma incident. China.

The doctor just walked in smoking the butt of a cigarette. He then threw it off the roof, sat down, and lit another. He says hello to you. He says if you want to be well, really want to be well, then you will do it yourself or something like that. Bad translation, sorry. The sheik just asked the doctor what was wrong with you because I told the sheik to ask S since I couldn’t explain it. The doctor started and then turned to me a little unsure. I said it was no problem. He could just ask S. He said, no. He won’t understand pancreas. Animals do not have a pancreas.

Tonight, and until this is all over, we’ll be thinking about you over here. You’ve been blessed a million times and I’m learning all the God phrases for sick people. It’s worth something.

I didn’t call you Monday. I don’t have an excuse. I’m scared, I guess. I think I’m going to Tata Monday and will call you then.

S just walked in, picked up the Newsweek, and threw it at me saying, “I don’t know English! I don’t want to know English. Tashlheit, French, and Arabic. That’s it.”

The doctor’s also drunk I now realize. In fact, I think S might be a little drunk too. He went off about how women are difficult. We should only be machines that pop out children. We shouldn’t think we’re equal because we’re always below men. Men are always above women. It’s nature...and see--men have the muscles. I stopped him fast, said, “and you have them?” He’s a stick. I have much more meat and could throw him down in seconds.

I hope you’ve enjoyed an hour in the life of Dorian.

I love you and am thinking of you often,

Dorian