Hshuma = Shame

Fancy that, a cognate. Hshuma is a big deal here. But, the concept of shame is not the same as in the United States. In the United States, one can be ashamed of their behavior and felt repentant without being seen. Here, shame is a public event. The idea appears to be, do what you want so long as you don’t caught, for if you get caught, you will be publicly called out… and who wants that?

A thing (situation) or activity can be hshuma; for example, a person can wear something that is hshuma or do something hshuma (which can vary on perspective), for instance if a male stranger hits on girl (non-Moroccan?) she may have no reservations about telling him 'hshuma!'

I haven’t been hshuma-ed much. There are only two real instances that I can recall. About two months ago my host mother hshuma-ed (which means she told me ‘hshuma 3lik’ or shame unto you (not as serious as it sounds)) because she had come to my house one weekend at 10.30 AM and I did not answer the door, or make it known that I was home. The expressed wrongful activity was not opening the door while actually being home.

Why didn’t I answer the door? Well, it was the weekend and I didn’t want to deal with anyone before noon. And I get little girls who come over to my house all the time, who don’t want anything, and they sit for hours. Sometimes without even saying much to one another, let alone me. It makes me uncomfortable because in general I don't have food to offer them (I have refused to buy a refrigerator) and I don't have a television to plop them in front of (tv watching is a big part of Moroccan life, it's like the soundtrack to the day). I did not want to be bothered with the trouble that morning.

Want to know the best part about how the girls announce their presence at my house? They knock. F o r e v e r. If I don't answer, they will knock and call my name for upwards of 30 minutes. My house isn't that big. What do they expect me to do if I open at minute 28.5? That just seems awkward to me.

As for this situation, to my credit, I didn’t know it was my host mom. I would have gotten up for her. But I thought it was one of the girls so I stayed in bed. When she informed me, I apologized and suggested that she call. But she never seems to have phone credit. And that is terribly unfortunate. Moroccan doors don’t have peepholes.

The second time I was hshuma-ed was tonight. I went to the gendarmerie (police station) to break fast tonight and hung out for a couple of hours. Some of the guys stared and they smiled, some said it was 'chic-y', some made motions like it was 'large' and all that was fine except--one of the senior ranking officials commented on my hair cut (I got it cut this past weekend by another volunteer) and he told me that women should have long hair and then he hshuma-ed me!

Backing up. This weekend I had a regional meeting with some other volunteers in a small town about three hours away. One of the volunteers from a previous year arrived in Morocco with fairly long hair she wore first in cornrows, then an afro, then extensions (individual braids) and then… she cut it all off. Shaved it to a guy’s length. So, I had to ask. “Hey, what were your experiences with cutting off your hair?” She was super frank and was like sometimes it’s trying because if she’s not dressed up particularly like a girl, or if she’s wearing a cap, she gets mistaken for a man, and that doesn’t sound like fun. She’s told her people have told her straight out it’s ugly. I imagine it might be hard to differentiate 'it' from 'oneself'--but she does have a really attractive face.

One ‘cute’ story was the day she first got it cut and returned to her neighborhood a little boy she knew came up to her and asked excitedly where her hair went, she explained she had cut it, he said it was ugly… then ran away! But… then, he came back to her and told her it was pretty. And she was touched that he cared enough about her feelings to come back and apologize and well, lie, to her to spare her feelings. I didn't think the story was cute; I thought it was awful he'd say such a thing, but her perspective was appreciated and I figured it might do me well to try on her glasses when dealing with such situations.

She warned me that short hair is not considered beautiful on women in Moroccan culture. I pondered, and considered that might not be a bad thing. She told me that somewhere in the Koran it says women’s hair shouldn’t be shorter than… than I don’t remember, but probably shorter than mine was when I arrived, haha. The point was, to cut mine even shorter was to go against the prescribed beauty norms.

But I didn’t expect to be shamed for it.

I haven’t been called ugly yet (to my face/knowledge). But I haven’t gone anywhere yet. We’ll see how Marrakech goes. This Sunday I am spending 3-4 days with a group of NU Hillel kids who are here to do some service work! They are also bringing me dental hygiene supplies and French literacy materials. I am giving them a little cultural lesson on Morocco. I’m really looking forward to their visit. It’s like a little bit of home.

Perhaps not my best haircut, but I wouldn't call it shameful

A note on my general comfort level—

This evening one of the police came in after the main rush and as walked behind me he gently touched the top of my hair. And what did I do? My immediate, natural response was to smile. And he smiled too. That was kind of a big deal. Generally hair touching requires some sort of expressed consent beforehand, but this just seemed… natural. I do like my town.