I think my stomach has adjusted to the most part to Moroccan lifestyle. In preparation for the festival I helped Nancy* clean the chickens, about a dozen of them. There was a large bucket of plucket chickens which she dragged into the living room so that she and Francis could watch TV while they cleaned and gutted the chickens. She grabbed a chicken from the bucket and put it directly on the table which we eat on, it did have the plastic table covering on it, but it had many holes. Nancy and Francis scraped the skin of the chicken with their usual dull knives, I held on to the chicken as Nancy did this and as she pulled the heart, stomach, liver, and other unpleasant parts out of the chicken. It was a really good learning experience. It think all Americans should have a hands on experience with the meat that they eat. I'll probably be in this situation when I'm on my own here in Morocco as well. That being said, I was a little worried when I was sprayed in the face multiple times with chicken juice, as Nancy scraped the chicken. Francis* caught the expression on my face and started laughing, Nancy joined in. Nancy joked that Chicken juice is a nice perfume worth 50 Dirhams per bottle. I laughed. I thought to myself, 'if I get sick from this it will be a lesson WELL learned.'
I took a bath as they finished cleaning the chickens and cleaned up, so I wasn't sure how they cleaned the table. This is what was going through my mind as my host mother set the tajeen on the table. My host mother divided up the bread and as she was about to set the piece of bread on the table I quick placed my hands under the bread so as to save it from the possibly salmonella infested table. Then I realized I don't know how they washed their hands, did they use soap? I didn't know. I gave up. There was no use in worrying about it. If I was going to get sick then I was going to get sick. The good news is that I didn't get sick.
*Names have been changed.
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