This past week, we had one week fall break with no school. Hassan and I left Casablanca on Saturday night toward Agadir and on to his mother's village for a couple of days. The house in which his mother lives has a courtyard of sorts in the center. A square area mostly open to the sky. At the center of that square area is a square planter of about 1 yard square, built into the concrete floor. In that square planter is a small orange tree. Currently there is a small crop of ripening oranges on the tree. Varying sizes and shades of green. Now the fun part -- everyone in the family has been allocated a specific orange on the tree. Everybody knows whose is whose and all are watching them ripen in hopes that his/hers will be the sweetest. Rumor has it that each year's small harvest is indeed sweet. Part of the fun of it is the gamble involved. I've never before considered the natural selection of fruit, but Hassan's orange broke open and fell off the tree early in the game.
I'm sure I'll be forced to share now.
This is a photo taken the last time we were in the village, August, just before we moved to Casablanca.
L to R: Family Orange Tree, Hassan's sister Keltoum, niece Fatima, me, sister Aicha.
5 comments:
awww. what a beautiful tradition!
Great story!
knock knock.
who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad you're part of the family?
:)
loved the story.
most importantly, have you named your orange?
well, for now,
Go SHANNON ORANGE!
Man, Jina used my favorite knock knock joke. now if only she could tell me the world's best chicken joke. then I would have to name an orange chicken recipe after her. hey, just in time for thanksgiving!
Never named the orange, but as of the village visit just before Christmas... mine is one of only two left. Good odds.
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