Last year we posted a preview of a project in which students interview people in their community. The idea was inspired by the amazing "Humans of New York" vignettes on Facebook, but it also grew out of a curiosity to learn how the local tradespeople persevere with very little. Over several months, university students gathered stories in Moroccan Arabic, then translated them to English and presented their interview to the class. Here is one, with more to follow:
The Kohl Seller
Salam Lala, can you give me some of the traditional kohl, please?
Yes, of course! Here it is.
Thank you. I see you around here almost every day, sometimes in the morning and sometimes in the evening, holding your bag on your shoulders and roaming the neighborhoods.
Yes, my child, I wake up every day and do the housework and cook for my grand daughter, then go out to work. For thirty-eight years now, I've been selling kohl and some crushed herbs to thicken the hair, which I make myself. The ladies who buy those herbs from me mix them with olive oil or henna. It is not easy to make kohl. It is hard and dirty work, but I need to do it even though I am more than seventy years old, and can't see without my glasses. The reason I do it is to support my grand daughter. Her mother died and left her with me because the father is a jerk who doesn't care about her existence. I'm poor and need to work every day to pay for her schooling and provide her with what she needs. In the evening, I may return to my home with some food and clothes given to me by a kind lady who sees my sad situation.
The Kohl Seller
Salam Lala, can you give me some of the traditional kohl, please?
Yes, of course! Here it is.
Thank you. I see you around here almost every day, sometimes in the morning and sometimes in the evening, holding your bag on your shoulders and roaming the neighborhoods.
Yes, my child, I wake up every day and do the housework and cook for my grand daughter, then go out to work. For thirty-eight years now, I've been selling kohl and some crushed herbs to thicken the hair, which I make myself. The ladies who buy those herbs from me mix them with olive oil or henna. It is not easy to make kohl. It is hard and dirty work, but I need to do it even though I am more than seventy years old, and can't see without my glasses. The reason I do it is to support my grand daughter. Her mother died and left her with me because the father is a jerk who doesn't care about her existence. I'm poor and need to work every day to pay for her schooling and provide her with what she needs. In the evening, I may return to my home with some food and clothes given to me by a kind lady who sees my sad situation.
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