L’Hmmam

Moulay Yacoub is known for its mineral waters—it’s a tourist town, primarily for Moroccans, although I have seen the occasional German or Italian family visiting. There are three Hmmams (bathhouses) in town frequented in varying degree by both locals and tourists. The Hmmam is part of my weekly routine. The first week sans shower was difficult, but now, I can’t believe I showered nearly everyday in the States.

The fancy Hmmam is for the wealthy Moroccan and European tourists. It’s really a spa—there are several pools, massages and facials are available, and there are other bizarre contraptions, like one that sprays water up your nasal canal, to help you feel extra clean. To simply visit the pool was 100 dH, which is not affordable on the Peace Corps budget. (N.B. The approximate conversion is 8 dH = $1.)  I never went inside, but I enjoyed walking outside near the adjacent café. This small corner of town was kept polished to accommodate the fine tastes of its customer base. There was even a trashcan, a rare sight in Moulay Yacoub. But I liked the place because there was a row of lilacs planted along the walkway. I stumbled upon them in bloom one afternoon and was immediately transported back to Rochester, NY. (My Rochester home was right next to Highland Park, which hosts a lilac festival every spring.)

The private Hmmam has a number of small rooms with individual tubs where one can bathe quietly. I went once, but it was a two-hour wait; I decided I wasn’t that dirty. It felt like the showers at a campground—everyone sat on benches, hovering outside the rooms, with their shampoo, soap, and towel in hand. It would have cost me 20 dH for a two-hour wait and a 30-minute private scrub down.

Finally, there’s the public Hmmam. The experience is difficult to describe, but it’s an excursion I look forward to: girls’ night out for only 10 dH each to stay as long as we like. Every Thursday, we pack up our bucket with our shower essentials, which include a plastic mat (to sit on), special soap and rough washcloths that literally scrub off layers of skin, and mini buckets for rinsing. And because you bathe in underwear, it’s very important to bring a dry pair for the walk home. A normal visit for us lasts a couple hours. I did go once with my host family and spent nearly four hours there—I didn’t get home until after midnight, at which point I finally ate dinner. Long stays are not unusual.

And Moulay Yacoub is actually not your typical Hmmam—we have a pool. (I have yet to visit a normal Hmmam, but my understanding is that it’s much like sauna with taps for hot and cold water.) The pool is cleaned once a week when the Hmmam is closed on Wednesday, hence why we always go Thursday after class. Even after such a short time, you can begin to feel the hair and dead skin collecting in the water. The water smells of sulfur and stings when it got in your eyes. And it’s loud, hectic. The room echoes with shouts and songs, the banging of buckets, splashing, and the smack of wet bodies.

There’s only one tap for the fresh, scalding hot spring water, although it’s possible to scoop water directly from the pool. (You bucket bathe beside the pool or on nearby benches because the springs cannot be contaminated by soap.) On busy afternoons, the fight for fresh water is incredible—women swarm the spout, shoving and elbowing, screaming at each other. I would have to be very aggressive and be able to shout in Darija if I wanted to reach the spigot. Instead, following the example of a woman next to me, I thrust my small, rinsing ladle through the cluster of flailing arms to reach the jet of water, and this way, I was able to fill my big bucket one scoop at a time.

Despite the sometimes fierce competition for water, women also help each other. They assist each other in and out of the water. They lift and pass along buckets of water. They look out for each other’s children. A woman once deposited her baby in my lap for about thirty minutes while she gathered the water she needed to bathe herself and the child. We didn’t even have a conversation beforehand. They float each other around the pool—it’s an amazing feeling. Floating alone takes little effort, so this was pure ease: grazing the surface, coasting on someone else’s hands, and with your ears submerged, you can block out the noise; it’s so peaceful. And they scrub each other’s backs. I was sitting alone (my friend had gone for more water), soaping up my back, when a Moroccan woman approached me, took the soap and my scrubber and proceeded to scrub me down without any introduction.

Perhaps I haven’t said much to recommend the experience, but after a long day of learning and week without bathing, the Hmmam is relaxing. I can sit without forcing my brain to work or absorb new language. And in a country where I’m particularly conscious of the appropriateness of my dress, I am at ease here for a couple hours because there is no shame and no judgment among all these naked women.

Drafted April 13, 2012