Visiting a hammam in Marrakech is a little like going back in time to being a child again. Getting led by my hand, bathed, scrubbed and water poured over me, I kept being transported back to childhood - and any vestige of modesty was left firmly tethered at the door!
Even though I had some understanding of what to expect, it was difficult getting fully undressed under the watchful, yet seen-it-all-before gaze of the attendant in charge. Being handed a teeny tiny g-string weirdly gave me a modicum of dignity. Strangely enough, not being able to speak French or Arabic also gave me a veneer of anonymity.
By the time I joined a fellow hammam goer in the sauna I was trying to get my head around the unusual feeling of freedom and total abandon - gradually losing that feel of shyness or even shame that comes only with adulthood. She and I glanced at each other, yes I gave her a quick once-over (I'm not going to lie!) but it was more an acknowledgement of being in the same predicament. Lying in that small circular room with coloured glass in the dome shaped ceiling sending in rays of rainbow sunlight drawing pretty patterns on the floor, enveloped by steam I started to relax and enjoy this liberating new experience.
Half an hour of pore-opening sauna was followed by the much anticipated bathing and scrubbing. Led to a room of concrete slabs covered with rubber (nonslip!) mats you're first washed down with water poured over you from a ladle and washed thoroughly with black soap (an interesting slimey, almost soft soap local to Morocco, rich in minerals and meant to detoxify). Next came the exfoliating where your whole body is scrubbed firmly and thoroughly with a rough mitt of some sort. Dry dead old skin cells? All gone!! 😳
A quick rinse and then led by the hand to the massage tables (covered in white tarps! 😳 ) The reason for this soon became clear as my masseur drizzled argan oil and water all over it and when I lay down proceeded to drizzle oil all over my back. This was followed by one of the most relaxing massages I've had in my life!
However this too passed far too soon and I was led once more to the bathing room, gently pushed on to a stool (probably a good thing cos I was quite jelly-like by this time!). As I was soaped and washed and became a child again with memories of my grandmothers and aunties and mother 'bathing' me I realised how by leaving behind all self inflicted issues with my own body and judgement of other women's, putting aside any feelings of shame or embarrassment, kicking down those walls of what's 'normal' as portrayed by the media or those who seek to typecast women, I had been able to enjoy this wonderful experience and be just a woman amongst other women. No judgement, just a few giggles with the language confusion.
It is a shame how much of women's business has been forgotten or cloaked in what we call 'civilised' norms especially in western societies (tho this gdoes exist in 'upper class' eastern communities who've embraced 'modernity' at the expense of wonderfully enriching, culture specific female traditions). In many countries women still understand the power there is of gathering together, to just BE. To give to each other, to share wisdom and be there for each other, without partiality and judgement.
And just for 90 short minutes I was so glad to be reminded of this.
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