During my first nights in DC for the NSLI-Y Arabic program, I quietly envisioned what I thought would be the best moment of the trip: browsing the souks, attending classes, and experiencing full independence for the first time. What I hadn’t initially anticipated was the deep connections I would be able to form with my host family. More specifically, the quiet moments at home where deep in the night we would share stories over a cup of steaming mint tea. Yet, these evenings quickly became some of the most significant and special moments of my Arabic journey.

First Nights, First Adjustments

The NSLI-Y program is a government scholarship to study a critical language abroad during the Summer (or academic year). This past June/July, I had the opportunity to study Arabic in Marrakech, Morocco for 6 weeks. During the first few nights, I sat at the dinner table with my host family, excitement and nervousness swirling in my stomach. The table was filled with huge baskets of bread and a clay pot of tagine. The spices from the food were palpable, I could feel each sniff consuming the fragrant meal. My 4 host siblings would converse rapidly in Darija (Moroccan dialect of Arabic), occasionally quizzing me on the words they taught me earlier in the day. I would awkwardly laugh and stumble through a response in my broken French. At that point I couldn’t even read the Arabic alphabet, let alone converse fully with native speakers.

In the United States, I was accustomed to eating alone, then quickly returning to my room once I was finished. The meals I experienced in Morocco were a far cry from this. These moments often stretched long into the night, the bustle of interaction fueling even more conversation. Eventually, when we cleared the plates and washed the dishes in the kitchen, I assumed the night was over. Yet a few minutes later, my host mother would reappear with a huge silver teapot, holding it with a cloth over the handle. She’d also bring a tray of glass cups and hardened sugar.

My first sip of Moroccan mint tea was unforgettable. I put a huge cube of sugar into my cup and tasted sweetness mixed with mint. Yet, the liquid was also hot enough to burn my tongue. Everyone encouraged me to drink more, pouring glass after glass while raising the pot high above our heads in a perfect stream. I soon learned that this technique was essential to create the tiny bubbles that rise to the top of the tea. Drinking tea soon evolved into a ritual of bonding, a way of extending conversation long into the night.

Thoughtfulness of Tea Time

Those late-night tea sessions became a classroom outside the Center for Language and Culture (CLC), the school where I’d formally learn Arabic throughout the day. During the nights, I would struggle with formal verb conjugations and vocabulary. However, by night, I would learn the ebb and flow of conversation with my family. My host siblings would point to foods around the table, asking me to name them in Arabic and Darija. Each correct answer was followed by cheers and laughter. 

At the beginning, I felt like an outsider, listening more than speaking to the conversations at the dinner table. Yet, gradually, slowly, and steadily my role in the family shifted. Soon, I was the one initiating conversations and though I couldn’t always articulate exactly what I was intending to convey, my host family continued to encourage me. When I was at the tea table I could try and try again, comfortable and at home in the moment.

Thus, it was during these moments of comfort, clarity, and cups of tea where I came to realize that language learning isn’t simply about memorization, but rather the connection you make with the people around you. Formal lessons may have taught me grammar, but midnight mint tea taught me belonging.

Culture in a Cup

Drinking mint tea with my host family was also an opportunity to fully live in Moroccan culture. Hospitality, I learned, wasn’t simply a formality, but rather ingrained in the culture and way of life. My tea glass was never left empty for long with each refill being an invitation to continue conversing and enjoying the snacks and cakes.

Initially, I’d missed the doom scrolling sessions I’d have at home, far from my family and enjoying my own company. However, as my time in Morocco progressed, I’d grown to savor the slow and cheerful Moroccan nights. Each conversation would pause and start up again, stretching far past midnight.

Tea Time Belonging

Not every moment of the program was as easy and fun filled as tea time. I would often long for my family in the United States. These moments of homesickness sucked me into a cycle of prolonged reminiscence, and culture shock would often exacerbate these emotions. Yet these midnight tea sessions anchored me to Morocco. They were a reminder that even if I felt isolated and an outsider during the day, I had another true family waiting for me at night.

Once the program came to a close, I’d grown fully accustomed to the tea table madness. I wasn’t simply a guest at the table anymore, instead I was pouring tea high above my head for my family. Now, I wasn’t an outsider looking into Moroccan culture, but rather engaging and living directly within it.

Looking Back

Now that I’m back home, when I look back at my time in Morocco, I don’t long for the grand moments where I hiked the Atlas Mountains, bargained in the Souks, or toured beautiful ancient monuments. What I missed the most was the moments with my host family where we’d laugh for hours over a glass of mint tea at midnight.

This custom, while simple at first glance, showed me the patience, love, and beauty in Moroccan culture. Integration doesn’t occur through some kind of grand entrance, but rather, in the smaller traditions: the nightly conversations and hundreds of empty glasses of tea.

Mint tea at midnight wasn’t simply a cultural custom. It was the moment that truly connected me to my host family, to Morocco, and opened my eyes to what the NSLI-Y program offered.