Knowing When to Accept

I was studying French in graduate school when I decided to incorporate travel into my coursework. Having done a summer in France, I had a hankering for something decidedly non-Western, particularly Middle Eastern, yet linguistically Francophone. Morocco came naturally to mind.
I landed in Casablanca at about midnight, just after some other like-minded students, and met the guys who would drive us to the university in the northern Atlas Mountains. I had but six months in the country and knew I’d be packing as much running around and studying as I could. I didn’t know, and was ultimately pleasantly surprised at, just how much turned out to be possible.
Though I have Arab roots and speak the language, little prepared me for the nuances of the customs, from the greetings, to the table manners, to the differing conceptions of the ‘future’. I met my roommate and promptly mistook his polite and culturally appropriate invitation to hang out with his friends at one of their rooms as a serious proposition. I perceived his ever-so-slight surprise upon my agreement, yet went along. We arrived at the guy’s room, where I was introduced. When I noticed the change in plans that they improvised, I understood that they hadn’t expected a new arrival. I stayed briefly, said nice-to-have-met-you, and excused myself, noting that much may be offered only as politeness (my roommate’s glazed-over eyes and calm mood when I saw him later gave a clue as to the nature of their friendly activity!). Such overtly deliberate friendliness was refreshing and eventually became second nature. I found myself, as is the norm, shaking hands with guys and kissing on the cheek girls I came across in most social settings.
Soon afterward was the Islamic holiday of Eid, one in which, traditionally, a small animal, usually a sheep, is sacrificed by financially able families, with some of the meat going to feed the poor (of which there are unfortunately many in Morocco). A few other visiting students and I were invited to a local student’s family’s house for the holiday. Avid meat eaters, the exchange students and I were looking forward to a weekend of fresh lamb. We conveniently ‘forgot’ just how fresh the lamb would actually be, seeing as it would be ‘sacrificed’ on the spot that morning.
On the day of Eid, we were roused from sleep by the crowds streaming out of the local mosque. We followed the chatter in the house to its source, up to the flat roof where the young creature awaited its fate. No sooner had we arrived than the moment of truth arrived. For a couple of visitors, their presence ensured that they wouldn’t partake in the day’s cuisine. Nonetheless, the invitation to dine, however polite, was one that we all understood as one not to be lightly declined. From then on, they somehow became easier to discern.