Passport and Pack

You go girl!

All this and more. My time in Morocco has been rich with life lessons; I am forever changed. 

Being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely. There is so much to see and enjoy in this world, and sometimes that is best done by oneself. 

Whether it be walking miles to and from school daily, learning the family business, or helping in the home, kids can handle a lot. Kids are way smarter and tougher than we often give them credit for. I love how in Morocco the older kids so often are the ones teaching the younger kids how to navigate life. 

Often framing a warm smile, playful eyes, and the lovely face of a friend, a woman’s head scarf has become almost invisible to me now. When I see a Moroccan woman, I see her faith, her personality, her joy, whether she’s a hijabi or not. 

It never occurred to me how often we Americans divide youth up for this or that lesson or activity. When I first started leading classes at the youth center, I tried to have seperate classes for all ages, but the students who were eager to learn would come to all of them. Eventually it all just blended to one group of students. It became clear the division I was trying to create was not natural or necessary. Whether it be academic, athletic, or leisure, I’ve seen such a communal approach to learning and playing. I love it!  

There's a certain charm to living in a community where everyone celebrates the rain. Everyone knows: no rain, no crops. It goes beyond solidarity with farmers, it's connectivity with Mother Earth. A connection we have lost in the USA; a connection I seek to restore. 

Ramadan is a long season of fasting. And L3id is a long day. Starting from early morning, we wait many hours as the sacrificial animals are killed, skinned, gutted, cleaned, and cooked. Talk about food prep! But this is just one of the many elements of Moroccan culture that has taught me patience. It takes days if not weeks or months to get anything official done. I’ve learned to just chill and go with the flow. Though I worry my leisurely ways will quickly be cast off by the fast pace of the USA, I hope to retain at least a fraction of the patience that is required of us daily. 

Meeting Meryl Streep and the former First Lady, Michelle Obama might be some of the most crystallized, unforgettable moments of my service. Both women exuded grace and kindness beyond expectation. But knowing the young women who hold the future of Morocco in their hands is by far the greater honor. The world may never know their names, but they are undoubtedly changing their country and paving the way for girls yet to be born. I am so happy to have been a part of their lives and for them to have been a part of mine. Shining stars are all around us if only we would open our eyes. 

I will never forget the vibrant smile of this dear girl competing in gymnastics at the Special Olympics. Photos cannot capture just how much she brightened the room. Life, it seems, gets ever more complicated as time marches on, and joy becomes more rare with age. But this girl had the secret. Live simply, live joyfully.  

Whether it be produce or meat, I love being connected to this part of life. Daily I see sheep and goats grazing in the fields and men and women harvesting whatever is in season. I know the meat I eat had a good life and was slaughtered in a decent way. I know the vegetables I buy were harvested locally and the money is going to support a family. Truth be told, I am most concerned about how to conjure this an American context, but this lesson feels so deep that I won’t be quick to give it up. 

Get sticky. Get dirty. It’ll always wash off. Forks are overrated anyways. 

Before Morocco I never thought that the way in which one pours tea could be anything more than efficient and practical. But here, something I once considered ordinary is artful and entertaining. Whether it’s for a customer, a lunch guest, or a wedding party, a good host never forgoes an opportunity to dazzle her/his company with the art of the pour. 

How many hours have I passed in Morocco with nothing having been done? So many it would make a deadbeat blush. I’ve spent countless hours sitting on a stool in someone’s kitchen. Countless hours playing peek-a-boo with my little host sister. Countless hours watching Turkish Soap Operas with friends. Though right now, as my mind craves projects to reflect on in hopes of calming my anxiety that I’ve done too little, all the hours of being don’t feel like much. But I know that these will be the moments that I will miss, that my friends will miss. It was in these moments that friendships formed. In these moments that I found peace within myself and connection with those around me.