Bslama, Au-revoir, Goodbye

This is it! My last post in Meknes. In some ways, it feels like I’ve been here for so long, but then in the next moment it feels so brief. I think a month was the perfect length, though. I have had the time to fall in love with Morocco, but I’m ready to be back home too.

I didn’t expect today to be as difficult as I thought it would be. I went to Le Nid one more time for a final goodbye to all the little babies. Incidentally, we ended up helping to take a group of babies to another clinic for their shots. I had absolutely no idea what we were doing either; they just handed us each a baby and told us to follow, then we piled in a van and headed toward town. (And in case you didn’t guess – no car seats, just babies in laps.) It wasn’t until we were sitting in the waiting room and heard the first baby wail that I realized what was going on. But, I got it together and held that little guy while they poked him. I have to say, I now have a true appreciation for mothers, because I do not know how you people sit and watch that torture multiple times. It made my heart hurt.

Then I drove the nail in a little deeper when I said goodbye to my little angel. He was so happy to see me, I almost couldn’t cry. Then I put him down in his crib with his new blanket, so he pouted his lip out just a little for having been put down. And the dam burst. It’s hard to believe how attached I have become to a four month old, but harder to believe that I’ll probably never see his beautiful eyes again. It’s definitely proved to me that it doesn’t take very long to fall in love.

Some of my fellow ELAPers and I took a final trip to the medina to walk around and find a few last minute gifts for ourselves. The heat today definitely reminded us we were in Africa. But it was nice to be miserable and laugh and avoid creepy old men together one last time. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle shopping in the states again – there’s just something so thrilling about being able to barter your way down to a good price and find the bath soap next to some Nikes. Shopping inside is overrated.

We leave at midnight tonight for our bus ride to Casablanca. We have to be at the airport by five for some of the students to make their morning flights. It’s going to be such a long couple of travel days, so I’m not sure if/when I’ll check in again. If anything, I’ll have one last post next week to reflect on my whole experience here. Everything is still surreal to me right now, so I’m going to give it the time to sink in. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to wrap my head around the fact that I just spent a month in northern Africa. But maybe not.

Our final roomie picture - (clockwise) Cassie, Katie, Carol, me, Shelby, Sophie

Until next time!

Hosting a Henna Party

What. A. DAY.

Today was so special and fun and definitely not the kind of day I needed to make leaving Morocco easier. This morning I went to Le Nid and got to take the toddlers outside to play. Their outdoor play area is on the roof of the hospital. There is basically just an awning and a fence up there with a bunch of ride on toys. I can’t say I ever thought I would be playing with babies on the roof, but it happened. And they were so happy to be outside. Their little faces lit up as soon as the wind met their cheeks. It was a beautiful morning.

Also at the nest this morning, I delivered the little surprise I have been working on. If you’ll recall, I experience my first “deal” a few days ago and acquired a bag full of maroon wool yarn. The purpose of the yarn was for me to use to crochet a security blanket for one of the baby boys. He’s a beautiful little angel who stole my heart the moment I first held him. I have continued to hold him and sing to him and fall madly in love with him for the last three weeks, so I just didn’t feel okay leaving forever without having some kind of connection to him. Mouhsine helped me make sure it was alright that I give him a special gift that would be his to keep. I got to put the blanket in his crib while he slept and he wrapped his tiny fist around the threads so tight. I’m not sure if my gift will ever mean anything for him, but it meant all the world to me.

This evening I got to test my skills as a hostess! I set up for our apartment to have a henna party. In Morocco, you hire a woman to come to your home to paint henna. You invite friends over and host a small party with music and food while everyone gets beautified. It's time to be social and it forces you to talk to each other because henna takes absolutely forever. I thought it would be a good way to spend our last full night together as roommates. I even cleaned the house and baked cookies, so I guess I did alright. We all had an awesome time and the henna came out stunning for everyone. And of course, our henna artist blew my mind. Her art is absolutely a gift.

Tonight was a great send off. Tomorrow will be spent saying goodbyes and trying to find a way to pack all my stuff in my suitcase, insha’Allah (God willing)… For now, I seriously need to sleep. Playing Martha Stewart takes it out of you.

Night!

Too Young to Wed

I’ve definitely seen plenty of things here in Morocco that I will never forget. But today, I saw something that I know will be burned in my memory and on my heart.

The women’s co-op in Bassatine put on a photography exhibition today entitled “Trop Jeunes pour le Mariage” – Too Young to Wed. The exhibition displayed a photography project sponsored by the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), and is a visual representation of the reality of child marriage and parenthood in the world, particularly Africa. 

The projects website states:

“UNFPA expands the possibilities for women and young people to lead healthy and productive lives. UNFPA is the lead agency for delivering a world where every pregnancy is wanted, every childbirth is safe, and every young person’s potential is fulfilled. These three goals go straight to the heart of development and relate directly to the issue of child marriage.” Too Young to Wed

I could go on a very long time about the statistics and aims of the project, but I would encourage you all instead to check out the website. It is extremely well done and informative, and I promise it will make you feel something.

The exhibition itself had me in tears, literally. Especially in reflecting on my own situation as a well-supported, grown women about to marry a man I love very deeply, I was profoundly disturbed at the images and stories of innocent little girls becoming brides and mothers. I cannot imagine being engaged at the age of five, married at eight, pregnant at twelve to a man literally three or four times my age (or more). I wanted to rip the poster down and tear it apart, as though that action would somehow remove the suffering from the world. The photos are eerily beautiful, perfectly capturing feelings of betrayal, anger, and terror on the faces of tiny wives and mother. Girls who should be learning who they are and how to love themselves instead of how to please a husband and raise another little girl who she will watch suffer the same fate.

Loosely: "They decorated my hands with henna, but I did not know who would get married. My mother came and she told me "Come my daughter." Then, they celebrated my marriage." - Tehani, married at six years old.

Ghulam, 11 years old, and her husband Faiz, 40. 

For the rest of the day, I tried to go out and keep myself from obsessing over the images. My roommates and I went to the medina yet again to explore and enjoy one of our last few summer nights in Morocco. I even bought some henna powder, so those of you who want me to beautify your hands when I come home can get excited. I’ll be leaving in just two short days. I wish I had just a little more time, just a little something more that I could do before it’s time to go. But I guess every adventure has to end eventually.

Until tomorrow. 

Moroccan Nights

Sorry for the late post everyone! I got home so late from the medina last night I just didn’t have it in me to write anything. But, I finally have all my gift shopping done! Now, to fit it all in my suitcase…

Speaking of the medina at night, it is a whole different ballgame. Right about the time it is getting actually dark, the shops are starting to close up and the people start filling the square and the restaurants. It’s almost as though there’s a huge summer festival every night, with street performances, fires, and (my personal favorite) corn on the cob stations every ten feet. Morocco really comes alive at night.

Yesterday was another great Tuesday at Le Nid and teaching English. It’s hard to believe it was my last Tuesday here. At the hospital, I got to spend time with a few of the different classes including the special needs class and an early elementary class. I met a little girl who is essentially the spitting image of Sara Toombs circa 2001. She knew that we didn’t speak Arabic, so she proceeded to point, gesture, and mimic to let us know exactly what she wanted us to do. She also very clearly let us know when what we were doing was wrong, and made sure that we were aware of how good she was at counting and writing her name. To top it off, her name is also Sarah. So, you know, there’s a little Moroccan me. Who knew? She did teach me how to write our name in Arabic, which I am pretty excited about.

My English class at the women’s co-op went well, as usual. The women are very eager to learn and quick to laugh at themselves, which is a recipe for a great classroom. Sometimes teaching is really challenging for me though, and I’ve kind of discovered my own lack of patience on this trip. But I’ve also gained a lot of respect for the people who do it every day. Especially English teachers – God bless your souls, because there is no logic in this stuff. “If finger is fingers, and leg is legs, why is foot feet and not foots?” Good question. I can’t answer it.

It’s getting really close to time to come home. I’m excited to be back, but it’s going to be so hard to leave here with all this work left unfinished and these friendships I have made. I guess that just means I have to come visit someday.

Until tonight. 

Teach the Change

A busy Monday in Meknes!

My day started off on a pretty intriguing note with a discussion about sexual harassment. The ELAP students and a group of Moroccan students gathered in the ISA office for a group discussion led by Mouhsine. The purpose of the session was to have students of both cultures sound off about sexual harassment in general, but more specifically the attention that females receive on the streets here in Morocco. It did end up being a little heated, but that’s to be expected almost anytime you tread the waters of this topic. I’ll admit that the conversation was a little frustrating for me, because I could see that there are certain elements of the harassment type behavior that are too ingrained in the culture to be seen as harmful. Some of the comments from the boys were that if the attention is positive, than women shouldn’t be offended by it. It was a good opportunity for some of us from the other perspective to weigh in on the fact that any unwanted attention is negative. I think the personal issue I have with the male/female dynamic here is this: If I were a man, I could walk down the street unaccompanied without concern for where my eyes make contact or how passersby see me. As a woman, I am unable to exercise that right, and am forced to build a wall and carry it with me every time I enter the street. And while the boys insisted that the attention is usually harmless and “just for sport,” I don’t think they completely realize the pressure this places on every encounter a woman has. Because when you cannot tell the difference between “sport” and threat, everything becomes a potential danger. One boy said his opinion is that men and women should be treated the same and that we have to be the change we want to see. I agree with him, but I also think it's important to teach the change too. 

After the rousing ELAP discussion, I headed over to IPDF for my last day of work with my very good friend Soukaina. She was also interning at the association, but finished today and will be leaving to travel very soon. I am so grateful for her kindness and translating – I could not have survived in the placement I so desperately wanted to be in without her. I hope that we will be able to see each other again someday.

This evening a few friends and I braved the Medina for some souvenir shopping. I’ve never been to the shops in the evening before and it is a whole other animal. Walking through the narrow alleys is a bit like trying to push your way to the front row at a sold out, standing-room only concert.  But it’s absolutely exhilarating, and one of those moments that makes you think “holy crap, I am not in Kansas anymore.” We got a lot of good shopping down with our semi-effective haggling skills. The funniest moment of the evening by far came out of my bullheaded determination to find a place to buy wool yarn. We looked forever, and then decided to ask a vendor (who is a friend of Mouhsine’s) if he would show us the way. I followed him through what I can only describe as a crack in the wall to a little alcove where a very small old man was working on a loom. They had a heated five minute discussion which seemed a little intense to be about yarn, but the next thing I knew the vendor was handing me a bag of random spools and telling me to give the man 50dh before he changed his mind. At this point, I was pretty sure I was experience my first ever drug deal, so I gave him the bill and left quickly and quietly. Luckily, the bag was in fact full of yarn and not any questionable substances, so I chalked it up to another memorable cultural experience. I was just excited to have the materials for a little plan I have cooking up.

We finished off the night with a snack of fresh corn on the cob and fruit juice. Then it was back to the apartment to get ready to do it all again tomorrow!

Until then. 

If You’re Going to Get Food Poisoning…: Asilah, Morocco

If you’re going to get food poisoning, you might as well do it on a weekend excursion instead of during the week when you have to go to work. And you might as well do it when you’re in a beautiful beach town like Asilah. And you might as well get it from some really tasty seafood.

But even then it sure is not fun.

I wasn’t able to update over the weekend, so I’m putting this excursion all in one post. But luckily I am able to cut Friday down pretty short and sweet due to the fact that all I really did was have a really delicious lunch that tried to kill me. We arrived in Asilah in the early afternoon, had a short tour of the Medina, and then lunch next to the ocean. As it turns out, even (really, really) fresh seafood can be bad! So the rest of my Friday was spent on the floor of my hotel bathroom face-to-face with the toilet bowl. But I lived to tell the tale and (eventually) eat shellfish another day.

Saturday I was very glad for the tranquil speed of this weekend’s excursion. It was very much a beach vacation, so I got to spend the day relaxing and enjoying my absolutely beautiful surroundings. The majority of our group left early in the morning for a beach farther away, but I wasn’t feeling quite up to it, so my morning and early afternoon were mine to spend in peace and solitude. I took a long walk beside the water, listened to some music on the sand, and took a nap in the courtyard of the hotel. It was a pretty perfect way to recuperate and get some time by myself to reflect. And, to take some pretty great photos.

In the evening I was feeling back up to normal speed, so I went with a group of friends to shop and explore the medina. We watched the sunset from a high lookout, and while we were taken completely by surprise. A few local Moroccan boys about our age stripped their shirts and shoes off and dove from the wall into the ocean. I can assure you that with the abundance and placement of rocks far below us, this was not a safe cliff dive for even the most adventurous of people. I was so certain that I had just watched someone die. My stomach still hurts just thinking about it. But, several minutes later they came back dripping wet, ready to jump again, and way braver than I ever will be.

Today we were able to drive the short distance north to Tangier where Morocco is separated from Spain only by the Strait of Gibraltar. So, I still haven’t been to Spain yet, but I’ve seen it from Africa! We got a chance to explore the city a bit as well, which is pretty well-defined as a modge-podge of Spanish, French, English, and Moroccan culture. You can literally see the different influences divided into different parts of the city. We ate fresh figs we bought from a market vendor and saw Gran Café de Paris (apparently they shot a scene in Borne Ultimatum here?). Then we headed back to Meknes and I took a long, hard nap on the four-hour bus ride home.

Spain - so close I could almost touch it!

This weekend definitely had its ups and one major down, but I’m so glad to have experienced Asilah and Tangier. Northern Morocco is full of culturally eclectic and stunning locations that I will rave about forever.

Back to work tomorrow!

Buenas noches! (Because, you know, Spain.)

P.S. Happy birthday to my amazing Nana! I can't wait to see you when I get home! 

My Moroccan Sisters

Dear parents: If you ever want to discourage your teenage daughters from becoming pregnant teenage daughters, I have discovered the most effective method of birth control on the planet. Send them to work at an orphanage on bath day.

I really love the work that I am doing at Le Nid – truly, I do. Holding those little babies and seeing them smile is something I could do every day forever. But dear sweet lord did I need prayers for patience today. I get emotional and upset so easily, and it isn’t easy to control that when I’m in the middle of an assembly line of babies being fed, changed, bathed, and medicated. It makes you want to scream and take all the children somewhere far away, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Also, screaming babies are screaming babies; it grates on your nerves regardless of how much compassion you feel. So this morning was exhausting and heavy, but I still loved being there. The sound of babies’ laughter has officially become one of my favorite songs. There’s a little boy with the most beautiful brown eyes that I love to hold, and today I sang him to sleep. He giggled when I started singing and continued smiling until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. I know it will be one of my favorite memories.

Cooking class this afternoon definitely revealed my personality, namely my complete lack of ability to be organized. Today’s American recipe was brownies. As soon as I got to the association, I realized I had forgotten the butter in the refrigerator, so Amina had to take me to a corner store to buy some. Then later, I was literally in the middle of mixing the batter when I realized I had also forgotten the eggs. Amina managed to save the day again and ran (literally) to buy me eggs. Next it occurred to me that there was not an appropriate brownie baking pan available to me, so I poured the batter in a skillet and stuck the whole thing in the oven. I was quite embarrassed by this point, so of course then I burned the brownies. I wasn’t really hitting any home runs in the baking department today, I’ll tell you that. But is anyone really surprised?

Things turned out, as they usually do. I scraped the burnt off of the brownies (my mom taught me well), and they came out delicious. We ended up with another great week of America meets Morocco baking class and a ton of great tasting treats. The Moroccan gatos this week were a sesame shortbread cookie with powdered sugar coating and a savory gato with corn meal, tuna, and onion. (Explanation – Gatos can be sweet cookie type treats or savory snackish treats.) I am actually thinking about trying to make the tuna ones at home, so we will see if I can continue my terrible baking streak in the states.

To top off today’s class, Amina gave me a beautiful bracelet and a ring as a late birthday gift. I tried to give it back, but she insisted. They even sang happy birthday to me (in multiple languages, of course). The women at IPDF are absolutely amazing, fun-loving, and kind people who make me feel so blessed to spend time with them. They’ve taught me a lot about being a support system for other women and how powerful those relationships can be. It has brought new meaning to my understanding of sisterhood. We are all sisters, and it’s so important to be a mentor or friend to another woman. There could be a time when those relationships are all she has.

I have to get to sleep now because tomorrow we are up bright and early to head to Asilah. I’m hoping I’ll be able to update this weekend, but if I can’t you’ll hear all about it on Sunday.

Goodnight!

When All Else Fails, Smile

The go, go, go of the last three weeks finally caught up to me today. It took everything I had to convince myself I had to get out of bed and go to work at 8 this morning, but I did it. The fact that it would be really embarrassing to write “I slept all day” in my blog was motivating, so thanks built in personal trainer.

This morning I split my time between the two halves of the center for elderly and children. As it always is for me in the states, spending time with the elderly women there was really difficult for me. It’s the same feeling I have while I’m at Le Nid; I just feel as though it’s easy to forget that these individuals are people. In our busy and preoccupied eyes they so easily become a chore or burden, instead of human beings who want people to show them companionship and genuine interest. So Sara, Emily and I did our best today to spend time with the women, sitting and “talking” with them. We didn’t understand a lot of what they were saying, but it was easy to just let them tell us their stories while we nodded and smiled accordingly. The listening was more important than our understanding anyway.

One woman told me about her family who have all passed away and she began to cry. She let me sit beside her and hold her hand while she remembered them. Another woman had beautiful light blue eyes that reminded me of Sam’s. I was able to remember how to tell her in Darija that she has beautiful eyes, and I thought she was going to fall out of her chair. She pulled me closer by my pant leg and started to hug my knees, so I kneeled down to give her a real hug. She hugged me close and kissed my cheeks while she said something in Darija. I still have no idea what she was saying to me, but judging by the context clues I think she was really excited that I appreciated her eye color.

I also spent some time with the children who live at the center. The excitement of the blue-eyed woman became boredom in comparison to the energy and enthusiasm the kids expressed to have us there. They wanted to practice their French with us and ask us one billion questions in the process. The top questions of the day were “Are you married?” and “Do you have any children?” After a few tries I gave up on trying to explain that I’m almost married and just went with “Qui.” instead. They absolutely lost it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen twelve and thirteen year olds happier. I also think they are all now under the assumption that they are invited to the wedding, so we might need a bigger chapel…

I’m really excited to get to go back to Le Nid tomorrow morning. It’s hard to imagine that I only have a few more chances to go hold those little babies in my arms. I want to soak in as much as I can and put in as much as possible for the next ten days. As exhausted as I am now, I want to be even moreso. I think being exhausted just proves that you didn’t keep anything for yourself.

Bon nuit!

Mini Mouhsine: Side-Kick Extraordinaire

I need to interrupt your regularly scheduled blog post for an important announcement: THIS BLOG HAS OVER 1,000 VIEWS. I’m so excited and grateful for all of you who have been reading and sharing my adventure.

Today, I got the chance to be “Mini Mouhsine.” A new group of students arrived on Friday and started their placements this week, so they are still getting adjusted to where to go and what to do. I went with Mouhsine (ELAP director) to a few different placements today helping with getting the new and old acquainted. And he sent me on a few wild goose chase type errands, but bought me a coconut soda for my trouble, so I think we're square. We also determined today that I now officially work in five different placements. I think that proves I haven’t completely changed…

Mouhsine and his new personal assistant. 

I was very excited to finally get to go to the center I talked about at the very beginning that houses both elderly individuals and children whose families cannot afford to care for them. We got a tour of the center today and my mind was brimming with ideas for little projects that I think could really bring some joy to the residents. My first and favorite of these is this: the walls around children’s area are currently plain white cement with barbed wire at the tops, and I want to paint a mural there. However, I am decidedly crap at all things artistic, so I talked to Mouhsine about setting up a cooperative with the art club at Moulay Ismail university. Hopefully, if all goes well, it will be a “foot in the door” way to get the Moroccan students involved with the American students and doubly benefit the associations.

At the women’s cooperative this afternoon I had my first English class with the ladies there. It was a genuinely new experience for me to be teaching students who did not even know the alphabet. I also have a newfound respect for speech pathology majors because it is absolutely mind numbing to try and explain the difference between the “these” th sound and the “things” th sound. Luckily, my students have a good sense of humor and I have no shame, so any and all tactics were fair game. The class was a blast and I’m truly sad that I will only have one more next week.

Only twelve posts to go after this one! It’s amazing how the time can pass so quickly and so slowly at the same time. I am being pulled very firmly in two directions, which adds to it all the more. I want to be here doing this work and I want to be at camp doing that work. I guess it’s at least comforting that I won’t just be going home to do nothing. That would kill me after all of this. 

Thank you again for sticking through all these posts with me! Stay tuned for more of my awkward adventures. 

A Beautiful Whisper

Hi all!

Today was a fairly uneventful day here in Meknes. At the women’s center I babysat a little girl named Miriam while her mother was taking part in the group counseling session. She was really shy at first and I couldn’t talk to her to warm her up, but tickling works in every language so we became friends fast. I also got a lot of practice using the Darija words for no and stay. Two new students who just arrived to Meknes also came to the association today, so I got a chance to meet both of them and help them get situated. After work, I took them out for coffee and tried to give them a better idea of what to expect at our placement. Maybe it wasn’t too necessary, but I would have wanted someone to tell me anything and everything on my first day, so I gave it a shot. They both seem really passionate about gender equality, so I at least know the next two weeks have some great conversation potential.

Really the only other things I did today were eat and watch Frozen with my roommates, so I guess we’ll chalk this one up to lazy Monday syndrome. I’m going to take advantage of the leftover space on this post though to share something I didn’t have room for over the weekend.

On the way to Rabat on Saturday morning I was sitting by myself on the bus. I couldn’t fall asleep so I decided to listen to music, which I haven’t done much since I got here. I’ve really been missing church and worship band time since being here, so I put on my favorite camp playlist and curled up next to the window. The song “Life’s Noise” by Bluetree came on, and I am a stinking huge Bluetree fan, so I started jamming out pretty hard for eight o’clock in the morning. Then suddenly, as though I had never heard them before, the lyrics became clear and fascinating.

“He wasn’t in the fire. He wasn’t in the quake. He wasn’t in the wind. He’s in a whisper.”

I don’t think the message I got out of this song in that moment is at all related to the actual intention behind the lyrics, but it was everything I have needed to hear for the past two weeks. I occurred to me that I don’t need to do the biggest thing or the loudest thing or even the best thing.

He’s in a whisper.

God is in my whisper. In my calm voice. In my comforting hands. My knowing eyes. My giving heart. He doesn’t want my dramatic sacrifice or my elaborate plan. He doesn’t need them. The world doesn’t need me or what I can do. The world needs beauty, justice, peace, love and light – gorgeous, radiant light brought softly into sight through the gentle whisper of kindness, the murmur of compassion, generosity, and love.

My life is a whisper, and it’s beautiful.

So while I have been trying so hard to figure out my purpose here and worrying that I won't be able to make a big, unmistakable difference before I leave, God was in all the little works I think are so insignificant. I don’t have to show God’s love in an extravagant or loud or even visible way. And I think maybe those things tend to draw more attention to the person than the passion. So, no matter how small I think my impact is, I have to remember that there is light in everything I do with a generous heart.

That’s all I really have to say for tonight. Sorry it’s a little off track from my normal posts. It just felt like something I needed to share.

Until tomorrow. 

I Belong in the Mountains: Ifrane, Morocco

I am in love with Ifrane.

Today, the “Switzerland” of Morocco gained the prestigious ranks of my absolute favorite places of all time. And I finally checked “Ride a Horse in a Different Country” off of my bucket list! It was a truly amazing day for a lot of reasons.

Ifrane is an eerily quiet town in the Atlas Mountains that is also apparently the second cleanest city in the world. (No clue what the first is.) The contrast between the noisy urban streets of Meknes and the calm fresh breeze of Ifrane was almost shocking. I thought I might actually have left Morocco somehow and ended up in the Alps. The rocky landscape is full of mighty, deep rooted trees and a gorgeous mixed aroma of pine and cedar. I never wanted to leave.

The horseback riding worked out absolutely perfectly. After a big Berber breakfast at the ranch house, Katie and I headed off on our horses while the group started out on their hike. The plan was to meet up with them after the short first leg of the hike at the point where we could see the Atlas monkeys. Our guide was a boy who looked like he might be ten years old if I’m being generous and we were accompanied by two other boys who were 13 at best. They were really sweet boys who constantly asked if we were okay and apologized whenever the trail had hanging branches. The horses were of course beautiful, sporting funny Berber saddles complete with tiny silver sequins. My horse was ornery, because when have I ever had a horse that isn’t ornery? I think I attract the sassy ones.

The ride was peaceful and so beautiful; it really reminded me of all the things I love about riding horses. You get to let go of so many things on a horse, and they just fall away with each brush of its tail. There’s a certain level of connection with nature that you can only achieve when an animal takes you there. I wouldn’t have wanted to first see the mountains any other way.

After our ride, we joined the group for the long stint of the hike from Ifrane to Azrou. The hike itself was strenuous, and the view was of course stunning, but today was also significant to me for another big reason. The trek up through the forest to the top lookout point was genuinely difficult. It was steep and fast-paced and a hard, hard hike for a good majority of the people in our group. I, in particular, found myself really struggling and frustrated because of that struggle. It’s a pretty well-known fact that I do not take care of my body as well as I should, I have a lot of accidents, and my lungs are completely useless bags that don’t work very well in normal conditions. So today, I struggled. I hurt. I wanted to quit. But my body didn’t give up, or stop, or break down on me. My body worked hard – legs, lungs, heart and all. And when I got to the top and looked out at the gorgeous view from the mountain, I was proud of my body. I spend a lot of time criticizing my body for all that it isn’t and I forget to be grateful for all that it is – strong, capable, and mine. Without it, I couldn’t be here doing all that I am. I couldn’t have hiked the mountain and I couldn’t have held little babies in my arms. For that, I love my body.

So, to reward my awesome body for all its hard work, I had an avocado and shrimp salad for lunch. It tasted like victory. And on the bus ride home, I napped like a champion.

On the rest of the hike down to Azrou, the fast half of the group ended up in front of me and the slow half was behind me. I could just see the first group and just hear the second, but I was otherwise alone in the middle of our convoy. I could feel the pace of my heart in my chest and my feet on the ground line up perfectly with each other, with cool air chilling the sweat on my neck. It was one of those moments that begs to be prayed in, when you can practically feel God listening. I laid out a lot of the questions being here has raised for me and sought direction for my next two weeks. Then I thought about what happens after those two weeks are done. What direction am I supposed to take when I go home with all these new strings attached to my heart? I don’t have an answer, but I know that one exists. I just don’t think I will know it until I get there.

Tomorrow I’ll be back to work with more stories to share from Meknes.

Until then. 

My Moroccan Birthday: Rabat, Morocco

Hello, twenty-one!

Today was a really memorable way to start my twenty first year of life. As much as I wanted to be home to celebrate with family and friends, I’m so glad I got to spend my special day in Morocco.

We were off bright and early this morning, headed for Rabat. Rabat, which means “fortified place,” is the capital city of Morocco. It is so interesting and different from what I think of as a capital; the urban city with its economic and political buildings is mixed with the royal palace, traditional markets, ancient structures, and a gorgeous beach. We spent the day in one city and it felt like I had seen half the country.

A lot of interesting and beautiful sights were included on the morning’s walking tour. Our guide, whose family has lived in Rabat for over 300 years, was absolutely hilarious and could not speak quieter than a shouting voice. Some of my favorite highlights include the Roman ruins of Rabat (complete with the nesting storks they are famous for), the first Christian house in Rabat, and the mausoleum where the current king’s grandfather, father, and uncle rest. The weather made the seeing the city even more of a birthday treat – the sky perfectly matched the token blue walls that line the streets. (Turns out, this color of blue actually detracts mosquitoes, so they paint it everywhere… Who knew?)

Look for the storks at the top of the trees!

Door to the first Christian home in Rabat

We spent the rest of our time in Rabat at the beach… when we actually found it. I’m almost certain that my group took the most roundabout way possible to get there, walking through the shops of the Medina and nearly turning around hundreds of times. In retrospect, I think my roommates learned a valuable lesson of trusting my navigation skills. I don’t think they’ll make that mistake twice. When we did arrive, however, we were greeted by a stunning view and warm sand. We were also, unfortunately, greeted by a lot of stares and comments from locals, but that had to be expected. It’s kind of hard to blend in when you’ve got the whitest girl in the west as part of your team. On a funny side note, one of the girls in our group today lifted up the skirt of my dress at one point and said, “Oh my god, your legs! They’re so white. It’s beautiful, like porcelain. I’ve never seen someone’s skin that white.” Sooo… I’m going to put that one down as a compliment.

After a long afternoon exploring in the sun and sand, we headed back to Meknes for the night. My roommates and a few other friends, however, were determined to get me out on my birthday. I finally decided it was time to get out of my comfort zone a little more, so I let them take me to my first hookah bar. It was actually a really good time sitting and laughing with everyone while we all tried (and mostly failed) to blow smoke rings. The place we went is owned by our coordinator’s best friend and has a really friendly, relaxing vibe. There was a singer and a small band playing tonight who ended up surprising me at the request of one really sweet girl in our group. The band sang me happy birthday, English and Arabic style! I was embarrassed, but I loved every minute of it. I also accidentally knocked our hookah over and the coal fell on my foot, so at least we know turning twenty-one hasn’t changed me all that much.

The lights at the Hookah place made us look strange, but we took selfies anyway. 

Tomorrow we are off to Ifrane for a day in the Atlas Mountains. I arranged for a birthday present for myself tomorrow too – Katie and I are going horseback riding in the forest! I can’t wait! So, I have to sleep now so that tomorrow will come faster.

Thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special. 

The Three Best Friends that Anyone Could Have

Best. Birthday Eve. EVER.

That poor sentence structure was entirely necessary, I assure you. If the day before my birthday is any indication of how the actual day will go, I am about to have the best birthday of my life.

This morning I got to be a bum and sleep in until ten. Then I was off to meet Amina for my couscous cooking lesson. She actually ended up taking me to her sister’s house in Bassatine where a host of family members were waiting to greet us. The entire party included Amina, her sister Fati and her husband, her sister Iman, her mother, and both of her children. Couscous Friday is quite the family affair. Fatee’s house is absolutely beautiful and I felt so blessed to be welcomed into her home as a stranger. They have a particularly impressive “family” room, which is one of my favorite things about Moroccan homes. They typically have a room in which the walls are lined with couches and maybe a small coffee table in the middle. This room’s sole purpose is meeting with friends for conversation and tea. A lot of homes also have this set up for their “dining” room, with couches around a table, because meals are meant to be a bonding experience for the family and their friends. And what a bonding experience today’s lunch was.

You can't see my face, but the room is the point here.

Fati and Amina showed me all the ins and outs of preparing the traditional Friday meal. Friday is the Islamic holy day, and it’s essentially a holiday every week. The meal is a large communal dish with couscous on the bottom, a whole chicken in the middle, vegetables piled on top, and spices/sauce all over everything. It was amazing. I did, however, fall prey to that awkward social situation where a meal is full of a food you are intolerant to and you don’t want to be rude so you just take one for the team. The results are in – tomatoes still make me really, really sick. But that was a small downside to an otherwise excellent day, so I’ll take it.

Things that are absolutely true about Moroccans: One, they love food. Two, they eat a lot of food. Three, they will expect you to eat a lot of food as well. Four, they will laugh at you and your “Americaness” when you cannot eat another bite without exploding and they put more on your plate anyway, urging you to “mange.” And five, Moroccans love to celebrate, welcome, and give.

It came up in conversation that tomorrow is my birthday, and everyone was so excited. I wasn’t entirely sure what was being said because I am notably terrible at Arabic, but Amina’s son ran out the door only to come back some twenty minutes later with a box of henna powder. As it turns out, Amina’s sister Iman paints henna and she wanted to paint my hands for my birthday. I honestly could have cried. I think I said thank you in six languages just to make sure I got the point across. It came out so beautiful.

So, obviously, I was feeling pretty great all afternoon. I spent most of the day there, then got home and did a whole lot of nothing lying around the house with my roommates. We decided to try our luck with Pizza Hut for dinner (I know. Americans.), but the only pizza they had without tomato sauce was called “Fruit de Mar” – a.k.a, seafood pizza. But I decided I was up for a culinary adventure, and it didn’t turn out too bad. A little weird, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Then, just as I was getting my laptop out to blog, three of my roommates – Carol, Katie, and Cassie – came out of the kitchen with an ice cream cake and a bouquet of roses singing a gorgeous rendition of “Happy Birthday.” I truly could not believe it. I’m usually not a fan of surprises, but this one absolutely made me feel better about being away from home for my birthday. I’ve only known these girls two weeks and they did one of the nicest things for me that I can remember. I think it’s safe to say – Best. Roommates. Ever.

Now, I’m off to bed. When I wake up, I won’t be twenty anymore!

Goodbye, twenty!

Cookie Dough: The Ultimate Bonding Experience

Alright, everyone cross your fingers now that I don’t fall asleep on the keyboard. Today was a long one.

This morning I was back at Le Nid again. We spent the whole morning with the babies - feeding them, holding them, playing with the toddlers. I had a lot of the safe emotions to deal with as the first time, but things were chaotic enough to keep me focused on what I was there to do. While I’m there it’s all bottles and diapers and no room to breathe. But afterward I just can’t help but dwell on how broken the world is. There are so many babies in that hospital. So many little lives. I haven’t figured out how to separate myself from it yet. I don’t know if I have the strength to, really. I held a little boy today who captured my whole heart with his beautiful little eyes. He was so happy to be held, giggling and snuggling his face into my chest. All I wanted was to give him a mother and father and a home to fill with his little laugh. I think I’m starting that I might have a passion for orphans. The actual direction of that passion is something I’m praying hard about. I believe there is a purpose behind this pull that I feel, but figuring out what I can actually do with it is hugely different.

After Le Nid was the fateful moment of the day: cooking class. The ladies started out by teaching me some more Moroccan recipes and then I tried to show them how to make chocolate chip cookies. Turns out, I’m just as bad at baking in Morocco as I am in the states. Surprise, surprise. Luckily whether I could cook or not had no bearing on how much fun the ladies and I had trying. I slightly overlooked the minor detail of metric units, so I had to base a lot of the measuring off of my own knowledge of how much one cup is. (This is not strong knowledge.) But, the ladies all had a good laugh about how much of a mess I made and how awkward I was trying to explain what I was doing. It was actually great female bonding time, which I feel like I’ve gotten more of in the last two weeks than I have in my entire life. One of the women, Amina, brought a new “dress” that her sister bought her. In Morocco, they wear a special, fancier version of the traditional jlaba for special occasions like ceremonies and weddings. When she showed us, I intended to just admire it by feeling the fabric and telling her how “zweena” it is. She had a different plan; next thing I knew I was wearing the dress and she was posing me for pictures. I felt strange, but accepted. As uncomfortable as I am with social situations, I really am learning to love how close women in Morocco are. It’s as though they are all sisters from birth who comfort, support, and laugh with each other through everything.

Tonight’s English class ended up being a bit of a bust as far as actual teaching goes, but still an interesting night. I was told that my class would be intermediate level, so I prepared a lesson plan thinking along the lines of students who still wouldn’t have a strong grasp on the language. I ended up with two students who are English majors at Moulay Ismail and basically fluent, so my lesson was essentially useless. The best I could think of on my feet was to scrap the lesson altogether and have a conversation with them about the differences between Moroccan and American culture. We talked a lot about holidays and celebrations, and then the girls told me about Moroccan weddings. I cannot fathom planning a wedding that lasts three days, wearing several dresses in one day, and being carried around in a chair by a bunch of men. On the other hand, their customs are so rich and beautiful, it’s enough to make my little American wedding feel meek in comparison. Overall, we had an awesome conversation and next week I get to plan like and actual English teacher. Look mom and dad, I’m using my degree after all!

My classroom!

To finish off a really long day, I happened upon the chance to spend some time talking to a Franciscan monk who helps coordinate the school where I teach. (Think cool French guy, not balding man in a brown dress.) He told me about the formation of the school for the poor, started about 70 years ago by a group of monks. Our conversation escalated to a discussion about people’s perspectives on religious customs and what it means to live a Christian lifestyle. It was a bit of a surreal moment, walking through the streets of the Medina, surrounded by a country full of people who share the same faith, and discussing perspectives on Christianity with a stranger. It’s hard to describe, but I felt really connected to a sense of spirituality. Stephan also said something that I know I will take home with me. He told me that being a friar in Morocco has made his life as a “missionary” so much more profound because his job isn’t to tell the people what to believe, but just to give them a better life because God called him to.

For now, friends, I am called to get some sleep. Tomorrow I am going to Amina’s house to learn how Moroccans prepare couscous!

Happy Thursday!