It's About the Journey

What a month is has been. There's no way that I could talk about everything that's been going on in the last month (if you think my last few entries have been long... just wait). Instead, I'll give you the Cliff Notes (Sparknotes for the younger crowd) version of my life in Morocco since I wrote last, and maybe a few personal thoughts here and there. Instead of going chronologically, I start at the present and back up a bit. I'm sitting in a Riad (traditional Moroccan-home-turned-into-hotel) down some narrow alley in the ancient medina of Marrakech. A few hours ago, I met my mom at the airport as she flew in all the way from California (via London). Its a bit surreal seeing one of your parents after you haven't seen them for 5 months. It's not like coming home however, it's more of a welcoming them (my mom) into the place and country that you call home. It's a strange feeling. But I'm excited, to say the least, to introduce my mom to the amazing culture and life here in Morocco. I know that 4 days isn't really enough to get a good grasp of this place, but I hope that in the short time we have together here, she will have a little insight to the culture, the food, the hospitality, the religion, and the landscape (both physical and social) of this amazing country.

In order to come down to Marrakech (a good 700km south of Tangier), I left Tangier yesterday morning for Casablanca. I could have taken the train straight to Marrakech, but I didn't want to spend 11 hours in one spot, so I decided to break the trip up a bit. And instead of taking the nice CTM bus (the nicest, and most expensive, bus company in Morocco), I decided to go to the bus station and take the "regular" bus. You don't need any reservations or timetables for these buses. You simply show up at the station whenever you want to go. There you find men yelling "Dar Baida!" "Rabat!" "Fes!" "Meknes!" and so forth. I found the guy yelling "Dar Baida" (Casablanca... literally 'white house' in Arabic) and handed him a few dirhams (almost half the cost of the CTM) and just like that I was on the bus and we were off. Besides the lack of air-conditioning, opening windows, or any other form of ventilation, I thought "This isn't too bad. Why haven't I done this more often?" I could say that I'm used to crummy buses. After four months in sub-saharan Africa and 5,000 miles of bus travel, I had enough crazy substandard bus rides to last me a lifetime. This bus was still luxury compared to some others I'd been on. Plus, it was only 5 or 6 hours max, which was a lot better than 30 or 40 hours (for example, in Mozambique). This was all good until about 30 minutes from Casablanca when the engine started making funny noises and quickly faded to a small put-put. The driver pulled off the highway and turned off the engine. A few seconds later, his attempt to restart the engine was unsuccessful and within a minute or two, everyone was off the bus. Some ambitious men started running along the highway trying to hitch a ride with a passing semi-truck or flat-bed. When I realized that the bus wasn't going to start, I decided the only option is to walk or to do the same as the other men. I walked down the highway and tried to waive down any car or truck that I could tell either had room inside, or a place outside for me to jump on and/or ride on. Fortunately, many of the cars and trucks on the highway saw the broken down bus with a bunch of stranded men and women and therefore pulled over to give lifts to anyone looking for one. Within a few minutes, a business man in an VW Golf pulled over and let me and another man in. He took us down the highway toward the city. Since he wasn't going to the main part of Casablanca, he dropped the two of us off on the highway where we could walk off the highway and catch a taxi into the city center. Almost 7 hours after leaving Tangier (in a car it's only 3.5 or 4 hours), I finally made it to my destination. Sure, the train would have been easier and CTM would have been nicer (and more expensive), but how often do you get crazy stories like this? One day I hope to share stories like with my kids and look back to how much things have changed (or not) with time. Also, I asked myself, "How much have I been separated from the reality of life of a lower-middle-class Moroccan?" I have the funds and the opportunity to take CTM and do things that are luxuries for most of the people in this country. It was a reminder that not everyone in Morocco drives in cars to get to their destination, takes CTM, or has air-conditioning. When the bus broke down, I could have been upset and frustrated - and I had every right to be - that the bus I paid for didn't even make it to the destination, but in hind-sight, there is something so beautiful about this. In most cases, there is some sort of good that comes from the negative. In this case, the negative was that my bus broke down, but the positive was that within 15 minutes, every passenger on the bus (man or woman) was picked up and given a free ride into the city. All they had to do was stand on the highway with their arm out pointing toward Casablanca. I know that not every negative situation has something positive with it, but I find that the longer we focus on the negative the less likely we will see the positive.

Before getting ready for this trip down south to meet my mom, I spent the whole week doing interviews for my research. One of the courses I am doing here in Morocco for my GLT (Global Learning Term) is a community-based research project. My topic is "The Role of Religion (Islam) in the Lives of Young People in Tangier". Within the last week, I did 12 interviews, each lasting between 40 minutes and over an hour. It was exhausting to say the least, but definitely one of the highlights of my time in Morocco. In order to prepare for my project, I made a weekend getaway to Al-Akhawayn University in beautiful Ifrane. It was now my third or fourth time to Akhawayn and every time I go, I love it more and more. Besides getting to spend a few moments with my friends like Taha, Zouhair, Youssef and Laila (who were all in midterms), I spent the majority of my time hiding away in the Mohammad VI Library. It is absolutely beautiful and has one of the largest collections of English resources in all of Africa (I think second only to one or two in South Africa). For nearly two days straight, I sat at the same desk with a pile of books that towered over my laptop. Reading, skimming, writing, reading, skimming, writing, reading, skimming, and writing. Despite the mundaneness (yes, it's a word, I looked it up) of the work, it really paid off. My tower of books provided a framework for the direction my research would take, what questions I would ask, and how I might be able to make sense of the data after I finished the interviews and field-research. I came back to Tangier refreshed, partly because of a short break from my internship and partly from the crisp mountain air. In the days and weeks that followed my trip in Ifrane, I worked on constructing a fluid interview guide and questions, while simultaneously setting up interviews, getting project proposals and questions translated into French and Arabic, and scheduling times/interviews when I would need a translator to help conduct the interviews. It was enough to give me a headache... and it did. Three days in a row my head was spinning, and hurting. But overall, I feel that the interviews thus far have gone really well. I have learned so much about Islam and what it means to practice (or not practice) the great world religion that claims between 1 and 1.5 billion followers. When I am finished, I would love to share with you some of the things I found interesting and surprising. Although my research is limited to Tangier, simply because I don't have the time or resources or scholarly support to study this topic throughout all of Morocco, I have engaged in very penetrating conversations with my friends in other parts of Morocco like Casablanca and Marrakech. Based on what I have found to be very intriguing in my interviews I held in Tangier, sometimes I will pose one or two of the same questions to those I'm with in Casablanca or Marrakech. It's amazing how just one question usually sparks into a wildfire of dialogue and debate. Topics such as the hijab or "equal opportunities and legal protections between men and women" are always hot topics, providing sometimes hours of discourse and entertainment (maybe just entertainment for me).

Through both my studies/research and experience in Morocco so far, I feel like I have somewhat of a better grasp of the culture and lifestyle. I have learned which questions to ask and their appropriate times. You don't just go up to people asking them why they wear the hijab or probe for personal questions about the religion they practice (I'm being vague here, because although Morocco is 98-99% Muslim, within that, there are endless combinations of adopted beliefs, practices that wouldn't be considered consistent with Islam, attempts to practice a pure form of Islam, and traditions that have been passed from generation to generation. I say "religion they practice" - instead of "Islam" - because each person I've talked to said they practice religion, but sometimes it looks more like a particular worldview or philosophy than it does Islam). Some people don't mind the questions and others do. Like everything else, it's all about timing. In a situation where the person doesn't know me very well, they might perceive me as someone who is ignorant about their religion and trying to dispute their beliefs. Although I may disagree with some of the beliefs and doctrines in Islam, from the standpoint of an outsider (American, non-Muslim, non-Moroccan) student researcher on these topics I can stand at a distance and observe (and learn). In most cases, the conversation turns a bit tense and if there is more than one person, people's different viewpoints sometimes conflict. I love these conversations. Many people however, try to avoid such conflicts as they cause friction. What is so beautiful about this though, is the friction itself. In order to move, to change or to progress, friction is needed. Without friction we remain in the same place, unaffected by the world around us. Friction causes movement and growth. Without it, we would be grown adults on the outside, but like little ignorant kids on the inside. (I don't mean to talk bad about kids... there's something beautiful about who they are and what they stand for. But there is a time to be young, ignorant and innocent, as well as a time to be grown, mature, and aware. The only way to reach that stage is when we are challenged, tested, and stretched.) If it weren't for people to challenge my beliefs, worldviews, or the deconstruction such aspects in my life, then I would be the same now as I was in fifth grade. No offense Mr. Verga (my fifth grade teacher), but I am where I am today because of the 'friction' moments in my life that cause me to excel, change and learn. Not everyone enjoys these friction moments. Most of the time, it's when someone brings up one of the three off-limits topics at the dinner table; politics, religion, or money. But my friend Alex says, "If you don't talk about money, politics or religion, then what are you going to talk about?" Certainly we can talk about the weather or some other neutral topics, but such conversations don't really do much to challenge us, teach us, stretch us, or require us to think. Therefore, I prefer the friction, the dispute and the differences in opinions, especially when in the right timing and environment.

With that said, I have really enjoyed these talks while in Morocco. However, my study of Moroccan culture and somewhat fundamental understanding of Islam (I've really just scratched the surface) has shed light on the complexities of these two intersecting matters. The longer I am here, the more complex everything becomes. Things just aren't black and white. I don't know why I expected them to be, but maybe just based off of my first few months here, things seemed a bit more simple and easy to understand. Now however, I feel like I'm a bit more lost than when I arrived. Sure, I can explain why some things are and how life in Morocco is, but there are somethings I just don't understand. A somewhat comical incident happened the other evening as I was walking back home. Sitting on a small wall was a young couple, totally making out (for the non-native English speakers, "making out" means kissing... a lot). In America (or Europe) for example, this isn't that big of a deal. People kiss in public, PDA (public display of affection) is the norm. But for Morocco, you don't see this every day, or at all (at least among the locals). To make it more exciting (from a social-science nerdy perspective), the girl was wearing a hijab. The hijab is a scarf worn by a Muslim woman to cover her hair and it usually symbolizes a more strict/conservative form of religiosity. Seeing the girl in the hijab making out with her boyfriend (in public) was just about as paradoxical as it gets. Islam outlaws forms of pre-marrital relationships and kissing (not to mention doing it in public). When you see a girl in wearing a hijab making out with her boyfriend, you have to ask questions. Things that were once black and white instantly turn grey and complex. After telling this story to one of my friends in Casablanca, she replied by saying, "I have about 10 or 15 friends who wear the scarf, but only 2 that wear the hijab." She went on to explain, "The hijab is a way of life, not just an article of clothing [like the scarf]." I really liked that. It's not about what we wear or how we dress, but the lifestyle we choose to live. (A side note- I don't however, think women should dress inappropriately ('less-is-better' mentality) and justify it by their "modest" lifestyle. You get what I mean?) Another funny snapshot into the complexities of Moroccan life happened the other weekend when I was working at the Tanjalatina Music Festival (Latin Music Festival of Tanger). In general, there were very few women wearing the hijab at the music festival. But one of the women I saw wearing the hijab was older and had on more makeup than most of the young girls there wearing mini skirts. I thought, "That's ironic" and didn't think anything else about it until later that night when I saw her with her husband who was drinking a beer. Alcohol is strictly prohibited in Islam and to see this was somewhat comical. I almost started laughing when I spotted them. On the left, the veiled woman represents strict adherence to religion (minus the overdose of makeup) and the man on the right is drinking a Corona, something that completely goes against what his wife is symbolizing. I'm left with more questions and my only response is "C'est l'Maroc" ("This is Morocco").

Apart from having trouble understanding and attempting to explain culture and experience, the past month has provided more than enough frustrating moments in terms of language. I don't mean to be overly negative, but I have to be honest; this whole language thing is really frustrating sometimes (ok... pretty much always). I've come a long way since I arrived in June, but I've still got a LONG way to go. I dont know if it's because it's Arabic, or because I'm slow at learning languages, or because I'm an American, or because I've only been here a few months, or all of the above. Regardless, I still have no small feat ahead of me. I studied Modern Standard Arabic (FusHa) and am living in a country where that language isn't even spoken. An older friend of mine who's lived in Morocco for 20 years, has a Ph.D in Arabic studies, and speaks perfect Arabic (Moroccan and Classical) said that learning Arabic was like learning all of the romance languages at the same time. French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian all came from Latin. In the same way, Moroccans have their dialect, Egyptians theirs, as well as Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, the Gulf, Iraq, and Libya. However, unlike Latin where it split into different dialects (which then became official languages), all of these countries' dialects are all still considered Arabic because of the sacredness of the Qur'an. The Qur'an acts as the glue which holds the Arabic language together as one, despite its difference in dialects throughout the Arab world. The Qur'an also maintains the standard for Arabic. As languages change, Arabic relatively stays the same because of the immutability of the Qur'an. So, I studied a bit of the pure Arabic, but I'm living in a context in which the language has been changed, progressed, and mixed with other cultural and linguistic elements. If you're confused, don't worry- I'm still trying to figure it al out too. The bottom line is that some days (most days) are extremely frustrating. The other week I reached a breaking point. I wrote in my journal, "Language sucks. It is really a curse and a whole world is closed when you don't know the language. I just stood and watched a 30 minute conversation with a guy from France and a few Moroccans. I could only understand about 5 or 10% (mostly from body language, tone, all the non-verbals, and a few words in English). They talked about Islam, culture, media, religion, and change (of course... right up my alley). Not being able to be part of the discussion is not only frustrating, but also discouraging. Without French (in the case of this conversation), I can't participate, understand, challenge, or give my point of view. I can't be a part of the discussion, but instead just a spectator. How am I supposed to add to the discussion, listen, learn, or convey truths or principals that I know or have learned without speaking the language? It's very discouraging and the more than ever, I want to learn French (as well as Arabic and just about every other major language in the world). Without competency of language in the specific context, learning ceases to happen and I can't convey ideas, beliefs, or challenges." The 'friction' that I mentioned earlier cannot happen. It's not a fun place to be. My high school Spanish teacher (McCluskey- an amazing woman) told me, "When you learn a language, a whole world opens up." This couldn't be more true. Without it, there is a whole world out there that I don't have access to or am able to participate in. I just want to get to the end, where I can speak and understand and read and write perfectly, but I know - like most things in life - it's about the journey... not the finish line. Without the journey, it is pointless. Without the journey, I would miss out on so much along the way. I have to remember that these days and moments of frustrating are hopefully not only building character, but also language skills and competencies that I will have for the rest of my life.

So, a blog entry that I started as being a short one turned out (once again) to be quite long. It's late and I must get some sleep. As much as I would love to tell you everything I learned about the drug situation and drug cartels (fortunately non-violent cartels.. unlike the Mexican/Colombian ones) in Northern Morocco, which is the world's largest exporter of Hashish/Marijuana (I don't even know the difference), or my quick getaway to Ceuta (the Spanish enclave on Moroccan soil), or the smiles from my beggar friends Ibrahim and Rachid that always brighten my day, or the things I continue to do wrong according to Moroccan culture, or the unfortunate reality of the association I was interning with and the kids there, I am going to have to save if for another time. Maybe you have to call me up when I get back for a cup of mint tea or a california burrito (or if you're in Morocco, we better grab shawarma or some avocado juice sometime before December 12... my last day in this amazing country). Either way, I look forward to sharing these rich experiences in person with you all. Until next time... Salaama Aleikum ("Peace be with you")