It's been a week since Ramadan ended. Last monday, the entire country joined the 1.3 billion Muslims worldwide in celebrating the Eid. Eid ul-Fitr is the holiday that marks the end of Ramadan. The word "Fitr" comes from the Arabic word meaning "to break fast", quite an appropriate name given, as the highlight of the day is eating breakfast together as a family for the first time in a month. In Morocco, it is not only a national and religious holiday, but a social one too. Believers wake up early to be at the mosque at 8am for a special prayer and khutba, or sermon. As most everyone goes to bed late during Ramadan, this isn't the easiest task. Waking up on Monday at 8am was like waking up for the first day of school after a long summer break. To make matters worse, I didn't sleep until 6am the "night" before. With a combination of finishing up some writing, having taken a nap earlier in the afternoon, the first call for prayer and Haitam's brother snoring, I finally got to sleep, ironically, after the sun came up and only to be woken up two hours later. Knowing that I went to bed later than some people go to bed in California and only getting two hours of sleep, I felt like I just walked off the plane from America. I felt sick to my stomach, my head was pounding and nothing seemed like a reality. I gave myself jet-lag without even traveling!
While Haitam and his family were at the 8 o'clock service at the Mosque, I listened to the chants and prayers and then looked outside the window as everyone left the mosque (the Mosque is next door to the house). In Morocco during the Eid, everyone wears their djellabas. A djellaba is Morocco's traditional dress for both men and women (though the womens' djellabas are much more colorful than the mens). It was a wonderful sight last Monday morning. Men and women were dressed up in their best djellabas and greeting everyone as they walked by... but more on the greetings in a sec. It is tradition for the family to eat breakfast together and then go and visit friends and family. After breakfast, Haitam and I went, in our djellabas of course, to visit Taha. Driving to Taha's house, we passed through town, which was completely empty and as we passed the "Lazywall" (a place in town where Moroccans sit, lazily, and brainstorm idea on how to cross the Straight of Gibraltar and get to Spain) and caught a glimpse of southern Spain from across the Straight of Gibraltar. It was by far the most beautiful day of the year. The deep blue cloudless sky was almost as impressive as the Straight, which had not a single trace of wind on it. Tangier is definitely one of the windiest cities I have ever been to, so to see the Mediterranean as flat as a lake was nothing less than phenomenal.
After visiting with Taha, drinking a few cups of tea, and stuffing ourselves with more pastries, the three of us took off to go visit some other friends. We stopped at Amin's apartment and stood on the street talking for about an hour. As the four of us were standing on the street and talking during that time, random guys would come up to us and say "salaam aleikum... eid moubarak" and shake all of our hands. Moroccans love to greet, but during the Eid, it makes every other day seem like Moroccans are afraid to touch. It reminded me of Christmas day in America, when no matter who you walk by you give them a "Merry Christmas". However here, it was a handshake, hug, and maybe a kiss on the cheeks. My favorite though was a guy driving down the street when he passed a friend, or aquiantance. He stopped the car (in the middle of the road mind you), got out and embraced his friend. Cars started piling up behind him and waited patiently for him to get back in the car. Any other day, cars would have been honking non-stop until the guy got back in the car. But because of the Eid, patience prevailed and time was stopped to greet friends and foreigners alike.
Now that Ramadan is over, I'm not only enjoying being able to eat, drink, and go to cafes during the day, but also getting to sleep a little bit earlier. Going to bed at 11 is now considered early whereas during Ramadan, eating dinner at 1 or 2am was normal.
I have recently started my internship, one of the requirements for my Global Learning Term (GLT) here in Morocco. I am interning at an organization called Darna, a center for poor women and children, many of whom come from the streets. It is located just outside the medina on top of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. Not a bad location for a non-profit organization! :) There are about 100 kids that come to Darna to receive education and have the opportunity to learn several skills (such as cooking, sewing, farming/agriculture, art, etc.) so that by the time they are 18 they can hopefully enter the workforce. Many of these kids have even tried crossing the Mediterranean to get to Spain by makeshift rafts or by sneaking onto or under a semi-truck that crosses the Straight on ferry. Just the other night, I went for a run down by the port and I saw kids jumping on the semi trucks as they were entering the port, hoping to pass through customs without getting caught. I've seen people run underneath the semi truck as its stopped at a light in town and crawl up under the wheels, hoping they won't get caught at the port and will make it across to Spain. As I mentioned in my last blog, Tangier has one of the highest concentrations of Moroccans and Sub-Saharan Africans who risk their lives to emigrate to the EU. Unfortunately, or fortunately (they are still alive), many of the kids of have tried this end up at Darna.
Despite the disorganization I've experienced so far, the kids have really been a delight. This morning as I went to Darna, I was met at the gate by a little boy who stood there with both arms stretch up to my neck. I leaned down and he wrapped his grimy hands around my neck and gave me a kiss on both cheeks. Just when I was worried about figuring out what I was going to do for the kids today and how I was going to hopefully teach them something, I'm reminded that these kids just want to be touched and loved. Like last week, the kids won't stop touching me (maybe part of the reason why I came down with a cold over weekend). The rambunctious little ones will jump on me from all sides. The older ones aren't as straight forward as the younger ones but will always put their arm around my shoulder (when standing) or on my leg or knee when sitting. This is obviously a bit uncomfortable, as something like this wouldn't necessarily happen between two straight guys in America. Of course, this is just a cultural norm of Morocco that I've come to accept and try to be comfortable with as well as a reminder that these kids are starving for attention. I used this quote in last week's blog about my new friend Ibrahim, and I think it's fitting for the kids at Darna too. Henri Nouwen, a Dutch priest/pastor for a mentally handicapped community in Canada/author, describes this hunger that he witnessed among the kids during a visit to an orphanage in poverty-stricken Bolivia, "The children were so starved for affection that they fought with each other for the privilege of touching me. How little do we really know the power of physical touch. These boys and girls only wanted one thing: to be touched, hugged, stroked, and caressed. Probably most adults have the same needs but no longer have the innocence and unself-consciousness to express them. Sometimes I see humanity as a sea of people starving for affection, tenderness, care, love, acceptance, forgiveness, and gentleness" (Gracias! pg. 44).
I sat in on a class to observe how the instructor teaches the class and interacts with the students. He was teaching a "life skills" class to some of the older students who will be out in the "real world" in a few years. He said, "assume you have 100 Dirhams (about US$13), what are you going to do with that in order to make money and survive? Suppose you have 200 Dirhams, what then are you going to do?" Everyone went around and answered. Each student gave a creative idea about how he would spend the money in hopes of bringing in a return. On student said that he would be a bunch of CDs for really cheap, then turn around and sell them for more. A girl said that she would buy the ingredients to make shabakia (Moroccan pastry) and sell that. I realized that I was in a room full of potential business men and women, who given the opportunity and resources, would go to desperate measures to make a few dirhams to survive. It was humbling to know that not only were these things seen as hobbies for me or extra change (I'm sure I could buy a bunch of CDs online and come to Morocco and sell them.... but I would never look to that for my main source of income) but that opportunities for these young Moroccans are few and minimal. When I convert 200 dirhams into my currency, it's not much. While I'm thinking about investing with thousands of dollars, these guys are working with $10 or $20. There was another volunteer in the classroom from Spain and when the teacher presented this project to the class, the Spaniard said, "Con solo 20 Euros, estoy muerto. No puedo hacer nada en mi pais" ("With only 20 Euros, I'm dead. I can't do anything en my country (with 20 Euros)"). Some may say, "It's all relative". Maybe it is, but I still cant imagine even trying to get my in Morocco with a few hundred D's.
There is a place in Tangier that I absolutely love. Every time I go, I am reminded why I have fallen in love with Tangier. Just about every day, I make the trek down the hill from Haitam's house and then back up the step hill towards the kasbah (fortress) on the outskirts of the medina. Depending on how much time I have, I usually sit on the edge of the cliff overlooking the water for a few minutes or a few hours. The view is absolutely amazing and the ocean breeze is refreshing, though usually a bit strong. The view from the top of the cliff looks straight out across the Straight of Gibraltar, the mouth of the Mediterranean. Anything that enters the Mediterranean (with exception to those entering through the Suez canal in Egypt) enters here between this little 15 mile space of water between two continents... Morocco and Africa on the south... Spain and Europe on the North. Some days are easier than others. Some days I recall the snapshots I have of when I sailed through this same straight 19 months ago on The Scholar Ship. Other days, my heart becomes burdened with overflowing thoughts and questions about the world we live in. This little straight of water separates the "haves" from the "have-nots". If you're born on the south side of this sliver of water, your life is drastically different than if you were born on the north side of it. One side has tons of money, priviledge, and power, and the other not so much. One side has total access to travel to, to visit, to work in, and to potentially exploit the other, while the other side is trapped in a world of poverty, oppression, injustice, disadvantage and disease, unable to step foot on the other. Days like these make it hard to fathom why being born on one side of the water dramatically affects every aspect of your life. This little 15 mile space has claimed the lives of thousands of Africans (statistically speaking, 3 documented deaths for every 2 days during the last 15 years) who have drowned or been shot by government authorities. Some describe it as the Mediterranean's "Floating Cemetery". Looking out over this beautiful place, I try not to remove myself too far from the bloody water that tells stories of all the men, women, and children it has claimed.
I realize that I'm ending mid-thought. I apologize if it causes the same unease in you as it does in me. I did not write this with the intention of making people feel guilty or restless, but I cannot go any further or come to any conclusion. I tried continuing to write but to no avail. Each sentence begun and thought pondered was left unfinished. I am left with questions and a heavy soul. I have questions, but I'm not necessarily looking for answers. My soul is restless with thoughts, ideas, burdens, and mixed feelings, looking for an outsource. There are somethings in life that we just don't know and no matter how hard we try to understand or fix them, we are left discouraged and still questioning. Maybe this is one of those things, maybe not. Regardless, I am left with a simple, yet profound prayer; "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."
Showing posts with label Tangier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tangier. Show all posts
Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Ramadan Reflections and Ibrahim's Smile
I realize that when I don't write often, I'm left with an abundance of words. I apologize for the length of this entry, but I encourage you to read the whole thing if you have time. I hope you enjoy my Ramadan reflections and writing about the past few weeks....
Ramadan is now officially over. Last night at this time, I also thought Ramadan was over. Everyone was talking about how the Eid (holiday) was going to be today but due to a moonless sky, Ramadan went on for another day. The Islamic year is based on the lunar calendar, something I am not used to growing up in the US. Each year, every Eid and the month of Ramadan take place 15 or 16 days before it did the last year. In some countries, Ramadan may start or end a day earlier or later than another country... it all depends on the moon. Assuming that yesterday was last day of Ramadan, when people found out that it was one more day of fasting, I felt a sense of burden among the people. To make things worse, today is a Sunday and therefore, most everything is already closed. The last day of fasting became a day of rest, sleeping in, and naps for many Moroccans. Its amazing to think about how the lives of 35 million Moroccans and 1.3 billion Muslims around the world are at the will, so to speak, of the moon. This has made me realize two things. The first is that Ramadan has really showed me the freedom we have in Christ. Jesus invites us to live an abundant life with the freedom to love and be perfect. It may be an impossible task, but it is the goal; to "be perfect, for the Lord your God is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). This does not take place one month of the year, but every day that our heart beats. It is a freedom not to indulge in a selfish life for oursevles, but instead to "serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13). On the flip side, I think there is something to learn about being at the will of the moon. Like my attitude yesterday, too often we are concerned about tomorrow. I had my heart set on Ramadan being over, not because fasting is so difficult, but because I was so excited about the Eid (Eid Al Fitr is the holiday at the end of Ramadan... consists of eating breakfast (the real thing, not the one at sunset) with your family, the first time in a month, and then visiting friends and family for the reminder of the day while wearing Morocco's traditional dress, a djellaba) and to move on with life. I'm ready to get on with the next thing, but with the prolonging of Ramadan, I'm reminded to focus on today. And let me tell you, today has been a great day (more on that below)! If we are satisfied with today and not preoccupied with the worries of tomorrow, we can enjoy life. This is the day that the Lord has made, so rejoice and be glad in it (Psalm 118:24) for tomorrow has enough worries of its own (Matthew 6:24). When we live at the will of the moon (aka, God, the creator of the heavens and the earth), we cannot control the future, but are instead forced to live in the present. What a beautiful and calming lesson that can be learned from this. Let us focus our eyes on today instead of tomorrow so that we may see the beautiful things, both big and small, that God has given us.
Besides learning how to live at the will of the moon, I have learned a few other things during this Ramadan. A month ago, I started fasting and fasted the whole month, except for the four days I spent in The Netherlands and the one day I was sick here in Tangier. If I was following the pure form of Muslim fasting as discussed in the Qur'an than I have nothing to worry about. In Islam, exceptions to fasting are made for those who are on a journey (my trip to Holland) or who are ill (like I was a week ago) as well as those who are pregnant, children, and a few other exceptions. However, these days must be made up later in the year. If someone breaks the fast before the call for prayer at sunset and he/see does not fall under any of these categories of exception, the punishment is quite heavy. For every day one breaks the fast early (intentionally), their punishment includes the following choices: freeing a slave (a bit more difficult to do now than back in the 7th century), fasting for two months (this also means that if you break the fast 2 days you can add 4 months to your fasting, including having to finish Ramadan), or feeding 60 poor people (not giving them money, but feeding them, with the same amount of food you would eat... in other words, you can't just buy 60 McDonald's burgers or loaves of bread and pass them out to 60 beggars). I'm not a Muslim, but if I was, I don't know what I would choose. The truth is that even today, there are hundreds of thousands of slaves around the world today, ranging from child labor slaves to sex slaves. As much as I would love to free a slave, there are two factors I need to consider. First is the fact that I don't know of any slaves. I don't know where I could begin to look for them... maybe visiting a brothel in Thailand frequented by American, Canadian, European, Russian, Saudi Arabian, or Australian men men on "Sex Tours" (yes, as disgusting as this is it's the truth... such "tours" can even be arranged in Los Angeles) or a cocoa farm in West Africa run by a large multi-national corporation that exploits their workers so that the privileged in the global north can indulge in chocolate, unaware of the tired perhaps bloody hands that picked it under the extreme conditions of climate and abuse. The second aspect worth considering is being able to recognize and tend to the psychological effects of being released from slavery. I read an article a few years back about the psychological repercussions that freed slaves suffer from after being "released". Though physically released, every other aspect of their being remains in bondage to their master and the once-slave-now-free person often seeks to return to their previous lifestyle. I'm not saying that slaves should remain slaves, but a freed slave needs serious psychotherapy, otherwise they are worse off than they were before. (I cannot remember the exact title of the article, but if you are interested, please contact me. I have the article back in the US and I could pass it along when I get back) So maybe then I would fast for two months or feed 60 poor people. Fasting for two months seems a bit selfish, so I might as well spend the energy doing something that is beneficial to others, not just focus on myself for two months. Then again, I've cooked for 10 or 15 people and that was a lot of work. 60? I'd definitely need some lessons in the kitchen from some of the Moroccan women, who cook for 20-30 people like it's just another night with the family.
Ramadan has definitely been a time of reflection, not just fasting. Actually, when I look back on Ramadan, fasting remains in the background. The focus of every day seems to be the f'tour (feasting). "F'tour" literally means "breakfast" since it is the first meal eaten. At the Maghreb (sunset), the call for prayer is proclaimed from loudspeakers on every minaret in the city. When Ramadan began a month ago, the maghreb was around 7:30pm and with the days getting shorter, the maghreb tonight was at 6:28pm. The later in the month it gets, the less time it is to fast. In The Netherlands though, the maghreb wasn't until 9pm when I was there... making Ramadan much more difficult for the thousands of Muslims living there and in northern Europe. Forbidden during (the day) Ramadan are eating, drinking, smoking, lying, sexual activities, fighting, lust, alcohol, etc. but once the sun sets, the fasting is over. Things like eating and drinking (and smoking for some) are now permissible. I'm having trouble understanding how other things people fast from, like lusting, bad language, or lying are OK to do at night, but not during the day, or even after Ramadan for that matter. I know that no one can be perfect, but if Ramadan is supposed to be a month of fasting from the things of this world that bring us further away from God, it seems that it would be missing the point for people to carry on staring at girls the wrong way or taking part in indecent behavior just because the sun went down and the rules don't apply as strictly anymore. I'm reminded of the brilliant, and sometimes humbling words "It is not what goes into a man's mouth that makes him 'unclean,' but what comes out of his mouth that makes him clean, for the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart" (Matthew 15:11,18). The broader picture of this is that the life we produce through words, actions, and attitudes, come from the heart. This is of unparalleled significance to the things that we put in our body. If for example I fast (during the day) for a month straight and eat only kosher food (at night), it is unrivaled to my actions, attitudes, and words, which originate from the heart. If by night my heart is full of hate and lust, what good is fasting during the day? I don't mean to sound harsh or sound as if I'm making sweeping statements about Moroccans. Alternately, I'm thinking out loud, as these are some of the thoughts I've been wrestling with the past couple weeks. These words to not convey direct experiences but instead express personal reflections regarding fasting. It's not so much about the details of the law as it is the heart of the law. Furthermore, I'm seeking to understand the Muslim context in which I am living in while keeping Jesus' words fresh and alive in my life.
Anyways, back to the food! F'tour, or breakfast, is taken at the maghreb. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to take f'tour with at least 15 different people/families and locations. I broke the fast with wealthy families and a huge feast throughout many parts of Morocco, with younger Moroccans fresh out of college and making the transition into the adult/working life in Casablanca (the biggest city... a city of opportunities), with my host family in Fez, with a poor family in Azrou, in a restaurant in the college town of Ifrane, at a bible study with Al-Akhawayn University international students and faculty, on an airplane just before take off (nearly everyone on the plane was Moroccan and at sunset, people all of a sudden broke out meals they prepared and packed in tupper-wear containers and shared with everyone.... I brought a bag of dates to share with others... I'm quickly learning that in Morocco "what's mine is yours"... sharing is a part of the everyday life), and with friends, old and new, in several different homes here in Tangier. Typically, 30 minutes before the maghreb (and sometimes up to 45 minutes or an hour), families start gathering around the table as it is being set. The empty dinner tables quickly become filled with harira (soup), shabakia (sweet pastry-like thing with honey), dates, baklava, a plethora of sweet Moroccan pastries, milk, and juice. Then, everyone sits around the table and waits for the call. At the sound of "Allah Akbar..." ("God the Greatest...") everyone digs in. Once again, this idea that life revolves around the moon, or in this case, the call for prayer is so foreign to me. At that call, life changes. Drinks are sipped, food is eaten, and cigarettes are lit. Words cannot express what it is like to live by the authority of a call for prayer. I had trouble with that throughout the month. Some days I wanted to fast longer and other days I just wanted pray or go spend the meal with someone on the streets. The first few days, I was so thirsty that I skipped the food and went straight for the juice and the water. One thing I miss is saying a prayer of thanksgiving before eating, especially during such an important meal. Part of fasting is the aspect of remembering the poor and knowing what it may be like to be poor and hungry, but this is soon forgotten when there is a feast in front of your eyes and everyone starts devouring their food. Throughout the month, I tried to remember to spend time giving thanks to God for the food. For me, beginning a meal, in this case f'tour, should be marked with thanksgiving and not just hearing the call for prayer at the maghreb.
The f'tour meal lasts anywhere between 20 minutes and 2 hours. It is usually followed by tea and more pastries. One night in Tangier, I was invited for f'tour with Haitam (who I'm staying with), his dad, and his brothers. (Haitam's mom has been in Saudi Arabia for the last month for the "O'mara", not to be confused with the Hajj. Since she is gone all month, the boys (including the father) are left to eat f'tour at other peoples' homes or downstairs with Haitam's aunt because most men do not cook in Morocco). Not only did this one f'tour meal last 2 hours, but two rounds of two different tea were served, followed by a huge "dinner" (as if we weren't already full). Four hours later, we were done eating! This isn't anything out of the norm for Morocco, especially during Ramadan. I had trouble adjusting to eating absolutely nothing during the day and then feasting (literally) once the sun went down. I'm still having trouble trying to swallow (excuse the pun) this idea of "fasting". Personally, I think fasting should be the giving up of a meal, or two or three or four...etc. Instead, the month of Ramadan is fasting in the day and feasting at night. The meals that would be eaten during the day are pushed back until after sunset. This calls for a very late night. Dinner time is usually around 12 midnight or 1am. However, one night Haitam and I played a futsal match with some friends from 12:30-1:30am. Any excersize/activity during the day is difficult, especially when you can't drink water. So the only time to play soccer is at night, several hours after people spend f'tour with their families and friends. We got home after 2am, showered, and ate around 3am. This is the life of Ramadan in Morocco. Now that Ramadan is over, I'm looking forward to going to bed before 2am, morning runs and staying hydrated throughout the day. And the food... not as big of a deal as long as I eat once or twice. Not eating during the day even saved me a bit of money and we know that's always a plus! :)
Tonight, I just got back from a huge dinner. I had f'tour here with Haitam's family (minus his mom who is in Saudi Arabia for another week) and then we were invited to a friend's house for dinner. There were about 10 of us in total, all crowded around a 5 foot table. For dinner, an entire goat was served on a huge platter that just about took up the whole table. It's not very Moroccan to use cutlery, so we all dug in with our hands. I felt pretty barbaric sitting at the table with 10 other men eating a roasted goat with our hands. I've had goat quite a bit in parts of Africa and even India but this one took away the gold medal! After stuffing myself with a kilo worth of meat, a large assortment of fruit was served. Just when I thought I couldn't put anything else down my throat, we all shared an icecream cake from one of my favorite cafe's in Tangier. What a meal! This definitely makes the Top 10 list of meals I've had in Morocco.
Although the meal was definitely nothing short of a highlight to my day, the main highlight happened earlier this afternoon. Two blocks from Haitam's house, on the way to the main street, is a wall that attracts a handful of beggars. Most of the beggars here are regulars that I walk by every day. Some of them are blind, others missing a limb (others two, three, or all limbs), and there are sometimes women and children. My heart breaks every time I walk by them. I pass by them daily, sometimes several times in one day. Besides not being able to speak enough Arabic with them, I'm left with limited options. (1) I can smile at them, hoping that it might brighten their day just a little bit. On the other hand, I have to wonder what it must be like for them to see me walk by and smile like everything is OK and life is wonderful. I usually take the risk and give a little smile. (2) I can give them some money. The problem with this is twofold: I have a limited amount of money because i have no income and secondly, if i give to one, i should probably give to all. Since I see them every day, when do i give them money? I can't do it every day, otherwise i might run out of money and be stuck in Morocco. Hey, maybe that's a good idea! ;) (3) I can give them food. This too has been a problem. During Ramadan, finding food during the day is more difficult than one might imagine and eating in public is illegal. With the food option out of the question (until after tomorrow), I'm left with options 1 and 2.
So today I passed by a guy who I see just about every day. I smile at him and he gives me a warm smile back. More than anyone else, I feel drawn to this guy. His smile is impressive and it touches my spirit, walking by him several times a day as he sits in his wheel chair with only one leg and an outstretched arm. Unlike the other beggars, he does not say anything or try to get peoples attention. He just sits there waiting for someone to notice him and give a smile so he can give one in return. I can tell he is African, so I assumed that he knew a little English. Today as I was walked back to the house, I was praying for him, praying that he would be there and I could get to talk to him for a bit. Sure enough, as I turned the corner, I laid eyes on him. I greeted him and Arabic and shook his hand. I made sure to shake his hand and put my arm on his shoulder like most Moroccans do when they greet each other. The power of touch is something that most people take for granted as part of their everyday life. When you live on the streets and live off of the change that people give to you, you are nothing more than an outcast, an untouchable. Humans need physical touch to survive and remain healthy, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally (there have been studies on it). Henri Nouwen, a Dutch priest/pastor for a mentally handicapped community in Canada/author, describes his day at an orphanage in poverty-stricken Bolivia, "The children were so starved for affection that they fought with each other for the privilege of touching me. How little do we really know the power of physical touch. These boys and girls only wanted one thing: to be touched, hugged, stroked, and caressed. Probably most adults have the same needs but no longer have the innocence and unself-consciousness to express them. Sometimes I see humanity as a sea of people starving for affection, tenderness, care, love, acceptance, forgiveness, and gentleness" (Gracias! pg. 44). With an exchange of handshakes and greetings in Arabic, I asked him if he spoke English. Being from Senegal he spoke mostly French, but could understand most of my English. I sat with him and talked for a few minutes. A man, whom I didn't notice, was listening to us talk. He was Moroccan and offered to translate for me, just to make sure my new friend Ibrahim knew what I was saying. When you step out of the status quo, people not only notice but are drawn to do the same. With a little act of love, walls come quickly down and all of a sudden a Muslim Moroccan, a Senegali immigrant, and a Christian from America are quickly joined together. What a beautiful sight. So I told Ibrahim that because I live just down the street, I will see him every day and I won't be the stranger who just walks by with a smile. Although I gave him some money, I told him that whatever he needs to let me know. I may not have tons of money to offer him, but what I do have is love and touch.
I tell you this story for a few reasons. I do not want to build myself to be a righteous do-gooder or anything like that... I am neither of those. I wanted to tell you about my new friend, a man who's smile is not only contagious but humbling at the same time. When you sit in the same spot every day with a humble outstretch hand and with one less leg than everyone who walks by, grateful for the smallest coin to drop from someone's hand and you can still put a smile on your face... that is powerful! I don't know Ibrahim's story, but that my next reason for writing this. Morocco attracts a lot of immigrants from Sub-Saharan Africa. Located only 15 kilometers across the Straight of Gibraltar from Spain (the EU), Tangier is the destination for thousands who flee their home country in hopes to pursue a better life in Europe. Although Europe is the goal, most do not get there. Some stay in Morocco, finding life in Morocco better than their war-torn and impoverished homelands. Others, who remain set on their original goal, attempt to cross the Mediterranean in makeshift boats. If they are not caught by official patrol or guard boats, they often capsize and drown. The narrow, but deadly, straight has claimed countless lives of those who tried to cross, as it did this weekend (see attached link to article: http://english.aljazeera.net/news/africa/2009/09/200991919917332747.html). The ugly truth is that people leave their dire situations to search for a better life, a life where they can live in peace and dignity, without the threat or fear that terrorizes them daily. Some have fled civil wars and others manage to escape grinding poverty. Despite your political views on immigration, these are people in desperate need of love... a love that comes from the God of peace, not in the unfulfilled dreams and policies of politicians and world leaders. The Bible speaks repeatedly about caring for the stranger and the alien. Even if you don't follow the Bible, I think the least we can do as decent human beings is to stretch out a caring hand to these poor and oppressed people. If we can attempt to put ourselves in their shoes, then we can begin to understand what life is like for so many people in this world.
I don't know Ibrahim's story. I don't know how he lost his leg. I don't know if he's attempted the most frightening and treacherous task of crossing the Mediterranean in a makeshift raft with the hope of starting a new life in Europe, or if he's lost family or friends in the process of doing so. I do know that he deserves the loving touch of a friend and a few bucks at the very least. I ask that you will be praying for Ibrahim. Though you don't know him, please pray for his life as a foreigner, an alien, an amputee, a beggar, and a beloved child of God. Pray that through his little bit of English and my little bit of French and Arabic that we will be able to communicate with eachother. More importantly, I would encourage you (I want to command you but that might just be too overbearing... so I challenge you) to love. Jesus says that of course we can love our friends, anyone can do that. But can we love those we don't like? our enemies? the marginalized? In America, there are plenty of marginalized people groups. Illegal immigrants may be a drain on the education system, but that's no excuse not to love them, to treat them with dignity and respect, to reach out a caring and helping hand, to invite them into our homes or out for a meal, or to put ourselves in their shoes and imagine what a day in the life of an immigrant might be like. May we learn from Ibrahim's smile to be grateful of all things even though all around us looks so much better. May we learn from and love the meek.
Ramadan is now officially over. Last night at this time, I also thought Ramadan was over. Everyone was talking about how the Eid (holiday) was going to be today but due to a moonless sky, Ramadan went on for another day. The Islamic year is based on the lunar calendar, something I am not used to growing up in the US. Each year, every Eid and the month of Ramadan take place 15 or 16 days before it did the last year. In some countries, Ramadan may start or end a day earlier or later than another country... it all depends on the moon. Assuming that yesterday was last day of Ramadan, when people found out that it was one more day of fasting, I felt a sense of burden among the people. To make things worse, today is a Sunday and therefore, most everything is already closed. The last day of fasting became a day of rest, sleeping in, and naps for many Moroccans. Its amazing to think about how the lives of 35 million Moroccans and 1.3 billion Muslims around the world are at the will, so to speak, of the moon. This has made me realize two things. The first is that Ramadan has really showed me the freedom we have in Christ. Jesus invites us to live an abundant life with the freedom to love and be perfect. It may be an impossible task, but it is the goal; to "be perfect, for the Lord your God is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). This does not take place one month of the year, but every day that our heart beats. It is a freedom not to indulge in a selfish life for oursevles, but instead to "serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13). On the flip side, I think there is something to learn about being at the will of the moon. Like my attitude yesterday, too often we are concerned about tomorrow. I had my heart set on Ramadan being over, not because fasting is so difficult, but because I was so excited about the Eid (Eid Al Fitr is the holiday at the end of Ramadan... consists of eating breakfast (the real thing, not the one at sunset) with your family, the first time in a month, and then visiting friends and family for the reminder of the day while wearing Morocco's traditional dress, a djellaba) and to move on with life. I'm ready to get on with the next thing, but with the prolonging of Ramadan, I'm reminded to focus on today. And let me tell you, today has been a great day (more on that below)! If we are satisfied with today and not preoccupied with the worries of tomorrow, we can enjoy life. This is the day that the Lord has made, so rejoice and be glad in it (Psalm 118:24) for tomorrow has enough worries of its own (Matthew 6:24). When we live at the will of the moon (aka, God, the creator of the heavens and the earth), we cannot control the future, but are instead forced to live in the present. What a beautiful and calming lesson that can be learned from this. Let us focus our eyes on today instead of tomorrow so that we may see the beautiful things, both big and small, that God has given us.
Besides learning how to live at the will of the moon, I have learned a few other things during this Ramadan. A month ago, I started fasting and fasted the whole month, except for the four days I spent in The Netherlands and the one day I was sick here in Tangier. If I was following the pure form of Muslim fasting as discussed in the Qur'an than I have nothing to worry about. In Islam, exceptions to fasting are made for those who are on a journey (my trip to Holland) or who are ill (like I was a week ago) as well as those who are pregnant, children, and a few other exceptions. However, these days must be made up later in the year. If someone breaks the fast before the call for prayer at sunset and he/see does not fall under any of these categories of exception, the punishment is quite heavy. For every day one breaks the fast early (intentionally), their punishment includes the following choices: freeing a slave (a bit more difficult to do now than back in the 7th century), fasting for two months (this also means that if you break the fast 2 days you can add 4 months to your fasting, including having to finish Ramadan), or feeding 60 poor people (not giving them money, but feeding them, with the same amount of food you would eat... in other words, you can't just buy 60 McDonald's burgers or loaves of bread and pass them out to 60 beggars). I'm not a Muslim, but if I was, I don't know what I would choose. The truth is that even today, there are hundreds of thousands of slaves around the world today, ranging from child labor slaves to sex slaves. As much as I would love to free a slave, there are two factors I need to consider. First is the fact that I don't know of any slaves. I don't know where I could begin to look for them... maybe visiting a brothel in Thailand frequented by American, Canadian, European, Russian, Saudi Arabian, or Australian men men on "Sex Tours" (yes, as disgusting as this is it's the truth... such "tours" can even be arranged in Los Angeles) or a cocoa farm in West Africa run by a large multi-national corporation that exploits their workers so that the privileged in the global north can indulge in chocolate, unaware of the tired perhaps bloody hands that picked it under the extreme conditions of climate and abuse. The second aspect worth considering is being able to recognize and tend to the psychological effects of being released from slavery. I read an article a few years back about the psychological repercussions that freed slaves suffer from after being "released". Though physically released, every other aspect of their being remains in bondage to their master and the once-slave-now-free person often seeks to return to their previous lifestyle. I'm not saying that slaves should remain slaves, but a freed slave needs serious psychotherapy, otherwise they are worse off than they were before. (I cannot remember the exact title of the article, but if you are interested, please contact me. I have the article back in the US and I could pass it along when I get back) So maybe then I would fast for two months or feed 60 poor people. Fasting for two months seems a bit selfish, so I might as well spend the energy doing something that is beneficial to others, not just focus on myself for two months. Then again, I've cooked for 10 or 15 people and that was a lot of work. 60? I'd definitely need some lessons in the kitchen from some of the Moroccan women, who cook for 20-30 people like it's just another night with the family.
Ramadan has definitely been a time of reflection, not just fasting. Actually, when I look back on Ramadan, fasting remains in the background. The focus of every day seems to be the f'tour (feasting). "F'tour" literally means "breakfast" since it is the first meal eaten. At the Maghreb (sunset), the call for prayer is proclaimed from loudspeakers on every minaret in the city. When Ramadan began a month ago, the maghreb was around 7:30pm and with the days getting shorter, the maghreb tonight was at 6:28pm. The later in the month it gets, the less time it is to fast. In The Netherlands though, the maghreb wasn't until 9pm when I was there... making Ramadan much more difficult for the thousands of Muslims living there and in northern Europe. Forbidden during (the day) Ramadan are eating, drinking, smoking, lying, sexual activities, fighting, lust, alcohol, etc. but once the sun sets, the fasting is over. Things like eating and drinking (and smoking for some) are now permissible. I'm having trouble understanding how other things people fast from, like lusting, bad language, or lying are OK to do at night, but not during the day, or even after Ramadan for that matter. I know that no one can be perfect, but if Ramadan is supposed to be a month of fasting from the things of this world that bring us further away from God, it seems that it would be missing the point for people to carry on staring at girls the wrong way or taking part in indecent behavior just because the sun went down and the rules don't apply as strictly anymore. I'm reminded of the brilliant, and sometimes humbling words "It is not what goes into a man's mouth that makes him 'unclean,' but what comes out of his mouth that makes him clean, for the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart" (Matthew 15:11,18). The broader picture of this is that the life we produce through words, actions, and attitudes, come from the heart. This is of unparalleled significance to the things that we put in our body. If for example I fast (during the day) for a month straight and eat only kosher food (at night), it is unrivaled to my actions, attitudes, and words, which originate from the heart. If by night my heart is full of hate and lust, what good is fasting during the day? I don't mean to sound harsh or sound as if I'm making sweeping statements about Moroccans. Alternately, I'm thinking out loud, as these are some of the thoughts I've been wrestling with the past couple weeks. These words to not convey direct experiences but instead express personal reflections regarding fasting. It's not so much about the details of the law as it is the heart of the law. Furthermore, I'm seeking to understand the Muslim context in which I am living in while keeping Jesus' words fresh and alive in my life.
Anyways, back to the food! F'tour, or breakfast, is taken at the maghreb. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to take f'tour with at least 15 different people/families and locations. I broke the fast with wealthy families and a huge feast throughout many parts of Morocco, with younger Moroccans fresh out of college and making the transition into the adult/working life in Casablanca (the biggest city... a city of opportunities), with my host family in Fez, with a poor family in Azrou, in a restaurant in the college town of Ifrane, at a bible study with Al-Akhawayn University international students and faculty, on an airplane just before take off (nearly everyone on the plane was Moroccan and at sunset, people all of a sudden broke out meals they prepared and packed in tupper-wear containers and shared with everyone.... I brought a bag of dates to share with others... I'm quickly learning that in Morocco "what's mine is yours"... sharing is a part of the everyday life), and with friends, old and new, in several different homes here in Tangier. Typically, 30 minutes before the maghreb (and sometimes up to 45 minutes or an hour), families start gathering around the table as it is being set. The empty dinner tables quickly become filled with harira (soup), shabakia (sweet pastry-like thing with honey), dates, baklava, a plethora of sweet Moroccan pastries, milk, and juice. Then, everyone sits around the table and waits for the call. At the sound of "Allah Akbar..." ("God the Greatest...") everyone digs in. Once again, this idea that life revolves around the moon, or in this case, the call for prayer is so foreign to me. At that call, life changes. Drinks are sipped, food is eaten, and cigarettes are lit. Words cannot express what it is like to live by the authority of a call for prayer. I had trouble with that throughout the month. Some days I wanted to fast longer and other days I just wanted pray or go spend the meal with someone on the streets. The first few days, I was so thirsty that I skipped the food and went straight for the juice and the water. One thing I miss is saying a prayer of thanksgiving before eating, especially during such an important meal. Part of fasting is the aspect of remembering the poor and knowing what it may be like to be poor and hungry, but this is soon forgotten when there is a feast in front of your eyes and everyone starts devouring their food. Throughout the month, I tried to remember to spend time giving thanks to God for the food. For me, beginning a meal, in this case f'tour, should be marked with thanksgiving and not just hearing the call for prayer at the maghreb.
The f'tour meal lasts anywhere between 20 minutes and 2 hours. It is usually followed by tea and more pastries. One night in Tangier, I was invited for f'tour with Haitam (who I'm staying with), his dad, and his brothers. (Haitam's mom has been in Saudi Arabia for the last month for the "O'mara", not to be confused with the Hajj. Since she is gone all month, the boys (including the father) are left to eat f'tour at other peoples' homes or downstairs with Haitam's aunt because most men do not cook in Morocco). Not only did this one f'tour meal last 2 hours, but two rounds of two different tea were served, followed by a huge "dinner" (as if we weren't already full). Four hours later, we were done eating! This isn't anything out of the norm for Morocco, especially during Ramadan. I had trouble adjusting to eating absolutely nothing during the day and then feasting (literally) once the sun went down. I'm still having trouble trying to swallow (excuse the pun) this idea of "fasting". Personally, I think fasting should be the giving up of a meal, or two or three or four...etc. Instead, the month of Ramadan is fasting in the day and feasting at night. The meals that would be eaten during the day are pushed back until after sunset. This calls for a very late night. Dinner time is usually around 12 midnight or 1am. However, one night Haitam and I played a futsal match with some friends from 12:30-1:30am. Any excersize/activity during the day is difficult, especially when you can't drink water. So the only time to play soccer is at night, several hours after people spend f'tour with their families and friends. We got home after 2am, showered, and ate around 3am. This is the life of Ramadan in Morocco. Now that Ramadan is over, I'm looking forward to going to bed before 2am, morning runs and staying hydrated throughout the day. And the food... not as big of a deal as long as I eat once or twice. Not eating during the day even saved me a bit of money and we know that's always a plus! :)
Tonight, I just got back from a huge dinner. I had f'tour here with Haitam's family (minus his mom who is in Saudi Arabia for another week) and then we were invited to a friend's house for dinner. There were about 10 of us in total, all crowded around a 5 foot table. For dinner, an entire goat was served on a huge platter that just about took up the whole table. It's not very Moroccan to use cutlery, so we all dug in with our hands. I felt pretty barbaric sitting at the table with 10 other men eating a roasted goat with our hands. I've had goat quite a bit in parts of Africa and even India but this one took away the gold medal! After stuffing myself with a kilo worth of meat, a large assortment of fruit was served. Just when I thought I couldn't put anything else down my throat, we all shared an icecream cake from one of my favorite cafe's in Tangier. What a meal! This definitely makes the Top 10 list of meals I've had in Morocco.
Although the meal was definitely nothing short of a highlight to my day, the main highlight happened earlier this afternoon. Two blocks from Haitam's house, on the way to the main street, is a wall that attracts a handful of beggars. Most of the beggars here are regulars that I walk by every day. Some of them are blind, others missing a limb (others two, three, or all limbs), and there are sometimes women and children. My heart breaks every time I walk by them. I pass by them daily, sometimes several times in one day. Besides not being able to speak enough Arabic with them, I'm left with limited options. (1) I can smile at them, hoping that it might brighten their day just a little bit. On the other hand, I have to wonder what it must be like for them to see me walk by and smile like everything is OK and life is wonderful. I usually take the risk and give a little smile. (2) I can give them some money. The problem with this is twofold: I have a limited amount of money because i have no income and secondly, if i give to one, i should probably give to all. Since I see them every day, when do i give them money? I can't do it every day, otherwise i might run out of money and be stuck in Morocco. Hey, maybe that's a good idea! ;) (3) I can give them food. This too has been a problem. During Ramadan, finding food during the day is more difficult than one might imagine and eating in public is illegal. With the food option out of the question (until after tomorrow), I'm left with options 1 and 2.
So today I passed by a guy who I see just about every day. I smile at him and he gives me a warm smile back. More than anyone else, I feel drawn to this guy. His smile is impressive and it touches my spirit, walking by him several times a day as he sits in his wheel chair with only one leg and an outstretched arm. Unlike the other beggars, he does not say anything or try to get peoples attention. He just sits there waiting for someone to notice him and give a smile so he can give one in return. I can tell he is African, so I assumed that he knew a little English. Today as I was walked back to the house, I was praying for him, praying that he would be there and I could get to talk to him for a bit. Sure enough, as I turned the corner, I laid eyes on him. I greeted him and Arabic and shook his hand. I made sure to shake his hand and put my arm on his shoulder like most Moroccans do when they greet each other. The power of touch is something that most people take for granted as part of their everyday life. When you live on the streets and live off of the change that people give to you, you are nothing more than an outcast, an untouchable. Humans need physical touch to survive and remain healthy, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally (there have been studies on it). Henri Nouwen, a Dutch priest/pastor for a mentally handicapped community in Canada/author, describes his day at an orphanage in poverty-stricken Bolivia, "The children were so starved for affection that they fought with each other for the privilege of touching me. How little do we really know the power of physical touch. These boys and girls only wanted one thing: to be touched, hugged, stroked, and caressed. Probably most adults have the same needs but no longer have the innocence and unself-consciousness to express them. Sometimes I see humanity as a sea of people starving for affection, tenderness, care, love, acceptance, forgiveness, and gentleness" (Gracias! pg. 44). With an exchange of handshakes and greetings in Arabic, I asked him if he spoke English. Being from Senegal he spoke mostly French, but could understand most of my English. I sat with him and talked for a few minutes. A man, whom I didn't notice, was listening to us talk. He was Moroccan and offered to translate for me, just to make sure my new friend Ibrahim knew what I was saying. When you step out of the status quo, people not only notice but are drawn to do the same. With a little act of love, walls come quickly down and all of a sudden a Muslim Moroccan, a Senegali immigrant, and a Christian from America are quickly joined together. What a beautiful sight. So I told Ibrahim that because I live just down the street, I will see him every day and I won't be the stranger who just walks by with a smile. Although I gave him some money, I told him that whatever he needs to let me know. I may not have tons of money to offer him, but what I do have is love and touch.
I tell you this story for a few reasons. I do not want to build myself to be a righteous do-gooder or anything like that... I am neither of those. I wanted to tell you about my new friend, a man who's smile is not only contagious but humbling at the same time. When you sit in the same spot every day with a humble outstretch hand and with one less leg than everyone who walks by, grateful for the smallest coin to drop from someone's hand and you can still put a smile on your face... that is powerful! I don't know Ibrahim's story, but that my next reason for writing this. Morocco attracts a lot of immigrants from Sub-Saharan Africa. Located only 15 kilometers across the Straight of Gibraltar from Spain (the EU), Tangier is the destination for thousands who flee their home country in hopes to pursue a better life in Europe. Although Europe is the goal, most do not get there. Some stay in Morocco, finding life in Morocco better than their war-torn and impoverished homelands. Others, who remain set on their original goal, attempt to cross the Mediterranean in makeshift boats. If they are not caught by official patrol or guard boats, they often capsize and drown. The narrow, but deadly, straight has claimed countless lives of those who tried to cross, as it did this weekend (see attached link to article: http://english.aljazeera.net/news/africa/2009/09/200991919917332747.html). The ugly truth is that people leave their dire situations to search for a better life, a life where they can live in peace and dignity, without the threat or fear that terrorizes them daily. Some have fled civil wars and others manage to escape grinding poverty. Despite your political views on immigration, these are people in desperate need of love... a love that comes from the God of peace, not in the unfulfilled dreams and policies of politicians and world leaders. The Bible speaks repeatedly about caring for the stranger and the alien. Even if you don't follow the Bible, I think the least we can do as decent human beings is to stretch out a caring hand to these poor and oppressed people. If we can attempt to put ourselves in their shoes, then we can begin to understand what life is like for so many people in this world.
I don't know Ibrahim's story. I don't know how he lost his leg. I don't know if he's attempted the most frightening and treacherous task of crossing the Mediterranean in a makeshift raft with the hope of starting a new life in Europe, or if he's lost family or friends in the process of doing so. I do know that he deserves the loving touch of a friend and a few bucks at the very least. I ask that you will be praying for Ibrahim. Though you don't know him, please pray for his life as a foreigner, an alien, an amputee, a beggar, and a beloved child of God. Pray that through his little bit of English and my little bit of French and Arabic that we will be able to communicate with eachother. More importantly, I would encourage you (I want to command you but that might just be too overbearing... so I challenge you) to love. Jesus says that of course we can love our friends, anyone can do that. But can we love those we don't like? our enemies? the marginalized? In America, there are plenty of marginalized people groups. Illegal immigrants may be a drain on the education system, but that's no excuse not to love them, to treat them with dignity and respect, to reach out a caring and helping hand, to invite them into our homes or out for a meal, or to put ourselves in their shoes and imagine what a day in the life of an immigrant might be like. May we learn from Ibrahim's smile to be grateful of all things even though all around us looks so much better. May we learn from and love the meek.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Ramadan Starts Tomorrow... I Think
I'm back in Tangier now, the place that I will call my home for the next 4 or 5 months. Coming back to Tangier after a grand tour of Morocco, I know why I chose to make this place my home. The sunsets themselves are hard to beat. The summer sun sets behind the city on the Atlantic coast illuminating the sky with beautiful oranges and reds (I've only seen more more orangey sunsets in Los Angeles, but I think that is more because of the man-made pollution and exhaust of the 10 million residents... not the master artist himself). The clouds have both an airbrush and blotchy effect, I thought only obtainable on a canvas painting with oil or acrylic. But then I realize, isn't the one who created all this a better artist than the one who paints colorful sunsets and cool cloud formations on a two-dimensional sheet of canvas? Of course there is more to Tangier than the sunsets, like the 24 hour/day ocean breeze or the choice to take a dip in the Atlantic or the Mediterranean. But I'm just a really big fan of the sunsets. And the people of Tangier... well... they are... OK... I guess. (sarcastic). I love Tangerines (not only the fruit, but the people too). But I'm not going to show favoritism to my friends from Tangier because someone from Casablanca, Marrakech, or Fez might be reading this and I like them too! Also, after reading A.J. Jacob's book "A Year of Living Biblically", I've been inspired to follow the bible as literal as possible (I'm nowhere close... but it's worth a shot). The Apostle Paul writes "God does not show favoritism" (Romans 2:11) and Jesus says "Be perfect, for God is perfect." (Matthew 5:48). Therefore, I figure that in order to be perfect (no simple task for a guy like me), I probably shouldn't show favoritism to the people of Tangier, despite my love for the city.
Anyways, I heard some good news last night. One of my friends spent the summer working for a producer here in Tangier and was able to work on a few film sets. Tangier has been frequented in several movies. It's a scenic city conveniently situated on the Straight of Gibralter, looking right at the Southern coast of Spain. Between the countless rooftop terraces and the cafe-lined streets facing Mediterranean, it's no wonder that it has shown up in so many films, including the most recent, Bourne Ultimatum, the last of the Bourne Trilogy, where Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is filmed jumping from rooftop to rooftop through the medina (great movie... highly recommended). My friend also told me that she saw Matt Damon a few years ago when he was here filming at the same cafe that I go to just about every day. I don't know why, but this makes me feel cool, or special, because I go to the same hip cafe that Matt Damon went to when he was here. But then Jesus' words cut deep, "For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matthew 23:12). This whole "be perfect" thing is a bit harder than expected. Maybe with a bit more time and practice, it might become a bit more feasible. OK.... so the good news. I guess Leonardo DiCaprio flew in yesterday and he's shooting a film in the Medina for the next ten days. I was tempted to go meet Mr. DiCaprio at the airport, but maybe I'll just camp out at the 5-star hotel he's staying at and hopefully get an autograph. As I'm writing this, I realize that I have no idea the purpose for telling you this. Unless of course you were wondering where the pop star was, or if celebrities ever come to Morocco, now you know. On to more relevant things...
Ramadan starts tomorrow... I think. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month of fasting (no food, water, smoking, sex, or fighting) from sun up till sun down and is required of all Muslims (with exception for those who are pregnant or have other health issues/restrictions... they have to make up the days of fasting later) as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is one of the most important times of the Muslim year, when adherents fast, remember those who are less fortunate, and spend lots of time with family (unless you are in your early 20's and you study away from home, like many of my friends). There has been so much anticipation leading up to Ramadan, especially on TV where they advertise these cheesy Saudi soap operas and "comedies" that are aired during the month (During Ramadan, people watch tons of TV... more about that later). For those who haven't had any experience with Ramadan in the Arab world, think of Easter weekend on steroids. On Easter, churches around America are packed and nearly everyone becomes a church goer that Sunday. Multiply that times thirty. Mosques (so I hear) are so packed that people can't even fit into the mosques and are praying outside on the surrounding streets and sidewalks. Restaurants close, except for those ones that stay open for tourists. It is serious stuff. If a Moroccan (Muslim) breaks the fast in daylight by taking a sip of water in public, he can be arrested. Can you imagine during Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter) if Police went up to people asking if they gave up (or fasted from) anything during the 40 days? If they answered "no" they would be arrested, but if they said "yes, chocolate" then they were safe from the Police (and God's wrath). When I think about people giving up chocolate for Lent, it makes me wonder if it's really worth it. Jesus fasted for 40 days... and we give up chocolate. I just don't think that's what Jesus had in mind. Maybe something more like food and water, as He did. Maybe then we'd know what it's like to be poor, without food, and the only thing in life we have to count on is God. But then I'm just being too idealist.
Back to Ramadan. You get the point... this is important stuff! It's on the top 5 (pillars) list of Islam for Heaven's sake. But, do we know when it's starting? Does anyone know when it's starting? Earlier this week, I was told that Ramadan would start on Thursday, or maybe Friday. Later in the week, I started hearing, "Friday... maybe Saturday". Even last night (Thursday) still no one was 100% sure, "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Saturday". "No. Saturday or Sunday" someone else said. I understand that it all depends on the moon, but with 1.3 billion Muslims anticipating this 30 day fast, it's hard to imagine that all 1.3 billion are sitting around wondering if it's going to be Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. So, assuming it starts tomorrow, today will be the last day I get to enjoy drinking water and eating (i'm not much of a smoker or a fighter, so those aren't too bad for me to give up and I'm not married, so I don't have to worry about the sex) during the day. I can understand why non-Muslims living in or visiting a Muslim country during Ramadan might not fast. But eating or drinking in public is just flat out inconsiderate (in my opinion). It is my goal to fast during Ramadan and if at any point I change my mind (not planning on it) or I need to eat or drink because of illness, I will still not do so in public, simply out of the respect to my Muslim brothers and sisters fasting around me. As I mentioned before, Ramadan is a time of sacrifice. When we give up the basic everyday norms, we not only rely on God's grace and mercy, but also humbled to think of those who are less fortunate than ourselves (the majority of the world). There is purpose in the month of Ramadan, not just several weeks of hollow actions and practices. Although he was talking about his experience with Judeo-Christian traditions, the words of A.J. Jacobs can be applied in this Muslim context as well, "I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in this world."
Unfortunately, there is a negative side to Ramadan that I feel necessary to share. Of course, there may be some Muslims who don't really follow Islam and therefore might eat and drink and smoke on their own during Ramadan. These may be called "Cultural Muslims", a term used by one of my Moroccan friends. He told me this term when describing the commonalities between Morocco and Mexico. Having spent a significant amount of time in Mexico, he was making a parallel between Catholic Mexicans and Muslim Moroccans. Statistically, they each represent almost 100% of their respective populations. However, there are some Catholics who are Catholic because they are Mexican and because almost everyone else (in Mexico) is, just as there are some Muslims who are Muslims simply because they are Moroccan. In both cases, they are more "cultural" than religious. Their life reflects a life that is more in line with the greater culture than that of a life of real and relevant faith. This isn't even the negative side that I'm talking about. I think this "cultural (fill in the blank here)" term is somewhat universal. It can be applied to Catholics, Christians, Muslims, Jews and probably Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Ok, maybe not atheists, but anyways... During the month of Ramadan, many Muslims, whether or not they fast or eat, can usually be found in front of the TV, watching cheesy Saudi Ramadan sitcom specials. I don't mean to say that you can't watch TV during Ramadan (who am I to judge?), but it seems like it takes away the purpose of this holy month, especially when watched 12 or 15 hours a day. A bit like giving up chocolate for Lent, maybe TV sitcoms aren't what God had in mind. Furthermore, most Muslims wake up before the first call for prayer (around 3:30 or 4am) to eat their last/first meal before the sun comes up, then go back to sleep for a few hours before starting the day. I have no objection to this. It's when people wake up at 3 or 4am to eat, then go back to sleep until 1 or 2pm. They wake up in the afternoon, go pray at the mosque, then come back for a late afternoon nap. Before you know it, the sun's down and it's time to eat again. What's the point of fasting when you spend most of your time awake feasting? Of course they "followed" the rules and restrictions of fasting from sun up until sun down, but was it really a sacrifice? Of course I could "follow" the rules by giving up eating chocolate or white bread for Lent, but is that getting at the heart of it? I have so much respect for those who, despite the side-effects of not eating or drinking, continue to work during Ramadan, who wake up before noon, and who fast without complaining. It's not about drawing attention to ourselves, but being humbled and sacrificing. I hope that after saying all this that I fall into the former category as one who sacrifices the things taken for granted every day to rely on God and to begin to understand what it might be like to be poor and hungry.
I don't mean to end on a negative note because this is not the heart of Ramadan. But I do feel like I would be unjust in saying that Ramadan is a super-holy month, its heart and purpose observed by ALL Muslims all across the world. That would just be like saying that ALL Christians give away half of their possessions to the poor, lend money to others without being expected to be paid back, invite strangers into their homes, when taken to court they offer the persecutor the clothes off their back, visit those in prison, or love their enemies and do good to those who hate them. Maybe one day...
Until then, reflect (and act) on Gandhi's probably-overstated, yet timelessly applicable words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."
(If you aren't challenged by these words, then maybe something is wrong... or I'm living in a different world than you and we need to talk)
Anyways, I heard some good news last night. One of my friends spent the summer working for a producer here in Tangier and was able to work on a few film sets. Tangier has been frequented in several movies. It's a scenic city conveniently situated on the Straight of Gibralter, looking right at the Southern coast of Spain. Between the countless rooftop terraces and the cafe-lined streets facing Mediterranean, it's no wonder that it has shown up in so many films, including the most recent, Bourne Ultimatum, the last of the Bourne Trilogy, where Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is filmed jumping from rooftop to rooftop through the medina (great movie... highly recommended). My friend also told me that she saw Matt Damon a few years ago when he was here filming at the same cafe that I go to just about every day. I don't know why, but this makes me feel cool, or special, because I go to the same hip cafe that Matt Damon went to when he was here. But then Jesus' words cut deep, "For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matthew 23:12). This whole "be perfect" thing is a bit harder than expected. Maybe with a bit more time and practice, it might become a bit more feasible. OK.... so the good news. I guess Leonardo DiCaprio flew in yesterday and he's shooting a film in the Medina for the next ten days. I was tempted to go meet Mr. DiCaprio at the airport, but maybe I'll just camp out at the 5-star hotel he's staying at and hopefully get an autograph. As I'm writing this, I realize that I have no idea the purpose for telling you this. Unless of course you were wondering where the pop star was, or if celebrities ever come to Morocco, now you know. On to more relevant things...
Ramadan starts tomorrow... I think. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month of fasting (no food, water, smoking, sex, or fighting) from sun up till sun down and is required of all Muslims (with exception for those who are pregnant or have other health issues/restrictions... they have to make up the days of fasting later) as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is one of the most important times of the Muslim year, when adherents fast, remember those who are less fortunate, and spend lots of time with family (unless you are in your early 20's and you study away from home, like many of my friends). There has been so much anticipation leading up to Ramadan, especially on TV where they advertise these cheesy Saudi soap operas and "comedies" that are aired during the month (During Ramadan, people watch tons of TV... more about that later). For those who haven't had any experience with Ramadan in the Arab world, think of Easter weekend on steroids. On Easter, churches around America are packed and nearly everyone becomes a church goer that Sunday. Multiply that times thirty. Mosques (so I hear) are so packed that people can't even fit into the mosques and are praying outside on the surrounding streets and sidewalks. Restaurants close, except for those ones that stay open for tourists. It is serious stuff. If a Moroccan (Muslim) breaks the fast in daylight by taking a sip of water in public, he can be arrested. Can you imagine during Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter) if Police went up to people asking if they gave up (or fasted from) anything during the 40 days? If they answered "no" they would be arrested, but if they said "yes, chocolate" then they were safe from the Police (and God's wrath). When I think about people giving up chocolate for Lent, it makes me wonder if it's really worth it. Jesus fasted for 40 days... and we give up chocolate. I just don't think that's what Jesus had in mind. Maybe something more like food and water, as He did. Maybe then we'd know what it's like to be poor, without food, and the only thing in life we have to count on is God. But then I'm just being too idealist.
Back to Ramadan. You get the point... this is important stuff! It's on the top 5 (pillars) list of Islam for Heaven's sake. But, do we know when it's starting? Does anyone know when it's starting? Earlier this week, I was told that Ramadan would start on Thursday, or maybe Friday. Later in the week, I started hearing, "Friday... maybe Saturday". Even last night (Thursday) still no one was 100% sure, "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Saturday". "No. Saturday or Sunday" someone else said. I understand that it all depends on the moon, but with 1.3 billion Muslims anticipating this 30 day fast, it's hard to imagine that all 1.3 billion are sitting around wondering if it's going to be Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. So, assuming it starts tomorrow, today will be the last day I get to enjoy drinking water and eating (i'm not much of a smoker or a fighter, so those aren't too bad for me to give up and I'm not married, so I don't have to worry about the sex) during the day. I can understand why non-Muslims living in or visiting a Muslim country during Ramadan might not fast. But eating or drinking in public is just flat out inconsiderate (in my opinion). It is my goal to fast during Ramadan and if at any point I change my mind (not planning on it) or I need to eat or drink because of illness, I will still not do so in public, simply out of the respect to my Muslim brothers and sisters fasting around me. As I mentioned before, Ramadan is a time of sacrifice. When we give up the basic everyday norms, we not only rely on God's grace and mercy, but also humbled to think of those who are less fortunate than ourselves (the majority of the world). There is purpose in the month of Ramadan, not just several weeks of hollow actions and practices. Although he was talking about his experience with Judeo-Christian traditions, the words of A.J. Jacobs can be applied in this Muslim context as well, "I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in this world."
Unfortunately, there is a negative side to Ramadan that I feel necessary to share. Of course, there may be some Muslims who don't really follow Islam and therefore might eat and drink and smoke on their own during Ramadan. These may be called "Cultural Muslims", a term used by one of my Moroccan friends. He told me this term when describing the commonalities between Morocco and Mexico. Having spent a significant amount of time in Mexico, he was making a parallel between Catholic Mexicans and Muslim Moroccans. Statistically, they each represent almost 100% of their respective populations. However, there are some Catholics who are Catholic because they are Mexican and because almost everyone else (in Mexico) is, just as there are some Muslims who are Muslims simply because they are Moroccan. In both cases, they are more "cultural" than religious. Their life reflects a life that is more in line with the greater culture than that of a life of real and relevant faith. This isn't even the negative side that I'm talking about. I think this "cultural (fill in the blank here)" term is somewhat universal. It can be applied to Catholics, Christians, Muslims, Jews and probably Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Ok, maybe not atheists, but anyways... During the month of Ramadan, many Muslims, whether or not they fast or eat, can usually be found in front of the TV, watching cheesy Saudi Ramadan sitcom specials. I don't mean to say that you can't watch TV during Ramadan (who am I to judge?), but it seems like it takes away the purpose of this holy month, especially when watched 12 or 15 hours a day. A bit like giving up chocolate for Lent, maybe TV sitcoms aren't what God had in mind. Furthermore, most Muslims wake up before the first call for prayer (around 3:30 or 4am) to eat their last/first meal before the sun comes up, then go back to sleep for a few hours before starting the day. I have no objection to this. It's when people wake up at 3 or 4am to eat, then go back to sleep until 1 or 2pm. They wake up in the afternoon, go pray at the mosque, then come back for a late afternoon nap. Before you know it, the sun's down and it's time to eat again. What's the point of fasting when you spend most of your time awake feasting? Of course they "followed" the rules and restrictions of fasting from sun up until sun down, but was it really a sacrifice? Of course I could "follow" the rules by giving up eating chocolate or white bread for Lent, but is that getting at the heart of it? I have so much respect for those who, despite the side-effects of not eating or drinking, continue to work during Ramadan, who wake up before noon, and who fast without complaining. It's not about drawing attention to ourselves, but being humbled and sacrificing. I hope that after saying all this that I fall into the former category as one who sacrifices the things taken for granted every day to rely on God and to begin to understand what it might be like to be poor and hungry.
I don't mean to end on a negative note because this is not the heart of Ramadan. But I do feel like I would be unjust in saying that Ramadan is a super-holy month, its heart and purpose observed by ALL Muslims all across the world. That would just be like saying that ALL Christians give away half of their possessions to the poor, lend money to others without being expected to be paid back, invite strangers into their homes, when taken to court they offer the persecutor the clothes off their back, visit those in prison, or love their enemies and do good to those who hate them. Maybe one day...
Until then, reflect (and act) on Gandhi's probably-overstated, yet timelessly applicable words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."
(If you aren't challenged by these words, then maybe something is wrong... or I'm living in a different world than you and we need to talk)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
4 Days, 2 Weddings
Yes, I know it's been a long time since I've written anything. These last few weeks can be best described as busy and hot. The long days of school, homework, studying, spending time with the family, and writing are starting to get the best of me. On top of the busy day-to-day life is the heat. For example, this morning it was 106 (41 Celsius) at 10am, and a high at midday was around 115 (45C). I'm hoping that it might cool down to 100 so that I can play soccer on Thursday without getting heat stoke.
My language learning continues to be challenging. I would love to say it has been rewarding since I've been here in Morocco, but unfortunately that is not the case. I am studying Modern Standard (or Classical) Arabic (FusHa) and Moroccans speak Moroccan Arabic (Darija). I wish I could say that Darija was just a close dialect of FusHa, but the more that I am here and the more I learn, I really believe they are two different languages. One of my Moroccan friends described Darija as "Arabic spoken with a really bad accent." On top of the difference in accents, many (or most) words in FusHa are not the same in Darija. It can be really frustrating when I learn a bunch of new verbs, nouns, and adjectives in the classroom, only to come home and not hear a single one spoken by my host family or on the streets. Of course, it was my choice to study FusHa over Darija and despite the frustration, I do not regret the decision. In other Arabic speaking countries such as Jordan, Lebanon, Egypt, or the Gulf, their dialects of Arabic are much closer to FusHa and someone speaking Darija will most likely not be understood by people in these countries. Therefore, I have to remember that it will pay off in the long run to have a strong foundation in FusHa instead of Darija.
Besides occupying my time with language study, I spent quite a bit of time at weddings last week. My host family was invited to a wedding last week in Meknes (about 45 min drive from Fes). Having heard so much about Moroccan weddings, I was thrilled at this special opportunity and even got myself a djellaba. Djellabas are long one-piece robes that usually have a hood. As the traditional dress of Morocco, I felt that it would be appropriate to wear a djellaba to the wedding. Mounia, her mom, her sister Sana, Sana's husband, their daughter Umeiema, and I drove to the wedding last wednesday. To my surprise, the wedding was quite boring. The six of us sat around and talked on the rooftop, where we waited until 11:30pm for the bride and groom to arrive at the house. Moroccan weddings differ between regions (even cities) and social classes. Umeiema, the 16 year old daughter of Sana, told me that weddings in Meknes were different than those of Fes, and I could tell in her tone that she had a strong preference towards weddings in Fes. Furthermore, this wedding was in a lower income neighborhood in Meknes and therefore, there were few people, little decorations, and the electricity continually shut off, sometimes for more than an hour. Once the bride and groom arrived, there was a bit of a celebration outside the house to welcome them in, but the party still did not meet my expectations. The highlight of the night was actually talking to the brother of the groom, Robin. The conversation began when I told him I was studying Arabic and having some difficulty with it. It wasn't like learning Spanish and even he agreed that Arabic was one of the hardest, if not the hardest, languages to learn. He spoke Arabic (Darija and FusHa), French, Spanish, English, and German fluently, and knew a bit of Italian. He asked if I was a Christian (I guess assuming that all people from America are Christians...?) and by answering yes, began a long discussion about the two faiths.
It was evident that Robin liked to talk... a lot! He was very outspoken and opinionated. He spoke English faster than I could and in my opinion, it was the most excitement going on at the wedding. Sana, Mounia, Umeiema, and grandma kept trying to get him to shut up (as not to bother me), but didn't mind. It was one of those situations where someone brings up one of the forbidden topics at the dinner table-- money, politics, or religion-- and everyone is uncomfortable except for the one or two engaged in the conversation. I guess that's how it was. He told me that he had read much of the Bible but expressed difficulty in understanding two things... 1). How Jesus could be the "Son" of God and 2). How Jesus could be God ("isn't he the son?") As you can imagine, this sparked some great conversation as we talked about God and language, especially in regards to the first concern. Language is an illustration of truth, it is not truth itself. Language is used to make a point, or illustrate a truth, but it is not perfect. In this case, there are a lot of connotations with language, especially with particular words, that can take away from truth. Jesus is the son of Mary. Both Robin and I agree on that. Jesus is the son of God. I stood alone on this claim. However, the word "son" in "son of God" is not the same "son" as "son of Mary". The problem is that Robin had trouble understanding this concept because to him, the definition of "son" is 100% objective and cannot be applied to the latter case ("son of God"). If "son" means a boy who is the product of a man having sex with a woman (you get the gist of the definition?), than the "son of God" means that God must have had sex with a woman to have Jesus. Many Christians would think that this is absurd because we have taken the term "son of God" for granted. However, it is critical that we look at the language used to illustrate truth. Can we really blame people for having difficult understand that Jesus was the "son" of God when we really dive into that? Also, it is worth mentioning the second concern about Jesus being God. Putting aside the "son of God" topic and discussing "Jesus as God" was also an issue incomprehensible. He expressed frustration and confusion in the idea of the Trinity, which was completely understandable. It wasn't the time to start explaining the trinity in the Cappadocian terms of God being one "ousia" (inner-being) and three "hypostases" (outer-being). Even this explanation can be problematic as it sounds as if there are separate parts of God, instead of these (3) hypostases and (1) ousia which are God. His simple metaphors of the trinity he shared with me such as, "someone can be a brother, a father, and a son all at the same time" didn't do it for him (neither does it do it for me), and all I could say was that God is bigger and beyond my ability to think or comprehend. The problem lies in the concept of trying to explain and describe an existence that is beyond ourselves. It is impossible and therefore unsatisfying to many people. The point of our conversation was not that he disproved Jesus as the "son of God" and I proved he was, or that he bashed the idea of a trinity while I argued for it, because neither of those happened. He questioned these things out of a desire to understand, not to talk me out of my faith in hopes that I would join his. It was a dialogue to critically look at the two faiths and make the most of this opportunity to interact and engage "the other" (me being a Christian and himself a Muslim). When talking about the purpose of man, he asked me, "what is the purpose of man? I answered, "To glorify God." He lit up and agreed, "Yes! To glorify God!" Despite the differences in the way we seek to glorify God with our lives, we can come together on that fundamental truth-- that our lives would earnestly seek to glorify our creator. And I cannot help but wonder, "what does this look like in the eyes of our creator?"
So, back to the wedding..... nothing too exciting happened besides some delicious food at 12:30am! Yup, dinner after midnight. I learned a few days later (at the other wedding I attended) that this was actually EARLY! After dinner, we decided to head back to Fes, as I has class the next morning and Mounia had to work. We said our goodbyes and headed to the car parked down the street. The time was just after 1am and there were kids playing a game of soccer in the street. There were about six kids, ages 6-12 (I assume) playing soccer in the street, being loud, getting in little quarrels, solving conflicts and disputes, and having a great time, all without a single parent in sight! It was amazing . The more I thought about it, the more I questioned the concept of safety. People ask me about safety in Morocco. This snapshot I have of kids playing soccer in the street in the middle of the night is so ironic because people are so scared of Morocco, or North Africa, or the Arab world, as if it were some evil place where violence and hatred is rampant. Yet, at 1am on a Wednesday night, the streets are still full of kids. Back in my upper-class suburban neighborhood in San Diego, there is not a single soul out at 1am (a little exageration), but there sure are not kids playing soccer by themselves (no parents around) in the streets!!! And even if kids wanted to go out and play soccer at 1am, I dont think that the parents would be too keen on the idea. Why? The first reason I guess would be "safety". "Its too late... It's not safe... There are a lot of dangerous people out this late" might be some of the responses from the concerned parents. The irony is that people assume "the other", or the unknown, (especially in the Arab world) is "not as safe as America" when in reality, that is far from the truth. With knowledge of, experience and interaction with "the other", we start to break down our stereotypes and misconceptions and begin to learn the reality of the world in which people really live. This is usually not a fun or easy process, but instead a painful paradigm shift that takes place within. I think Shakira's words, "I prefer an ugly truth to a beautiful lie" speak volumes. Although she was referencing the people of Colombia who live surrounded by a difficult reality, these words are relevant to those who are seeking truth. It is not always beautiful, but it is only truth that will set you free. Life is full of surprises and from my experience, it is the truths that are most difficult and shocking that are often the most important to accept.
Unfortunately, I am out of time to write about my wedding experience in Tangier (which was much more exciting than the one in Meknes, served dinner at 4am and went on until past 6am), meeting my good friend Taha at the airport in Tangier as he arrived back home after nearly 8 months overseas, and the other exciting things going on. I need to get back to my school work for APU (regarding Moroccan Family Organization) as well as a few Arabic assignments that need to be turned in tomorrow. I hope this update finds you well and may peace be upon you! Asalaama' Aleikum!
Ryan
My language learning continues to be challenging. I would love to say it has been rewarding since I've been here in Morocco, but unfortunately that is not the case. I am studying Modern Standard (or Classical) Arabic (FusHa) and Moroccans speak Moroccan Arabic (Darija). I wish I could say that Darija was just a close dialect of FusHa, but the more that I am here and the more I learn, I really believe they are two different languages. One of my Moroccan friends described Darija as "Arabic spoken with a really bad accent." On top of the difference in accents, many (or most) words in FusHa are not the same in Darija. It can be really frustrating when I learn a bunch of new verbs, nouns, and adjectives in the classroom, only to come home and not hear a single one spoken by my host family or on the streets. Of course, it was my choice to study FusHa over Darija and despite the frustration, I do not regret the decision. In other Arabic speaking countries such as Jordan, Lebanon, Egypt, or the Gulf, their dialects of Arabic are much closer to FusHa and someone speaking Darija will most likely not be understood by people in these countries. Therefore, I have to remember that it will pay off in the long run to have a strong foundation in FusHa instead of Darija.
Besides occupying my time with language study, I spent quite a bit of time at weddings last week. My host family was invited to a wedding last week in Meknes (about 45 min drive from Fes). Having heard so much about Moroccan weddings, I was thrilled at this special opportunity and even got myself a djellaba. Djellabas are long one-piece robes that usually have a hood. As the traditional dress of Morocco, I felt that it would be appropriate to wear a djellaba to the wedding. Mounia, her mom, her sister Sana, Sana's husband, their daughter Umeiema, and I drove to the wedding last wednesday. To my surprise, the wedding was quite boring. The six of us sat around and talked on the rooftop, where we waited until 11:30pm for the bride and groom to arrive at the house. Moroccan weddings differ between regions (even cities) and social classes. Umeiema, the 16 year old daughter of Sana, told me that weddings in Meknes were different than those of Fes, and I could tell in her tone that she had a strong preference towards weddings in Fes. Furthermore, this wedding was in a lower income neighborhood in Meknes and therefore, there were few people, little decorations, and the electricity continually shut off, sometimes for more than an hour. Once the bride and groom arrived, there was a bit of a celebration outside the house to welcome them in, but the party still did not meet my expectations. The highlight of the night was actually talking to the brother of the groom, Robin. The conversation began when I told him I was studying Arabic and having some difficulty with it. It wasn't like learning Spanish and even he agreed that Arabic was one of the hardest, if not the hardest, languages to learn. He spoke Arabic (Darija and FusHa), French, Spanish, English, and German fluently, and knew a bit of Italian. He asked if I was a Christian (I guess assuming that all people from America are Christians...?) and by answering yes, began a long discussion about the two faiths.
It was evident that Robin liked to talk... a lot! He was very outspoken and opinionated. He spoke English faster than I could and in my opinion, it was the most excitement going on at the wedding. Sana, Mounia, Umeiema, and grandma kept trying to get him to shut up (as not to bother me), but didn't mind. It was one of those situations where someone brings up one of the forbidden topics at the dinner table-- money, politics, or religion-- and everyone is uncomfortable except for the one or two engaged in the conversation. I guess that's how it was. He told me that he had read much of the Bible but expressed difficulty in understanding two things... 1). How Jesus could be the "Son" of God and 2). How Jesus could be God ("isn't he the son?") As you can imagine, this sparked some great conversation as we talked about God and language, especially in regards to the first concern. Language is an illustration of truth, it is not truth itself. Language is used to make a point, or illustrate a truth, but it is not perfect. In this case, there are a lot of connotations with language, especially with particular words, that can take away from truth. Jesus is the son of Mary. Both Robin and I agree on that. Jesus is the son of God. I stood alone on this claim. However, the word "son" in "son of God" is not the same "son" as "son of Mary". The problem is that Robin had trouble understanding this concept because to him, the definition of "son" is 100% objective and cannot be applied to the latter case ("son of God"). If "son" means a boy who is the product of a man having sex with a woman (you get the gist of the definition?), than the "son of God" means that God must have had sex with a woman to have Jesus. Many Christians would think that this is absurd because we have taken the term "son of God" for granted. However, it is critical that we look at the language used to illustrate truth. Can we really blame people for having difficult understand that Jesus was the "son" of God when we really dive into that? Also, it is worth mentioning the second concern about Jesus being God. Putting aside the "son of God" topic and discussing "Jesus as God" was also an issue incomprehensible. He expressed frustration and confusion in the idea of the Trinity, which was completely understandable. It wasn't the time to start explaining the trinity in the Cappadocian terms of God being one "ousia" (inner-being) and three "hypostases" (outer-being). Even this explanation can be problematic as it sounds as if there are separate parts of God, instead of these (3) hypostases and (1) ousia which are God. His simple metaphors of the trinity he shared with me such as, "someone can be a brother, a father, and a son all at the same time" didn't do it for him (neither does it do it for me), and all I could say was that God is bigger and beyond my ability to think or comprehend. The problem lies in the concept of trying to explain and describe an existence that is beyond ourselves. It is impossible and therefore unsatisfying to many people. The point of our conversation was not that he disproved Jesus as the "son of God" and I proved he was, or that he bashed the idea of a trinity while I argued for it, because neither of those happened. He questioned these things out of a desire to understand, not to talk me out of my faith in hopes that I would join his. It was a dialogue to critically look at the two faiths and make the most of this opportunity to interact and engage "the other" (me being a Christian and himself a Muslim). When talking about the purpose of man, he asked me, "what is the purpose of man? I answered, "To glorify God." He lit up and agreed, "Yes! To glorify God!" Despite the differences in the way we seek to glorify God with our lives, we can come together on that fundamental truth-- that our lives would earnestly seek to glorify our creator. And I cannot help but wonder, "what does this look like in the eyes of our creator?"
So, back to the wedding..... nothing too exciting happened besides some delicious food at 12:30am! Yup, dinner after midnight. I learned a few days later (at the other wedding I attended) that this was actually EARLY! After dinner, we decided to head back to Fes, as I has class the next morning and Mounia had to work. We said our goodbyes and headed to the car parked down the street. The time was just after 1am and there were kids playing a game of soccer in the street. There were about six kids, ages 6-12 (I assume) playing soccer in the street, being loud, getting in little quarrels, solving conflicts and disputes, and having a great time, all without a single parent in sight! It was amazing . The more I thought about it, the more I questioned the concept of safety. People ask me about safety in Morocco. This snapshot I have of kids playing soccer in the street in the middle of the night is so ironic because people are so scared of Morocco, or North Africa, or the Arab world, as if it were some evil place where violence and hatred is rampant. Yet, at 1am on a Wednesday night, the streets are still full of kids. Back in my upper-class suburban neighborhood in San Diego, there is not a single soul out at 1am (a little exageration), but there sure are not kids playing soccer by themselves (no parents around) in the streets!!! And even if kids wanted to go out and play soccer at 1am, I dont think that the parents would be too keen on the idea. Why? The first reason I guess would be "safety". "Its too late... It's not safe... There are a lot of dangerous people out this late" might be some of the responses from the concerned parents. The irony is that people assume "the other", or the unknown, (especially in the Arab world) is "not as safe as America" when in reality, that is far from the truth. With knowledge of, experience and interaction with "the other", we start to break down our stereotypes and misconceptions and begin to learn the reality of the world in which people really live. This is usually not a fun or easy process, but instead a painful paradigm shift that takes place within. I think Shakira's words, "I prefer an ugly truth to a beautiful lie" speak volumes. Although she was referencing the people of Colombia who live surrounded by a difficult reality, these words are relevant to those who are seeking truth. It is not always beautiful, but it is only truth that will set you free. Life is full of surprises and from my experience, it is the truths that are most difficult and shocking that are often the most important to accept.
Unfortunately, I am out of time to write about my wedding experience in Tangier (which was much more exciting than the one in Meknes, served dinner at 4am and went on until past 6am), meeting my good friend Taha at the airport in Tangier as he arrived back home after nearly 8 months overseas, and the other exciting things going on. I need to get back to my school work for APU (regarding Moroccan Family Organization) as well as a few Arabic assignments that need to be turned in tomorrow. I hope this update finds you well and may peace be upon you! Asalaama' Aleikum!
Ryan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
