Coming To A Close, Part I

I started this blog entry about three weeks ago, when I was procrastinating on my finals. Sadly, I couldn't even finish what I was using to procrastinate, so here is the first part of my two-part closing. 

Part One: The Contrast

I have mentioned before that things here are such a contradiction : pre-marital sex is harram, (forbidden), but harassment is an unfortunate national pastime. Drinking in public can get you arrested, but the smell of hash in the street is not uncommon. Perhaps the greatest contrast however, is the one between the home and the street. I will contrast these extremes with two stories:

A couple weeks ago, I went to Fez. As we arrived at the gate of the Old Medina we could hear a commotion going on in a nearby cafe. Upon investigating, we found two men beating each other into pulp. This was not a drunken scuffle at the club, but a drag-out brawl worthy of Fight Club. Tables and chairs were overturned, broken glass flew, and a large group of people formed a circle around them. However, no one stepped in to stop the fight until one man's head and neck were covered in blood. Now, I know these things happen in the US as well, and it is only my sheltered small-townness that allowed me to go twenty years without seeing a real fight. However the intensity of the violence, in such a public place, on a regular weekday afternoon, was quite a shock.

To compare..

Tuesday before we left Ifrane, we went to Azarou, a small town about fifteen minutes away. We walked, shopped, and drank orange juice. As we were about to leave, we heared someone call out “Hey, remember me?” We turned around to find the mountain guide that had taken us hiking four months ago. He somehow recognized us and invited us to his house for tea. We entered his tiny apartment and he and his friends treated us to fresh squeezed orange juice, tea, and popcorn, we sat and chatted about Morocco, Ifrane, and crazy American customs. I felt so welcome, so at home. The afternoon ended with a gift of a bag of tea and wishes for safe travels. I left with a big smile on my face, loving life and everyone in it.

The polar opposites here never cease to amaze me. Life here seems more precarious and in some ways more precious to those who value it. It is not numbed or sterilized by perfectly manicured lawns and rows of identical houses. Instead it is vibrant, full of beautiful color and offensive smells, drab shacks and warm houses. I've grown to both love the contradictions and yet still be offended by some of them.

There you have the contrast of Morocco, what I feel is essence of the country I have spent the last nine and a half months.

Part Two: The Change

I've realized the travel does not give you some amazing worldly superior to those that have never left their home. Photos of myself in random places does not make me a better person, nor does my ability to navigate a medina make me more kind, generous or loving. What it has given me in a new sense of identity: I've learned what it means to be me: what habits I am willing to give up, what values I refuse to let go of. 

In some ways, I am stronger in my convictions. Witnessing a world where women are treated without true justice, where the disabled are often reduced to begging, where there is no recycling.. Living in that type of place has impressed upon me the necessity FOR those things, impressed upon me the necessity of basic rights for all people who are born into this world. 

I have also witnessed good things I want to take back with me: the generosity of people. Giving to the poor is one of the five pillars of Islam, and many people extend that type of hospitality to all those they meet. The Moroccan ability with language also inspires me- they catch on so fast, it makes my fumbling Arabic seem quite silly. It inspires me to learn more and continue my studies. I also have a deeper understanding of the religion, and how perceiving other nations as too fundamentally different has caused so much unnecessary pain.

This place has changed me in little ways as well. It's going to take awhile to stop stocking up on rest-stop toilet paper and kissing cheeks as greeting. I will still love cumin on everything and can not wait to share Moroccan tea, Tagine, and Arabic music with my friends and family. 

I have a bit more to say on my leaving, but I will save Parts Three and Four, My Last Two Weeks and Saying Goodbye for tomorrow. Good Night. 

A Sneak Preview of My Last Two Weeks. More To Come.