A few days ago in the late evening, I was hanging my clothes on the line to dry when I heard the call to prayer. I've definitely spoken before about how much this sound is my favorite, but now having been in Morocco for almost two weeks, my exposure to it has really expanded. For example, I discovered that the call to prayer is broadcasted on television. Yesterday Khalid and I were watching a soccer match between the Czech Republic and the Netherlands (side-note, soccer is very serious in our house, Khalid always takes a side and sticks to it. also I've managed to impress my host-dad with my limited knowledge of soccer players, I will never forget the smile he flashed when I pointed out France's Benzema on the screen) and the match was interrupted for the prayer. Here it seems that faith comes in all forms and yet remains strong in all its diverse incarnations. The steadfastly pious live right alongside the casual devotee, a coexistence that can be found even within households. My host-father prays once a day during the evening, but nobody else in the family exhibits any religiosity. I find myself appreciating this coexistence at least once a day, wherever I am. For some, the day comes to a complete halt when it's time to pray, while for others, the call is simply part of the larger landscape.
It's interesting, because the constant yet still unintrusive existence of faith here has prompted my own examination of faith in my life, i.e. what kind of expression am I familiar with, the coexistence (or failed coexistence) of the enthusiastically religious and staunchly atheistic in my household, the reflections go on. I'm not sure what kinds of conclusions I'll come to concerning my own faith(s) at the end of this trip, but I'm exited, and slightly nervous, to see.
This week on Keeping up with Khouloud and Khalid, both children have started school. Khalid got a fancy new Ben 10 rolling backpack which he proudly rolled in demonstration for me across the family room. Mama Khadija has banned Uno to only weekends, as both kids have quite a bit of homework every night. In Morocco, students learn both FusHa (Modern Standard Arabic) and French in school. Khouloud has discovered the PhotoBooth on my computer and spends hours photographing herself - she has yet to find her best angle. I will miss them terribly when I'm in Tangier this weekend!
As this is the first real week of classes, we had our first actual assignment. We were given a list of NGOs operating in Rabat, focused in various areas such as health, human rights, women's rights, and development. Our task was to gather as much information about the organizations as possible, whether by looking them up online or actually visiting them.
It was quite enlightening to contextualize the work of NGOs in Morocco. We visited one organization and heard from classmates who spoke with others. The enlightenment lay in discovering which issues dominate the activist environment in the country. As an example, Morocco has received an influx of both documented and undocumented immigrants from sub-Saharan Africa. Some are en route to Europe and end up staying in Morocco while others select the country as their final destination. These people, in general, face a similar plight as immigrants everywhere - racism, low economic status, lack of advancement opportunity, and language issues. It would not be a stretch to say that there is most certainly a parallel between the United States' immigration problems and the ones seen here.
One activity we are set to try in the near future is bellydancing lessons! We found a gym within walking distance that has classes. We actually went to the gym today to start, but turns out we misunderstood the gym owner the first time (or he told us the wrong thing) and classes don't actually start until next week. So keep your eyes peeled for a post with a detailed review of the experience! But because bellydancing turned out to be a bust, we decided to instead use the time to go on a photo expedition down by a previously unexplored part of Rabat beach.
The part we went to is pretty popular with couples. Najwa told me that if a mother is frantically looking for her daughter who's been gone for a few hours, her best bet is that said daughter will be at this beach spot canoodling with her man. And with good reason. This part of the beach is not at all crowded and exudes a kind of unmanicured, raw beauty. It's spotted with tidepools and clusters of sharp rocks blanketed in algae. I most definitely had a moment perched on an outcropping of rock, watching the blazing Rabat sunset, realizing where I actually was. Everything around me was muted, blocked out. For a few precious seconds I couldn't here the eager shouts and comments from gross boys (aforementioned youths, "probably from Sale," says Najwa). Not the hushed conversations tucked into each others shoulders of nearby couples. Not the quick clicks of my friends' camera shutters. Not even the waves. Just me and the sun facing off.
Whenever I look at the stars, the moon, the sun, any cosmic entity, I'm filled with a gnawing sense of ennui that accompanies the realization that I'm really a minuscule speck in the grand symphony of the universe. But this time, at the beach when I stared down the sunset, I felt invigorated, not defeated. As if little by little, I, a truly unique speck, can move through the universe as I am now and fill myself with new experiences and the pulsing beauty of the world, interacting with other truly unique specks searching for the same thing.
Caitlin Moran put it better than I ever could:
"At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: 'The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.'
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare."
*final note, speaking of other specks, the photos below showcase some of my favorite people (not all). you could say they're my friends.
It's interesting, because the constant yet still unintrusive existence of faith here has prompted my own examination of faith in my life, i.e. what kind of expression am I familiar with, the coexistence (or failed coexistence) of the enthusiastically religious and staunchly atheistic in my household, the reflections go on. I'm not sure what kinds of conclusions I'll come to concerning my own faith(s) at the end of this trip, but I'm exited, and slightly nervous, to see.
This week on Keeping up with Khouloud and Khalid, both children have started school. Khalid got a fancy new Ben 10 rolling backpack which he proudly rolled in demonstration for me across the family room. Mama Khadija has banned Uno to only weekends, as both kids have quite a bit of homework every night. In Morocco, students learn both FusHa (Modern Standard Arabic) and French in school. Khouloud has discovered the PhotoBooth on my computer and spends hours photographing herself - she has yet to find her best angle. I will miss them terribly when I'm in Tangier this weekend!
As this is the first real week of classes, we had our first actual assignment. We were given a list of NGOs operating in Rabat, focused in various areas such as health, human rights, women's rights, and development. Our task was to gather as much information about the organizations as possible, whether by looking them up online or actually visiting them.
It was quite enlightening to contextualize the work of NGOs in Morocco. We visited one organization and heard from classmates who spoke with others. The enlightenment lay in discovering which issues dominate the activist environment in the country. As an example, Morocco has received an influx of both documented and undocumented immigrants from sub-Saharan Africa. Some are en route to Europe and end up staying in Morocco while others select the country as their final destination. These people, in general, face a similar plight as immigrants everywhere - racism, low economic status, lack of advancement opportunity, and language issues. It would not be a stretch to say that there is most certainly a parallel between the United States' immigration problems and the ones seen here.
One activity we are set to try in the near future is bellydancing lessons! We found a gym within walking distance that has classes. We actually went to the gym today to start, but turns out we misunderstood the gym owner the first time (or he told us the wrong thing) and classes don't actually start until next week. So keep your eyes peeled for a post with a detailed review of the experience! But because bellydancing turned out to be a bust, we decided to instead use the time to go on a photo expedition down by a previously unexplored part of Rabat beach.
The part we went to is pretty popular with couples. Najwa told me that if a mother is frantically looking for her daughter who's been gone for a few hours, her best bet is that said daughter will be at this beach spot canoodling with her man. And with good reason. This part of the beach is not at all crowded and exudes a kind of unmanicured, raw beauty. It's spotted with tidepools and clusters of sharp rocks blanketed in algae. I most definitely had a moment perched on an outcropping of rock, watching the blazing Rabat sunset, realizing where I actually was. Everything around me was muted, blocked out. For a few precious seconds I couldn't here the eager shouts and comments from gross boys (aforementioned youths, "probably from Sale," says Najwa). Not the hushed conversations tucked into each others shoulders of nearby couples. Not the quick clicks of my friends' camera shutters. Not even the waves. Just me and the sun facing off.
Whenever I look at the stars, the moon, the sun, any cosmic entity, I'm filled with a gnawing sense of ennui that accompanies the realization that I'm really a minuscule speck in the grand symphony of the universe. But this time, at the beach when I stared down the sunset, I felt invigorated, not defeated. As if little by little, I, a truly unique speck, can move through the universe as I am now and fill myself with new experiences and the pulsing beauty of the world, interacting with other truly unique specks searching for the same thing.
Caitlin Moran put it better than I ever could:
"At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: 'The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.'
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare."
*final note, speaking of other specks, the photos below showcase some of my favorite people (not all). you could say they're my friends.
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