Where do I even begin? It's been a month and SO much has happened - between a 2 week spring break, a weekend in Barcelona and my 1st real weekend back in Madrid, there is obviously too much to type. So! What I really want to share most with all of you is my trip to Morocco!
It was truly amazing and I am beyond happy that I made the decision to go. For a brief background: I went to Morocco for 4 days and 3 nights through a program called "Morocco Exchange" in which they focus on giving each of us a cross-cultural experience. This aspect of the program was amazing because we weren't treated like tourists, but rather students (there was 16 of us) traveling the world to explore and educate ourselves. I spent 2 nights sleeping in a Moroccan home with a host family, and the last night in a hostal. The program showed us city life in the capital, Rabat, and also rural life in a small village 3 hours inland. I can't describe enough how amazing it was to be with this program just in terms of how it was set up; traveling by car gave us an opportunity to really see some of the land and watch it change drastically.
Pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020098&id=1042110068&l=3c65134221
As most of you know I basically always have a journal with me and I think the best way to convey my thoughts about the trip is to just copy straight from my journal. This is rare, to open these pages publicly, but I do think it's the best and most raw way of sharing this experience with you. It is very long and personal, so please have patience and leave judgement at the door. Enjoy.
"The connection between the 16 of us truly amazed me; there was not one person I could not have sat and talked with for hours. 3 days we shared life, minute by minute, experience by experience - that little bus became our home as its wheels changed our lives right beneath us. I felt comfortable with them. I laughed and danced and sang and talked in my crazy voices, there was something they let me become, or remember. It felt so good to be surrounded by the feeling of comfortableness. to just, do, me.
The trip went so fast. I am sitting here not yet realizing I am back on Spanish ground and without them. I repeat, I am shocked it was simply 3 nights of their presences to this strongly feel their absence. There is something about being surrounded by those kinds of people, I see it in my head as a visual picture of slowly and slowly narrowing it down: you attend a university of 16,000 undergrads and as different as you all are, there is at least one thing inside us that said, "BU". Then you choose to study abroad, in which again you share a common ground in taking the stand to this opportunity - mentally, emotionally, physically, even if you weren't completely ready for it... And then now, from 16,000 to 83 to 16, 16 individuals find themselves sitting together in an African village, on a mountain top that we will probably never touch again, and there is something strong within each of us that we share.
The intellectual energy, drive and conversation that filled these last 3 days is overwhelming in the nice and refreshing way. Not a dull moment or stupid conversation - religion, the future, the world, gender equality, politics, values, purpose, materialism, opportunity, fortune, our pasts. We are so thirsty and exploding with questions, as someone once said to me when finding out I was studying abroad - "Grabbing life by it's horns." There was not one person in that group who had not thought of working in Peace Corp or something like it - we will all serve internationally to better this world, this I am sure of. As inspiring and wonderful it is to be surrounded by such intellectual and passionate light, it is a very bold and clear message sent to myself through the mirror - keep moving.
I have, over these past few years, become progressively immobile to the call for help, the call to educate, the call to act. There is so much information, so much to learn and do and I find myself utterly lost at how to prioritize in importance or even simply just start. Although I may not be running right now, being in this group and not shying away in fear and in pain to the overwhelming demand to move, is a step & I am beyond humbly and subtly content with this simple baby step. You have to learn to stand before you can walk and I am slowly strengthening my legs. And it won't be tomorrow or the next day where I will feel ready to jump into the abyss of chaotic construction, but knowing that I can hear it, see it, just look at it, is good enough for me, for now.
Allen (my tour guide) was so open, he shared so much with us. He truly impacted this trip in a way no other guide would have without his insight and history. I am quietly ashamed I did not know what Mali was before this trip, just another smack in the face that there is an endless amount of educating that needs to be done; He was a Peace Corp volunteer there when he was 17. The idea that a human mind had been trained so differently to not understand the concept of an airplane is ineffable. To have someone genuinely ask, "How do humans, so big, get into such small planes? Do they shrink?" To have never seen a landed plane - in any form, picture, media, papers, life - to physically not have the capactiy to understand a concept we as American Citizens would never in our lives contemplate is just unbelievable to me. And it is not because this man was stupid, he was simply never given the chance to learn otherwise. And we take education, even the most simple form, for granted.
Along with Allen's shared experiences and thoughts, the program in itself was unbelievable. Providing us was snacks and delicious meals, cultural Moroccan homes to sleep in, many educated and eager Moroccans to exchange questions and thoughts with. From the busy, urban, capital city life to the rural villages tucked into those crevices of the earth we'll never see, simply driving cross country and physically watching the conditions change. Taking us to the coast, inland, inside homes, hotels, tourist spots, markets, cafes, wilderness. Even just crossing the Moroccan border on foot was an experience in itself. I think that's what I loved most about this trip - it was real. No bullshit. As real as any foreigner can experience Moroccan life in 3 days, we dit it. They didn't baby us or cover our eyes, no sugar coating or regulations, we were there to learn, discover, expand, and this is what they provided. There was not 1 thing in the entire trip we could have done had we gone without this program and just as tourists.
When talking with Allen and the Moroccan Peace Corp and Fulbright volunteers, they made a comment that kind of just sunk in - the idea, and really the fact, that results aren't instantaneous. It takes years, and in Allen's case sometimes even 40, to see a positive result, a positive impact you've made. I have always known this to be true in some sense or another, but it really just reminded me to be patient. To realize I won't save the world - not alone nor in a small period of time. Salvation is progressive.
The friendliness in Morocco, openness and smiles surprised me. Although I suppose it shouldn't, because the more I travel the more I discover this about all places. But here specifically there was a connection between the women, a support system. I am all sorts of mixed feelings on their treatment and even more, their reaction to their treatment. I automatically look at the hijab as a symbol of religion, but equally so as a form of repression. Which, I know, is not fully correct especially because one of my best friends at BU wears one, I think, on my part, it's really just a lack of understanding in something I don't know if I ever will fully understand. What I think I am most torn about is if they have the freedom to not wear it, why do they continue? Better worded, I suppose I am wondering if this action is simply enabling the gender equality gap. I am very unsure on how to feel about this and know I am beyond uneducated enough to have any real opinion or stand point on it so if this has offended anyone, please forgive me, I am just sharing with you raw thoughts.
As the group all shared and said in our candle light reflection on our last night there, Morocco is one of the most modern and progressive African countries. I think part of me demands more. Faster, now. But touching back to patience, I think I need to realize that nothing as huge and heavy as transforming an entire country, continent, world, can happen over night. I need to look at our country's own history and remind myself it all takes time. Instead of asking for more, I should support their progression and look positively at their bright future.
Another striking characteristic of Morocco was their skill in language. Almost every single Moroccan we spoke with had never left the country and yet their english was amazing, accent and all. Allen did make the point that a lot of this can be due to the American television that is not dubbed over with a different language but rather is conveyed though subtitles, thus giving them the ear for English. But even more than English, they spoke Spanish, French, Classical Arabic. It all varied on strength, but coming from a country where saying the majority of our citizens are bilangual is pushing it, it was a big eye opener. There was an 11 year old boy who climbed up the mountain with us and talked to one of the guys in the group in a mix of French and Spanish and his ability to communicate with us was just incredible.
To reflect once more on the women and their network: the hamam (the turkish public bath) was truly an experience. It was just such an intense contrast to see these women on the streets, covered head to tow with clothing, talking with limitation, and then to see these same woman, completely naked and 100% comfortable, a time of freedom, escape. The adorable Morocaan woman who took us just smiled and waited outside and when I asked her how often she came she spoke of it with a smile that said relief ; her friends and her all have a time and place to meet up and go together once a week. Here, she said, is when they all get to talk, just let it out, talk about life, love, husbands, children, everything. It's their moment of uncensored expression, simply being a woman and excersicing this through unification and strength in numbers. I think of how often I need to just vent, let it out, and can not imagine a life of limitation to my voice. I am blessed with numerous shoulders to rest of, ears to listen, and use this circle to spread out my shared thoughts. To think of being given an alotted slot of time to let the mind and voice run free is frustrating. I think I need to work on this though because I suppose in general that is how life just is sometimes. Because although we are surrounded by others and we all have our reliable circle of friends and family, at the end of the day we are all alone in some sense or another.
A very prominent moment I had on this trip was while I was walking in a small African village to a home we were being welcomed into for lunch, tea and coversation. As we walked there, there were 2 women sitting on a step in front of the house making bread. They were dressed so simply, and you knew they had very few articles of clothing. As they quickly and genuienly offered us bread, which only God knows how much of a sacrifice that must have been, 2 younger women came hustling out into the doorway. They too were dressed simply, so bare and yet beautiful. I just stared at one of them for a moment, thinking of her beauty, her simple innocent smile that has seen more than we will ever be able to comprehend and yet was still filled with such warmth we rarely pass along, and thought to myself, "the world will never see this beauty. You will never see the world." I walked away choked up, with my Lucky Jeans and Aasics on. I was shamefully disgusted with our cultures intense and unnecessary consumption and materialism, which by no means am I saying that I myself do not partake in, I am aware I am part of this epidemic. That war in itself is a battle I have even within the States - feeling, looking, dressing, being sexy. The money that is tied to that facade along with the mentality of unnecessary need. I am always beyond humbled and ashamed in places like these, between Mexico and the Dominican Republic I have seen a small handful of similar lifestyles and the contrast is just so extreme.
To wrap it all up, along with this there was another thing that really hit home - the anxious, excited faces and hands as the children we passed waved. In all of our daily lives, no matter where we are, we pass hundreds and hundreds of individual, important and unique lives. Simply the cars sitting on the freeway together, the buildings we speed by, and we continue so swiftly but they remain still. As our American filled van curved along the mountain top, through fields of knee high crops, through markets and streets bustling with life, and we see faces, for literally a fraction of a second, faces we will never see again, a face that holds a story to each his own. What struck me most about this were the children's waving arms and peoples open smile. I never in my life have ran out of my house, up to the window, out of the store, to look upon passing visitors of my country. The fact they wave, as if we are celebrities, makes me wish I could somehow travel in a way I could not be seen, invisible. Although the root of all my travels is based in a desire to expand my knowledge and insight so in the future I am able to "pay it forward", I dislike the attention this form of education brings. I am not special because I am American, because I ride around in this out of place looking van, because I have shoes on my feet. And as I wave back, wide faced grin of appreciation for their unrelenting support, I plead to them with my eyes, asking them to see that there is equality amongst all humanity, a common ground. Like Allen said in the immigration line to restless citizens trying to cut first in line, like the hundreds of thousands have said in the past and will repeat and ring out long into the future -
"Somos equales."
We are all the same.
We are all equal.
xo,
apb
