a weekend in Rabat

When I found out that my Arabic class was scheduled Monday-Friday from 8:30 until 9:50, I was not enthused. Surprisingly, I have found it as more of a blessing than anything else. For one thing, having class at the same time everyday is a great way to implement a regiment. Also, it allows for a long weekend because getting up early on Friday and having the whole day, and then Saturday and Sunday at your exposure is so nice. These weekends feel so long but time is flying.

On Saturday, I went with my friends to a beach town about 30 minutes south of Rabat, called Bouznika. It is quaint, quiet and beautiful. The water is aquamarine, the sand is hot, and the villas are striking.

Bouznika

However, it is not yet beach season so we were about the only people on the sand. It felt surreal, but the tide was high and didn't give us much time to enjoy laying in the sun. We went to the main villa and walked around, but then left for the train station to go back to Rabat.

When we got back into the city, we (myself and 4 others), decided to head back to a friend's apartment. On our way, we started walking into a group of 30 or so boys, from the ages 7-18 or so, sprinting through the middle of the street, chanting and motioning something. That is not unusual, in fact, I've seen that a few times now. What was unusual was the larger, louder and older group of boys sprinting in tow, some carrying knives, and one boy carrying a machete. He grabbed hold of the collar of one boy's shirt and threw him to the ground. He kicked him relentlessly as boys whizzed by, some falling over each other, some just sprinting for their safety. As I stood on the sidewalk thinking I was about to see a young boy lose his life, I felt a sort of paralysis come over me. I don't think I was breathing. The bigger boy drew back his machete and swung down on the other boy's neck. By the grace of God, he must not have known how to use the knife or didn't know he was using the blunt side, and he merely slashed the boys neck. He looked terrified to be doing such a thing in public, and he sprinted away. The victim got up quickly, and for whatever reason, ran in the same direction as his attacker. This all happened in a mere 30 or 40 seconds so it was difficult to absorb. But all I know is that it was terrifying and I couldn't be more thankful that that boy's life was spared. I asked a few Moroccans about that kind of thing happening during the day in public, and they said it was most likely just youth activity gone wrong or poorly planned gang activity...but these boys were so young. This checked me right back into reality. 

l'Avenue Mohammed V

This morning, I woke up early to attend a non-denominational, international church just outside la centre ville. The majority of the congregants were sub-saharan Africans, ranging all the way from Namibia, Zambia, and Gabon. If there is one thing I have learned through my experiences attending church in Africa, there is nothing like worshipping with Africans. It feels so natural and alive. I really enjoyed myself, not necessarily the sermon though. I really don't like when sermons are laid out in black and white terms. It leaves me no room to interpret the message in a way that deepens my faith, I actually feel that it is restricted. 

When I got home, I played with Salma for a few hours. I can't begin to explain how much fun it is to live with a 10 month old baby. If you know me, you know that I am obsessed with babies...I feel a void when I don't play with a baby, or even a puppy, for long enough periods of time. So this is great for me. We get along like two peas in a pod.

This is a video!