tomorrow is just a day away

Fes

It feels like yesterday that I sat down on my white and yellow striped down comforter in my almost-unpleasantly yellow bedroom and began crafting my first blog post about my travel to Morocco. Now, I am here sitting on my green flowered bed just four days before I leave this place that I've learned to call home. There was a period of my stay here when I didn't recognize that time was finite. It seemed that I had endless days to say, "I'll take pictures of Rabat next week," or "I'll go to Sale with Naima next Thursday after class". That luxury is a thing of the past. I have spent time here doing things that I am proud of, things that I intended to do and things that I will remember forever; but I cannot say that I know where my last 112 (116 when I finally leave Morocco) days have gone.

see my street lights? well you can't see that they disappear
as the hill starts

I have adopted new measures of time that have become obvious to me after some reflection on how they affect me. First of all, when I got to Rabat I quickly began working out because of the unsettling amount of bread I eat here. My house is a 10 minute walk from a nice big hill that leads down to the beach where I run. I made an interval training routine out of the light-posts that line the hill; up the hill sprinting for the length of five light-posts, then jogging for three and power walking for one. And then construction started on the street and my light-posts were uprooted, one-by-one, until a day came when they existed no longer. At that point, I realized time was passing. My second measure of time is a plant that sits next to my spot at the dinner table. I hardly even recognized it when I first arrived in my home and timidly ate dinners with my family. But now, I can't eat dinner in peace because its grown so large that the large fronds poke at me and rest on my hair as I eat. It doesn't bother me, per se, but it bothers me that it could be moved just a few inches. Who knows if I'd recognize if time were passing if it weren't there? My last and most important measure of time is Salma. She was an infant when I arrived, hardly even a real person and so tiny and fragile that I was a little bit afraid of her (but so in love with her from the start). Now that her first birthday is approaching, it is just one day before I leave for my travels; I recognize how much she has grown since I first held her. She has long and thick hair, two bottom teeth and a top one that is poking through. She is big; I can tickle her and play with her without fear that she will crumble. More than the time it has taken to develop physical changes, she has developed a strong connection with me, one where she will sometimes choose me over her parents. I love her so much and it hurts my heart to know that I can't know her as she's growing up. Salma has shown me that my time here is almost through.

she's not an infant anymore...wearing
swishy pants and all

Needless to say, I have learned more than I ever imagined I could in four months here. These lessons were abstract; nothing I can write down on paper and say confidently whether it will help me on a test or a paper in the future, but lessons that I save in my mind that I hope will help shape who I am. First of all, I'd like to call out the media as a criminal. Criminal in so many ways. For one, the United States portrays itself poorly. I came here and so many Moroccans were under the impression that Americans college students are like the ones you see in Van Wilder. I had such a hard time explaining that was only a small portion of students and that some actually care. Also, other parts of the world aren't blind to the fact that our media shapes our views based only upon what we have available. They know that our media is trying to portray all types of Islam, not even just radical Islamists or terrorist groups, as the enemy, just as the United States did with the Soviet Union during the Cold War. It is propaganda and it takes a step outside the confines of the union to recognize that.

Chellah

Something amazing that I've found is that people in Morocco really do care about what is happening in the world and they know things that even the average American wouldn't. For example, after our brave President announced his support for gay marriage (I love you, Mr. President), Moroccans were eager to ask what I thought about it. In a country where homosexuality isn't even acknowledged, literally, people pretend it's not real, it was surprising to me that they even knew! Also, every Moroccan can tell you that Morocco was the first country to recognize the United States' legitimacy in 1777, but how many Americans can tell you that? We are so absorbed in a world that we've come to believe is superior than others that we don't know things that can bring us back down off of our cloud.

The Sahara

Generally along those same lines is a lesson that has given me great conflict. I was born into an American/Western/Christian life and world that has left me little reason to stray and figure other things out. But I stand firmly by the statement that it is gravely important to become uncomfortable to truly understand what matters. I lost my faith here because I am in a world so different than my own. A world that is so confident that Islam is the truth and the way to the Father. But I grew up in a country where Jesus was the way to Him. I still believe in God, no way have I been given this opportunity through happenstance, but God is telling me, "Go! Figure out this world I created for you! And then when you find your truth, come back to me." That is where I stand with my faith. Where is the reward in not challenging my wit? my tolerance? my knowledge? or my ability to stand strong, confident and moral as a person if I haven't thought about whether what I was prescribed as an infant is what is truly meant for me?

Essaouira

Something more tangible for me that I've learned here is the value of a dollar. With an 8DH:1USD exchange rate, I was pretty willing to buy most things in the beginning of the trip. But with time, I got a little stingier and now I am pretty sure I will never again be considered a consumer in the United States. In college, it's really easy to get consumed in the fun and the surreality of living on in a world knowing you have your parents help should you need it. Along with that is carelessness with money. Mom and Dad, this is my promise to start taking better care of my money. Being here and responsible for determining what my funds will go towards, what weekend trips are the most important and what beautiful Moroccan items to come home with has instilled in me the reasoning to be more selective about my purchases, rather than spending on arbitrary things. It is so much more rewarding to save money for something that you have thought about for a while.

Taghazoute

The last two things that I have learned since being in Morocco are the most important and affecting. They exist on their own but are also entirely related. Since being here, I have been surrounded by such great examples of people who value their time and their meaning in the world. I am truly impressed by some of the students in my program and I am envious of how early they had been influenced by someone or something somewhere in time before me. It's so easy to waste time in college which is sometimes a good thing. Living in a place with people all the same age, learning things about the world at the same time, and not being entirely self-supporting is not the real world, but it is the college world. Whether I am making last-minute decisions to do things with friends, procrastinating in my apartment with my roommates, sitting on Facebook for far too long or just living in the moment, I am not always making good use of my time. I have really come to the understanding here that it is simple and beneficial to figure out ways to make time worth something. With all the hundreds of downloadable task timers online I can set limits for myself for how long I spend on the internet. And when I watch a movie, why don't I watch it in French so I am learning something while enjoying my down time? I am so interested in so many things but don't spend enough time involving myself further in the topics. Why don't I invest more of my time in non-school related reading? And Ted Talks, for heaven's sake, are the most fascinating videos on the internet. Sitting down to watch a few of those rather than watching Yerin fall asleep (but isn't she so cute?) would make me a more interesting person. It's because of the people I have met here who have some of the same interests as I do, I assume that's why we ended up here together, that I have become inspired to spend my time enhancing myself and not just doing what everyone else does in their daily life. And here is where these last two lessons are related...

my street in the medina

When someone asked me, "What are your main interets?", I had to take a minute and think. Ponder myself, my interests, the things that I should pursue daily. I'm angry with myself that I could not produce an answer more quickly. This is me...I should know exactly what interests me and I should know how to dictate my interests to someone else. So it lead me to wondering...what do I stand for? I think that high school is to blame for not actively pursuing things that I love and things that would make me more me. At a time when no one wanted attention for the wrong reasons, everyone seemed to become one similar being. Individuality wasn't appreciated in high school nor was it actively sought. I used to love drawing and painting, but I can't tell you a time that I put that over my sports. Because sports were what everyone was doing. And I love to sing but I have never had the courage to be in a chorus or a musical because that was drawing attention that was different. I lost some of my uniqueness in growing up and I want to make up for that time. There are so many interesting and successful people in the world who know how to be themselves and thrive because of all of their individual qualities that they have accepted. Something that has given me solace in this huge realization that I may not be who I want to be is that my host family constantly reminds me that they think I am different and special. After meeting my friends and talking with them and also commenting on other Moroccans my age, they will tell me that I am different and that I work hard and that I understand things about the world. I think part of the reason why they recognize these differences is because I am American and I have a largely different mentality than one that they are familiar with. But the fact that they see me differently encourages me to be just that; different.

Akchour

And now this all culminates into coming home to the United States. Everything that I just mentioned, all these lessons that I've learned and my decisions to change all rest in my hands. I am given the most perfect and beautiful gift; the opportunity to redefine myself and make these changes permanent. After living in Morocco for four months, my old habits should be easy to ignore and my new habits should be easy to put in place. I do fear that going back to life in the United States might feel mundane, but I can redefine the way I do things and put new meanings to things that previously were so normal. I am not excited to be with friends again who expect me to be the same person I was when I sat in Dulles airport with sweaty palms and a Time magazine in my hands, wondering what Morocco held in store for me. I have changed so much over this span of time, in ways that I want to embrace. I don't exactly know who this "me" is yet, as I haven't been able to put myself in the American context. And I don't expect others to understand me completely right away because I don't think I will understand myself completely. I just have to be accepting of what others have in mind about me and not respond to their preconception with defense, but with explanations.

the people  who made me happiest

I know that people who care about me and love me are interested in my experiences here, but I have encountered it before and it is difficult to manage. People will say. "How was your trip? Did you love it?", but they will only have the capacity or the interest to listen for 30 seconds or a minute. I care more than anyone else will about what happened here, but I need to determine a way to make this life I led here understandable for those who I love and care about. Everyone knows about the elevator speech; give people a quick and to the point summary of what happened and its value and then expect no more questions, so I will have one of those prepared. But amazing things happened here in Morocco and I couldn't be more thankful for this experience. I have grown so much as a person and have opened my mind to so many things. Morocco is a really beautiful place and it has helped me discover the kind of person I want to be.