The Morocco Period
2015-2017
For ten years, I wanted to join the peace corps.
Believing that college would be as boring as high school, I applied to join the soft diplomacy program when I was just 17. Of course I did not get accepted. The predictability of which did not soften the blow and I bawled my eyes out over the rejection letter in my car.
But in January of 2015 I found myself on a plane departing from JFK, bound for the Moroccan capital of Rabat with almost 100 other trainees. Though the first three months of immersive language training might just be the most difficult time of my life, nothing could shake my resolve, ten years in the making.
My training site was cold and gray and hectic and Moroccan Arabic (Darija) was challenging. Aside from having a completely different alphabet and grammatical structure, it has sounds foreign to my mouth. Every waking moment people were saying things to me I could not understand. When at last I would lay down to rest, my dreams would be filled with Darija and I would awake just as overwhelmed.
But it was all worth it. My first time on the train to my site, my heart swelled with joy. The 9 hour journey south became progressively more beautiful and when at last I arrived to my village, I knew it was worth the struggle. A village of 6,000 people, Sidi RaHal is located in the foothills of the mid-Atlas mountain range. Home to shepherds and artisans who love the simple life, the views are unbelievably picturesque. With mountains in the background, fields of poppies in the foreground, and rolling hills of wandering sheep in between, each day there was an honor and a joy.
I quickly adopted the habit of going for daily walks throughout my community. Though I knew it would help me connect to people in the village, I had no premonition just how crucial it would become. Each day I would go on the three mile loop around town, often times deviating through some neighborhoods. I met neighbors, students, shopkeepers, families, and teachers. Though I would sometimes have an unpleasant encounter, the overwhelming majority of my experiences were positive and led to friendships.
One particularly beautiful morning I met a young man who knew some English. His name was Khalid. As we stood on my favorite road (the one on the edge of town that faces endless fields of flowers and where you can see the sun rise over the mountains), he insisted to me that the U.S. was more beautiful than Morocco. I insisted that Morocco was more beautiful and urged him to behold the mountains and the flowers and the birds, but he would not relent. We agreed to disagree.
Khalid introduced me to Abderhaman, Aziz, Mohamed, Youseff, and Abderrahim, all of whom comprised my first class at the youth center and became friends and guides to understanding my community. By the time I entered my second year, I had befriended some amazing girls (this takes a bit longer since girls are confined to the home more than boys.) Fatimazaharah, Ikram, Soukaina, Bouchra, Ibitissem, and Miriam are just a few of the girls who became so near and dear to my heart and made my service a delight.
Khalid and I never saw eye to eye on which country was more beautiful. I maintain that the natural beauty of Morocco is as compelling as they come. But I must confess, what makes Morocco the most beautiful is the people of Sidi RaHal. The lifestyle there is honest and simple. We may have spent our days shelling peas, sweeping the persistent red sand off the floor, hand-washing clothes on the rooftops, or watching Turkish soap operas, but the hospitality, generosity, and warmth RaHalians shared with me and with each other is magical. It never ceased to amaze me how a room full of Moroccan women sitting on the dirt floor of a mud house could fabricate a party lasting for hours using only a drum.
My time in Morocco was formative and challenging; I am forever grateful to the community of Sidi RaHal for sharing their village with me and letting me share with them. I hope to one day return, but until then, I will content myself with shuffling through my photo albums, speaking Darija to my cat, and listening to the beautiful music of Oum.