Rabat

In our living room at home, we have a coffee table that is worn out- the paint is chipping, the wood is faded. But it is supposed to look that way and looks beautiful because of it. That is what Rabat reminds me of. In the medina, many of the walls are cracked, streaked with dirt, bright colored paint chipping away. But it makes the narrow, twisting alleys beautiful. And the doors- why do we not have doors like this in the US? Here, the doors add all the character to the medina walls. They come in all different shapes, shades, materials, and styles. I could make an entire photo album of just doors. And like the maze of the medina, the doors seem to open only to a little foyer or staircase and then upon entry, you realize how big the building is inside- with more hallways, more turns, more rooms. Mazes within mazes. Our hotel, for instance, has a tiny wooden door on the wall of a narrow alley. The door leads to an entry way that suddenly opens to an enormous open air court yard with two stories of surrounding rooms. There is a pool on the roof! I don't understand it. This was ignorant on my part, but I had no idea how developed and modernized Morocco was, particularly the capitol city. There is construction everywhere.  There are many things I love about this place, and I was only here for four days. First, the ocean. Our hotel in the medina was a short distance from the ocean. I love how pedestrian friendly it is, and I ran to the beach each morning. It is a big public area and I would sit out on the rocks of the jetty or only the small cliffs and people watch. I saw a lot of men. There are so many more men out and about than women, and most women were in the company of men. That doesn’t even compare to the amount of men working- only 25% of women are employed in North Africa, compared to 50% in other developing countries, including those in Sub-Saharan Africa. This has caused me to think about an observation I made in Sierra Leone. How much of my life is determined by circumstance?  What, where, and who you’re born into makes up so much of who you become. If I had been born in Morocco, would I have (or even want) a future outside of motherhood, marriage, and subservience to men? Would I be Muslim? Would I be part of the 54% who are illiterate in this country? Would I be anything like the Christian-raised, college educated American I am today?  The person I thought I spent my whole life supposedly choosing to be? I honestly do not know, and that scares me. I do think I would be better looking had I been born here. This sounds weird, but Moroccan women are as beautiful as their country, especially the elderly women. Granted, I love old people but I think the old women here look extra dignified and wise. I also think I would be more alert. How could you not be in a city like this? I feel like I am constantly using all five of my senses at once. Especially in the market. Seeing all the deep colors, patterns, architecture, shadows, and lights, smelling the mixtures of spices and cooking food, hearing the calls from street vendors and other people in Arabic and French, touching the hanging fabric and jewelry, shoving and being shoved through mobs of people, and tasting mysterious street food I can’t understand the names of. (I tried cow brains and liver. Never again. The roasted corn and fresh OJ is amazing, though.)  While there have been a few uncomfortable exchanges with men, everyone here has been nothing but welcoming. From the extreme-hospitality of our hosts to our first night out to dinner when the band pulled me up to dance with them, spinning me around and around while they clapped really fast, to clubbing with the students who befriended us at EGE- Moroccans are friendly, fun people. I’ve learned a lot from our lectures and panel discussions with Moroccan students at EGE. I’ve been fascinated by Moroccan history, informed on current political events, and horrified, yet empowered, by women’s conditions and movements. Overall, I am infatuated with this place. Sad to go, but excited to meet my host family and start working on the schools in Azrou tomorrow. 

Anna- Every baby I see, I look close to check if it is Salma. I see you everywhere here. :)