Marrakesh Mama: Sharing the Moroccan Love

Atlas makes himself at home

It's one of those reflective days. I am sitting on my balcony where it is 90 degrees in the shade. The call to prayer is echoing around me from multiple mosques. It's trying to drown out WNCS' "Sunday Morning Coffee House" which is playing aloud on my computer. It's my weekly Sunday morning dose of Vermont. I should put away my computer. I see pictures of snow in Jericho and Underhill on my Facebook newsfeed, and I see Moroccan friends posting from the desert and the coast. I see gloom on my news tabs - Syria, Sweden, Korea, and Egypt, and I see international friends doing rewarding work all over the globe. My inbox has too many bold messages reminding me of work to be done and calendars to update. My mind wanders all over the world.

I am jolted back to reality by the pain of razor sharp kitten claws digging into my exposed ankle, as our new baby, Atlas, launches himself from a hunting crouch to scale my leg just so he can bite at my hands and sit on my keyboard. He reminds me to stay in the moment. I am sitting on my balcony. It's 90 degrees in the shade. The Muslim call to prayer is echoing around me. This is where I need to be right now.

She made it!

It has been a fabulous week in Morocco with a visit from a dear Vermont friend - a true taste of home. And, with the arrival of my brother tomorrow, April promises to be full of reminders of Vermont mixed with the joy of sharing our new Moroccan home with those we love. As the world around us spins in what seems to be a darkening vortex, I am thankful for all that we have found here and all that I continue to learn every day.

I try hard to keep this blog personal - to leave my work world out of it. But, as fingers point and global conversations revolve around terrorism, I find myself conflicted about remaining silent about a topic that occupies much of my working day and absorbs my energy in and out of the classroom. The reality is that living and working in North Africa means that I am immersed in a Muslim country - living, learning, and teaching about national identity, religion, and tolerance at a turbulent time when the conversation always turns to ISIS. This week, I found myself at a workshop on combatting extremism, run by Moroccan students. I listened to students define "extremism" and debate the reality. They discussed whether it is realistic to think that we can put a halt to extremism. They explained the tenants of Islam to me. I listened, and I learned. They are intelligent. They are well-spoken. They are human. They are not terrorists. They are curious and eager to learn all that they can about the world outside of Morocco.

In my world away from the university, I try to relegate ISIS to a news tab open on my computer. I return to being a mom and a friend. I like to think that I am not naïvely separating reality from my domestic bubble where we all live blissfully oblivious of the big picture. I prefer to believe that by exposing my family and friends to the Morocco that we have grown to love, I am doing my small part to spread peace, love, and happiness which will, in turn, be shared as warm memories back on the other side of the Atlantic.

To that end, we embraced the Moroccan love of cats and finally adopted one of our own from a friend at a local bike shop. So far, Atlas has been the ball of love that we all anticipated a kitten would be. Given my poor track record with Moroccan pets (Katrina the chameleon lasted 7 days), I am lucky that the rest of the crew even lets me have an occasional cuddle with him. He is tiny and feisty and, to date, still alive. I'm sensing good barakah from this little guy.

Shari's visit last week, after a nightmarish travel adventure with Royal Air Maroc (which we will save for Trip Advisor - can you give someone negative stars on that thing?), was a much-anticipated treat. When she arrived bearing tasty treats like Annie's Mac and Cheese, chocolate chips, and maple syrup, she was immediately elevated to goddess status. After establishing that her new iPhone was, indeed, hopelessly lost forever in her first Moroccan taxi, she moved on like a trooper and powered through four packed days of Moroccan adventures.

Vermont Love!

She navigated the medina like a pro - steering clear of reptiles, monkeys, and vigilante henna artists. She photographed donkeys without getting flattened by motorbikes. She dodged hanging meat and intestinal ailments with the savvy of a seasoned Marrakshi, and she endured the stench of the tanneries for a glimpse at underbelly of the leather world. When we moved on to the coast for cool breezes and sea air, she took the scent of fish in stride. She photographed olives and argan, herbs and almonds, and carpets and pottery. She endured gusting wind for glimpses of beach camels. Then, she cooked a couscous tafaya worthy of Top Chef Arabia (with a tiny bit of help from the talented Khadija).

It was a wonderful week of Vermont conversation and catching-up in a setting oh-so-far from Vermont. It was a Moroccan dream come true. There is something magical about sharing a place you love with people from home. It means you have people who "get you." When we return from Morocco, we'll have stories to tell to anyone who will listen, but there will be a few people who really "get it" - who will be able to visualize where we are and what we are talking about, who will recall the pain of sharp kitten claws under the harsh glow of the bare bulb dangling from the kitchen ceiling as we reminisce about late-night French toast with real Vermont maple syrup.

Despite the airline hassles and the gritty outer edges that Morocco sometimes displays, I think there will be a little warm spot for Morocco in another American heart this week. If so...mission accomplished. I will rejoice in spreading the love one visit at a time.