Cornerstones - Morocco
I’ve had the great honor of calling Morocco home for the past five, almost six years. I have had some of my best and absolute worst days within its borders. I have lived in a small Saharan village and in the enchanting, ever-growing metropolis of Marrakech. I have traveled its bumpy and breathtaking roads until they literally melted into the sands or ran into the ocean. I have been welcomed into more homes than I ever could have imagined and have had more cups of tea over wonderful conversation than I deserve. For me, Morocco has been a place of challenge, and growth, and millions of lessons learned. I mention a few below, but they in no way fully encompass my experience here.
There is always time for tea.
I am somewhat of a type-a personality. I like plans and schedules, I just do, and Morocco has a magical way of challenging me on this at every turn. And you know what, I need that. My partner, who is much better at going with the flow than I am, is more naturally suited to the Moroccan way of life, but I‘m getting there.
The number of surprise tea invitations over the years, from people we have shared taxis with, neighbors, shop owners, people we met on the street, etc is truly astronomical. And each time someone stops a conversation to ask if we would like tea, I inwardly cringe, even still. Because that’s who I am, and that tea date was not on the days to-do list. But I can tell you this. I have never once regretted accepting a tea invitation after the fact.
I have learned that there is always time for tea. We are never too busy to just sit down and talk to someone for 15 minutes.
Store bought bread is never as good as homemade bread, and man oh man, homemade bread is so stinkin’ good
I hail from a box cake, tomato sauce from a jar type of society, so moving to Morocco was quite a shock to the system. Especially, because when I moved to Morocco, I moved straight to a rural, Saharan village, and let me tell you, there wasn’t a single cake mix available for hours in any direction. It was a HARD adjustment and it was so good for me.
Every morning my host mom, Naima, would wake up around 5 am and she would make bread for the day. There was a small clay, dome oven out in the gravel lot across from the house that she and the other moms in the neighboring houses would use. And that dome is where the magic happens. I guarantee you, no one in the world can make water, yeast, flour, olive oil, and some salt taste the way these women do.
BUT, it was in this village, in my tiny 36 square foot kitchen that I truly learned how to cook, and the joy of doing it. And how cooking, especially from scratch, applies to so many other areas of life. That kitchen, in that environment taught me how to take simple ingredients or bases and turn them into complex, beautiful things. And now, funnily enough, I own Marrakech’s only food truck, KechMex, a feat that to this day still makes my friends and family at home laugh. (Honestly, I could write an entire other post about how the process of learning to cook has altered my worldview, but I’ll put that off til later).
Anyhoo, I still understand the convenience of boxed food and other quick fixes, but Morocco has forced me to confront the real quality difference that’s possible when we choose quality ingredients, give it the time it deserves, and put effort into the things we do.
Connection is paramount. In all areas of life.
Morocco, I think more than any other place I have ever been emphasizes the importance of relationships and creating/maintaining connections. Connections are everything here. You rely on your connections to get into the right school, find or land a job, score a good house, pay for your bills in a pinch, maneuver permit allowances, take care of you in old age, celebrate life events with you, surround your family in times of heartache, etc.
Obviously, the need for connection is present in every culture, but here, it just seems so exaggerated, and for someone that has operated as a lone wolf for much of their life, this NEED, not just desire for connection, took me some getting used to.
There is something sacred about traditions.
Modern Morocco is much like any place you’d visit around the world, with its own hue, to be sure, but there are definitely aspects that anyone would recognize as ‘normal’. That being said, Morocco is a place thoroughly steeped and marinated in tradition. Hospitality, cous-cous Fridays, wedding procedures, greetings that go on for ages but differ by regions, the oldest boy washing peoples hands before dinner, tea, bathing rituals, henna, the back and forth of giving people shit, etc. Here, there is a ‘right’ way of doing it and it’s valued. In an old culture like this, tradition is key and it sets parameters for modern and future Morocco and I think that’s a good thing. Here, I’ve learned that when we lose our traditions, life can become monotonous, or worse, meaningless.
There is beauty in the mundane, BUT you have to notice it.
Tiles on tiles on tiles. Differing hues of pinks and browns. Gardening in the desert. Architecture. Embroidery on djellabas and napkins. Hundreds of styles of carpet weaving. Graffiti and murals on random walls. Conflicting and textured patterns. Fresh everything, everywhere. Unnecessary, beautiful metal work. Flowery food garnish. Dreamy lanterns. Outside of the box solutions to everyday problems. Spiced coffee. Fields of northern wildflowers, come spring. Handmade leather sandals. Couches individually designed and locally produced. Perfumes made to suit your unique body chemistry. Telling the time by the stars, sun, and moon.
There are literally a million beautiful things surrounding you at any give moment, but YOU have to CHOOSE to NOTICE them!
Anything is possible, you just have to figure out how.
Navigating and creating a life in Morocco can be very challenging and difficult, please don’t hear me saying that it isn’t. BUT…..
One day, while on vacation in Chefchaouen, I met a random foreign stranger in an alley and we struck up a conversation. He asked me, “is ……….. possible in Morocco.” I remember boldly replying to him that, “ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE IN MOROCCO!” I don’t know if this is 100% true, but I do believe it’s mostly true.
Isn’t that true anywhere? I think so, yes. Anything is possible, but you have to know the right people, ask the right questions, and say the right things. I think I had known this lesson for a while, but it really solidified for me in Morocco.
People will fight for you.
If you live long enough, bad shit will happen to you. It sucks, but that’s the way it is. And after living here for years, bad shit has happened to me. I have been robbed, groped, followed for way longer than was ‘okay’, etc. But you know what? In each of those circumstances, I have had people fight for me. I have had an (unknown to me) shop owner intervene and get in a physical confrontation with someone who was following and harassing me. I’ve had mere acquaintances and strangers assist me in tons of situations where I felt lost or uncomfortable. And I’ve had, I’m sure poorly paid, hotel staff stay after their shift to help me finalize packing a huge order that I was carrying for my company, Amazig Leathers.
I mentioned all of this of this just to say, bad shit will happen to you. Every day isn’t roses, but remember to look around, there will be someone there willing to help.
Ask for help when you need it.
This lesson kind of goes along with the one above, at least for me. I’m a pretty self-reliant individual, but I learned quickly when I moved to Morocco that there are a million normal, everyday things that I struggle with because they are done a little differently here. That is A-OKAY, but I had to learn how to do them, which meant I had to learn how to ask for help. This was a huge lesson for me to learn and I’m still learning it, and as I gradually learn it, life gets a little better and easier.
Marhaba (Welcome)
I am white. I have blue eyes. My hair changes color all of the time. I have visible tattoos. I’m a Christian. My Arabic is passable, but not GOOD, my Tashelhite even less so. All of these reasons and more make me a minority in Morocco, and yet I have been welcomed into so many strangers’ homes and lives, it’s humbling. I’m different and yet Morocco makes me feel welcome. I hope I can repay the favor for people throughout my life.
*Please keep in mind, I know Morocco is not the most open minded and welcoming place in the world for certain groups of society, but I can only really speak about my experience and I cannot wait to learn from your experiences here below!*
