“It is a strange thing to come home. While yet on the journey, you cannot at all realize how strange it will be.”
—Selma Lagerlöf (1858–1940)
The thing about Morocco is that it feels so ancient. Even with a smear of modernity across its surface, the landscape and the culture feel timeless, like a place where one might search for the answers to life’s questions. I didn’t come to this country looking for anything in particular; I had hoped only to be open to what it might show me.
Now that our tour was coming to an end, I stared out the car window at the goats in the argan trees and reflected on all that I’d seen in such a short amount of time. In my mind I ran over the highlights of the past eight days: the meaning of Ramadan, the effect of extreme heat and thirst on the body, the quirkiness of the camel, the country’s long and complicated history, the jinns and the evil eye, the henna witch, the shady traffic cop, the price of spice, and, through it all, Boujeema’s authoritative guidance.
What life lessons had I learned while here? It was too soon to tell. I knew it would take weeks, months, maybe even years to absorb all that I’d experienced in this mysterious country.
But the one realization already spinning in my mind was this: Muslims aren’t scary. At least not the ones I’d met on this trip. They aren’t a bunch of American-hating terrorists or faceless emigrants or humans somehow devoid of recognizable souls.
They are Boujeema and Abraham and JJ and the many other people I’d met along the way, including Abdul, a short, round man who showed us around Bahia Palace in Marrakech and exclaimed, “I hate politics!” After which we spent the afternoon gushing about better things, like our love of books. We talked not only about our favorite poets and novelists but also about why we like to read and where we like to read and how we own too many books and that we might try making furniture with them because we’ve run out of shelves. And then we laughed in an embarrassed kind of way when Chris yawned and said his ADD had kicked in long ago.
Kabir, a 15th-century Indian mystic poet and saint, once wrote, “If you have not experienced something for yourself, then it is not real to you.” Now that I’ve met all these friendly, fascinating, wily, and even grumpy Muslims of Morocco, I feel a little bit bigger inside. It’s as if my heart and mind have been broadened by a demographic I’d heretofore been conditioned to see not only as “Other,” but as a terrorizing, virgin-seeking Other. A bunch of “crazies.”
This isn’t a line of thinking I’d ever consciously bought into. But I admit that before this trip I hadn’t considered how an everyday, non-radical Muslim must feel about having his or her religion so egregiously twisted and misunderstood. How does it feel when much of the Western world looks at you and your beliefs askance?
In the palace gardens that day with Abdul, standing over the unmarked graves of his fellow countrymen, he had broached the subject of terrorism and suicide bombers, saying, “Murder is a sin in our religion, just as it is in yours. We want peace too.”
I am not a scholar of religion or politics, but the more I travel around this shrinking blue planet of ours, the more I understand that “the Other” is an illusion that only impedes our progress. We are, each of us, meaning-seeking creatures who hope to love and be loved by someone else.
Thank you, Morocco, for reminding me of that.
P•O•S•T•M•A•R•K•S 
I totally agree wth your final thoughts.
& I would have never, ever survived in that heat!
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I bet you would have, Kyla! I know you’re a resilient person. 🙂
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I loved tho one, your final thoughts etc and memories for me xxx
love you and miss you x
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tho
= this ha!
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I’m glad it takes you back, Hilary. I can see how memories of Morocco would stay with someone forever. xoxo
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Enjoyed reading this post, Monica
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Thank you, Arv! I really appreciate you reading it.
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😊👍
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You are welcome Monica
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Monica, I wasn’t prepared for the line “…goats in the argan trees…”! I love those little surprises in your writing… deep and thoughtful with a generous splash of lol..! Morocco obviously moved you. Thanks for bringing us such vivid descriptions and a better understanding of that culture. And the donkey photo is a masterpiece of simplicity, texture, and color… I would so frame that! Cheers, Susan
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Thank you, Susan! That’s Chris’s photo, of course. And we did frame it–in black and white, which looks even more stunning. 🙂
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That’s a splendid summing up, Monica. having lived for three or four years in Muslim countries, I find it hard to recognise the ‘average’ Muslim in the caricatures we constantly are bombarded with. And although I’ve not been to Morocco, I do recognise other countries and societies in your description.
What a great trip you had!
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Thank you, Mick. I think I’m learning that the unveiling of caricatures is perhaps one of the things I like best about traveling–and travel writing.
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Agreed. It’s very refreshing!
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This final chapter filled my heart with joy
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And that fills mine with joy! You’ll never believe this, but … I had such a hard time getting started on this last post. So I said to myself: “Pretend like you are having coffee with Tiffani and just tell her what you think!” I hope one of these days we do have that coffee! 🙂
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What a thought provoking and beautiful last post in this series. Your prose really touched my soul. The “Goats in the Argan Trees” is a stunning photo… I stared at it in disbelief for the longest time before I could proceed reading.
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Can you believe those goats? Apparently they’ve been climbing these trees to get at the fruit for countless generations. Makes you wonder who figured it out first … and how.
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I loved this series, Monica. It makes me really want to get to North Africa soon. Thanks for your interesting perspective and words.
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Beth, I will really look forward to hearing about that trip, which you will get to take with the best guide of all!
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Sometimes I think it should be mandatory for people to travel to other countries or even visit other cultures within their own country. And rather than just focusing on places, spend time with the people – not just the sanitized view from a distance many tours provide. I suspect there’d be a lot less demonization going on.
Nice Morocco series. 🙂
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Thanks, Dave. I agree. The people are really what makes a trip–across the world or across the street–special. Seems to me that sometimes the problem is not so much the people as it is the governments.
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So beautifully written Monica … always a delight to read! Hugs to you and Chris. xoxox
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Thank you, Maribeth. And hugs to you and Rocco!
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very crisp and beautiful photos………
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Wow! stunning pictures and fantastic writing. Your blog really encouraged me to visit Morocco and other places around the world to experience their culture rather than just visiting for fun. Thank you for sharing this travel series.
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Thank you, Ratheesh for your comments. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to visit Morocco soon! 😊
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I couldn’t agree more, Monica. .. with the sentiments here, and especially this line: “the more I travel around this shrinking blue planet of ours, the more I understand that “the Other” is an illusion that only impedes our progress. We are, each of us, meaning-seeking creatures who hope to love and be loved by someone else.” It’s definitely been our experience in traveling through Muslim places like the Arab quarter of Jerusalem, Egypt, Turkey, Malaysia and southern Thailand… and through other places and cultures of this shrinking planet. There are beautiful, warm, caring, giving people the world over. It never serves to paint them with the same brush or to view things in an all or nothing/black and white way.
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Yes, it feels like a lesson we can never learn well enough. I am always heartened by the good people who occupy every region of the globe. They’re everywhere! 🙂
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That they are! (Thank goodness!)
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