African Journey #1

The last time I was in Africa (exactly 10 months ago to date) I
just about froze to death. I lost some brains cells because of it, but
for some reason I was on top of the tallest free standing mountain in
the world, Mt. Kilimanjaro, about to die yet determined to make it to
the top: and I did. What a reward! Now, as I sit here in Fes,
Morocco, I am once again freezing. However this time there is no
mountain I can use to justify leaving the brisk wintry, snow filled,
slush ridden sidewalks of New York City only to be caught in the winter
rainy season of North Africa. Cold as ever! Here I am Bermuda shorts
and all getting off the plane only to think, like some people just a
day earlier, we had been stuck on the runway for the last 6.5 hours.
How can I travel all the way to Africa and be this cold, I thought to
myself. That turbulence must had been my stomach grumbling. I whisked
on my jacket and sweater and braved the chilly Casablancan air. Where
is my reward?

Thirty minutes and several passport and customs checks later I
discovered my reward: I was in Morocco! I had made it, once again I
dreamed of Africa and here I was on its soil, no matter how chilly/cold
the air, I was here.

Arriving in the morning, I spent the day getting acclimated to the
Moroccan culture and familiarizing myself with where things were how to
use the trains and how the currency worked. I knew I'd be here a week
and these things proved to be important know-hows. I stayed the night
in Casablanca, waking up early to head to Meknes to link up with folks
I had been in contact to hopefully volunteer. Meknes proved to be a
dead end because my contact was unavailable this week. I arrived too
late to Meknes to really see the city, so I got a hotel and rested. I
wrote in my journal on the way to Meknes for God to send me an angel
upon arriving and when I stepped from the train there was an eager
Braham, registered tour guide and happy to see me. He directed to me
to a nice hostel and told me to go to Fes and see its Medina (from my
understanding to seeing several Medinas now it is the old part of the
city, completely surrounding by a wall with entry points/gates along
the way to get in). I was just happy to have a place to stay that was
cheap and clean so I said I would check it out.

Again the turbulence rumbles in my stomach. Searching for food I
stumbled upon a quaint restaurant with a very nice man all smiles that
brightened the darkest night. I sat down to eat and he sat right down
with me and we chatted the night away talking about our respective
homes and about the journey in which I was preparing to engage. He
gave me pointers of how to navigate and which parts to stay away from
and after dinner he took me on a tour of the city. Meknes turned out
to be a wonderful place rich in history with grand castles that date
back hundres of years. After the tour we embraced and a piece of my
heart opened to put a piece of his inside. I will remember this angel
sent to me to meet.

Awaking the next morning, I quickly dressed and headed for the
train to take me an hour to Fes. Again in my journal I wrote a prayer
for guidance and protection and to only send an angel to help me today,
casting away all things negative that can happen. Again, getting off
the train there was Braham, who had taken the earlier train to Fes
coming toward me with big eyes and a smile. He directed me to a hotel
to put my things and to freshen up. Putting my things away I said to
myself, "this dude is about to rip me off, he smelled me coming." But
just as quick I reminded my self of the prayer I had written asking for
protection and only an angel be brought my way, and smiled eager to go
get my blessing.

Braham in deed turned out to be a blessing! He took me high in
the hills to see the Fes Medina from high up and it looked like how I
imagined the cities in the Bible would look. And it turns out this
city (maintaining a wealth of it original splender) dates back nearly
1500 years. We went down into the Medina and explored the old ways and
spoke to many people whose crafts were many generations old. The
streets of this Medina were so narrow that only one and a half people
can fit side by side ion the streets. Therefore cars were prohibited
to enter. The only form of transportation was the mule taxis that
carried your things. Braham was an interesting source of knowledge
about Morocco, its culture and he too wanted to hear stories of my home
and my journey. We exchanged many thought s and stories and parted
late int he evening at my hotel. I relaxed to the feeling that this
journey was starting to take shape.

The next day I traveled north (6 hour train ride) to Tangier, the
closest point from Morocco to Spain. Tangier was a hip town full of
Europeans and people there spoke so many different languages that no
one seemed to understand each other. Needing to be in Marrakesh (10
hour train ride south) by Saturday (I was on Thursday at the time), I
tried to get a quick ferry across the waters to Spain. It turned out
there is no quick or cheap way to accomplish this so I did not go.
Each journal entry has ended with the same prayer for protection and
the arrival of an angel. This blessing came in the form of a man named
Ydriss. The train rides are so long and when you can get an entire
bench to yourself you seize the moment and stretch out to sleep. I
made it about two hours like this before a woman tapped violently on my
shoulder telling me to move over. Her and her family took ALL of the
remaining space and pushed me in a corner against the window. A few
curse words and unpleasant things said about her mother floated in my
head, but again I felt I was being tested and tried to make the best of
this situation. It turned out that this family was the wife, mother,
sister, and son of Ydriss, who came into the car later and introduced
himself and we spoke for hours about everything. Upon getting off the
train he invited me to the hotel with his family and he would negotiate
a good price for the night. I followed him there and rested well the
night.

The next day Ydriss took his family to the ferry for Spain where
they live and we hung out the entire day, him telling me stories of his
Moroccan home people he has met in his life and I did the same. He
took me on tour of the Tangier Medina, had someone fix my phone and
later we boarded a train headed south to Marrakech. He owns a shop
here in Marrakech, speaks 8 languages and turned out to be a great
listener and friend. At one point we were laughing so hard that soda
came out of my nose. We really connected when I let him listen to my
poetry on my iPod and promised him I'd leave a poem with him that I
write before I leave.

I think this is a good place to stop. I am leaving Marrakech
tomorrow headed south to Mauritania and then on to Dakar, Senegal where
I will begin my mission work helping my African Brothers and Sister
there.

Language of Love (dedicated to Maroc)

Love is the language of which we were all born native speakers
Conversing in laughter and games we play
While breaking bread like brothers
We are no different-- Citizens of this world
Our blood flows through us like the mighty ocean
Ebbing against the Tangier sands
Love is the language spoken when strangers
break their silence and connect palms and eye contact
And smiles and stories of their home
Only to realize that we were from the same place
We breathe the same air and our tears originate from similar pain
Love is synonymous with "Welcome"
For it invites peace breaking the barriers of what is unknown
And embracing faith
I have known such a love while ingesting cous cous with lamb
And exchanging side wrenching laughter in the Marrakech Medina
I have felt its presence under the Moroccan moon
Surrounded by its wind that send chills like the serenity of a silent prayer
Love is the Hand of God manipulating our moments so that we may meet
Love knows no nationality
It is a language spoken only with our hearts
Heard only when we open our minds
Love is the reason we dance, or play music, or sing, or cry, or whistle
Live, die, try, dream, believe, hope or travel
It is what we give our sons as we bid farewell
Sending them off to distant lands unknown
What we give our brothers as they dream of new worlds
And possibilities uninhibited by fear
What we provide for our sisters as they struggle to remain positive about life
Love is the gift given to the world by God
More abundant than air, for it transcends life
More beautiful than the African Landscape at dusk
And more fertile than its soil, for it can grow in the harshest
Climates of hatred and bitterness created by borders
Love is more delicate than a newborn child
Wild like a rose among dandelion
It is a language without a dictionary defined only by the
Good we find in others, in ourselves
It is what we speak each time we close our eyes and dream
Speak to me, my friend, in Love
And our souls will be forever altered
Our hearts will sings songs
And loneliness will disappear

Derrick S. Slack
24/Feb/2007
Marrakech, Maroc