Rooftop

We spent the night in Merzouga last night. Merzouga is a remote town in the Sahara (close to the Algerian border). The heat and dryness there is like nothing I've experienced before. Last night, unable to sleep, I went up to the roof. There are no photos to do justice to the beauty of that night, so I wrote a poem (a first for me) about it.

A steady hot breeze spread a thousand brief kisses

across exposed skin.

The earth parted her clouds to reveal a full moon

too bright for fragile night eyes.

Shy stars shrunk back

embarrassed by their inadequacies.

And night pulled away his dark blanket.

The moon stood proud and bright

bragging to his mother earth.

As he drew closer to her,

the heat of his body calmed the wind.

He was grateful for the life she gave him.

He remembered when they were one-

before his birth

And shuttered at the memory of the impact that eternally separated them.

The moon paused in the sky

and yearned to be close to her

And back inside of her

Back home

...but then continued on his inevitable journey.

Our Berber Hippie Guide

We went to Dades Gorge on a expedition through family farms to understand the basic stable crops such as corn, yerba buena (speriment), cilantro, olive trees, cauliflower, alfalfa (for the animals), thyme, fig trees, tomatoes, peaches, and rose bushes to make rose water and cologne. The water that irrigates these farms comes from the mountains and the farmers do not pay any fees. Our guide was a Berber Hippie named Mohamed who was a nomad until he discovered that being a tour guide through the family farms would offered him a stable income to live close to the mountains and along the river. I really enjoyed his sense of humor and child like spirit, especially when I asked him to sing Berber songs. I would also like to mention that many of these farmers have family in France who like our Mexican immigrants in the United States have immigrated to France in search of opportunities to assist their families in the Dades Gorge.

La Barca, Morocco?

Yesterday right outside of Quarzazat we stopped to eat at a restaurant called Labaraka. This interested me because my wife’s family comes from a city in Jalisco called, La Barca. In looking at the two names, I am convinced that La Barca, Jalisco derives from Labaraka. Labaraka in Arabic means benedictions. I am sure the people of La Barca, Jalisco would not have a problem with such a positive meaning.

It is interesting to note that many people in La Barca, Jaliso pride themselves in cooking birria, a specialty goat dish. Here in Morocco, the people have perfected lamb and goat tagines, which are very tasty as well . As of yet, I can’t decide which I enjoy more. My wife’s family owns a restaurant chain in Los Angeles. I am going to try and get them a large sign with the Arabic name and spelling of Labaraka.

Along these lines, I am learning that other Mexican cities have names that have Arabic origins. He have Valladolid, Guadalajara, and Salamanca among others. Guadalajara, for example, means rock in the river. Salamanca means peace to the Anka family. As my list grows, I will have more things to share with my students.

There also many Spanish surnames that have Arabic roots like Medina, Garcia, Guzman, Gomez and Torres. There are a lot more just like many words such as alcohol, algebra, algodon, and most of the words that start with “al”, which means ‘the’. Why wasn’t I aware of so much of this information?

Today while the group took a hike along the Dades Gorge, I got a kick out of walking past pomegranate trees, fig trees, almond trees, cilantro patches, yerba buena fields, peach tress, tomato gardens and donkeys carrying firewood. It was as if I was walking along a river in Guanajuato or Michoacán where young kids frolic in the water. It was beautiful. It is amazing how much of my heritage is connected to Morocco. The longer I stay in Morocco, the better understanding I have of my identity. For too long I have been ignorant of my African roots. It feels great to know of all the great cultures that have fused together to create me: the Mexican.

A Koranic School

After our long journey across the Atlas Mountains we arrived at Quarzazate, known to the Berbers as Warzazat (the door to the desert). The next morning we got up early to tour the Kasbah of Toaurirt, and the local village. As we made our way through the village we heard these young students reciting a prayer, as we passed by the doorway they waved at us. Our tour guide called us toward the doorway, as we approached the doorway we saw some of them writing on the tablets, and others erasing their tablet and starting over.

As I looked up I noticed that we were in front of a Mosque, and to the right was this Koranic school. In this courtyard were a group of very young students reciting the Sura 4: An Nisa (The women) verses 1-18 of the Koran. It was a Koranic school that traditionally teaches the Koran, Islam, and the Arabic Language. These students have to master each Sura before they can move on the next Sura. In medieval times it was common to have Koranic schools attached to Mosques, they were known as A Madrassa or referred to as Medersas. I was impressed with the cooperative learning among the students and motivation to learn Arabic and the Koran. (Sorry but my connection is weak and battery about to give up).

The Gift of Giving

When we went to the little school outside of it was a wonderful experience. The staff was so personable and willing to connect with us. I honestly think they were as curious about us as we were about them. As we were exiting the school they had put together a wonderful display of tarts and that wonderful mint tea. It was elegantly served in the traditional manner. No detail was spared. When I entered the room I felt it was important to reciprocate their welcoming gesture by greeting them in my broken arabic. "Ana ismee Sylvia, wa anti?" I am Sylvia, and you? "Tacharafna." Nice to meet you. Well, when I got to the last person at the table, I was feeling a little more comfortable and thought I'd give a complement to engage her in a conversation. I pointed to the broche on Soura's scarf and said "Jamela!" I thought maybe she'd say thank you for telling her it was beautiful. She immediately reached for the broche and gave it to me. I said no thank you. She insisted and began to try to pin it on me. We went back and forth a few times. Maceo and Unice told me that if I did not accept it she would be offended, although it took everything in me to accept it, I did.

To be quite honest I was embarrassed. This was such a selfless gesture on Soura's part, but how could I take it. I struggled with this all day.

Then the next day, we went toward the Atlas mountains. It was quite a trek. After a few hours on the mountainous trail the but broke down due to overheating. Some of us stayed on the bus, the others went to venture outside. I of course took my camera to take a picture of the Marrakech sign that was also in arabic for my kids. The tour guide went to a nearby house, knocked on the door, and asked the Berber family if we could stay awhile with them to escape the heat until the bus was up and running. They accepted.

We look liked the "Seven Dwarfs" from "Snow white" all of us walking to the house in a line. Upon entering the property one is confronted with a rural Berber house. They had a donkey in the front yard. As you walk along the pathway, it leads you to a courtyard and to the right was a door. Everyone began to take off their shoes, so I did too. Inside there were only rugs on the floor and pillows for us to sit on. A few minutes later the Berber woman was serving that glorious tea that was the best I had ever had. She smiled and tried to talk to us. With gestures, smiles, and some word we were able to get some ideas across. She showed us how she made fresh bread in her wood burning stove. She also also asked very sweetly as she grabbed my chin, "Berber?" I told her La, no I am not Berber. About 20-30 min later she offered us rabbit and fresh baked bread. We refused at first, but when she started to make that sad face, we immediately changed our minds and stayed. "Score!" It was delicious! When we left, she hugged us and gave us kisses, I got four on each cheek and a big hug.

As I was leaving, I was again struck by her extreme generousity. I wanted to give her something, but What? I was walking back to the bus with my head low. Aahhh, I told Sherry, I forgot something, I'll be right back. I ran back to the house and I handed Jamela, the daughter one of my blue bracletes, and I did the same with the Berber Mom. I kept one for myself.

Now it all makes sense, when I gave that bracelette it was like giving a gift to myself. Every time I look at Soura's brooche or my lonely blue bracelet I remember them. Just like Soura said when she gave me the brooche, to remember.

Sylvia Bell

The Broken Bus

When the bus broke down, I was melting in the heat until we met our new friends.

Now, you might think a bus break down in the sweltering desert heat of the high Atlas Mountains might lead to a series of unfortunate events. It began to feel that way to me at first. But, things worked out through the gracious hospitality of a Berber family who didn’t live far away. The father walked up the hill to meet us and invited us into his home. We received a tour and met his family. His wife was very hospitable and sat us quickly in their family’s living area. This Berber family was wonderful and we were served traditional tea which tasted much better the restaurants we have visited. This secret ingredient we found out later was a pinch of thyme. While we enjoyed our tea, the wife began to cook us a meal over her open wood indoor stove we had observed during our tour. As we were talking outside, the wife appeared quickly with a table and a few low stools. Then, immediately followed with a platter of rabbit with onions along with flat bread she baked for us. Soon after, our bus had been repaired and we were summoned to return. But, not before we shared kisses and friendly Moroccan goodbyes to this family.

Goats In a Tree - Dr. Seuss for Teachers

Rows and Rows of Argon Trees



Quick! Think of a Conundrum



What Could it Be?



Several Goats Standing in a Tree!