Vignette from Morocco
One night during the term in Morocco, I was followed. We had only just left the tram station, coming back from dinner on the town, when she told me to move left, now. I brushed it off and asked why, and she said two men behind us were saying bad things, and that we needed to get out of the way. She speaks French, I don’t, so I trusted her judgement. I continued talking on the topic we had previously been discussing, when the two men behind us started talking to us directly. I started out feeling a little annoyed, but soon I felt the situation escalate along with my heart beat. We walked faster, keeping our eyes ahead of us, but they matched our pace. They started lightly touching our arms, and one even started pushing Chloe against the wall with his shoulder. We talked in quick sentences to each other about what to do, and at some point, I told Chloe that we needed to cross the road to get away from them. The two men followed us through the traffic, and that scared us even more. They attempted to separate us, and succeeded at one point, so we reconvened and linked arms. The streets of Agdal, a part of Rabat, had started to feel like home, but in that moment, it felt timeless and strange, like it didn’t exist, and none of this was happening.
We were close to the hotel now, but it seemed eternally far away. We were also worried they would follow us into the hotel, but we knew that there were guards outside.
We made it to the hotel safely, and I told our story to the staff members on duty. They told us we did the best possible thing. They said we were right to not say anything and just continue walking. I agree with them logically, but it still didn’t feel right.
When we got back to our room, we were still on edge from the adrenaline and still quite scared. I was shaking, and we were both breathing fast. The second half of our dinner party stopped by the room and saw from our faces that something was wrong. I told them what happened, and immediately they came to comfort us. Pauli and Lisa went to get us pastries and quite a few people stopped by, not-so-subtly seeing if we were alright. In that moment, we had the full support of the community.
As a school, we had been told before about the dangers of walking at night, and what to do if we were harassed. For the first week, we had it drilled into us. Then we realized, that for all of the bad things that happened, the good, kind, and welcoming people outnumbered them by far. After being followed, I realized that this could have happened anywhere, and it does. It isn’t just in Muslim or ‘third world’ countries, it happens all over the world.
I love Morocco - it is one of the most beautiful places I’ve been. The kind and welcoming people far outnumber the bad. The energy of exploration, and the mingle of completely new and just like home enchanted all of us. We went to the ocean, not the beach, and were surprised by the powerful ocean, slamming against the rocks and then surrendering back to sea. We threw a bottle holding a message there, and cheered when it didn’t shatter on the cliffs. The attitude amongst my peers was very much focused on trying new things. I attempted kickboxing for the first time and loved it and belly danced as well. In terms of food, while all the new things were intimidating, I tried them and accepted the flavors into my experience. Morocco is an excellent country for living, in a way that looks deceptively like a Western country, with little tricks and habits that teach that it is, in fact, entirely unique.
