Morocco: Initial Expectations

This program spends a week in Morocco to further our discussion of religious pluralism. The following are my first thoughts about Morocco upon arrival:

We landed, got on the bus, and as I began to see the streets of this place I’ve heard so much about, I immediately started to cry. It felt like I had finally found a place where I belong; where I fit in. Knowing that there are Jews within driving distance of me made me instantly feel at home. I just miss my people. I miss the bond you immediately feel when meeting a fellow Jew abroad. I asked my program director if we would be able to go to the Jewish quarter of one of the cities we’re visiting and he didn’t even know there was one. I feel like the curriculum of this trip is going to be completely lacking of aspects of Judaism present in this country. After all, the main theme of our program is studying religions, but how could you leave out one that is present here? I understand it’s different in Senegal where there are no Jews, but how do you justify leaving it out here, a place rich in Jewish culture? I don’t care if it’s not a dominant religion. It’s one that exists and has a right to be learned about. I’ve been fascinated learning about Islam and Christianity, but when is it everyone else’s turn to learn about my religion?

I miss my dad. I miss my rock in terms of my faith. He always talked about visiting this place and it just feels wrong being here without him or any of my family.

I’m afraid I won’t want to go back to Senegal. I am afraid of getting too comfortable here, knowing there are Jews I can connect with. I’ve missed this aspect of my life for so long and I feel like it’s not validated like aspects of other people’s identities. I don’t just want to be Jewish, I want to act it. I want to be visible. I want to practice. I want my community.

We stopped at a rest stop and I walk into the bathroom, about to burst into tears. I see Fatima doing the same. I hug her, ask what’s wrong, and she says she doesn’t even know. We stand there, in this McDonalds bathroom, hugging each other and crying. I don’t know why, but when I hugged her, I instantly felt better. She brought a sort of comfort that I was looking for. Perhaps it’s because she’s so devoted to her faith, or that she’s just such a caring person. It could also be both.

When she emerged from the bathroom she went to the mosque at the rest stop to pray. She remained in there for a while, but eventually emerged, in seemingly happier spirits. Perhaps she just needed that connection to home; her space of serenity and peace. Something to remind her she’s not as alone as she thinks.

If only there was a synagogue at this rest stop.