08 June 2011

On Loving Morocco, Moroccans

This is from Kathleen Dean Moore's book The Pine Island Paradox.

In one chapter she reflects on these questions, What does it mean to love a person? What does it mean to love a place? And she answers the questions thus: "it means at least this: 1. to want to be near it, physically. 2. to want to know everything about it - its story, its mood, what it looks like by moonlight. 3. to rejoice in the fact of it. 4. to fear its loss, and grieve for its injuries. 5. to protect it - fiercely, mindlessly, futilely, and maybe even tragically, but to be helpless to do otherwise. 6. to be transformed in its presence - lifted, lighter on your feet, transparent, open to everything beautiful and new. 7. to want to be joined with it, taken in by it, lost in it. 8. to want the best for it. 9. desperately, and 10. to take responsibility for its well-being."

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In this excerpt lies the proof for me, for myself, that I love Morocco, truly love it, and wasn't just infatuated with it. There is also the proof that I have loved people here, and I wasn't just in lust or infatuated with them.

I know I haven't updated in a long time. I haven't been doing much... I haven't been working, I haven't been traveling. I've been visiting people, enjoying all that Rabat has to offer, flying back and forth to America for my sister's graduation, and watching the sparrows go crazy in my neighborhood around sunset. I've been trying to write my book - the subject of another entry, maybe even another blog entirely - but (a) I am lazy and (b) I'm daunted by the enormity of my idea and thus I really don't know where to begin.

I've also been following the news ravenously. I am a romantic, and so all this revolution stuff, at first, was really sparking my imagination, reminding me of French novels and stories of 1967 revolutions. But then I saw a policeman backhand a man across the face, and club him hard in the balls, and I realized how unfair and how unromantic this whole thing really is, and really will be for quite sometime. I pray for all those who are bold enough to speak out, because I am not too sure I would be. Torture, but more so the threat of torture, is scary shit.

I don't know what will happen to this blog once I go back to the States, on June 26th, but I hope to continue to write about Morocco for a while. Inshallah.

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