Dec. contd.

Through the Woods to Grandpa’s House

As I sat in my seat during landing, I was so excited that I was about to see my mom that I couldn’t sit still. I practically ran off the plane and into my mom’s arms. My sister Paris was there and so was my cousin Fairley. It had been about seven months since I had seen my mom and almost 15 months since I had seen my sister. I wanted to hug them for forever and it was so nice to finally be with my family.

I tried to explain all of my adventures that had happened to me along the way but my English was not up for the task. My sister and cousin just stood there staring at me as my mom translated what I was trying to say. After all, moms can always understand. I got my bags and we headed back to grandpa’s house.

I missed my grandpa so much this last year and I was so happy to see him. I ran into his room and woke him and my grandma up, just like I used to do when I was a little kid. Even though I told him it was late and that I would see him in the morning, he insisted on making me a late dinner. He was also a little taken back by my speech and when he presented me with a late night slice of quiche, my entire family went into shock as I ate it using just my right hand.

That night, I slept on the floor next to my sister and even though it was so great to be with my mom and family, I couldn’t help but cry. I explained to my mom that I cry every night and it was normal. But, we both knew that this time I was crying for different reasons. I knew I didn’t belong in Morocco and now I felt like I didn’t belong home. There were just so many emotions that flooded my head that it was all so hard to process. That night I spoke Arabic in my sleep and kept my mom and sister up all night.

Bacon! Bacon!

The next morning I woke up pretty early to the smell of my grandpa cooking breakfast. He was making bacon and eggs especially for me, along with his famous coffee. I felt like I was in that commercial where all you can see is my nose chasing after the bacon…I couldn’t get enough of it.

Thinking I would have to find a lighter and wait an hour before my hot water heater would light up…I remembered that the hot water just appeared, like out of no where…and for as long as you wanted. And the water pressure, oh my goodness, I was on cloud nine. There were also clean towels…Did I once live like this?

Later that day, my mom, sister, and I went shopping and it was pretty overwhelming. Just the fact that I could drive (in a personal car) to a store, get out of the car without getting harassed, walk into the store without having someone come out and beg me to enter, browse around, try something on, decided not to get it, and then leave without being harassed…WOW. It was just amazing! And, did I mention the lines?

I bought some clothes, of course, and followed my sister around like a little puppy dog…trying not to get run over. There were several occasions when I just had to stop and stare at all of the varieties of everything…that was when my sister had to pull me to tell me to keep moving. Don’t even get me started on Walmart or Target!

I thought I entered heaven when we finally made it to Starbucks. I was so nervous about ordering that I just stood in awe as my mom ordered me a nonfat eggnog latte. I loved the fact that there were fresh pastries in the window and that my coffee was ready so fast, and of course that the coffee wasn’t Nescafe. When we sat down with out drinks, I looked around and everyone was typing on their laptops or having a conversation or…get this…reading…alone! This is unheard of. No one was facing the outside, harassing the girls that walked by and there were no beggars asking for money. It really was heaven.

That night my uncle, aunt, and cousins joined all of us for dinner. I had asked my grandpa to make pork for dinner and it was wonderful. My little cousin Saren had grown so much and she had gotten so tall. It was also nice seeing my uncle and aunt and sharing stories about living in third world countries…the difference being that they actually enjoyed the Nescafe! I think I slept like a baby that night, but of course there was still the sleep talking in Arabic.

Out of Morocco

The next day we drove to our beach house. Greeting us at the door were my brother and my step dad. I had missed both of them so much. I probably hadn’t seen my brother for more than 17 months because he left on tour before I left for Morocco. He looked like a completely different person, with long hair and football (soccer) clothes. I had missed him so much.

My mom and step dad did so much work on our house. It looked absolutely amazing. As my brother hauled my big suitcases up to the attic, with one hand no less, I got the completed tour and was amazed at all of the work. It looked like something out of a magazine…and I lived there.
My cat Calypso made her appearance and kissed me, making up for all the time I had been away. The biggest surprises about the house were the new bathrooms, the furniture, and the Jacuzzi outback.

We all sat in the dining room and shared stories, even though mine were told much slower than theirs. It was a little hard to keep track of everything and my brother made a joke that he would have to reprogram me…my parents also made the same joke about some of my new political views.

I slept in the attic upstairs next to my sister. Even though we had both changed a lot, it still felt like we were having a sleepover…the way it always did even after our parents got married.

My dad visited and it was really nice seeing him. I always give him a hard time because I don’t hear from him as much as I would like but I hope he knows how much I think about him.

Christmas was spent opening presents all day long, in fact, it was probably one of our larger Christmases. I felt like I got more than when I got when I was little girl. I got some great presents, new clothes, a DVD player from my dad (that I use every single day because my computer doesn’t play movies anymore), and my favorite, the whole series of Sex and the City. I actually cried when I opened it.

My brother and I made a trip out to Seattle so that I could meet up with a dear friend of mine and also so that he could take me shopping. I met up with my friend Bonnie and we had a great time, catching up on old times and just talking about life. My brother took me to the mall and we spent all day together just having fun. I know I have the best brother in the world and I am so lucky. I really love him and I really miss him.

I had a couple of dinners at our favorite restaurant, The Depot. The chef, Michael, made me a special pork dinner, I think he put it on his menu just for me. I brought Michael and his wife Nancy back some Moroccan spices that I hope they enjoyed.

During New Years we had a special guest, a friend of Paris’. He was a nice guy but we all voted and decided to kick him off the island…no offense Paris! The decision was followed by fireworks on the beach.

My uncle Graydon and my cousin Emily drove down with my grandpa. I hadn’t seen them in so long so it was a special treat. The sad news was that my aunt Patty wasn’t there. Emily had grown into a young woman and I barely recognized her. She is so beautiful and so talented and so tall! Why was I the only granddaughter to get the short jeans (genes)?

My mom and I packed up the car and I had to say goodbye. We were going to spend the night in Seattle because my plane left very early the next day. It was very hard, especially because I didn’t want to leave. I knew I had to finish my commitment but part of me just wanted to stay and be with my family. With me crying so hard, my brother buckled me in and said goodbye, hoping that we would be able to get together once his tour hit Spain. And then I said goodbye to my scarecrow, Brett, my step dad.

It took us a long time to get into Tacoma because there was flooding on all of the roads. If we hadn’t had our car, we would have been stuck. My mom and I went to a couple of stores to buy presents for my friends back in Tinejdad.

That night, I finished packing my bags and laid all of my stuff out for the next day. I really didn’t want to leave. I had the hardest time thinking of reasons to actually go back but then I thought of the few good people that were waiting for me and I knew I had to go back to them.

The next morning we took a shuttle to the airport. I tried to exchange some money into Moroccan currency but the woman at the desk said that that “was too exotic for her”…I could only smile and say, “Well, that’s the exotic country I’m going back to.”

My mom bought me a cup of coffee and I promised I wouldn’t cry. We hugged goodbye and I didn’t let her see a tear until I was at the security check…even though I know she knew I was. I waved goodbye and blew a kiss, thinking of the long journey I had ahead and all of the new adventures that waited for me.

Bond…Jane Bond

During my first year in Morocco, it was always hard traveling to other cities because the harassment was just unbearable. But no matter how bad it got, I thought that I could escape back to my little village and people would see me as a person and not as an object. In my little neighborhood I feel safe, I know everyone and they all take care of me. But, that little neighborhood only exists for about two blocks and then it is no man’s land. Even walking the five minutes to my dar chebab is frustrating.

The things I thought I had learned about Morocco and people in my town completely changed this September. I don’t want to go into details but I want to explain why I have a negative attitude towards Moroccan men and why the underlying theme in all of my writing is frustration and longing to go home. Almost three months ago I was walking to my host family’s house at six o’clock at night when three men grabbed and hit me. I got away and I was okay but the emotional and psychological elements hurt me much worse. I was scared to do anything, even going outside was a real life nightmare. My site mates Nate, Summer, and Andy and my Moroccan pal Hussaine helped a lot but it was still really hard.

Now I know this could have happened anywhere and to anyone, but it didn’t, it happened to me. I knew going into Morocco was going to present me with challenges but I didn’t think that this would be one of them. One of my dear friends had this same experience and she decided to go home afterwards.

I felt like I had turned into a completely different person, scared of everyone and trembling when I walked by men. I cringed in large groups and always felt paranoid.

I was glad that I had decided to visit home for Christmas because I found strength there and I decided to come back. I did this with the help of my family, deciding to put me through an intensive self-defense training session for two hours a day for an entire week. My brother’s Taikwandoe/Karate master was an amazing man and he taught me the skills I needed in order to regain confidence, not only physically but mentally. My sister joined me and we learned some really helpful stuff. I can now call myself a “scarf fu” master and unless you want some bruises, don’t even put your hand on me.

I knew I was taking a risk coming back to Morocco. It’s not just because I’m an American in this country, but the fact that I’m a woman in a Muslim culture means that hard experiences should be expected.

I’m doing much better but I still long for home and I count down the days. The harassment really gets to me and I feel like I have so much anger and sadness inside of me. I know some would say that if I’m that unhappy I should just leave, but the thing is that apart from college, this is the first real commitment I’ve made in my life and I want to see it to the end. I know I will face harder things in the future but the fact that I will be able to look back and say, I did that, I know I will find the strength I need.