One man says it well

Education beyond the books
A recent visit to Morocco brings to light a common humanity
Chase GunnellThe Daily Evergreen 02/25/2009

MARRAKESH, Morocco – No carefully crafted word or scenic photograph could do it justice. An oasis for the senses, Morocco captures your mind and tugs at your soul.
Islamic prayer calls echo from mosques five times daily, mixing with the beat of African drums. The taste of kebabs, mint tea, honey and other more alien cuisines. The fragrant smell of incense and hashish, mixed with the scent of sweat, donkeys and motorbike exhaust. The sight of orange groves and golden minarets. The feel of the scorching desert sun overhead and dusty streets underfoot.
It is a place of blinding contrast. There is abject poverty in the market alleys and Ferraris parked outside the Royal Gardens. Women are covered head-to-toe in traditional Muslim dress, walking with men wearing Gucci jeans. Whole chickens are roasted over open flames and are eaten by hand, only blocks from KFC.
As a white American in Arabic Africa, to me, Morocco felt otherworldly. A place far beyond the familiar, marching to a very different beat. But it’s a beat that is entirely captivating.
My Moroccan education began in the chaotic and crowed alleys of Djemaa el Fna, Africa’s largest marketplace. A giant square at the base of the Koutoubia Mosque, the Djemaa is an anthill of activity.
Wandering among the forceful hustling of orange juice sellers, kebab venders, snake charmers, fortune tellers and black market dealers with everything from fake designer brands to leopard skins, it’s a trial by fire. But one that leaves you wiser if you make it to the other side.
Adhan, the Islamic prayer call, rings out over the city every few hours. It’s beautiful when it’s not waking you up at 5 a.m.
Observing a man dismount his bicycle in the middle of the sidewalk, remove his shoes, kneel facing Mecca and begin rigorously giving praise to Allah, I felt fortunate to experience a window into a religion grossly misunderstood by Western society.
Saturday, a bus trip to the Ouzoud waterfalls in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains brought a glimpse of Moroccan life beyond the city walls. Under snow-capped peaks, we passed sheep herders, olive groves, and Berber villages to a place of both astounding natural beauty and wrenching poverty.
The falls themselves are one of the tallest in Africa, sending cascades of water – red with African dirt – into a gorge more than 100 meters deep. But nearby is a collection of vendors and beggars living off a trickle of tourist trade.
On our final day in Marrakesh, Tony – my traveling companion from WSU – and I choose to forgo the 80 Dirham (about $10) cab ride and walk to the airport far on the outskirts of town. Leaving Africa humbly on foot seemed fitting.
Trekking through the desert, down dusty streets and past herds of camels, I contemplated my experiences in Morocco – seeing the Arab and African world up close, living meagerly, haggling for every meal, and immersing ourselves in a place so vastly different from the one we call home. It was an unparalleled cultural education.
The U.S. is at war in two Muslim countries. Our soldiers are dying in distant lands, fighting people who seem foreign and out of touch with our Western reality. We see terrorist attacks on the nightly news and cringe at an entire culture.
Truly capturing Morocco is beyond my skill as a writer. But if there’s one thing I could impart from my journey, it’s that underneath the veil of culture, religion, and dress, the people here are as human as you or me.
Travel brings one indisputable truth: Arab, African, European, American, we are all citizens of humanity. We can recognize our differences – they make life exciting – but we must learn to celebrate this universal union before petty contrasts rip us further apart.

Pup

Dogs in morocco do not wear swanky sweaters, jeweled collars, rain boots or ribbons. Mention doggie boutique and be faced with puzzlement and possibly disgust. The life of a Moroccan dog in the country is rough and unpolished. You survive if you are fit to survive. A dog is on his own in a dog biscuit less world. Some dogs do have owners but most roam around searching for a place to rest or something to eat. However, many are sick, dirty, homeless and emaciated. Without the practice of neutering or spading puppies are born like chicken eggs.
Due to the inherited instinct of territorialism and cruel treatment by children, dogs that are owned by people can be vicious and extremely dangerous. I have frequently come across such hostility on my daily runs or bike rides and had to bend down to pick up a stone for fear of my own safety. Having been bitten before I have adapted precautionary measures. Although wildly frightened of the unleashed roaming dogs I sympathize with them. I know that they are how they are because of the conditions in which they live.
Having a weakness for canine companionship I put out a word to a few friends that if they happen to come across a puppy in distress I just might be interested. This of course was much easier than I really thought at the time and within a week a friend called me about a puppy she saved in the streets. I was to meet her in a few days to get the puppy but due to common illnesses faced by young pups she passed away within a day. A few days later another friend of mine knew of a family that just had a litter of three puppies. I went to go see them and fell for one. I had to wait a few weeks to pick him up as he was too young. A week later the puppies were all eaten by another dog, he also managed to eat a chicken. The same friend found another puppy which he took in for a night and brought it to me the next day. She was beautiful with bright green eyes. I spent the whole day playing with her and thinking of a name. Finally a puppy.
After sincere contemplation I came to name her Veda after the Bhagavad-Gita. Some of the earliest Sanskrit Hindu scriptures. It directly translates to wisdom or knowledge.
The first night however she started getting sick and wouldn’t hold down food. After not eating all the next morning or afternoon I tried to at least get her to drink water. Via syringe I gave her water and chicken broth. Every effort was met with regurgitation. For two days I tried to feed her with the syringe, enticed her with tasty chicken but no improvement. She would try to run away and find a quiet spot to hide and lay. After three days of having her she passed away in the night. I have never personally handled a dead animal but it was heartbreaking.
Life is hard here as it is and taking an animal in without the proper facilities such as a veterinarian nearby it would only be more distressing to have an animal. I have wished I could have done more for Veda but she went down her path regardless. I have called off the forces on searching for a pup. Maybe in a different environment I could try again.