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.