The Ones I'll Remember Most

Dunia and her brother who loved getting raspberries (not the fruit) from me. Dunia is a calm, sweet girl who is content with very little.


This little guy would give me a huge hug and kiss every day. We took this picture after a huge cous-cous meal eaten with our hands. He insisted that I walk him home every day. We shared ice cream on the curb one of the days.

Sumia and I had some great times at the beach. She was quite distraught when I left on Friday.


Buddis was really annoying at first, but somehow we became really good buddies.


Staff and Mona, whom I called Mona Lisa. One of my favorite moments was teaching her relaxation for a week as she was stressin about upcoming tests.

Fatima (far right) was intimidated by water that went over her head until we spent some time together doing swimming lessons at the beach. I have a large scratch on my cheek as evidence of her fear, displayed in a frantic scramble to grab onto anything that wasn't water.


l to r youssef, hechem (from previous cous-cous celine dion post), marouan, break dance man and ammin. We had a lot of good times together.

Marouan and I could not seem to stop hugging each other and crying as we said goodbye on Friday. We had a blast during the world cup going to cafes, ordering cokes and watching the games together. Somehow we were always cheering for opposite teams, which made the anticipatory banter for the next game even more exciting. He has a gift with drumming and making people smile with his goofy antics. We shared many laughs together as he entertained the kids on the guitar, which he used more as a drum than anything else. It's a miracle that we got as close as we did because he speaks zero French and I speak zero Arabic. Somehow we always understood each other, though. He was definitely the hardest to leave.


I could never remember this guy's name, so I just called him sadiki (friend). He did the same with me. For a 9 yr. old he can dance like a champ.


Omar's mom is deaf and mute and I think that's the reason he's such a clown. His gestures are always exaggerated and he can contour his face into unbelievable expressions. He has an adorable raspy voice that makes him sound like an old man who's smoked a few too many. We played a lot of soccer together on the beach and I buried him a lot in the sand.


Asmaa (left) is the first kid I talked to at Amesip. She was very warm on my first day, inviting me to play soccer with her. Her name was easy for me to remember and so we became friends very quickly. As the kids were singing a farewell song to me yesterday about how much they loved me and didn't want me to go, it was making eye contact with her that sent the message straight to my marrow. Arabic names are so hard for me and I felt like a doofus asking over and over, so i don't remember the girl's name on the right. She hardly ever spoke, but would smile a lot when I'd talk to her.

Asmaa (far right) speaks a fair amount of French and a little bit of English. She is a bright girl whose favorite English phrase is, "Oh My God!"

Sara (right) gave me a kiss every day. She liked to play with my hair and dress me up like a girl.


The bald one is Aziz, who is known as the clown of Amesip. Many a dance party were made more lively thanks to his moves.



Fatima is holding the guitar. She's another one that insisted upon me walking her home every day.

My previous posts may give the appearance that coming to Morocco was an excuse for me to dink around listening to music and going to the beach. Well, it was. But, it was also a wonderful opportunity for me to connect with this organization, its staff and especially the children. I can't exactly say what I've done for them, but if the party, hugs, tears and gifts are any indication of meaningful connections having been made, my efforts to make a difference for a marginalized population were not in vain.

My Darling Host Family

Sharaf Deen is my chubby 6 yr. old host brother obsessed with Ben 10 and Tom and Jerry. I've spent some quality time with him laying on the couch watching cartoons and imitating super heroes. He is quite the creative soul and I would regularly give him my gutiar and be entertained for hours by his mix of songs in Arabic, French and English.

Riham is his adorable 5 yr. old cousin. She took a while to warm up to me, but we have good times whenever she's around now.



Khalid (red) is my extremely laid-back host dad. He's an anomaly in Morocco and probably many other places too as he cooks, cleans, does dishes, laundry, etc. and he's a MAN. Whoa! Since I learned a few Arabic phrases he's taken to speaking to me only in Arabic. We share a lot of laughs. Abdulrafour (spelling...) is the nephew who's been staying at the house. We talked a lot of soccer during the world cup.


Assia, my host mother, speaks quite a lot of English as she teaches Arabic to American students. She's given me numerous inisights into Moroccan culture and Islam. She had just had Yessir when I arrived and according to tradition she was not to leave the house for 40 days. I think her cabin fever was quite extreme, so we bonded frequently at nights as she was desperate for some adult conversation and news from the outside world. She's made me feel very comfortable in her home. But, the comfort's come to an end as I'm leaving within the next two days. Thanks for all the great times, fam!

Where Da Freaks At?

I tentatively raised my hand to affirm my freakishness to Missy Elliott as she posed this soul-searching question to the thousands of people packed into the beach side venue in Casablanca who then proceeded to get their freaks on with her. The 5th largest mosque in the world loomed large in the background with its bright green laser pointing the way to Mecca. David and I had a blast at this two-day music festival. We caught numerous trains just as doors were closing (yes!) and stayed with some 'friends' we'd spoken to for about 5 minutes. Moroccan hospitality will never stop being surprising.

The best band whose name I can't find as somehow I'm being denied access to the festival website was on Saturday night. Their set included two trombones, saxophone, guitar, flute and drums. It was such a melange, going from rap style presentation to jazz to heavy metal. They played a medley that started with Rage Against the Machine, then continued to include 2Pac, Snoop Dogg, Guns N' Roses, Dr. Dre and ended with Empire State of Mind. Free music festivals are definitely on my awesome list!

And Yet Another Festival

The Festival de Alegria music festival gave me an excuse to get back to Chefchaouen, one of my favorite spots thus far. Chaouen's location in northern Morocco means that more Spanish is spoken, a welcome relief to racking my brain with French and Arabic. We visited the Akchour waterfalls while we we there. It involved some adventurous hiking and unbelievably clear, cold and colorful water, a welcome respite from the 100 degree heat.

My favorite group was probably Ojos de Brujo (witch eyes), a Spanish group that had a flamenco dancer as part of their percussion ensemble. Barry came in a close second as he threw down some sweet Moroccan rap/reggae.

Driver's Dream

Omar loved driving these roads and I loved riding with him driving these roads.

Kasbah

These Kasbahs are basically fortified cities with a very communal feel. Omar grew up in a similar one with 60 plus family members, eating in shifts based on age and sex. They seem to grow right out of the ground as they're constructed using the closest dirt.

Could You Slide Over a Bit, Please?

This is the taxi I ride to work every day...well, sort of. Seven people are packed into a five-person vehicle in 90 degree humid heat and for some reason, all of the handles to roll down the windows have been removed. Supposedly passengers can never decide on an ideal window situation, the drivers get annoyed with the bickering and so take matters into their own hands. I've ridden in a taxi nearly every day of the last 3 months and have only been in one that allowed me the liberty to roll down my window, probably because it was some dude posing as a taxi driver. The taxis have become my internal peace indicator because I've noticed that on good days I am not bothered at all by having enough sweat running down my back to run a saw mill, smelling morning breath and B.O. and listening to recitations of the Koran, but on bad days I picture our taxi doing this:

I Have A Liver and Hair and Elbows

Waking up on the beach is nice. It's even nicer when you have this to look forward to:

Patrice put on a KILLER concert. His way of doing reggae is fresh, spiritual and left me grateful for every part of my body. Gnaoua music was the focus of the festival in Essaouira. It's used as trance music. Give it a listen and you'll see why. The fusion stuff was rad. I definitely needed the wild hippie dancing to cure me of the fanny pack blues, not that fanny packs make me blue, but that when they are stolen while holding my phone and camera, I get kind of upset. At least I didn't get beaten with batons like Badr and Hisham or have my wallet stolen like David. (dudes pictured below) The bloody sticky fingered youth made a killing off of our group.



David and Youssef are really coming on to each other in this picture. We played some soccer on the beach, then danced it up like the wild Africans we are.

Grandpa, Tell Me 'Bout The Good Ol' Days

Grandpa Hess was born in 1918. As I was recounting the Moroccan farming techniques to my dad he was flabbergasted and commented, "That's how Grandpa would do it when he was a kid." That was, like, you know, a really long time ago. The wheat is harvested by hand with a sickle, strapped on the backs of donkeys and brought to the middle of town where it is thrashed. I'm shown here (white t-shirt) with some of my friends I made while having a cross-cultural farmer bonding experience. It felt good to let them know that America is not just a bunch of skyscrapers and office buildings, but that if I were home right now, my dad would probably be swindling me into helping him out with the harvesting duties. The difference is that I would be sitting in an air-conditioned tractor, listening to talk radio and probably enjoying a free game of golf the next day.

A Pic of Some Childrens

(l to r) Aisha, Sokaina and Fatima. Aisha is quite shy, but we've had some good times together. Sokaina is the student with whom I feel most connected. It's probably because she speaks a fair amount of French and is open-minded enough to question the status quo. This seems to be a rarity here. We have great discussions about a wide variety of topics. Fatima is excited to be learning English and decided one day to repeat her newly learned phrase over and over and over: "F@#$ Off!" For some reason I couldn't stop laughing at her. The positive reinforcement went a long way as she can now be heard uttering this phrase quite frequently. It's a good thing that swearing in a foreign language isn't really swearing, huh?

Party Like a Rock Star

The 40 dollar guitar I bought a month ago is probably now worth millions. It has been played by Steven Tyler, after all. He's the lead singer of Aerosmith...also the man with the biggest mouth and most feminine look on the planet, both of which are totally cool with me. So how in the world did he get his hands on my guitar? Well, it's a little different than you might expect.

My laid-back buddy, fellow American and volunteer, David and I were meeting some of his students at the school where he teaches. We were planning to go to the beach and what is a trip to the beach without some time spent chillin' on the guitar? Exactly. We arrived at the school, guitar in hand, only to find that there was a gigantic party happening. All 4 million students and staff (approximate number) were packed into the auditorium for a preliminary party before the party. The air had the typical mixed smell of body odor and perfume, common to any decent concert. All in attendance must have had some ungodly sugar fix before arriving, too. They were hyped.

The director spotted me with my guitar and asked if I would like to perform for everyone. David said I looked like I'd been punched in the face, but holding true to my 'Why Not?" philosophy of life, I obliged. When they asked what my name was I told them with a bit of choked back laughter, "Steven Tyler." My palms were sweaty by the time the MC got on the mike and excitedly blasted, "blah faljf blah ldioaul blah, Steven Tyler!!"

The audience loved me as evidenced by their mobbing me on my salmon-swimming-upstream-esque effort to exit. Needless to say, I now cannot walk anywhere in this area without being solicited for autographs and a chance to play my guitar. I've signed shirts, hands, pants, discarded candy wrappers, school notebooks, all while the kids scream my name wildly. I laugh to myself every time some random stranger on the street calls my name, which is a daily occurrence.

Music is a great equalizer when it comes to language barriers, too. I carry my guitar with me to most places because I've found that I meet infinitely more people that way. We swap songs and sometimes get back together to jam. It's definitely provided a lot of fun memories with strangers and we have a load of fun with it at work, too, doing spontaneous harmonica, guitar, drum and dance sessions. My chubby 5-yr. old host brother now holds hilarious nightly concerts as well. Maybe all these memories are where it's transformed itself into a million-dollar prize.