A Word About Faith

9/18/09

I live at the end of an alleyway off a major street in the Medina of Rabat, Morocco. Officially the street is called Rue Boukrane, but all the volunteers refer to it as "Vegetable Street." As I exit the house each morning I can hear the merchants beginning to set up their stands. They suspend tarps and sheets above their small squares of street, lay out boxes and baskets of fruits, vegetables, and herbs. I enjoy the quiet, knowing that an entirely different street will greet me when I return after work.

Sure enough, upon my homecoming there are people everywhere and I must maneuver skillfully through the crowd in order to avoid disturbing my co-pedestrians of Vegetable Street. Common obstacles on this daily course include tiny old women half my height hobbling along alone, old men pulling their merchandise in heavy carts behind them, fully veiled women dragging children with backpacks to school, and countless djellaba-clad habitants of the Medina simply trying to arrive at their next destination. Hagglers bargain for prices of eggplant and dates. Women bake Moroccan bread and pancakes. Merchants weigh freshly caught fish, cows' hooves, and live chickens while their assistants sweep small rivers of blood and other mystery liquid down the sewers. A myriad of stray cats line the walls, hunting for scraps and avoiding the uneasy footfall of Western tourists and the heedless speed of bicycles and mopeds.

"Pardon," I say to the fish merchants sharpening knives and sweeping fish remains into the drain directly in front of the alley where I live. Every day they smile and let me pass, still confused to see a Western girl living in the Medina. A demain mes amies.

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It is extremely rude to take pictures of people here without asking their permission first. In fact, you are putting your face in danger of being slapped and your camera in danger of being destroyed if you do. At the very least, you'll be very passionately yelled at in Arabic. To many here, photographs are related to the worshipping of idols (remember that Dutch cartoon and that English teacher with the teddy bear that got everybody so upset?) and they do not take kindly to Western tourists "stealing their souls." Because of this, it is extremely likely I will not take any photographs which accurately portray life in the Medina. I hope my description above has helped you to imagine what the streets are like where I live. I took the picture above on a smaller street as Viola and I took a shortcut through the Medina to the beach. I was lucky to capture the street on a moment when it was empty.

The people here have an unwavering and dedicated faith I have never seen before in my life. Every single night prayer mats are laid out in front of the Mosques for the overflow of people praying. This entire nation has been fasting for a whole month. Businesses are closed during the day, trains and buses are all off schedule, the beaches are empty because swimming might cause you to swallow some water. Can you imagine anything making it worthwhile for businesses to lose money for a month in the West?

I do not know enough about their faith to say I agree or disagree with its teachings. It is true that I am sometimes met with intolerance from passersby - but the people here are more committed to their faith than I have been to anything in my entire life. Time and again they "walk the walk" with pride through rough terrain and bad weather.

Is there anything I am willing to starve for?