Morocco Diaries: Part One
Peace, Blessings… and Immediate Parkour
Peace and blessings, everyone.
I pray each of you are in the best of health and īmān.
Over the past year, I stepped away—not because I had nothing to say, but because life asked me to become quiet for a while.
When I returned to Morocco after two years, I was so motivated to post frequently and re-enter the social media world.
That quickly changed.
Yet again… it’s been a couple of months.
Sometimes Allah places us in seasons where we are meant to listen more than we speak, to heal more than we explain, and to trust more than we understand.
Alhamdulillah for every season.
Today, I write to you from a place I have dreamed of living since I was five years old.
Morocco.
Now…
Before any of you picture romantic sunsets over the Atlas Mountains, peaceful camel rides, or me gracefully sipping mint tea while gazing thoughtfully into the distance…
Allow me to lovingly dismantle that image for just a moment.
My first few days in Morocco can best be described as a beautifully orchestrated series of events in which Allah continuously reminded me that I was absolutely not in control.
And honestly…
Alhamdulillah.
I arrived with gratitude in my heart, hope in my suitcase, and absolutely no clue what Allah had in store for me.
Friends…
Nobody warned me about that sun.
Within what felt like fifteen minutes, my lips had transformed into something I can only describe as “Frankenstein lips.”
I don’t know whether they were sunburned, staging a protest, or attempting to become independent life forms, but every reflective surface became my enemy.
I looked in the mirror.
“…Astaghfirullah.”
I looked again.
“…No, seriously… Astaghfirullah.”
Then came the day before Eid.
Then came the roads.
👀
It was at that point I began to realize Allah was about to humble me in ways I never even knew I needed.
Mind you…
I already considered myself a pretty humble person.
Wallahi…
life looked at me and said,
“Hold my tea.”
Then it just started slapping me…
and slapping me…
Astaghfirullah.
Now, before anyone writes to correct me, let me say this…
Moroccans cross these streets with the confidence of people who have clearly mastered a secret I was not informed about.
I…
had not.
I stood on the sidewalk whispering,
“Bismillah…”
One step.
A moto appeared.
“Dammit.”
Another step.
Two more motos.
“Astaghfirullah…”
Somewhere around this point my internal dialogue completely unraveled.
“Danger…
danger…
haterr bzaf…
Bismillah…
safi…
let’s try this again.”
Another step.
More motos.
At this point I was fairly certain I was no longer crossing a street.
I had unknowingly entered an Olympic qualifying event.
Crossing the damn street wasn’t walking.
It was Immediate Parkour.
(Bernie Translation: The involuntary athletic event that begins the moment you attempt to cross a Moroccan street before Eid.)
I was dodging wingnuts on motos like Evil Knievel while my lips looked like they’d been flambéed.
Somewhere between dodging motos that seemed to materialize from dimensions previously unknown to science and trying to preserve what little dignity I had left, my brain offered one final completely rational thought…
“Alex DeLarge is about to come around that corner.”
And as if that wasn’t enough… somewhere in the distance I became convinced a Moroccan Jeffrey Dahmer look-alike was going to emerge.
Now, before anyone thinks I completely lost my mind… the man was real.
He just happened to resemble a Moroccan version of Jeffrey Dahmer.
And for reasons known only to Allah… he kept emerging from random corners calling me.
One street.
There he was.
Another corner.
There he was again.
I crossed another road… survived three more motos…
…and there he was.
By this point, between the heat, the motos, my Frankenstein lips, and the fact that I’d already entered an Olympic qualifying event known as Immediate Parkour… I wasn’t taking any chances.
Let’s just say my defense spray made a guest appearance.
Alhamdulillah… no one got sprayed.
All I know is that the entire scene felt less like crossing a street and more like I had accidentally wandered onto the set of a film where everyone except me had already read the script.
Alhamdulillah.