The reason we ended up going to Morocco in the first place (rather than any other random country) is that we knew exactly one person there.
A long time ago, our car broke down when we were headed over the mountains for Thanksgiving in West Virginia. My parents made a few phone calls and found some folks who were wiling to host us overnight. The next morning, these friends told us that “Zeke” was coming over for breakfast. With a name like that, I expected to meet an older, white, West Virginian. When a tall, young, Moroccan walked in, I was shocked. It turned out he was there on a Fulbright Fellowship (why they sent him to Elkins, WV, I will never understand). The locals had a hard time with his name, and “Zeke” was about as close as most could get (our hosts could absolutely manage “Sadik,” they just thought it was hilarious).
Sadik wanted to know more about American culture and see a different place, so he asked if he could come stay with us over Christmas break. He had left his wife and baby son behind in Morocco, and he became quick friends with our baby.
He spent a little over a week with us, and after that, we loosely stayed in touch. He regularly would say, “When are you coming to Morocco?” and we would say, “Oh, one of these days.” I think he was very surprised when we told him we were really coming!
Sadik teaches English at a language school, as well as serving as the principal of a school in the countryside outside of Marrakesh. We met up with him at his advanced English class.
He invited us to chat with his students, to give them practice in English. They were delightful. One told me that she was excited about Christmas (“We don’t celebrate it in Morocco, I just like the vibe.”). Her favorite Christmas movie is Home Alone.
Emily asks great questions. She asked a group of girls, “Are you friends with boys?” (“It’s complicated.”) and inquired of some why they weren’t wearing a headscarf (they will when they’re a little older).
Petra asked everyone about their cats.
The next evening, we went to Sadik’s apartment to meet his family. His wife, Fatima, brought out tea, smoothies, water, four different kinds of desserts, soup…so much food! She was very kind and friendly, although we couldn’t communicate very well. She mostly speaks Arabic, which she teaches at a middle school, but Emily was able to talk to her in French a bit.
The kids were a hoot—Omar (15) is very into soccer, but he and Silas connected a bit over drawing and manga. Samia (9) and Khadija (6) were friendly and clearly intrigued by our presence. Petra, usually very shy, really enjoyed them.
After a bit, Sadik suggested that we go hang out “at the gas station.” It sounded kind of random, but we shrugged and went along with it. It turned out that the “gas station” had a nice cafe, a park, a playground, and a mosque. It was a beautiful place to hang out. A waiter from the cafe took orders for drinks and brought them to our benches next to the playground, where the girls were all climbing around together.
We had done a lot of tourist things on this trip, and the authenticity of, well, this is just what a regular Moroccan family does on a Sunday evening was wonderful.
My only regret about the trip was that we didn’t plan more time in Marrakesh. I didn’t love the city, but Sadik wanted to show us more, including the village where he teaches, and I wish I could have gotten to know his family better. Next time, inshallah!
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