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Writer's pictureKate DiTullio

On the Earthquake in Morocco

"Ana Marrakshia. Now you try to say it."


"Ana Marrakshia." My tongue stumbles over the unfamiliar phonemes and their combinations. My new friend chuckles at me good-naturedly.


"Yes. 'I am a Marrakechi,' said by a woman. Now you can introduce yourself." He wanders off to coo at a cat in my apartment complex.


I did not believe it then, and I'm not sure I'd find anyone that believes it now, that I am a Marrakshia. But I will admit that I used it on more than one occasion to help me make friends with a taxi driver so he would turn on the meter instead of price gouging me.


This memory hits the funny bone of my heart. I can't decide if I want to laugh or cry.


A hundred memories follow in its wake, clamoring at the gates of my heart, begging to be let out into the world and tell their stories.


"Adam" is safe. My tutoring girls are safe. My friends and their children are safe.


I wish the same were true for everyone else in the country that taught me how to be still. To let my heart break as much as it can for the poor, for the downtrodden, for the oppressed. To respect the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed at the same time, because they possess agency and strength the likes of which I cannot understand.



A range of bare looking mountains and a rocky foreground. The sky is blue with puffy white clouds.
Tansifte, Morocco. South of the High Atlas. March 2023

 

There is a fierceness to Morocco. An unyielding commitment to survival and to this land that is home.


There is a gentleness to Morocco. An unwavering welcome to strangers and an eternal invitation to come, sit for some mint tea and pastries.


These and hundreds of other seemingly contradictory qualities are intertwined in an eternal dance that carries Moroccans through joy and sorrow, want and plenty, injustice and justice.


I know the people of this country I love so dearly will do what they always do: survive, welcome others, and love each other as best they can.


A morning picture showing a mountain range (the High Atlas) in the distance. In the foreground are the silhouettes of trees and small buildings.
Marrakech, Morocco. December 2019.

 

If you would like to donate much-needed relief for the Moroccan people affected by the earthquake, I recommend donating to the High Atlas Foundation, a nonprofit that has worked in the region most impacted by the earthquake for over two decades and is a consultant organization for the UN. Thank you for any gift you can give, and for all the texts, emails, and Facebook messages checking in on me and my friends. I appreciate the caring shown by you all.

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