If you take a look at my social media feed from the last five months, you'll see a lot of red tones. It makes sense; Marrakech is known as "the Red City". And you could be forgiven for thinking that Morocco is mostly red in hue, especially if you saw it only through my social media feed.
But Morocco is far more varied than my Marrakechi posts show. Within its borders lie snowy mountains, forbidding deserts, sprawling beaches, and yes, green pastures.
We must have passed a hundred evocative pastoral scenes on the way to the Speech and Debate competition in Ifrane this weekend. Rather than try to capture them in a picture taken from a moving van, I resolved to make some of them come to life for you with my writing.
1. The man and woman walk, burdened with what look like heavy but could merely be bulky loads, toward the hill that blocks our view. A small footpath guides them between green blocks of pastureland. The sun stretches its rays over the hill, lighting their way a little longer. They are not hurried in their pace. Their destination is sure, and it waits for them.
2. A woman stands alone on a low ridge that runs parallel to the highway. Her djellaba (a long, hooded outer garment worn by both men and women in Morocco) tries to pull her forward, in step with the wind's calling. She stands resolute. Is she waiting for a person? An animal? She does not give up her secrets. Like the wind, I merely cause her clothing to rustle a bit as I blow past her. She firmly remains.
3. A child plays with a shepherd's stick. I hesitate to call it a crook, and thereby give you the wrong picture. It is more like a cane that has a flat top, but it too long to use for walking, than a traditional Western storybook shepherd's crook. The child is swinging the shepherd's tool in a manner that calls to my mind Jedi knights with their lightsabers. He may be thinking the same thing, or he may be fighting imaginary Crusaders. Regardless, clearly a great battle is happening in his eyes. A taller child (a sibling?) approaches him: a worthy opponent, perhaps.
Green Morocco and Red Morocco. I like this distinction. The former is more like home for me. While there may not be trees everywhere, there is grass growing unbidden and unaided. The familiarity of it is comforting, and yet I don't despise Red Morocco for its strangeness. It, too, has its beauty and comfort. Small kindnesses, such as a bowl of water or some food left for the stray cats, mean something more here.
I am sure there are other sides of Morocco that I have yet to explore. Hidden gems, new colors, new kindnesses await me and all those who look for the good in this world of ours.
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