Thanksgiving Feasts, Missing Mail & Fighting Procrastination

November 30

Hey Readers!

Hope that this Sunday is fantastic for all of you! Time for another update from yours truly:

Last time I blogged, it was the day before Thanksgiving (November 26, for my new and/or international readers), and I was pretty unsure of what the holiday would bring, seeing as I am 4,000 miles away from home.

The day turned out to be very low-key, but wonderful! I spent the majority of my day in bed, spoke with my mom over FaceTime, and just reflected on the wonderful time I’ve had here in Morocco.

In the evening, I ended up having a “traditional” Thanksgiving dinner with friends from my program. We had roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, rice, and cornbread for the meal, and pumpkin pie, apple pie, and pumpkin cake for dessert.

It was nice to catch up with everyone, especially because I had not seen some of them during the past three weeks of the Independent Study period. It was also hilarious to play Cards Against Humanity again. If you don’t know what that is, click HERE.

In the other days leading up to now, I have just been fighting the urge to do absolutely nothing, and finish this project.

It doesn’t help that my computer charger died, so I have to budget time carefully on my laptop. I’m finding I’m doing most of my work on my iPhone in Notes and it automatically syncs to my computer.

Thank God for being a snobby Apple consumer!!

I am confident that I will be able to survive until I can get a replacement back at home. You never know how much you take your electronics for granted, until you are limited in this way!

In other news, today marks the last week in this beautiful house. At the moment, I am awfully frigid because of the ability of Moroccan structures to keep cool at all costs. However, I still appreciate every square inch of this place.

One thing I will miss, for sure, is how much effort goes into a Moroccan-style home! The colors and patterns are really something!

But really, WHY IS IT SO COLD!?! Today’s high is 59 degrees Fahrenheit, which is not too bad, but I’m sure the house is around 40! I guess it is still better than that New England weather in the U.S., right?

A week from today, we move into Hotel Darna, the same hotel where we had orientation week. Next week will be for evaluation and presentation of our projects.

I cannot believe that exactly two weeks from this day, I will be back home! I can’t wait to be spoiled by family and pig out on the “good stuff” (food) I cannot get in Morocco!

Finally, yesterday verified the malcontent that I hold for the United States Postal Service, or USPS. After waiting over two months, I finally called to look for a package that my mom sent September 23. SEPTEMBER.

First of all, USPS assured my mom that it would reach Morocco within two weeks. My program coordinator indicated that because of Moroccan mail systems, expect four to six. As frustrating as that was, I could deal.

Everyday, I have kept an eye out for that package and received nothing. Online tracking could only tell me that it was sent from New York. Eventually, the site was updated, and I was told my package cleared customs in Morocco on November 17. After that, nothing AGAIN.

Yesterday, November 29, was the last straw. I decided that I would call the Post Office. Thanks to Skype, I was able to call for free, all the way from North Africa!

After 24… TWENTY FOUR minutes on hold, I was finally able to explain the situation to a person, not a useless automated system.

The woman was extremely friendly and was able to tell me that according to her system, as of November 26, my package was… BACK IN NEW YORK CITY! The anger pulsing through me was so real, but I calmly was able to explain that I was on my way home soon from Morocco.

She helped me file a “return-to-sender” claim, and hopefully, I will receive an answer in the next 23 days, the amount of time it takes for Morocco to investigate the situation.

Hopefully the package is already on the way back home, but I now have absolutely no faith in the United States Postal System. That was far too much stress over a ten-pound box, right?

Everyday is an adventure!

Stay tuned guys! The blog isn’t over quite yet!!

All my best,
Rae

Work Hard & Finish Strong

November 25

Happy Holidays, Readers!!

I hope you all are having a fantastic day. For my New Englanders, bundle up! I hear there is a snow storm on the way.

As you all know, Thanksgiving is tomorrow! Unfortunately, that does not exist in the beautiful North African kingdom of Morocco. The only good news about this, is that I will not be gaining absurd amounts of weight tomorrow! Cheers to staying thin!

My mother would kill me if I did not acknowledge that this one, marks the THIRD Thanksgiving holiday that I have missed in my entire college career. Yes, you heard me correctly. I have not been home for Thanksgiving since my freshman year.

Sophomore and Junior years were spent at Lehigh, as I usually am working, traveling with the Men’s Basketball team up until the day of Thanksgiving. We do not have games on the holiday, however, so I spend my day at Coach’s house nearby. They are like my family away from home.

Bad daughter? I hope my mom doesn’t think so! I do miss home when I am not there, but she makes it a point to drive FOUR hours to Pennsylvania to see me quite often.

At the current moment, I do not know what tomorrow will bring for me. I know that some of my classmates are hosting a dinner at their place to remind us all of home, which I will most likely attend. It won’t be like mama’s cooking, but it will feel good to have a little piece of America, 4,000 miles away.

In other news, I am sad to report, that as things are winding down here, I am finding less and less to report to you all. My usual sassy, vibrant commentary is being restricted by the impending end to my stay here!

My project is trucking along – I had a lovely meeting with my program director and partners to discuss and perform initial edits on the draft I submitted. I am on the right track, but this is a PROCESS! There is still a lot of work to be done, but it will all be worth it in the end.

I am so grateful that I have Al and Maya to work with and bounce my ideas off of. This is going to be an excellent package. I have already seen much of Maya’s work, but the I am so pumped to see how Al’s photo essay turns out. He’s been working his butt off to get a wide range of pictures.

Other than that, I have just been cherishing these last moments in Morocco. I am ready to come home, but a part of me wishes I could bring the best things about this country back to the United States with me. I miss my family, but I am going to miss Morocco too!

In just 17 days, things get real! Grad school applications to finish, next semester to plan for, and of course SNOW! That means no more weather in the high 60’s, no more waking up whenever I please, or just sitting on the beautiful terrace and daydreaming.

All good things must come to an end, right?

I have already begun the daunting task of packing and I have noticed that I have accumulated a lot of stuff. I will be getting rid of some old shoes and other things I will not need, but I can tell that this is going to be really annoying!

The key here is to FINISH STRONG! I am so close!

Until the next time!

Rae

The End of the Road

November 22

Salaam, readers!

Labes? Kulshi mezien? (For my non-Darija speakers: Hello, readers! Are you well? Is everything good?)

Since my last post, not too much has taken place. It was another one of the “rest” days that I referred to in the last post. To be honest, I spent much of it reviewing my draft for this project. Having submitted it in the wee hours of the morning, I did not digest it as much as I wanted to.

Because of the depth and pain involved in this story, I could not get through writing my entire draft with out detaching myself and temporarily forgetting how I felt in the moments I spent in Taqqadoum. I had to rely on my scribbles and factoids; seeing words on paper helped.

For the first time, my own writing broke my heart. After compiling all of our research and quotes from interviews together with my own voice in one place, it was just a lot to digest. I really believe that we were brought to this subject for a reason. Furthermore, Al has done an excellent job connecting with our contacts and taking great photos. I may get chills!

Let’s cross fingers that more than just family and friends will see this article!

Today has been another eventful one for this traveler/ reporter/ student/ girl/ woman/ whatever I am to you! More reporting, taking in sights and coming to peace with the ever-lingering privilege that I have as an American.

I am sad to say that today was my final day in Taqqadoum. I have visited now so many times that I have lost count. I have made friends there and I consider it, in an odd way, my Moroccan home. I was fortunate to have the most amazing host family in the Medina, but the sub-Saharan migrants in that place are so eerily familiar and warm.

I will never forget them, and they have said similar about us. There is something so special about perseverance that persists in dangerous and somewhat hopeless places like Taqqadoum. I have been empowered to help others, take care of myself, use my voice, and never forget where I’ve come from. I have not, and probably will not, shed any tears, but it is an emotional moment for me.

They tell us that in journalism, you cannot get attached; yet, I have, and feel like I could not have done these women OR this story any justice without doing so. I hope that one day that I will be able to return to Morocco and see that my friends in Taqqadoum are doing better, feeling better, and living better.

Work wise, today was more of a Taqqadoum wrap up. With our drafts submitted and stories coming together, we needed to flesh out minor details and clarify quotes. Originally we were supposed to meet with more migrant women to hear of their experiences, but that did not pan out.

We spent all of our time with Viviane, the subject of Maya’s profile and our greatest female asset. We saw her home again, and got more of a feel for her section of the neighborhood. She told us that the reason we could not see the women, was that they would rather be begging for the little money they could, rather than speak to students, even if we just wanted to help them.

It was a sobering thought, but thankfully, Viviane was more than we could ever ask for.

I concluded the trip with a doughnut. This is completely random, but they are just so good! Moroccans have Dunkin’, Krispy Kreme, and everyone else beat: fried fresh and in front of you, followed by hand-coating in real cane sugar. AND they are HUGE. I’m TOO spoiled to be going back to the United States.

Speaking of America, tomorrow will be exactly 3 WEEKS until I am home, until I see my family, and until I get that oh-so-delicious Chipotle I have been craving for the past 13 weeks! At times it seemed slow, but this semester flew by! I blinked and now it is winter.

Of course, I cannot wait to see all of Lehigh people and favorite Lehigh basketball team as well. If anyone is in Connecticut that week, they have a game against Quinnipiac, December 19, for which I will be in attendance, snow-willing!

Get ready, y’all! RAVEN IS COMING FOR YOU!

Stay tuned!

Rae

Returning from the “Trenches”!

November 20

Hello people!

Thank you for being so patient, while I have been getting my story and myself together in these last ten days. I am sure you have all been curious as to what I am currently up to in Morocco! After all, I only have twenty four days left! I am slowly becoming more and more dreadful of leaving Morocco, but family, basketball season and LEHIGH calls!

Happy Lehigh-Laf week to all of my classmates and alumni, by the way. I have yet to acknowledge it on any of my social networks, so I figured this would be a great place to start. Perhaps I am in denial of never having a Lehigh-Laf due to sickness, basketball and now being abroad? Perhaps I am jealous of the fact that our 150th (!!!) meeting of (American) football rivalry is at Yankee Stadium? Who knows?

Enjoy the weekend and be safe, ya crazies!

I can pretty much break down what I have been doing into three categories: project, shopping, and rest. I will start with the most boring and move my way into the exciting, next-generation journalism that you all have heard so much about.

REST: 

So from what I have noticed from my work, Journalism has what I consider to be an “off” and “on” switch. When the switch is “on”, I work non-stop interviewing people, doing research, collaborating with my partners, traveling and trying to find the best way to constrict the longest laundry list of issues suffered by sub-Saharan migrant women into just a few pages. It’s IMPOSSIBLE, but you know I’m still going to try.

When the switch is “off”, I crash. There is finally the opportunity for me to physically and mentally recharge, as well as internalize some of the horrible things that I am forced to face. I am grateful that some of these horrors are not my reality, and that I have the opportunity to take a stop back. It is not just about sleep, but the opportunity to BREATHE.

SHOPPING:

It is every girl’s favorite pastime…and I am no exception. Weirdly, though, I enjoy shopping in the pragmatic sense, not the “I get to spend money on things I probably won’t need” sense.

 In these past few days, I have been focused on preparing for the absurd shock I will receive from the weather in the United States. Here, I am sleeping every night with a heater because it drops to 54 degrees Fahrenheit; days are still mid to high 70’s. Back home, I think the high is around 30 degrees? With some snow? Feel free to correct me, my New Englanders, but I am crying just thinking about it!

SO, I decided that I will start preparing ASAP. I took a nice little trip to the souk and bought a winter coat, a sweatsuit and leggings. I still have to go pick up a pair of boots, but I am playing NO games with winter. I just cannot do it! Of course, I had to do something fun, so I also bought matching Moroccan slippers for my mom and I and I finally bought myself a djellaba. If you don’t know what that is…

(http://media1.mimoza-hijab.fr/704-big/djellaba-dubai-beauty-dore.jpg)

Yes, it is a hooded robe. Moroccans wear them everywhere! Mine is a different pattern, but the shape is the same. It is probably the best thing I have ever worn. Be prepared, Americans. The next time you see me, there is a high probability that I will be wearing it! Also, let’s make this a thing in the states, okay?

PROJECT:

We have reached the most exciting part of the post, everyone. I obviously cannot give you the full run-down of my story because it has yet to be written and it would also defeat the purpose of my project, but this story is going even better than I could have possibly imagined.

Maya and I, and our photographer Al, have been all over the place in these past few days: Taqqadoum, the Association, Casablanca and next week, Marrakech. We have met so many wonderful people, heard heartbreaking stories, but most importantly, seen the resilience and the effort within the migrant community to make change. I have never been so emotionally vulnerable to a topic before.

We are now part of this migrant community, composed of men, women, and youth from all parts of the continent. We have heard their complaints, their hopes and their appreciation for looking at them as more than just “Ebola”. They are our friends. They found organizations. They hold events and discussions for members of the community. They infiltrate trafficking rings when NO ONE will help. They refuse to be silenced.

Powerful times for this student! I have learned so much from many who are even younger than I am. These individuals may have fewer years than I do, but they have so much more wisdom and experience. Maya and I speak daily on how proud we are that we stuck to this story, and are in the process of creating something beautiful, despite the dangerous situations.

Field reporting is a lot of hard work, but I think it is what I enjoy the most about journalism. The writing comes naturally, but putting myself out there has been a challenge. I love every second of it. It is difficult to hear a story of abuse or sexual assault and not be able to understand what it is like; yet our subjects are so willing for us to tell their stories to the world.

Tomorrow, our first draft is due, but I am not even worried. I have the voices of abused, but undefeated migrant women behind me, statistics and documents from governments and NGO’s, the will to tell the whoever will listen what is really going on. This experience in Morocco will not just be a “semester vacation” for me; I will leave this program accomplishing a great deal.

Well, this is the end for now!

Thank you all for your continued readings of my posts! I really appreciate the support, comments, shares and reposts! Hopefully my story has inspired you to come to Morocco, or even just given you a few laughs!

Feel free to comment – I love hearing feedback and what you all have to say, especially my international folk! My stats tracker tells me that I have readers in the United States, North Africa, sub-Saharan Africa and even as far as ASIA!!

Another post soon!

Rae

My Name is not “Ebola”

November 10

Hey everyone,

I bet that title caught a bit of attention! Let me fill you in on my day and things will make a bit more sense to you all.

Today was another normal day of Independent Study for this journalism student. I am doing my best to keep busy and motivated during this completely free period.

After waking up at a later time than usual, I registered for my final semester of classes as an undergraduate student at Lehigh University. It was rather anti-climactic, as it literally took twenty seconds, but nostalgia definitely hit! I remember freaking out as a freshmen as the internet froze and I couldn’t get into any of my classes without having to email professors. Alas, graduation is upon us!

After the positivity of registration and BOMB breakfast of hard boiled eggs and fresh avocado, I was ready to begin the day. I headed back to Taqqadoum with Maya and our photographer, Al.

Before going to the neighborhood, we went to an association created by a Moroccan expatriate and probably the coolest person I have ever met. He grew up in Morocco, studied in France and the United States, and eventually became a political prisoner because he was in the opposition to the reign of the former King of Morocco, Hassan.

After he was done being a BOSS, he founded this association for sub-Saharan migrants. The place we went to today has only been running since August 4, 2014, but he told us that Moroccans in France have been working with migrants since 1986. This place gives free meals, educational seminars and even clothes to migrants, completely free of charge. What a huge humanitarian effort!

After we spoke to the president and were given a tour, we headed to Taqqadoum on foot. The association was in close proximity, in the next neighborhood.

Here is where my title comes in…

About halfway through our fifteen-minute walk, we passed a school. My best guess was primary, as the kids looked quite young. Our contact, Vivian, explained to us that when walking by the school, many of the students throw rocks and trash at the migrant women. The lack of respect runs so deep, that even children feel bold enough to harass migrants.

She also pointed out that every since the epidemic began, some Moroccans have renamed all migrants “Ebola”, regardless of their origins. Just as soon as Maya and I expressed our disappointment, it began:

We were called “Ebola” by young Moroccan children AT LEAST four separate times. It didn’t matter that we were not migrants, but two American girls who happen to share a similar skin color. It didn’t matter that there are still NO CONFIRMED CASES OF EBOLA IN MOROCCO. And it didn’t matter that my name is Raven M. Gaddy, soon to be a college graduate, NOT “Ebola”.

Whoever said “sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is full of it! But I guess I should be glad it wasn’t rocks, right?

I had never felt so much DISGUST, especially at children, in my entire life. No one deserves this treatment, for any reason. The fact that this behavior is left so unchecked, probably because it was learned from the parents, was appalling. This hate is not perpetrated by all Moroccans, but sometimes the poor actions of the few are more visible than those of the many.

I was happy that we were able to brush it off on the surface, but that stuck with me the entire day.

But I guess ignorance is bliss, huh?

The rest of the day was productive. There was no way that some ignorant children would deter us from our job. We met another woman today, who told us her story. The more time we spend with these wonderful people, the closer we are getting to shedding light on something big. I have to keep my mind on the people who do not have the voice they should.

Another adventure tomorrow! We will be going back to the center and to Taqqadoum to make more contacts and hear even more. All of these experiences are worthwhile. Despite the little bumps, I am still so happy!

Hoping for more good stuff and less of the stupidity tomorrow.

Stay tuned,
Rae

Change of Plans

November 9

Hi Readers!

Sadly, I was not able to get to Casablanca for church today. Timing just did not allow for Maya and I. We were both looking forward to the experience, and I hope that I will be able to go another time.

Another early morning for me! I found myself awake at 7:30am for absolutely no reason. While it was annoying, it was the perfect time to catch up on the twenty emails I always seem to get overnight.

Amidst the junk and other irrelevant messages, I received note that my superstar academic advisor, Dr. Jack Lule, had submitted recommendation letters for three out of my six graduate school applications. Furthermore, this was done without me even asking. Lehigh professors, people! I love it!

Here comes the “change of plans” referred to in my title. It was a kick in the butt and complete motivation for what I will be doing for the remainder of today: Graduate School applications. I have already done a great deal of work on all of them, probably half, but there is just something about knowing that the right people have your back. I’ve been working hard, but I can do better.

These trivial confirmation emails made me realize that although it will be fun to go back to Lehigh in the spring, I am most excited for GRADUATION. Wherever I end up, it will be a brand new place, with new people and things for me to do. For better or for worse, I cannot stay in the same place for too long, and my aspirations are always huge.

189 days until I am a Lehigh grad, you guys! Call it inspiration, or call it productivity, I will be putting that next dent in these applications.

Also, tomorrow is a big day for me! The dreaded Lehigh University registration period for seniors is tomorrow at 7am, EST. For me, that is NOON! Thanks, Morocco.

More importantly, tomorrow is the day that Maya and I will be interviewing victimized migrant women in Taqqadoum. My biggest hope is that I can carry the optimism that the Casablanca experience has given me into this interview and that I can give a voice to this group of women. I am here for a project, but it is so much more than that.

I will keep you all updated!
Rae

Up & At It

November 8

Hey people!

I’m sure at this time of day, most of you are still asleep. If you are up at 5am (for my New Englanders) on a Saturday morning, GO BACK TO SLEEP!

For me, it is just after 10am and I have already completed all that I intend to for the day. After going to bed late, or at least late for me, I woke up at 8:30am. I knew that I had two choices: go back to sleep and achieve absolutely nothing the entire day or get up while I still had any motivation.

I’m a firm believer that your attitude first thing in the morning determines your productivity for the entire day.

I chose the latter, threw on some sweats and headed right out the door. I pretty much had nothing except random bits to eat, so I went straight to the vegetable market. I was able to get everything I needed in pretty much one straight shot.

I tell you, there is NOTHING comparable to the amount of food you can get here in Morocco versus what you spend. After about an hour, I left with the following:

Green beans
2 huge carrots
1 cucumber
1 artichoke
3 potatoes
4 apples
2 avocados
1 KILO of dates
8 eggs
Small bag of rice
1 jar of strawberry jam
3 freshly made donuts (breakfast for the roomies and I)

I paid 79 MDH. That is, according to today’s exchange rate, $8.90! With any luck, in the United States, I could have gotten maybe half of that stuff with that same amount.

I now have a full fridge and the feeling of knowing that I can take good care of myself physically, without killing myself financially!

That’s it for me! Back to sleep for a couple of hours. I think I’ve earned it!

More later or tomorrow (who knows what today will bring).

Peace
Rae

Home Sweet Home (Kinda)

November 7

Greetings from Casablanca, readers! I am writing this post on the train home.

Maya and I have been on a wonderful adventure in the name of our Independent Study. Today, we traveled to Casablanca to meet with Reuben, a former migrant, musician and activist in the sub-Saharan community.

We spent over two hours in Cafe de Franz recounting his life, including his experiences in Algeria, Morocco, Ghana, Mali and Nigeria, being stranded in the desert multiple times, and evading violence and other troubles along the way.

To get religious for a moment, I truly believe that Reuben had the hand of God upon him. He escaped things that others have not been fortunate to, stayed to tell his story and has used this opportunity to help as many people as he can. He is covered and blessed and I am honored to have met him today.

After our long talk in the Cafe, Reuben took us into the markets, mostly occupied by African shops and businesses. It is interesting how different the migrant situation is by city in Morocco. While there are still many issues, Casablanca holds a lot more hope than what I have seen in Rabat.

We arrive at the market and OH MY GOSH, you guys! Maya and I were in heaven! There were black hair care products, beautiful handmade cloth, African candy and food, and almost anything that you could want from West Africa.

While wandering around, we encountered a lot of french, but even more ENGLISH! We were greeted warmly and invited into many shops. We had a chance to meet many new people, including a young Moroccan boy whose parents had emigrated to West Africa. His English was excellent and Reuben explained that while he was Moroccan, the boy felt more at home with West Africans.

I felt like a kid in a candy store and Maya and took one look at each other and knew: we were HOME. We will definitely be going back to get our hair done and learn more about the people who live there. MOST importantly, I bought some plantains… For a Jamaican girl, it was like buying gold. The man gave me his card and a very good price! It is something I have not had since was home in August, maybe longer.

Last but not least, Reuben walked us through a park where he used to sleep before he had any place to go, upon his arrival to Morocco. We wandered toward a group of Liberian men who were equally as happy to see us! Reuben told us that it was customary that many migrants, primarily his Liberian friends, went there to chat and see each other.

They asked many questions about where we were from and why we had come to Casa. They even invited us to their church this coming Sunday and, of course, we agreed. Our mothers would be very proud.

All in all, today was incredible. I cannot explain the feeling of feeling so at home, for the first time in awhile. People who look just like me, eating the same food, doing the same things that my family would do.

It is something special that made Morocco and this independent period better for me. Yesterday was a tough one, but I am glad that the sub-Saharan migrants in this country have found a way to persevere and make me feel that there is hope.

I am high off of life and the feeling of finding family. Now, I will be spending the rest of this train ride reflecting.

More for ya soon, my good people!
Rae

Morocco: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Reality

November 6

Hey Readers,

As I sit here at 1:15pm on a Thursday afternoon, all I can ask myself is… WHY? Why does the world have to be like this?

This morning, my classmate and informal partner, Maya, and I traveled to Taqqadoum, a sub-Saharan migrant neighborhood in Rabat. In just a short ten- or fifteen-minute taxi ride, our whole Moroccan experience changed.

We were met by our guide Picas, a man and activist from Cameroon who started an association to assist with the migrants. He walked us through the “dangerous” neighborhood, which teemed with much of the same life that I have already experienced in Rabat. The only difference? A stronger mix of Moroccan and sub-Saharan African and penchant for brutal violence.

After a short walk, Picas introduced us to Vivian, a woman who works in his association. She was very forthcoming about herself and the women she was willing to introduce to us to. As Maya and I sat in the dark, candlelit room, as the landlord cut off their power because of what I will call a “black tax”, we were introduced to a world that no one should ever have to live in: Sexual violence, uncertainty, despair. I knew right then that what Maya and I would be writing will be more than just some final project.

I will not get into the specifics of our long conversation, but I have never been more sure that I need to write this story. The word that I kept hearing and stuck with me was “animals”. Migrants in this country are treated like animals, beaten like animals, abused and looked down upon like animals. Vivian said, “There is no respect for black women here.”

I really think that I have found my calling here in Morocco. Until today, I really didn’t know why I came, other than to somewhat work on my Arabic language. BUT, as the Babe said in the best movie of all time The Sandlot,

“Everybody gets one chance to do something great. Most people never take the chance, either because they’re too scared, or they don’t recognize it when it spits on their shoes.”

I am truly humbled. I am making it my mission to be great, do something good, and learn about myself and my own privilege. As one single, young, African American woman, there is little that I can actually do to prevent what is going on. Despite that, I will use my words and give this story, these women a voice. I can at least do that.

Today was only the beginning, my friends. Stay tuned for so much more. Tomorrow, my classmate, Maya, and I are heading to Casablanca to speak with another migrant activist, and Monday we head back to Taqqadoum. We will meet the women, see the faces, and hear the stories. I am doing what I can to best prepare for it.

Now that I’ve gotten all of my thoughts out, we should backtrack just a wee bit. After all, I can’t leave you all on a somber note!

I am finally in my new house with my roomies, Alex and Libby. It’s the perfect size and mood for the three of us. I love that I am living on my own, cooking and shopping for myself. I’ve made it to the Big League (another baseball joke, fitting for my previous Sandlot quote)!

For those of you who haven’t seen it, here is a little sneak peak (kitchen and other parts not included):

There are pretty much no words that can describe how happy I am in this place. It is peaceful, beautiful and colorful. I will need all of these things for balance with my Independent Study.

After moving in, I spent the afternoon grocery shopping. Words cannot describe the sadness I felt when I realized that not only did I spend less than 10 USD on enough food for the next few days, but also that I will not even be able to find produce of this quality in the United States, even at Whole Foods.

There is just something spiritual about knowing where your food came from, who grew it and that the money you spend goes directly into that person’s wellbeing. I keep saying it, but MOROCCO IS MAGIC, people!

I think that is enough musing for today, yes? Summary for today: Food is great. The Kasbah is great. I am great! Living in Morocco? The jury is still out. In Arabic, we say “nos nos” or “so so”.

Stay well, friends and family. In a mere 37 days, I will be back on American soil.

More soon!

Rae

Blue Cities, Green Stomachs & The End of a Chapter

November 1

RABBIT, RABBIT! And Happy November, readers!

Since another week of total slacking has taken place, let me grace the new month with a new post! Another long one, but I think you will really like it!

Currently, I am writing you from Naget’s house, my temporary home for the next four days or so. Our home stay has come to an end, as we will be beginning our Independent Study Period Monday.

On Wednesday, I move into my beautiful Morocccan riad apartment with Alex and our friend, Libby. Pictures will be forthcoming because the place is UNBELIEVABLE!

It is located in the Kasbah Oudayas, which overlooks the beach and the rest of the city. For those of you who do not know what a Kasbah is, it is a fortified section of a city, surrounded by its own walls. Nowadays it is a tourist spot and luxury place to live for Americans and Europeans, but in ancient times, it was home to whole extended wealthy Moroccan families.

I am really excited to begin the Independent Study. My final pitch has been approved and I will be writing about the epidemic of Sub-Saharan migrant women who are victims of sexual violence. I will share more later when the project actually takes form, but I can tell you that I will be writing a news story, accompanied by a profile of one of these women.

For those of you worried about my safety: PLEASE DON’T BE! I have a cast of thousands at my back, including migrant activists! Your girl will be safe, sound, and changed for the better!

Backtracking a bit, I have been through [that place down below] and back since my last post. When you last read, I was sick, but cheerful about the day and my trip to Chefchaouen and Ceuta!

Well, people, just a few hours after that, Raven Gaddy was at Clinique Agdal, getting an IV and other drugs as a result of her gastritis!

It was a horrible day for me. On top of the sickness, I found out that Moroccan doctors are NOT at all gentle. After being poked three times to find a vein, I had a small panic attack, started hyperventilating and burst into tears. I was glad when it was all over and at least I felt a bit better. I put emphasis on the “bit” because I was too weak to function at that point.

You all know me pretty well, so you can probably guess what is coming next… No? Well, I will tell you!

Twelve hours later my butt was up, out of bed, packed and on the bus to go on the excursion! This was after, of course, I walked all the way into downtown to find a bank after the hospital cleaned me out! You can’t keep a good traveler down, and I wouldn’t let that horror story get the best of me.

On to Chefchaouen and Ceuta!

Chefchaouen was remarkable! I’m just gonna place this picture here to speak for me.

Can you imagine an entire city painted blue? It was probably the most beautiful place I had ever been… or so I thought! I had not yet traveled to Ceuta!

‘Chaouen, I was originally told, was painted blue to keep away mosquitos. THIS IS FALSE. The real reason deals with the rich Jewish history of the mountainous paradise.

As much as I loved the aesthetics of mountain terrain and rich blue color, Chefchaouen was far too touristy for me! I can tell that it was once a perfect, untouched place, but now it is crawling with Europeans and people trying to rip you off at every turn.

That didn’t happen for me, as I am more than aware of Moroccan bartering custom. I was able to get some sick handmade, 100% wool sweaters (New England winter will be cruel), some gifts for my dear little brother Evan, and the satisfaction of knowing that I got wool from THE place in Morocco known for producing it!

After spending a night in M’diq, pronounced “mah-deeq” or “my dick” to my classmates and I, we moved on to the Spanish enclave of Ceuta. Before reaching it, we had to walk about a mile to the border and go through customs.

I repeat, I HAD TO GO THROUGH CUSTOMS TO GO FROM MOROCCO TO (Spanish-controlled) MOROCCO.

It was extremely hectic. There were people yelling, pushing, fighting and what I would like to call “funny business”. Because the enclave is considered Spain, many illegal activities take place there. Undocumented migrants attempt to scale the walls, older women smuggle goods multiple times per day across the borders.

Although we did not see any migrants, we did see these women. Called, “Mulas Mujeres”, “mule women”, these women tie or strap thirty pounds or more of items to their bodies to take across the border. This can include alcohol, blankets, or anything else that is profitable. Some of them are sixty years old or more. It is a heartbreaking thing to witness in person.

For those of you who are interested to see my experience, VICE did an excellent piece. You can find that here.

American passport privilege is one powerful thing. Even our coordinator, Badrdine had trouble getting across the border. We seemed to breeze right through.

Finally we walked our way into Ceuta. It was like I walked back into any other European country that I had ever been. The dichotomy of European custom on African soil blew my mind. We were given a beautiful guided bus tour and 20 EUR for lunch. A few friends and I found a very chill cafe and then went to the beach. My favorite part of the day was being able to wade in the Mediterranean Sea. It has always been a dream of mine!

Overall, this excursion felt like a mini-vacation, but after my hospital episode and the stresses of this program, it was much needed! Shopping, good food, and beach? Life is GOOD.

That brings us full circle, people! I hope you are still here and with me! The end of classes and my home stay marks the ending of this chapter for me! The next one will be ISJ, and finally the chapter of going HOME.

Boy, am I missing it! Happy belated Halloween (it doesn’t exist in Morocco)!

Next post soon, Insha’allah!

Rae