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