البطل of the Sahara
Today, our journey went from this …
… to this …
… to this:
We have come south in Morocco to THE SAHARA where, in a few hours, we will wake up early to see the sun rise over the dunes. It was an epic, nine-hour drive … that refreshed us, oddly, as we barreled down the roadway peppering our translator and driver for Arabic words, stories from their childhood, and education about the people and places that passed by.
For now, I write this by firelight in the the living room of a former Sahara nomad.
Glory.
(We are not currently sponsored by Under Armour.)
We learned so many things today — how nearby farmers seek to bless their harvest, that Aisha Kandisha is an ever-present character in Berber childrens stories, what one village is called The Keeper and why another one is called The Rock, about The Festival of Engagement that has ties to a mythic tale resembling the warring tribes in Romeo and Juliet, and how — in an arid region — “water is life.”
I’ve found that I don’t LEARN languages as much as I MIMIC them. I love to hear folks speaking in Arabic … then try to imitate them. Usually to roars of laughter.
Today — Ismail our translator regaled us with the story of how a local village seems to win Morocco’s national volleyball championship every year. (!) I asked about the Arabic word for “championship.” Then asked about the Arabic word for “champion.”
Well, that did it. For the last few hours of our trip, I yelled “BATAL AL SAHARA!” whenever I could. To more roars of laughter.
Today my journey went from preschool, to Sleepy Hollow Pediatrics, to the middle school, to Target, to collecting my husband from the scene of a fender bender with a secret service agent. :) The pictures I could take would not be pretty. BUT somewhere in the middle of the day, I checked my phone and saw your gorgeous pictures and was SO inspired. About the same time, I saw a car parked in front of our house, the occupant having walked up the street to the mosque for worship. Hanging from his rearview mirror was a Moroccan flag. Men passing by were speaking Arabic. It makes me smile to think of the echoes reverberating on these different continents. . . . makes me see things differently and wonder how you will see things differently when you return. So thankful to have your blog to keep in touch with you all during your incredible journey and to receive inspiration for ours.