I guess since the only people that read this are family andfriends I should probably preface this whole thing with saying that everythingis fine and I am alright, but this story is just too good not to share. Acouple of weeks ago on a Tuesday I was walking home from the café when theeguys that were walking on the other side of the street started walking towards me.This in Morocco is not out of the ordinary they normally just walk up to me andsay something crude and I just continue walking and try not to let it get tome. This time it was different one of the guys began lifting his fist andbefore I knew it, it was headed in the direction of my face, so like any normalperson I duct. His fist just braced the side of my face ( no bruises or nothingso no worries). As I tried to move my face away from his fist I tripped andfell to the ground the other guys that were with him began to laugh and theyall walked away. I got myself off and brushed myself off, and looked up to find4 old men just sitting and watching and did nothing. I readied myself andcontinued the rest of the half a mile walk to my home. As I got closer to thetrain tracks I was not able to hold it in any long and began to cry. One of thelocal Drunks who regularly hangs out by the train tracks ran over or welldrunkenly hobbled over and asked if I was ok. I told him I was fine and hewondered off. I made my way into the house and crawled into bed until it wastime for me to catch the train to El Jadida the next day for my regionalmeeting.
I wishthat I could say that I was surprised by this, but that is just the way my townhere in Morocco is. People that look different, women, or foreigners, just gettreated like this. All I could think of after this happened were of the peoplethat just stood around and watched and could have not though twice that thismay not have been such a nice thing for these guys to do or care to help me inany way. As I grew more and more angry about what had happened I kept thinkingabout that scene in the West Wing after a plane with a friends of Bartlett’sgets blown up. Bartlett is offered a proportional response and can’t believethat is all there is go do. Bartlett tells Leo that when Rome was a super powerall one had to do was say the words “I am a Roman” & they could cross anyland unharmed. Bartlett now being the leader of the current super power wantedthe same protection for his people. There would be such fear in the concept ofharming one of his people that people would never think of it. Leo his righthand man reminded him that that is NOT how a super power acts. As I was gettingpunched in the face, in a country that had invited me and asked me for help. Icould not stop to think where was my protection?
Anywayafter spending a week with new friends, a lot of support from wonderful people,and a few good moments with Moroccan people I was able to just get over it. My mind stopped thinking of the West Wing video and started thinking of the SNL one.
The next Tuesday my site mate andI were on one of our community walks when this boy started walking up to her inan aggressive manner. She just stood and watched as this boy came at her. Igrab her shirt pulled her into the street and shoved the guy away. His friendsall got up to flow up and she and I made our way cross the street to our localOstrich owner. J was amazed at how fast everything had happened. As we made ourway back home (our wonderful safe haven), J ask “Is someone going to getpunched in the face every Tuesday?” I guess it looked like I punched the boy inthe face but I swear I only shoved him in self-defense. None the less so farTuesdays have always had a twitch of violence. May it be getting hit by abasketball, getting punched in the face or shoving someone else. Tuesdays arejust a crazy day to just try and handle.
…. Don’t get me started on Friday’s holy days my -------.
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