By Jose
Culture Shock
Going from Valencia to Assa, a small desert town in Southern Morocco, is like when Lightning McQueen went from the lights and cameras of the Piston Cup, to Radiator Spring. Leaving Spain was very hard, as I had made many friends and interned for Villarreal CF for their commercial department.
The closest airport to Assa was Agadir, which is 4 hours away by car. Lachen, the school director, didn’t really send an exact path to get to Assa as the volunteer house didn’t have an address. All he told me was that there is a bus system, which is completely in French and Arabic, or I could pay for a taxi for 4 hours, which was significantly more expensive, but reliable. I decided to go with the latter since I knew no one. On the way, I would see nothing but sand and a horizon that seemed eternal. A couple of nomads walking their camels through the desert would occur here and there, but for the most part the peaceful visual silence presided above all. I arrived in Assa on the very last day of Ramadan. I was dropped off in a taxi station in the middle of town. I was wearing my camo pants, studded earrings, and an oversized hoodie, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. Luckily, Lachen came to pick me up with the other volunteers. He showed me around the town in less than 10 minutes by driving on the two paved roads they had. The biggest culture shock was the bathroom. A simple hole in the ground next to where everyone takes their showers. By day 2, I became used to this method, so no need to worry.
A Geographic Lottery or a Cruel World?
I was assigned to teach English and Spanish at the Centre Michelle Viuechange Prive. All the students were very eager to learn, as seeing a fresh face can reignite a want to learn the language. A couple of the students were very good speakers, but many lived below the poverty line to pay for the school’s tuition. I thought to myself a question in my head, “Is the world just a geographic lottery, or is there a way out for these kids and adults?” I personally grew up in a household of immigrant parents from Honduras. We lived on a below average wage, but we still managed to have the support system thanks to the U.S., but what if I had been born in Assa? There would be no support system for me or my family. Would there be a way out for me? One of these kids could be the next Einstein or Thomas Edison. Some of these adults I teach were genuine mathematicians who have to travel by bus to Rabat, which is a 14 hour one way trip on bus, just to work sometimes, but the world turns a blind eye because they live in a remote area. I taught both English and Spanish to the best of my abilities, but it is a question that I still live with today.
Touch Some Sand and Play Football
I decided the best way to live in the “here and now” was to go on daily runs around the whole town. It was Eid, so everyone was with their families. Funnily enough my run didn’t even last 2 minutes because there were kids playing football on the sandy streets. I was wearing a Brazilian Ronaldo shirt and as soon as I showed up they yelled, “BRAZIL” and started singing Phonk songs. Football being the universal language that it is, I played with these strangers for the rest of the night. Some new useful Arabic words were learned but for the most part, just a simple connection through the beautiful game. My football journey continued as I was invited to play in a local match versus a rival desert town by my Arabic teacher. I became known as “Brazil” on the streets as I walked by simply because I was wearing a Brazilian Ronaldo jersey one day.
A Tar Heel Meets a Blue Devil in Morocco
A Tar Heel who was also a gap year student through the Morehead Cain, asked me if I would be open to traveling with her to have friendly company during her time in Morocco. I obliged and this was the beginning of a Tar Heel and Blue Devil adventure. We began in Agadir for a week and then we met up again in Rabat. Agadir is a beach town on the coast of southern Morocco, while Rabat is the capital. From playing football with strangers on the beach to walking home from a trail with our phones dead back to our hostels, this unforeseen school rivalry turned into a friendship.
Understanding and Final Remarks
There was a very old show that I have become obsessed with called “Centennial.” This series focused on the development of a small town called Centennial in Colorado, beginning from the 1700s up until the 1980s. During one of the episodes, the Americans expanded to the West uneducated in the Native Americans’ way of life. Instead of wanting to learn their way of life, the Native Americans were labeled savage and killed off over the years in the show and in real life. All this because they were seen as different to the settlers’ way of life. No, I am not saying that the U.S. will colonize the Arab world, but one of the biggest reasons I came to Morocco was to become educated in the Arab way of life. Learning, sharing, and coexisting are the best ways to learn from each other’s worlds. With the future of different nations’ geopolitical stances, I think that understanding a way of life feeds to productive civil discourse and resolution.
I decided to enroll in Arabic classes at the school because I always wanted to challenge myself to learn more about the world. Our teacher was tough, but fair. He expected us to learn the whole Arabic alphabet in 1 day, with the letters’ different variations. He said, “Life is too short to learn at a slow pace. You need to know as much as you can.” Not only were his classes helpful, he also talked about his beliefs as a Muslim, which helped me understand their customs on a personal level. He even invited us to eat Tagine, Couscous, and other typical Moroccan dishes at his home.
In return for his Arabic classes, I was his English teacher. Educated in each other’s ways and customs, we joked around, laughed, and became good friends. Even though we had completely different beliefs and tongues, a friendship was born through understanding. I hope that this simple friendship could be a small hope for future tensions around the world. Shukran, Morocco, and until next time!
