Morocco – Tea and Kindness

I always like to wait a few days after returning from a trip before I post a final piece with my closing thoughts.  Coming off a trip can be a bit like waking from a dream.  You know the dream was intense, but, at first, all the images are blurry.  With time, impressions surface and clarify.  Those are the ones to examine more carefully and, ultimately, to treasure. To me the most lasting impression I have taken from Morocco is not of the landscape, which was so varied and impactful; or the architecture, which was stunning; or the food, which was wholesome and delicious.  It’s of the people; their openness and humor, their smiles, their kindness to us and to each other. 

I suggested in my first post that our initial experience with Royal Air Maroc left much to be desired.  I’ll not go into the details but only say that a flight that was meant to depart on Friday at 9:00PM finally departed (with scant notice) on Saturday at 6:00PM.  As we sat at the gate listening to a litany of false reports about our imminent departure, I watched a large group of Moroccans obviously travelling together after some family event.  There were perhaps a dozen in the group, most in their 50s but a few in their 70s and 80s.  Among the eldest was a tiny man, neatly dressed and sitting in a wheelchair.  As the night drew on, he became confused and tried repeatedly to get up and walk away.  Always, one of the younger members of the group would come to him and speak softly, settling him back in his chair.  More hours passed and they brought the old man water and snacks.  Sadly, he became sick; vomiting into a bag a woman held for him.  She took makeup wipes from her bag and bathed his face, helped him clean his dentures.  The men took him to the restroom.  Yet, he got sicker.  Eventually, an EMT was called and they took him away on a gurney.  I was surprised to see him go alone and I turned to the Iraqi man next to me and asked, “Isn’t anyone from his family going with him?”  He smiled and said, “They are not his family.  They don’t know him.  He was travelling alone.”  I’ve tried to imagine an American offering this degree of care to a stranger.  Frankly, I can’t.

Our needs on this trip were never as dire as that old man’s.  But, whenever we felt a little confused or disoriented, invariably, someone would say, “Can I help?”  When we went into shops, sure we’d be pressed to make a purchase, but whether we did or not, always there was the question – Where are you from? – and a story of a friend or relation that had emigrated to the U.S.  And, often even after the sale was rejected, the offer of mint tea.  I think of those Moroccan emigres and I hope they have been able to maintain that kindness, that open smile, that ready laugh.  I offer the following for them.  Oddly, I wrote this poem more than a year ago, but it couldn’t be more fitting.

Tea

I imagine the land you come from

Indigo sky over ocher stone

Azure sea lapping golden sands

Like the glass tea set in my cabinet

A traveler’s gift never used

Fluted bowls, cobalt blue, translucent as paper

Painted in liquid patterns, molten metal drizzled over glass

Their stems must be held between the tips of two fingers

Contents sipped while sitting at a small table set in the shade of a tree

What do you make of this land you have come to

Rolling hills blanketed in grasses

Dark lakes edged by stones furred with moss

Here, tea is drunk from big mugs grasped full-handed

Or from paper cups with plastic lids easy to handle while driving

Do you find yourself doing the same – drinking tea in your car

Rich with milk, sweet with sugar to fuel tasks that must immediately be done

Or do you still stop amid our churn and sit quietly at a table

Sip mint-scented tea from a glass and remember

Indigo sky over ocher stone

Azure sea lapping golden sands