Morocco...Somewhere in the Desert

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We made it to the campsite last night around 3am, after a cruise through the desert in 4x4's. We weren't quite sure we'd make it considering our Rover was running on empty, but made it we did, and were greeted with a hot meal made by the local Berbers who are our hosts for the next two days. The big tent was set up as a dining hall and scattered around it were various, smaller communal tents for sleeping. Many in our group attempted to stay up for the sunrise, while I on the other hand could barely keep my eyes open though dinner.

Breakfast was at 9:30 this morning and by 10:30 a majority of the camels had arrived to take us on a ride through the dunes. My roommate Laura, and I picked out a friendly camel who we soon dubbed Abu, and laughed while he craned his next for more scratches behind the ears. Apparently he was one of a kind because most of the other camels were attempting to take chunks out of their admirer's shirts.

The ride itself was interesting to say the least, and it's a good thing Laura and I are extremely comfortable with each other at this point because the camel's rhythm threw us against each other in a way that made an observer think of much more than just camel riding. In fact, the guys in front of us, Matt and Will, commented that they were incredibly secure in the sexuality and thus had no problem riding a camel together.

Our camel ride ended in the nearby village and we were instantly flocked by children speaking 6 different languages in greeting, until we understood and responded. Myself and others bought lollipops and sodas for them, and were rewarded with enormous smiles and gratitude. At first glance the poverty struck me with grief but after spending the better part of a day with them, I have come to realize that the richness in their lives far exceeds my own. Their community, their culture, their food, and their music are enchanting; they live for life, and work to live and for no other reasons. Their perspectives aren't cluttered with the materialistic point of view on which the rest of the world, or rather the western world, turns.

When we left to head back to camp it was as if half the village came with us. The party came to the dunes that surrounded our camp , and the air of the desert began to pulse with the beat of the drums. I sat for a while listening to the music and talking with a boy named Mohammad. We spoke in Spanish because his native tongue was Berber; it amazes me how fluent he is in so many languages at barely 15, while I'm struggling to grasp only my second language!

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