Essaouira Morocco


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Africa » Morocco
June 29th 2010
Published: August 23rd 2010
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On the bus from Marrakech to Essaouira
Panorama Fishing boats in the harbour

Day 104 - 109 Essaouira

Crossing the lines of Personal Space.

There was a fence between us. It may as well have been an ocean. Two different worlds with perhaps, 2 metres between us. I was on the inside of the fence on the front terrace of a restaurant. A finished vegetable tajine and a lot of bread left in the basket, a pot of mint tea with a glass served on a silver tray were on the table in front of me. My meal only cost 4 euro (Aust $6). He was maybe 8 years old, standing on the other side of the barrier, a little dirty and dishevelled, well-worn clothing, and with the softest of voices, barely reaching over the top with his hand held out holding a pack of tissues. He was speaking French. Although I don't understand too much of the spoken language, his body language spoke volumes. It's common for the children to earn money by selling these small things to tourists.

So there he was looking at me, and I at him. He gestures with his hand, his fingertips touching together, with a small motion towards his mouth that is a universal sign of wanting food.

I remember back in the early days of travelling, probably in the first week of arriving in Costa Rica. I was in a bad place in my mind... distrusting, cynical, angry at the world around me and devoid of all, but the basic emotions. Sitting in a cafe drinking bad, expensive coffee and eating some sort of sweet pastry. A young boy walks in to the cafe and moves from table to table of tourists asking for money because he was hungry. Everyone gave him the same perfunctory look and response. He approached me but because he looked like any normal child, I dismissed him without really seeing his need. I watched him approach the table next to me, a local businessman sat there. He said a few words to the boy in Spanish and the boy sat at a nearby table. The man spoke to the waiter and a few minutes later a plate of food was delivered to the table. The boy devoured the food that was put in front of him. I asked the man why he did that instead of giving money. He said that if someone is hungry and asking for food, it is better to feed them than to give them money. If they have money, others will try to take it or he will spend it in the wrong way. I was so ashamed of myself. I have cried about this since. Not because of the boy's hunger but because of my lack of compassion and suspicious nature. Because of what I had become. I had to change.

There was another time in China. I was in a restaurant, when a man, terribly thin and troubled, sat across my table from me. The distance between us was greater than that of the table. He didn't say or do anything but just looked at my food and then at me. If we made eye contact he would quickly look away as though custom dictated his actions. This went on for 10 minutes or so and I started to feel a little uneasy. There was a young couple nearby. I could ask them in English (because most young people under 25 in China can understand and speak fairly well) if they could find out what, as I suspected, this man wanted. The young man was very helpful, and through a lot of questions from me and replies from the thin man, I learned that the thin man wanted some money for food. Memories of the boy in Costa Rica came back to me in a head rush. I knew what I could do. So I asked the young man to tell him that I won't give money but that he can order something to eat in the restaurant. It took some time for the thin man to understand this new direction but I had to take his arm and lead him to the counter. I asked the girls to give him whatever he wanted. Again, this new development was alien to him, and to all in the restaurant, and it took a while for him to decide. I believe that he hasn't had much choice in his life. And now he was presented with an entire menu!

A definition of personal space: The physical space immediately surrounding someone, into which any encroachment feels threatening to or uncomfortable for them.

There is a personal space, a bubble, we all possess that often changes, varying in thickness and density. It depends on our experiences, who and where we are, who is around us at any given time. It is a protective shield. In general, and there are always exceptions to the rule, tourists have a very thick and dense personal space, especially in a very foreign land. They stay together, in a comfort zone, to help them 'feel' safer. They visibly shudder when someone approaches them for the purpose of trying to sell their wares. I can see it on their faces as they keep walking. They lean back or away from the stranger.

Personal space is also quite obvious at home, at work, in the supermarket, in everyday life. I believe it is also used to hide from the outside world and from other people's problems. A 'If it doesn't affect me personally then it's none of my business' mentality. Cultural differences can increase the space, too. We instinctively back away from what we don't know instead of moving closer to understanding.

Edward T. Hall, an anthropologist and cross-cultural researcher, developed the notion of personal space distances, starting from the closest; intimate, personal, social and public. I think this should also include, cultural. There is a vast difference between public space in familiar and unfamiliar surroundings. I believe, personal space is not just about the physical but the psychological distances. These distances vary in different cultures and countries. In China, the personal space layers are very thin. In the western cultures, the spaces are much greater. Is it only population density that dictates the thickness of the bubble? Or is it the culture of the land we grow up in?

So, as I had crossed the great divide of the table in China and took the thin man's arm to help him order food, I crossed the line of my personal space bubble from my table in the restaurant into the little boy's bubble at the fence. I smiled as I moved closer and he didn't back away. I put my hand on his shoulder and offered him the bread in the basket. He smiled at me as he reached over the fence. There is no greater reward than to see a true warm smile returned.

Is that all it takes to cross the cultural space bubble? Is it that easy for us to connect with other people in this way? To leave our own comfort zone for a greater level of compassion for others?

What I had done doesn't change the thin man's life or that of the young boy but perhaps it left us with the memory of the connection between very different peoples. And similar to that of the 'Pay it Forward' idea, the hope of a simple act of kindness could be shared and passed on to others.

I suppose that this is not the usual travelblog you read from me but it is generated from my travels. As my family and friends, you know that my travels are not just about seeing the world but to understand the human condition and where I fit in the big picture. Travelling has become much more for me. There is a developing urge for me to not only see, but to participate in a world of cultural differences. How I do that remains to be seen. But, I do know, that to be successful in helping others, the lines of my personal space and comfort zone will be crossed many times.


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26th November 2010

Nice Blog
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4th October 2012
Camel prints in the sand

EXCELLENT BLOG
It does not hurt to expose your heart...walking in the footprints of others...expressed beautifully in your blog...encapsulated in this pic

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