From Tameslouht to Casablanca and back in 24 hours: this is the true life of Sarah Quinn.
While safari-ing my way through the Sheraton of Uganda (in my white terrycloth bathrobe), I received an email (on their flawless wifi) from Angela, one of the Public Affairs officers working at Dar America. As my most loyal readers recall, Dar America is the Public Affairs section of the United States Consulate in Morocco– who also helped with the flus (money) component of our project. They put on a lot of cool public programming, and wanted to know if Mustapha and I were interested in speaking about our interfaith dialogue and how the topic resonates in America. Without hesitation, we responded yes, and packed up our bags on Monday, April 29th. Headin’ from the red to the white city!
Upon arrival, a driver picked us up. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, Uncle Sam has a DRIVER. We were taken, very stylishly, to Dar America’s oasis of splendor and beauty– about 2 hours early, but who’s counting. We were pumped! The building is amazing. It features an impressive library of English books, a computer lab, garden, and spacious offices with that lighting that photography students die for. Also noteworthy was the body count: probably 20 people were spending their free time lounging around, reading books and enjoying their time in a productive way. For those of us who work at dar chababs, you will understand my amazement at this. Usually I have to bribe kids with chocolate to come and learn in their free time. Not exaggerating. The chocolate was a huge hit.
At 5, Mustapha and I rolled up our sleeves and got a’talkin’. Mustapha began with an overview of Tameslouht, the ancient religious school in Tameslouht, his association, and where the idea for an interfaith dialogue came from. Afterwards, I impressed everyone with my powerpoint skills and showed pretty pictures of pretty people (who just coincidentally were at our interfaith dialogue) while giving the run-down of how exactly we got the project to go from the ever-popular (and prevalent) “idea” to the slightly more elusive and exponentially more satisfying (albeit 110% more frightening) “reality.” The group– a fluctuating 20-to-30-and-at-times-10-person gathering– was super engaged and asked a ton of great questions in English, French, Darija, and, at times, a combination of the three (welcome to my life).
Sometimes, as an American, I forget how revolutionary this whole concept really is. As I explained to the audience, our American interfaith dialogue is a lot more informal. We don’t typically write grants and get massive headaches from planning the logistics of it– most of it occurs in passing conversations with neighbors and co-workers about weekend plans, holiday parties, and current events. Of course, I realize my own experience is exactly that– my own– and not wholly indicative of every single person who calls themselves an American, but still. My family, as Catholics, lived between two Jewish families, some atheists, Scottish people, and a bouquet of other Christian pursuasions. I vaguely remember my mom attending a neighborhood gathering for a religion whose name evades me but is something about all-inclusiveness. I learned about Ramadaan through some friends in college who were fasting. I stared at the small shrines (Shinto?) while I waited for my nails to dry at the neighborhood nail place. I marveled endlessly at my Buddhist art teacher (at a Catholic school). Just to name a few of my “interfaith dialogues.” Morocco, unlike America, doesn’t have this extreme diversity at every corner. The population doesn’t lend itself inherently towards interfaith discussion simply because most people are Muslim. It makes sense. The added “proselytization is illegal” thing makes it slightly uncomfortable for anyone who isn’t Muslim to be the initiator. As PCVs, we’re actually told to stay away from the topic, as it is often so controversial that it is not worth it in terms of compromising your effectiveness simply because you are an atheist (the jury is still out on that one– many PCVs have very different experiences in this arena). But, at the end of the day, I think Mustapha summed it up best with what he said yesterday– if you’re green, you will never know what being green truly means until you meet someone who is blue. In short, when we learn about others, especially those with beliefs divergent from our own, we usually end up better understanding ourselves.
After the wonderful, energetic, and very positive Q&A, Mustapha and I went to Angela’s (super, fancy, really nice, words-don’t-do-it-justice) apartment and met her cat Bandita. Angela and her friends treated us to…brace yourselves…INDIAN FOOD and FROYO. Casablanca is truly a small slice of American heaven. The next morning, we enjoyed bagels and Skippy’s peanut butter, hot showers, and a large hoard of pigeons at the Casaowi version of Trafalger square.
Now I’m back in Tameslouht, looking longingly at the stain on my sweater from the faraway dream of Chicken Masala. It was a wonderful experience (and not just the Indian food!) and I highly recommend hooking up with Dar America if you ever find yourself in the Casablanca area.
