"This is Africa" Marrakech, Morocco.

Fill Your Mind and Your Heart
I was standing outside of a cinema in Marrakech, peering in at the different posters displayed near the entrance. They advertised movies that I assumed were playing inside and current, or maybe they had been glimpses and timestamps of movies that once played there before. A man standing near the entrance, likely noticing my curious gaze, called out to me:

“It’s a cinema, you can come in, have a look.”

He had a phone box in his hand, the kind that I had seen used to sell phone cards or other electronics. But he hadn’t pressured me to buy his products, as was common in the souk, and my genuine curiosity about the movie advertisements outweighed any hesitation I had had. After I had looked around, I went outside and stood next to the man.

His name was Moses, he told me, and he was from Senegal. I admitted that while I’d heard of the country, but I did not know where it was exactly. This brought a twinge of guilt within me, but I quickly reassured myself: Hey, Africa is vast, with over fifty countries, and you're just starting to get exposed, it's okay.

Moses lifted up the phone box, pointing to a picture of one of the apps. “See this, this is Maroc--Morocco," he clarified the French. "Down is Mauritania, and then Senegal. Only one in between.”

“Why did you come to Maroc?” I asked.

“I am a drummer,” he replied, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as the beads danced towards the ground. “There is more work in Maroc-- especially during the night when the city square fills up with people.”

We stood there in the dry heat next to Jemaa el-Fnaa, the city square of Marrakech. The sounds of flute-like instruments used to charm snakes and the occasional kick up of dust filled the air, as people passed through the road, selling watches and sunglasses. I had been checking the weather in Celsius instead of Fahrenheit to become accustomed to the unit of measure, and it was 42 degrees, which is roughly 107 degrees Fahrenheit.

Moses turned towards me with a calm reflective tone.

"In this life, you fill your mind, and your heart," he said. "I come from Senegal, and I am filled with what I know there. Then I come here--I meet people. Whatever I bring is of my mind and heart. What they give is the same. We share. Now, part of them is me, and part of me is them. You fill up your mind with experiences here, go back to the United States, and tell them”.

He paused, then added, “Marroc is different than Senegal. But I bring my mind here, and Iinteract with others".

​We had been standing in silence for about a minute, when a small boy with a bucket of nuts came up to me and said “Madam, merci”, and tried to hand me a nut.  “Laa, shukran (No thank you)” I said.

I suppose since he talked to me in French it would have been better for me to respond in French, but I had been excited to use some of my Arabic and was on autopilot with what had been working so far.

He looked at me with big sad eyes and put on a pouting face and proceeded to stand there and beg.  Moses said something to the boy and the boy went away after a couple of minutes.

“See this is not a good life for the boy. Not good for his mind.  But I think it is his parents, this situation. Listen, see?  His parents save the money send him to school, where he can get an education. This, see this?  This is no way to live.”

I asked if it was similar in Senegal.

Moses said, “This, this is similar across Africa”.
​
I did take a humbleness and a pensive nature from that talk with Moses. I carry pieces of Moses's heart and mind, along with the influences that he has been exposed to, and the spirals of exposures that have collided within every life. A blended patchwork of individuality, is what I am, carrying myself and the products of my environment, folded onto itself.