Ever since I was about 12-years-old, I had this dream about "discovering my ethnic heritage." Distant but recurring images of a far away land danced around over and over again in my mind laced with beautiful prayers in a foreign tongue, the smell of potent spices, and a canvas of a million colors of dress and ancient scenery.
Growing up with my single American mother in Arizona, I always felt this gap inside of me. It wasn't that I ever lacked love, stability or understanding – I was a happy little kid with an amazing and unforgettable upbringing from my mom, grandparents, and sisters. It was just that, as I got older, I felt more and more estranged from understanding where I came from.
My mom always taught me to see the beauty and importance in all forms of ethnic diversity, so, by the time I became a teenager, I was seriously dying to know more about my own heritage. At that point, I came up with a little brainstorm for myself: Rozina, you're half-Moroccan. Your dad was born and raised in a city called Kenitra. You have a grandmother who is alive and still lives in the same city. And what about Morocco? It's in Northern Africa – it's probably hot there.
There is a King – Mohamed the 5th... or 6th. Moroccans eat couscous. Rabat is the capital. There is something called the Kasbah. It is a country governed by Islam, so do most people completely cover up? I continued to write and ask myself questions and write some more, but the gap just grew bigger and deeper. I even started researching the country on the internet, but that just made me long to see it with my own eyes. I felt like a hypocrite when I would tell people I was Moroccan because I couldn't really explain what that meant or represented for myself. But, as they say onscreen, that all drastically changed. I got a forwarded e-mail from my mom about the YES Abroad pilot program. She encouraged me to check it out because of my dreams of travel and foreign exchange, our family having hosted many students in the past. As I read the program, I noticed that Morocco was one of the three host countries listed.
With college just around the corner for me, I didn't take it seriously. It all seemed too distant but I knew I would regret not applying. So I did, and a few months later, I received an e-mail congratulating me – letting me know that I'd been selected as a semi-finalist. Just a couple days after, of course, I received a letter of acceptance and a merit scholarship from the college of my choice. I was doubly happy, but feared having to make what was at first a difficult decision. I attended the Final Selection Weekend for the YES Scholarship where I was interviewed and evaluated, and I anxiously awaited an answer. I couldn't dwell too much though, because just a week later, I flew out to Illinois for the open house of my soon-to-be school, Knox College. I explained my dilemma to the counselors there, and to my surprise, they were ecstatic to hear about my potential opportunity. They encouraged me to travel and said they would eagerly await my return.
Shortly after I got back to Arizona, I received notification that I was selected to study along with three other students in Rabat, Morocco. I couldn't believe my eyes. All the years I had spent wondering, dreaming, and waiting – and I was finally here and ready to discover the missing pieces to the hole inside of me. Months turned to seconds, and before I could blink, it was September 2, 2009 and I was boarding the plane and saying a 4 1/2 month-long goodbye to my family in the U.S.
After the longest flight of my life, we landed in Rabat and driving away from the airport, I took in a new and beautiful scene. I noticed the congestion of cars (all mostly French and tiny) as motorbike after motorbike cut crazily through the narrow aisles between. I noticed the bright green grass that laced the old city walls as we brushed past the roundabout. Everything was different, exciting, and seemed to tell its own story. I felt I had so much to discover, and that's exactly what I did. I discovered, I grew, I learned.
The first thing I learned was "COOLI!" For those of you who don't know, "cooli" is the Moroccan word for "eat." In the beginning of my stay, I would sit down to dinner with my host family and before even being able to think, my host mom would say, "Prends! Manges! Cooli!" In other words, "Take! Eat! Eat!" Not knowing where to start, I would grab whatever food I found in front of me. First, I tried eating it as fast as I could, but I discovered that made my plate endless because each time I would finish with something, my host mom would be right there with the dish to add more, more, and more, with no intentions of ending the game. So then, of course, I tried eating and chewing slowly. But with that, my host mom would ask me, what are you doing? What's wrong?” throw in "Cooli! Cooli!" a couple more times, and continue to shove varieties of other things on my plate. Believe me; it took a good while to find that happy medium.
Another thing I learned was the "faire la bise." Once again, for those who aren't familiar with the faire la bise, it is a way of greeting. Instead of shaking hands, Moroccans do a cheek-to-cheek kiss. The standard faire la bise is one on each side, always starting with right cheek to right cheek and ending with left to left. Confusingly enough, however, there are variations depending upon how well or "close" you are with the person. Time and time again, I found myself ending the faire la bise before the other person was ready or...the worse situation....where I thought the person and I were better friends than we really are and would go in for more as they tried (politely) to back away. Always something to practice...
I also learned a lot about Moroccan hospitality, an art that has been practiced and universally recognized for hundreds of years. Never will you feel more welcome than when entering a Moroccan's house as they spoil you with glass upon glass of hot, delicious tea, dozens of different cookies, and the best of what their home has to offer. And how can I forget the sincere and detailed inquiries about your health and your family? You have to know that when a Moroccan asks about your family, he doesn't just ask about your Mom and Dad, he asks about every single person in your family. Yes, even your uncle's cousin's sister's husband. Even him.
Well, those are just some funny things. But honestly, I learned a lot about the Moroccan culture and myself as well. After about a month of living in Rabat, my host family helped me get in contact with my grandmother in Kenitra. My host mom spoke with her on the phone and extended an invitation for my grandmother to come visit me at the home. Words can't even begin to describe the emotions I was feeling when I opened the door and my grandmother (Muilella in Moroccan) pulled me into her arms and told me that I was a "diamante" (diamond). During my winter break from school in Rabat, I got to spend an entire week and half at my grandmother's house in Kenitra where I met aunts, cousins, uncles and everything in between. What was even more amazing is that my sister, Aziza, got the chance to fly out to Morocco during that time as well. So we had the chance to connect with our family together, while also discussing our feelings and experiences around it, and that's something I will treasure forever.
As I look back on a very rich, and full four and a half months, there are so many things that I will never forget.
I will never forget the family ties I made at AMIDEAST with the other Americans, and my incredible coordinators, Abdellatif, Joe, and Rachid.
I will never forget the Siraj Family, Khalifa, Aziza, and Yasmine who invited me into their home with patience and love as if I really was just another one of their daughters.
I will never forget the amazing friends I made at school, many of which were international students coming from neighboring African countries like Mali, Mauritania, Gabon, etc – students who had their own interesting and meaningful life stories to share.
I will never forget all of the beautiful sights I had the opportunity to witness, from the red walls of Marrakech, the Roman ruins of Volubulis, Fes, the "old city," or the tranquil drumming of Essaouira.
I will never forget the Grecian housing of Chefchaouen, the blue and beautiful Mediterranean Sea, the devoted bowing of a hundred heads in prayer along the streets of Rabat all the way to the wild, crazy dancing in the small, quaint living room of my grandmother in Kenitra. It's all a painting that I've set permanently etched onto the canvas of my mind, and as I get ready to embark upon yet another journey into college this Spring, I know that I have experienced something much richer than most people my age could understand. That empty gap in my life is now filled with love, friendships, memories, and a newfound understanding.
Morocco truly is my second home, and I want to thank AYUSA and the U.S. Department Of State because they have given me a gift that I will hold deep in my heart for the rest of my life. As they say in Morocco, "Barak Allah Fik u Shukran Bezaff!" which means, "It is a blessing from God, and thank you very much!"