Religion

I get up again to stand under the shower, as it is the most effective relief from the heat. The water is life pouring over my body. As the drops wash over my lips my instincts scream at me to open my mouth and drink. Instead, I spit out the water, denying myself the pleasure. The thirst remains. I am fasting, participating in Ramadan, the Islamic holy month. It is an opportunity to connect with people and get to know humanity a little better. Ramadan is also an opening to continue the never-ending discussion of my religious beliefs, and why I should embrace Islam. Moroccans are passionate about religion, and do not hesitate to discuss it openly.

Americans avoid religious conversations. Spirituality is not very consistent, and we consider it taboo to casually compare sets of beliefs. It can brew negative feelings. In Morocco, where practically the entire population is in agreement, religious conversation is completely acceptable. If I am around, religious conversation is encouraged, as Moroccans are excited to share their passion for Islam. After asking for my name, the next question from a new acquaintance is generally “are you Muslim?” This is probably because I give them my adopted Moroccan name (Kareem), but still, if you met an Arab in America who said their name was John, your next question would not be “are you Christian?”

I've had strangers be quite direct about their passion for Islam, with words approaching religious harassment. One day I was trying to buy a plunger from a lady. When she found out I wasn't Muslim, she forgot all about the plunger. “You must embrace Islam,” she cried, “it is the best religion in the world. You need it if you don't want to go to hell. I knew a woman from France, who became Muslim because she learned how beautiful it is. You must try to pray, OK?”

“OK, how much does the plunger cost?”

Another common occurrence are strangers trying to make me declare the Shahada. They will tell me to repeat after them: 'There is no god but God, Muhammad is the messenger of God.'  It is the first pillar of Islam and a simple step towards conversion. The first time it happened I wasn't sure what was going on and so I said it. I guess I must be a Muslim now. They got me good.

Sorry, I don't mean to make fun of these strangers. They really are doing what they think is right. They are trying to save me. It is just something I am not use to. Besides the occasional door to door proselytizer, or Mormon acquaintance, I was never told to follow a particular religion in America. In Morocco, such encounters are frequent, and sometimes it just trips me out.

With friends, religious discussion is also frequent, but much more enjoyable. My friends may also want me to be Muslim (of course they don't want me to burn in Hell), but their strategy for saving me is much more humane. They believe that I have the choice to follow Islam, and if I learn enough about it, I will want to convert. They do not tell me I must embrace their religion, they are simply happy to explain to me why it is a beautiful set of beliefs. When I admit that I am interesting in knowing about (but not converting to) Islam, they are satisfied. By fasting for Ramadan, they give me smiles that say “see, slowly but surely you are becoming a Muslim.”

Religious conversation with friends can be interesting, as I pick up on the importance of religion as well as the details that set Islam apart from other religions (namely Christianity since my community thinks I'm Christian). Most of what is said about being a Muslim can be said in regards to Christianity. On several occasions I have had Heaven and Hell described to me the same a way a Christian might. There was one particularly enlightening discussion where my neighbor described how the human temptation to sin can lead us away from our greater purpose in life. This conversation was complete with the story of Adam and Eve and an explanation of Satan.

After hearing such descriptions I say, “oh, hey, that's the same as Christianity.” Then the conversation takes a turn. Based on the talks with friends and neighbors, there are a handful of crucial differences that make Islam 'better' than Christianity. There is of course Jesus, who, according to Muslims, is not the son of God. Muslims find it strange that God would have a son, and figure the true religion would not believe such a thing. The difference between the Bible and the Koran is another point of contention. Muslims are very proud that their book has remained unchanged since its creation while the Bible have been watered down by time and translations. A final interesting point is that Islam is the youngest of the major religions, allowing it to perfect all the religious developments from the past.

I don't know how accurate such information is. These are the things I often hear in my community. Some arguments make sense and I can feel genuine passion, but some presentations are irrelevant and do little to demonstrate religious pride. Islam is the best, because so many Christians choose to convert to Islam and Muslims do not choose to convert to Christianity. How true is that? I hear that fact surprisingly often... freaking Cat Stevens and Muhammad Ali.

Like I said, I find such talks interesting, yet, at the same time, there is a certain amount of frustration. The problem is that I have yet to be able to represent my beliefs honestly. I usually say that I am a Christian as it more understandable than Agnosticism or Atheism. This sets up a debate, where I guess I am suppose to defend Christianity. The discussion compares Christianity and Islam to determine which one is better. Since I know as little about being Christian as I do about being Muslim, my arguments fall short. When I am not able to properly explain believes and behaviors of Christians, and admit that religion confuses me, they give me that smile that says “see, slowly but surely you are becoming Muslim.”

It would be less frustrating if I could take the debates to another level, where I can be more honest about my spiritual beliefs. Lately I've stopped calling myself Christian and explain that I try to learn and follow all religions. It is less of a lie than claiming to be Christian. Hopefully such a set up can lead to conversations that deal less with details and more with the big picture of religion. It would be nice to perhaps discuss the existence or general nature of God, where I can be real, instead of being put in a position where I must support Christianity over Islam.

Despite not being completely honest about my faith, my input forces others to think through new ideas. To defend myself from conversion I ask: “Would you follow a religion different than your parents'?” or “If you lived in Europe and everyone wanted you to become Christian would you consider it?” The other day I had some fun hypotheticals for my good friend:

“If you were in love with a Christian girl, would you marry her?”

“Yes.”

“Would your parents be upset that you married a non-Muslim?”

“No. They just want me to be happy.”

“Would your kids be Christian or Muslim?”

“Hmm... I don't know?”

“And when you die, she would go to Hell and you would go to Heaven?”

“Yea. She would have to go to Hell. But I would still text her!”

For the most part, religious talks with Moroccans carry a friendly energy. There is always an agreement that we are all brothers and sisters on our Earth, and it is important to love one another. And at the end of the conversations peace is generally seen as our most important goal. When I get up to end these conversations someone always has to give me a quick reminder “keep studying Islam, and one day you will want to convert. You will see.”

Dating

Morocco is an incredible mix of modernity and tradition. The population is able to explore the excitement of 21^st century culture without letting go of conservative values. Rihanna can be juxtaposed with ancient Berber music. Fancy cars drive past donkey carts. Generally, the two attitudes co-exist with no problem, but sometimes they clash, such as the case with dating. The dating game in Morocco is changing rapidly, and its traditional version does not get along with its modern version. Conservative habits clash with modern temptations, leading Moroccans to date in an unusual fashion.

Dating as a strategy for finding a mate is likely a recent phenomenon. Only economically stable individuals can really afford to spend time courting or wooing a partner. Traditionally, humans did not have the time to seek out a soul mate, and settled for an economically convenient arrangement. This often meant learning how to love one of the few available options. Today a lot of the world has the luxury to try out multiple partners and discover the right chemistry. The advantage is that we can explore personalities and get to know ourselves better, setting ourselves up for a mutually encouraging relationship. The disadvantage is that most humans now expect to be able to find love instead of working towards creating love. Damn, isn't love a bitch?

Morocco is not far removed from traditional arrangements. A couple generations ago dating was rare in Morocco and marriages were not based on passion. I guess they were mostly based on economics and religion. The Moroccan youth of today are different. They seem to expect love to strike their hearts, and spend a lot of energy wondering “does s/he like me back.” With my younger friends, conversation almost always revolves around girls.

Creating opportunities for finding a partner is the hard part. Since Morocco is still very much dedicated to its traditional habits, there is little overlap between men's space and women's space. Men hang out in the streets or at cafes while the women spend their social hours at the home. Most young couples I know met in high school, where boys and girls share the classroom. The only other obvious place would be on the street, where young Moroccan men will post up on a corner to flatter (or harass) girls walking by.

The other obstacle causing friction on the Moroccan dating scene would be parental disapproval of daughters mingling with boys. Traditional reaction would be quick to label a girl as promiscuous for spending too much time with a boy before marriage. This complicates things for girls, as there seems to be a desire to fall in love, yet little opportunity for the falling in love process to take place. The result is an under the radar kind of dating. One that involves cell phone calls, texting, Facebook, and secret walks into the country side.

In the end, it really isn't too different from American dating culture I guess. Pretty much no matter the culture, dating and marriage and being in love are complicated matters. I think Morocco is still a little tangled between traditional arrangements and open dating, but in a way America kind of is too. Actually, I think everything I said about Moroccan dating can apply to America too (or maybe the America of a few decades ago). Hmm... this is one of those topics where I only confused myself more by trying to blog about it. This is the worst ending ever. No conclusion. Just read the last sentence of the second paragraph again.

Transition

My neck sways backward as the train slows to a halt, blinking my eyes awake. I hold a book open in my hands, though I dozed off hours ago. I was dreaming. I can't remember about what exactly, but it had something to do with my relationships with my fellow American volunteers. I look out the window and realize this might be my stop. I feel so sleepy though. Maybe I'll just go back to sleep and get off at Casablanca. It will be the same price to take a taxi from there. I'll just go back to sleep and return to my American friends. But, no, I need to stop being lazy. I need to wake up to reality.

I ask someone where we are and discover that it is indeed my stop. I struggle to retrieve my large backpack, almost knocking a passenger over the head. An older lady inches her way onto the train, and I awkwardly try to make my way around her. People stare, wondering who I am traveling to an average Moroccan town. I make no effort to acknowledge strangers. I am not happy with this transition back to reality.

For the past two weeks, Peace Corps invited all 95 volunteers from my training group to stay at a resort. The purpose was to provide more Arabic classes and present ideas to help us continue our work in Morocco's youth centers. However the experience went beyond training. With nearly one-hundred of us divided up into fancy bungalows, and opportunities for all kinds of recreation, I indulged in American culture. I got to know my fellow volunteers more over the two weeks than I did during the original two months of training. I danced. I laughed. My team got third place in Pool Olympics. I sang Karaoke. I went to some bars. I played basketball, soccer, and ultimate frisbee. I bonded with my old friends and discovered new friends. Relationships developed, or fell apart, or took unexpected turns. I let the drama carry me off into America. It was like an entire semester of college packed into two weeks. I had way too much fun living the dream.

I make no effort to interact with anyone as I seek out a taxi that goes to my town. The past two weeks have given me a social hang over, and I am not at all capable of interacting with Moroccans. I binge socialized with Americans at the resort, and now I'm shut down. What's the point of trying so hard to get to know Moroccans, and integrating into my community, if I will only ever scratch the surface of their values, attitudes, and desires? Communicating is a struggle. How will I ever make an intimate connection with a Moroccan?

I mumble the name of my town while floating around the taxi station. Nobody seems interested in helping me find the right taxi. I don't blame them, I probably don't seem so friendly either. Finally, one man helps by calling out loudly the name of my town, and across the street a man whistles to signal that he will be my driver. I drop my large backpack into the trunk, hoping he won't be annoyed by its extra weight. Then I hand him a large bill, feeling bad because he will struggle to make change. The man smiles, and after talking to a store keeper comes back with my change. He talks to me in French and Arabic, exuding enough positive energy to bring me out of my funk. He lives in my town, and knows the other American who works with me in my town. His name is Moustafa.

He talks with me the entire ride back to my town. Gradually, I shake off by anti-social attitude, and engage with Moustafa. At first we talk about Morocco and the places each of us have traveled to. I'm always impressed by Moroccans' passion for travel and sight seeing. They have a tremendous appreciation for beauty, both natural or man-made. He tells me his dream would be to travel around the world by car. He wants to drive and see everything. Later, the conversation morphs into a discussion about languages. We discuss the technical aspects of English and Arabic, and also assess the importance of learning new languages and being able to communicate with foreigners. Finally, the conversation moves onto religion.

Religion is a tough subject to discuss with Moroccans. I've had some really depressing talks about religion with Moroccan friends. So many seem almost unaware that other religions exist, which shocks me. Knowing that they think I will go to hell for not being Muslim makes me sad. Their insistence that I convert to Islam even angers me at times. I don't ignore religious talks though, because they reveal a lot about a person, and reveal a lot about a culture. Sometimes I even come away with a fresh perspective on the importance of religion. Sometimes I am able to provide a fresh perspective on religious tolerance. For the most part though, they are tough conversations to have, as they usually end with someone begging me to convert to Islam.

When Moustafa asks me if I am Muslim I expect the conversation to shrivel into frustration. Instead, he demonstrates how powerful an open mind can be:

“No, I'm Christian,” I can't help but cringe at my lie. The truth would be too complicated.

“Ah, yes, like this,” he does the motion of the cross, “I know your religion. do you know about Islam?”

“Yea. I want to understand Islam. I know the story about Mohammed and I know the 5 pillars. And some other things too,” then I get defensive to try and stop the conversation from going where it's gone so many times before, “but, I only want to understand Islam. I don't want to convert,”

“Of course not. Your parents are not Muslim. It would be strange for you to convert. We all know about God and that's the most important thing. There are Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, Christians, and Muslims in this world, and it is terrible for us to say that one is better than the other. Islam is for me, and I love it, but so many problems come if I tell others they must follow it. Peace is what the world needs. For Peace we need tolerance. You do not need to be Muslim for us to understand and be tolerant of each other.

I am impressed by his response and want to reply appropriately. “That is why I am living in Morocco. So we can understand each other. You have an open mind, Moustafa. You can embrace peace and love. People with closed minds are the ones who cause the problems in our world.”

It feels like a silly comment, and I really want to demonstrate how grateful I am to hear a Moroccan say these things, but my French and Arabic are unable to express my feelings entirely. I feel frustrated for a second, thinking that I need to say something profound to make this exchange meaningful. However, his expression suggests that I don't really have to say anything. He knows I agree, because he knows why I travel and live abroad. If he had the chance he would be doing it too. It is the best way to open the mind and create a global understanding. Since he does not have the opportunities to go abroad he travels within Morocco, and makes an effort to meet foreigners like myself. Even if we can't share this attitude with words, we can feel it. We can feel that we have similar passions. We are both part of the movement to make the world an open and accepting place.

Our bond may not be as intimate as those I had with my American friends at our resort, but that does not mean that it is not as important. In fact, my bond with Moustafa is more important in a certain way, because the connections one can make with those who are different, are the ones that will help humanity grow. It is fun to bond with friends with similar backgrounds, yet it's empowering to connect with those who we have little in common with. Both are necessary.

When we arrive, Moustafa goes out of his way to drops everyone off near their homes.  We exchange phone numbers at my stop, and agree to meet again sometime to chat. His energy has filled me with optimism. The kids have just got out of class and the the streets are swollen with playful smiles. I can't help but smile too. I have a pop in my step. I have been reminded of why I am doing Peace Corps, and am excited about my transition back to Moroccan reality.