Three Vignettes in the Shadow of COVID
~ Illustrations by Ken Wahrenberger ~ Before Curfew A strong gale was blowing down Boulevard Hassan II as Abdelfattah paced the sidewalk in front of a shuttered café. Since the school closed where he worked as a guardian and parking attendant, he had been at home with his wife and three children, surfing precariously…
Homage to the City of Flowers
As a newcomer to a city whose best days are at least ten years gone, it’s not quite nostalgia that you feel. There is longing, of course, but for something you can only imagine. It’s unlike what I feel for the humanity of the Kasba or the calm radiance of Sablettes Beach, experiences stolen by…
In Search of Spring
Silence, allow me to disturb you for 1,008 words. There’s been so much time, such full time, but so quickly it’s tomorrow, and tomorrow again. It’s an in-between time, a liminal space that gradually gives way to a new normal. Off the bus, back on the street, but this time as tourists in a city…
Refugees of Modernity
Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation. Tooting, howling, screeching, booming, crashing, whistling, grinding, and trilling bolster his ego. – Jean Arp (1887-1947) As my right hand…
A Dog, a Piercing and a Tattoo
Not far from the train station in Rabat there’s a café called Autour du Nil. Though it really means “Around the Nile,” my sophomoric French translated it to “Surrounded by Nothing,” which still seems more fitting. Inside, grainy recordings of Arab music blare while the owner sings along, puffing from a pipe and shimmying through…
Reality slaps, and slaps again
Feeling a little pent up, I threw on my coat and went out the door with the excuse of seeing about having our pitiful carpet cleaned – the first step in a patently bourgeois mishap. I made it down one flight of stairs before crossing my chest with the SpectaclesTesticlesWalletWatch genuflect, then bounded back up…
Translating Christmas
I wonder what Jesus would put under the Christmas tree. Dates from his native Palestine would do it for me, and perhaps also a beatific scarf or sweater! For others, a newspaper, a book, or a map coded toward self-realization and compassion. Alas, maybe my sweater wouldn’t make the cut after all. If he were…
A karmic walk with thee
In the painfully short interval between the day we were told who we’d be teaching, and the first day of classes, my roommate and I were crossing the train tracks, heading home. Codes like YL3, T14, and Int4 had been hurled at us, codes that poorly concealed the fact that we’d be teaching English to…
Prologue
Hello! and welcome to the Moon over Morocco, my little mouthpiece in this virtual world of sound and self-portrayal. The cursor is blinking at me from its white and open screen, smirking. To the bottom of the page, I command you! to unfold my thoughts and visions here on the North African coast. This blog…
Moon over Morocco 