Amongst my pursuits and travels, my past month has been the epitome of them all.

I have spent the past month in North Africa and Arabia, where the predominant language is Arabic, and in one of the countries; French and Arabic. My first stumbling block was the language barrier; my inability to speak either of the languages with ease meant I was vulnerable and victim to being ‘ripped off’/charged extortionate prices on everything.

From the buzzing streets of Marrakech to the historic bends of Alexandria, if you’re recognised as anything but local, you get ripped off. The trend I noticed over the weeks, especially in the ancient taxis of North Africa, was that your initial agreed price was subject to change by the end of the journey, merely because you have no option but to pay, once you’re tied into it. If anything, I was amused by this trend. By the end of the first week, part of me would enjoy the haggling, and making sure I was firm with them.

After being driven around by supposed Hollywood actors’ publicists, I learned one key lesson. Know who to trust, and when to trust them. In a land foreign to your own, you’ve got to be extra vigilant, to ensure you’re not being taken for a ride. Although it’s hard to gauge how genuine someone is, it’s an important skill to work on when you’re away from home.

The creativity of the Berber’s (Native Moroccan’s) have imprinted itself within me, as something extraordinary. To see something of value made from waste materials, in order for trade to take place, requires determination and confidence. For instance, they would make sculptures of people using bicycle chains and other pieces of scrap metal. Some live a life of struggle, yet their determination enables continuity and subsistence. I was struck by contentment. As we travelled past the Berber’s town, we approached the sensational sight; the Atlas Mountains. There was more to it than just a mountain; our destination was a waterfall, at the mountain peak. With a midway break for the best orange juice I’ve ever had, we approached the waterfall and sat beside it in contemplation, only to realise it’s magnanimity.

Over the few weeks, this sight was second to one of the greatest, the greatest mosque in the world. On entrance, I was struck by awe at the Ka’aba (the cube) in the centre of this great Mosque, in the midst of Saudi Arabia, where millions of pilgrims would circumambulate every year. There was an energy which pulled me towards it. It was surreal. I felt magnetized, as though I had lost control of my bodily limbs, and as though my circumambulation was an effortless task, moving amidst the crowd, with the crowd. In unison. Around this closed circuit, where my act of circumambulation would represent my being with respect to the universe.

My identity had been negated. I was dressed in white, amongst thousands dressed in exactly the same. People cried and wailed in different languages, in different tones, expressing themselves fully. I wasn’t anyone. I was just my innate being, in my initial form. Nobody, yet somebody.

Over my few weeks, I started off with the rich culture in Marrakech, and even more so in Casablanca, before I travelled to Cairo, where the culture had similarities to Morocco, yet presented itself as something entirely different. I then moved onto Saudi Arabia, particularly Makkah, where I lost my identity and culture, and became one with everyone. My roots meant nothing. My degree, my efforts, my activities meant nothing. I had negated what I commonly refer to as ‘me’, and became the actual ‘me’. I then travelled away from Makkah, to Madinah, another holy city, where the religion of Islam first originated. I was walking on the lands of previous leaders, who were some of the greatest of people, and felt blessed.

I then travelled back to Egypt, Alexandria to be precise, where I was struck once again by culture. I regained my own culture, and found that culture meant something completely new now. Everything became more noticeable, more distinct. Finally, before making my way to the final destination of my summer,  Tanzania, I spent another few days in Cairo, where I visited the great pyramids and local papyrus factories.

When you’re away from your comfort zone, you live a life where basic needs are met first. For instance, my first night in Alexandria was slightly different; I hadn’t booked my hotel prior to arrival, so instead, had to quickly search for a decent hotel with decent standards. I imagined it to be a simple task, but turned out to be the most difficult, especially considering the time of night. If there’s anything I learned from that, it’d be, never go to an unfamiliar town without booking a hotel.

From the places I visited, to the cultures I witnessed, each and every instance has been an additional highlight to my time away.

I await each day, anxiously, as the summer continues to unfold.

Share on Facebook