The Nomad Pad

**Note: Post Date is August 10, 2009**

I have decided to label our minibus as tragic. This van, or box if you will, trekked up the High Atlas Mountain, the highest in North Africa, at top speeds, making turns without caution, passing cars on a two lane street and all while holding steady conversation. Why do I put myself in these horrific situations? I did it in Italy atop the monstrous mountain top of AnaCapri, in Greece to climb to the distant area of Delphi and now once more in Morocco on the treacherous and winding roads of High Atlas. In past tense this fear may seem trivial and at times comical, but at the time with gaps of no protection at all between you and the deadly cliff along with an endless amount of sharp turns, that fear is nothing but real.

My anxiety is slightly higher than the normal individual. However, I am a fan of life and a strong believer that a part of life is feeling the pain as well as the pleasure. Therefore trying to reduce my anxiety is not on my agenda. My mother however thinks I need some kind of depressant to regulate my nervousness. She even suggested that I’d bring Zanex or some sort with me on the trip. I naturally refused. But…sitting in this crammed vehicle while defying the laws of physics and gravity I was wishing I took her up on that offer. Not to mention that the driver barely spoke English creating a barrier of communication as I screamed for him to slow down. Cars have always frightened me. They frighten me on a regular road. You place that road hundreds of feet in the air, forget it! I wanted off this crazy rollercoaster ride. NOW!

But we had 6 hours to go before that demand could be met. Six hours of dodging death. Erika and I sat back, breathed and tried to sleep through the rest of the terrifying trip. Luckily I can sleep anywhere and so I made due as we went along. Sitting in a van for hours on end just makes you utterly exhausted. We all sat around in a haze of heat and drowsiness as we dreaded the rest of the drive. We made several stops along the way actually. Mostly to give the driver a break but also to relieve us of the cramped space, give us a chance to go to the bathroom, buy water and of course shop. Erika was doing some shopping and bartering for an item. She wasn’t getting her proposed price and so decided not to purchase it. We went to sit in the minibus and munch on cookies while we waited to leave when all of sudden a head popped up at the window. It was the guy offering Erika a cheaper price. She got him do lower it even more and so she decided to make the purchase. However, the man saw that she had some cookies and asked if she would throw in one to finalize the deal. Now you don’t ask Erika for her food, you just don’t. But she gave him one. Deal!

Going to the bathroom in countries such as Egypt, Morocco and even Bulgaria is quite an obstacle. First the conditions are hardly ever sanitary, second you have to pay and third the chance that there is toilet paper at your disposal is extremely rare. We currently measure the quality of bathrooms on whether they have TP or not. They are hard to come by but we found a few. Good thing I don’t go to the bathroom much. But being in the desert, water is a vital resource and going to the bathroom becomes quite excessive and basically inevitable.

We made an extended stop for lunch which again was delicious. The traditional Moroccan salad (this time with ranch dressing) along with pork and chicken skewers and again fruit for dessert. The bathroom was in amazing condition and we took this time to rejuvenate ourselves for the second half of the drive.

To add to the tragedy of our bus, one of the students in our van was missing some money from his wallet that he so ignorantly left on the bus while at lunch. Once he discovered that the money was missing he was quick to accuse and verbally attack our driver. I’m personally not a fan of his driving skills but I wouldn’t expect him to be a thief. His name is Omar: a short Berber man who has a young son and has been working with the company for 13 years of his 35 year career. Interestingly enough: he was a featured driver in the movie Babel starring Brad Pitt. Nevertheless this student, who shall remain nameless, was abrasive, rude and created an uncomfortable atmosphere inside the minibus for a good chunk of the trip. Curse words were flying along with threats of attempting to terminate his position. The rest of us on the bus did the best we could in calming down said person, but we had little effect. We offered other scenarios of why his money was missing such as dropping it or unknowingly spending it for he was intoxicated the evening before. However his mind was made up. He was positive that our driver had stolen his 1000 Durham. There is no way to determine either way, but the behavior exhibited by this student was distasteful, embarrassing and just plain rude.

There was definitely benefit to our eight hour drive through the Moroccan terrain. The view of the mountains was both gorgeous and breathtaking along with absolutely horrifying. I was appreciative of being able to see different parts of Morocco, including the Sahara Desert and other surrounding small towns. We saw authentic Moroccan life including shepherds on hill top, woman and their daily chores, workers in the distant fields and of course our final destination: a nomad camp where we would be staying for the night.

First we had to Camel trekked through the Sahara to reach this cultural outing. I’ve encountered camels in both Egypt and in Morocco and I can promise you I’m not their biggest fan. They are tall, skinny, dirty, gangly animals with tight skin who make obnoxious noises, foul drool and attract bugs. I swear their compositional make-up is so bizarre and foreign from any other animal and I’m convinced they are aliens. Me and Erika riding a camel through the Sahara desert was a sight to see. I’m sure she seemed more in control then I did as I was apprehensive about the whole thing. But as much as I am disturbed by their appearance and lifestyle, riding them was a fun experience. I actually grew accustomed to our camel that Erika and I named Fred (short for Fredrick). Unfortunately they brand the camels which breaks my heart. No matter how ugly or disgusting an animal may be they don’t deserve that sort of demeaning torture. I mean I’m not sure what the purpose of a camel would be beside transporting people and supplies through the desert but nonetheless they could treat them with a little more respect. Besides, many animals that I encounter for some reason make me think of my pet cat: Stimpy who I miss a lot. I always miss that fat cat, who is actually more like a dog as he follows me around the house. But why would anyone want to hurt a helpless animal? It is so upsetting.

Anyways after an hour ride through the evening desert full of wind and dust we made it to the outside nomad camp where we were welcomed with a up roaring of music, clapping and dancing from the natives of Morocco. It was surreal as we entered this authentic camp. With tents and carpeting to limit the sand intake, a fire pit in the center and the Arabian night sky approaching I became more and more in awe of this indescribable experience. Here I stood in the Sarah desert, in Africa being served tea as I put my bags down in a nomad tent that I would be sleeping in for the night. The music was continuous and so was the dancing that soon became communal to the entire fleet of SAS students. I too joined in the joyous circle as I experienced, hands on, the African culture. It is so beyond thrilling to be in this unique place and time yet emotional. I’m 21 and I am able to be experience things such as traveling to Africa. My mom has expressed to me numerous times her strong desire of coming to this continent and it literally breaks my heart that I’m doing it before her and without her. I sit below the night sky and think of how privileged I am. I make a promise to return but only with her. I’ve yet to visit sub-Sahara Africa so together we can experience a safari and explore the southern parts of this unique body of land. If we’re lucky maybe my brother and sister will join.

Dinner again was consistently good as we were served another variation of our other meals. The bread was freshly cooked outside at the fire and this time for desert we had watermelon: my favorite!  There was also a lot of singing at dinner as we sang famous Disney tunes including hits from Lion King, Aladdin and Mulan to keep us in the mood of this exotic experience. It was yet another fun A.B.A. time of laughing, taking pictures and really marking this as a remunerable time.

“I never knew so many stars existed,” I say aloud as we lay below the dark sky. The Milky Way, the big and small dippers and Venus. It was just a magical night. I walked through the sand (tentative of beetles of course) and just admired the beauty of the starry night and just thought. I can’t possibly record all the thoughts I had this evening but one is the amount of our history that stems from this continent. The slave trade originated here. I’m not very connected to my African heritage, if at all, but to some it is a very powerful feeling to be standing where I am. It was powerful to me for many other reasons, but interesting to think that slavery created a whole period of time in our country of civil war, civil rights movement and most recently our elected president. It is such a stamp on the progressiveness of the United States and here I stand at its origin. I saw a shooting star. I can’t tell you my wish but it has a lot to do with life and the well being of the human race.

As I walked back to the tent I screamed like a little girl as I was faced with a beetle, (you know the ones from The Mummy?). Morgan had to whisk me away with her flashlight so that I could safely make it back to the camp without having to actually make contact with the crawling creature. What’s worst is they imbed themselves in the sand so you don’t know their location until they decide to surface. I did not go back out there.

As I made it back to the camp there was a lot of commotion and everyone’s focus was in the distance. As I looked there was a nomad lighting something on fire. This something spelled out “Semester at Sea,” in flames! It was such a cool moment of the night as we all cheered. It was so exciting to see knowing that I was one of the lucky ones to be a part of this amazing institution and unforgettable voyage and here it was being noticed by an African community.

Showering wasn’t a success seeing as I didn’t tonight. The nomads were very hospitable enough to offer us a bathroom along with food, electricity and beds but this facility was not worth the hassle. First the electricity wasn’t very stable so you gambled on whether you would be showering in the dark or not and the drainage wasn’t very advanced so the odors were enough of a deterrence for me. So I went to bed sandy and sweaty but why not go for the full experience of camping out in Africa? The drums and singing died down at about 11. Me and the girls climbed into our tent soon after that. I sprayed myself down with bug spray before I headed under the covers and wished everyone goodnight.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

~Michael-Anthony

P.S. Hakuna Matata