Without language what are we?

So this past weekend we traveled to the Sahara, and I think the most often quoted words of the weekend were, “Whose life is this?” Riding through the desert on the back of a camel led by an Arab man in traditional clothing and full desert head wrap, it was too much Disney Aladdin to be real, let alone be my life. The whole trip was absolutely beautiful. We stayed at an amazing hotel the first night. The buffet was probably the most elaborate display of food I have seen in my life; the best American buffets would be horse troughs in comparison. My friends (of age of course) enjoyed screwdrivers made from Moroccan oranges they watched being fresh squeezed and as we drank and ate by the poolside the Moroccan band played and we were entertained by belly dancers. Yet, as amazing as this all was, at the hotel, and on the camel ride as well, I didn’t feel like I was really in Morocco. Just being in Fes every day I feel like I see more of the country than I did this weekend. The things I was doing, this hotel palace we stayed in, was so obviously for foreign tourists it seemed like a different place, or a fake version of the real Morocco. I tried to imagine my host family staying at the hotel, and it was about as impossible as the prospect of my host mom letting me skip dinner. Don’t get me wrong I did enjoy it all; but I also decided that being a tourist is not how I want to see the world. Staying in a place tells you what it’s like, the culture and the people. Traveling is wonderful and relaxing, but living is more my style.
That being said, the desert was beautiful, and sleeping the second night under the stars with our Amazight guides was so fun. They were fabulous hosts; after dinner they stayed up and told us jokes that were mostly only funny because they were in broken English with thick accents, but still, it was memorable. We also had a meaningful conversation with one of the younger guides talking about the Amazight people. He was telling us about the Saharan war, and how the government had mistreated the tribe and how it was hard because the language was dying because it was not taught in schools. He was 22 and a university student as well as a teacher of the Amazight alphabet in local elementary schools as well as a camel tour leader. He was very eloquent for only being able to speak “a little English” and he had what I thought to be very wise words: He said we should learn as many languages as possible, because we have to be able to communicate with others to survive. But also, we have to keep our own language, because it is the source of our culture. “Without language, what are we?” He asked, and at that moment I have never been happier to be studying Arabic. I am learning to communicate with more people, something I believe in very strongly, but on top of that, the Arab culture and Islam and life in this area is fascinating and wonderful to me. There are things that are difficult, and things I don’t like, of course, but I love learning who people are, and I don’t think you can really do that until you speak the same language. I was never more confused by war after this man’s talk, either. His speaking about the Saharan war made me think of the wars that America has been involved in with Arabic speaking nations and it so beyond ridiculous. How could you ever justify a war if you don’t even speak the other person’s language? Of course you don’t understand where they are coming from; you couldn’t even understand their knock knock jokes, let alone their foreign policy. Anyway, I suppose those thoughts just go along with the surreal campfire peace, love, and happiness feeling I got in the cool desert sunset, and then again come sunrise. That’s the one nice thing about being a tourist, it’s easy not to feel problems when you don’t live with them.
In conclusion:
Ride a camel, but not for two hours because they are very uncomfortable and your sore behind will feel that problem.