5-23-10
So I still like Morocco, but for God’s sake it is doing everything to change that opinion. My i-pod was stolen this morning. Directly right out of my hand. I was going the same way I always do, the same way I always have for three months, and I was about two minutes away from my house, just off the main street in the medina, when some guy came up behind my and just snatched my i-pod out of my hand. I yelled “stop him” a lot and some other profanities that I’m not proud of, and I and another bystander ran after him- but unfortunately I’m a distance runner, not a sprinter, and he got away. The man who ran after him with me called the police, and soon there was a group of men gathered around my crying self, all flustered at this pathetic American who didn’t know to keep her electronics tucked away and out of sight where people can pickpocket them instead of taking them directly out of your hands. The very unsuspecting looking police came, neither of them were in uniforms, and I went to the police station to file a report and all that jazz. I had to go home to get my passport so my host mom came with me, and we waited forever while the police went to look for the thief. The whole time I wanted to say just forget it, obviously I have no dreams of getting my i-pod back. Then when the police officer was filling out some kind of incident report I actually got really nervous because he seemed confused by my entry date and then re-entry into Morocco and I was really worried I was going to end up in trouble because of the whole lack of VISA thing which would’ve just been a cup of tea. Luckily, I think, it’s all over, and all that remains of the incident is my increased dread of my long trip home now music-less and one headphone that broke off in my ear as my i-pod was ripped away.
I feel pretty sick about all of this, the irony alone is enough to make me nauseous. Of course, four days before I leave, back to the “safety” of America, is when this happens. Then there’s the guilty feeling, I don’t want to cause my host family any problems, and I don’t want to leave being that girl who had all these problems. I can’t help feeling like it’s my fault, like even though I have never had any issues, I should’ve known from the beginning that I shouldn’t carry valuables around. I’m angry because I feel like people were judging me unfairly, that it was almost my fault for even having an i-pod in the first place. And then I feel, too, like I almost agree with them. Who am I to come to this third world country in Africa and walk around with an i-pod like it’s no big deal. I feel unsafe now, and nervous about travelling alone. I was really mad when I was told to “stick to the main roads” because I’m not sure what more I could have done to do that when it was nine o clock in the morning, I was on a street with other people, and I was walking the same way I have every day, several times a day, for the past three months, definitely not a some deserted route.
So that’s my morocco, I had a great day yesterday, went shopping for presents with my host mom. Was going to blog about her great bargaining skills and my awkward tea time with dustin’s host dad and how he “let” me make the tea because dustin told him I like to cook. But no, instead it’s this tale of trauma, and somehow it seems an appropriate send off. See, this way I get to prove m dedication, because guess what, I still love this place, I still think the people are good, and I still think the thief can go shove it.
No comments:
Post a Comment