Travel country: Morocco
Experience: Moroccan village
The best alarm clock
It was the first night at the local Moroccan family in the village close to Chefchaouen. Night was long and full of interesting dreams; my European mind was still trying to process everything what have happened today while looking for a host family in the mountains. More questions were raised than I could find answers: how come that people invite you to sleep over at their house without even knowing who you are, trusting you and accepting like a family member; how can you make such an honest relationship with only body language; how can they put so much sugar in the tea; what makes those children so brave (they started kissing my hand after few minutes we met) and more and more…
All these questions after a long day in the mountains looking for a place to stay made my night sleepless and it was easy to get lost between my dreams and reality. Early in the morning I felt like I am having a dream that I am shouting as loud as possible and people around me are trying to calm me down. After few minutes of intensive screaming I notice that someone is walking around me and couple of seconds later I jumped from my sleeping bag because that “someone” runs directly on my head. It turned out to be a chicken wondering in the living room where I slept on the floor. After this there were no doubts any more if I am dreaming; and I saw women of the family walking around very anxiously. I heard few more very loud screams and only then the picture was clear in my head – it was not me shouting in my dreams, one woman is giving a birth! I started shaking: in the room next to me a new life is being born! I was even more amazed when I was invited to take part in this process. No doctors, no men, only women of the family and me with a team mate. The grandmother was supporting a mother who is struggling for a new born – her child. All the others were waiting patiently. Few hours later the baby boy was already calm and clean, looked very healthy. Mother was tired and silent, letting me to realize that new life does not come easily to this World, but giving a birth at home makes it so much easier and natural.
Here it was not even a question of hospital: it is your house, your temple, your bed, and your relatives.
An old smiling lady called Kabul in Arabic visited us in the evening to check the new boy and his mother. We laughed, drank tea and talked. She put some olive oil on the baby belly and gave some advice for the mother. She was still in huge pain, barely walking, but with the most sensible smile I have ever seen. All this magic of life was happening like I was a part of the family: a sister, a mother, a grandmother or a child. We were all equal. It was the day of joy and life which started with the best alarm clock ever.
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