As my taxi gurgled and lurched it's way to the train station early yesterday morning I remembered that I had agreed to update you with my blog. Been a while, hasn't it. Sorry I suppose. Things get busy you know.
It's been over a month since I've last written, and quite a lot has happened. This post shall follow no particular order or have a premeditated theme because this is a blog and I can do that. Feel free to enjoy.
Last time I left you shortly after I returned from the village of Beni Koula in rural north Morocco. Since then I've moved from Rabat to Casablanca where I'm living now with four great friends, also journalism students. We have a villa just a short trot in a red taxi from the train station. It's spacious (plenty of room for activities) and provides a comfortable base of operations to work from. My favorite place? The roof of course. Even though were shrouded in the stardulling light of a metropolitan mass there are always a few especially bright stars that poke through on the cloudless nights. Earlier last month there was a meteor shower which, if you looked at just the right time, would grace the heavens with a streak of burning space rock. I like the roof.
We are in the final days of our independent study period. Drafts are in and final touches are being applied. It's a constant state of melancholy - happy to be going home soon but so sad to see it go. All this is to be expected I supposed. But we've been keeping busy finding/interviews sources, doing field work, researching, etc. The end goal is to have our work published in major media outlets in the west.
We even had time to take a short break for Thanksgiving to chug our way north and stomp through Tangier. You'll never find a more chill place of culture and memory. It's lovely really. You can see Spain and the rock of Gibraltar. The people are one of a kind. The older generation remembers the days when Jimi Hendrix tore up the Moroccan sky with mad jams and many are more than willing to show you around the city to the choicest of places to watch the sea slip silently under the sun. I'm willing to bargain that the chill nature of this coastal haven is partly thanks to the overabundance of hash. It's smoked as casually as a cigarette.
The week certainly has not been dull. Yesterday, I got up so early that it was actually still quite night like outside. Nothing to indicate morning at all actually. I had to catch and early train to catch another train to make it to an interview. A full day of interviews, setbacks and jumps ahead later I was ready to head back to Casa. On the way to the station I passed parliament and stumbled upon quite a commotion. A protest in front of parliament is no surprise. What set this one apart was the number of inspired-to-action young men breaking from the main group and moving towards police lines. The next 30mn for these rowdy youth was a grand game of run from the men with the swinging clubs and big shiny stomping boots. The police would charge, protesters would run, reassemble, and try a different approach always to be met with the same track and field reminiscent response. There was one particular long legged uniform whose stride quite resembled that of a gazelle. He frequently outpaced his comrades and eagerly yet vainly swung his standard issue smashing stick through the air. If you give an overzealous man a club...
This is all to say I will truly miss it here - the evident lack of true democracy coupled by some of the bravest people I've met who are willing to speak dissent in a clear voice. We forget how convenient everything is in the great, or at least better than most, U.S.A. Liberties are not meant to be taken for granted and we should be incredibly thankful for a free press. Without it, democracy is a farce.
I'll be back for Star Wars,
yours truly
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