so I have a great story – but first a disclaimer – the upcoming story is not for people who would not rather hear about bowel movements or vomiting… or for the sensitive-stomached… (it gets real here) Anyways, in the second part of our trip to Morocco we went to Merzouga, to the Sahara desert where we stayed in Hamas – Berber tents for 2 nights. We left Fez and traveled all day just to get to the desert (to the bottom of Morocco) stopping once at a restaurant for lunch and a couple times for potty breaks. (The potty breaks were terrible though and a real culture shock because firstly, there are no toilets out there (shocker), only trees and sand to use and secondly, the trees and little cover that is found along the Moroccan landscape doesn't cover you (because the branches are only on the tops of the trees and leave huge gaps near the ground…) Anyways I hadn't been feeling great that morning and after we stopped to eat at the restaurant I felt even worse. So when we got to our jeeps that were going to drive us through the desert to our camp I could barely walk my stomach felt so sick. Now I am not the kind of person who vomits, I think I have only vomited when I had food poisoning…but when my jeep stopped for the first time (at like 9 pm in the middle of the desert…) I was so sick that I puked from some kind of bad bacteria that I had most likely picked up in Fez.
After that things only got worse…I puked again in the next hour and had diarrhea (in the middle of the desert…really? I mean really?) and then got the chills. Long story short I got really sick and almost died in Africa, experiencing the double headed-fire-breathing dragon (which is when it comes out at both ends…at the same time… I know, right? I did give a disclaimer, and so now I am just being honest and real.) I think I got up like 7 times to go from my tent to the toilets (they were flushing toilets thank God! they would just get clogged a lot…but you do what you have to do…) and spent the next 2 days unable to drink water (because that would start my diarrhea up again) and unable to eat (because then I would vomit) and living off of suero (which is a drinkable form of stuff they put in IVs). I completely missed camel riding (the main reason I went on this trip…not going to talk about it…) and basically was baked alive in my tent during the intense heat.
I did however have the honor of receiving a real Berber treatment. At one point (when I could actually move) I went over to one of my friends who was recovering from a much more gentle sickness and was talking to the Berber man who was in charge of making sure we did not die while everyone else was off riding dirty stinky smelly scratchy camels in the hot sun (that should have been me…sigh…) He got his wife to come over and give us this Berber treatment which consisted of the big rough Berber woman massaging the skin between my thumb and index finger (until I wriggled in pain) and then placing me on my stomach to step on me and the put a rock under my belly button so that I would lie on top of it (for those of you who want to try this at home, it was bigger than 2 of my fists and kind of sharp…) After a while I was permitted to get off of the rock and then I did feel a little better (especially because I was no longer lying on a sharp rock…) The last part of the treatment was to give me warm milk mixed with coke to drink which, after 2 days of not eating never could taste any better.
I am better now, it really took a week of recovery and I will never forget my host mom's reaction. As soon as she saw me she said my face looked thin and that I must have lost 2 kg at least (which is like 5lb). She made us wash our fingernails in bleach and take showers before laying on our beds (because she had just changed the sheets) even though we had showered at our hotel in Meknes the night before.
I remember my room-mate asking me if I regretted the trip and I had to think about that but I realized that even though I went to the Sahara and almost died (or really sick, as everyone likes to correct me) I know I took back more from the desert than anyone else possibly could and that I value more my little moments of gazing at all the stars, that I never knew even existed with such brilliant light, 0r becoming mesmerize by the full moon that was so big and seemingly close, all the while on my way to the toilets. No one else got a traditional Berber treatment or experienced the feeling of being the only one in the camp (or awake in the camp under the moon). I guess that's why we study abroad anyway, to have our OWN experiences, different from everyone else and to learn about different cultures and ways of life. I mean after all not everyone can say that they left half of themselves in the Sahara desert (pieces of me that I never want back either…)
