Rain. Day
upon day of foggy, moist, freezing drizzle. A persistant wet that leaves mold
on the walls of my house, ice on my floor, clumps the salt in its shaker, and leaves
my hands constantly and painfully in a state of raw numbness.
Rain that,
to my utter chagrin, comes with a biting wind that blows up the mountain from
the north; Cold winter water picked up from the Mediterranean
and condensing on everything I want to keep dry. Clothes, food, books, even my
precious toilet paper. Blowing and blowing, it keeps my house in a perpetual
state of groaning and rattles my plastic roof with such force that I feel like
I’m just waiting for the entire building to implode. One point for the wind.
Zero for me. If I needed one more reason to stay in the warmth of my bed in the
mornings, the wind gives it to me.
Rain and
wind and fog and mold. These are just a few of my least favorite things. Yet,
despite my ill will towards bad weather, these are the very things that drive
life here in the Beni Snassen. They grow the wheat, they keep the orchards
alive through the dry summer, they provide fodder for all the grazing animals,
and they replenish the aquifers that give us our “world famous” spring water. But,
unfortunately, these are the very things that are painfully missing from Morocco right
now. No rain. No wind. No fog. No growing season.
It’s
difficult to celebrate the fact that I can keep my rain jacket packed away,
when the farmers and their families (a majority of my friends and neighbors)
are fretting over whether their newly planted wheat crops will survive, grow,
and, ultimately provide the much needed income and nutrition that they depend
on in the coming months. The king even went so far as to call the nation to a
rare national day of prayer for rain.
As of
today, the prayers are yet to be answered. They are building and building. I’ve
been told that God punishes his people for their sinfulness. Is that what’s
happening now? Will the rain come only with repentance and reform? If that’s
the case, as they continue to send plees to “their” god, I will start sending
mine to “my” god. Because, while I am reveling in not having mold in my corners,
rain leaking through my windows, and dampness destroying my very spirit, I hate
even more the idea of my friends and neighbors (people I have grown to love and
respect over my two years here) not meeting the financial and nutritional needs
of their families.
Note: Since
writing this a couple days ago, the rain has COME! That’s not all! So did the
wind, fog, and even a dumping of snow. Guess I’ll get that rain jacket out
after all.
