hamdoullah

i contracted a rip-roaring stomach bug somewhere and spent most of last night groaning with exaggerated exuberance, knowing that there was no-one around to hear me besides the bats, and making the most of the situation to practise for my potential dying day.  

in between my groans i was made to think of the arabic expression "hamdoullah".

i first encountered this back in tetouan when i met up with couchsurfer Mohamed for an afternoon, in the course of which he invited me to accompany him on a hospital visit to a friend of his mother.  communication with the patient - who had lost all feeling in one of her arms - was very limited for me, but i remember the look of serene acceptance in her eyes and that she was telling me something about God.
i was fascinated to listent to Muhamed filling me in after we left the hospital:  "we muslims say hamdoullah - coming from al hamdou lillah; praise to Allah - not only to thank God for anything good in our lives, but also when we are ill.  it is to recognise that God is the source of everything in life: it is He who will give the strength to overcome all maladies and He who is the sustainer of our lives in all moments - be they good or bad"

until then i had wanted to thank God for being the source of all goodness but had not been sure what to say to God when things were not so good. 
hamdoullah is the spiritual side to the c'est la vie attitude that accepts whatever is beyond one's control.

it also has currency in the market place.
the honey men spoke a little french, and with my little bit of arabic we made our way through a very basic conversation.  i perceived one honey man saying that he would like to go to Scotland, but that the cost of a visa made it impossible

(a moroccan arrives at the border and says: i would like to cross.
the border offical says: i will not let you cross unless you give me a lot of your money.
with the algerian border closed to everybody, and western sahara a place of conflict and danger, most moroccans are effectively imprisoned in their beautiful strip of north-west africa.)

i expressed condolence to him with my eyes and then said: hamdoullah.
his face creased into a big smile, and he had to nudge his companion and tell him what i had just said.

i told them how very tasty their honey was and one of them put a big wad of honeycomb in a bag, saying to me "c'est un cadeau"  - a gift.


on the way out of town i met hamish the architect from london who had been cycle-touring for the past month.  it was good to speak with another westener and exchange our impressions of morocco.  also good to receive his recommendation to explore the roads to the east towards the desert.  "there are gorges there that are so..."
he searched for the word,
"gorgeous"


i am pushing my bike along a bumpy stoney lane surrounded by gorge.  up front moves a woman doubled over with a bundle of sticks on her back.  i am not sure where to look as she approaches (never sure how interactions with women should be conducted here).  her eyes meet mine from behind her black shawl - entirely expressionless - then she looks away. 
what is she thinking? i ask myself
what is her general experience of life like?


i recall that hamish had thick resilient tyres on his bike, and realise that my road tyres bind me to a strip of tarmac if i want to roll anywhere fast.
i love to roll.
tafroute and its environs are very linger-worthy but i am happy now to have given myself the goal of heading back to the coast and following it north towards casablanca and rabat.