My friend Ben just COSd (closed his service) as a PCV last month. After he COSd, he was traveling around Africa for a few weeks. He recently returned to Morocco during the course of his travels, but I'd already bid him farewell more than once, each time thinking that I wasn't going to see him again before he left Africa. As I was on a bus on my way back to my town yesterday, I received a text message from him. He asked me if I was still planning on not being in my town that night. I texted him back and told him I'd be there in 20 minutes. I didn't expect to see him again until sometime after I COS myself. I'm currently scheduled to COS in November 2012, so I didn't expect to see him again until sometime after that, and I didn't expect to see him until we were both back in the US.
When I arrived back in my town, I learned that he was immediately trying to get on a bus. I knew that he had been planning on leaving the province that day to make his way north out of Morocco, on his gradual way back to the US. However, once I received the text in which he said he was in my town, I thought that he would just want to stay the night in my living room, and leave the next morning. He quickly ascertained that all of the buses were full, so it became clear that he would be crashing at my place last night.
We took all of his belongings to my apartment, and I got to host him one more time before he heads back to the US as a RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). This morning, on our way to the town square, he stopped at the post office and bought a large box. He emptied some of his belongings into the box. During the process, he gave me a couple of things, including a backpack! I was grateful for it, and thanked him for it. Then he sent the box to his family in the US, so he would have fewer things to carry on his circuitous travels back to the US. Once he had finished dealing with the box, we continued up to the town square, and, more specifically, to the taxi stand for folks headed north. After we loaded his bags into the grand taxi, we were waiting for the taxi to fill up. The guys running the taxi stand, as always, asked how many places he wanted. Ben replied, "Wahd," meaning "One," since he was traveling by himself.
He and I then passed the time while waiting for the taxi to fill up partly by taking pictures, including of his stuffed teddy bear. Ben is making an adventure picture book for his young niece in which he is chronicling the adventures of his bear, Jillabo, during travels around the world. As Ben travels, he places Jillabo in various locations around the globe, making it appear as if Jillabo is doing a variety of things such as climbing towers, sitting on sidewalks, and traveling in taxis. During our wait for Ben's taxi to fill up, one of the guys at the taxi stand again asked Ben how many places he needed in the taxi. Ben again replied, "Wahd." The Moroccan guy replied, "Lla; juj," meaning, "No; two," as he pointed first to Ben, and said, "Wahd," and then pointed to Jillabo and said, "Juj." When you like a joke someone tells here or some other humorous comment, often you shake the person's hand, so I shook the guy's hand for that one.
And a little later, "Safi, baraka." That's it, enough. The driver said it was time to go. The taxi had filled up. Ben and I hugged each other and he got into the taxi. It promptly pulled away as he finally headed out from the province.
When I arrived back in my town, I learned that he was immediately trying to get on a bus. I knew that he had been planning on leaving the province that day to make his way north out of Morocco, on his gradual way back to the US. However, once I received the text in which he said he was in my town, I thought that he would just want to stay the night in my living room, and leave the next morning. He quickly ascertained that all of the buses were full, so it became clear that he would be crashing at my place last night.
We took all of his belongings to my apartment, and I got to host him one more time before he heads back to the US as a RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). This morning, on our way to the town square, he stopped at the post office and bought a large box. He emptied some of his belongings into the box. During the process, he gave me a couple of things, including a backpack! I was grateful for it, and thanked him for it. Then he sent the box to his family in the US, so he would have fewer things to carry on his circuitous travels back to the US. Once he had finished dealing with the box, we continued up to the town square, and, more specifically, to the taxi stand for folks headed north. After we loaded his bags into the grand taxi, we were waiting for the taxi to fill up. The guys running the taxi stand, as always, asked how many places he wanted. Ben replied, "Wahd," meaning "One," since he was traveling by himself.
He and I then passed the time while waiting for the taxi to fill up partly by taking pictures, including of his stuffed teddy bear. Ben is making an adventure picture book for his young niece in which he is chronicling the adventures of his bear, Jillabo, during travels around the world. As Ben travels, he places Jillabo in various locations around the globe, making it appear as if Jillabo is doing a variety of things such as climbing towers, sitting on sidewalks, and traveling in taxis. During our wait for Ben's taxi to fill up, one of the guys at the taxi stand again asked Ben how many places he needed in the taxi. Ben again replied, "Wahd." The Moroccan guy replied, "Lla; juj," meaning, "No; two," as he pointed first to Ben, and said, "Wahd," and then pointed to Jillabo and said, "Juj." When you like a joke someone tells here or some other humorous comment, often you shake the person's hand, so I shook the guy's hand for that one.
And a little later, "Safi, baraka." That's it, enough. The driver said it was time to go. The taxi had filled up. Ben and I hugged each other and he got into the taxi. It promptly pulled away as he finally headed out from the province.
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