a different kind of holy week

“Lent has flown by this year!” I told Pete a few weeks ago once I realized how quickly Easter was approaching.  He laughed and noted that yes, in fact, Lent does fly by when you aren’t giving up anything.  We weren’t sure how to approach Lent in Morocco, which is 99% Muslim, so we simply focused on trying to adjust to our new lives.

And yet, somehow, the season of Lent found its way into our lives, especially this week, this very holy week.  On Wednesday, the US Ambassador to Morocco swore us in as official Peace Corps volunteers.  Our ten weeks of training are complete.  On Thursday, Holy Thursday, we made our way to our new home. 

Mr. Ambassador and his wife at the swearing-in ceremony.

For the next two years, we will be living in a mountain town outside of Marrakech.  By train, we (us and the other volunteers assigned to the same region of Morocco) made our way south to Marrakech.  Upon arrival, we were greeted by current volunteers who happily helped us find our luggage and the right bus.  They went above and beyond as they dragged heavy bags, negotiated with taxi drivers, and patiently helped us navigate our new community. 

volunteers!  everywhere!

As I sat on the bus from Marrakech to our new site, the sun started to set and the roads became narrower.  The bus had been crazy crowded, but now there were just a few of us waiting to get to the last stop (our town is a little over an hour south of the big city).  As the bus made tight curves, I thought it might be smart to pray to the patron saint of safe travels.  But who is that, anyway?  Forgetting, I decided to hum the Litany of Saints to myself instead.  And before I knew what was happing, I was softly singing Ubi Caritas to myself on the dark bus.  The same song I sing every Holy Thursday surrounded by people I love very much in our spiritual community.

As exhausted as I was after a long day of traveling, I knew that Moroccan food and Moroccan kindness awaited us in our new host family, and that gave me great comfort.  Instead of a Last Supper, we had our first supper with our new host family in our new community.  And it was delicious.

On Good Friday, we explored our new town.  It is beautiful.  It really is.  And though I already find myself homesick for the family we left behind near Fes, I am also incredibly excited to make our home here for the next two years.  As we hiked in the gentle mountains surrounding our town with new friends, exhausted and hungry and confused and happy, I thought that it was, indeed, a very Good Friday.  Communicating is still incredibly challenging right now, and we are muddling through with a combination of Darija, English, and French.  And yet, the word I hear the most is simply this: welcome.  

View from the bedroom window.

From the roof---so, when are you coming to visit?