To Africa and Back

Monday morning we experienced a unique adventure in our lives as we crossed the Mediterranean on a 35 minute ferry from the southern tip of Spain to Morocco on the continent of Africa. I hadn't thought that I would ever visit an Islamic country in Africa, but it didn't take me long to figure out that I really had arrived.

The first thing I noticed besides all the bribing being done at the border crossing was how the western style of clothing was quickly fading away. The further we travelled into Morocco, the fewer western style clothing we saw and the more typical Arab clothing we saw until we got to the place where we were definitely in the minority. It was interesting to see the range of clothing in the Islamic world as we don't often think of our own culture as having this range of clothing styles.

In our culture, we see the range of clothing from the Amish to what we would see as very immodest clothing. I suppose in the Islamic mindset, they have the same range although I must say I saw very little immodesty. For the first time in a long time, I had fewer clothes on than most people around me--that was quite a change! Perhaps the best way to express what we saw is to tell you what happened on our first evening there.

Our son, Christian, is five years old and has learned some about the Islamic world as we have prepared for this trip. I have tried to teach him that just because someone has a head dress on, doesn't mean that he/she is Muslim, but he can't seem to get that concept. Although it is fairly uncommon to see a person dressed in Arabic clothing in our area of North Carolina, once in a while when we are travelling, he spots someone dressed in this way, and usually lets me know.

Our first evening in Morocco, after our service, we went back to our apartment where we were staying and decided to take the whole family on a walk. The biggest reason for doing this was that it looked like an excellent opportunity to experience the Moroccan culture as it was the heart of Ramadan--a major Islamic holiday. The people had finished feasting and now the streets were full of celebrating throngs of people at about 11 at night and we wanted the kids to see what was going on.

We got out on the streets and all around us were throngs of Arabic speaking, long-robed wearing people. Everywhere around us were men in fez hats or other traditional male clothing such as long shirts, robes, and sandals. The women were dressed in a wider range of clothing from simple head scarves to complete burkas and gloves.

I know I felt a little uneasy myself as I was obviously ridiculously conspicuous with all twelve of us walking down the street of Morocco's holiest city in western wear, and all around us were these people of such a different race. However, I can only imagine how my little five year old felt as he experienced the night of spooky black burka-clad people walking by! To my amazement, we had only been out just a little while when all the sudden, he said with great excitement, "Mom, I see a Muslim!" I was so caught off guard by his obvious innocence in realizing that he had just seen a Muslim--thousands as a matter of fact--and he never realized that he was the only nonmuslim on the street! I quickly said "shhhh" as if hoping people wouldn't hear him, understand, and actually notice us! Oh, well, I guess the mind does quirky things when under stress!

Another very interesting thing we experienced was going into, the Medina. I had heard about the Medina of Fez before we got there and just thought it was a large flea market type place with lots of different products to buy. I assumed we would go there for a couple of hours, buy some souvenirs, and that would be it. I was very uniformed however, as to what the Medina is. As I quickly found out, the medina is not a flea market, but is actually the old city of Fes and is a cultural experience that can not be found anywhere else in the world. We travelled to the city walls, parked our van and walked in through the medina gate. Immediately we realized that we had just walked into another world. The medina is a modern day city that is still living back in medieval times. It is an area enclosed in old city walls encompassing about ten square miles of the city. No motor vehicles are allowed in the whole ten square mile area. People live, work, buy and sell in this enclosed area of the city as they did a long, long time ago. All around us were little shops, craftsmen, fruit stands, public baths (get a bath and massage for about 3 dollars), tanneries, schools and houses. This was no living history museum, but it could certainly qualify for it! We walked for hours in this medina as someone guided us through. All the information about the medina says not to go in without someone who knows the way as you will certainly get lost. Our contact there in Morocco actually lived in the Medina and guided us around. It would be almost certainly impossible for a newcomer to enter and not get lost as there are 7,000 little dark streets, alley ways and small roads, all jutting off in odd angles.

I don't claim to be a softie, but even I got a little shaken when I was standing in the street and saw a robed person approach the counter of a little shop right near where I was standing. I hadn't paid a lot of attention to where I was standing although I was standing taking pictures of the live chickens hanging out there. The customer approached the clerk and apparently requested a particular live chicken. I assumed that the customer would pick up the chicken and go home with his squawking purchase. However, before I could even turn my head to protect my sensitive feminine senses, the "clerk" plopped the chicken up on the counter and promptly pulled out his big knife and began sawing the chicken's head off before I realized what was happening and could turn my startled head. I have seen chickens butchered before, but I was totally unprepared for this and just never expected someone to start butchering a chicken right where you would normally see a cash register in my day and age. I mean, nice chickens are supposed to go into Walmart bags aren't they? Anyway, my sensitivities quickly adjusted again as I realized they were going to continue to prepare the chicken right there including singing it and defeathering it. I decided not to watch anymore as I never intended to see any part of it anyway and headed on to slightly better sites.

As we walked through the narrow streets, frequently, we would hear yelling and so we would squeeze up against the sides of the shops as a heavy donkey load of vegetables or market products would squeeze by.

We headed on down the street and soon came to the leather tanneries. Here, again, this was not a tidy museum experience in leather making. This was men sloshing around in hugs earthen tubs of liquids out under the baking African sun. Animal skins were hanging up, lots of smells were wafting around and inside we saw beautiful leather sandals, purses, jackets, etc.

In the middle of all these experiences, one thing was really bothering me. Here we were in the middle of a country that was listed in the top ten countries for persecution of Christians. Being a Christian in Morocco is a serious thing and there is no option on the national identity card for "Christian" on the space given for religion. It is forbidden to tell any Moroccan about Jesus. The churches that are there are for foreigners serving in Morocco only and the police have made that very clear. Morocco just threw out a group of missionaries not long before we got there, and although it is not technically against the law to become a Christian, they make it so unpleasant that the law doesn't matter at all. One person there told us the penalty was 20 years in prison.

Why did this bother me? It bothered me because when I walked into the English speaking churches, everything in me wanted to step outside and invite the throngs of people outside in. We were there during the holy month of Ramadan so in the evening, we would hear the call to prayer coming from the mosque and would see the throngs of mostly men heading for the mosque to pray before ending their fast for the day. They all came out a short time later while the voice from the mosque would continue to chant for a long time later over the loudspeaker. I wanted to stop them and let them know about the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It was a new experience for me to stand there and not be able to do a thing. It went totally against my nature to enter a gate to go into a church and know that those outside could not easily come in. Rick was speaking inside and a police was standing outside so it was not even an option to invite people in even if we had been able to speak their language. I'm not sure how it happened, but I do know that at one point in the evening, one Moroccan man did come into the service, so pray that God would satisfy his hunger for the truth and protect him from those who would try to hurt him. He must have been very hungry for God to come in as he did.

When you think of Morocco or hear about it on the news, remember to pray that God would make it possible for the people there to hear about the true way to heaven. One person who is working there with the people, told us that when the Moroccans can hear about God, the people are very responsive. He said that there is great responsiveness to the Gospel, and he was not the only one to tell us that. However, he said the problem is "when" they can hear the Gospel. There are so many hindrances for those who are there to tell it that it is extremely difficult for them to do it, but we met those who are spending their lives trying to tell as many as possible.

Another thing that I realized when I was there was the importance of meeting and sharing with the Moroccans and other Muslims who are living in both the Europe and the United States. They are moving to western countries in huge numbers, and if they can be reached, they can influence their own families as we never could. This was brought home to me twice on this trip.

On the way over to Morocco, I decided to step out onto the deck of the ship with Paul and get some fresh air. I decided not to stand near the rail as the ship ride was not the smoothest ride I had ever taken (it was choppy enough for the kids to enjoy it without getting sick at least if we weren't on there too long!) I stood back against the wall of the ship and a young Muslim woman and her husband and baby also stood there beside me. Both of our babies were about the same age and communicated in their own baby language. However, I realized that unless the Gospel could be shared with this young family, no doubt our little boys would have drastically different futures.

One the way back, I saw even more clearly the opportunities that we miss when we fail to befriend Muslims in our own country. We boarded the ship to return to Spain late at night. Right before the ship left the port, I stepped out onto the deck to enjoy the ride. Just as the ship was preparing to leave, I noticed two people step out onto the darkened deck, and cross a chain to go past a "no access permitted point." I wondered what they were doing so I stood and watched them without making myself obvious. It was a young Muslim couple. They were nicely dressed and appeared to perhaps have on special clothing. She had on a beautiful long dark blue robe with gold trimming and he was standing nicely dressed beside her. They made a striking picture standing there, but I wondered what they were doing there at the very edge of the ship where they weren't supposed to be. In a moment, the young man lifted both his arms and began waving them slowly back and forth and just stood there doing that. I wondered what he was doing and I kept wondering as he just stood there slowly waving his arms back and forth at something in the distance. In a moment, though, I realized he was crying and his wife beside him was wiping her face on the edges of her head scarf. Then I realized they were telling someone goodbye so I looked toward the terminal, and I saw a fairly large group of people standing outside the terminal, and they were doing the same slow waving of the arms back at him. This was not a casual goodbye as they apparently were leaving their family in Africa. It went on for a long time as the young man kept slowly waving his arms and periodically putting both his hands to his mouth to blow solemn kisses to the people on shore. As the ship moved away, they continued to stand there and wave and cry until the people were gone from sight on the shore and someone came from the ship and asked them to move from the area. I realized very strongly how sorrowful this young couple was to be leaving and how likely it would be that someone with compassion and tact could befriend them in their home where they were going and have a lot of influence for God in their lives. I know now that I will be watching for Muslims in our area and making aggressive efforts to befriend them so that I can share what I was not able to do in their own country.