on Morocco and generosity
Maybe what we need isn‘t another round of self-reflection, but a quiet revolution of small, meaningful actions: bringing dinner to a neighbour after surgery (and knowing them enough to able to do so!), showing up at council meetings to advocate for better public spaces, or simply being there when our community needs an extra hand. These moments might seem small against our appetite for grand personal transformation, but they remind us of something vital: that our individual flourishing is inextricably linked to the wellbeing of those around us.
-Kai Brach, publisher of the weekly newsletter Dense Discovery and creator of print magazine Offscreen
Small meaningful actions and connection between the individual and those around us. This is what I would call the essence of the culture I have experienced during my two-week trip in Morocco. It needn’t though be any sort of ‘revolution’ there; it seems to be quite a natural, organic way of being, which I have been missing in our way of living here in Europe.
This trip could only happen because of small meaningful actions and generosity. And not financial generosity (although in some ways it could be tracked to that), but generosity of time, knowledge, connections, attention; generosity in care. I am blessed to be a part of extremely caring communities (plural) around me where I continuously unlearn patterns of individualism and keep on learning the practice of care daily. But I know that what I experience here is not so very common, and I can still see, outside of my safe circles and bubbles, that small actions and seeing/loving another (sadly, maybe more referred to as the other) is not a natural, organic way of being in our society at large.
Morocco gave me hope. Yes, as everywhere, there are still many issues in different areas, but this text and this photo story is not about that. I met many people who have absolutely everything and who have absolutely nothing. And both of those people shared so much of what they had with me, without asking any questions - and 9 times out of 10, without me even asking for it.
Proactive generosity. It makes you feel like home - because you are welcomed and invited to be in one. I saw people being generous with giving the benefit of the doubt, generous with trusting that you will bring those 10 dirhams back next time you shop because you didn’t have enough change this time around, generous with their time taking you to the right person for support instead of just pointing the direction you should follow to find help. Generous with their food and tea, and the time spent sipping the tea and telling so many stories about Moroccan culture and history. Generous with patience, when I do not speak french, arabic or tamazight. Generous knowing that what is theirs actually belongs to everybody, and to the planet.
I was sharing these thoughts with a lovely human I met in Casablanca via a close friend. We were discussing the topic of community, because I mentioned how I feel that Moroccan people are generous and sharing amongst each other, and that it feels that the community feeling is strong. He could see that; however, he questioned the term ‘community’ and, understandably, as a local, he had many more insights that allowed him to doubt the view of someone who at the time of the conversation had only been in Morocco for a week. We were actually in Rabat at the time, chilling in a small park close to a museum we were about to visit, and having a snack. It was Friday - an important day for Muslims - and big crowds were gathering together to pray outside. The park was also full of road and construction workers taking a post-lunch nap and the mood was cozy. In the midst of our conversation, one of the road workers came over with a big flattened out carton box he was resting on and offered it to us since we were sat on the ground without a blanket - which we accepted. His break was over and thus he shared his comfort with us. It could not have been a better example of the proactive generosity that we were actually discussing. Without even asking, we received care from someone we don’t know and will very likely never see in our lives again. Small meaningful actions.
There were hundreds of them during my stay. I cannot even remember all of them any longer because they became such a norm. And this kind of took me back in time to when I was a kid, to that weird window in history in the 90s post-soviet / pre-internet / pre-capitalism Lithuania. When people had to think about and for each other in advance, without being asked, and support each other proactively, to be able to survive. I am not saying this or that particular setting is superior - this is all just a humble attempt to understand where the roots of this type of behaviour are.
I don’t want to turn this all into a political essay, but I know that it is. Because everything is political. And in this current sitcom episode of Planet Earth, where the stakes of the war are high and I am worried for the safety of my family and my country, where the people we don’t elect are running governments, where indigenous communities are being eliminated, where individualism and capital have been celebrated so much they took over our systems and our thoughts, I wish to live through the small meaningful actions for those around me, quietly.
All of these images have been taken during infinite daily walks in Marrakesh, Casablanca, Rabat, Essaouira, and Sidi Kaouki (images might not appear in this order). I hope, through these impressions, you can smell the softness of Moroccan air and see the lazy light and shadow play in the spaces used to blazing summer sun. I hope you can feel the peaceful and quiet living in the moment and notice the cinematic ambiences in everyday routines. To me, they all also speak of the hospitality and creation of home, and that the small gestures and going it together can get us much further than big actions alone.
