Dirt
Bear with me, okay.
On our small team of four, I have spent the vast majority of each work week building up the platform for, navigations of and some of the general content within ASILA’s website (she isn’t done quite yet, but do feel free to take a peak: asilashop.com). Though I have never fallen in love with my previous coding classes at Santa Clara, nor do I have any experience in coding in HTML, I can not express the extent to which I have been grateful for the opportunity to learn through ASILA’s own webpage. As I reflect upon the work that we have accomplished as a team thus far, however, I have begun to see that this gratitude towards learning extends so much farther than staring at a computer screen (more often than not out of confusion) for several hours each weekday.
Over the last two and a half weeks, our team has embarked upon three separate trips to Marrakesh and its surrounding towns, spending countless hours interviewing, filming, and photographing the female entrepreneurs that ASILA mentors and supports. From the thin, dirt roads of Youssoufia, which has no legal doctor or medical professional, to the pottery-filled, cobblestone pathways of Safi, ASILA’s 12 women have instilled in me an immeasurable amount of gratitude. On numerous occasions, I have found myself tearing up alongside them as they reveal their stories in front of the camera, though I have very literally no idea what they are saying (so, maybe not my proudest moments, no). Through Manal’s rough translations, I have learned of women forced out of primary school to be married off as mere children, of women in dire relationships, of women single-handedly supporting their families — all of whom view their individual organizations and the ASILA powerhouse as not simply a means of income, but as a place of refuge. As a place to turn to when all else feels undeniably unfair. And it is as such that I continue to learn from and be inspired by not just the work that ASILA does, but by these women as well.
That said, Morocco has not been perfect.
As a natural planner, it has undoubtedly been difficult to become accustomed to a workplace based most predominately on whim. Shelby and I do not sit at a desk from 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM, Monday through Friday, with the remainder of our time to ourselves. At the fingertips of a rather lively woman with three young daughters, a work-from-home occupation, and a rather hectic lifestyle, we often find ourselves arriving to the office hours before she does and staying extra nights in Marrakesh to wrap-up unfinished business. Some may call it flexibility; others, sheer chaos. Arguably, it remains hard to say if it is a lifestyle that I myself could become routine to, but it has most certainly made our journey a more exciting one thus far. And while there have been moments wherein my love for the adventurous and the spontaneous has dwindled, I am reminded every day of the inspiration to be found in doing this work.
There’s a series of quotes from William Bryant Logan’s novel, Dirt, and while the novel is, well, about dirt, it seems fitting for this moment.
Hospitality is the fundamental virtue of the soil. It makes room. It shares. It neutralizes poison. And so it heals. This is what the soil teaches: if you want to be remembered, give yourself away.
We spend our lives hurrying away from the real, as though it were deadly to us. ‘It must be up on the horizon,’ we think. And all the time it is in the soil, right beneath our feet.
This work is different somehow. And while I have yet to pinpoint the exact location from where this feeling stems, I seem to know that it is there. It feels a bit like fulfillment, but also a bit like heart-break, all stirred together and shaken up with a strong sense of presence, some trials and tribulations, and a dash of sheer delight. It feels a bit like making room. Like sharing. Like realizing that the soil is right beneath your feet. And maybe I’ll get it better by my next blog post — but probably not.
Also, in case you were wondering, I ate a cow’s eyeball last week. And for those of you who do somehow find yourselves at the bottom of this rather long and rather boring blog post, I will leave you with one of my favorite TED Talks of all time (check it out on your next lunch break — it’s only six minutes long, but worth every second): Drew Dudley “Everyday Leadership”.
