So, the first thing I did when I got home Saturday afternoon was to put on the Darraa-eeya that I had just bought and to check myself out in the full-body mirror next to the bathroom. “It looked and felt so good at the store,” I wondered. “Why doesn’t it look good now?” It seemed that in walking home from the Medina, the Darraa-eeya had grown in size or something, because now it was too big on me. The length was too much, the sleeves we too big, and in the neck was too wide, and I really didn’t want to go back to exchange it. I mean, it was all the way in the Medina and walking way the heck down there took time, a luxury I really don’t enjoy have when I’m studying all day and I need every second I can get to prepare myself for the next day’s lesson. But perhaps, I needed to go back. I knew the way and so it wouldn’t be too difficult to just take it back and get it exchanged. Bada Bing, Bada Boom!
I had a free afternoon yesterday, so I decided that it would be appropriate to make the exchange with the abundance of time that was presently mine. I talked Ruth and Lawrence into going with me and we decided to take a taxi down to the Medina in order to be in and out in probably an hour’s time. We got to the Medina in record time (about five minutes) and paid the Taxi driver his 6 dirham fee. Casually, we strolled into the Medina and began to weave our way through the many streets and avenues that beckoned us with their attractive colors and winding patterns. We walked and followed the path that I knew would lead us to Si Ahmad’s shop, but for some reason, I must have taken a wrong turn. Or maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the right path in the first place. “Hmmmm. . .” I meditated for a second. “I remembered that I passed this big square on my way to his shop. Could there be another square like it? No worries,” I said to myself, “we’ll just keep walking” and sure enough we did. We walked up this street and down that one; we turned this corner and that one, being forced on each of those occasions to abandon our chosen path upon our realization that “this wasn’t the street!” or that we were walking towards the upper neighborhoods of the Medina when we really needed to be on level terrain. We were lost! And it was my fault! But I was pretty positive that “this street led us to his shop!”
We continued walking and I remember saying within my heart: “Oh Lord! Help us find the way! We’re lost and I don’t want to be here wandering aimlessly without finding the shop. Please . . . help me find the way!” Almost immediately, we turned a corner and I remember hearing a loud voice that was shouting behind me: “SaaHibi!” “It’s just some guy calling his friend,” I thought. But then, I heard the voice again as it yelled: “Aaaaaaaaaaa SaaHibi!” and this time, I wondered if I was the “SaHibi” this person was calling. I turned my head and to my huge surprise, I found a familiar face, smiling as it waited for me at the corner. MuSTafa, a man I had bumped into twice before and who had, on our first meeting, give me directions as to where I could find “Shaari3 Fès” (Fès Street) was standing there a few yards from where I was standing with Ruth and Lawrence. I turned my body and briskly walked to him and took him by the hand as we exchanged kisses on the cheek and greeted each other. His first words to me, after our mutual salutation were: “Where are you going, my friend?”
“You know . . . I’m looking for this Darraa-eeya shop and there’s a little bookstore, a small little one, right next door to it,” I told him. “Do you know where I could find this place? I know it’s somewhere around here, I just don’t know where!”
“I know EXACTLY where it is!” was his response. “I’m actually heading there right now! My work place is on the same street! Come, follow me.”
What a miracle! I mean, here was this man and he just happened to be there as we happened to cross his path and he happened to recognize me and I just happened to turn as he yelled, “Sahibi!” which is something I usually don’t do. I mean, everyone calls each other “SaHibi” and you always hear that as you walk down the street. Why did I turn? Perhaps out of desperation and possible help? I don’t know why I did it, but what I do know is that he did indeed prove to be an answer to a humble supplication. And what’s more miraculous was the fact that he was heading in that direction and knew exactly the place I needed and was praying for. Indeed, “Sami3a Allahu li-man Hamida” (God listens to those who [in prayer and worship] praise him). Sure enough, he entered his work, gave me his card, and pointed us in the direction of the little shop. “Just keep going straight!” he said, “You can’t miss it! Straight!”
At long last, we got the Si Ahmad’s shop, I made the exchange, Lawrence bought some sweet yellow Balgas (traditional Moroccan shoes) and also bought a Darraa-eeya. It was awesome! And after that, I scored a really nice version of Ibn Batuta’s Travels (in Arabic) with explanations and original maps for 120 D’s (about $15 American) at the bookstore next door. It was a great day for all of us.
But the experience that I had witnessed for myself and of which I was a big part, left a profound impression on my mind and in my heart. And I’m still thinking about it as I’m writing this entry. Truly God listens and he answers and he places people in our path so that the works of God and the manifestations of faith might be shown unto the children of men. Thinking about all this, reminds me of a scripture in the book of Hebrews, in the New Testament. It reads: “Be not forget to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2). God is real, faith is real, and it is through faith that one comes to the realization that “All things are possible” . . . if you only believe!
I had a free afternoon yesterday, so I decided that it would be appropriate to make the exchange with the abundance of time that was presently mine. I talked Ruth and Lawrence into going with me and we decided to take a taxi down to the Medina in order to be in and out in probably an hour’s time. We got to the Medina in record time (about five minutes) and paid the Taxi driver his 6 dirham fee. Casually, we strolled into the Medina and began to weave our way through the many streets and avenues that beckoned us with their attractive colors and winding patterns. We walked and followed the path that I knew would lead us to Si Ahmad’s shop, but for some reason, I must have taken a wrong turn. Or maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the right path in the first place. “Hmmmm. . .” I meditated for a second. “I remembered that I passed this big square on my way to his shop. Could there be another square like it? No worries,” I said to myself, “we’ll just keep walking” and sure enough we did. We walked up this street and down that one; we turned this corner and that one, being forced on each of those occasions to abandon our chosen path upon our realization that “this wasn’t the street!” or that we were walking towards the upper neighborhoods of the Medina when we really needed to be on level terrain. We were lost! And it was my fault! But I was pretty positive that “this street led us to his shop!”
We continued walking and I remember saying within my heart: “Oh Lord! Help us find the way! We’re lost and I don’t want to be here wandering aimlessly without finding the shop. Please . . . help me find the way!” Almost immediately, we turned a corner and I remember hearing a loud voice that was shouting behind me: “SaaHibi!” “It’s just some guy calling his friend,” I thought. But then, I heard the voice again as it yelled: “Aaaaaaaaaaa SaaHibi!” and this time, I wondered if I was the “SaHibi” this person was calling. I turned my head and to my huge surprise, I found a familiar face, smiling as it waited for me at the corner. MuSTafa, a man I had bumped into twice before and who had, on our first meeting, give me directions as to where I could find “Shaari3 Fès” (Fès Street) was standing there a few yards from where I was standing with Ruth and Lawrence. I turned my body and briskly walked to him and took him by the hand as we exchanged kisses on the cheek and greeted each other. His first words to me, after our mutual salutation were: “Where are you going, my friend?”
“You know . . . I’m looking for this Darraa-eeya shop and there’s a little bookstore, a small little one, right next door to it,” I told him. “Do you know where I could find this place? I know it’s somewhere around here, I just don’t know where!”
“I know EXACTLY where it is!” was his response. “I’m actually heading there right now! My work place is on the same street! Come, follow me.”
What a miracle! I mean, here was this man and he just happened to be there as we happened to cross his path and he happened to recognize me and I just happened to turn as he yelled, “Sahibi!” which is something I usually don’t do. I mean, everyone calls each other “SaHibi” and you always hear that as you walk down the street. Why did I turn? Perhaps out of desperation and possible help? I don’t know why I did it, but what I do know is that he did indeed prove to be an answer to a humble supplication. And what’s more miraculous was the fact that he was heading in that direction and knew exactly the place I needed and was praying for. Indeed, “Sami3a Allahu li-man Hamida” (God listens to those who [in prayer and worship] praise him). Sure enough, he entered his work, gave me his card, and pointed us in the direction of the little shop. “Just keep going straight!” he said, “You can’t miss it! Straight!”
At long last, we got the Si Ahmad’s shop, I made the exchange, Lawrence bought some sweet yellow Balgas (traditional Moroccan shoes) and also bought a Darraa-eeya. It was awesome! And after that, I scored a really nice version of Ibn Batuta’s Travels (in Arabic) with explanations and original maps for 120 D’s (about $15 American) at the bookstore next door. It was a great day for all of us.
But the experience that I had witnessed for myself and of which I was a big part, left a profound impression on my mind and in my heart. And I’m still thinking about it as I’m writing this entry. Truly God listens and he answers and he places people in our path so that the works of God and the manifestations of faith might be shown unto the children of men. Thinking about all this, reminds me of a scripture in the book of Hebrews, in the New Testament. It reads: “Be not forget to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2). God is real, faith is real, and it is through faith that one comes to the realization that “All things are possible” . . . if you only believe!
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