So, I decided to go for a walk this past weekend. I didn’t know where I was going or where I would be an hour from when I started, but I was certain that I would end up somewhere, hopefully close to the Old City (the Medina as we say in Arabic) at some point in time . . . eventually. I knew and was certain that as long as I moved my feet and continued in my chosen path, that fate would decide my course and destiny. I walked out of the school’s big metal gate and took to the hill that was to my immediate left. I turned out that I had chosen a path that took me past the beautiful Muhammad V mosque and its huge minaret and through much of the new city. After walking for sometime, I found myself at the entrance of the Medina, whose huge white Bab was just swarming with people going in and out, kids running and playing all around, men having a break at the corner coffeehouse, and whose paved entrance could best be described through the hustle and bustle of cars and buses as they moved their cargo to and from the grasp of the Medina’s walls, the broken battlements that at that very moment, reminded me so much of my belovèd city of Fès. Without any delay, I entered the hallowed doorway and stepped into the maze that now rested before me. Lucky for me, I had brought my camera, so that I might record the memory of the sights I was to see and the places I was to visit, which are sometimes hard to remember and almost impossible to describe to someone who has never seen such an amazing web of shops and homes meshed perfectly into one. And as I turned the many corners and wandered the many paths that were offered to me, I couldn’t help but soak in the “puzzlingness” of the labyrinth I had just entered and whose exit was for the moment, lost from my knowledge.
I eventually came to a dead end and found therein, a group of kids who were surprised that an American would visit their little corner of the world. It was such an awesome moment, because these kids had never seen a camera like mine, and their fascination with instant visual and audio technology was clearly demonstrated with their crowing and huddling around me, in order to catch a glimpse of the little gadget that had just filmed them in their element. It was so cool to be there with them and to talk with them, because not only did I get some sweet pictures, but I also left them with a little lesson about the four most important things in life: “one’s studies, one’s work ethic, one’s knowledge and most importantly and above all else,” as I told them, “one’s faith in God.”
I left those little kids (May God keep and bless them) and continued to walk the streets, when something caught my wandering eye. A beautiful Darraa-eeya, the dress of Islamic scholars and students of the book (the Qur’an), was displayed for my two eyes to behold on the side of the street. And as I stopped to admire the quality and the look of the Darraa-eeya, the owner of the shop, Si Ahmad, bade me to come in and to try it on within the walls of humble little Hanut or “Shop.” I accepted his invitation and immediately fell in love with the robe, deciding then and there that I would buy it and thus help this kind brother with his small business. And as I walked out of that shop and headed home for the day, I couldn’t help but think about everything that transpired that very day; that perhaps destiny had decreed for me to buy that Darraa-eeya and to look the part of a one who studies, learns and humbly follows God and the right path. “Path”. . . I had taken many paths that day . . . and they all led me to that man’s shop. “Hmmmmmm . . .” I wondered . . . “Path.” But wait, what if I had taken a different route, a different path? Would I have still ended up at that man’s shop? I don’t know the answer to that . . . as we say in Arabic, Allah Allem (God [is the one that] knows). But it’s interesting to think about it, isn’t it? Especially when one of the paths that you chose leads you to a dead end and the only thing you see upon arriving there is a marble plaque inscribed with the word: “Al-Maktoub” which is Arabic for “It is Written (for you)” or in other words, “Such is your Destiny!” When you really stop to think about everything that happened to you that day, you can’t help but wonder that such events were certainly not a coincidence and that perhaps it was your destiny to have walked where you walked and to have seen what you saw and to have met those you met and to have lived what you lived. That my friends, is destiny; that my friends, is life!
