Once again my plane broke through the clouds and morning broke over the horizon. After hours of the Atlantic I looked down and there was the coast, long smooth waves, their white foam slowly approaching the flat of Africa. As I road the train from the airport there was Morocco, the nonchalant sun over smiling fields and lazy buildings. It was good to be back.
Summer has come and begins to fade. With Ramadan the clocks have fallen back to ‘old time’. Fewer days cross the 100˚F mark. Dry winds and sandstorms blow followed by coal colored thunderheads and house shaking downpours.
The Beaches of Morocco fill as families trickle toward the coolness of the coast and then empty as they return for the start of school. The second week of October sees the temperature drop 20 ˚F. The first storm of the season comes and it rains for two days straight.
In recognition of the autumnal weather I make pumpkin soup. I spend my time talking with community stakeholders, trying to get my elementary school student health project off the ground. I meet with the teachers to discuss the strike that is wrapping up its second week and preventing high school classes from getting underway.
It is business as usual.