Working alongside World Challenge, I was blessed with the opportunity of leading a group of thirteen 15 year olds out into the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco.
Two weeks of trekking mountains for 8 hours a day, refurbishing a school, cultural enlightenment, and ... shopping.
So, camping in the Atlas Mountains incurred a lot of rainfall. Hard, rainfall that sounded like foot soldiers running up and down the sides of my tent all night. I shared my campsite with 4 chickens, a couple of sheep, a baby lamb, and a couple visitors in the form of a black cow and a militant donkey (do not approach from behind).
This is how we ate!
So the first part of the expedition was helping to refurbish the school in the Berber village. The school had been used as a polling station and had markings from the last election all over the outside of the building. We painted murals on the inside and covered up the markings on the outside. Each room was themed in some way; the jungle room, the English room, the seaside and the farmyard.
Word to the wise, when in a Muslim country, the notion of a friendly farmyard pig is not at all welcome, neither is a big pink replica of said animal on a wall in a primary school classroom. I was asked:
"Madam, madam - q'uest-ce?"
"A pig. Oink Oink"
Confused face.
The girls decided to change it into a wild boar. Personally, I thought I goat would have been apt. Who ever listened to their teacher though? Point made.
After 5 days of painting and decorating, we started out trek phase. Climbing, climbing climbing climbing. When it's hot it's hot and when it's cold, there are literal ice blizzards chasing you round mountain paths. Amazing, but very very difficult at times. Especially on mountain paths which span approx 30cm, made exclusively of crumbling rock. I thought I was going to meet my death, a long long way down from where life had been present. I cried, I screamed, I even required the sling and carabiner at one point as my Bambi-shaking legs wouldn't go any further. This is a picture taken safely on the other side, whilst I waited for my heart to beat normally again.
We all learnt a lot of lessons. The locals laughed at us for how much washing up liquid we needed between us, and how frequent our washing regime was. The found the girls' blonde hair fascinating and fell in love with their white faces. The children literally lost their minds at the presents we'd brought for them: stickers, badges and pencils. There was even a pencil robbery at one point, and a punch up over who should have the last badge.
They carried those pencils around with them all week. Some held onto them and cried whilst we drove away from the campsite. The licked their fingers and made heart signs on the windows of the minibus whilst being chased away by the driver, tears streaming down their faces.
We miss you too!!!
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