West Coast Sights and Sounds: Week 5

Backstreet’s Back
Walking through the city the other day I almost felt like I was back in America. I found this pimped out black car waiting at a stoplight. This dude had rims, tinted windows, and blue neon lights illuminating the street below him. The goofy haircut he sported easily gave away his age to the late adolescence years. This generation, like any other, often chooses the fashion trends that most easily attract the attention of those they consider elders. With the streetlights shining down and the sun long gone, he gripped the wheel with one hand and closely watched the stoplight through his black sunglasses. The roar of his engine was what first drew my gaze. What turned my gaze to a stare was what I heard after the engine relaxed to a low growl. His blaring music completed this particular experience and complemented the whole of my new life in Africa.

“Tell me why
Ain't nothin' but a heartache
Tell me why
Ain't nothin' but a mistake
Tell me why
I never wanna hear you say
I want it that way”

Rollerblades and Sunsets
Luke and I have made some very good friends amongst foreigners here in the city. Two of our new friends are single guys named Jeremy and Nick. After living here for a number of years, these guys have become very good at Arabic and have now begun to share their experiences and knowledge. We even had the opportunity to live with them for about 10 days between apartments.

One day Nick took Luke and I out of the city via taxi. From the cafe at the top of the mountain we gained a whole new perspective on our home. As the sun set over the water, we were blessed to carry on a spiritual conversation with our waiter, Achmed. Nick was always very intentional to come when Achmed was working. The two had built a special bond founded on their personal relationships with Christ. As Achmed shared his story, we were drawn into a new friendship that will build over the next years.

At the end of the night, we caught a new taxi back to the city. As the taxi turned into the medina, I began to hear laughing from behind. As the taxi climbed the long, steep hill I turned in my seat to see not one, but two small children holding tight to the back bumper. As I watched, a third child jumped onto the back of the train to climb the hill. With this third child I could now see that they were wearing rollerblades. In the moment of this realization the third dropped out of sight as the first two yelled back jeering at his fall. The taxi leveled off and the children began their descent down the hill speeding past us. What a great adventure to be a child in North Africa!