I thanked the friend of a friend profusely, and was touched by his thoughtfulness. But the truth is, I find this kind of senseless kindness to be uncomfortable and frustrating. I can’t repay the man. And if I do, I fear I will enter into a strange gift-giving debt. I feel like I already have. As I was walking away with my books in hand, I also felt a little angry. It just felt like too much kindness after so much crap from other people. I wanted to write an open letter to Moroccan men saying that you wouldn’t have to do such overwhelmingly nice things if you weren’t such intolerable jerks all the time. I would trade my three books for three days without an “hola, guapa!” or kissy noises or “hungry eyes” following me as I walk to work or the bakery.
It’s a failed attempt at balance… like the litter strewn river leading to the most breathtaking, wild-flower strewn countryside I saw between Fez and Taza. So much ugliness next to so much beauty doesn’t even the score. On the contrary, it’s confusing. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not balance. You don’t have to give up the rainbow of wildflowers to get rid of the trash. And you shouldn’t have to despise acts of unexplained, unrecriprocated kindness because of the prevalence of rude behavior.
I do think this zealous generosity is a cultural phenomenon, and that I just don’t understand it. I’ve seen it before in other friends from other areas of the world, and I found it just as confusing and frustrating. Maybe in North America we have a limit on culturally-acceptable generosity. I want to understand it though, so if anyone has any insights, please, by all means, share them with me.
In the meantime, I’ll enjoy my books on Amazigh and focus on the wildflowers.