architectures of trauma

Bless the City that burnt me into Being

There are so many facets of the short visit here that I don’t know where to begin. First off, it is—obviously—emotionally wrenching to return. I don’t want to dwell on that right now, because as much as I was praying that the gates of Fes would put to rest memory, I guess I really will have to live with this ghost the rest of my life.

A friend that accompanied me on the train.  Poor guy, I don't cry often, and I thought I could keep it together—but the moment I saw those red taxis and the green tiles at the train station, I started to break down—silently, but yes, completely. All I could do was yank my scarf over my face and keep walking. The second day, I finally went back to the neighborhood. Everyone I passed on the streets was yelling, “ I have not seen your face since August of 2006.” Exact dates. The rest of the encounters,  inevitably “Why why why?” Ad nauseum. And out of loyalty, concern for his safety, respect for his being -- I still owe it to his memory remain the secret-keeper, so all I could do was smile.

Down the Talaa to the old Ddarb. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find it again—how ridiculous. The name has changed, though, and the old Ibn Khaldun sign had changed to “Ddar Iman.” Another fitting change.. Everyone still lives where they used to—no one has managed (or wanted) to bounce off to Rabat, Casa or even the Ville Nouvelle. I went back to the henna suq and the maskun hospital to visit Shazia’s friends...Fes, I know you like the back of my hand and the lines around my eyes. Your scars are written across my body still.Mohammed the Tailor has passed away, Allah yer7amu, after a long battle with illness, and I found his shop closed when I went by. Simo still runs the pottery shop.

Saw Fatima, a phenomenal mentor, a mother figure--this time, she really took it over the top. We met for coffee and it was tears and laughter and talking over one another. She wanted (of course) to ask about my love life, and when I told her I don’t have one, haven’t for quite some time, and don't anticipate ever having one, she started laughing and said, “Daughter of my own heart, I pity your husband already. Remember—if you ever marry, make sure he is stronger than you; smarter if you can find one—this will be a challenge for you!” Wallah, she made me start bawling like a damn child. We were discussing personal things I don’t feel comfortable repeating about both of our lives, but she told me—I may have only sons, but I also have you.

May God bless this city that I love and hate equally--this city that burnt me into being.