Morocco has more rollerbladers than 1990's made-for-TV action sports movie. After our first few weeks in training, having seen slews of children figure skating through crowded souqs, skitching on mopeds, and carving concentric circles into the dusty asphalt, I was beginning to grow restless and concerned. Where were all the skateboarders?
"There in my inbox!" I shout, as I read an email from my Country Director about an upcoming skateboarding event for youth. Knowing nothing about the event other than when, where, and that there was a promise of skateboarding, I hopped on a train.
In Kenitra, I hailed a taxi to take me to the Dar Chebab. When we arrived I paid the driver, said "Yo homes smell ya later" in Arabic, and jumped out to finally lay my eyes on the blessed sight of Moroccan skateboarding. And there was nothing. The gates were locked and the dar chebab was a ghost town. Was my skateboarding oasis in the desert of rollerblading just a mirage? No, I was just an over-eager volunteer unaccustomed to the reality of polychronic time. People started to show.
The first person I met was Sam who works in Cultural Affairs with the State Department. It was refreshing to meet him because he actually speaks Darija and knows much about Moroccan culture, which was surprising for me since most of the American Embassy workers I have met so far seem to live in a diplomatic bubble. I later found out that he is a returned PCV who served in Morocco 15 years ago.
Sam introduced me to Rachid who has an association for skateboarding. With my broken Arabic, and his knowledge of English we were able to develop an instant friendship. He put me to work right away, unloading skate obstacles from the truck, and helping to assemble prefabricated metal ramps on the basketball blacktop next to the Moroccan youth house. Rachid then introduced me to Mustafa, Amine, and the rest of the skate crew, who were the lifeblood of this operation. These guys, mostly still in high school, had the skateboarding prowess that was only surpassed by their desire to share their passion with other youth.
I let them know of my interest in helping since I am a youth development worker, and a skateboarder and they were more than welcoming in having me help. I helped the first day and then was invited to join them for the rest of the caravan that whole week. We traveled to six different cities holding clinics, demos, and competitions for the youth. We picked the best older youth to travel to Salle on the last day for the final competition.
The week was physically exhausting, (as I haven't skated hard every day for six days in a row since I was a little kid) but tremendously rewarding. From teaching skateboarding in Arabic to having conversations about my favorite skaters, teams, or videos with the older youth, the whole week I found myself in new situations that were enlivening. However, the greatest reward was seeing the glow in the faces of the young kids and being able to share their excitement of learning to do something challenging, new, and incredibly fun.
"There in my inbox!" I shout, as I read an email from my Country Director about an upcoming skateboarding event for youth. Knowing nothing about the event other than when, where, and that there was a promise of skateboarding, I hopped on a train.
In Kenitra, I hailed a taxi to take me to the Dar Chebab. When we arrived I paid the driver, said "Yo homes smell ya later" in Arabic, and jumped out to finally lay my eyes on the blessed sight of Moroccan skateboarding. And there was nothing. The gates were locked and the dar chebab was a ghost town. Was my skateboarding oasis in the desert of rollerblading just a mirage? No, I was just an over-eager volunteer unaccustomed to the reality of polychronic time. People started to show.
The first person I met was Sam who works in Cultural Affairs with the State Department. It was refreshing to meet him because he actually speaks Darija and knows much about Moroccan culture, which was surprising for me since most of the American Embassy workers I have met so far seem to live in a diplomatic bubble. I later found out that he is a returned PCV who served in Morocco 15 years ago.
Sam introduced me to Rachid who has an association for skateboarding. With my broken Arabic, and his knowledge of English we were able to develop an instant friendship. He put me to work right away, unloading skate obstacles from the truck, and helping to assemble prefabricated metal ramps on the basketball blacktop next to the Moroccan youth house. Rachid then introduced me to Mustafa, Amine, and the rest of the skate crew, who were the lifeblood of this operation. These guys, mostly still in high school, had the skateboarding prowess that was only surpassed by their desire to share their passion with other youth.
I let them know of my interest in helping since I am a youth development worker, and a skateboarder and they were more than welcoming in having me help. I helped the first day and then was invited to join them for the rest of the caravan that whole week. We traveled to six different cities holding clinics, demos, and competitions for the youth. We picked the best older youth to travel to Salle on the last day for the final competition.
The week was physically exhausting, (as I haven't skated hard every day for six days in a row since I was a little kid) but tremendously rewarding. From teaching skateboarding in Arabic to having conversations about my favorite skaters, teams, or videos with the older youth, the whole week I found myself in new situations that were enlivening. However, the greatest reward was seeing the glow in the faces of the young kids and being able to share their excitement of learning to do something challenging, new, and incredibly fun.
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