EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNALJune
24, 1999
Azrou, Morocco
Into the Woods
Girrard and Elisabeth are having the trip of a lifetime. They’re from Avignon.
Elisabeth was born in Morocco and now they’ve rented care and are driving all over
the country making friends and seeing the sights. They’ve slept in the desert,
watched a perfect sun crawl across the Sahara horizon and filled their Peugeot with a few
kilos of powder-fine sand.
"We’re going to see some monkeys, would you like to join us?" Girrard
gestures towards a scruffy fellow who followed us around the day before. "Our guide
will take us into the cedar forests."
The five of us are piled into the sandy Peugeot and off-roading into the Middle Atlas
Mountains. Saoud gives directions while Girrard navigates the potholes. "Ooh la la la
la! Oh la la! This road is too rough! We will lose our bottom!" He pumps the brakes
and lurches the car and we lurch too, and bump along the dirt road. "Oh la la
Girrard!" Elisabeth gasps from the back seat in between speedy French conversation.
"Oh darling! Have confidence!"
There’s a clearing and suddenly we’re surrounded by Barbary Apes –
similar to the monkeys at Gibraltar, but less aggressive and garbage savvy. Saoud breaks
flatbread into pieces and encourages us to feed the family of monkeys. A bald baby clings
to his mother’s chest. The baby looks like a little human. Older siblings hang from
branches and leap from limb to limb. They are uncanny in their emulation of human
children. The mother carries her baby with ease and retrieves bread while he scrambles to
get his balance, constantly.
After driving through a fat forest of skinny cedars we return to the bus station where
Girrard and Elisabeth insist on a visit from us in Avignon. We exchange addresses and
Saoud makes me promise to publish his photograph. We say goodbye to the delighted French,
and Saoud follows us into the bus station. He wants to take us on a trek in the mountains.
He wants to take us to the home of a Berber family to have a regional meal. He
doesn’t quite believe that we are going to get on the bus. "Please, you are
using the toilet. Let me take you to my house for some tea." The bus driver honks the
horn and pulls around in the parking lot. "Goodbye, Saoud, thank-you, Goodbye."
I’m walking down the aisle looking for a seat. "Sara!" There’s an
urgency in his voice, and I turn. Saoud is leaning in, waving his hand wildly. "All
the best to you and have a wonderful journey, goodbye!"
