Alive and well in (Timbuktu)...

Surreal. You get on a plane to Atlanta. Okay that is routine. New York. Okay, I have done this plenty of times before but sitting in JFK a few days ago shot me into my seat like a pilot catapulted off a carrier when I realized I was headed for Morocco and then into the bush of West Africa. The rush of knowing you are about to turn up in The Sahara is something like your first day of driving a car. You are given the freedom to go anywhere, do anything, but you must stay vigilent to keep yourself safe while also making sure you and your friends are having a fun time. Journeying into this region is like having a cocktail with Ernest Hemingway and Indiana Jones. You can smell the adventure in the air and feel the warmth of the people the minute you step out of the aircraft onto the tarmac.

We arrived into Casablanca on Tuesday, 2 December. Having taken an Ambien and passed out, I was rarin' to hit the city. We freshened up at a local hotel, accomodations taken care of by the airline (a nice of touch of class on their part). We then hired a driver named Aimin. We ate hummus, couscous with chicken and lamb, and topped off our meal with two cups of Arabic tea. Heavenly. If you have never had Arabic tea, go to the nearest Persian restaurant and have some. You will taste what I mean. It is made from fine tea leaves and lots of sugar, served warm. So good! Aimin took us to Mosquee Hassan II, one of the most stunning Arabic structures I have ever seen. The vistas from its courtyard are breathtaking as you sit entranced while salt spray hits your face at 0500 hours while listening to the Call to Prayer by the local Imam. I had stepped into world my own, but so not my own. I had been delivered from the matrix of society as I knew it to a simpler style of living. But, its simplicity only proved more profound with the richness of relationship that permeates the air and culture of The Moroccan people. After the mosque, we visited a local market, what is termed a Bazaar. We haggled with the local merchants. I bought some traditional dress and wore it the rest of the day. I melted into the culture and it was so wonderful to seem like a part of these people's life. Many would begin speaking to me in Arabic to which I would kindly dismiss myself from the conversation. With a few folks, I picked their brain and learned a little more that I could get by with. It was fun and amusing to have people mistake me for a local. We rounded out our layover in Morocco with a trip to Rick's Cafe in Casablanca, the famed bar that Humphrey Bogart's character Rick owned in the film by the same name. It was idyllic. I had stepped back into time, to the Eastern Hemisphere's wild west, so to speak. I felt the presence of great leaders, writers, and the like, as I sipped my Casablanca Lager and Arabic Coca Cola. The cigar smoke hung in the room like it was there to stay. Had a funny moment at the bar: some of the servers mistook me for Real Madrid's goalkeeper, Iker Casillas. I got a kick out of that. We returned to the Casablanca Airport and took off into a remote country in West Africa. I cannot disclose much detail at the moment, but I can say that we are meeting with government officials in the region to get express support from them to install wind and solar power arrays in remote villages. It is our belief that this will be great contributor to economic development in the region. I believe that many countries are stymied in their potential for economic output when lacking basic infrastructure. The beautiful people of West Africa are innovators, survivors, and industrious. It is our aim for this mission to pave the way for them to be thrivers in an arid region by bringing The Light to them and supplying them with light for their core living needs. Please, keep our efforts in your prayers. (Forgive any grammatical errors or context lapses. Still fighting the jet lag.)More to come on West Africa when I hit a proper pause...All my love to you and your families. Phillippians 4