Adir and Ali: Angels in Gangsta Disguise

IMSOUANE, MOROCCO -- April 12-13, 2006
(continued)

The following morning, I still felt quite ill, but agreed to join Ali and Adir to Agadir, an hour and a half south, to retrieve Ali's father from the hospital there. The kicker was that we would be stopping at a public bath house to take hot showers in Agadir, something I was desperately in need of, but our meager apartment in Imsouane couldn't provide. When you're ill, a cold-water bucket bath in a small and smelly room with a squat toilet for drainage is enough to turn you off to washing altogether.

In Agadir, we stopped at the souq to pick up soap, shampoo, and other bathing essentials. Souqs are like a shopping mall times 20, crammed into 1/20th of the space, with all wares on display, from floor to ceiling and in every conceivable nook and cranny. Vibrant scarves, racks of jellabahs, woodwork, metalwork, fine jewerly, clay tajine pots, every piece crafted by hand. I enjoyed every minute of that blessed hot shower. It was the first time in I can't remember how long since I had been able to give my hair a good wash.

Next we drove to the hospital. Ali had made an emergency trip to Morocco from Switzerland after learning that his father had a severe infection in both legs and needed to be hospitalized. Adir had found him in his apartment, all electricity and water cut off, in agonizing pain, and had called Ali to let him know of his father's condition.

Still, with this background, I was not prepared for the sight I beheld as I entered the hospital room where his father lay. His legs, blood red from open wounds and iodine, were bloated and looked painfully infected. Huge portions of his outer tissue had been cut away. If you can imagine leprosy, this did not look far from it. I had a sudden appreciation for the wisdom, knowledge, and hygienic conditions of our medical facilities in the States. It made me think twice about sticking around any developing country for major medical attention.

I began a course of Ciproflaxin 500mg (which can easily be obtained over the counter from any pharmacy in Morocco, unlike at home, where a prescription is required). By morning, my fever had broken, and I could feel energy returning to my body. The worst was over. My optimism was returning.

Imsouane had been good for me, but I was ready to move on from my travels with Adir and Ali. They had come when I really needed someone, and were such perfect gentlemen. They would not let me pay for anything in the two days that I traveled with them. They sat up with me when my fever was at its highest -- 102.7F -- and put cold compresses on my head.

They brought me water and yogurt, and one night, when I was feeling strong enough to eat something more substantial, offered me the best part of that night's tajine. I couldn't recognize the taste, so I asked Ali what I had eaten. I wasn't sure whether to gag or choke back my laughter at his response -- goat testicles!!

These two young guys -- the closest thing to wanna-be gangstas I've ever seen -- nursed me back to health, and expected absolutely nothing in return. For that, they will always be my angels.

~Melanie