around our wet heads while being hennaed and tattooed on our hands and arms.
The next day we went into the Medea where I was approached by a refined gentleman
who offered me 500 camels if I would stay with him in Morocco. That was one offer I
had to refuse. Not that it wasn’t tempting. I have used this unique proposal to remind Ian
of what I was willing to give up to remain with him!
Henry, our Los Angeles tour guide, arrived two days later. He was quite happy and
still tipsy from drinking on the plane trip. For the rest of the tour, he had to be satisfied
with green mint tea, the beverage of choice in Morocco. Muslims do not use alcohol. At
least not while in public and in their homeland.
The most fascinating experience for me occurred at the pottery factory. While a few of
us remained in the van, the others headed for the restroom facilities. The van door was
open and I could see a group of travelers trudging up the dirt hill directly in front of us.
The leader was a white-robed man using a cane for assistance. When he reached the van,
he stopped and started to remove a small green Moroccan flag with its lone red star
attached by elastic to the cane.
I immediately assumed he was going to offer to sell me the flag. Instead, he handed
me the hand-carved orange cane with its silver top. In broken English, he said, “For you.”
Before I could even open my mouth, he went on his way with the group. The episode had
taken mere seconds. The first thing I said was, “Does anyone want the cane?”
A woman named Mary, who had joined our group said, “Sure, I’ll take it.”
Later, when we were back in our room, Sandra said, “Carol, he really meant for you to
have the cane.”
I shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I already gave it to Mary and
I’m not going to ask her to give it back to me.”
Early the next morning, we heard a knock at our door. There stood Mary with the
cane. “Carol, I can’t keep this. The man gave it to you for a reason.”
From that moment on, I kept the cane with me. We traveled together over the Atlas
Mountains, into Marrakesh, and back to Casablanca. Out flight was delayed in
Casablanca due to a bomb threat, and when we arrived at JFK airport, I learned I would
likely miss my connection back to Detroit. Breathless with anxiety, I rushed up to the
Northwest Airline counter to ask what I should do. When the attendant saw the hand-
carved orange cane with silver top in my hand, she said, “Wait here. I’ll get a wheelchair
for you. Don’t worry. We’ll get you on the flight.” And they did. To this day, the cane
sits in the foyer umbrella stand. I rarely pass by it without experiencing a flashback of the
giver of such delight. The cane has truly become a treasure.
I could go on and on about the fabulous demonstrations that manifest daily, perhaps
some not as dramatic as others, but each one valuable and significant. I am an ordinary
woman who experienced extraordinary results from finally recognizing my willpower
was inferior to that of others. I needed to share the truths of my story with those who
have witnessed by struggles and listened to my complaints during the first three-plus
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