Morocco, Anxiety

The first night was tough. I had fallen into a pit of extreme anxiety that drove me close to the brink of leaving. I wanted to get on that 6am bus, back to Marrakech and on the first flight home. Why was I so afraid? I didn't know. I understood the nerves to a certain extent but the feeling of complete trauma was inexplicable. What was I SO afraid of?????

The thing was, I had been dropped into a place that I was only just realising was out of my comfort zone completely. Ok, being on the back of a random man's motorcycle and riding off into the pitch black desert didn't help but... let me explain.

So, I signed up for a workaway project on the website workaway.info. It is a pretty reputable website and in all honesty, the man I agreed to help out had around 50/60 reviews all 4-5 star. I had no reason not to trust the experience apart from the fact that I met him online, but come on, when I put it like that it sounds way worse than it is... plus all good things happen online now (apparently). I was told I would have to travel very far south- 10 hours to be exact, from Marrakech on a CTM bus. Not once did it cross my mind that I will actually be abandoning all of civilisation and putting myself into a very remote area- and possibly a dangerous situation. Once I would arrive it would be night time and the man who was hosting me, M, would come and collect me in a Jeep. We would then drive a further 30 minutes into the desert where I would lay my eyes on my first ever Berber camp, and I could finally relax.

In reality what actually happened was not totally different. I mean I caught the bus from Marrakech and it was one hell of a journey. Every time I imagined 'we must be close' I asked a fellow passenger I had exchanged a few words with and of course I got a slight laugh and a 'yes, about 4 more hours'. Certainly not something I would rush to do again. I remember the sun setting and it was ever so beautiful against the barren Moroccan backdrop, yet as the realisation that night was upon us finally set in (I'd say the last 2 hours of the journey), I was absolutely shitting it. I was never a fan of the dark. Sad but true, from a young age I always slept with a nightlight. When I finally overcame that fear in my mid-teens a strange encounter happened around 18 years old (that involved taking a strong psychedelic drug) that pushed me back into nyctophobia and often meant I would force myself to stay awake till around 5:30am- sunrise. By the time I took this trip I had managed to heal a little and though the fear was not as severe, I still much preferred a nightlight by my side. When finally arriving 10 hours later, at the very last stop in the small town called M'hamid El Ghizlane a man was indeed awaiting my arrival. I was greeted with a warm handshake, a big smile and... a motorbike. It doesn't seem like a big deal as it was a mode of transport to take me from the coach stop to my final destination, but when you are a 20 year old woman with little experience of travelling the world, its nice for things to go as planned and a motorbike ride into the night most certainly was not on the itinerary. We had arranged a jeep pick up however I didn't have much choice as I was surrounded by men in this small sleepy desert town- women did not tend to venture out after dark and I knew nobody in the town, let alone Morocco, except M who had already strapped down my backpack and was prompting me to hop on the back so we could get 'home'. I couldn't see any other sensible choice and so I reminded myself why I had taken this trip- to step out of my safety net and experience the world (although I knew my Dad was no Liam Neeson). I got on the bike, held onto this strange man and looked up to the starry night sky. The engine revved and off we flew.
In all honesty, once I was on the bike I quite enjoyed the journey to the camp. My anxiety subdued and was overtaken with excitement and adrenaline. I was a vigilante outlaw on the run through the Sahara and had hitched a ride with a stranger, the world was my oyster and there was no stopping me. M clearly knew his surroundings, I mean he had grown up in this desert town. I felt I had little reason to question his navigation expertise even though there was, of course, no signage and no roads and yes, just basically sand everywhere. We rode for about 25 minutes up and over the dunes, down smooth sand runways and struggled through some slippery loose sand terrains. I allowed myself to let go a little (mentally not physically ha) reminding myself to look up at the stars and pray to my mother, asking her to keep me safe. She was all I had right now and I knew it. We eventually drew closer to the camp and I could make out a figure with light shining onto him breaking the pitch black night. He wore a traditional cloak I like to refer to as the warlord cloak, as it reminded me of something a warlord would wear, and in all honesty, added to my concern. I said hello and was introduced to R, the helper around the camp.
By this time I was extremely hungry and as I entered the 'living space' of the camp I saw two women sat wrapped in blankets and awaiting my arrival in order to begin eating. There was an extremely large pot of soup and lots of bread to munch on. I have to admit, I didn't think it tasted too great however I was really hungry at this point so anything would have done. We sat and ate as I introduced myself to N and A. My nerves had calmed and I began to feel safe again. I was especially thankful that I was not the only female residing at the camp for the night.
Once ready for bed, we all went our separate ways and I followed N to where my bed had been set up. I was sharing a large tent with her and I was again, rather thankful as I did not really want to be alone. We said our goodnights and I closed my eyes. Sleep Capres. Nothing. I opened my eyes and I couldn't see a thing. That's when the anxiety really hit me. Those of you who have experienced Africa or any remote area at night time know that the lack of light pollution creates what feels like a tunnel darkness. Unless you've grown up in this environment or you have had time to adjust, it is really something quite shocking. Total blackness (but also total beauty as I eventually realised).

I find it hard to put my finger on exactly what it was that I was afraid of, I mean I am sure it was not just a singular factor. I was in a new environment. I was extremely tired from the long day's journey. I was very disorientated as I did not yet have the bearings of my surroundings and in actual fact I hadn't seen where I was as it was just too dark. Though looking back now it is clear for me that I had challenged myself completely...

The night was spent awake- eyes wide open, texting home to calm my nerves. I had bought a sim card with data that worked in the desert and this was the single thread that helped me make it through the first night. I was beyond exhausted by morning, but I was glad to see the rays of sunshine in through the sheets that made up our 'walls'. It was going to be a long 4 days.

My anxiety at night does still hit me now and then. I want it to go away and I'm not certain about the best route to tackle it. Fear is completely irrational. What I do know is I will continue to push myself over my edge and out of my comfort zone as this is the only way I will grow. It won't defeat me.

Peace&Love,
Willow