Andy Allen

When does one cease to be just another American tourist? From my experience in North Africa, a pot of tea sure helps.

Growing up in a relatively homogenous environment in small town America, I never really understood the value of cross-cultural experiences. Sure, I enjoyed traveling, but only on my own terms and in places that friends had gone before me. Often, I sought out countries where I could use English and places that were prepared to give me a superficial yet seemingly authentic view of a place, its history and its culture. Furthermore, I only viewed these elements through a think lens of ethnocentrism. Why should I eat unfamiliar foods, speak another language, compromise my daily routines, or befriend someone I may never see again?

A few years after college, I continued to frame my opinions of foreign countries with the borders of the local media or other popular and readily accessible entertainment sources like books, movies, and music. One day, I decided to volunteer to teach ESL (English as a Second Language) classes. After tutoring refugees from Eastern Europe and the Middle East, my frame of mind fell off the proverbial wall. Shortly thereafter, I joined the Peace Corps and took my frame with me to Morocco for two years, volunteering as a business consultant. After Morocco, I packed the deteriorating frame and took off to Egypt for a brief visit. Once I returned home, I decided that a defined border could never limit my mind again, and I threw out that frame.

In a paragraph, it seems like a quick and easy process, but in truth, it required learning two languages, Moroccan Arabic and Tamazight, delving into an isolated Moroccan village, and becoming part of a community strikingly different from my homeland. While the cultural experiences were boundless, many of the more subtle ones revolved around a pot of tea.

In my daily life in the rural Moroccan village of Tinejdad, I would take several breaks a day to accept invitations for tea and conversation, sometimes reuniting with old friends and other times making new ones. I was always treated out of respect and was never allowed to repay the endless generosity with anything more than a smile and brief conversation. Traveling around towns and cities in Morocco often required patience and time. Each taxi stand or bus stop presented another hurdle in front of any destination. Regardless, I learned to enjoy these moments. I rarely had to wait idly as each stop presented new invitations and opportunities to share a cup of tea with a Moroccan or group of Moroccans. Through these visits, seeds of friendship were not always planted but gifts of peace, joy, and new perspectives were treasured consolation prizes. While these particular tea experiences were enhanced by my intimate knowledge of the local language and culture, I enjoyed several similar experiences in Egypt. The most memorable occurred on a night bus from Luxor to Dahab. A young Egyptian man, Omar, insisted on buying me a cup of tea at each rest stop, and there were several. We chatted in English and Arabic about our work, our families, our dreams, and our lives. With each refreshing glass, I once again lost the title of stranger or guest and became a friend.

After these journeys, I have finally realized the insurmountable value of a genuine cross- cultural experience. I learned to discard the shelves of stereotypes on the walls within my mind, threw out my previous cultural guideposts, and adopted the cultural pastimes of a new place dominated by Islamic elements and Arab and Berber influences. Now, when my surroundings present me with headlines of the Muslim world, I will no longer retract to movie clips of extremists but I will be reminded of close friends and shared memories in Morocco and Egypt. My fear of different places and peoples will not rise, but my sincere concern and longing for old friends from foreign lands will be on the forefront of my mind and deep within my heart.


(see Arabic translation)